#his arms in this movie jfc
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welcome to the gun show
#his arms in this movie jfc#tony stark#tonystarkedit#iron man#ironmanedit#robertdowneyjredit#rdjedit#marveledit#mcuedit#mcuchallenge#marvellegends#dailyavengers#mcufam#marveladdicts#dailymarvelgifs#*#edit*#gif*#1k
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Ok I did the whole Barbenheimer thing and let me tell you, Barbie wasn't revolutionary or anything, but it did come up ahead. It did what it was supposed to do and, since I managed my expectations before going in, did it in a fun silly way that still left a bunch of possible deeper readings, even if they were sadly left unexplored (and were maybe unintended). Oppenheimer on the other hand left me very angry and disappointed, even if I went there knowing it was an usamerican warfilm so I wasn't expecting much.
I think Barbie and Oppenheimer were equally superficial and obvious with their intended messages presentations, themes and characters, and equally inconsistent with their story threads. But Barbie was about Barbies, was intentionally silly, and had more going for it than the story itself... and Oppenheimer was about one of the real life creators of the atonic bomb, about the ones responsible for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, and about the subsequent cold war and the mess it left us today in regards to the existence and threat of atomic and H bombs.
I think I can safely say one had the responsibility to be a bit more nuanced and careful than the other, and that just did not happen. And no, i do not think there was any actual anti USA sentiment in Oppenheimer, as someone who lives in a Developing Country (TM)and is used to seeing usamerican propaganda all the time there was barely even a scratch of criticism buried in there; our knowledge of history and our own modern sensibilities and morality did all the heavy lifting in that front without the movie having to risk saying anything. Oh did he feel bad while the bombs were being dropped? Did they villanize a guy who went after him for uhh being better than him at public speaking? Did they say he was against the H bomb and was a pacifist now, actually (without showing it much but who cares, tell not show right)? He was still the hero. Not one Japanese person was shown. Not one civilian protest, not one appearance of the communists they were talking so much about after the scenes in the past, doing anything but talking the whole time. He still ended up with a "I love my country" tirade, there was still a haha nod to fucking Kennedy being the one to be on our hero's side. They still showed more scenes of women naked, drunk, cheating on their husbands and being negligent towards their kids than of them doing literally anything else.
The "nuance" and "anti-usa messages" was just a bunch of misplaced and inconsequential internal conflict that did not feel earned in any way, misogyny and random, boring and inconsistent jury scenes (sorry, "hearing" scenes or whatever they called so there wouldn't have to be consistent rules to follow). And the main character was so damn boring. And they didn't even represent the actual science parts well. And the editing was so weird and the flashing scenes didn't fit and were repetitive. And there was a happy ending for some reason?? It was a whole bunch of nothing with music building momentum that never went anywhere in the background of every scene for 3 hours and I wanted to leave the room for how angry it made me that this subject was treated that way and would probably get praised for it.
#barbenheimer#this isn't the most well though out criticism but i just saw another post saying how surprised they were about the usa criticism in that#and like. where? seriously where was it? oh that mccarthyism was kinda bad for people who did nothing wrong? that bombs are violent?#they barely even said that bombing hiroshima and nagasaki maybe wasn't necessary#everybody everywhere in the world knows that jfc are usamericans in general so behind in these discussions that this was some kind of#revelation? was that surprising of a movie to state? because oppenheimer barely scrathed that#they gave a shoutout to jfk in the end like he was some kind of mcu easter egg#like it was funny#and then it used that random idk sennator? as a scapegoat just so they could have a villain like the good basic usamerican film it is#so the hero could fight against the system by defeating this one guy! in uhh being promoted (?) happy ending for all!! hurrah!!! meanwhile#hundreds of thousands of japanese people are dead. many more die because of the cold war and the arms race#but oppenheimer got his fancy card back! isn't that great? aren't you glad you spent the last 30 minutes in these trials? the last 3 hours#watching nothing be developed?#god it left me so mad#and it will probably win an oscar (probably multiple even) and a lot of other people who think oooh boy look at that nuance :0 it even has#black and white parts! when the whole movie is black and white (like most usamerican movies) (but it's so EASY to make it grey with this#subject) (of course they didn't tho this is much easier)#tags#anyway nobody's gonna read this probably#I'm just angry#“oppenheimer”#“barbie”#this js barely even about barbie#sorry
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Can I request some HC about Cove and cockwarming 👀
omfg yes you can
NSFW, gn reader, step 3 + 4 + DILF ! cove, multiple scenarios, prbly ooc bc dilf!cove is a menance over here ok, prbly ooc step 4 cove too but ion care imma babygirl him ‼️‼️
STEP 3 COVE
you can't expect an 18 year old to be normal or calm abt it
he's all whiny and tense
you're only on his dick long enough to adjust. both of you clinging onto each other and panting, tryna get used to such an intense feeling
you can try teasing him by cockwarming, but it really won't work
begs you to move, uses those big blues to try and sway you
will probably cry if you keep swirling your hips or clenching around him, he can't help but fall over the edge and lose his patience
doesnt matter if you you hold on long enough or are swayed by cove's sweet begging
but now it's your turn for your head to spin because cove thrusts up into you, holding you and hiding his face in your neck
I love the idea of him getting caught up in the moment again and flipping you over on your back and thrusting into you...
makes you finish first because I think he's totally obsessed with watching you finish, especially when you finish around him
STEP 4 COVE
you still can't expect him to be normal
but fuck does he love it
ik I haven't included switch cove n any of the other 2 scenarios (writing this bit last, yes I write backwards)
but I gotta tell you man...
he loves it sm
doesn't matter if it's a strap, loves cockwarming you
mmm, going throughout the day, splitting him open on your cock during different times of the day
please do ask him to stop doing a chore to sit in your lap, he's so weak rn
fuck, come up behind him n just slip in while he's washing dishes, he's in heaven rn
the whole day he's hard, ruined his pants w pre bc he's been in pieces the whole day
by the time you finally fuck him, he's in tears n so happy n pleased
also dies of happiness a bit when you cockwarm him
jfc doing it in the morning. or before bed, while you sleep...
is so turned on by this, sometimes he just can't do it and you'll wake up to cove squirming, apologizing but begging to fuck, begging to cum..
if he makes it through the whole night though... gets the pleasant scene of seeing you on too of him, grinding on his lap n telling him you should hurry up n finish before work<33
fuck imagine teasing him the same way dilf cove does (so spoilers lol)
n having him in your lap or you're in his, and you're tryna watch a show n you're moving your hips..
grinding on him, thrusting up into him..
either way he couldn't hold on, n now you have HIM on the coffee table or laid out on the couch, heart eyes while watching you take him while on top 🫶🫶
he's in love actually
DILF COVE
oh he does it for fun
this is a sport to him
how long can you sit on his cock until you either whine n beg, or you need to get back to the rest of the world
fuck, if you don't have kids or they're grown. he'll do it while you guys sleep<3
anyway🙈
this is almost like a punishment, n like I said, it's entirely for his entertainment n he'll fucking do it while he's watching TV or on the computer
will twist your nipple or rub your sex
kisses your sensitive neck or pushes your hips down
"sorry baby, I was grabbing a pen"
although at some point he'll surprise you by languishingly fucking you. his cock dragging against your walls...
it's so slow n such a tease n it's just enough to keep your stomach burning
omfg cockwarming while he plays a game or watches a show...
you're tryna watch this movie, but you're only half way paying attention if at all because of cove
it's a romance, or some shitty action movie with too many unnecessary sex scenes
every time the characters make out, kissing n groping each other
he's grabbing at you, groping your chest, teasingly stroking your sex, kissing you breathless..
and every sexy scenergy he thrusts up into you, holding your hips down while you cling onto his arms that are wrapped around your waist
either it ends in neither of you cumming, successfully edging yourselves until the end of the movie
or you bent over the coffee table or with your legs up, buried in the corner of the couch as cove works you both through one or two orgasms <33
just the sexual tension alone turns him on, will happily go all day, splitting you on his cock n then going about your day without cumming
fuck, he'll do it before work and then at dinner.. his younger self would've choked and died at just the thought
tells you you look so pretty cumming for him, also tells you some nasty shit like he's so pent up n can't wait to fuck you, can't wait to finish inside you
tells you he's been thinking abt it all day...
pls dilf cove so good n yet so bad for our hearts... 🫣
#olba#our life: beginnings & always#cove holden#cove holden x reader#smut#cove holden smut#cove x mc#cove x reader#cove our life#cove holden x reader smut#cove holden x mc
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the final dialogue exchange between obi-wan and anakin as friends, the moment before obi-wan leaves for utapau and anakin spirals into darkness, is a bit extended in stover's novelization from what's used in the movie, and it makes me sick haha with the amount of gentle validation obi-wan offers, how much he clearly loves anakin and believes in him... it's heartbreaking.
from the page before, we know they're touching here, with obi-wan gripping both anakin's mechanical hand and squeezing his arm, holding him tight as he praises him. anakin just apologized to him, said "your friendship means everything to me," showing vulnerability and admitting his flaws, so aware that he was disappointing obi-wan, and obi-wan can't help but reach for him, hold him, reassure him.
like those who say obi-wan didn't give anakin enough emotional support... i think he tried. he really tried. it just wasn't enough. like there's something so tender and beautiful about, you are a credit to the jedi order, you have greatness of spirit, your virtues are courage, generosity, compassion, commitment, you have done great things, i am very proud of you. he sees him, knows him, adores him.
but then, of course, the knife twist of the end of the chapter, with obi-wan departing, painfully innocent of the horror to come, and anakin walking slowly, head hanging, back toward his speeder because, of course, the chancellor was waiting. he's leaving obi-wan's gentle orbit and moving directly, inexorably into the open jaws of the sith. goodbye, old friend. jfc it hurts
#obikin#anakin skywalker#obi-wan kenobi#rots novelization my beloved#pain and suffering#sw#the way obi-wan clings to him for a long moment#just like how he's attached he struggles to let go#just... i die
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Puck Bunny Part 2
10.7k words jfc im going to shove my head in a hole for a week and die. in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to my gummy worm funds /j
<previous next>
Hockey was aggressive. It was a full-contact sport with so frequent rule breaking, the penalty box was invented. Hockey players, by proxy, couldn’t afford to be hesitant, shy people.
HOOOONK
“Oh my god,” Niki cackled, looking over your shoulder.
You shook your head, taking a long sip of your Starbucks. “There better be a goddamn car crash behind me. With casualties.”
“Darlin’!”
“I’m gonna leave you alone with your valley boy,” Niki declared, clapping you on the shoulder. “Text me if you’re gonna stay or if you need a ride, use protection, pee after, yadda yadda-”
“I told you, I’m not fucking the VAL-U hockey team!”
“You don’t have to be ashamed with me, puddin’, I think the rivalry makes it romantic. You’re like a BBW Juliet and her harem of meathead Romeos.”
An arm thicker than a steel cable wrapped around your shoulders from behind, and a scruffy chin settled into the crown of your head. “I’m not a meathead,” Sapnap insisted, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Hi, bunny!”
You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as he nuzzled against your temple, Niki waving her fingers with a knowing smirk as she left. “Hi, Sap,” you greeted, voice cracking as he captured the shell of your ear between his teeth and made playful noises like he was devouring you. “Wha- Sapnap, please-”
“Please what, darlin’,” he muttered with a grin. “I’ll give you anything if you ask as pretty as that, sugar, you know that.” His hands came down to your waist, unashamedly groping at your chub and using his hold to manhandle you back against him. A gasp pulled itself past your lips as you felt the imprint of something against your ass through his shorts and your skirt- god, you hoped he was hard. If his cock was that big flaccid, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from dropping to your knees right then and there.
You didn’t want him to let go of you. His body heat was soaking into you like a furnace, and his firm chest against your back made you feel so safe. You wanted his arms around you always, a promise to protect you from everything.
“You’re gonna fuck a valley right in our fucking courtyard?!”
Sapnap’s head snapped up, grip tightening on you as he glared daggers across the field. “Don’t talk to my fucking girl, techie! You wanna fucking go, I’ll tear you apart-”
“Shut the fuck up and get in the truck, Sap! Gas is too expensive for your bullshit!” Sam waved at you through the window when you whipped around, then returned Sapnap’s middle finger.
“Sapnap,” you finally managed to say, reaching back to tug on his shirt. Your mouth went dry as his attention instantly flicked back to you, expression going soft as his hands rubbed your hips. “Why are you guys here?”
He lit up as if he’d forgotten and started tugging you along. “We’re taking you out for pizza and a movie, sug’! We got a projector set up, and a bunch of blankets and pillows in the truck bed- it’ll be fun, promise!”
You shouldn’t have been surprised. After that first time you let them buy you dinner and cocoa, they’ve texted you nearly every day in the group chat Sam made. Sometimes it was cute, asking if you’d eaten and letting you know they’d door dashed you a treat. Sometimes it was videos of them being dumb in the locker room in nothing but towels that looked ready to fall off, skin still wet from the showers. And every once in a while, when it was just two of you still awake in the early hours of the mornings, you’d get messages about how they missed you. Paragraphs about the way you fill their minds as they try to sleep, both memories and new fantasies keeping them awake. They’d ask to show you what you did to them. Sometimes you said yes and got sent a video, watching them rub themselves over their boxers, as if they only wanted enough to calm down- as if they didn’t care to come without you. Sometimes you told them to just keep talking and received a voice message, listening to them groan between words about all the different ways they wanted you.
“So, do you wanna come?”
Your face heated up at the phrasing combined with your thoughts, but Sapnap simply smiled down at you as if he didn’t notice how his tank-top-exposed arms trapped your eyes.
“Ye- yeah, I wanna come.” He let out the cutest little cheer as he opened the passenger door, and you tore your eyes off him to wonder how you were supposed to climb in such a tall truck. “I’m in a skirt, so how do I- oh god, fuck!”
“I gotcha,” Sapnap laughed, hands on your hips lifting you into the truck as if you weighed absolutely nothing. “There you go,” he hummed as he set you into the seat, nodding as if he was about to impart some great wisdom. “Passenger princesses don’t have to lift themselves into the truck.”
“Or,” was hummed into your ear as another set of broad hands on your waist pulled you to the middle seat. “Buckle themselves up,” Sam finished as he strapped you in with a light kiss to the tip of your nose. “Hi, bunny. Missed you.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” teasingly slipped out as Sapnap climbed in, sandwiching you perfectly between two beefy Texans who were now laughing so prettily. “I missed you guys, too,”
Sam’s hand landed on your knee the second he was done shifting gears, long fingers spread wide so his pinky could just barely dip under the fabric of your skirt. Sapnap stretched a long arm over the back of the seats, letting you rest your head on his firm bicep as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You want some sweets, bunny,” he hummed, smiling against you as you simply hummed, preoccupied memorizing the shapes Sam drew on your inner thigh. He pulled a convenience store bag off the floor and started searching through it.
“Y’know, that’d probably be easier with two hands.”
He gasped, looking at you with feigned hurt before leaning forward to speak around you. “Bunny doesn’t want my arm around her.”
“I didn’t say-”
“It’s a damn shame,” Sam chimed with a shake of his head, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t take long for a cute lil’ thing to forget who fucked her dumb,”
“That’s it,” Sapnap decided, finally pulling out a candy bar and ripping it open with his teeth. “I make you go a little too dumb on my tongue last week, bunny? Guess I can’t hold that against you, can I? Come on, have some chocolate.”
“I hate you both,” you managed through grit teeth, resisting as he poked at your lips with the candy bar. It was your favorite, but that didn’t matter: you couldn’t give in. The only thing worse than two cocky hockey players was two cocky hockey players who had a reason to be cocky.
“She hates us,” Sapnap relayed over your head.
“Funny way of showing it.”
“I think she actually kinda likes us.”
“Oh, she really likes us. You don’t let three guys you hate fuck you raw- even if you are a puck bunny.”
Your face burned more than it ever had, but not because you were angry. You couldn’t make yourself angry when their voices dripped with adoration like that, as if you were a kitten and no matter how much you hissed and scratched, they’d continue to coo over you and feed you. “... I’m not a puck bunny,” you finally muttered out, taking a vicious bite from the candy to make Sapnap yelp as you grazed his fingers.
“Nineteen,” Sam mused, ticking up a finger, “Sappy, Punzy, and me. I think four in a row and three at the same time makes you a puck bunny, darlin’.”
Your senior year boyfriend was a goalie for the J.V. team, but you would rather die than bring that up now. “Where’s Punz? At least when he’s here, you’re too busy killing each other to make fun of me.”
“We’re not making fun of you,” came from your right alongside another poke of chocolatey goodness. “Being a puck bunny is a good thing- and being our puck bunny is a great thing.”
“Coach kept him behind to go over the new strats you brought us,” Sam told you with a squeeze to your leg. “You’re gonna be there when we crush the techies, right?”
You huffed as Sapnap managed to get you to take another bite. “If I’m not, this was all for nothing- Sap, are you trying to fatten me up?”
“You said you had a salad for lunch!” You were taken aback by his accusatory tone and narrowed eyes as he poked the remaining candy into your mouth, letting you hold it between your teeth while he dug through his bag. “You didn’t even have soup or breadsticks with it!”
“It’s a cafeteria, not Olive Garden!”
“Let us feed you! We fucked you, now we feed you! That’s how this works!”
“You bought me Subway, cocoa, and gummy worms while my legs were still shaking!”
“Well, now we’re feeding you before we fuck you, we’re switching it up!”
You scoffed, crossing your arms under your chest and drawing his eyes to your tits- as if they ever left. “What makes you think either of you get to fuck me again?”
“Might have something to do with the fact that Sam’s almost reached your panties, and you haven’t slapped him yet.”
You stared directly into Sapnap’s smug smirk and delivered a harsh smack to Sam’s knuckles, but he only pulled his hand back down to your knee. “Hey now, don’t let chuckle fuck here goad you into anything you don’t wanna do, darlin’. I know you just wanna brat a little, an’ that’s just fine.”
God, you wanted to slap that understanding look off his handsome face. “I,” you grit out, red-faced, “am not a brat.”
His expression didn’t change as he nodded with a hum, eyes sternly on the road. “If you’re not a brat,” he mused, “you must actually want my hand off your leg, then.” You had to clench your fists to stop yourself from grabbing his wrist as he put both hands on the wheel, leaving your thigh to be attacked by the A.C. You wanted his hands on you- Sapnap’s, too- and you wanted them so badly you were tempted to slip off your skirt just to get some attention.
The truck came to a smooth stop at a red light, and Sam looked over at you, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
You unfastened your seatbelt and sat heavy on Sapnap’s lap, thunking your sneakers down on Sam’s thigh.
“There’s my sugar,” Sapnap cheered, thick arms wrapping around you and holding you tight to his chest until you could feel his heartbeat through your shoulder. His hand found your hip like a magnet, fingertips digging into the meat of your ass with an eager squeeze. “God, I love this gorgeous ass.”
“I can deal with bratting, but if you don’t put a fucking seatbelt on-”
“I’ve got her, Sammy!”
“You fumbled the easiest shot ever last week, I don’t trust you for shit!” A blaring honk made you realize the light had turned green, but Sam simply threw open the back window and stuck his hand out to flip the bird, eyes still locked on yours. “Sit your fine ass down properly and put your seatbelt back on, bunny.”
You actually would have if he hadn’t chosen that nickname. Instead, you purposefully wiggled your hips as if settling in and leaned further into Sapnap’s chest, making it rumble under you with a chuckle as you felt a twitch against your ass. “You’re not fucking winning this, man, she’s in for the long haul.” You might’ve felt like you’d won as Sam turned away, if it hadn’t been for the way he set his jaw before slamming on the gas. The force sent you deeper into Sapnap, an unintentional yelp falling from your lips as his arms tightened around you, hands groping your ass and breast as if hoping you wouldn’t notice while your life flashed in front of your eyes. “Fuck, I gotcha, sug- Jesus, Sam, you drive like you shoot!”
“This,” Sam hummed as he wrenched the wheel to make his turn in time, Sapnap’s hand snapping to the back of your head as you were sent into the door, “is why we wear our seatbelts.”
Something about his smug voice tripped something in you. You knew the request was perfectly reasonable, but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head from screaming that he can’t tell you what to do. You wanted to do anything that would piss him off, to make that calm, collected exterior crack. You wanted to know that you affected him.
You slammed your lips over Sapnap’s.
He gave a grunt of surprise against you, lips curling into a grin as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting that sweet mint and strawberry pairing that you loved hanging on his tongue. You felt his hand protecting your head slide down to the back of your neck, holding you gently in place to curl his tongue around yours, pushing into your mouth as he fought you to take control.
Your heart raced as Sam took another sharp turn, bouncing in Sapnap’s lap as the paved road turned to gravel, but by the way he ground up against you, he didn’t mind the rough ride. His teeth sank into your bottom lip as he pulled away, chuckling as he brought you with him a few inches before letting go. “I think sugar likes a little danger,” he purred, pulling your head back to trail his lips over your neck. “You like the adrenaline, bunny?”
You gasped as his lips latched onto your pulse, feeling with his tongue the way your heart thudded. “Keep calling me that,” you pushed out, “and you’ll be in danger.”
He hummed against the tender skin, nipping gently as he pulled away. “You really mean that, sweetheart?”
You didn’t. It made you feel small and sexy. Maybe you were a puck bunny, but you were the puck bunny. The one who only needed to show up to get three brutes, usually eager to maim each other for the fun of it, all cooperating and falling over each other for the chance to take care of you- not just fuck you, but treat you to good food and ask about your day, too. But the day you give up your bratty streak and let these bucket heads have their way without a fight is the day you die. “Maybe,” you said instead. You cupped his scruffy cheek and scratched a single nail along his jaw, guiding his lips back to yours. “You wanna peek under my skirt and see for yourself?”
Sam’s hand landed on your ankle, shoving your leg up, knee pressed into your chest, skirt falling into a pile around your waist with a gasp from your pretty pink lips. He didn’t even lift his foot from the gas as he fixed his eyes on your core, letting out a low whistle. You picked a good day to wear your lace. “It’s a damn shame you soaked through such a pretty pair of panties, sugar. You gonna let me keep these ones?”
You scoffed, wiggling your foot on his lap until you found his cock straining against the front of his sweats. “You’ve hardly done anything to deserve it.”
He clutched his heart with a dramatic groan that made you giggle as Sapnap nosed the soft skin in front of your ear. “Aw, come on now, bunny, there’s no need to be so mean to him. He’s the one who offered up his truck for date night, after all.” He crooked his finger under your chin, lips pulling into a dazed smile as he got your full attention back. “Tell you what, sug’,” he whispered, as if sharing a tender secret, breath fanning across your lips. “If you can use that smart mouth on Sam instead of just terrorizing him, I promise to make you come on my fingers before we even get there. Whaddya say to that, hm?”
You leaned forward to give him a soft kiss. “Bet’cha another bag of candy I make him come before you make me.”
A laugh burst from his lips against yours, hand coming down on your ass with a slap as you shifted your position. “Bunny’s cocky, Sam. You better not cream your pants and let her win.”
“You mean like you did from a little pussy in your face?”
“You’re just jealous she won’t sit on you.”
“Damn right I am, I’d pay to have that ass on me twenty-four, seven.”
You got comfortable on your hands and knees across the bench seat, Sam’s hand nestling into your hair while both Sap’s rubbed your hips. “Would’ja settle for my mouth,” you asked with a small smirk as his bulge jumped at the mere mention, fingers playing with his waistband.
“Fuck, bunny, I’d settle for a black and white picture if it was you,” he groaned, foot hitting the floor as you palmed his cock, engine roaring under the hood like a lion as he zipped through back roads. “Careful there, sugar,” he warned, but still lifted his hips for you as you tugged at his sweats. “Get distracting me too much, and we’ll end up in a ditch.”
A smirk pulled at your lips as you revealed he wasn’t even wearing underwear, cock springing out the second you got his sweats down to his knees. “You’re telling me this beast can’t even climb out of a ditch.”
He chuckled, cutting off with a low hiss as you wrapped your hand around him. “Oh, my baby can get us anywhere, but if we go off the road, we’re staying there until that smart mouth gets fucked out of you.”
“I’m doing my best,” Sapnap chirped, grin thick in his voice as he rubbed two fingers over your clothed clit just to watch your hips twitch, trying to follow as he pulled away. “Go on, bunny- I’m a fair man, I start when you do.”
“Not my fault,” you hissed, rubbing over Sam’s fat tip, collecting his precum on your thumb to spread over his head. “I can’t exactly unhinge my jaw.”
Sam let a breathy laugh fall from his lips, dull nails scratching softly at your scalp. “Don’t listen to him, sugar, that feels real good. You keep takin’ care of me like that, and I’ll make up for Sappy neglecting your sweet pussy, alright?”
“Neglecting?” You let a small laugh fall out of your lips at the pure horror in Sapnap’s tone, thumbs rubbing circles just above the crease where your ass met your thighs. “How come I’m the one tryna get my fingers in her guts, but you’re turning her against me?”
“Listen to him whine- what a baby, huh, sug’?”
“Sweetheart, if you don’t shut him up I will, and I don’t wanna get blood on your pretty face.”
“Oh, yeah, I’d like to see you fucking-” You took Sam’s blushing red tip into your mouth and licked up the single pearly drop clinging to his slit, putting more of your weight on the hand on his knee as it tried to jerk up. “Fuck, fuck- ‘m sorry, bun, I- fuck, her mouth’s so hot.”
A startled breath came out of your nose as Sapnap pulled your panties to one side with his thumb, broad hand gripping your ass hard to keep the fabric in place as the pad of his finger found your clit again. “Isn’t it fun to make him eat his words,” he purred, drawing soft circles on your bud. “And see how nice you get treated when you stop being a little brat?” He pressed hard against you, pulling a moan from your throat that vibrated all the way down Sam’s cock, making his hips twitch in his seat. “Yeah, we’re gon’ take care of you so good you won’t need to brat. Ain’t that right, Sammy?”
“Sapnap, I’m about to crash this damn truck if I have to focus on anything else-” his voice cracked, turning into a deep growl as you sucked your cheeks in and sank further down on him, starting a gentle bob of your head just to hear him moan into the hot air- just to feel those thick fingers in your hair scratch at your scalp. “If you running that fucking mouth distracts me from coming down bunny’s tight throat, I’ll leave your ass in a ditch.”
There was a truly obscene wet sound as you pulled off Sam’s thick cock, hand moving in lazy strokes as you pressed your lips to the little bit of tummy peeking out from his ridden-up shirt. “Sammy,” you hummed, grinning against his skin as another moan tumbled from his lips. “If you kill him before I come, I’ll make you wear a condom if you so much as hold my hand.”
Sam’s groan made his stomach rumble under your lips as Sapnap laughed victoriously, popping his fingers in his mouth before they returned to your cunt, the middle one diving past your folds like a reward. “You tell him, sugar! See, bunny likes my mouth.”
Your fingers rubbed up Sam’s side, revealing more and more skin for you to kiss up. He had such a perfect body, his strong abs hiding under just a bit of pudge that made him perfect for holding, giving just the slightest resistance as you pressed your lips hard against him. “I’d like it a hell of a lot more-” you nipped a light mark into Sam’s soft skin “-if it was on me.”
Sapnap’s scoff barely reached your ears as you decided your jaw had recovered enough to sink back down over Sam’s thick cock, letting it reach as deep in your throat as you could manage with strained breaths. He stretched your throat like it was made for him, made to be just tight enough to make curses spill from his pretty lips and make him drive fast enough to make your walls clench down on Sapnap’s finger as it found the perfect spot inside you to rub at.
Sam’s seatbelt snapped open the same second he slammed on the brakes, Sapnap’s grip on your ass tightening to keep you in place so he could push a second finger inside you. You heard the click of the gearshift just before Sam’s other hand threaded into your hair, pulling you off him. “Deep breaths, okay, bunny?” The words came out rushed and with a sigh as he shifted in his seat until he was facing you. God, he looked so pretty. He didn’t bother to pull his shirt back down, letting his flushed cock leak against his bare stomach as he leaned back against the door, gently pulling you closer until he could lay his lips over yours. He didn’t let it get too deep, tongue just grazing your lip as he forced himself off you, one hand leaving your hair to wrap around the base of his cock with a groan. “You hit me if you want me to stop, alright, bunny? Hit me real hard wherever you can reach to make sure I notice- you won’t hurt me. Promise me, bun.”
You both knew it was more like ‘can’t hurt me’ but you nodded anyway, turning your head to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I promise to hit you if I suddenly lose my mind and decide I don’t want you to fuck my throat.” His stern expression broke as he huffed out a laugh, petting your hair with a soft ‘good girl’ falling from his lips as he guided you to his cock. You did as you were told, taking deep breaths as you let him control your movements, despite how much you wanted to take him to the hilt and let him fill your stomach. Instead, he took your mouth slowly and gently, pulling you back and forth along just the first half as he studied your face. You clenched down on Sapnap’s fingers as you caught sight of his expression- he was looking at you, spit-soaked lips and gnarled hair, like pure art. A deep sigh escaped his lips and his hand left his cock to join the other in your hair, cupping your head gently as you relaxed your throat as much as you could and gripped his hips.
The first thrust into your throat made you choke.
The second one knocked all those careful breaths out of your lungs.
You weren’t embarrassed to say the third one made your eyes roll back as you went limp in his hold.
“Aw, hell,” Sapnap hissed as your legs started to fail, pulling his fingers out of you to grip your other hip. “We good,” he reported, lifting you completely off the seat and up to his mouth, sealing his lips over yours without a missed beat. Your moan pulled one from Sam and spurred his hips faster, Sapnap’s lips curling into a smug grin against you as he ate you as eagerly as he did before- as if this was all he needed to be not just content, but ecstatic.
Your hands on Sam’s hips wandered- up his sides and over his stomach, flexed tight as he chased his high, thick muscle on full display as he fucked your throat open, making a home for his cock in it. You’d love that, you decided. You imagined Sam laying in bed after a hard practice, fat cock nestled in your throat casually as he watched tapes of the old games to prepare. You knew he’d take such good care of you- that was just the kind of sweetheart he was. He’d never let you go hungry or thirsty, always keeping snacks and water on hand for you. He’d treat his cock sleeve like a princess.
Sapnap’s tongue curled inside you just as Sam’s hips started to stutter, almost as if both were trying to carve you open to better suit their needs- only difference being Sap’s need was to make you the last thing he ever tastes and Sam’s was to paint your throat white. You did your very best to relax your throat, to become a willing cum slut for your handsome defense man to use. Your hips rocked against Sapnap’s mouth almost absent-mindedly, more focused on Sam’s pleasure than your own- though, if you weren’t so committed to dying before you stroked their egos, you would admit the possibility of coming from sucking him off was bigger than his double-d pecs.
“I’m gonna come down your throat, bunny,” fell from his lips with a strained breath as one arm snapped to grip the steering column for leverage to lift his hips completely off the seat, fucking his cock along your tongue like he couldn’t get deep enough, no matter how many times he buried your nose in his happy trail. “Fuck, you take dick like a champ, baby. Look like such a little pillow princess, but you give head like a perfect whore. Bet you’d be so happy to stay in my truck forever, huh? Get your pretty cunt ate out while you suck me off every day?” You couldn’t nod around his cock, but Sapnap’s moan as you clenched on his tongue said it all and made Sam grin wide. “Yeah,” he hummed, thrusts turning slower but harder as the hand in your hair caressed your scalp. “We’d be so fuckin’ good to you.”
The promise shot straight to your clit like lightning and spurred you to sink your nails into Sam’s hips to draw him down your throat until your nose was smothered against him, spasming around his cock as your gag reflex protested. His head thunked back against the window, tip battering your throat as his hips jerked against your face. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Put ‘er down, Sap, give ‘er some room.”
A handful of curses were mumbled against your pussy lips, but he obliged, broad hand rubbing up and down your back as he laid you across his lap. “I gotcha, sweet girl, deep breaths for me, alright?”
“I’d like to see you breathe with this monster down your throat,” you thought spitefully, but it died as a husky moan spilled from Sam’s lips, cock jumping in your throat as his orgasm came down on him like a crashing wave. His hand went limp in your hair, nothing more than a soft, sweet caress, not wanting to force you to take more than you wanted. So sweet, always worrying for nothing: your hold on his hips kept him pressed deep inside your mouth, throat pulsing around him as you struggled to swallow mouthful after mouthful of sweet cum, taking as much as he’d give you.
“Fuck, bunny,” he wheezed, voice hoarse as he gently pulled you off his spent cock. You whined as his tip leaked against his stomach, twitching as his own body insisted on giving you more to drink, but it was quickly cut short as you had to snap your lips shut to avoid a mouthful of thick cum falling from them. “Shit,” Sam hissed, already fumbling for the window button, “you wanna spit, sug’?”
Your brat came back. How fucking dare he? Spitters are quitters. Did you suck dick like some common whore who needed to spit after? I don’t think so.
You inhaled deep through your nose and swallowed the entire load in one go, letting your white-streaked tongue loll out as proof. A soft ‘oh, hell’ slipped as he brought your lips to his, inviting your tongue in to tangle with his, licking your mouth clean of him. He groaned when you pulled back, but the hand in your hair didn’t impede your movement as you leaned close, taking his earlobe between your teeth for just a moment.
“Never fucking doubt me again.”
“Never fucking again,” he mumbled out, chasing your lips. “Does that mean you wanna take care of Sap before Punzy finds us?”
Your hand reached back on its own, Sapnap’s fingers finding yours and lips pressing against your palm. His beard scratched gently at the surrounding skin, leaving a trail as he crawled up your body, lips caressing until he was hovered over you and they found your neck. His hips pressed against yours and a gasp fell from your throat like it was pulled.
“God, why are all three of you built like fucking bulls?”
Their chests rumbled against you, a subtle reminder that two broad Texan country boys who loved to throw down their gloves had you trapped between them. It made you feel small, something you didn’t get to experience often. They could easily throw you around, bend you this way and that however they wanted for their own pleasure.
Then Sam’s lips caressed your cheek and Sapnap’s calloused hands kneaded your soft hips. “Made for your pleasure, sweet thing,” Sap murmured against your neck, finding the tender spot behind your ear. He didn’t nip or even suck, just kissed the skin softly: a reminder how soft these boys were on you. They’ve shown more tender care for you in a week of texts and two ‘dates’ than your ex did in almost a year. They would easily throw you around, but they’d do it with a hand protecting your head and soft kisses pressed wherever they could reach. They’d fold you into any position they wanted until you gave the slightest sign of discomfort and they’d pull back without a breath of hesitation.
“Flip me,” you muttered out when your own muscles refused to obey, letting out a soft purr as four broad hands scattered across your body, gently lifting and turning you to lay you back against Sam’s firm chest. You felt a smile tug at your lips as you watched Sapnap get lost in your body, fingers brushing up your waist to reveal the soft skin of your stomach as your shirt got pushed up, trailing touches along the bottom of your bra. “Hey,”
He grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. “Hey, sugar. Can I get your bra off for ya?” You gave a hum against him and his fingers walked around the band until he found the clasp. He pulled you up just a bit, just enough to press you more against him than Sam, and fumbled with the hooks for a moment- just long enough for you to start grinning against his lips and for him to curse against yours. You wrapped an arm around his neck to hold you up and reached the other back, flicking the hooks apart. “Fuckin’ witchcraft,” he huffed, but helped you pull it out of your shirt anyways.
Sapnap turned the lace over in his hands as if contemplating before reaching over your head.
“There ya go, buddy,” he chirped with a grin as he draped it over Sam’s head. “Add that to your fuckin’ spank bank.”
“Don’t think I won’t,” Sam tossed back as his hands rubbed down your hips, grabbing two thick handfuls of your thighs and pulling them apart. You bit your lip to hold back a moan as your lacy panties pulled tight against your clit. “Get to work or I’ll fuck her myself and leave you to cream your pants again.”
Sap rolled his eyes, leaning down to bunny kiss you. “He’s so dramatic,” he whispered in your ear, just to hear the breathy giggle you gave as his lips skimmed your cheek. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t’cha bunny?” His lips curled into a grin as you nodded, stretching your neck to try and sneak a kiss from him. Thick fingers pulled aside your panties to run his thumb over the seam of your folds, spreading your slick. “Oh, you’re just a sweet thing for me, huh?” He shoved his shorts down his thighs as he asked, grin stretched wider than his face at the weak noise the sight pulled from you.
Punz was packing. You were going to feel Sam in your throat for weeks. Sapnap was smuggling a monster. You were absolutely positive being fucked by a literal bull would be easier. You were expecting something big, of course- you’d even predicted the girth-to-length correctly based on his height and build. You weren’t expecting his long fingers to barely wrap around the base or for the tip to nearly reach his knees.
“It’s always the fucking shy ones.”
“If you want to kill me, just run me over,” you wheezed. The muscles in your neck gave out, seemingly accepting your approaching end, and your head thudded back against Sam’s sternum, but you still watched down your nose as Sapnap stroked himself- god help you, it got bigger.
“You can tap out, sugar,” he promised, even as his thumb swiped over the leaking head. “I’d be more than happy to jerk off with you on my face again.”
“Absolutely not. I just need a safe word.”
That got their attention- and concern. Sam let your thighs fall together and Sap let go of his cock, letting it bob against his stomach as he leaned over you.
“What’s wrong, sugar?”
“What do you need, bun?”
“You know this doesn’t go anywhere you don’t want, right?”
A huff of laughter spilled from your lips as you reached up to cup Sapnap’s cheek. “You’re both big softies,” you cooed, trying to shoo away his worried gaze with a few soft kisses across his cheekbones. “I need a safe word because I know myself too well. I don’t wanna stroke your ego, but you’re fucking huge, Sappy.” He perked up, worry falling away to pure adoration as his hockey name fell from your lips. You rubbed your other hand down his body until you could curl your fingers around his shaft, a grin curling on your face at the soft whimper you pulled from him. “I know I’m going to scream, and cry, and brat my fool head off, even though I want nothing more right now than to die from some monster dick.” You grazed your lips over his. “So we’re going to establish a safe word, and unless I use it, you’re going to fuck my brains out. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” slipped out without hesitation and you couldn’t admit what it did to you. “Fuck, yes, please. Uh- pineapple?”
You gave him a firm but short kiss. “Perfect. Safe word is pineapple. Sam, if someone calls and we don’t notice-”
“Yank you apart and give the offender a good hit- on it.” He pulled your thighs up again, helping Sapnap hook your calves over his hips. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. “I gotcha, baby,” he promised softly, making your heart squeeze as you knew he didn’t just mean that he was holding you.
Sapnap’s thick fingers wrapped around the grab handle on the roof to keep his weight off you as he scooched close enough to press his fat tip against you. He parted your folds around him and laid his cock between them, grinding the wet tip against your clit as he passed. “Fuck, sugar,” he sighed in time with your moan as he sized you up. “It’s gonna be fuckin’ tight.”
You knew that was a not-so-subtle offer to back out, to make sure you knew what you were in for.
“Promise?”
He looked like you just gave him the world. Based on the way he practically worships your cunt, you may as well have.
He pressed against your entrance hard, using one hand to try to ease his way inside without just shoving himself into your pussy. When he finally managed the head inside, it pushed a whiny moan out of you as just the tip spread your entrance more than his fingers could ever hope.
“Sapnap,” you rasped out, watching your voice send a shiver down his spine and snap his eyes shut, desperate not to get ahead of himself. He was being smart: taking things nice and slow to make absolutely sure you felt more pleasure than pain. You reached out and raked your nails down his tensed abs. “Take me,”
His hips snapped without a thought as his body took your command as law, suddenly filling you with a good four inches that spread your walls to their limit. His tip leaked precum inside you as if even his cock knew you needed lube and was eager to supply. The hot, sticky feeling as it seeped into you just made you all the more eager to get filled with cum.
Another sharp thrust got him halfway in.
The third slammed your cervix like a truck.
“Oh, hell,” you wheezed, letting yourself fall limp in Sam’s secure hold. Your hips rocked against Sapnap’s, desperate to fit that last bit of him inside you, despite what your body said. “I want it, Sappy, please. Don’t stop.”
Another curse fell from his lips as his cock jerked inside of you, desperate to obey. “Careful, sug’,” he grit out, plastic creaking under his grip as he tried to resist. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”
You stretched your neck, brushing your lips along his jaw.
“Hurt me.”
It hurt like hell when he slammed your cervix with intent, but you would’ve walked on hot coals to have him buried in your guts. One of Sam’s hands left your thigh to trace light shapes over your clit- whether to get your body to relax or to soothe the pain, you didn’t know, you just knew it was working. Your walls shook as you came, begging Sapnap deeper until finally your cervix gave in.
The coarse hair above his cock pressed against your clit after Sam yanked his hand away, giving a perfect sensation as Sapnap ground his hips against yours as if making sure he’d really given you every inch. “Oh hell- fuck me, sugar- bunny.” His stuttered praises created a new nickname that spread a fuzzy feeling all the way through your stomach and into your chest. Your cunt made your approval known as it tried to suck him in deeper, begging him to fill every empty space inside you and pulling a deep groan all the way from the depths of his stomach. “You like that? You my sweet sugar-bunny? Fuck, your pussy wants me, sug’. Haven’t even started fuckin’ you and it’s tryna milk me. You really want me to come inside you that bad?”
So badly you wanted to cry, yes you did. You’ve never wanted to be filled before these boys, but something about them made you want to be straight-up bred. You wanted them to take turns fucking you full of their cum just to keep your cunt warm and wet and full.
“Please, Sap,” you managed, feeling the way your strained voice made his cock jump inside you. “Want you to fill me up ‘til your cum is leaking out of me for days.”
Evidently, that was the final reassurance your sweet Texas gentleman needed to leave the building. In his place was the broad enforcer who barreled through people like they were nothing but snowflakes in the wind. Without another second Sapnap was jackhammering into you with the same force he used to lay out opponents, that thick cock head never leaving your womb as he speared you open. You only knew you were screaming when your throat began to hurt, unable to hear anything over the blood rushing through your ears as his cock hit every nerve in your pussy, thick shaft rubbing against your g-spot from how stretched you were around him.
Sam let your legs snap closed around Sapnap’s hips so he could cup your tits in either hand, fingers lazily strumming your nipples as if he knew you only needed the slightest touch to bring you over the edge again. Soft praises filled the cab as you came on Sapnap’s cock, Sam’s lips pressing hard on your temple, knowing you’d need something to ground you as you floated. Sapnap didn’t- couldn’t help as he got lost in the heavenly feeling of your pussy gushing around him, the sound of his thrusts becoming so much wetter as he pounded right through your orgasm.
“Remember your safe word, bun,” Sam murmured against you. “We just lost Sappy.”
Sapnap fucked you like a machine, hips pounding an even, fast pace against yours, as if all your orgasm did was energize him. His cock rocked into you like it was his mission to fuck you open. Like he needed to make sure he left you so stretched out that you could only come to him to satisfy you. He was a man completely committed, and his only goal was to fuck your literal brains out and fill you with his cum.
“Beautiful.” The word escaped his lips as part growl and part prayer as he traced the shape of your jaw. He sucked the skin into his mouth just enough to leave a light mark- so tender and gentle with you, completely opposite to the way he abused your cunt. “Fuck, I love when you come for me, sugar. Get this gorgeous look on your face. Look like an absolute goddess, baby.”
You wanted to tell him how much you loved the things he said, how much they filled you with a warmth that pure sex didn’t. You wanted to tell him that he was the picture of a Greek Adonis: stretched out above you with the muscles in his thick arms bulging from the effort of keeping his weight off of you, shaggy brown locks hung over his melted chocolate eyes and that scruffy beard that made you want to trace your fingers down his jaw. You wanted to say it all, but none of it came from your lips.
“Fuck, fuck,” spilled out instead as he fucked you straight through your sensitivity and into a pleasure-induced partial numbness. “Fuck, can’t- I can’t! God, fuck me!”
“God, you really do run your mouth.” Sam’s tone was absolutely reverential, despite the breathless chuckle that came with his words. His fingers traveled all over your torso, rubbing tender shapes into your hips, breasts, and every stretch of skin in between. His lips caressed your cheek, a soft touch among the debauchery of a threesome in a pickup parked in a field. “What’s your safe word, bunny?”
“Pine- fuck! It’s pineapple! That’s not calling it! If you fucking stop, Sapnap, I’ll cut your dick off!”
Sapnap’s lips curled into a smile against you as he eagerly obeyed, hips not so much as stuttering against yours as he kept up his animalistic pace. “She wasn’t kidding: bunny gets bratty after her second, Sam.”
“Duly noted,” was muttered into the hot air, thick fingers crooking under your chin to guide you to his lips. “I think,” Sam mused against your soft lips as he kissed his way into your mouth, “another two would make her a good girl again.”
“Or make her pass out.”
Sam shrugged as he pulled back to let you pant against him, teeth teasing the swollen red skin of your bottom lip. “Either way.”
Your breath hitched as Sapnap’s thick fingers wrapped completely around your ankle and started testing how he could arrange you. He tried to put it over his shoulder first, but when he was blanketed over you so tightly, your hips just couldn’t do it. “I gotcha, sug’,” he promised when you winced, immediately changing tactics. He hooked your knee over his elbow, then wrapped his arm over the steering column. “There you go, just opening you up a bit, that’s all.”
Fuck, you’d never had to be spread open so much just to take a guy. It occurred to you that you still hadn’t. You took Sap just fine- your walls were like a vice around him, the slightest stinging stretch still remaining- but you were taking it in stride. Not that Sapnap’s hammering left any room to do anything but. Still, he tried to take care of you, tried to ease his rough battering on your insides into something easier to walk with tomorrow. Even when he had you spread across the front seat, bruising your folds, he was still so sweet.
He straightened up and yanked the bottom of his shirt between his teeth, eyes as dark as warm molasses trained on where your cunt swallowed him. His cock dragged against your walls as he pulled his hips back, hand snapping back to the grab handle as soon as his shirt was out of the way: he needed to see you. Needed to see the pretty pink lips that wrapped around his cock so well.
Not leaning over you gave him leverage. Now when his hips drove into yours, cock diving deep inside you, he did it faster and harder than he could before. Now when he thrust into you, he pressed his balls tight against your ass, practically begging to empty them into your tight heat.
Scratch what you said before: not sweet. Your legs were just preventing him from absolutely destroying your pussy.
“Y’killing me,”
Sam chuckled, but Sapnap didn’t falter- didn’t even look up from where your cum had soaked the dark hairs at the base of his cock. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” Sam promised. His fingers threaded with yours, bringing your joined hands to rest on the swell of your stomach. You’d swear you could feel Sapnap’s thick cock pressing back- thought that if you were any thinner, you would see the column where he pushed your body aside to make room for himself. “You’re doing so good- such a perfect little bunny,” Sam praised against your cheek as he slathered it in soft caresses of his lips. “Like you were made for us.”
A short laugh fell from his lips before he choked on it. It came back, though, and just as you worried what could possibly make anyone laugh with their cock out and their friend spreading you in half, he let the thought fly.
“Made sharing size.”
Your head fell back into the cradle of his collarbone and a short, breathless laugh spilled from your lips. “I hate you,” you managed, but it caught in your throat as Sapnap fucked you like he hadn’t heard a word. “Fuck, hate you, too, Goliath!”
“I don’t think he can hear you,” Sam muttered, caressing your tit in his free hand- didn’t grope it, didn’t play with your nipple. He held it like a precious gem- pet over the skin like it was the softest he’d ever felt. Sapnap growled out something around his shirt, but even if you could understand it, you weren’t certain it was anything coherent. “Sappy’s a little obsessed with you, bun. Now that he’s got a turn with your pussy, he’s not thinkin’ ‘bout nothing but fucking you open and filling you.”
Well, fuck, now that was all you could think about, either. You’d never admit to these boys how much you fantasized about letting them fill you up whenever they wanted. How many nights since your impromptu rendezvous were spent with your fingers in your cunt, mourning the lack of a thick cock to satisfy you. The lack of a strong, warm body holding you from behind, feeding himself into your needy pussy just to be closer while you slept.
You could never tell them. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind they’d comply to every increasingly perverted thought, and you quite enjoyed your ability to walk- and think- straight. Both of which were quickly melting away as Sapnap carved out a permanent home for himself deep in your guts.
He fell forward when you came around him, gummy walls sucking his cock deeper as he mouthed at the column of your neck. Your arms snapped around his head as his hips resorted to rolling against yours, nails carving into his scalp through shaggy hair as the coarse hair at his base scraped against your clit. “S’fuckin’ good, sugar,” he groaned against the pulsing vein in your neck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. Fuck, ‘m gonna fill this sweet pussy with my cum. Stuff you so fuckin’ full-” He choked as you rolled your hips in time with his, falling to his forearms braced on the driver’s window.
“Promises,” you panted out with a smile, “promises,”
Curses spilled from his lips like he couldn’t control himself, chest hair rubbing against your raw nipples where his shirt was still bunched up, sending you dangerously closer to overstimulation, but nowhere near calling your safe word. “She’s so sweet,” he muttered under his breath, as if it was a realization he hadn't meant to share.
“Just the sweetest, ain’t she,” Sam hummed back anyway, lips pressed tenderly against your temple. “She don’t even know how gorgeous she is- else she wouldn’t let a couple bucket heads split her open.”
“Maybe we’re special.” The words were barely breathed into your neck, a shy question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.
You pulled hard on his soft hair, yanking his lips up to yours. He still tasted like your cunt, but his strawberry chapstick peaked through, just like you were learning it always did. When you let him pull back, it was only enough for your breath to wash over each other's sore lips. “So special,” you promised, and you meant it. You might have a major thing for jocks with anger issues, but you sure as hell didn’t let them all raw you. In a truck. At the same time. But then again, they didn’t all drive an hour to pick you up for a spur of the moment date after a week of blowing up your phone.
“You’re more special,” spilled from his lips into yours without a thought, pressing closer and closer until there wasn’t an inch of your body not touching them. “Want you to come with me, sugar. Please? Wanna make you come one more time.” You were nodding from the first word, finally driving your tongue past his lips to make him shut up because god, you wouldn’t be able to wait for him if he kept talking.
Sam’s broad, calloused hands rubbed over your bare stomach, a soft, “y’two look so cute together,” pulling a whine from deep in your chest. He held you tight as Sapnap’s hips bucked into yours, throwing you over the edge one more time as your pussy milked him for his cum, begging for it to fill you up. “Atta girl, letting Sappy come. So good for us,” he cooed, giving you a squeeze while you were still a million miles away, his voice foggy and distant. You didn’t know how long it took you to come back down to Earth, but Sapnap’s cock was still leaking into your used hole when you did, his nose buried where your neck met your shoulder, nuzzling into the skin as if he was going to fall asleep. Honestly, you had half a mind to join him.
The cold air hit first. Then Sapnap hit your chest and knocked every painfully reclaimed breath back out of your lungs as all three of you fell like a set of dominoes without the driver’s door propping you up.
“This is the fucking thanks I get for buying the pizza?” The sudden bright light of the overhead impeded your view, but after a few frantic blinks, you could make out an upside-down Punz glaring at you. No, not you: only the guys. Pretty privileges. Awesome. “Sam, put your dick away.”
“Cock looker,” Sam called with a flip of the bird, but yanked his boxers back into place anyway. “We’re not neglecting our girl just because you’re late to the party. Right, Sap?” Sapnap let out a sound against your neck that was either, ‘fuck you,’ or ‘puck boo.’ Toss of the coin, really. Either way, Punz reached over and smacked the back of his head.
“Get off her so I can take my bunny.”
A shrill yelp escaped you as Sapnap suddenly came back to life, fingers sinking into your love handles to hold you steady as he shot up. You moaned as the new position had you basically sitting on his lap, cock head spearing something deep inside you that’s never been reached before, but if he noticed he didn’t show it. “You can’t take her!” The decree was paired with him falling back on the passenger’s door, sending you crashing into his firm chest. “She’s mine now,” he decided with a kiss to your crown. After a moment of contemplation, you decided that you were pretty cool with any result from this conversation and settled in. “You decided to be a bitch and not show. Too bad, so sad- oh, fuck!”
Another panicked noise left your lips as Sapnap fell, his entire torso dangling out of the truck with Sam’s frantic grab of his ankles the only thing keeping him from tumbling out onto the grass with you still attached. After a beat to confirm you weren’t about to crack your head open and be found naked and full of cum, you braced yourself on Sapnap’s chest and pushed yourself up.
Punz grinned like he hadn’t just tried to murder his right wing. “Hey, bunny,” he purred, opening his arms for you. “‘M sorry I didn’t come to pick you up. You wanna have a cuddle while Tweedledee and Tweedledipshit pull the truck the right way around?”
“I’m sorry my parking skills aren’t on point when I’m balls deep, god!”
“He’s not sorry,” you pretended to whisper, stern facade breaking into a grin when Sapnap snorted out a laugh under you. You rubbed a flat palm across his chest, feeling it rumble as he practically purred at the feeling. “You ready to let me go, Sappy? Or you need a snuggle?”
You could watch in his eyes like a movie as he slowly thought through your question and realized what you were really asking. He leaned up to press a peck against the corner of your mouth before flopping back down across the seat with a soft pat to your waist. “I’m good,” he promised with one of those lazy grins you were starting to crave. “Make sure to save some for me, though, yeah?”
“Oh, of course: everyone gets their cuddle rations,” you agreed, choosing to ignore Sam’s snort of, “rations- like we’re in the cuddle war.” You reached for Punz and tried to make yourself as cute as possible with a soft pout. “I can’t stand, you’ll have to carry me.”
“I think I can live with that,” he decided, pulling you off Sapnap and into his arms with a small noise of sympathy as the drag against your sensitive cunt made you ache. “I know, poor bunny,” he gushed, pulling down your shirt for you. “Alright, fuckers, turn the truck around so we can actually watch the movie!”
“I’d forgotten about the movie,” you mused, legs wrapped around Punz’s waist hesitantly. “I’m leaking on your shirt.”
“It’s seen worse.”
Your nose wrinkled. “Ew,”
“I don’t think you get to talk shit after a Texas Eiffel Tower.”
“... alright, fair,” you decided, settling into his chest. His hands on your hips hoisted you up his body easily, letting you relax and trust him to arrange you however it was easiest to hold. “So what brought on this surprise date? I mean, I’m obviously not complaining, but you three seem to have a TMI issue when we text, so why didn’t any of you tell me?”
For what might’ve been the first time in his life, Punz’s mouth stayed shut. Call the fuckin’ presses. You pushed down your instinct to say something snarky (or maybe just bratty) and pulled your chin out of his shoulder to look at him properly. And oh what a pretty pink he was.
He finally caved to your unintentional puppy eyes, stubbornly looking away. “We were kinda worried you’d say no… and we thought it’d be better to hear it in person than over text.”
The truck doors clanked open then shut again, and the two were now pulling the tarp off the bed, but your eyes were stuck on Punz. “You all drove an hour and bought pizza… while thinking I might not agree?”
“... Look, I never claimed we were smart-”
“That is the sweetest thing a guy’s ever done for me,” gushed out of you before you could think of the ramifications of admitting that. You slammed your lips over his in an effort to keep him from thinking too hard on it, kissing your way into his mouth. “You guys,” you breathed between kisses as you started peppering them all across his face, “are the absolute-” mwah mwah mwah, “best ever! Gotta be careful-” mwah, “if you ever wanna get rid of me-”
“Never,” he declared without hesitation, chasing after your lips. “Today was your chance to tell us to get lost. You get another in eleven to twelve business days.”
“Oh? Which days are business days?”
“Every third Groundhog’s Day.”
Giggles burst from your lips just as another set of hands snatched your waist. “What are you two talking about over here,” Sam hummed against your ear. You could feel his lips curl into a grin as his fingers ran light circles over your sensitive skin, turning a slight laugh into an absolute fit. “Come here, you, let’s get you into the bed. Hup!” He lifted you out of Punz’s arms and right into Sapnap’s waiting ones from where he stood in the truck bed.
“Hey, sugar,” he sang. The truck rocked as all your boys clambered in, but Sap did his best to keep you steady as he laid you in an absolute nest of pillows they’d prepared. Couch cushions, bed pillows, and even a body pillow with a hockey player posing like a Playboy bunny. “There you go,” he muttered to himself, tucking into your side like he hadn’t just been stuck on you like superglue. His lips ghosted over your cheek. “You gonna let us feed you now?”
“How the hell do you come that hard and walk around like nothing?”
He blinked. “Why do you sound mad about it?”
“I am mad about it! You practically killed me, and now you’re carrying me!”
“Well, it’s not like you’re heavy.”
You gave a pointed look down at your thick thighs and thicker stomach. “Hon, I weigh like-”
“Mushrooms or no?” The truck suspension strained as Sam threw himself down next to you, two pizza boxes bouncing on his lap. “We’ll need you to eat at least one slice, since someone interrupted before we could do any other aftercare-”
“Oh, fuck off! You can fuckin’ Venmo me for the pizza if you keep bitching.”
“I paid for gas! Make Sapnap pitch in for once!”
“Excuse you,” Sapnap huffed, wrestling with a two-liter of coke, “I’m baby, bitch.”
You found yourself chuckling and shaking your head as they argued, blooming warmth filling your chest.
Contrasting with the wet cold between your thighs.
“Punz-” He stopped swiping at Sapnap to give you his full attention, and for a moment you thought you should be an adult. Tell him to find you something to clean yourself with, and tell Sam or Sapnap or whoever stole your panties to give them back. You should act like a mature woman who knows how to handle a two-night stand, but instead you find yourself pouting at him, knowing it would make him cave to anything you asked. “They left me empty and cold.”
Sam and Sap burst into protests.
“Left you?!”
“The audacity-”
“Oh, you poor little bunny,” Punz laughed, scooping you right up and taking your place. He squeezed you tight, dotting his lips across your neck to hear you giggle as his breath tickled the sensitive skin. “Bastards been neglecting you?”
Sapnap had produced a handful of shot glasses that he filled with soda and passed around. “Oh, yeah, she was real fuckin’ neglected when she was coming on my cock.”
“She needs all three of us to be happy,” Sam agreed, taking the shot. “Why did you bring shot glasses?”
“Why didn’t you bring alcohol?”
“Lift your hips for me, bunny,” Punz muttered, squeezing your waist. “I’ll pull down my shorts for you and we can have a nice warm cuddle while we watch the movie.”
You pushed up to your knees, hands from either side snapping to hold you steady. “You’re all such worry warts,” you laughed, accepting a shot of coke and passing it back for a refill.
“Oh, forgive us, sugar: we’re not eager to watch the gorgeous babe who puts up with all three of our dumb asses crack her head open.”
You felt Punz run his smooth tip through your folds, letting Sapnap’s cum slick up his shaft before he led you to ease your hips back. You managed to choke your moan as he spread you back open, biting your tongue until you were seated all the way back on his lap. “Fuck- I’m good, I’m good.”
“You’re good?”
You sighed as the stretch quickly faded from being fucked open so recently, leaving only the blissful feeling of being perfectly filled. “I’m so good.” Sam offered you a slice and you took it, downing a testing nibble and then three big bites of melty cheese as you realized maybe their fuck-then-feed method held some water after all. “What are we watching?”
Sam presented a remote with a flourish, pointing it at the white sheet strung up in the treeline and pushing a button. “We are watching- fuck.” He flipped the remote around to point it at the projector on the roof of the cab. You weren’t sure how much of this was set up before or how much you were oblivious to while Punz coddled you, but either way something squeezed in your chest. “We’re watching Die Hard, because it’s a goddamn masterpiece.”
You nodded. “You got the second one for after?”
“Of course,”
“And the third?”
“You’re cute. Don’t push it.”
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Pleased to meet you, chapter 12
Summary: You gave in to Benny, sort of, and now you have to go buy a goddamn car. You and Frankie find yourselves alone together for the first time in nearly 16 years.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.
Rating: Explicit 🔞
TW: cryptic mention of self-harm.
A/N: Voilà, they're talking. Jfc the struggle... I'm still in a state of shock (and exhaustion). I think I'm satisfied about the substance of this chapter, not so sure about the form. Some of you might recognise some lines from the movie... I'm insanely grateful for anyone who interacts with this story, for your support and for sticking with them this far! *presses post now and goes drink a tall glass of Bailey's*
Word Count: 7.1k (oops)
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Chapter 12: The Drive Home
The two of you didn’t talk much over the course of the weekend because there was no need for words. The synchronicity between you was evident, if one that he couldn’t explain. The implicit trust and shameless want he saw in your wide eyes was a high he never found anywhere else, no matter how many drugs he tried.
You were you, and you craved him.
Most of the talking had been done on the fire escape. Favourite books, favourite movies, favourite musics. Politics and values, dreams and allegiances. The differences welcome, no real divergence, only promises.
In retrospect, this was another regret. So many questions he should have asked. He never forgot your reaction when he called you baby. How you tensed up in his hold like a wild animal, like you’d never known love, or you had forgotten that life could be sweet. Your sadness had torn a gaping hole in his chest. How many times had you say, “sorry”? The first night, at least. He’d spent the following days erasing it, thoroughly, lovingly. There was what you were, and what you’d been taught. Who had done this to you?
And yet, in spite of your apparent wounds, you had let him in. Your softness towards him all the more special. Uncertain, at first, and suddenly all in. Resolutely unguarded, a strength in its own right. He wasn’t sure, then, if he possessed that kind of courage. But he knew what he felt, this consuming urge to right all the wrongs. He would gladly unleash hell on anyone trying to hurt you again.
Is Benny good enough to you? Most probably. And he should bottle up his questions and leave you the fuck alone. Turns out you didn’t need him to flourish.
He understands clearly now, with enough years behind him to name the feeling, why he’d been so eager to feed you, to get you cleaned up. He remembers that shower together, before you started fooling around again, he had come in your mouth less than an hour before, fuck he’d been relentless, and you’d taken it all.
Standing behind you in the narrow tub, he had washed your body, lathering soap with the palm of his hands on your shoulders and your back, the curve of your hips, along your thighs, his satisfaction tinged with regrets for you’d lose his scent, but he would imprint it on you again later, deeper, definite, and you kept leaning into his touch, eyes half closed, humming quietly to yourself, your skin a constant thrum. Like you’d been starved of any form of attention, of affection. He could tell. Yet he never asked.
And perhaps it had played into what had happened next, how he had lost it completely, when he took you on the bathroom floor, after nearly two days restraining himself, his arms caging you with an iron grip, his teeth sunk into the soft flesh at the base of your neck, pinching your nipples so hard you had cried out his name. Your body vibrating endlessly with it. He had to carry you back to bed.
You were still laughing from that disastrous attempt at a romantic fuck when he stepped out of the bathtub behind you. His cock felt heavy as he palmed himself through the discomfort of the condom, and he was about to take it off when his eyes flickered up to you. You were wiping the steam off the mirror above the sink with your right hand, and you turned around to face him, radiant, with a candid smile. The yellow light from the bare bulb hanging above the mirror ricocheted on every single droplet of water clinging to your body, your skin glinting in a golden hue.
You were golden.
Something snapped in his brain. His breath caught in his chest, and he shut his eyes quickly, but the vision was dancing under his eyelids and when he reopened them, his gaze had turned dark and wild. He was on you in one step, his right hand curled around your nape. He pulled you in with all of his strength, tilting your head up with a tug of your hair, his mouth crushing your mouth, his tongue forcing you open. You responded immediately, his hunger bleeding into you through the kiss and you sank your nails in his back and his shoulder. It felt more like wrestling than kissing, your bodies slippery and wet, and he laid you down underneath him on the rough rug as you whispered a needless plea he couldn’t hear, with the thunderous noise of the blood rushing in his ears.
He had fucked into you at a punishing pace, with the maddening thought of ripping that damn condom off his cock to have you bare and paint your slick walls with his cum, his blunt head bumping against the cup of your cervix and it still wasn’t enough. He had to possess you, encase every part of your body with his, crush you with his weight, mark your skin with his mouth and his teeth and his spit and his cum, fuck your cunt, your mouth, your ass, your tits with his cock, his fingers, his tongue. Ruin you for other men. You were his. He was yours.
He should have been terrified by the intensity of it, and perhaps he was, but your every movement spoke that confession.
There hadn’t been anything to fear within the realm of the orange bedroom. But then, how to explain the deafening silence that came when he never heard your voice again?
He waited. He waited on the car ride with his sister to basic training, realising in a panic that you two hadn’t even exchanged last names. He waited the following hours, days and weeks. He waited as he helplessly observed the quick fading of the red crescents your nails had left on his skin. He waited all through the pilot training program, his first tour and the second. He waited, patient and focused and cool-headed, and with each passing year, the certainty waned. He waited until one day his phone got stolen, and a Verizon vendor who looked like a drowned rat flatly told him he had to change his line. He had remained perfectly calm, but he could have murdered the man.
What began after that was a brand-new kind of hell. One morning he woke up and he couldn’t convoke the memory of your taste. That was when he started fucking all these random women, their faces and bodies morphing into a blurry composite of anonymous features. The doubt drove him insane, but he could no longer find it in himself to believe it had really happened. Maybe he had dreamed you. A filthy fever dream that had meant everything. Finding the book with your red lips etched on the page barely helped, only adding to his confusion, edging on resentment.
But when he saw you, when he saw you walking into the familiar setting of the bar where he meets with his friends every week, holding Benny’s hand, beyond the fury of those years, beyond the anger and the pain, he looked into your eyes and found hope again.
So now he’s back to waiting. Back to that goddamn piece of plastic burning through the back pocket of his jeans. But waiting is fine. Waiting is seven years of his life. Nearly a sixth of his years. He knows how to handle that. Waiting is what was before everything went south, before his phone got stolen, before his first kill, before Al-Qa’im, before the brothels and before the doubt.
And so, he waits. He waits as April slowly dies, as May drags by and as June blossoms under a thin drizzle. He waits until, one perfectly mundane Thursday morning, you text him. Three messages sent in quick succession.
Hey. Is this coming Saturday at 10am ok for you?
It’s me by the way.
He stares at your name. It’s been 16 years since he’s said it out loud. His thumb hovers over the screen. He tells himself the burning sensation from the scar on his left side isn’t real. It’s not pain. It’s guilt.
—
Yea. I’ll pick you up outside your building.
Frankie
You never gave him your address and he hasn’t asked, you have to assume Benny gave it to him. Have to.
Nine weeks and four days since you last saw him. Since he walked in on you in Will’s spotless kitchen, basking you in his scent and his heat and his strength, and demanded that you let him come with you to buy a car you don’t even want. A goddamn car. Not a table, or a plant, or even a TV, a goddamn car. And you didn’t even think twice. You straight up consented without taking a second to think about the consequences, just like you had instinctively and consistently reacted to everything he had ever asked.
In the course of those nine and a half weeks, you’ve reverted to the proven ways of your former life, doing what you do best: act normal amidst the rumbling storm inside your brain. Constantly, expertly compartmentalizing, your mind an oversized closet of neatly folded fears and neurosis. Immediate pleasures and comforting memories. Sadness, fondness, regrets, remorse. Restless with your time, headstrong against your anxiety, no pause to reflect. The great escape.
The very next day, you started to fill up your boyfriend’s house with your belongings, scattered across every room. Panties, bras, socks and t-shirts in the newly emptied chest drawer by the bedroom window. Books he never gives you time to read on the nightstand. Deodorant, creams and shampoo in the bathroom cabinet. An umbrella by the front door. Records stacked by the vinyl turntable. A tin mug in the kitchen. You stay there four to five nights a week, now. He is delighted.
On three separate occasions, Benny had to go away for a fight and remained out of town for a couple of days, which is not uncommon, and you ordinarily welcome the time alone.
The first time provided you with the perfect opportunity to get together with Yovanna, the two of you meeting in a downtown Russian restaurant of her choosing, sharing copious appetizers and laughs and strong liquor, along with your respective backstories, yours carefully redacted. She recounted the first twenty years of her life, traumatic by any standard, matter-of-factly and without bitterness. She defines resilience, and the following morning you woke up revived, if a little hungover.
By the time Benny had to leave again, however, an indistinct, murky dread had settled in your chest and between your shoulders. You proceeded calmly, with resolve, asking him if you could spend the evening at his place in his absence, which implied him giving you a set of keys. You trusted him not to make a big deal about it, and sure enough he didn’t, but you did not anticipate the way he made love to you that night. With an unusual softness, and intent, as if to communicate how much he had no desire to be away.
And when the time came, a Saturday, you curled up on the empty couch in the silent living-room, hunched over a book you could not focus on, eventually falling asleep on his side of the bed.
The third time had been rough, perhaps because you chose to stay at your apartment, chain-smoking again, drawing from your experience the necessary resources to hang on until dawn, when you know the morning light will dissipate your darkness. The morning always comes. All it takes is for you to bite the bullet and await. You know the dance.
You haven’t told anything to Rosie, even though you’ve had several opportunities to do so. You know what she’ll say, and you don’t care to hear it. You’re getting a car, not a room. You’re an adult. You’ll be fine.
And anyway, Rosie knows something’s not right. You haven’t missed one single Taco Tuesday since you skipped that first one, back in April, and you’ve done your absolute best to act natural, like it means something, but she’s been closely observing you ever since. Like she used to when you first arrived here, after she’d dragged you out of your isolation, like you’re a saucepan of milk over the stove, ready to overflow. You don’t know how she does it, but she knows something’s askew.
Seemingly innocuous questions of “everything good with Benny?”, “Still happy with your job?” cue you in. Sideways glances. Her dark eyes overshadowed.
And if she only had doubts, your behaviour on her 36th birthday probably confirmed them all.
She had made plans to celebrate with a girl’s night out, inviting some of her friends from work, along with Yovanna, to her favourite place, a Mexican restaurant with a garden room in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, which brought you way too close to Greenpoint for comfort.
You didn’t just get drunk, you got blackout drunk, downing shots of tequila, knowing very well your body doesn’t tolerate those, polishing off everyone’s drink until you got sick and just about passed out, and Rosie had to take you home, where you woke up with your head split in half to a handwritten note on your kitchen table that read, simply, “call me.” Which you haven’t done.
You spent the next day glued to your sheets, only crawling out of it to stick your head down the toilet bowl, throwing up, seven times, grand total, your body painfully collapsing on itself, getting rid of the alcohol, but not of the guilt, and not of the pain. No, those remained, sticking to your clammy skin, weighing down your soul.
You know this road, been down it many times. The automatic deflection through invisible, self-inflicted physical pain. You recognise the symptoms, the warning signs for that shifting cloud of thick black smoke swelling in your chest, like a fast-growing beast made of nothing tangible but two glinting, yellow eyes.
So the following day, when you got to work, you picked up your phone, and texted Frankie, at long last. When his answer came, immediate, as if he had been waiting all along with his phone in his hand and did not care in the least if it showed, you informed Benny, and asked Suzanne for your Saturday off.
A sequence of events that has you standing in front of your bedroom mirror, now, applying mascara, nervously fiddling with your hair, unsure whether you’re wearing the proper outfit. You’ve been up since dawn, and as you gulp down your third cup of coffee along with your fourth cigarette, ignoring your throbbing throat, you tell yourself it’s not really stress, it’s only the morning light, because you still haven’t installed the curtains you bought over a year ago.
You can feel a contraction building up in your left calve. It would be wise to drink some water. But you don’t.
The smell of nicotine clings to your hair and your clothes, but it’s too late to shower again, or even to change, and it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re getting a car. Not a room, after all.
Your eyes flick down to your watch for the umpteenth time. 9.55am. You peer out at the sky, through your bare bedroom window. It hangs low and overcast, the temperature chill, for mid-June. It all adds up and lies heavy on your lungs. You don’t know the first thing about buying a car, but you’re not exactly eager to take a test drive on wet asphalt.
When you pull open the front door of your building at 10am sharp, you notice the pattern formed by the wet dots as they agglomerate on the pavement.
Frankie’s here, parked just in front, as promised. Faded red t-shirt and light-coloured jeans, he’s standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the hood of his red truck, arms crossed over his chest. The vehicle is ridiculously massive but his broad figure and square shoulders look perfectly on scale. He’s been waiting for a while, judging by the dampened patches on his shoulders, but his face doesn’t show any sign of impatience. The deep lines between his eyebrows only giving the slightest hint of tension under the brim of his cap.
“Hey,” his voice sounds rusty, as if he hasn’t spoken in weeks.
“Morning,” yours is too breathy, and impossibly high.
You don’t stop and walk straight to the passenger side of the car, ignoring the way his head tilts to the right to follow you, instead cringing at how inelegant you must look, as you climb awkwardly into the high cab. You drop your bag on the floor and fasten your seatbelt, admonishing yourself, one more time, that none of it matters, not how you move, nor what you wear, nor what you smell like, because you are only getting a car.
He waits until you are settled in to join you inside and when he shuts the door, his scent fills up the space, brushing against your skin, and you pinch the side of your right thigh as hard as you can. His moves are measured and deliberate, and you will your heart to slow the fuck down and align its erratic rhythm to that of his movements.
You risk a glance in his direction when he lifts up his cap and combs his fingers through his thick dark curls. You remembered them a lighter shade of brown. During the few hours you’ve spent observing this older version of him, you’ve come to decipher the gesture. He readjusts his thoughts, just like he does his hair. Once the cap is firmly deep-set on his head, the mountain that is Francisco Morales is set in motion.
But you don’t know him anymore, not like you did. Years after years, unwanted layers of separate lives, wounds, and emotions have altered the fabric of your innate connection. He has become a guarded man, remote, distant. To you, at least.
Then why are you here?
There’s a pause and the air hangs still for a moment, save for your uneven breathing, louder than the few street noises. Frankie’s perfectly poised when he turns towards you and asks, “So where are we going?”
You blink wildly, your mouth falling open at the one question you didn’t anticipate.
“What– what do you mean, where are we going?” you stutter.
“To what dealership?” he offers patiently.
“I don’t know,” you breathe out, with a shake of your head, “you said ‘let’s go get a car’ and I–” you trail off, you don’t know how to end this sentence.
“I said, ‘let me go with you to buy a car,’” he corrects, and you sit there, dumbstruck, and exposed.
“What kind of car do you want?” he tries again, and as you remain silent, rubbing your palms on your thighs in a subconscious attempt to dry them of the sweat your entire body is breaking into, he averts his eyes, looking down at the steering wheel. A smile tugging at his lips.
“How about we go somewhere, get a drink, first?” he finally proposes. “We can talk about it, see what are the options?”
“It’s 10am,” you reply blankly, as if it makes any difference.
You immediately wince and his smile broadens.
“A coffee, then?”
—
Your nervousness drives him mad. You stare out the window as he drives, refusing to look at him and he can see your fingers compulsively fumbling along the side of your thigh when you think he’s not watching.
He put you in that impossible situation. You look pale and tired, there’s a faint smell of cigarette about you, and what’s worse is that he can’t help but smile like a fucking idiot, no matter how hard he tries to bite it down or cover it with a grimace. You’re sitting next to him in his truck. Once more, all he had to do was ask.
You look like a misplaced stereotype of a French girl in your stripped boat neck shirt, and he struggles to focus on the road, scanning the exposed skin of your neck, where it meets your shoulder, searching for a mark that has long faded.
By the time he pulls into the empty parking lot in front of the Dunkin’ on Tonnele Ave, fat raindrops are splattering on the windshield.
“You wanna stay here? Or sit inside? I can go get our orders and–”
“Oh yeah, here is nice”, you acquiesce, apparently relieved at the thought of not having to go out, “I mean it’s fine. Please.”
You say “please” like you used to say “sorry.”
“Milk, no sugar?” he asks quietly, immediately regretting it. He shouldn’t let on how much he remembers. He’s going to freak you out.
You draw in a deep breath and answer, “Please.”
—
It all begins with small talk. Absurd and mundane. The weather, the traffic, the coffee that’s never strong enough. And before either of you realise it, the parked car feels like an island, the paper cup nicely warming up your stiff hands.
You’re the first to chance a diverted evocation of your shared past, inquiring about his sister. She’s fine, he tells you, not without pride, a well-established professional photographer, whose work you’re likely to have seen in news magazines and art catalogs.
Your left knee propped up on the seat, your back leaned against the door, you’re finally facing him, your posture relaxed. His broad frame doesn’t allow him that much space, but he too seems at ease, his legs stretched as far as they can, his left arm resting on the wheel. Still, you recoil imperceptibly at his next question.
“What about you? Are you an archaeologist?”
You take the involuntary hit and think about the best way to present that part of your life, so you don’t come across as worthless as you systematically feel every time you have to discuss that particular subject.
“No,” you eventually sigh, “I failed.” Ignoring the tick of his jaw, you carry on, “I mean, I graduated, got my BA degree. But I couldn’t get any internship, just like they said. So I moved on to a master’s degree, but in contemporary history,” you chuckle at the nonsensical turnaround in your resume, easing into the topic, “and then I got tired of starving,” you laugh, lifting your palms upward, “so I became a civil servant. Got a position with the historical library of the Hôtel de Ville de Paris. I mean the Paris City Hall,” you shrug, uncertain with your whole translation.
“Did you like it? The job?” he asks.
“Well, it’s not what I had set out for. But I think it fitted me better. No pressure, no deadlines. Old books, manuscripts, first editions–” you start to enumerate before your voice fades.
“Do you miss it?”
You nod wordlessly, your throat suddenly a little tight. His voice is so low you struggle to hear him when he asks again, “Why did you leave?”
You take a brief moment to gather your thoughts, looking vacantly at the neon letters spelling Dunkin’, blurred by the rain running off the windshield. You’ve been asked this question about a million times since you’ve landed here a little over two years ago. Offering countless consensual variations of the same explanation, none of them ever sounding quite right.
Next to you, Frankie’s waiting, hung from your lips.
“I think it’s because I had a purpose, but no goal, you know?” you say as you turn toward him again, in time to see him gritting his teeth.
The crease between his brow deepens before he says, barely audible, “Do you have one, now?”
Somehow, you find it easy to maintain eye contact, and your own voice is steady as you tell him, “Yeah, I think I have.”
Frankie wants to follow up on your answer but he finds himself incapable of speaking. He doesn’t think he’d be able to bear it if you told him that the life you share with Ben provides you with both. Yet, your eyes tell a different story. Your eyes tell him this is not about a man. It is not about him, or his friend. This is entirely about you.
“None of it sounds like a failure to me,” he eventually says softly.
There’s no sign of the stress that tensed up your body earlier. He likes the sight of you sitting comfortably in his truck, absentmindedly playing with the empty paper cup in your hands. Perhaps you’d like another coffee, but he fears that if he leaves the car, he might find you gone when he returns.
Outside, a tall blond woman is running on high heels towards the front door of the Dunkin’, her gait cloddish and imbalanced has she tries not to slip. You watch her until she makes it inside.
“I don’t know. Anyway, nothing much I can do about it, anymore,” and perhaps for the first time ever, you’re ok with it. “But you, you made it! You became a pilot.”
He shakes his head, and before he can stop himself, mutters under his breath, “Yea, at what cost.”
Uncertain if you heard him right, you sit up straighter and ask, “How was it?”
“How was what?” he frowns.
“The army. Was it what you thought it would be?”
“Yes and no,” he sighs. He has never given himself the time to reflect on that before. Rather rushed in the opposite direction. “I never expected it to be easy, but– I joined so I could get my pilot’s license. And I ended up doing stuff I hadn’t really signed up for.”
“Did you ever kill anyone?”
“Why the fuck you wanna know that for?” he narrows his eyes at your face, his voice an angry rumble.
You want to crawl onto his lap and wrap your body around his, knock off that damn cap and run your fingers through his curls, get a glimpse of the lighter shades they used to shine with. You want to press your lips against his forehead, ease the crease of his brow with your thumb, let your skin reach out for him, like it used to, when words were unnecessary, you want him to hear it, because I care, because I wasn’t there, because I wish I could carry it with you. Because I spent too many nights awake, wondering where you were. Because, even when I thought the morning would never come, I hung on, in hopes that the thread between us would keep you safe and sound. Hear everything you cannot pronounce.
You lean back against the door, cranking your brain for another approach. “Did you know that Will kept a ledger of his body count?”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before running a palm over his face. “Jesus… No. But I’m not surprised. Did he tell you how many?”
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s for me to tell you. Although he’d probably tell you too, if you asked him,” you reply in a casual tone.
“You two really talk about everything,” he says with an empty smile.
“No, not everything. But we do talk a lot,” you offer no further insight into your relationship with the older Miller brother.
“And did he tell you how’s his sleep?” he snarls.
“He says it’s better than it should be,” you shrug as if you were still discussing the weather. “You haven’t answered, Frankie.”
He presses his back into the back of the seat to crush down the shivers that run down his spine when his name passes your lips. A lot may have changed. But not this.
He knows what you're doing. At least he thinks he does. And anyway, that’s another thing that hasn’t changed. To your voice, he complies.
He runs his knuckles under his chin, seemingly weighing his next words. “I did what I had to do. I was– I was often too quick on the trigger. I didn’t count them.”
Between his spread thighs, his hands have joined, his right thumb scratching the small tattoo on his left hand.
“Were you ever scared?”
“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head, “not for myself anyway. For Izzy. Anything happens to me, she’s alone.”
The leather seat creaks when you scoot closer to him, seeking his heat. He rubs his skin harder, so he won’t think about yours. The rain has become a heavy downpour, the drops falling onto the roof of the truck in a loud racket that nearly covers your voice when you speak next.
“What about that thing Tom mentioned, that night at the bar? About you being grounded. Does that mean you can’t fly anymore?”
His hands still. He turns his head and glares at you, his eyes black and cold. Your face is so soft. You said you’d take anything. But that was long ago. That was before.
He licks his lips, clears his throat. You won’t back down. So he tells you.
“I was suspended. They ran a random drug test at work,” he leaves Giovanni out of the picture, the last thing he wants is for you to think he’s not taking full responsibility for his own fuckups, “it’s a flight school for rich assholes over in upstate New York, and– they found traces of coke in my system.”
“Coke?” your eyes widen with shock as the image shoots through your chest, and he can’t stand the way you look at him right now, like you don’t know him, like you never did.
“Does it help you? With your– sleep?” There’s no judgment in your voice, and you hope it gets through to him, pass the thick skin and the shame. And, perhaps, he’s more surprised than you that it does.
“Yea,” he says, looking down at the little tattoo again, shifting in his seat, “it did, yes. And with the rest, I guess. But I’m not using, anymore. Izzy would bite my head off. She found me a good lawyer, the case got dismissed, somehow–” he shrugs, “I got my license back. I’m clear.”
“What are you going to do, now?”
“I think they’re going to take me back. I gotta go there Monday, actually.”
“I mean about your sleep, Frankie.”
God, your face is so soft.
“You don’t worry about that.”
As if it were that simple.
—
Cars have come and gone in the small parking lot. A composite Saturday morning crowd of busy moms and weekend workers hurriedly flowing in and out of the coffee shop, holding white paper bags and cardboard trays with tall paper cups.
The outside world resurfaces around Frankie, as you two sit in silence side by side in his truck.
You peeled him open. Picking out the jagged pieces of his life one by one, with infinite tenderness, and methodically reassembled them. Sought him out in the darkest confines of his existence. Left him with no place to hide. Weaved back the thread.
“I think I need another coffee,” you stiffen a yawn.
“Yea.”
The rain abated, without your realising it. You walk in together this time, and when you return to the car, you pull out your phone from your bag, to find Benny has texted you. Your eyes are heavy and your movements slow, you’re suddenly exhausted.
You answer Benny’s question, “Are you guys done?” with a half-truth about waiting for the weather to get better, inwardly smiling at his abusive use of emojis.
The conversation resumes, with more trivial topics. You mention the curtains laying untouched in a bag on your apartment’s carpeted floor.
Eventually, Frankie asks about the car again. Secondhand, you say, and small, preferably European, although you can’t say why. An expression of your homesickness, perhaps. An extra comfort.
It’s a ten-minute drive to Autoland, a dealership on Communipaw Ave that Frankie pretends to know but really only googled the previous day.
He parks in a lot across the street from the dealership, and gets out of his truck with a spring in his step.
This time, you circle the vehicle over to Frankie’s side and wait for him, uneasy and apprehensive, seeking the reassurance of his tall figure before you can take one more step. The place looks reasonably sized, for once, you’ve seen bigger ones in Parisian suburbs, but you’ve never bought a car in your life and you’re utterly out of your depth.
He looks at you as he tucks his t-shirt in his pants, and smiles. Before the two of you cross the busy road, he places a large hand on the small of your back, his fingers splayed, and gives an imperceptible squeeze. You lean into his heat, let it seep in and run through you. You’ve spent years worth of sleepless nights trying to imagine how it would feel like if he ever touched you again. Like electricity, like a dam that gives, like the end of your world. It’s none of it. It’s quiet relief. It’s a close circle.
The cotton of your shirt feels warm under his palm, it catches at the calloused pads of his work-worn fingertips. Your skin, just underneath it. It’s not it, not yet, and it can’t be. This would be the end of everything.
True to his profession’s stereotype, the salesman jumps you the very second you step into the lot and introduces himself as Gary. But the cliché ends there. Gary is a lean man of average height, in his late twenties-early thirties, with olive skin and strands of straight black hair that frame his face like a stage curtain. Shiny buckle shoes, skinny black jeans and a tight button-up shirt in a loud pattern, he looks just as misplaced as you in the somewhat depressing dealership.
Gary speaks with a quick flow you struggle to understand and swallows half his words, and when you discreetly peer up at Frankie, you catch him trying to repress a mocking smile. He tilts his head down and raises an eyebrow as he mouths, “I think he’s high.”
You’ve clearly stated what you were looking for, yet Gary keeps walking you towards sedans the size of your living-room. European, alright, Volvo and Volkswagen you wouldn’t know how to maneuver on an empty racetrack. He keeps addressing Frankie, who tries his best to suppress the scoffing off his tone every time he has to remind him that you are the client, and when Gary, at long last, takes note, he punctuates his well-rehearsed speech with a “sweetheart” that send Frankie’s shoulders heaving with a soft chuckle.
After ten minutes that feel like an hour, you lose patience and cut him mid-sentence.
“Hey listen, Gary, let’s forget about the European thing, ok? I want a small car. Small, you know, like three doors?”
“Oh yeah, right, small car, got it!”
He turns on his heels and start walking briskly. You turn to Frankie, eyebrows disappearing into your hairline as you tell him, “Is he fucking serious?” and revel in the sound of his breathy laughter.
You join Gary at the rear of the dealership, where half a dozen compact cars are parked, when his cellphone rings. Raising a heavily bejeweled index to excuse himself as he picks up, he steps away from you.
Hands on his hips, one leg extended to the side, Frankie watches you impatiently checking the time on your wristwatch.
“Hey,” he starts in a husky tone, “you know, I did fly over the Andes.”
A wildfire flares up in his chest as you lighten up with the first genuine smile he’s seen on your face since you came back into his life, one that reaches your eyes, that has you beaming, and that he recognises, and you too recognise him when he smiles back, his dimple deeper in his fuller cheek when he adds, wiggling his eyebrows, “Twice.”
You let out a thrilled little gasp, your voice failing you, a little hoarse when you whisper, “How was it? Was it what you expected?”
“Almost,” he answers.
You’re so close, so fucking close he can smell that new perfume, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not the same, your eyes are, what if he leaned in a little closer and brushed your lips with his, what if he asked you to leave with him? Would you follow him, again?
Your gaze fall on his plush lips when he licks them, but you back away at the sound of Gary’s voice, standing in front of you.
“Ok guys, sorry about that! So, small car?”
Frankie’s mouth twitches and he stares daggers at the salesman.
“Hey Gary, would you mind giving us a minute?”
He doesn’t wait for his reply to place his hand on the small of your back again, and you take a few steps with him, on shaky legs.
“Look,” his dark eyes plunge into yours, “if you don’t want a car, we can just go. Tell Benny there wasn’t much choice, which is kinda true,” he gestures towards the yard. “Just– please, promise me you’ll take a cab, when you go out at night.”
Your mind’s racing, going through the options, you need more time to think, so you stall and retort with your usual argument, “I’m a big girl–”
“From a big city, yea, I heard you the first time. Please.” There’s no scorn in his tone. You’re a big girl. He does believe that. But he needs to hear you say it.
To you, however, it doesn’t sound like a request, most definitely like a direct order, and your mind reels unwillingly as you picture him on the field, in his military uniform, a gun in his deft hands, shouting instructions in his assertive, deep tone, his force and temper barely contained. You’ve seen his control slip. Experienced it firsthand. And you’ve no business being this aroused right now.
You let it ripple down your limbs before you push it away, before you sigh, “Ok. Let’s go, then. I’ve had more than I can take.”
Getting rid of Gary proves itself challenging. He follows you all the way back to the street and hands you a business card you politely decline at first, before changing your mind, in hopes it will shake him off faster.
His nasal voice is still ringing in your ears when you climb back into the safe-haven of Frankie’s truck. He turns on the ignition and merges into traffic, taking the direction of your apartment, the only possible destination, the decision tacit and unspoken.
This time, you watch him drive. In fact, you can’t stop staring, the lean muscles undulating under the freckled skin of his forearms, the shape of his solid shoulders, the line of his throat, and the curls on his nape, the sharp edges of his profile, the bare patch in his beard, the thin wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. For the first time, you notice his watch, big, square, utilitarian.
You jolt yourself out of your trance and decide to call Benny. You can hear his disappointment through the phone, and you feel terrible, like you haven’t tried hard enough, before it occurs to you that the last time you placed your own needs below those of the man you shared your life with, it didn't end up so well. Granted, Benny’s not Éric, not by a stretch, which might be the very reason why it affects you now. So you repeat your promise to take taxis at night, Frankie’s eyes flicking between you and the road.
He steers slowly through midday traffic, praying for red lights. The silent stillness between you hangs heavy when he double-parks in front of your red brick building. You can’t move. Not when you don’t know if you’ll see him again.
Drawing in a shaky breath, you gather your strength and unfasten your seatbelt, Frankie once more lifting his cap to readjust his hair.
“I never thanked you. For coming with me, today. For your help–” you trail off.
The sun has come out and you feel hot in your jeans and thick t-shirt. He doesn’t look at you, his head down, his brow once more knitted.
“I– I guess I’ll see you,” you murmur.
You want to wish him good luck, for Monday, ask him to call you afterwards to tell you how it went, but it all gets stuck in the back of your throat, so you grab your bag, instead, and put your hand on the door handle.
He moves fast, gripping your arm, unclenching his jaw to ask you to “Wait.”
You face him, resigned. If not ready. You know what’s coming.
Funny how, when the opportunity finally presents itself to get an answer to the one question that has obsessed him his entire adult life, the words won’t come out. And Frankie struggles to look at you as he whispers, “Why didn’t you call?”
You take the punch, breathing in deeply, thinking that the question you so dreaded wasn’t that terrible, after all, when you register the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
“What’s it gonna change, now?”
He lets go of your arm. “Please,” he breathes out.
Images overlap as your vision blurs, your last kiss, not far from here, so long ago, you cupped his face with both hands and sought his eyes with yours.
You blink back the memory before you open your bag and pull out your wallet, moving slowly, as if in a dream, your body rebelling against the injunctions from your brain. You take the rectangular note, and with a trembling hand, place it on his lap. Frankie tilts down his head, narrowing his eyes on the little piece of paper, ink-stained and torn out. You’re not sure that he understands what he’s looking at.
“I got caught in a rainstorm on my way back to Rosie.” It’s hard to speak with the heavy lump in your throat. “I– I was going to call you, that night, but that’s all that was left of your number.” You pause to aggressively brush off a stray tear rolling down your cheek. “I went back to your place, I thought I might catch your sister. I was too late.”
Look at me, Frankie. I tried. I swear.
Frankie hasn’t moved. He’s glaring at the paper, teeth clenched, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils.
Wiping another tear from your cheek, you open the door and get out of the car. Your strides are long and hurried as you walk toward the front door of your building.
****
Additional note: Thank you for reading this far 💕
I have no idea when I'll be able to work on and post the next chapter. Good news is, it's already half done, and entirely outlined. However, it is also my favourite, so I want to make sure I get it right. I am truly exhausted and clearly need to refill. Plus the holidays are never easy on my mental health... Everyone, be gentle to yourselves in this time of year 🧡 I'll keep you posted (bad pun always intended). Never hesitate to drop me an ask, I really love those. Love 🧡
Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos
#pleased to meet you#Francisco Catfish Morales#Frankie Morales#The Pilot™️#frankie morales x fem!reader#frankie morales x you#triple frontier fic#ben miller#benny miller#santiago pope garcia#will miller#william ironhead miller#triple frontier#pedro pascal#garret hedlund#oscar isaac#charlie hunnam#frankie friday#my beloved Yovanna#adria arjona#feral frankie friday#francisco catfish morales#the pilot™️#the husband one#the one and only#Frankie#Frankie morales x fem!reader#frankie morales x ofc#frankie morales/fem!reader#frankie morales/you
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Ok jfc fuck me im sitting here at WORK and I just
1- Vintage Staticmoth cameraman Vox/PornStar Val—Vals pimp would sweetly tormenting Vox under the cover of “needing the best angle” and making him get on the bed with his little handheld recorder under Val while he’s getting railed for those so absolutely necessary upshot perspectives. He’s not allowed to touch but Val is on top of him giving his best performance, grinding on cock, and there’s so much heat he can’t breathe and his lap is soaked because Val and his John are dripping over him and Valentino is looking him straight in the eye. It’s not enough and everything he’s ever wanted at the same time.
Their boss makes Vox thank him for letting Val grinding on top of him at a discount (yeah he docks his pay for this) because he knows how down bad the loser is for his prized whore. And hey if Vox behaves and stays in his lane maybe next time he’ll let Valentino say his name when he cums, wouldn’t that be a nice treat for both of them?
2-current day— Vox actually misses filming those upshots and since his whole face can function as a camera now with all his nice upgrades he loves having Val ride his tongue and cum on his screen for their own private movie collection
Vox is nearly alone in the room. It is dark and the air is thick after all the fucking that‘s been going on throughout the day.
It would be too disgusting if it weren‘t tempered by the sweet perfume Valentino is oozing out of every pore.
Behind him, the moth is slightly moving in his cage, a soft rustling of him adjusting his wings anew; a little trilling whimper that he might just be so used to that he is doing it in his sleep.
Vox turns and peers behind him. From the dim light of the screen and his own face, he can see Valentino curled up like the pet he is, using his neck fur as a makeshift pillow. He is not quite sleeping, though. He just pretends to be.
Vox can see the tiny red slits of his eyes that he keeps cracked open. He must not realize Vox can see his bluff and he lets him be for now.
He turns back around and stares at the screen he‘s got there with the still frame of Valentino‘s cock, his plump little cunt beneath stretched almost brutally around a cock.
Vox bounces his leg restlessly, then presses the play button.
His camera work is excellent as always, of course. He does not really need to sit here and review the footage, he does not need to tinker with it much.
But he needs to see Val in action again. He needs to relive the moments of him beneath the tall demon, filming as he is getting railed. He needs to make a copy of the *sounds* he made while speared on cock.
All trilling and high-pitched and sloppy, tongue dangling from his sharp toothed mouth.
Vox‘ camera work is so good that it‘s barely noticeable how one stud stops fucking and another takes his place. It seems like one continuous session. One hyper potent bull that fucks Valentino until all four arms cave and he stops trilling and starts *wailing*.
He‘s been so close to Vox like that. Eye to eye. Almost like *Vox* was the one fucking him and abusing this perfect little peach he‘s got. The one that‘s all swollen now from the rough treatment.
He hadn‘t been able to keep himself from kissing Val. Wet and needy. Just one more thing Val‘s Master and Vox‘ employer took out of his paycheck. But it was worth it.
He keeps stopping and rewinding and repeating the same scenes, the object of his obsession just feet away curled up in a cage. Waiting for the next time he‘s drug out to perform like a circus animal.
Vox aches.
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Untitled Cunningrove
tragically I’m on a roll today when it comes to shitty oneshots with no fucking direction lol. now it’s an infinitely more emo calicheer one compared to the cheersc00ps one from earlier.
also took the brave stance I didn’t on the cheersc00ps one and just fucking called it untitled bc jfc titles are evil and these are so whatever they don’t really inspire any ideas for one 💀
Rating: G
Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Chrissy Cunningham (cunningrove/calicheer)
Chrissy kissed Billy’s jaw again. She hated when he was all beat up like this but she was helpless to do anything about it. She couldn’t stop his father and she could rarely stop Billy when the switch flipped and he got into a fight. His arm was tight around her upper arms, her legs over one of his broad thighs. His grip on her was tight as he held her to him. Putting her legs like that over a guy’s in public wasn’t something she was actually very comfy with but she knew Billy really liked it when she was as close as possible so she did it anyway.
She knew how they looked, Billy with his bruises smoking before they went into their movie and her this preppy little waif clutched to his side tightly. He’d look like a bad guy and her like she was too scared to leave him. Even when he wasn’t battered Billy had a way of setting his face that screamed “don’t fuck with me”and he used it a lot. Her hand was on his chest under his open button up shirt and over his heart. It bothered her when people thought he hurt her or that controlled her just because he wasn’t very nice to talk to. She just had to keep reminding herself that they didn’t actually know him, they only saw him out in the world with no context for who he really was.
READ ON AO3
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I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet, but I’m a very, very visual girlie. And the fact that every fic your beautiful brain has crafted has made me actually visualize myself in the setting is CRAZY. I truly feel like I’m in the story. I’m watching movies when I read your work.
5 part fic? 11? 1? I don’t give a hoot. Your writing brings me in time and time again.
This part?????? Goodness I could picture it all…
“Steve was crying.
Without even thinking about it, you went outside, walked out towards the pool, up the steps to the diving board and walked down the length of it. Your movement made the whole thing wobble, made Steve hold onto the sides for fear of falling off.
Steve looked over his shoulder, was ready to make an excuse, was ready to get up and off this balancing board, but he didn’t stand a fucking chance because you plopped down and wrapped yourself around him like a backpack. Hugged him tight until the swaying board you were sat on stilled.
Steve hugged back with awkward arms that hugged himself in the process, the two of you sat like that for a little while, your cheek pressed into his shoulder blade. The sun in your eyes and warm on your hair.”
-
And then this below……..how dare????? Wowie you just did this? Your brain just said okay, here’s perfection in verbal form…take it, sis. Come ON girlie…this is just…WOW. It’s perfect.
“Some things just... came in threes.
Rock, paper, scissors. The colours of traffic lights. The amount of feet in a yard. The amount of teaspoons in a tablespoons.
Morning, noon and evening. Sun, wind and rain. Birth, life and death. Past, present and future.”
Another masterful piece, bestie. You’ve outdone yourself again.
how DARE you do this to me ???!!!?! to just... send me shit like this on a random Saturday afternoon, hurt me in my CHEST with this jfc, im calling the cops
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Bad headspace hcs
Hi. Welcome back to me ignoring my finals.
Warnings: Mentions of grave robbing, mentions of corpses, mentions of schizophrenia, depression, and eating disorder, violence
Mary Goore:
This is where the weird and sick fantasies happen
They'll visit the cemetery more and dig up some graves
Mainly they'll rob and/or sketch the skeleton or even decayed body that's inside the casket
Sometimes they'll go further, but that's depending on if the voices are acting up again
Mary deals with residual schizophrenia and sometimes forgets to take his medication please get them a fucking daily pill counter jfc he needs help
When they're in this headspace, you're best off to just leave him alone. Mary becomes more unpredictable and even violent due to the intrusive thoughts that won't shut up and heightened paranoia
This episode typically lasts a few days, but on the off chance it's particularly bad, it could be up to a month
Just let them reach out to you whenever they're ready
"Sorry I've been MIA for a while. The voices wouldn't stfu. Wanna hang out later?"
DD Sars
Swings between manic episodes to becoming a hermit for a while
Probably needs antidepressants but doesn't have any
He couldn't stand the side effects from his old prescription but ended up changing insurance before he could ask for a new prescription
Was told he was fine and didn't need any medication from a nurse, then told to come back to the hospital if he felt bad again
Absolutely doesn't trust doctors now and refuses to ask them for help with both his depression and eating disorder
"I'm fine." said with a forced and angry smile
You can interact with DD and he'll genuinely tell you what's wrong. He worries a lot so he's grateful if you let him vent for a bit
Promises to try and eat more and take care of himself but will 100% admit when he's too tired to even get out of bed
Doesn't want you to worry about him but he appreciates the concern
G. Grotesque
He'll start digging up graves but not for the same reason as Mary
Normally, G. suffers alone and silently, but sometimes he bottles up his emotions too much and suddenly everything bursts out at once
Refuses to admit anything is wrong to anyone (DD's the only one that can trick him into talking)
But when it gets too bad, G. will dig up a grave just so he can stab a body repeatedly
Doesn't stop until he physically cannot keep going
If you catch him doing this, he absolutely breaks down sobbing in your arms
"I can't take it anymore! It hurts!"
He'll let you take him home and coddle him because he's too drained to do anything else
He'll feel better in a couple days after entirely breaking down. He just has to calm down for a bit
E. Forcas
Stays home and actually stops speaking
Everything takes too much energy and he's too busy fighting for his fucking life to verbally talk
Please only ask him yes or no questions. It's easier for him to nod or shake his head
Doesn't act out at all like the others but there's a distinct look in his eyes
Thousand yard stare all the way. If you come over, he'll just look in your direction but not at you
Doesn't mind if you watch movies with him or even cuddle, but he's just going to be silent for the entire stay
When he does get enough energy, he'll finally look you in the eye. Still doesn't entirely focus on you, but it's a step in the right direction
"Could you spend the night with me? I don't wanna be alone anymore."
Please stay with him for a while. The company helps more than he'll ever let on
#so anyway-#mary goore#dd sars#g grotesque#e forcas#slowly expanding to the rest of the band#repugnant#hcs#headcanons#Mentions of grave robbing#mentions of corpses#mentions of schizophrenia#mentions of depression#mentions of eating disorder#violence
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Cuddles with the moon boys?? (honestly my dream they’d be so soft and warm 🥺)
MARC SPECTOR! IS SO! FUCKING! TOUCH STARVED! the first time you cuddle with him he’s a little stiff bc like “what the fuck is this???”, he kind of just lets you do what you want. the second time he puts his arm around you and plays with your hair a bit, his cheeks red the entire time and he eventually gets more and more comfortable each time you snuggle until there are times where he practically begs for you just to hold him. he turns into such a fucking snuggler jfc ugh he loves laying on top of you and you love the weight of him and he loves to spoon while you fall asleep and like he loves being the big spoon but he also loves being the little spoon because you press your nose into the back of his neck and he can feel you breathing and my heart hurts
steven likes keeping you in his lap as much as possible — he loves reading you to while you curl up on him, loves watching movies with you perched on his thigh, fuck he even loves having you in his lap while the two of you eat dinner. he loves it when you throw your leg over his hip while you’re in bed, your other hand on his chest over his heart and you constantly tease him because sometimes you can feel his heart rate spike and ugh sweet little angle baby
jake is like a goddamn koala like he loves hanging on you while you cook, draping his arms over your body while you share a shower, etc.. and like he’s constantly asking you for hugs when he’s home and he won’t let go for so long and you’re never the first to pull away. his favorite way to sleep is with you on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you because he just loves feeling like he’s keeping you safe and ughhhhh these boys
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oh god, it's been more than a year since I stayed in this fanbase. As I look at my old arts, the way I drew some of these characters did change a lot and some are still similar to each other- Note that most of the characters here are either from the original RH or AU version made by me!
I think the way I draw Joe changed a lot lmao, I was too dependent on the Rhythm Heaven art style so I use thick lines. I start to experiment with my art style to be more comfortable with it around May 5, 2021. My style is leaning toward anime or those who play with lighting to create a specific ambiance. Yes, I did use a circle tool for May 8 and August 8 because I just gave up that time HSDGDS I kinda wish I could have the style from July 12, 2021, for me that looks perfect!!
I definitely didn't do well from April 3 to May 13 holy shi- If I can show the full picture, the hair looks unbalanced and shaped like a cone. I became more satisfied with the style on September 7, 2021. I start to add some hair shading on August 4 to show the light source, a little kind of experiment. I also noticed his glasses bridge is getting thinner every time I drew him and it gets less detailed- I don't have a personal favorite style yet, I'm still trying to experiment on him.
This dude is so hard to draw, deadass. I was in pain trying to get a perfect circle without using a circle tool 😭 I also realize that I drew his legs very long when I redesigned Stomp Farmer. I believe I still do that until now, along with the arms- frequently they appear to be long or short. I remember I always struggle drawing his hat jfc- Now I am getting the hang of it! Not to mention that 99% of the artwork is just his face being " >:( " LMAOO I need to work on other expressions more,,, I am digging the October 31, 2021 art style, but I am not a fan of drawing with extremely thin and colored lines.
I have barely drawn Samurai since 2021, I only have drawn him 11 times. But drawing him makes me want to develop his story more (both headcanon and AU). I always struggle to get his head shape and hairline right and I still do until now- My style always changes on him, it might depend on which Samurai I am drawing. August 2, 2022 deadass looks like a Disney Pixar movie dad, my friend told me that... I mean??- 😭 It's probably that version is way younger than the others I have drawn.
I have drawn other characters but I never draw them as much as the 4 characters above. Hopefully I will draw more variations in the future!
#rhythm heaven ds#rhythm heaven#rhythm heaven fever#rhythm heaven megamix#rhythm tengoku#rhythm paradise#karate man#stomp farmer#the wandering samurai
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NEW MOON
oops, i thought eclipse was before new moon
new moon is my favourite of the 5
mainly because i prefer the wolves
AHFGHGDHFHGCHG
CHARLIE!!!!!
ANGELA MY LOVE
jesus christ
lol
why do you say rabbit like that?
fucking hell
they're not even quiet about it.
the parallels to the R&J scene and the bit with the Volturi
lol, i thought vampires were supposed to be beautiful
DEMETRI!!!!!
lol
ew, shut up
ROSE MY LOVE
shut up Emmett
god
fucking idiot
i never thought these words would ever leave my mouth but PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH
when i cut my finger my first instinct is to press on the wound so more blood comes out because it fascinates me, yours should be to cover it because you are in a ROOM FULL OF VAMPIRES.
how does the hair changing work for this kind of vampire?
because Jasper and Alice seem to have a different haircut every movie
THE CHIN TAP
FUCK
HOLY BALLS
clearly not
jesus sorry, I'm ignoring what's happening and trying to remember how to spell, apparently i can't spell it so clearly will have to do.
shut up, look at her bro
gasp
seriously
YAY TIME FOR THE WOLVES
look at her you little coward
shut up
there's not a single thought behind those eyes.
oh lovely, lead her out to the middle of nowhere then adandon her
what the fuck
thats not creepy at all
SAM!!!!!
is a bit weird tbh
THERE'S A POSSIBILTY THERE'S A POSSIBILTY
MM, MM-MM, MM-MM, MM-MM, MM, MM-MM, MM-MM, MM-MM
what are these nightmares from? PTSD or from the codependency?
ANGELA MY LOVE
oh my fucking god
this is not going to help.
ffs
skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip
girl, just go to therapy, jesus christ
BELLA WHERE THE HELL YOU BEEN LOCA
SHOW ME THE BOY
GIVE HIM TO ME
ew, age is not just a number, you fucking pedophile
EMBRY, MY LOVE
AHSHDFVHGSDFV
good one, shithead
Charlie be my dad (NOT IN A SEXUAL WAY)
his voice irritates my brain
stop talking like that
skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip skip
idiot
that's not enough blood for a head wound
ANGELA MY LOVE
stop
secondhand embarrassment
aren't you with Jessica?
jesus christ
Jacob is supposed to be 16, oh my god
lol
dont start with that toxic masculinty shit
you gotta stop bro
oh my god
'And you think I'm sort of... beautiful..' shut all the way up
STOP
pfft
i'm gonna hurl
ooo
hes losing it
Harry <3
jfc
stop looking
oop
'everyone' then proceeds to only name one person
oh my fucking god
how is that a 16 year old?
what, you expect flowers to last that long? do you not how the seasons work?
that's Sam right?
oh, they're all here, never mind
jesus christ Bella
wait she's 18 at this point right? and he's 16...
put a shirt on
liar
jesus, they're both bad for her.
he's got a fucking 8 pack
PAUL!!!!
oop
jesus christ
i fucking hate this so much
oh my god
jesus christ
EMBRY!!!!! god i love him
EMILY!!!!!!!!!!!! BE MY MOTHER
awe
grumpy x sunshine
AHAHJHDSFVJHS
what the hell
are you a fucking idiot?
oh shit
i hate that Harry died but i get Seth and Leah out of it so, i'm conflicted.
idiot
what kind of cpr was that
yeah, while you were attention seeking, Harry was dying.
eyeroll
fucking hell, that's not how this works, you stupid bitch
oh my fucking god
this treaty has been around long before you were even a thought.
*eyeroll so hard i do a backflip*
why do i do this to myself?
just yell, you idiot
*eyeroll so hard my eyes get stuck*
DEMETRI!!!!
FELIX!!!!
JANE MY LOVE!!!!!!
I FUCKING LOVE HER SO FUCKING MUCH
has Demetri always sounded like that?
ALEC!!!!!!
oop
shut up, Jamie Campbell Bower
oh my god
Felix, did your hand get bigger?
creepy little pervert
i see why Michael is always cast as the creepy weirdo.
oh god, i just noticed the children
why are you acting like you literally didn't just try to kill yourself??
Jesus, with the number of times I've rolled my eyes I'm surprised they haven't gotten stuck.
I'm gonna barf
his arms are the size of my fucking head
awe
oh my fucking god
I'M GOING TO SLAM MY HEAD INTO THE FUCKING WALL UNTIL I FUCKING DIE
I HATE YOU
I HATE ALL THREE OF YOU
see what you did, you've fucked up both their lives.
you've been together for like 5 minutes
#twilight#twiligh new moon#new moon#embry call#paul lalote#charlie swan#bella swan#sam uley#carlisle cullen#jacob black#emmett cullen#twilight commentry#rosalie hale#emily young#jane volturi#alec volturi#felix volturi#demetri volturi#liveblog
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tags : NSFW, reader has a cunt, yall are 19-20, cove is prbly a bit ooc but that's what time skip is for- new confidence!!!, dom cove is so sexy jfc
synopsis : you get an anklet with coves name on it
the first time cove sees it is when you're laying on the couch together and when you sit down on the couch again, you prop your legs on his lap.
cove looks down, to take a look at your choice of jewelry and there, all shiny and gold with a pretty blue gem at the end, is his name on the little gold plate...
you're so deep into the movie you don't notice at first but cove inhales sharply as he looks at the plate.
you didn't tell him you were getting it, that's why you set up this whole situation for him to see it, you were nervous and the movie distracted you.
until cove's grip on your ankle tightened and suddenly you were once again aware of the anklet and cove.
"..y/n, wha-" cove swallows, face flushing and body heating up. "what's this?"
your heart is beating wildly, but seeing how cove is affected, you can't not tease him. "do you like it?"
you smirk, noticing cove's gaze darkening with lust. "i thought you'd like it, plus it kinda marks me as yours, don't ya think?"
cove exhales shakily, hiding his face in his hands.
it's so simple. innocent when you're looking at it from the outside, in.. but you know how sexy cove thinks they are and you tease him every time with a sly joke or by wearing an anklet for a date.
but this is so different from other times.
cove isn't possessive or a jealous type, and maybe its because baxter flirted with you at the beginning of sumer, but something about his name on your anklet makes something primal burn in his core...
cove could be brave and assertive when he wanted to be; and now was one of those times.
he had you in his lap, fingers buried in the heat of your cunt and thrusting them against your wet gummy walls, hitting your sweet spots with his fingers and curling them into those delicious spots.
you squirmed, restrained by cove's ankles over your leg to keep your legs spread open for him while he massaged your insides.
"ah! cove!"
you grind your hips against his fingers, feeling them bump your cervix and you inhale sharply, shaking with pleasure.
"more cove, please more.." cove sucks a mark under your jaw, the biting of his teeth against your skin makes you tremble.
"you like my fingers though.." cove kisses down your neck, working on a new mark when he finds a suitable spot.
"ah! yes but, i-i want more!" you whine when cove pulls out his fingers, and your cunt throbs as cove sucks your slick off his digits.
he lays you down on the bed, your lips locked in a heated kiss with his hand cradling the back of your neck and your nails running down his arms.
cove fumbles for a condom and lube, chasing your lips as he pulls away to strip his boxers.
cove throws the packaging on the floor, a bit eager to be connected with you. he rolls the condom over his cock and lubes up his fingers, kissing you feverishly while he stretches you again with lubed digits, preparing you for a long night.
cove folds one of you legs up, the warmth of his hand on the back of your thighs making you tingle and squirm from the heat radiating from the two of you.
the leg with the anklet is over his shoulder, cove showers kisses on the ankle and as he pushes into your wet cunt he sucks on the skin, leaving red love bites on your ankle.
most times, cove fucked you tenderly, taking his time to unravel you. but he looks at the anklet again and it makes his stomach stir with lust and he starts fucking you shallow and deep.
he latches onto your chest, nibbling and sucking on your nipples and leaving faint love bites along the tender area.
"cove, harder! i'm gonna- ah!" cove's hard thrust cuts you off, his cock hitting a spongy spot near your cervix.
"you're so sexy.." cove grunts and holds your hand, using his body to keep your legs folded in half and he shifts his hips to fuck you harder.
the sound of his cock stirring up your insides, your wet pussy squelched with each thrust and it made both of you hot on the inside.
cove buried his face in your neck, "fuck i'm close.. come with me." cove reaches between you, rubbing your clit.
between cove rubbing your clit and his cock slamming inside of you, you dig your nails into his back, your cunt tightening and fluttering around him as he finished with you.
you held onto each other for a moment before cove got up, tying off the condom and laying next to you.
"so i take it you like the anklet?"
"..y/n!"
#our life: beginnings & always#cove holden smut#cove x reader#cove x mc#cove holden#cove holden x reader#smut
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Hey, hey, Auds, my love, how are you? I’m here with another question, when do you think Ian and Mickey’s first “come here” was? Who said it? In what context? Was it soft and intimate? Heated and passionate? Lemme know😘💜
Chey!! I've thought a lot about this and I have THOUGHTS. (Jfc this got away from me. Put it under the cut for your scrolling pleasure)
I think the first "come here" happened at the sleepover.
Not long after this subtle (🤣) look:
They're sitting on the couch, not even watching the movie or eating the pizza rolls. But they are drinking and thank god for that because a little liquid courage never hurt anything.
Ian's been dying to kiss Mickey again, that van kiss was fantastic but Ian has always been a "Okay I like that, need more every day" kind of guy. (His pink donuts at the Kash n Grab show that... among other things 🤣)
But he's nervous.
Is this a thing that only Mickey can initiate? The guy's like a frightened animal when it comes to anything that comes within an inch of romantic, or sweet, or... in his words: fruity.
And that's understandable. Mickey lives in a house of horrors that remind him on a daily basis why those things are forbidden. Why those things could get him killed without a second thought.
But something about tonight just seems different. Charged. It's like they've finally turned the page and made it to the part where it's okay to feel these thoughts that swirl around their brains and commandeer their hearts. Making them dizzy and drawn to one another like some moth to a bug zapper. (Waxing poetically doesn't seem appropriate in the house their occupying)
Mickey laughs at something that happened on screen and it shocks Ian back to reality. Glancing over at the broody boy beside him that has the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. It's unfair, really. That something so beautiful, something so hopeful, is always hidden beneath glares and fists and doubt.
Ian is full on staring now, movie forgotten as he etches this memory into his brain. A souvenir for when things aren't like this. When Mickey changes his mind and the cold shower of their sobering reality hits them both like a brick wall.
Still staring at the screen, Mickey takes a sip from his beer and smirks. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
Ian doesn't hesitate. "You." Always you.
The movie completely fades away as Mickey turns his full attention to Ian. Red hair, green eyes, freckles every-fucking-where, even that lone ranger on the tip of Ian's cock that mocks Mickey from his viewpoint when he's on his knees. Ian's fucking beautiful and that word alone is a death sentence.
When Mickey invited Ian to come over, he convinced himself it was purely for sex. Fast, hard, impersonal. Their usual style that met both their needs.
But, truthfully?
He wanted... no... he needed more. But how could he say that? He had no fucking clue. So, he made pizza rolls and they were watching a movie. Fully fucking clothed.
It was nice. It was terrifying. It was new.
Ian was staring back at him, both of them grinning like idiots, but, if a boy smiled at another boy in the Southside and no one was around to see it, did it really fucking matter?
Ian blushed. "What are you looking at?"
Softness weaved through Mickey's soul. "You." Then he playfully rolled his eyes. "Dumbass."
Ian leaned against the couch, arms resting across the back and whispered "Come here."
Mickey didn't need to be told twice. He crawled into Ian's lap, trying not to let it show how much those two words meant to him.
Because those two words meant more to Mickey than Ian could ever know. They made his heart hurt because no one in his life had ever wanted him. At least for something worthwhile, something... good. No one needed Mickey and no one ever remembered his existence. Except for Ian. Always fucking Ian.
He gripped the back of Mickey's neck and almost too slowly, brought their lips together. Mickey melted into it, trying to say the things he didn't know how. This is different. This is scary. This is everything i never knew I could have. Ian slowed the kiss down, there was no need to rush. No relatives two feet away or video cameras watching their every move.
For once, in their whirlwind relationship, they could just be Ian and Mickey.
Two boys still learning about love.
#i don't know what this is#but here you go#i have spiraling thoughts about unseen moments between these two#asks from lovely people#chey you can ask me stuff anytime#anyone can#gallavich
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( Modern verse ) Rui hcs; made specifically for @ghostly-punk, but like, other people can read too. Also my arm hurts.
He's friends with Senjuro Rengoku, and likes telling him scary stories just to freak him out a bit; Rui's a mysterious and quiet kid, but he slowly warmed up to Senjuro and they ended up making good friends. He likes his brother too, he's like a cool big brother figure. When Kyojuro's around, he complains to his big brother about why he can't be like Kyojuro.
Because he's the youngest in their family, he's doted on a lot by his parents and older siblings. His older brother likes to tease him ( in a playful manner ) and his older sister is protective over him and somewhat treats him like a baby.
He draws.. questionable stuff, the majority horror related, some of them from already existing media ( games, comics, movies, ect ) and some of them thought of from his head. His parents were a bit concerned and tried talking to him about it, but left him alone after realizing it made him happy. Still, they'd rather him be drawing mlp characters not shit from their nightmares jfc.
Rui goes to his momma for comfort when he's sad.. she gives him a huge sense of comfort and warmth, whether he's sad or not. It's hard for him to explain why he's feeling that way, but she's patient with him, and always holds him tightly until he's ready for her to let go.
He's interested in spiders, but can't stand other bugs. He's managed to have a ( secret ) pet spider in his room and named it Tsukiko.
P.E is hell for him, because he's neither strong or fast. He purposefully gets himself out in games like dodgeball and doesn't take it seriously.. and it's so obvious. Nobody wants Rui on their team, because he doesn't care about them winning, he just wants out.
Swings are his favorite and he glares at anyone who wants him to get off, he's a huge swing hogger and who can blame him? The swings are amazing.
He thinks Nezuko and Tanjiro are nice, Zenitsu is annoying, Inosuke is loud.. and annoying, and Genya is intimidating. No opinion on Kanao because he hasn't spoken to her before. Overall, Nezuko and Tanjiro are the only ones he likes.
#was also tempted to write about slayer! rui but decided to just make this abt modern verse rui#hc tag#excuse my spelling mistakes bbg#mmight write more later idk
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