#feels like a dig and making what I want to do with my life feel like a hobby or small and insignificant

[sirfrogsworth]

Dinner with Aunt Denise & Uncle Jeff A Tale of Science Fair Photography

Ever since my parents died my aunt and uncle have done their best to fill some of the hole left in my heart. It almost feels like they adopted me in a way. They check on me. They help me clean. They helped me sort through all of my parents' belongings. And from time to time they invite me over for dinner when I'm feeling up to it.

Last week I got a new invitation. I had been feeling pretty lonely as of late so I graciously accepted. Before I left I saw my camera sitting on the table and realized I had this fancy new lens which is especially suited for taking pictures of people.

I thought to myself...

"This lens has only taken pictures of bridges at sunset."

Which is cool and everything, but I don't really want my only photos to be of bridges at sunset. I like taking pictures of other things.

I didn't have any lighting equipment handy—just a single external flash. And without a solid plan for how I was going to use it, I quickly packed said flash and headed westward. As I saw the sun lowering in the sky above the highway my big photography brain had an idea...

"I should take pictures of *people* at sunset."

I needed a reflector of some kind to bounce my flash against. I thought poster board would probably suffice so I stopped at Walmart and headed to the arts and crafts area. I found these tri-fold poster board thingies that grade school kids use to display their science fair experiments.

I got 2 for $7!

What a deal!

After I arrived I asked if my aunt & uncle minded having their photo taken. My aunt said she was fine with it but warned me that no one had ever been able to take a decent photo of her.

I'm typically not one to be braggadocious, but I replied...

"Well, that's because you've never had your photo taken by ME."

I'm not sure I should have been so cocky considering my lighting equipment is typically used to display the life cycle of earthworms, baking soda volcanos, and... potato batteries—which was the delightful and totally real project I just found on Google.

Science Fair Entry from Billy, Age 10

After a delicious feast of bratwurst, salad, and non-electrified potatoes, I convinced my aunt and uncle to sit for a sunset photoshoot. They even helped me set up my science fair project.

Science Fair Entry from Froggie, Age 42

I decided to do a quick test indoors to make sure my plan would work. Jeff volunteered for my first experiment.

Without my contraption...

With my contraption...

I think my experiment was quite promising. But would my idea hold up outside during the sunset with constantly dimming conditions?

We moved everything to the backyard. The tri-fold poster board was a bit ornery regarding its uprightness and needed to be tamed. My Uncle Jeff used a large rock, some pillows, and a step ladder to keep the makeshift reflectors in place.

I started taking test photos without the flash to figure out the background exposure.

Those pesky power lines were going to need to be zapped later in Photoshop, but I was really digging the scenery.

I dialed everything in, started taking photos, and even on the little rear camera screen I felt like they were turning out well. With the sun setting the sky looked like it was on fire. But then the batteries died in my flash and I was starting to lose that fiery sky as darkness began to creep into view.

Unfortunately, all of the potatoes were in our bellies so my aunt scrambled to find regular batteries in the house.

This photoshoot had become a complete team effort with everyone doing their part to make it a success.

Surprisingly it was my Uncle Jeff was giving me some bona fide model poses. He just naturally has some sort of... resting model face. Very masculine and authentic. And my Aunt Denise is just pure sunshine manifested as a person. So I had no problems getting nice expressions from her.

So... would you like to see the pictures?

Will I get a blue ribbon on my science fair project?

Am I building up the suspense too much?

Okay, here we go...

I suppose the only validation I really need is from the person who has never had a decent photo taken of them.

Let's see the verdict.

All of those hours and hours of photography training helped me learn the problem solving skills I needed to pull off a photoshoot with seven dollars in supplies.

Take a small light source, bounce it off something larger, and you get a big light source.

And big light sources make people look snazzy in photographs.

Easy!

Are you kidding me?

I lost to the potato kid?

What kind of rigged nonsense...

[sanjisblackasswife]

Gojo Hearing “I Love You” for the First Time

I gen. have no clue if anywhere in the series anybody has said they loved gojo. Whether platonic or not. Its interesting and I was just thinking.

CW: Mentions of Gojo’s Past(some canon some not…so spoilers ig if you haven’t read the inventory arc), Established Relationship, Mentioned Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Some Angst(?), Soft Gojo, Reader speaks Spanish because I’m projecting 😋, Kisses

Blk!Fem Reader in Mind

“AND THAT’S WHY I DO NOT LIKE PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!..IT WAS VOMIT EVERYWHERE!”

“Can’t believe you managed to eat 6 boxes of cookies in one sitting.”

“Hey! Don’t judge it was a marathon of Digimon playing all day…good times. Not as good as the time—“

And there he goes again, your big over 6’6” boyfriend laying on his back on the couch having another yap fest after a long trip. It started off with a quiet evening of you both eating and watching a childhood movie to then actually sharing stories of your past.

You really couldn’t be more enamored by how excited Satoru gets when he speaks to you. His smile is wide from ear to ear and his dimples grow deeper. He’s also so expressive with his hand gestures you really don’t know where to look as you lay comfortable on his big broad chest.

Usually when he begins to speak about his life before you, you try to absorb and savor every moment. Since your friendship in high school Gojo wasn’t much of a talker (ironically) about his life, but as you both grown closer since his big mission with Geto to watch over Riko he managed to get a bit more comfortable with telling you more about himself.

It’s been 11 years since then and after some therapy sessions with you, Geto, and Gojo three of you managed to learn how to express yourselves in a healthier way with each other.

You watch now, almost 1 year into your official relationship with him and noticed he doesn’t talk much about his parents. Nor an adult in his life that was like a parent to him at the very least. Even when in High School you never met his family. You knew of his clan and that was all.

You always wondered where did he get his wild energy from? His dad? Where did he become so affectionate through touch? His mom? It was all a mystery you wanted to understand.

You’ve even asked Geto, his closest best friend what does he know about his mom and dad, but he always ends with “It’s better you wait until he tells you himself.”

You didn’t question it more, you respected the decision so thats exactly why you’re here. Watching and listening attentively to what your boyfriend has to say. It makes you happy seeing how much he has grown more comfortable towards you towards the years.

“And when I was 8 I remember my folks always gave me free range to use my technique whenever to practice, but boy they regretted after an hour because I—-baby.”

Without noticing your eyes blinked back at him as if you began to come back to reality again, Gojo seen the relaxed look you given him as he spoke, how your eyes were on his, but he just knew you—

“‘ not even listeninggguhhhh.”

Putting your thumbs on his pouty bottom lip, they’re so soft you smile at him, it wasn’t really something you’d expect to say to him, but his pretty big smile, his deepened dimples, everything about him caught you in a moment of venerability you just decided to softly speak at him;

“I love you.”

…just like that it was a pause.

It just slipped off the tongue. You meant it, but finally saying it out loud was a bit of a shock to not just you, but more Satoru. He had an unreadable look on his face, almost as if he didn’t catch what you said, but he definitely did. He couldn’t miss the way his body tensed up hearing those three words.

“What?”

Gojo didn’t say anything, almost as if it was a staring contest you rise from his chest to straddle him, “Are you okay?”

You jumped feeling the pads of his thumb dig into the fattiness of your hips, almost as if he were trying to massage you….very painfully. He got up though, placing you down on the couch and walking to the nearest bathroom without saying a word or looking at you. You could’ve sworn he wiped his face momentarily.

“Go—?”

He didn’t mean to, it was almost a reflex. Your words though, kept replaying in his head . He felt a bit silly being so dramatic , ironically but he couldn’t properly process what you said.

“Satoru?” You knock on the door breaking him away from his thoughts, “You okay, papa? I—oh.”

He opened the door, putting back on his eye mask and giving you one of the fakest smiles you ever seen him do.

“What are you doing, you okay?”

“yeah yeah I’m fineeeee. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“W-wait!” You playfully scoff at his eagerness as he pulls you to the front door, “I’m sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable….I know it was sudden and random, but I meant it.”

Gojo turns and exhales, clearing his throat he begins to scratch the back of his head, you can tell he is scrambling for words so you continue; “I do love you Satoru. A lot. I think I always have since we were younger, but I don’t know…today made me realize I should verbalize it.”

He wants to speak, but for one of the first times you left him wanting to just listen to you. Honestly you took advantage of it because who knows when you’ll be able to get him this quiet.

“I love your smile, I love your laugh, I love the way you explain things, I love the way you are, I love the way you care, I love how you can get on my nerves.” You ends the last part with a giggle making him finally chuckle with you, and he brings you closer to his chest. “I love you, Satoru. You are an amazing person and I am very blessed to have you as not only a friend but a partner.”

It was all too much, he felt overwhelmed he had to lift his mask to wipe the tears welling on the side of his eyes, he chuckles again, the free hand on your waist tightening, “Well damn if I didn’t know better I’d think you have a crush on me.”

You laugh, “Maybeeee…..Now. “ You smooch his cheek before grabbing your phone, “Let’s go get some food—-“

You tried walking past him towards the door but he grabs you from behind to hug you close, you can hear his shallow breaths in your ear. You’re used to his tight squeezes from behind but this one was firm. Almost as if he let you go you’ll fly away.

“Say it again.”

You smirk, his voice quivering but trying to be masked by a fake pouting tone, “I love you, Satoru.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, but in Spanish.”

“Oh brother.”

“C’mon you sound hot when speaking Spanish.”

“Te amaré para siempre, Satoru…”

If words could explain how he felt right now with you, the closeted would be a weight being lifted off his shoulders. For a moment he no longer was Gojo the strongest sorcerer, he was Satoru.

Just Satoru.

Something he wanted to be for a long time, and now you are helping him take the first step into that.

You inhale his scent; mint, expensive cologne and his natural musky smell you love so much and rub his head as he is still buried in your neck. You turn to face him and grab his cheeks, almost hesitantly to cup them because you weren’t sure if he’d left you see him cry. Though you felt your shoulder dampen.

However he let you, his big blue eyes surrounded by a tint of pink, he tried laughing it off and he actually broke eyes contact with you, “I …um…heh..fuck—“

You knew what he was trying to say but you don’t force him, instead you place your lips on his, you felt him exhale, his body relaxing in your touch, “I know, Satoru. I know.”

Gojo couldn’t properly register why he was so overwhelmed with whatever he is feeling right now but he wouldn’t trade this feeling in the world. He honestly wanted to replay the moment you said you loved him on repeat all day.

Later that day you both go out and have your own last minute date for the evening, he wanted so badly to tell you he loves you back by trying to incorporate more of the word “love “ in his vocabulary, by saying things like “I know you LOVE this.” Or “Wouldnt you LOVE for me to take you here.” but it was hard and he sounded silly.

Satoru wanted so badly to tell you he doesn’t just love you, but he has fallen IN love with you.

Gojo finally found just one more person that gave him something he didn’t realize he needed;

To feel human.

[murdrdocs]

i know challengers inspo is dwindling, but i can’t get the idea out of my head of art and patrick having a stilted friendship after tashi’s accident and,,,, patrick knows art used to have a crush on you. hell, for all he knows, maybe he still does. so patrick starts cozying up to you— he lifts you up and spins you whenever the two of you see each other. he whispers things in your ear that either make you giggle or blush (always being aware of art’s glare as it digs into his back). he starts bring more than just friendly with you. art clearly hates it. but why is patrick starting to enjoy it more than he should?

art doesn’t have it in himself to stop being friends with you for something as petty as this. just because he’s no longer friends with patrick, and you and patrick are … you and patrick, that doesn’t mean you and art can’t be friends too. yeah, you and art might not be you and art, but art didn’t want that, not anymore. at least, that’s what he’s trying to convince himself.

but seeing the way you are with patrick, art starts to become a little curious. he wonders if it’s sincere, if the look patrick sends over your shoulder towards art is purely a coincidence, or a perfectly timed gesture. and then art can’t help but start to picture himself in your life instead of patrick. art with his arm around your waist during homecoming. art with his hand in your back pocket in the dining hall. art pornographically kissing you and groping your ass in the middle of the quad.

art tries to push his feelings down with overcompensation, but he finds himself wondering why patrick is on campus so often anyway while he’s balls deep in some other girl. his thoughts always come back to you and patrick, no matter what.

and patrick—he knows what he’s doing. at first, he’s doing it for art. he's acting on a plan that has been orchestrated behind his green eyes, written out along his broad smirk. it’s planned, but patrick does like you. he realizes that eventually, the first sign showing itself when he's deep within you, your legs thrown over his shoulders as you let him bend you in half.

you’re patrick's connection, his in without having to be in the group. you tell him about art and tashi as you cuddle (it's not cuddling as much as it's just patrick laying with his head between your legs) in your dorm room, and like this, patrick still feels like he’s with them. you’re the remnants of art and tashi. you carry art and tashi with you, specifically art, which patrick realizes whenever he starts to see art's jealousy.

the way art's eyes linger on patrick’s hand on your hip. that passive aggressive way art chews his gum while patrick kisses your cheek goodbye.

patrick likes to see the way art's eyes narrow when you show up with a new hickey, but patrick also likes giving you those hickies. he likes the way you squirm beneath him. the way you moan and beg for him to please you. it’s a nice mix for him, a win-win situation where he gets his dick wet while inciting rage inside of the person he knows best, and he wants the most.

[holylulusworld]

Gun for hire (2)

Summary: You’re his next target. Nothing else. Right?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: hiring a killer, Lloyd being Lloyd, being followed, sunshine reader, awestruck Lloyd, also annoyed Lloyd, character’s death, blood, safe-napping?

A/N: Another chapter this week.

Gun for hire (1)

Gun for hire masterlist

Lloyd watches you walk toward the other side of the counter to sit down and dig into your food. You chew slowly and close your eyes to savor the taste of the last food you’ll ever eat.

He pokes the pasta with his fork, brows knitted together as he tries to find out why he hasn’t killed you yet.

“How did you…” you begin but stop to eat another spoonful of pasta. “How did you become a hired killer?” You look at Lloyd. “I won’t tell anyone. After I’m done eating, you’ll kill me so…please tell me anything. This is the last conversation I’ll ever have.”

Lloyd drops the fork to look at the gun in his other hand. “I tried with the CIA, but that wasn’t my style. Before they do something you must write an essay or shit.”

You giggle when he makes a face. “So…you’re with the CIA?”

He sighs. “I just told you that I tried, and it wasn’t for me. I have my own business now, sunshine. No boss ordering me around. I’m the boss, and order people around.”

“Hmm…sounds interesting,” you nod thoughtfully before shoveling more food into your mouth. You chew slowly to think about your life, and what you want to achieve before you die. “Do you like it? Killing people for money?”

Lloyd looks at you, furrowing his brows. He never thought much about his profession. Lloyd loves money, and to be in charge. But does he like killing people?

He thinks about your question before a smirk appears on his face. “I like it very much, sunshine.” Lloyd steps closer to you to stand right next to you. “I love it when they beg, and whimper. Do you know how good it feels to end some douchebag's life?”

“Interesting,” you nod slowly. “Will you enjoy killing me too?” You look him in the eyes, stubbornly holding his gaze. “And if so, why? I never harmed you or tried to make your life harder. It was my boyfriend deciding to hire you.”

“Fuck’s sake, you’re annoying and too friendly. Why do you still smile at me while I stand right next to you, my gun unlocked?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Why not? You only try to do your job. Even if I could never harm anyone, I guess someone must do your job too.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he snarls. “I’m about to kill you, woman! Did you realize that this is not a joke? Is your head empty or something?”

“I got that you are here to end my life,” you slip off the stool to place your hand on his chest, soothingly running it up and down. “The question is, are you ready to kill me? You look a little unsure.”

“What?” He hiccups. “I’m never unsure…what?”

“Is this your first time?” You look at him and smile softly. “Did you never kill an innocent woman before, Lloyd? Do you want me to make things easier for you?”

His chest heaves up and down, and he feels his patience wear thin. You are making him crazy, and Lloyd doesn’t know how to handle the situation.

Can he kill you? If he kills you, he will break one of his rules. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t pay him. Lloyd doesn’t have an assignment and no reason to kill you.

Maybe he can end you – if only to stop you from making him doubt his intentions when it comes to you. Now that you have seen his face, he has got another problem.

“My first time?” He grins now. “Cupcake, I killed people when you were still in your nappies. What I do cannot be taught.”

You giggle. For a guy with a gun, Lloyd is funny. “You’re not that old. And…didn’t the CIA train you?” You knit your brows together, thinking hard. “I think I saw a movie…or was it a show…”

“Sunshine, we are not in a movie,” he growls and pats his thigh with his gun. “What is going on in your head? Why are you not like…screaming and crying.”

“Do you want me to cry for you,” you ask. “Would this make you feel better, Lloyd?” You smile sweetly and pat his chest. “How can I make you calm?”

“What are you doing?” He murmurs while you keep on touching him. People usually shy away when you step into their private space. Mainly when you are a stranger.

If you want to survive this day, you must outsmart Lloyd. He’s not used to people being kind to him, especially when he tries to kill someone. You’re nice, and kind – not stupid. You don’t want to die and will try anything to stay alive.

“I don’t know,” you whisper as you stand on tiptoes. You’re about to distract Lloyd with a kiss when you hear the front door burst open, and bullets hit the wall outside the kitchen.

You shriek and end up on the ground, Lloyd on top of you. “Stay down, and hide behind the counter,” he grunts in your ear. “Go…”

Lloyd rolls off you to scramble to his feet. You admire him for his catlike agility. He slides over the floor to hide behind the wall next to the door while you struggle to get on your knees to crawl behind the counter.

You’re shaking as gunshots hit the kitchen door.

Pressing one hand over your mouth you try not to make a noise.

“Come out, come out!” A man yells. “If you come out, I won’t hurt you, Y/N.” Shit, he came for you, not Lloyd. “I know you are in there. Your lovely boyfriend sent me to keep you safe.”

“Not a word,” Lloyd whispers, as if you are stupid enough to believe the other man came to your rescue. “Shush, cupcake and you will survive the day.”

“Come out, little bird!” The man kicks the door open. It hits the wall with a loud thud, making you flinch. “I know you are here…”

You hear footsteps, and then a loud thud. The man screams in pain and agony. “What the fuck!” You poke your head around the counter to watch him fall to his knees. Blood is spurting from a wound on his side. He desperately tries to stop the blood from leaving his body, but it’s no use.

“No, sweet cheeks,” Lloyd taunts. “Lloyd fucking Hansen.” He kicks the man, laughing as you scream for the first time. “Oh, so you can scream.”

“Y-ou shot him,” you blink at Lloyd. “Why? He wanted to make your job easier.”

“My job,” Lloyd empathizes. “It was my job to kill you. That piece of shit of a boyfriend hired a loser like that to replace me.” He kicks the man again. “You cannot kill my prey!”

“Please stop!” you sniffle. “You don’t have to be cruel.”

“That piece of shit wanted to kill you and you want me to go easy on him?” Lloyd kicks the whining man again. It’s only a matter of time before he bleeds out. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What will it be, pumpkin?”

“Easy—” the man wheezes. He clutches his side while staring at you. “He said it’s easy money. Go in. Make it look like an accident and go out. I didn’t know he hired you too…”

“Well, you just tried to steal my kill so…” Lloyd aims his gun at the man’s head. “You will tell me everything about your client and where I can find him. Make my job easier and I’ll let you go.”

“At his new girl’s home,” the man splutters. “He wanted us to meet up at the park close to her home at midnight after the job here is done.”

“Good boy,” you cover your mouth when Lloyd shoots the man in the head. He doesn't see his end coming and falls to the ground, a stunned expression on his face.

You stare at Lloyd and his gun, scrambling away because you know, he must kill you now too. Your heart races and you try to swallow the bad taste in your mouth.

“FUCK!” Lloyd stomps his foot. “Fuuuck!” He growls in your direction while you try to crawl around the counter. 

Lloyd takes a few deep breaths. He tries to calm down and think about his next steps. While you press your back to the counter and close your eyes to count to ten, Lloyd secures his gun.

“Sunshine, get up,” he snaps his fingers. “Hurry, we don’t have all day.” You gasp when he suddenly stands in front of you. At least he tugs his gun away to hold out his hand for you.  “We need to pack a few things. I don’t know how many incompetent idiots your boyfriend hired.”

You blink.

“Chop, chop sunshine. I need to get you out of here. I won’t let anyone steal my kill,” he grabs you by your arms and brings you to your feet. “Light package, sweet cheeks.”

He guides you out of the kitchen and upstairs, telling you to pack a few things. 

Lloyd gives you twenty minutes before he drags you out of your house, two suitcases and one duffle bag in his arms. He mutters under his breath on his way toward his car. A pretentious black SUV. 

“Get inside, shut your mouth, and don’t make me shoot you. I need to make a few calls on our way home.”

He throws your luggage into the trunk, still muttering as you slip inside the passenger seat. 

You dare not breathe when he opens the door and claims the driver’s seat.

“We will talk about a few rules on our way…”

Tags in reblog.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

untitled — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of being drunk, alcohol, suggestive content

“you have a good evening?” he fails to stifle a grin and holds her close as she tries to straddle him. it’s awkward—her heels digging into his knee, her dress riding up her thigh. hair stuck to her lip gloss.

“it was fantastic!” she declares, nodding with such excitement that it sets her earrings swinging wildly. “you should have been there, it would have been funner–fuck, more fun. i dunno, is funner a word?”

his grin turns wider, she puts her head on his shoulder and lets him cradle her close. “it is if you want it to be. and who’d take care of you if i got drunk with you, hmm?”

“oh, i’m fine!” airily, she waves her hand away. he narrowly avoids the smack. “just…” she lowers her voice, a hushed whisper, a secret about to be divulged, “how do i take off my heels? the buckles are veryyyyyyy complicated. it’s stupid.”

he can’t control the snort that leaves him then. she looks so adorable—trying so hard to keep her eyes open while so obviously being sleepy. trying so hard to convince him she’s not drunk, when she is, indeed, bladdered. 

when he gets on his knees by her feet, she attempts a protest.

“wh—”

“let’s get your heels off you, okay?” 

“mmm, and after that?” he feels her hands through his hair, nails against his scalp and the nape of his neck in what is meant to be boldly flirtatious. “what comes off after that.”

if she weren’t so drunk, it would have worked on him. 

his hair fall in his eyes when he looks up at her. he can almost predict what he’s going to see—half-lidded sleepy eyes and messy hair and glitter all over her face. 

“your make-up,” he deadpans, rubs his thumb over her knee. “then your clothes, and then the blankets. so i can put you to bed.”

she pouts, sticks her tongue out at him and blows a raspberry. “old man! look at you, you’re ready for bed at…uh…”

“midnight? yeah, real old man of me,” he grins. 

he lets her try again, trace a finger through his hair and down to his temple and then his jaw. when he closes his eyes and smiles, she traces that too—her thumb over his lips, making his smile grow wider.

“pretty as you are,” he places a small kiss on the palm of her hand, “i need to take you to bed.” and before she can make another little comment, he quickly interrupts, “so you can sleep, you pervert.”

“boooo, boringgggg!” she stands up all of a sudden, his heart picks up when she stumbles, trips over her discarded heels and lands, once again, right into his arms. something about the whole thing is apparently hilarious, it sets her giggling once more. 

“d’you wanna know a secret?” she whispers once she's managed to stop laughing, “c’mere, c’mere!”

just to entertain her, he sits on the settee, then carefully sits her down on his lap. “go on then.”

“no, clooooser,” she pokes him in the chest. it barely has any effect, “it’s very very secret!”

he grabs her finger, the one that’s just poked him, and brings it to his mouth to kiss the knuckle. then he leans closer until their noses are almost touching.

“go on, tell me your secret.”

“so, it’s…it’s…” he sees her eyes go from sleepy to twinkly in a matter of seconds, and then she leans, pressing a kiss square on his lips, giggling away at his surprised face. “gotcha!”

his jaw drops, cheeks flaming from being caught so off guard. it’s not often he gets shy around her—not anymore—but something about the way she looks at him, like he hung the moon just for her, leaves him speechless.

he holds her by the waist so she won’t squirm away from him, still laughing—her lipstick is fully gone now, only smudges of it remain on the corners of her lips, her eyeliner is half smudged and the glitter on her eyelids is all around her eyes. and she is, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s seen in his entire life. 

“you’re staring,” she whispers, biting her lip shyly and he can’t resist kissing her again—a small kiss, a real kiss. 

“you’re gorgeous.” 

“are we going to bed then?” she throws him a clumsy wink.

“we are…” he nods, “so you can go to bed—”

“booooo, boring old man!” she pokes him in the chest again, right over his heart. the adorable crease between her brows is back, the one she thinks makes her look serious and angry.

once again he grabs the finger, kisses the knuckle. “you’ll love me in the morning, trust me.”

“i’ll love you always,” she says as a matter of fact, nodding sagely. 

if he could melt right there, he would. instead, he hugs her tight and holds her close, her head on his chest. then he kisses her head, lingering for as long as he can, and carries her to bed.

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 3 **

Hello!

Chapter 3 is where things get rough, but those little stars next to the chapter title also mean things get spicy so enjoy!

Warnings for the whole series here

Fic summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC Aisling

Series Master LIst

It was late when he woke up, half the day seemed to have passed and another siren startled him awake. He was face down on the couch, his neck ached from the weird position and he groaned as he rolled over and sat up. The water was running in the bathroom so Eva must be up, he heard her flush the toilet and he got up to sort breakfast. 

He tapped gently on the bathroom door, “How do you feel about some food?” he asked and when he got no reply he knocked a little bit louder. The shower was running and he pushed the door open, knocking again. 

“Hey, it’s me, how do you feel about breakfast?” 

His eyes widened as he saw the toilet bowl, there was blood in it, and his insides twisted.

“Eva!” 

She’d already turned off the water and her hand came out, grabbing her towel off the hook, her movements slow, and he couldn’t understand her lack of panic as he felt it rush through his body, making his heart sprint. 

“Eva! What happened?” Frankie tugged at the shower curtain and she didn't meet his eyes, instead she looked down at the thin rivulet of blood running down the inside of her thigh. 

“Cariño, please, I need to get you to the ER,” he said, holding out his hand to her but she just shook her head. 

“It’s normal, Frankie,” she said “They told me this would happen.” 

“What? Who told you?” Frankie felt himself floundering, he didn’t understand, she’s losing the baby but she doesn’t seem bothered.

She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the shower. 

“I had an abortion, Frankie.” 

He felt the blood drain from his face, and there was a sudden sharp sting where his nails were digging into his palms. 

“An abortion?” he said, his voice strangled as Eva gave a weak nod and sighed.  

“I told you, I can’t do this Frankie, I don’t want to do this.” 

“Without even talking to me?” he said, “We never even talked about it properly!” 

His voice bounced around the tiled bathroom and Eva pulled the towel tighter around her and shoved past him. 

“There was nothing to talk about, I didn’t want it, it’s my choice.” 

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and she disappeared into the bedroom. He took a few deep breaths before he followed her. 

“I know that, Eva, but…fuck…I thought we had more time to talk about it, this is our baby, I want to do this with you. And I would’ve come with you, helped you!” 

“Was.” 

“What?” 

“Was, you said ‘is’,” she looked up at Frankie where he was standing in the doorway. “I had the abortion, it’s done.” 

The buzzing was back in his head, it felt like a swarm of bees had made a nest just behind his forehead. He pressed the palm of his hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, the life he’d imagined was gone and he felt like a door had closed, it felt a bit like grief, pain. But a part of him was feeling something else, relief maybe? Or just anger at Eva for not letting him in, not needing him to be there when… His breath hitched, the thought catching and his heart clenched with pain. 

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Eva said, standing by the bedroom door, watching him rub his face. “I know you thought we could make it work, but I’d already made my mind up.” 

“So why did you make me come all the way to New York?” Anger suddenly flared up inside him, “Why make me sit on that fucking bus for two days, why even fucking tell me?” He was yelling, his fist thumping against the wall, “Why the fuck did you tell me and make me come back and let me think we would- “ 

“What, Frankie?” Eva yelled back at him, cutting him off, “What? We would make a happy little family in this shitty one bedroom flat in fucking Greenpoint? I hadn’t fucking made my mind up and I needed you here, I needed to talk to you! I missed you and-” 

“We never talked!” Frankie spat out, “You never even-” He cut himself off, his body itched, the buzzing so loud he couldn’t even hear himself think, he needed to leave, needed to breathe. “Fuck it,” he snarled, “I need air, I can’t be here anymore.” 

He shoved past her, into the bedroom and Eva backed away, letting him tug his jeans on without a word. He didn’t say anything else either, grabbed his jacket and wallet, slamming the front door behind him. 

Before he knew it, he was out on the street, turning down the block and walking away. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, anger thrummed through his body. He doesn't even know if he’s relieved or not, he’s just angry. Angry at Eva for not letting him be a part of the decision, angry that she didn’t even need him there, didn’t let him do the right thing and take her to the clinic. Even if they’d disagreed on the next step, he’d still be there for her, if she wanted to have an abortion, he’d help her anyway he could. But he wasn’t even allowed to be a part of that. 

He mumbled under his breath as he stalked down the street, people giving him a wide berth when they saw his thunderous face, but he didn't even notice. His feet carried him around Greenpoint, down to the river where he found himself standing by the edge and staring out across the water towards Manhattan. With a deep sigh he sat down on a bench by and gazed out at the glittering skyline without really seeing it, he was just looking west.

His head was trying to sort through the events of the past few days, his mind spinning all the conversations on a loop as the hours passed. His stomach growled but he felt too sick to eat, too angry. All the things that had happened that made him leave Montana and come back to Brooklyn;  Eva’s phone call and revelation, two days on a bus, his own thoughts about becoming a father, the fear and then the determination to not fuck this up. He tried to sort through his emotions the way NA had taught him, lined them all up in his head, getting to the root of why he’s feeling what he’s feeling. 

I wanted to be a dad, he told himself, I had a plan, move closer to town, make sure Eva was happy too. I was thinking I could build a corral and get a couple of horses for us, and then our kid could grow up with horses, maybe we’d get a dog too. I could take them out on the trail, go swimming in that creek up by Weed’s Bluff. Bring stuff to cook lunch, maybe we’d catch some fish...I could show our kid how to gut the fish, we’d cook it together…Yeah…I’d like that. 

Honestly, Morales. Don’t fucking lie to yourself now. Is that really what you want? Or is it just what you think you’re supposed to want? 

No, I want that, I really want that. A normal family life, my head quiet, people I love around me.

And you wanted to do all that with Eva? 

Yeah, of course! Sure. Probably. I guess? 

Fucking liar. She didn’t even tell you she was getting the abortion. That’s fucked up. She told you she was pregnant, got you here so that you could discuss things, and then she just had the abortion without even letting you come with her. She’s not fucking worth it, Morales. 

I still love her. 

Liar. 

Ok, fine, I don’t know if I still love her. I did love her. Things were good back in Montana for a while. If I could get her to move back there, then maybe... 

She doesn’t want to go back to Montana. And she betrayed you. 

She cut me out of the decision, and not just the decision, she didn’t even let me help her through it. 

Fuck!

He felt the anger rise again as he came back to that, he’d accept her decision to not go through with it, he knows that’s her choice. But the baby would’ve been his too, and now he just felt empty, no closure. He wasn’t even allowed to be there when the decision was made and the pills taken. 

He snarled through his teeth, kicked a rock, the sharp pain snapping him out of his inaction. 

Fuck her! If that’s how little I mean to her, then fuck her! 

Frankie spun around and turned his back on the Manhattan skyline. It had gotten late, a shiver ran through his body as he realized he’d been sitting still on the bench for hours. With a final angry kick at an offending rock, he turned back towards the apartment. He’d just pack up his shit, go down to Port Authority and find the next bus heading west. 

Fuck this city! 

Aisling looked up as someone knocked on the front door of the bar. The bar had just closed for the night and the doors had been locked. When she spotted Frankie through the glass she scowled and pursed her lips. 

“The fucking nerve of this guy…” she hissed under her breath and ignored him, going back to cleaning the bar, but he knocked again, the sound of his knuckles on the old wood loud in the empty room. 

“I’m sorry,” he called through the window, “I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have left.” 

She looked up at him again, those soft brown eyes locking onto her with a pained expression. He looked pathetic, his hair a mess, no cap, begging at her door, and she told him as much. 

“You look pathetic, Morales,” she called back at him, but she put down the rag and stepped out past the bar. 

“I know,” came his reply, “I’m a pathetic fucked up loser.” 

That made her give a small smirk, the corner of her lip pulling up as she approached the door. 

“As a rule, I don’t forgive guys who kiss me and then run away,” she said, stopping just in front of the door with her arms crossed as if she had no intention of opening it. But Frankie saw the glimmer in her eyes, and he couldn’t hide the smile that crept up his own face. 

“You kissed me first,” he reminded her, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he tilted his head and looked at her, his smile widening. 

“And then you kissed me back and ran off,” Aisling scolded him, but there was no heat there. Instead she slid back the dead bolt and unlocked the door. “You know, we’re already closed.” 

“I just wanted to talk to you, I left it kinda bad last time,” Frankie said, “I apologize, I got in my head about shit and made a mistake.” 

She let him follow her back to the bar and he sat down on the same stool as the last time as she went back to cleaning the bar. 

“Thanks for acknowledging that,” she replied, “I’m not used to guys coming on that strong and then rejecting me.” 

“Can I start over?” he asked, holding out his hand to her, “Hi, I’m Frankie, deadbeat cowboy who just drifted in from Montana without a job and connections.” 

She gave him a crooked smile, the corner of her mouth pulling up as she took his proffered hand. 

“Hi Frankie, I’m Aisling, Brooklyn hustler who takes advantage of cute cowboys who don’t know better.” 

He chuckled at that, his warm hand enveloping hers as he shook it, and she was reminded of how it had felt cupping her cheek, rough calluses, thick fingers, gentle in her hair. 

“Cute, huh?” he smirked, the tips of his ears turning pink as she smiled back at him. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she replied and he chuckled again, the soft curls bouncing around his ears now that they weren’t confined by the cap. 

“I won’t, but I was hoping you’d still wanna take me for that bodega sandwich?” 

Aisling gave him a long once over, he wasn’t cocky, just asking with an honest look in those deep brown eyes that seemed to pull her in. He was obviously hoping to continue what they’d started yesterday, and, despite cursing him out most of last night, she found she wasn’t opposed to it. The kiss had replayed in her head since she woke up and here the owner of those soft lips was standing in front of her again, offering a second chance at feeling them. 

Fuck any standards. 

“Sure, the offer still stands. I just need to restock the bar and then I’m done,” she replied. 

“Let me help then, you’ll get done faster and I’m starving,” he said, standing up from the stool as she nodded. 

Frankie knew he was in the wrong, he shouldn’t start something here. It wasn’t fair on Aisling, he was leading her into a situation a lot more complicated than two people just being attracted to each other. There was a small ball of guilt in the pit of his stomach, but the feeling of being betrayed, rejected, still had his head in a death grip. His feet had led him here almost unconsciously after he’d decided to go back to the apartment and pack up. Or, he told himself it was unconscious, in reality he knew he’d made the decision to turn down this street instead of the next one. Just like he had yesterday. He’d come here, looking for Aisling’s warm smile, her soft touch, such a contrast to what life with Eva was now. 

Just a sandwich, he told himself, just a sandwich, hang out with her, have a break from this whole fucking mess with Eva, and then I’ll get my shit and head to Port Authority. Maybe I can get her number, she can come visit once I’m done with Eva. Show her the ranch, the cabin. Yeah, just a sandwich. 

“Just put away those glasses, they go up there,” Aisling said and pointed at a shelf over his head as he was pulled out of his thoughts. 

He got to work and Aisling continued loading beers into the fridge, glancing over at him as he stretched to place the glasses. He’d shrugged out of his tan suede jacket and the faded blue t-shirt underneath hugged his shoulders as he moved. When she crouched down to the fridge under the bar counter, she got a glimpse of his soft belly, a tantalizing trail of dark hair, and she was momentarily stunned. There was something about how it disappeared down into his jeans, his solid looking thighs covered in well worn denim flanking the not very discreet bulge below his belly. 

With a bit of an effort, she pulled her gaze away from him, and stacked the last couple of beers. 

“All done, let’s get out of here,” she said, standing up and brushing off the knees of her own well worn jeans. 

He gave her a quick smile and pulled his jacket back on, following her out through the front door and watched her lock up. 

“So is New York treating you any better?” she asked, as they began walking towards the bodega, “You weren’t too happy with her last time.” 

Frankie’s lips twisted into a grimace, “Still kicking my ass, but at least the bartenders are friendly.” 

Aisling smiled and hooked her arm around his, giving it a squeeze, “Don’t worry, she’ll grow on you once you’ve had this sandwich.” 

He was just as solid under her grip as she remembered, and when he accepted her arm and pulled her a little bit closer, she decided she’d forgiven him for running off last time. 

Her comment made Frankie smile properly as he relished the feel of her warm hand on his arm. Even out on the dirty street, combating with a couple of trash bags and the diesel fumes from a truck, he could smell the scent of her hair, and he held back the impulse to bury his nose in the long curls by her neck and inhale. Instead he squeezed her arm in return and watched as her eyes smiled up at him. He could kiss her again, right now, and see if it made his head go as quiet as last time, just let her presence take over his brain and calm it. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got any words out, she tugged his arm towards the entrance of a bodega. 

“This is the place, get your order in, cowboy,” she said as she pushed open the door and let go of his arm, and he followed her into the fluorescent light of the small shop, “What’s your go to?” 

Frankie rubbed a large hand absentmindedly over his jaw as he looked up at the scribbled menu, “Philly cheese steak,” he decided, “can’t go wrong with that. What’s yours?” He looked over at Aisling who was leaning on the counter smiling at him while the elderly man behind it started slicing a bagel. 

“Turkey, lettuce, tomato, cheddar on an everything bagel,” she replied, “Joseph here knows how I like ‘em.” 

“She hasn’t changed her order since she was twelve,” Joseph chuckled, “and I still can’t convince her to add mustard to it.” 

“Disgusting,” Aisling huffed and wrinkled her nose. She waved a hand at Frankie, introducing him to Joseph. “This is Frankie, he moved here a couple of days ago from Montana, we need to convince him that New York isn’t as bad as he thinks it is.” 

“Greatest city in the world!” Joseph exclaimed with a bark, wrapping Aislings bagel, “no city like it and she’ll chew you up and spit you out if you show any fear.” 

“Isn’t that how you treat horses? No fear?” Aisling grinned at Frankie as Joseph started work on his order. She unwrapped her bagel, taking a big bite as Frankie replied. 

“Yeah, something like that, except they’ll kick you, not eat you,” he chuckled, “But if you could teach me how to handle New York like a horse, I’d be grateful, so far she’s been doing her best to kick my ass.” 

“With a few exceptions,” Aisling said, her smile suddenly softer and she threw a glance over her shoulder at Joseph. He was busy slicing the ribeye and she took a quick step towards Frankie, pressing a quick kiss to the bare patch in his scruffy beard before she winked at him. She felt his hand reach for her waist, but with a few quick steps she disappeared down towards the drink section at the back of the shop. From behind her she heard Joseph chuckle, and when she looked back, Frankie had his eyes on her, rooted to the spot while the elderly man piled the Philly Cheese steak ingredients high on the hoagie. 

“I guess you’re trying to tame at least one mare in New York,” Joseph said, giving him a grin, and Frankie felt his cheeks burn as the man wrapped the sandwich with deft hands and handed it over. 

“Soda, water or beer?” Aisling called from the back of the shop and Frankie looked back at her. She was holding up one of each in her hand, waving them at him and he swallowed, finding his voice again. 

“Whatever you’re having,” he replied and she gave him a quick nod, ditching the soda and water and picking up a second bottle of beer. 

“Ring us up, Joseph, and put it on my tab,” she called to the owner who nodded and made a note on a pad next to the till. 

“You sure?” Frankie asked as she nudged him towards the exit with the beer bottles and her bagel. 

“Pay me back sometime,” she said as he grabbed the door and held it open for her, “I’m sure I’ll need something fixed, some helicopter or whatever. Bye, Joseph!” She called to the man behind the counter who gave her a wave and Frankie another grin. 

“You have a lot of helicopters that need fixing then?” Frankie asked as they stepped back out onto the street and Aisling felt her heart expand as he reached over and grabbed the bottles from her hand, a cheeky smirk on his face, the dimple deep in his cheek. He was so close as he leaned down to grab the bottles, she could smell his cologne, or maybe it was his body wash, and the warm scent sent a spark through her system as she met his dark brown eyes.

“Loads, my apartment’s full of them, don’t know where to put them all,” she replied, “It’s actually really lucky you came along because I’ve been desperately needing someone to fix them.” 

“Maybe you should take me there then, so that I can take a look at them,” Frankie said, still standing a little bit closer than needed as he held her gaze. As he watched, her tongue came out and slipped over her bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth. It was all he could do to not drop both the bottles and the sandwich on to the sidewalk and grab her to tease that pink lip from between her teeth. 

“Maybe,” she said, her voice low as he felt her breath over his cheek, he hadn’t realized he was still bending down to her level, but he couldn’t make himself pull back. “But just so we’re on the same page, I have no helicopters, it’s all just a clever ruse to get you back to my place and have sex.” 

Frankie felt the blood in his head rush south in an instance, his cock filling rapidly, and he inhaled sharply, fighting to keep his cool.

“If you really had helicopters that needed fixing, I’d be disappointed,” he smiled, leaning closer so that his mouth was right next to her ear, “And it’s not helicopters I’ve been thinking about in the shower lately.” As his mouth touched the soft skin under her ear, her breath hitched and he smiled into her neck, letting his lips brush across the warm surface, before he stood back up. Aisling was smiling at him, her green eyes dark and eager, and she hooked her arm through his again, making him straighten up and follow her down the street. 

She lived just on the next block, down an alley and through a door into a small lobby, the dingy building framed by two recent developments close to the river. Frankie let himself be led by her, leading him away from all thoughts of Eva, of what she’d ended, the anger and guilt in the pit of his stomach, the noise in his head. He left it all like the trash bags on the sidewalk and let his heart, or maybe his cock, make any decisions. 

Conversation seemed to have ended now that they were both on the same page and eager to begin. Aisling felt his solid bicep curl and move under her fingers as he adjusted his grip on the bottles, and she'd never thought she’d be so turned on by a guy’s bicep. But rubbing her hand over his muscle, caressing him, she felt heat beginning to build inside as she led him towards her building. 

Frankie wasn’t doing much better on his end. Walking next to her, he remembered how soft and pliant she’d been under him when they’d kissed, and he wondered if he’d be able to pull the same low moans from her tonight. He glanced down at her lips, his cock twitching in his jeans, as images flooded his brain.  

The front door keys jangled as she pulled them from her pocket and unlocked the door, Frankie waiting behind her. The hallway was dimly lit and gloomy, but empty, and on impulse he leaned in and pushed her hair to the side, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. Her small intake of breath was enough to make him continue, as she opened the door and stepped inside. Her hands found the bottles and blindly took them from him, placing them on the table inside the door. Frankie’s unopened sandwich tumbled to the floor as he turned her around and cupped her face in his hands. She barely managed to pull the door closed behind him and turn the lock, before he pushed her inwards, kicking his boots off as he went. Catching a glimpse of the room, the bed pushed up against a wall, he let her pull him towards it. 

A trail of clothes littered the floor before she pulled him down over her. His mouth on hers, his tongue wrapping around hers, as his large hands spanned her cheeks and the back of her head. Catching himself with one hand above her, he tugged his jeans down while she grabbed his shoulders, one hand slipping down between them to push inside his boxers and eagerly wrap around his hard length. 

Frankie hissed, gasped into her mouth, as her thumb swiped across his weeping head, the silky beads spreading over the soft skin as he kicked the boxers off his feet. With smooth strokes she teased him to grow harder under her touch, and he rewarded her with growls that went straight to her pussy, making her press her thighs together. 

“Fuck, Aisling,” he huffed, his hips jerking into her hand, “let me take care of you first.” He pulled back a little from her mouth, she felt her lips tingle from the way his mustache had scratched against her skin, and the almost pained expression on his face made her smile. His eyes were half closed, eyebrows pulled together as he huffed out every breath in time with her strokes down his shaft. 

“Does it feel good, Frankie?” she asked, her voice low and soft, “Are you going to come in my hand? Is this what you thought about in the shower?”

With an effort he shook his head, a strained chuckle coming out, “No, I pictured…fuck…other parts of you around my c-cock.”

“Tell me,” she teased, slowing her strokes, caressing his balls as her hand moved down and Frankie whined, pressing his hips down into her palm. 

“Y-your…mouth. Fuck…bebita…let me taste you, I want to eat your cunt before…before I fuck you…” His hand moved down between them, briefly wrapping around hers as she held his cock, slowing her strokes, “Can I lick your pussy, hermosa?” he asked, looking down at her with dark eyes as she nodded, his hand moving dangerously close to the center of her core. 

“Fuck, yes please…Frankie, touch me,” she groaned as he slid his fingers down through her folds, catching her clit with the back of his nails. She gasped, hips jumping up towards his hand, moaning again, his name now stuck like a prayer in her throat. 

“I knew you’d be so wet, so fucking wet for me, hermosa…” Frankie groaned and pushed her legs part, eagerly sliding down between her thighs as she moved her hands to his hair. His curls were just as soft as she remembered, but when he bent his head and ran his tongue through her for the first time, all thoughts were pushed from her head. 

“Holy shit, Frankie…” she moaned, falling limp against the bed as he put one of her legs over his shoulder. With a soft chuckle he nudged the tip of his nose against her sensitive little bundle of nerves, while his tongue teased her entrance. 

With each lap her body arched up from the bed, her fingers gripping his hair tight, spurring him on. He used his hands to keep her open for him, keeping her pinned down as she started writhing underneath him, gasping his name, her hips rocking against his open mouth. Glancing up at her, he caught her tilting her face up towards the ceiling, her teeth bared as if in pain, but the noises falling from her lips told him otherwise. Every breathy moan, gasping whine, made his cock ache, as she praised him and his mouth. 

When her muscles began to tense and tremble beneath him, he grabbed her hips, held her steady and sucked her throbbing clit into his mouth, flicked his tongue over and over, until she all but imploded in his arms. She cried out his name, the sound muffled by her thighs tight around his ears. The sweet sting of her fingers in his hair made him groan into her cunt as he licked her through the orgasm. 

With a shaky breath she let go of his curls, apologizing for almost ripping his hair out as she flexed her fingers.

“ ‘S fine,” Frankie chuckled, kissing the inside of her thigh before moving up her body, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses along her overheated skin, “I like it, makes me feel how much you’re enjoying my mouth on you.” 

“Fuck yeah, Frankie, holy shit, you really know how to do that well…” Aisling sighed, relishing in his warm body sliding over her sweat slick skin. The hard length of his cock pressed against her lower belly as he held himself over her. Letting her arms wrap around his neck and shoulders she pulled him down towards her mouth, the salty taste of herself mixing with his own as she opened her mouth to his tongue. He licked into her with slow strokes, letting his hips roll against her, seeking some relief for his aching cock trapped between their bodies. 

“Condoms in the bedside table, Frankie,” Aisling mumbled against him as he let slip an especially needy groan into her mouth. He nodded and pushed off her, rolling over to the side and fishing out the packet. Aisling watched as he sat up and ripped it open, taking his cock in hand and rolled the rubber down over his thick length with a slight hiss. His skin was golden under the light of the small lamp in the corner, his curls an unruly halo around his head and he was a vision where he sat, hand wrapped around his cock, turning to look at her. 

“Come here, cowboy,” she smiled at him, reaching for his hand, “How do you want me?” 

“I want to feel you come around my cock,” he replied, coming back to her, crowding her and letting his hand slip over her breast, grabbing at the soft flesh, “Tell me how I can make you come again, bebita.” 

“Let me be on top,” she answered, smiling as he groaned and grabbed her waist, “Hold me and let me ride that thick cock, Frankie.” 

“Fuck, yes, anything you want,” he growled as she settled down over him, a leg on each side of his narrow hips as he leaned against the headboard. His fingers held on to her thighs as she lined him up and slowly sank down over him. His breath was strained and his whole body tensed up underneath her. She could feel his legs flex, and as he tilted his head back with a groan, every fiber of his flushed neck was stretched taught. With a soft moan she let herself sink all the way down, slowly rolling her hips over him, causing him to mutter in Spanish into the dark room. 

“I don’t speak Spanish, Frankie,” she mumbled, smiling down at him as he tilted his head forward and gave her a foggy look through half open eyes, “but I’m going to take that as a compliment.” 

“So fucking good…” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck, “So fucking tight and hot, feel like…fuck…” he gasped as she lifted herself up, squeezing him as she sank down again, “feel like fucking heaven,” he panted. 

Aisling felt his mouth against the skin on her neck, one arm around her waist, the other holding tight around her shoulders as he fucked up into her as best he could. She squeezed him, sliding up and down, lifting her hips to meet him, his groans growing louder in her ear. Pushing her hand between their slick bodies she found where they were joined and let her fingers feel him drive in and out of her for a beat. Leaned against her, Frankie cursed in Spanish again and gasped. 

“Oh shit that’s hot,” he panted, “feeling your fingers on me…Baby, please, use me, make yourself come.” 

He pulled back a little so that he could watch her hand move between them, his eyes slipping closed as he got lost in the feeling of her squeezing him with every roll of her hips. Her free hand was in his hair, curled around his damp strands, and when he felt her tighten her grip, he knew she was close again. 

Biting his lip he fought against his own climax, egging hers on, sucking on her skin, biting her neck and making her moan into the quiet room. He lifted his hips and pulled her down hard over him and she went rigid in his arms, crying out as her back arched. The way her cunt spasmed around his aching cock, her body shaking under his hold, made him fall over the edge with her. With a shout into her neck he felt himself explode, wave after wave of heat rolling through his body in an almost painful release as he pulled her against him. Her head lolled back on her neck, gasping for air as his stuttering hips kept her rolling through her climax. She could feel him tense up, his thighs shaking between her legs. 

“Fuuuuuck….” Frankie groaned, finally going limp in her arms as he fell back against the headboard, pulling her with him, her head on his shoulder now. She breathed in his warm skin, placing a small kiss just under his ear to taste the drops of sweat that were slowly making their way down his neck. Somehow she imagined him tasting like wood fire and well worn leather from the saddles and reins, open air and big skies. It was all in her head, but she liked the thought, this warm, solid cowboy between her legs, panting softly as he relaxed in her arms. 

It took them both a while to find the energy to move. Eventually, Frankie gripped the edge of the condom as she lifted off him, flopping onto the bed next to him while he disposed of it. He lay down next to her and she wondered if he’d cuddle her, if he was a cuddler. But he remained flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling as a long, deep sigh escaped him and he put his arm over his eyes. 

Aisling stayed next to him for a while, feeling the shift in the room while Frankie remained silent. The air cooled her skin and a little shiver ran through her and she began to sit up. 

“I’m going to clean up, I’m getting cold,” she mumbled, not looking at the dark haired man who seemed to have closed himself off from her the second he came. But his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back, and suddenly he had her wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest as he kissed the top of her head. 

“I’m sorry, I got in my head again,” he muttered into her soft hair, “I…it’s been a while since I…I never used to just ‘sleep around’.” 

She could hear the air quotes in his voice and the deep sigh that followed. 

“It’s fine, just enjoy it, Frankie,” Aisling said, her face still resting on his chest while he slowly started stroking his large palms up and down her back, “Sex can make us feel weird afterwards.” 

“Yeah…” he replied in a low voice, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…good?” 

At that Aisling giggled, snorting against his warm skin. 

“You came back to my place expecting bad sex? Is that what you’re saying?” She looked up at him and he had a small smile playing around his soft looking lips. 

Frankie chuckled, the same low tone rumbling through him, “No, not bad sex, just…sex with someone for the first time is usually more awkward right? Figuring out what works, what the other person likes, what turns them on, you know.” 

He lifted his eyebrows as he met her look and she realized she could just drown in those soft brown eyes, his face suddenly looking so worried, tugging at her heartstrings. Reaching up she slipped the pad of her thumb over the double worry lines between his eyes, smoothing them out as he smiled. 

“I guess, Frankie, but sometimes it’s just easy, you know? You seemed to know exactly what I liked without even trying.” 

She smiled up at him, still caressing his face, tracing her thumb over his scruffy facial hair. Frankie let his eyes slip closed, pressing his cheek into her warm hand, his mind going quiet again. It had stopped spinning when he’d first pressed his lips to the soft skin of the back of her neck outside the door. Every thought in his head had only been of her while he peeled off her clothes, and then his own, tasting her, touching her and finally letting his orgasm hit. But as he fell back on the bed, it all came back, the din in his head, thoughts pushing in and guilt settled heavily in his gut.

It had never been this easy with Eva, never made him feel like this. Not even when they were actually in love and in the first rosy months of their relationship. Granted, he’d been high as a fucking kite for the earliest period, before he got help and dropped the habit. She’d helped with that though, a lot. She’d been a solid, calming presence back then, but never like this. Eva had never made his head go silent the way Aisling seemed to without even trying, without even knowing about all the shit inside him. 

Now Aisling’s fingers played across his face as she scooted up and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips and he felt the corners of his mouth lift as she bumped her nose against his. 

“I really am getting cold, I’m going to take a shower. You’re welcome to join me, cowboy.” 

“Ok, city slicker,” he replied with a chuckle, letting her pull him off the bed with a grin.

A/N: Please yell at me about how horrible Eva is, I love how everyone instantly hated her😅 But you know, the way I see it, she's seen Frankie at his lowest. She knows what he's like when he's addicted and I think she's just too scared that she'll have a baby with him in New York, he won't be able to handle it and start using again to quieten his mind. And then she'll have to handle a baby on her own, and Frankie with an addiction. I think if things were different, if he didn't have his issues, she'd like to keep the baby and start over with him. What do you think?

And also, I hate saying, but Frankie's a bit of an asshole for sleeping with Aisling and not telling her about Eva... but I made him do it so I can't really say anything! 😬😅

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury @typewriter83

[worldofkuro]

idk if it sounds selfish but i need more comfort in my life rn, so i wanna ask for help.

if it's not really a big deal, i wanna see some comfort between alastor and reader when they were teens. maybe after he already told her that he wants to marry her, and something made her feel insecure and bad about herself. so she called Marie and ask Alastor to come, so she could lie down in his arms and listen him telling her that he loves her anyway.

or any other plots because I'll be okay with everything if it's fluff. thank you.

Of course dearest, anything for you to feel better. For those who will notice it, their last sentence is from the song “ Follow You” by Bring me the Horizon. I love this song and I thought it was pretty fitting. So here ,my dear, this scenario isn’t very long but I hope it will make you feel better. 

Follow You

You were coming back from school, trying to contain your tears. 

You had told Alice about Alastor’s wedding proposal and she was excited for you but some other girls heard you and made fun of you. How could a man see you desirable enough to be his wife? Most of the time, you didn’t care about their vile words, but you didn’t know why, today it was hurtful. Of course, Alice had taken your side immediately swearing at them like a sailor.

You didn’t greet your parents as you went immediately into your bedroom, hiding yourself under the blankets. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. Were you even worth being Alastor’s wife? He would always say you were “endearingly stupid”, did it mean he saw you as a stupid girl? Was he manipulating you?

Were you worth being special to someone’s heart?

You jerked your head up as you heard a knock on your window. You wiped your eyes and saw Alastor, his fist against the glass, staring at you. You opened the window quickly, scared he would fall.

“ Alastor, what are you doing here?”

“ I heard my mother talking with yours through the telephone, saying you didn’t feel well, so I came to check on you.” he entered your room, looking at you. You saw his eyes stopped at your tearied one. You tried to look away but he gripped your face, making sure he could watch your expression. “ Who?”

“ What..?”

“ Who made you cry?” he said with a gentle smile but his eyes had a dark glint.

“ No one.. It’s just… Am I worth it , Alastor?”

You gasped as Alastor forced you to lay on your bed, pushing something soft in your arms. Looking down on it you almost cried some more as you saw Eamon staring back at you. You squeezed it against your chest as Alastor laid next to you, observing your face.

“ Dearest, you’re just like a jewel. Being desired by people and those who can't have you are jealous. You are like a fresh breeze in summer, so short and yet so welcomed. You are much more than how you perceive yourself.”

“ But.. I feel like I’m going to be a useless wife…”

“ Hah! You, my dear, a useless wife? You could be doing nothing at home, as long as you are waiting for me, I would feel the happiest. But why would you think that? You have always been to my side, always accepted me. Why would I choose someone else to be next to me for my entire life? How could I look at anyone else now that my eyes have seen you?”

“ Alastor.. Do you love me…?”

He looked perplexed but wrapped his arms around your body, staring at your eyes without blinking.

“ I don’t know what love is about. But if loving you is wanting to devour you all, to protect you, you have your attention on me all the time, then I guess.. that I love you. But please, dearest, remember that even though I adore you, more than anything, my love is tainted with darkness. No matter how much I’m obsessed with you, I’ll drag you down to hell with me. I'm telling you, you're all I need, I promise you, you're all I see. I’ll never leave.” he stared at you, waiting for your answer.

“ I’ll follow you.’ you breathed, staring at his chocolate eyes. “So dig two graves because when you die, I swear I'll be leaving by your side. So you can drag me through hell, I’ll follow you.” you smiled sweetly at him as he beamed at your words, his cheeks flushed. He squeezed you against his body, Eamon between the both of you. 

You would always be together, the both of you. Alastor would always be by your side, like a curse, clawing at you to keep you from leaving, even if you would never think such a thing.

Your love was twisted, tainted in dark obsession but it was perfect for the both of you. Maybe people wouldn’t consider it as love, but you knew deep inside, Alastor would always chase after you if you were to run away. If you were to run away because of your feelings, your fears, everything, the only person who would chase you would be Alastor. And you knew he would never stop.

He would follow you.

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

Javery fight headcanons because we both know those two are going to have a major major fight at some point

averyjameson fight head canons

of course <3. i apologize if this sucks, i haven't really slept in days T-T. this one will be shorter than my other posts cause the topic isn't as broad (and wont just be about one major fight but just a fights in general too), but i hope you still enjoy them <3. @ariscats helped with some of these <3. she's amazing.

i've mentioned this before, but i think that their codeword, tahiti, was created as a result of one of their bigger fights in order to avoid them.

jameson is the one that created the code word.

i think a lot of their fights would be related to each of them keeping secrets. avery's mentioned not liking being vulnerable before which, i think, would cause issues in their relationship. she'd keep secrets in order to keep herself from being vulnerable and jamie would hate it and confront her about it. she'd be very defensive and wouldn't admit to keeping secrets which would make things worse.

i think jamie would also have trouble opening up which is smth that would annoy avery a lot. unlike avery, though, it's not because he doesn't want to talk to her, it's bc he's afraid of what she would think of him/not wanting her to see him differently. she'd confront him about it, but he'd deny it and tell her that he has no reason to want to lie to her (lies).

they're the type of people that, even when they're mad at each other, have to sleep in each others arms bc its the only thing that keeps the nightmares away.

i feel like they're also the type of people who would try their best to not raise their voices bc they know its not healthy but would end up doing it anyways.

most of their fights ends with someone crying (not because they hurt each other's feelings, but bc they end up becoming vulnerable with each other and that makes one (or both of them) cry)

i think that whenever they have a major fight, avery would do smth like not eat. she'd get so mad she'd forget to/she wouldn't head to the kitchen to get smth in order to not see jameson by chance. jameson would make sure to make/get her smth and leave it by the door or give it to oren.

they'd definitely have fights about how careless jamie is with his life. i imagine that whatever happened in prague caused a screaming match between them.

they'd try to resolve their fights before bedtime bc they hate going to bed mad.

jamie would get really afraid whenever avery is mad at him bc he'd get the idea in his head that she was going to leave him. that's why, now, whenever they fight, avery makes sure to tell him that she's not leaving him before hand.

i also think a lot of their fights would be caused by avery overworking herself/not taking care of herself, and jamie would get worried/mad and say smth about it (avery disagrees with him thinking its unhealthy bc she thinks its her duty).

speaking of overworking, avery would work so often she'd start neglecting jamie (there are fics about this). this would obviously also cause fights.

i also think that, near the beginning of their relationship, jamie would have a really hard time expressing his emotions properly and would try to hide them by acting careless/happy, enough to hurt avery's feelings multiple times.

when fighting, avery would get so mad and anxious she'd start digging her nails into her palms really hard (its something i've noticed she does in the books too so this is less of a head canon). even though they're fighting, jamie doesn't like seeing this and will grab onto her hands and hold them or will give her smth to hold if she doesn't want to touch him.

they're the type of people to take breaks from their fights cause they hate having disagreements. they'll have a screaming match and then one will go 'break?' and they'll pretend as if nothing happened and come back to the fight later.

ok so idk if this will make sense but ill try my best to explain it properly. avery reads the hate comments she receives and starts believing them, smth she'd never admit. instead of admitting it to herself, she'd sort of project onto jamie and convince herself that he thinks the same/believes the comments. their fights would revolve a lot around that, i think. avery would go 'so many people call my ugly and unworthy of you, why would you not think the same?'

speaking of those fights that i mentioned in the hc right before this one, these ones tend to not become screaming matches. jamie would try to comfort her calmly bc he knows screaming won't do them any well.

as their relationship moves forward, their fights get rarer, and when they do, they don't scream (if they do, very very rare)

idk if this is even possible but it happens to me so im guessing it is. i mentioned earlier that jamie gets scared when they fight bc he's convinced himself avery will leave him. well when he gets scared, he also gets cold so they always have a blanket on hand for jameson to use if this happens.

avery would get jealous of jamie's ex's at the beginning of their relationship bc she has shown hints of being insecure about her looks in the books. this would also cause issues with jamie.

at the beginning of their relationship, avery, like mentioned earlier, would get really insecure about her looks, enough that she would compare herself to girls online and people jameson followed (he only follows them cause they're family friends/extended family members, etc). the fact that jameson used to see her as a game and her own insecurities really messed with her head, but she never talked about it with jameson because she hated being vulnerable. this would cause fights until jamie realized what was going and then he created the code-word.

whenever they're done fighting, they always have these huge love confessions planned bc, like i said a million times before, they hate fighting and like to end it on a good note.

whenever they're done fighting, they give each other a little kiss and cuddle cause they hate being mad at each other.

[ronearoundblindly]

F and Z for nomad steve! i love that fic tbh

From this ask game and about the Hideout series with touch-starved!Steve x motel employee!reader.

*sorry this took so long. Technically wasn't doing these anymore but then again this month has been a miserable mess of work and allergy pain, so this might get something flowing writing-wise. Enjoy!

Dirty headcanons ahoy! Minors DNI, please and thank you. There is plenty for you to enjoy from my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you!

F - Food Play

Ok, this one is very simple: food in the bedroom generally means something in his hand or in your hand that isn't part of the other person. Steve prefers skin-to-skin contact. He likes to be touching you and likes you to be touching him. He doesn't give a shit about food other than providing you with whatever you need or want of it to fuel sexual activities--or life, ya know, because he's very respectful and aware that life is not about sex--just not food during sex. Sorry. It holds no interest for him.

If you want to, cool, but that doesn't enhance anything for him.

Z - Zones

Uh...everywhere?!

But ok, I see what y'all want. Let's break this down, full-body style, starting with extremities.

Steve has a thing with his hands. It's an intimate act to offer love and affection to parts of him that inflict damage and pain. This is something he enjoys about art: good and beautiful things can come from a piece of him used for violence. As far as his feet? This is more of a playful enjoyment, a comfort. Steve doesn't derive sensuality from touching his feet, but he fakes being ticklish so he can act a little childish and playful with you. He likes to be barefoot (as a sign he isn't ready to run), and if his legs are on you, his feet are likely pressed to you as well. Hopefully that makes sense. Steve likes to tuck into your body as much as possible.

Alrighty, LEGS! Take a deep breath, ladies, because Steve gets extremely excited for a sharp grip on his thighs and just a hint of your nails biting his skin while you go down on him. That's not a sign it's too much for you; he takes that as encouragement. He likes when your hands go groping and wandering anywhere while you slowly take him as deep as you can (mouth or pussy), but he is an absolute whore for your enthusiasm. When you act like you can't possibly have enough of him at once, he cannot possibly hold in his own appreciation.

🥴

::takes break to scream into the void::

Onto the arms, head, and chest...right...yeah, so, Nomad's got that gorgeous fucking hair, but do not pull on it--not hard, ok, not a lot. You get far more from Steve by being gentle around his upper body, similar to the hands. He feels devotion and adoration through gentle touch above the belt. He likes the sort of all-encompassing feel of being hugged or slightly smothered by your body on his. If you cage his face in with your arms and hands, if you make the world feel shrunken to just the two of you in that moment, Steve melts. He's a goner for that. He likes your weight on his chest--or face because face-sitting is great--but as much skin-to-skin contact as possible is always welcome.

Steve gets oddly thrilled by you placing his body how you'd like. Other than the hair or beard, he enjoys you tugging at him to maximize your own comfort or pleasure. That's often how he learns what drives you crazy, in good and bad ways.

This brings us to, yes, you guessed it: the ass, cock, and balls.

Ironically, very sensitive and erogenous zones that aren't Steve's favorite. Playfully smack his butt at your own peril; he does NOT like that during sex, gang. Lock your legs around him, fine. Dig in with what would be a bruising grip (to anyone normal), go for it. Nomad does not enjoy any sort of impact play. Choose moments outside of intimacy wisely for that.

Touch-starved Stevie is extremely sensitive to outright sexual contact, so he sorta needs a lot of foreplay, sweetness, and closeness before his actual erection is involved. It's just too fast for him otherwise. Then he feels like he's using you. If there's one thing that will make Steve feel shittier than having to kill people, it's using a woman--especially you--for sex and seemingly nothing else.

Does he eventually stop coming so quickly? Sure. He never wants to leave the room without making you feel taken care of, much less actually leaving the property. That makes him feel guilty and miserable.

BUT!!! Don't fret. When he does have longer nights to stay with you, to go multiple rounds, to let you explore him without fuss, then yeah, he gets very excited to let you tease and stroke him and figure out that Steve just literally cannot keep his shit together if you get your mouth on his balls. Lots of licking and kissing. Some sucking. Oh my god... I mean... Nicest way possible? Slut for it. Just saying.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner

@rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes 

@buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[kyletogaz]

mdni

idk something about getting fucked in price’s office

cw: p in v sex

“you have to be quiet, love,” john says while he has you bent over his desk with your skirt up and panties wrapped around one of your ankles as he bullies his cock into your sopping cunt.

you’ve got your face smushed into the wooden desk, drool leaking out of your mouth as you wail softly at the delicious sensation of john’s cock dragging against your spongy walls.

“i’m trying,” you manage to choke out between whines.

you’re gripping the desk for dear life as john’s hips smack into your ass with every harsh thrust. he’s tearing your shit up and all you can do is lie there and take it.

“try harder,” he snaps out as he tugs you back and forth on his cock, his grip on your hips damn near bruising. “if you can be a good girl and shut that pretty little mouth of yours, daddy’ll let you cum on his cock. can you do that for me?”

you croak out an incoherent reply that must be good enough for john, because he drives his cock deeper into your cunt, making you whimper softly. he’s tossing you around his desk like a goddamn rag doll but you don’t care. you want to cum on john’s cock. you can be quiet for daddy. you can be a good girl.

“f-fuck,” you hiss as one particular thrust has the desk digging into your pelvis.

“what did i say, sweetheart?” john asks as he pulls out them slams his cock back into your hole. “do i need to stuff your mouth?”

your let out a soft cry with a frantic shake of your head.

“make another sound and i’ll do it,” he snarls as he ruts into you with a low groan. “cunt’s so wet and so goddamn tight. i could stay inside of you forever.”

you whine in response to his words as you push your ass back against him. “please,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

but john does hear you. and the next thing you know, your panties are being stuffed in your mouth. you let out a muffled sound of disbelief at his audacity. you can’t do shit about it though, as he laughs in your ear at your displeasure. john’s laugh sends a shiver up your spine. it’s soft and dangerous, a warning.

if he wasn’t hitting your g-spot and knocking the air out of your lungs with every thrust, you’d be indignant. but that’ll never happen. john has every intention to fuck you stupid, and it’s working as the thoughts leave your head.

“nothing to say now, huh?” john asks, his voice mocking as he leans over to look at your face. he lets out a soft groan when he sees your dazed expression. “just look at you taking my cock like you were made for it.”

your grip on john’s desk tightens when his thrusts become frenzied. you can feel your wet cunt clenching around john as he drives his cock in and out of you. all you can do is wail around your panties when you feel that familiar sensation building. you’re so close to getting what you want. you let out a muffled shriek when john’s meaty fingers rubs at your clit in sync with his thrusts. and then it’s all too much. your orgasm knocks the wind out of you as your cunt spasms around john’s cock. and then he’s covering your body with his, as he pants and moans in your ear like a whore while he fucks into you and chases his nut.

when john cums inside of you, he never fucking stops. you can feel his cock pulsing inside of you with every thick rope of cum he shoots out. when he pulls out of you, finally, you remove your panties from your mouth. you whine when john strokes a hand down your back.

“you okay, baby?”

“i can feel myself leaking all over your floor, john,” you hiss at him. “i can’t believe you shoved these in my mouth.”

you flung your wet panties right at john’s face, then let out a groan of disgust when he stuffed them in his back pocket.

“i should make you eat your own cum out of my pussy as punishment for putting panties in my mouth.”

“spread your legs then.”

a/n: uhh 😵‍💫

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Hi hi! Fic prompt if you fancy it;

"I know you're used to doing this stuff alone but would it kill you to let someone actually help for once?"

With a bit of whump on the side?

Have a great day :)

Nonny, you definitely fueled my creativity with this, and I'm very grateful, thank you! So, it's not much, but as this was unexpectedly not the only prompt I received today, I thought I'm gonna make a short collection of all prompts resp. fics I'm doing for those prompts. That being said, I will probably use every prompt I've been gifted today, just not very quickly, and I appreciate your patience. So, for the first prompt, have this:

Love can only heal (1271 words, T, no warnings, below the cut and on AO3)!

— Don't be afraid to feel Cause love can only heal —

"You know, I'm disappointed, Evan."

Buck doesn't fancy being a disappointment – yes, he's used to it, just not to hearing it from Tommy. Tommy, standing at the threshold to Buck’s loft, this look in his beautiful eyes. However, it looks more like concern; like honest, downright intimate care.

"D… disappointed?"

Buck is genuinely confused, but he’s also quite distracted. Tommy leans in the doorframe like a high school bully, he undoubtedly has the physical qualities of someone who won’t stop at hurting you with words. Then again, this is Tommy, and besides the somewhat worried gaze, his eyes are nothing but soft. That’s an extremely confusing charisma.

"Are you going to let me in or…?"

Tommy's fleeting gesture includes the hallway and the doors of Buck's neighbors, and for a second, another very contradictory feeling arouses. Buck doesn't want to disturb his neighbors, but he also wants the whole world to see Tommy. Tommy, who has kissed him and whom he has kissed (oh, and way more than that) and with whom he can imagine a host of new things, the most innocuous of which is to make up for the canceled dance at Maddie's crashed wedding reception.

Buck limps to the side and Tommy enters, and as always, his sheer presence seems to fill the loft. It's as if that wide open space shrinks to a minimum until there are only Tommy's eyes, still resting on Buck, but – thank goodness – anything but disapproving.

"If I had a penny for every time you broke your foot, Evan…"

"... you'd have two, which isn't much, but funny that it happened twice," Buck replies automatically, and now they're both grinning, and that's when he knows everything’s going to be okay. He just knows.

"It's not my fault, by the way," Buck adds, limping over to the couch and patting it cheekily for Tommy to sit down, "no one could have guessed that just as I was digging that puppy out of the rubble, there'd be a piece of ceiling coming down."

"Of course you'd rescue a puppy in a burning house that's almost collapsing," Tommy replies softly, and then he does that thing again.

He puts two fingers under Buck's chin, lifts it; Buck's heart beats hard in anticipation of a kiss, but no. Tommy's eyes strangely resemble Buck of the puppy he pulled out of a pile of debris, but there’s also something else in them... it's not really disappointment, it's more like... hurt.

"But I don't quite understand why I have to hear this from Maddie, Evan."

The way Tommy says Evan... if Buck didn't actually feel a little guilty – because now he knows what's going on, now he realizes – he'd probably pounce on the pilot for good. They’d make out on the couch, because that’s basically where Evan sleeps since the accident, and then… Tommy wait’s for an answer, that’s clear. If only Buck’s mind wasn’t so empty.

"I... uh…" Buck isn't particularly good at apologizing. He spent his whole life apologizing for existing, and it never helped.

"From Maddie," Tommy continues, "and not from my boyfriend."

Buck's face becomes as hot as that of a kid caught in the act.

"I just didn't want to..."

Everything Buck might say collapses in his mind like a ridiculous house of cards; the thoughts seem stupid to him. Perhaps that is simply his fate. Maybe he will never get away from being an eternal disappointment to everyone in his life.

"Evan," Tommy says, and there's something in his voice that makes Buck look up, "do you trust me?"

Buck's heart skips an extra beat. Does Tommy know he's repeating the exact words he said to Buck on their first night together? It opened up a whole new world for him. And only now does he really understand how far this goes. Being genuinely wanted. Loved, even, in a completely different way than he is used to.

"Yes," he simply replies, grasping Tommy's hands and holding them tightly, because this is something to hold on to.

"I know you're used to doing this stuff alone but would it kill you to let someone actually help for once?" asks Tommy, and it's still unbelievable that Tommywants to be that someone.

There’s an answer on the tip of Buck’s tongue, and he quickly swallows it. Because yes, sometimes even Evan Buckley can control himself. He could have said that he only broke his foot, that he can still walk (well, limp), that he doesn't need any help. He could refer to their often so different shifts making it hard to see each other more often, and there's Maddie and the rest of the crew to help out, but… That’s not what Tommy meant, and he knows it. 

"I'm a lousy boyfriend, huh," Buck says with his crooked grin that defuses many situations, but Tommy immediately shakes his head.

"Evan Buckley, you're everything I want, get that in your thick skull," he says sternly, yet there's that glint in his eye, "and I don't want you to change, all right? I just want to, ugh..."

Tommy is adorable in his embarrassment, gesturing broadly, searching for words.

"I know," Buck says, and now there's probably something in his tone that makes Tommy sit up and take notice. Because he really knows what Tommy wants, and that's something that none of his previous partners ever actually wanted, not even Abby, at least not like this.

He wants to be a part of Buck's life, a real part, not a decoration, not a fleeting affair. Not an exciting party topic, or just the guy you call when you need a place to sleep. Tommy gives his all, he puts all his heart into this. So far, Buck had the most profound conversations with Tommy and, as strange as it sounds, the most profound sex. Above all, though, emotions deeper than anything he’s felt before. Truer than everything he’s felt before. Yes, Tommy gives his all, and that’s why Buck has to do the same.

His phone is lying on the floor in front of the sofa; in this life, Buck will never be tidy, but right now it is lying there very suitably. He takes it, and as he taps on it, he almost hears Tommy's frown.

"What are you doing, Evan?"

"Here," he replies and holds the mobile in Tommy's face. "From now on, you're the first, all right?"

Tommy once told him that he was a pretender for so many years. He’s had years of practice in turning his face into a mask, showing whatever those around him expected him to be, to feel. He doesn't do that anymore, and he knows that he doesn't need it with Buck, something that delights him greatly. And so it is not surprising that Tommy's facial expression quickly changes from irritation to something very, very soft. Well, a bit like a puppy after all.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his eyes seeking the same confirmation as his words.

His name is at the top of Buck's contact list, under emergency contact. Maybe that's only flattering for someone like Buck and Tommy, only understandable for people like them who risk their lives for others and so often fall by the wayside themselves. Tommy understands. He exhales a bated breath, and it sounds like a sweet sigh of relief.

"Very, very sure," Buck replies, and he doesn’t mean just this silly gesture, of course.

He means it all. He’s in it, he’ll give his all. And Tommy?

Tommy knows, and he smiles.

[salternateunreality2]

I feel that after Sephiroth took dating advice from Zack and it actually worked, it's only downhill from there

100%

Read at your own risk

Sephiroth now goes to Zack for ALL dating advice, and much life advice.

Zack: Ok, you gotta bring a bow-ket of flor-ets, hehehehehe

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Zack: chicks dig that!

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Zack: remember protection! Don't want a bunch of kiddos running around.

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Zack: chocolate is usually a good idea. My favorite is tootsie rolls!

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Zack: Hold the door for her! And dress nice, get a nice clean shirt--Angeal says buttons are a must--and your bluest jeans, not ones you use for working.

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Zack: if it rains, some old fashioned gals like it if you carry them over puddles or throw your jacket down so they don't get wet, but that's kinda outdated.

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Zack: And man, here's the real secret: you gotta, and I mean you GOTTA, flick the bean and lick the lunch meat, if you know what I mean. You'll get her super wet!

Sephiroth: Wait, I thought we were supposed to avoid getting her wet?

Zack: only in the rain, man, only in the rain. 😉

Sephiroth: *taking notes*

Later that evening...

*ding dong*

Lazard: *opens the door*

Sephiroth is standing there in a shirt that exposes his belly button and is festooned with buttons, as if it was stolen from an art student's studio after a crazed night before finals where the assignment was to use whatever was at hand and they only had buttons and a bedsheet.

He has also painted a very tasteful strand of DNA next to his belly button in the bluest blue body paint he could find. He removed the harness to accommodate the button shirt, but is still wearing his coat, pants, boots, and yes, pauldrons and gloves.

He is holding a pot full of dirt and...is that a grub? In one hand, and a bouquet of broccoli florets in the other. A plastic bag is dangling from his belt.

Sephiroth: Hello, Lazard. Would you like to accompany me on our scheduled date?

Lazard: 👁️👁️

Sephiroth: 🐱

Lazard: Certainly. Is that a bouquet?

Sephiroth: Yes, even though Zackary pronounced it incorrectly earlier, I discerned his true meaning.

Lazard: Here, let me put it in water. Feel free to set down your...items...as well.

Sephiroth: I was informed to bring things that chicks would dig, so this is a pot of grubs. I also purchased beans and lunch meat for licking and flicking activities later, and a gift of chocolate. Please hold still. *Takes a slice of lunch meat out of the packet and gently applies it to Lazard's face*

Lazard: I'm sorry, I don't understand...?

Sephiroth: Oh! I was supposed to make you wet if it wasn't raining, and since you're using the sink to fill that vase, this was the next best thing I could think of. Is...is it working? Do you feel adequately wet?

Lazard: goddess yes, but, ah, I don't need the meat, well, not THAT meat, on my face.

Sephiroth: Oh! *Licks it off, has a nice little snack*

Lazard: *trembles*

Sephiroth: Shall we go out then? I'm unsure if the beans are meant to be flicked here or abroad; I was hoping you would advise.

Lazard, leaning against the counter, voice coming out in a squeak: We can stay in!

Sephiroth: Are you certain? While full of protein and with a vegetable, this hardly seems an appropriately fancy meal for someone I am trying to woo.

Lazard, hiding his...area d'oolala...and sweating: No it's fine!

Sephiroth: I can always summon Masamune to ward off children!

Lazard: I don't think that would be necessary either way *panting*

Sephiroth: Well, if we're not going out, I would like to show you what else I learned. *Throws another wet piece of lunch meat on the floor, then his coat on top of it (oh Gaia, the button monstrosity is a tank top that shows his arms), then picks up Lazard and walks over it.* There! You wouldn't be wet if it was raining! At least your feet wouldn't!

Lazard, face to face with the hottest man in Midgar: Take your pants off.

Sephiroth: One last thing! *Grabs the nearest door, which happens to be the bedroom door* *beaming*

Lazard: Are you...holding the door for me?

Sephiroth: Yes!

Lazard: fuck me

Sephiroth: Of course!

[lookingfts]

Can we see Anthony operating his phone sex business once he and Kate are together? I love that Kate didn't want him to stop. Oh, this is from like I see you 🤦🏻‍♀️

A great ask! I’ve been meaning to get around to this for a while. (For those who didn’t see the ask this came from, this was my original concept for the ending of Like I See You, but it didn’t fit with the tone of the last chapter. But it’s always been canon in my head. Also, this is very, very NSFW lol.)

It’s interesting, being on the other side of the phone.

She and Anthony had only been dating for a couple of months when Kate brought it up during a sexy shower. Of course, her timing had never been ideal, so she waited until Anthony had two fingers curled inside her to pant, “What happened to your other clients?”

Stilling his hand but not removing it, Anthony blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”

“Your other clients,” she repeated, staring into his blown pupils. “What did you tell them?”’

“Um,” he said, clearly struggling with a lack of blood flow to his brain. “When I realized I had feelings for you, I put them on hold while I figured everything out. If…you know, if you felt the same. And then I told them when we started dating that I was retiring.”

Kate put her hand over his, encouraging him to continue fingering her as she spoke. “What if you didn’t?” she asked, moaning a little when Anthony twisted his fingers inside her.

“What if I didn’t what?”

“What if you didn’t retire?” Kate wrapped her arms around him for stability as she rocked her hips against his hand, her orgasm building slowly and steadily. “I’ve been thinking about it. About…how you were there for me when I needed you. And I think we could help these women too.”

Anthony circled her clit with his thumb, grinning as she gasped and clung to him tighter. “We?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, digging her nails into his shoulder as the tension curled along her spine. “I want to be a part of it. With you.”

He kissed her fiercely, licking into her open mouth, and Kate shuddered as she came on his fingers, her limbs feeling tired and heavy.

Withdrawing gently, Anthony pecked her lips again. “Are you sure?”

Kate smiled, caressing his cheek. “As long as you don’t plan on falling for any of them.”

“I’m pretty sure,” he said, sounding out of breath himself, “that was a one-time thing.”

XX

She knows the women on the other end of the line can’t see her, but Kate finds enjoyment in getting ready anyway. Pulling out a sexy lingerie set – her lingerie takes up a truly shocking amount of closet space these days – and letting her hair flow freely, a bit of eyeliner and a touch of lip gloss to finish it off. It makes her feel sensual, powerful, a feeling that she credits Anthony with helping her find again.

Kate knows what it’s like to feel stuck, to feel lost in her own skin, for the passion and pleasure to be drained out of life. All she wants is to help other women get out of the same rut.

Anthony is already on the phone with the client when Kate walks into the bedroom, and she smirks as his eyes grow dark and heated. No matter how many times she sees her like this, he acts perfectly seduced. “Kate’s here,” he says, putting the call on speaker.

“Hi, Kate!”

“Hey, Shannon.” Shannon is one of her favorite clients. In her mid-thirties, disappointed by dating, but with a great imagination and always willing to try new things. Climbing onto the bed, Kate straddles Anthony’s lap, already feeling the swell of his cock against her thigh. “What are we doing today?”

“Shannon has a threesome fantasy,” Anthony explains. “She wants to act it out with us.”

“Good choice,” Kate says, voice sultry, getting into character. On top of wanting to help her fellow women, there’s no denying that it makes sex with Anthony even more explosive. She loves the fantasy of it, the role playing and the voyeurism. “Do you want us to start? Or do you have something in mind?”

Shannon hesitates for a moment, and Kate remembers what that feels like, too. Struggling to express her desires freely, or even find the words for them. “I want you to go down on him while I sit on his face.”

“Okay, baby.” She unbuttons his trousers, shoving them down with his boxers and taking him in her hand. “He’s so hard for us.”

“Oh, fuck,” Anthony groans as she stretches her lips around him and slides down. Kate plays up the sloppy sounds of her blowjob for their other participant, fondling his balls with her hand, moaning loudly at the weight of him on her tongue. Distantly, she hears Anthony’s litany of filthy words. You’re so wet, honey. Taste so good. I know you need me, I know, just let me suck this pretty little clit and everything will be okay. Just fill you up with my fingers, can you hear Kate sucking me off? She looks so beautiful with her lips around a cock. Want you to come all over my face, come on baby, you can do it.

Kate sinks lower, letting Anthony slip into her throat, and he lets out a filthy noise in response. Shannon is whimpering, clearly on the edge, and she comes vocally to the sound of Kate eagerly choking on Anthony’s cock.

“Good girl,” Anthony soothes as Kate pulls off, taking a long sip of water to calm her raw throat. “What do you want now? Do you want my cock?”

Shannon sounds wrecked already, trying to catch her breath. “I want to hear Kate fuck you. But you can’t come until I do.”

Kate smiles wickedly. There’s a reason she likes this woman.

Straddling his lap again, Kate lowers herself down on him, moaning at the stretch even though she’s dripping wet. Leveraging herself against his chest, she starts to ride Anthony hard, bouncing on his cock as rough noises fall from her throat.

He’s already pulsing inside her, looking pained with the effort of holding back, but Shannon’s cries get sharper and Kate knows they’re all hovering at the edge of something intense.

“Anthony,” Kate whimpers, squeezing around him until he groans, long and lewd. “Be a good boy and make us come, sweetheart.”

Dropping his fingers to her clit, Anthony starts to fuck up into her with hard strokes, gritting his teeth against the tension. Kate meets each slam of his hips, keening his name as the orgasm overwhelms her. Her climax shoves Shannon over the cliff, a small scream leaving her lips.

“Now you,” she tells Anthony, running her thumb over his lip. “Want your come, want you to fill me up, come on baby-.”

His moan is filthily erotic as he erupts inside her, warmth filling her cunt and leaking back down over his shaft.

“He came so hard,” Kate says, smiling benevolently down at him as he slumps against the mattress, worn out. “It’s dripping down my thighs.”

Shannon sighs, sounding thoroughly satisfied. “Fuck, you guys are so hot.”

“It’s better with you,” she insists, picking up the phone so she can speak into the receiver. “You good for tonight, honey?”

“Very good. Next week?”

“Next week,” Kate agrees. “Good night.”

“Good night!” Anthony says from below her.

“G’night,” Shannon responds, already half asleep by the sound of it, and hangs up.

Delicately lifting off of him, Kate collapses onto the bed, huffing a laugh. “You’re a natural at this,” Anthony says, a soft, proud grin on his face.

“I like it,” she admits, honestly, rolling onto her side to place her head on his chest. “One of the many, many reasons I’m so glad I met you.”

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

like im just saying they should invent a family that doesn't make you want to kill yourself

[sschmendrick]

Sometimes I truly feel really dumb seeing all the people here and on the internet on general make amazing analysis of characters, of events, of parallels in books, movies, songs and whatnot. I feel very poor mentally when all I can see is cool images, amazing stories, and the best songs I get to listen to. I feel like I'm missing on so much, and always beein fed the analysis by other people because I just cannot do it on my own can be very tiring and sink the self-esteem. Especially as someone who's gonna end up working with artists I feel so out of place, like I shouldn't be there talking to them since I do not have the right tool to understand them.

What I hate most of all is that even the stuff that I adore I cannot dig into in a proper way. It's all feelings and it's not good enough.

[girlyliondragon]

Real talk the thing about making extremely complicated/complex and flawed characters (especially those greatly based off yourself to the point they're your self-created comfort character) that you've grown to be extremely proud of thinking of their stories, is that you also know that there are people out there that will absolutely villainize the fuck out of them or try to 'reason' that they are completely irredeemable even in instances where they have no control over their life and act accordingly or even are pushed into situations where they didn't want to be to begin with or are even trying to be better than they were before even when they have gone through and still go through moments of relapse like any troubled character would in an attempt to make them feel real and it actually really fucking scares me.

I can't give details, but it's like. It's obvious they, the character, aren't a good person, not as a whole anyways and aren't meant to be, in fact said character sees themselves as the worst to exist because in their eyes they deserve every bit of punishment after everything they've done because they are forced to be stuck in the past and mask themselves unhealthily due to repeated mistakes and not wanting to do them again despite making achievements to move on and be happy and despite some telling them that they're doing a good job despite everything and that they deserve to be happy and meaning it rather than trying to placate them, it's obviously up for people to decide their own perception OF that OC from what they read of their story bits to decide whether they like the character based on what they read of them or not, because flaws and shit like this is very compelling to many, myself included.

But at the same time I'm super nervous about the idea of expanding on said character and showing their maladaptive coping mechanisms and behaviors and bad moments alongside their good moments because a lot of people on the internet, especially the very loud ones have no fucking concept of the varying shades of grey morality in the slightest. Even in cases where they are in fandoms with characters with many different forms of grey morality, like it terrifies me that someone could potentially misread everything and ruin my desire to make this OC I'm vagueing about want to not only move on and be better, even if they have to start from the bottom again sometimes, but redeem and even forgive themselves in their own eyes in the process and start anew, just because people have a black/white mentality that they force onto at the expense of others doing so. It really ruins character exploration and growth.