#Cash ur drive

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

and if i see another fic tagged incorrectly ON. PURPOSE. im gonna fucking lose my mind.

[mrs-bluemarine]

Mu new GIRLFREND @amalthea-wolfwood made for me 💞 it's name is Cassiopeia she's a princess trapped in space and she sleeps on interstellar cloud jellyfish

I think she'd sound like Princess Peach

[devilmass]

roddy wouldn't be the cadillac preacher without a caddy 👏 inside the trunk is an alter for the virgin mary and storage for his host kit. it's a little rustier than these pictures, but the overall vibe is the same.

[softbutchthatlovesyou]

Hey as a poc stfu and stop calling their voices if you arent. Those poc have the ability to not touch the site because the site of fanfic CANOT. HURT THEM. They don't have yo even open the damn site or give it money or nothing!!

Fanfic which according to anti a03 people is soooooo insignificant and bad, but you all raise fanfics to the idea that theyre part of oppression. and if a fanfics enough to opress you, you dont have real fuckin problems.

i have run into vile and racist descriptions and you know what I do? I move away from it. Bc not everything that I don't like or that's distasteful need me personally to go on a bregade to tear it down. But also with a03s filtration system being so detailed It doesn't actually happen that often if I fucking use it.

i love ao3 donation season bcs every year I get to see people acting like thousands of strangers giving like 10 usd to a volunteer run website are personally oppressing them

[29121996]

.

[absdoll]

drug dealer! ellie!! reader’s brother is a usual customer of hers but he’s busy or whatever so he asks reader to go pick it up 😈🤭

cw: car sex ♡ , kinda player!ellie , mentions of weed & smoking it , strap sucking (e!rev) , strap sitting (r!rec) <3 that’s it !

also songs are linked throughout this , just to add to the dealer!ellie hot car sex ambiance hehe ♡

“dude, can you stop being such a fucking baby and just go?!” your brother hisses at you, frantically packing for his soccer match. “if i get home from this game and i don’t have anything to smoke, i’m beating your ass.” he rolls his eyes as he walks out of the door, “i’ll text you her address and let her know you’re coming, don’t fuck this up.”

ellie. ellie williams. ellie auburnettetattedsofuckinghot williams. the scrawny masc you’ve had a crush on since junior year of high school. you’ve maybe said 5 words to each other, in passing when she glares at you with her hazel eyes, making you squeeze your thighs together. “sup?” she’ll nonchalantly throw at you, not knowing you go home and ride your fingers to the sound of her voice.

your phone buzzes as you’re about to get in your car, an unknown number.

8:29pm “yooo, u on the way? i got somewhere to be”

“ohmyfuckinggod” you mutter under your breath. you manically type a response, not even thinking before pressing send.

8:31pm “yeah! be there soon sorry!”

8:34pm “all good cutie”

the butterflies in your stomach are swarming. as if you weren’t already nervous to face your going on 4 year crush, she just … flirted..? with you? it’ll be a miracle if you even survive the drive over there.

you pull up to an apartment complex, the 3rd floor balcony lit up with purple LED lights. your phone buzzes again.

8:59pm “this u?”

you look back up to the balcony, now seeing a lanky figure in a black tank top, grey sweatpants, batman socks, and a black beanie leaning over the railing. she nods her head up at you, and you can just hear her silky smooth voice saying “sup?”, but this time you can’t relieve the pressure between your legs.

9:00pm “do i come up there or??”

it’s been 5 minutes since you sent that text.

before you know it, there’s a subtle knock on ur passenger window. it’s dark outside, no streetlights in the parking lot, but you knew it was ellie. you unlock the door, and she dips her head in, slouching down into the seat next to you.

ellie smirks, eyeing you up and down, noticing the way your thighs erupt in goosebumps at her stare. you’re wearing black denim shorts and a black tube top, ellie’s eyes immediately falling to your collarbones.

“it’s $35” she says in a low tone, handing you a sealed ziploc bag.

your fingertips touch her hand as you grab it from her, causing you to choke on your words, “c-cool, thanks” you smile at her, feeling like your nerves are gonna make you pass out at any second.

ellie’s so calm and collected, watching you nervously fumble with your wallet trying to retrieve the cash your brother gave you. and god, she smells so good. her scent is intoxicating. vanilla mixed with musk and sugar and leather.

all of a sudden you feel her hand fall on your thigh. “nervous or something?” she teases. she grabs at the jelly flesh with one hand and pulls a joint out of her pocket with her right hand. you audibly let a big sigh fall from your mouth when her hand leaves to light her joint. ellie passes the burning paper to you, and you don’t smoke so you’re just holding it, contemplating to make yourself look cool by taking a puff. she’s adjusting her sweatpants — and that’s when you notice it. the thick bulge outlined in her pants, her eyes fluttering up to yours.

“wanna sit on it?” she chuckles, grabbing the joint from your hand. you can’t tell if she’s serious or not, so you just giggle back.

“open up.” ellie takes a long drag, yellowish smoke filling her mouth.

you’re confused, but in an effort to not embarrass yourself, you open your mouth. ellie’s face now inches away from yours, her eyes staring deep into your nervous gaze. she blows the thick smoke into your mouth, “inhale.” she whispers.

within a minute, your nerves have subsided and you feel lighter. ellie watches as you shift in your seat, putting your hands under your thighs. “are you cold? i’m cold. do you care if i turn the a/c off?” you ramble at ellie. she smirks, “first time smoking?”

you roll your eyes at her, the car quieter now without the buzz of the air conditioning. “you ever heard of a hotbox?” ellie says, shifting her body towards you. you shake your head ‘no’ and ellie just giggles. “c’mere” she motions for you to sit on her lap.

“w-what? why?” you spit out, embarrassed immediately.

“your eyes haven’t left my crotch since you noticed my cock that’s tucked in my pants. if you want it, jus’ c’mere.” she hits the joint again, blowing smoke towards your face.

she adjusts her seat, making room by her feet for you sit on the floor. you’re on your knees, looking up at her with reddened eyes.

“go ‘head, take it out” she lowly mutters to you, not even looking at you, she’s preoccupied by trying to connect her bluetooth to your car speaker.

your shaky hands move to the band of her sweatpants, sliding them down just enough for her purple, curved, silicone strap to plop out onto her lap.

her eyes dart to yours, grinning at the look of amazement on your face.

ellie uses one hand to wrap around the back of your neck, guiding your head closer to her crotch, the other hand twisting the volume nozzle up, speakers blaring. “open your mouth angel” she breathes out. as your lips part, she swipes her thumb across your bottom pout, slipping the tip of her cock towards the back of your throat. her hand moves up to grab a fistful of your hair, “gooooood, good job baby” she praises.

as ellie bobs your head up and down, you start moaning around her girth. “mmm you like this baby? like my cock deep in your throat? dirty girl.” you nod up at her, causing her to throw her head back.

ellie’s one hand atop your head, other hand typing on her dimly lit phone screen. “gotta make this quick, told you i had somewhere to be.” she throws her phone into the backseat, moving both hands to the back of your neck. her thrusts are quick and steady, grunts falling from her chapped lips.

“mm fuck, you’re drooling b-baby” she half chuckles and half stutters, the base of her strap striking her clit. “uuuuuhhh fuuuuuck” she breathes out.

“f-fuck, get on top.” ellie grabs you by your hair, hands moving to your hips, setting you down slowly on her long, wet member.

“o-ooh s-shit-uuhhhh” you moan out, the feeling of her thickness sliding deep inside you. her hands still groping your ass, slamming you up and down on her length. “bounce on it baby.” she grunts out as she pulls your tube top down, revealing your fatty tits.

ellie moves her hands to behind her head. watching as your boobs slap against your chest. your moans barely audible as the rap song fills the car, “lemme hear you, l-louder” she’s doing little to no work, her hips every once and awhile bucking up into you, which causes you to yelp and ellie lets out a chuckle.

“mm-ahh ellieeeeuuhhggh” “f-feels s’fucking gooduuuhhh” you’re practically screaming at this point, ellie’s eyes filled with darkness and lust, just watching as you fuck yourself on her cock.

your legs start to shake, inner thighs sore from relentlessly pounding your pussy on ellie’s strap. “need help baby?” ellie wraps her arms around your waist, lifting her hips up. she stops her movements, grinning as you whine from sudden lack of friction.

ellie stuffs her cock deep inside you, watching her girth move in and out of you, agonizingly slow. “m-more ellie p-please” you’re whining and she takes it as her cue to vigorously thrust up into you.

“ommm-mm-g-go-god-dduuuhhh” with every slam of ellie’s hips, your moans get louder.

you start cumming all over ellie’s cock, her dark red bush covered in your slick.

your high is dizzying, you open your eyes in a tired, fucked out state to see ellie, again, typing a text on her phone.

she pats your ass, “that was hot baby, but i gotta go.” as you slide yourself off her lap, falling into your seat and pulling your shorts back up, ellie goes to open the car door. “tell your brother you’ll pick up for him more often.” she tuts with a grin.

you feel your whole face start to burn as she slams the door and walks away.

did that just happen?

a/n : hi hi ♡ i’m well aware this isn’t the best , i’ve mentioned i’m struggling to write lately & it shows ! i’m proud of the concept & whatnot , just bad writing gdjdhjsjs . anyways i need to bounce on ellie’s strap rn u don’t understand .

🌙 @whore4abby @enbesbians @hersweetheart 🌙

[almostempty]

too good to be true (frankie x f!reader)

Too good to be true (frankie morales x f!reader) | wc: 9k | other fics  | Ao3

summary: frankie, a regular at your coffee shop, is there for you when your boyfriend joel breaks up with you and disappears practically overnight. despite not knowing each other long, frankie just seems to be perfect for you and you fall hard and fast 

note: this was supposed to be for the accidental adultery trope for @auteurdelabre 's trope challenge from last month. i thought accidental adultery was more like the wrong bed trope so--you can find that here with Dieter's party, but it turns out accidental adultery is more like ..when you thought ur lover died in the war or something and you start a new life with someone else and then they show up again. that didn’t interest me- soooo (spoiler) in my version reader doesn’t know that joel only left her bc of frankie 

warnings/tags: mdni explicit, smut, dark!frankie, stalker!frankie, dubcon, lies, deceit, coffee shop au gone wrong, accidental adultery, ex bf Joel, abandonment issues, anxiety, breakup grief, using sex to avoid processing emotions, face fucking, masturbation, crying, love bombing aka emotional manipulation/abuse, frankie doesn’t have a job bc he nefariously acquired a large cash settlement from his return trip to the jungle– or maybe he has a military pension idk don’t ask questions, revenge porn, jealousy, delusional reader, jealous and possessive frankie, if i missed something important pls let me know, 

standard weds warnings: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction so it’s free to imagine it raw; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise, no specific descriptions; no y/n, likely many mistakes and i accept that 🫡

You don’t remember the first time you met, but you remember when you started looking forward to seeing Frankie. He was a quiet regular, didn’t ask for much, but was always polite. Kind. He’d come by at the same time, get the same coffee, and sit at a table in the lobby reading the news on his phone. Most mornings, you were busy enough that you didn’t even think about starting a conversation, but you’d sneak a glance here and there as he sat. Sometimes, he caught you, and you’d both flash a quick smile. 

He was a fun little fantasy to look forward to. You weren’t single or looking anyway, but it didn’t hurt to have something to help you crawl out of bed at 3:30 AM. It was always quiet until just after 6 AM, when the commuters started coming through. Frankie usually came through the lobby just as the morning rush was picking up, curls still damp from his post-workout shower and a soft smile just for you. 

Until it changed. He started showing up even earlier. That’s when you began to get to know him bit by bit. In the quiet dark of the early mornings, while the espresso machines warmed up and the 

You learned that he moved into town this year–not in this neighborhood, but he likes the coffee here, so it’s worth the morning drive. He’s single. Ex-military. Sticks to a routine. Likes your name. Remembers details. Asks follow-up questions about your weekend plans on Monday mornings. 

Did you and your boyfriend see that movie you were thinking about? Did you get to sleep in like you’d hoped? Did he take you to the farmer’s market? Did he like the recipe you wanted to try out? 

It was sweet. And infuriating. Someone you barely knew always remembered your plans or the little throwaway comments you’d make. You knew it wasn’t intentional, but it always stung when he’d ask about your plans, and you were left coming up with excuses for why they never seemed to happen. You carried the discomfort home with you until it spilled over into your relationship. 

And, thanks to Frankie really, it forced you to talk about it. Your boyfriend, Joel, had been drifting away. Complacent and avoidant. He’d been staying late at work, canceling on your weekend plans, always too tired to fuck, generally just a bad-tempered brick wall rather than a boyfriend. But after a serious conversation and some threats you hoped you wouldn’t have to follow through on, he’d agreed to make changes. 

It was working, too. You made date nights a priority. You sent flirty texts during the day–even if neither of you had time to respond right away. 

When he had long days during the week, you’d give him a back massage. You’d sit straddling his ass, rubbing down his shoulder blades, kneading circles with your thumbs, and savoring the view of his broad back and the warmth of his body under yours. You would pull the stress and tension away from his neck and spine, eliciting low groans of pleasure from Joel that would stir up the heat pooling in your core. You’d keep it up until you lulled him to sleep–or on your favorite nights–he’d flip over underneath you and watch you ride him until you were both slick with sweat, panting, and needing another quick shower before succumbing to sleep. 

It’s those tender moments that make it hurt that much more now. 

To think he could just throw you away like this. That he didn’t think you were worth the face-to-face conversation. Worth the closure. Just leaving you a fucking note, like you were a business transaction. Here’s your memo letting you know he no longer requires your services. 

Fucking coward. 

You re-read the letter for the thousandth time. It’s real, and you aren’t insane. You shove it back into your apron pocket. It’s your token. A reminder that this hell is your reality. 

You slip back to the front counter, plastering on your best customer service smile. 

But of course, it’s fucking Frankie. The concern is written across his face before he even gets to the counter. Are you that easy to read? You’re never going to make it through your shift. 

“You doing okay?” he asks softly as if he might spook you. Stupid big brown eyes. Just like Joel’s. They make you weak. You can’t be weak. You try to shift into a more defensive mode–chest forward, shoulders back. 

“Why? Do I look like shit today?” 

“No, never,” he tries to reassure you. Always so sweet to you. 

“Sorry, I just mean, I wouldn’t be surprised. I feel like shit.” You grumble as you grab his drip coffee and set it on the counter between the two of you. 

“I take it he’s still gone then?” 

You can only nod back in agreement. Can’t even look Frankie in the eyes; you just linger on his mouth and scruffy jaw where it seems safer to stare. Until his mouth shifts into a sympathetic frown. 

“You deserve better, you know,” he says like it’s a confession. Only meant for you and his coffee to hear. 

“Sure,” you sigh. Maybe he’s right. You deserve someone that can look you in the eye when they break up with you. Explain in more than a few sentences why they’d block you and disappear like a fucking ghost. Maybe you never really knew Joel at all if he could do this to you. 

You can feel your eyes welling up again, your face is still swollen from crying all night, and you’re sick of the emotional whiplash. Did you miss the signs the whole time? Was it something you did? Will you ever know? The cafe starts to blur as your heart rate increases. 

“Hey,” Frankie murmurs, “breathe.” It’s soft, but the timbre of his voice draws your attention. You focus on inhaling and exhaling, willing away the sobs. Just as you steady, they almost start all over again when you think about how pathetic you must seem to him. Standing at the register, sucking in shaky breath, and trying not to have a complete breakdown. 

But Frankie assures you he doesn’t think you’re pathetic. And somehow, you get through the morning. And the next. Day by day, you crawl through the week against everything inside of you that wants to scream and hide in bed for a month. By the end of the week, the only thought that gets you through the opening routine is that it’s your last shift before the weekend. 

There’s no way you could survive another shift just going through the motions like an undead barista. You know you’re on the edge, fragile and raw. You can just get through today and then spend the weekend locked in your bed wallowing, ugly crying, binge eating, anything. 

Your flimsy resistance almost crumbles when Frankie shows up with flowers for you. It’s too sweet. He seems so concerned. He claims he wanted you to have something to help cheer you up over the weekend. 

His thoughtful gesture is overwhelming. Having someone care about you, think of you, worry about you? And worse, to know that it could be so easy for someone to show you they care. 

To know that you aren’t hard to love. 

He notices the way your eyes shine, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. He apologizes, “If it’s too much, you don’t have to take them. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I definitely didn’t want to make you cry.” 

You assure him they’re lovely and that you appreciate the gesture. You give him your warmest smile through your misty eyes. And you take the flowers home. 

You stare at them all weekend. 

Your favorite flowers. How did he know? They make you think of Frankie all weekend. His smile, how reliable he is with his routine, his thoughtfulness, how kind he is to you. 

The qualities you thought you had found in Joel. 

You let yourself embrace your agony for the weekend. Determined to make it through at least the first stage of grief. As if you can allot a number of hours to it and just check it off your list. 

A part of you admits that there’s something comforting about knowing you’ll see Frankie again Monday morning. That someone will check in on you. 

And he does. 

Reliable as ever, he shows up in the dark cover of the early morning. You greet each other with your deep morning voices, and there’s something about the fact that you’re the first person you both speak to every morning that draws a genuine smile from you. 

You keep going to work. Frankie keeps showing up. The world keeps turning.

Days pass and you can start to fall asleep without having to exhaust yourself completely. Some of the weight on your chest sloughs off when your ribs shake with laughter at Frankie’s jokes. His charm brightens your dark days. 

One afternoon, as you’re dropping an armful of grocery bags onto the counter, you notice the flowers he gave you. They’re starting to wilt. You hesitate to toss them for some reason. Convinced they’ve got another day in them, at least. 

You sweep up the fallen petals and pollen, spinning the vase to find the best angle left. The flowers may be fading, but Frankie is beginning to occupy a permanent residence in your mind. You find yourself keeping mental notes of things you want to share with him the next morning. A joke about a show you both keep up with, something you saw on your walk home, a question you forgot to ask the day before because you were distracted. 

Distracted by things that don’t sound like they could possibly be distracting. Like the curve of his bottom lip or the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Or worse, the way he smiles so wide you can see his dimples when you double down on an argument about a movie, TV show, or the best takeout on this side of town. 

The next morning he has fresh flowers for you. It’s as if he knew you were hesitating to get rid of them, to lose the physical evidence. You squint at him with a playful accusation of how did you know they were on their last legs? He reasons it’s been a week already. A week. It feels like it’s only been a day, and at the same time, it feels like a whole month has passed. 

It helps. 

The following week is much of the same. Morning chats with Frankie. Busy shifts with rushes and endless cleaning tasks. Running errands, trying to keep in touch with friends, trying to keep yourself too busy and distracted to fall back into the sharp pain of loss. Of coming home to an empty apartment. Of waking up alone. Of the way Joel erased himself so completely from your life, you have to find tangible reminders that he was ever real. 

You loosen your grip on the hope that Joel might show up with an apology or even respond to the text you had sent. He can’t even hear you out or answer a single question? You give up altogether on the idea that the whole thing might have been some confusing mistake.

There’s still a hole rotting in your heart, but if you stay busy enough, you can ignore it. Mostly. 

You stick to your plan, steadfast that time will heal your wounds. Days pass, and you find yourself once again asking Frankie what he has planned for the day. But this time, he hesitates. 

Frankie tells you he’ll be out of town for a few days. You aren’t sure why, but it feels like he jammed his fingers into that hole in your heart when he tells you. Don’t abandon me. Please. 

He must see right through you. 

“Here,” he says, holding out his hand. “I know it’s only a few days, but I was thinking I don’t want to miss out on your remarkably accurate reality TV predictions. You take the napkin with his number written on it. How old-fashioned. It makes your heart flutter. “Keep me updated.” 

You swallow the butterflies and turn the energy into a smirk. “You’re so going to regret this,” you tease. 

You feel lit from within, glowing and floaty for the rest of your shift. Getting the hot regular’s number gives you a rush. It’s not like he asked you on a date or anything, but still, it feels good to have someone want to keep talking to you. 

Until you clock out and immediately start spiraling. Should you text him now just to give him your number? Wish him a safe trip? Play it cool and wait until tomorrow morning? Or maybe he’s busy in the morning? Shit. You never even asked what his trip was for. 

……

It’s early afternoon when Frankie’s phone buzzes. Your shift must have just ended. 

You: it’s me!

You: figured it’s only fair you get my number now, too 

Frankie: Hey you :) 

You: hey :) 

You: i hope the trip goes well 

Frankie: Thanks, it’ll be better now. 

You: how come? 

He underestimated you. He thought he wouldn’t hear from you until tomorrow. Thought it would take longer. 

Frankie: Well, I just got this pretty girl’s number. Now I’ve got her updates to look forward to. 

He shakes his head to himself, pocketing his phone and stretching out on his sofa. 

Maybe he didn’t need the ruse of being out of town at all. You don’t need the absence to suck you in any deeper; you’re moving on faster than he thought. Good. 

He sprawls out across the couch like a lazy dog in the sun, TV on mute, still fully dressed. He drags his eyes over the bare walls of his apartment. He’s going to need the next few days to make the place seem a little more welcoming. More like a place you’d be happy to wake up in. 

He checks the notes hidden in his phone of places you shop, your favorite color, the way your apartment is decorated. He already knows what you want. What you need. With that thought, he drifts off, satisfied, into a long nap. 

He doesn’t wake until his evening alarm goes off, checking his phone to see what reality show you’re going to be glued to tonight. MILF manor. Who comes up with these? He rolls his eyes, stretching, yawning, and traipsing across his apartment to find some cold pizza in the fridge. 

Holding one slice between his teeth and the other in one hand, he debates whether he should take a drive through your neighborhood or stay in for the night. His phone buzzes again, and he figures it’s a sign. He drops his pants near the hallway and scarfs his cold dinner as he settles back in the living room, unmuting the show and opening your messages. 

You’re funny. 

Sending quick-witted observations and callbacks. 

You force him to pay attention. You’re sharp. If he doesn’t watch, you’ll know. You always call him out for missing the nuance. You challenge that he could predict the next winner if he paid closer attention. 

When you get frustrated with him and huff about how he missed something completely obvious, he memorizes your expressions. The fire in your eyes when you’re passionate. You feel so deeply and express your emotions so freely. 

He likes that about you. Funny. Smart. Bold. Passionate. Sexy.

Perfect. 

He lets his mind wander as he leans back. The room glows from the light of the TV, flashing brighter and dimmer. The look on your face when he said he’d be gone for a few days pops into his mind, how your eyes flashed wide and the soft pout that tugged at your bottom lip. 

You need him. It’s so clear. And you’re so perfect. 

The show is just noise. Static. 

He closes out of your messages. Opening up his photos. Scrolling through pictures of you. Some from social media, and some taken while you were working and unaware. 

Perfect. 

His eyes fall shut as he tips his head back, relaxed and comfortable as he sinks deeper into the cushion. 

“Perfect lips, perfect mouth,” he mutters to himself as he sets the phone aside altogether. 

It’s a simple but effective scene that plays out in his mind. A go-to fantasy since the day he first laid eyes on you. 

He wedges his boxers down just far enough to free his half-hard cock. He tries to start slow, with languid strokes as he imagines the heat of your mouth sucking him deeper. The sight of you looking up at him with your lips stretched around him. 

“Just perfect,” he groans to himself. He can’t hold back his urgency at the thought of you, quickly amping up the speed of his wrist and the strength of his grip. It’s minutes, or maybe seconds before his muscles are tensing and jerking as he comes to the thought of you. 

It eases the tension, but he still needs you. Soon. 

……

The rest of your week passes quickly. 

Your head is in the clouds over your new texting buddy. You check your phone on all your breaks but send yourself into another spiral, trying to work out the balance between enthusiastic but not needy. Responding quickly, but not being too much. You don’t want to come off as crazy.

It fully absorbs your attention. The excitement and the anxiety. The rush when you get a new message and the anguish over every word you type. Rereading your messages until you get a response. Worrying yourself over your silly jokes and banter. But when he responds, it’s addictive. You’re smitten when he matches your energy or sends a flirty quip. 

It makes you smile so hard your cheeks burn. You get distracted taking orders. It’s all-consuming. 

………

Frankie keeps tabs on you the rest of the week. When you walk home from work, when you run errands, when you’re out with your friends. He picks up things for his apartment while you’re at work. At night, he drives down your block. He watches you watching TV. Until dark, then you diligently shut your curtains just as the last dregs of the sunset disappear. 

Tonight, he lingers, still parked across the street from your apartment building. He sends another text, and his eyes flick to your curtains like you might open them back up just for him. You’re such a good girl for that, though–not letting anyone else watch. 

Frankie: I’m back tomorrow. You have weekend plans? 

You: that’s great! no plans for me

Frankie: You want to watch tomorrow’s episode together? 

You: that would be fun! 

Frankie: Perfect :) 

………

You don’t know why you offered to host. You feel like your place has been a mess. Since Joel left, you’ve been letting your depression piles calcify. You shove your laundry into the washer, toss your unopened mail into a drawer, and do your best to make it look like you’re a fully functioning adult. 

Something about having Frankie over has you feeling pent up. 

You’re nervous. Excited. And you’re still unregulated and exhausted from the emotional devastation of Joel disappearing on you. You’ve been letting yourself sink into the distraction of making a new friend. A hot, new friend. But as helpful as the distraction is, you still haven’t really processed the pain. 

Maybe it’s too soon to let yourself think about Frankie all the time. Maybe you need to really feel your misery and figure out what you missed. What you did wrong. No, even your body rejects that idea, sending a shiver of anxiety through you. 

Fuck it. 

You’re both single adults. There’s no rulebook that says you can’t entertain a new crush. So what’s the harm? You’re hoping that seeing Frankie in person will help you get clarity on the flirty vibe of his texts. Are they truly flirty, or are you just delusional? 

You do your best to find a casual “just watching trash TV” type of outfit after your everything shower. You bought enough snacks to feed a high school football team, you know, just in case. You flutter around your space, hastily cleaning anything else you can think of, worried about details that only an evil in-law would scrutinize you for. 

Despite your frenzy and feeling on edge all afternoon, the concern all seems to vanish when Frankie shows up at your door. You welcome him in and swoon a little over the fresh flowers he brought you. You still have some nerves that don’t relent, but they’re the smiley, giggly, butterfly type of nerves now. 

As you get settled, it all feels surprisingly easy. 

You make each other laugh. You offer your insane spread of snacks, and he settles next to you on your sofa before the episode starts. He appreciates all of your commentary and banters with you over your strongest opinions. It feels surprisingly natural to be spending time together like this. Without an espresso machine between you. 

You’re taken with his presence. He balances you. Even when he debates your controversial takes and unpopular opinions, he doesn’t get worked up like you. 

His calm demeanor is grounding. His nearness and steadiness relaxes you.  

The stress let down makes your head feel heavy, and without thinking, you rest your temple against Frankie’s shoulder with a deep sigh. It feels comforting until you realize how forward you’re being and snap your head back up. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you blurt out, scooting away. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, voice soft and low. 

He’s staring at you so intently. You feel the heat in your face, embarrassed at acting so comfortable with him and self-conscious under his gaze. You still don’t really know what he wants. And you don’t want to fuck anything up. But he doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, you swear his eyes drop to your mouth before they flick back up. 

“More than okay,” he adds, and your stomach flips at his honesty. “Here,” he shifts and invites you to scoot under his arm. You get comfortable, resting your head on his chest. 

You try to watch the TV, but you can feel Frankie watching you. It makes you restless and unable to think clearly. You peer up at him. It’s a charged look; maybe it was already obvious, but you hadn’t felt confident enough to put the pieces together until now. 

“What?” You whisper, unable to fight the smile pulling at your mouth. 

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs. 

Uh oh. Your breath hitches, and something in you cracks. A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you try to hide it, whispering thanks into his chest and looking down. 

“Hey,” he tilts your chin to look up at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to will away the emotions that bubble up inside of you. “That’s really sweet of you.” You steady your breathing, slower and deeper. What is wrong with you? You expected something flirty. You didn’t expect something so.. heartfelt?

The more you slow your breathing, the more it feels like you’re inhaling the essence of Frankie. Whatever combination of laundry detergent, deodorant, body wash, whatever it is is all combined it’s soothing. Nice. It calms you. 

But why? How does just breathing against him make you feel safe? 

You can’t even think about safety. You can’t count on anyone else. What if he leaves out of nowhere, too? Your thoughts pick up, racing. Falling deeper into your anxieties. You aren’t even on a date; you shouldn’t be worried about this guy abandoning you. 

Your fears eat at you, worsening your fragile state. Your body shakes gently as you try to breathe through the anxiety. 

Frankie runs his hand along your back. He’s so warm, solid, and strong. 

You feel like you must seem insane, which makes your emotional flooding worse. He just keeps murmuring at you about how you’re okay, and he pulls you into his arms to give you a firm hug, regulating you. Fixing you. 

When you lean back to apologize for crying on him, he shakes his head in disagreement. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says it like he means it, like he won’t be taking questions or arguments. You sniffle as you do your best to accept that. “You still look beautiful,” he says, pulling you back towards him. 

It’s everything you didn’t know you needed to hear. Your face nestles against his neck. Delirious with your state of mind and his flattery and reassurance. You can’t stop yourself from kissing his neck. The exact spot you’ve been so distracted by on so many mornings. His skin is soft and warm; you can taste your tears, wet and salty on your lips. You do it again before you freeze. What are you doing? 

Frankie’s hand slips up the back of your neck, cradling your head in his warm palm. It feels like encouragement. You test your theory, pressing another gentle kiss to his jaw where his scruffy beard tickles your nose. 

The TV might still be on, but all you can hear is your breathing and his. The sound of your lips against his skin. And the low-pitched noise in Frankie’s throat that urges you on. Provoking a needful fire within you. Intense and frantic. You nip at his ear before stamping open-mouthed kisses back down his neck, pulling back only to breathe hot and humid against his skin. 

You hesitate, a frenzied desire has you wanting to straddle his lap and take more and more, but something makes you pause. Frankie knows. He feels your weight shifting and makes the move for you, pulling you onto his lap. 

“I know,” he says as his large hands wrap around both sides of your jaw. “Keep going.” The encouragement pours over you like warm honey. Face to face, you wrap your arms around his neck. The last thread of your doubt snaps and you close the gap. Pressing your lips together. Softly for a second, before your mouths are parting and your tongues and teeth work fervently to express your desire. 

Then it becomes a desperate blur, your fingers curling into his hair, tugging until he’s groaning into your mouth. His hands slipping under your shirt, hot against your skin, snaking back down to knead the curve of your ass while you roll your hips, grinding into his lap in search of friction. 

You feel him hardening beneath you and a molten hot thrill radiates between your legs. There’s a raw quality to your movements as you bite at his lip, scratch at his shoulders, and whine with a frustrated edge. 

You’re taking out all your emotional distress on him. Or, rather, you’re begging him to erase it all, to bite back harder, to use force, to dominate. You keep trying to use your body instead of words. Just teeth, nails, and needy writhing. Anything sharp, forceful, rough. An offering. 

Tears still roll down your cheeks, hot with anger, anguish, and everything you can’t name. You aren’t interested in exploring your emotions. You need something more visceral. 

You sit back, hands shooting towards Frankie’s belt, chasing more, when he stops you in your tracks. His hand possessively grips below your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

Your cunt throbs at the look on his face. The soft, gentle Frankie is gone. His face is hard and dangerous as he studies you. For some reason that makes you want him even more. 

His fingers dig into your cheek eliciting a sharp inhale from you, parting your lips into a small “o” shape, before he releases you. You know you’re a mess. Teary, panting, wild-eyed–but his lips curl into sinful grin. Reflexively you tilt your pelvis, drawing the heat of your core along the ridge of his erection. Your eyes flutter shut, as you aim to forget yourself and focus on the sensation. 

But his chest shakes, jostling you in his lap, with his rumbly, dark chuckle. It’s condescending, startling you and stilling your hips. You blink at Frankie. The charged air is thick. The rest of the room has faded. Your brows furrow as you wonder, but your thighs tense. 

“Keep going.” 

It’s a demand this time, not an affirmation or encourager. His sinister smirk is gone, replaced by a frighteningly blank stare. His carnivorous eyes drop, watching your fingers as you work open his belt and jeans. 

Shit. You can tell he’s big as you trace your fingers along his cock, over his boxers, savoring the heat in your palm. The damp fabric at the tip pleases you, and you peel the waistband down to reveal the glorious vision that has you wetting your lips. 

“Shit,” you repeat out loud this time. A primal, hungry need possesses you as you admire his cock. The glistening head, thick shaft, and dark patch of curls at the base. Just the sight of him is intoxicatingly masculine and dominant. 

You need him in your mouth. 

You slink off his lap, sinking to your knees between his legs. Excitement flutters in your pussy and you feel like you’ve fallen into a into a trance. Your body moves faster than your mind, tugging at his jeans as he repositions at the edge of the couch. 

“I know,” he mutters under his breath as you wrap your hand around the smooth skin. “I know what you need,” he continues. You can only hum in response. Preoccupied by the slip of your thumb dragging a trail of precome down along the underside of his cock. 

He cups the back of your head, urging you towards his tip with a commanding open growled down at you. You want to pout for not getting the chance to tease and savor the moment, but you don’t have the time when he slides past your lips and hits the back of your throat. 

You choke, sputtering around him and pulling back. His hand encourages you to try again and you’re eager to take it like he gives it. Refocusing on controlling your breath, you look up to see the fierceness in his eyes on his otherwise blank face. A confusing mix of warning and excitement stirs in your core, making you squirm on your knees. 

The discomfort makes something flicker across his face. 

You try again, determined, like you’ve got something to prove. You pull his other hand to your cheek. Please lead. You catch the start of a smirk on his face before he’s guiding you once again. It makes your mind blank; all you can do is breathe and focus on relaxing your muscles. It’s a welcome release from the stress. Grounding you in the present. You can only think as fast as he can glide along your tongue. 

As you build a rhythm, he verges on brutal, but when you’re rewarded with the delicious sound of Frankie groaning because of you the intensity means nothing. Your eyes water as you refuse to gag out of sheer willpower. His thumb smears your tears across your cheekbone, and he pulls you off of his cock.

He takes in your swollen lips, ragged breathing, and wet lashes like he’s committing the details to memory as you catch your breath, before he’s tapping at your cheek. You open wide for him and he rests the head of his cock on your tongue, shallowly tipping you back and forth. 

Your jaw could be aching or your knees may be digging into the rug, but it doesn’t matter to you. It’s much easier to meditate on the weight of his length slipping along your wet tongue. Centering yourself on that thought, your eyes flutter shut. 

You wonder if this side of Frankie has always been lurking beneath the surface. Chillingly collected, but with something viscous bleeding into the edges. You wonder if maybe you’ve called to this part of him with the mayhem of your state of mind. 

“Yeah,” Frankie rasps in his gravelly tone causing you to blink back up at him. You wonder if he can read your mind; if he was answering you. The hint of a smile remains on the corner of his lips when you look up, “Making you feel better already.” He’s presumptive but accurate. 

You give a muffled affirmation that vibrates in your throat as he slides past your lips and you take him deep as he can be. All your senses are filled with Frankie when you inhale, when you swallow, when you blink. You give, pliant for him, trusting him with the control. You don’t worry about how obscene you might look with tears rolling down your cheeks. You just want to hear what other sounds he might make for you. His thumb drags over your cheek again, wiping away the wet streaks. 

“This is the only reason you ever cry for me.” Frankie’s voice is dripping with affection. And possession. 

It makes everything foggy. The sentiment, the delivery, the authority. He doesn’t let you dwell on the unspoken commitment in his statement. Doesn’t give you the time to question him or spiral inward. 

Your head swims until he pulls you up, strips you, and settles you back onto his lap. Some action movie autoplayed after your episode ended. The crashing and explosions of the chase scene in the background don’t ruin the moment, in a twisted way it’s almost a fitting soundtrack for the two of you. 

Frankie allows you to pull his shirt up, over his head, and time slows. The warmth radiating between your bodies is nothing compared to the searing heat of Frankie’s gaze. It’s dizzying, between his torrid expression and his grip on your hips as he guides you closer. 

You go entirely mindless when the head of his cock nudges your clit, gasping as he slips along your wet seam. It brings everything into focus for you, and you reach between your bodies to guide him directly to your deplorably empty cunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” your word turns to a groan as he breaches your entrance, and you tense at the stretch, holding still. 

“Keep going,” he orders lowly, and you inch down until he impatiently takes control, slamming you down until you meet his hips. Your mouth hangs open at his move and the immediate fullness. His hardened look softens as your walls ripple and flex, adjusting to his size. 

At least until you start moving, grinding against him, slowly at first. Then the sharp sternness returns. You’re unaware, chasing the friction as your clit rubs against the dark hair surrounding the base of his cock. 

“Knew you’d be perfect,” he says it more like an I told you so to himself than praise for you, but the words affect you just the same. Your chest rises, swelling with pride, and you chase his approval instead of your pleasure. 

You ride him until your thighs burn. His hands are everywhere. Rolling your nipples between his fingers, squeezing all of your soft curves, spreading your legs wider to watch where he disappears inside of you. You bounce eagerly for him, spine arching to draw his eyes to the way your tits ripple from the force of your body colliding into his. 

You whine in disapproval when he interrupts you, pulling you flush against his chest, grazing his teeth along your neck. “Give it to me,” Frankie demands, his voice rough and raw, breath hot along your sweat-damp skin. 

He runs his hand down your body, thumb circling your clit, adding the pressure you need. You edge closer and closer, body taut with anticipation. “Come for me,” he commands. It’s the authority and his gravelly voice rolling through you that launches you into a shuddering release. 

Frankie continues talking while you’re disoriented by the overwhelming pleasure. “For me,” he grunts through clenched teeth as your pussy contracts around him. “I know that’s what you need.” You can only moan as you cling to his broad shoulders. “Only me.” 

You figure he’s just rambling until he grabs you by the jaw again, demanding you respond. Demanding you repeat it for him. And you do. With glassy eyes and you mutter his words back to him. Declaring you only come for him. That you need him. 

Your words unlock something within Frankie. “Good,” he approves. “Good girl.” He praises you gruffly as he holds you steady, pounding into you with an untamed strength. You’re floating, starry-eyed and softheaded at his praise. Murmuring sentence fragments and his name, conjuring throaty grunts from Frankie until he stills, coming deep inside of you. “Only me,” he echoes and you confirm. 

“Only you.” 

In your unguarded state, it’s a welcome commitment. Maybe you haven’t had any real dates yet, but he knows you. He wants you. He tells you he wants to take care of you, and that feels fucking good. 

You collapse against his chest, matching his breathing. The movie playing behind you reaches a tragic twist, setting the third act in motion and solidifying the protagonists dark path. You run your tongue along the column of Frankie’s throat as the score of the film hangs unresolved on a dissonant chord. He pulls you to his lips, kissing you possessively and captivating you. 

Your bodies flow, connected and attuned. In his lap, in his arms, with his tongue slipping between your lips, you feel wanted. Assured. Content to accept that he knows what you need. 

And he’s unrelenting. Determined to prove it to you. Again and again. 

All night. On the couch, in the shower, in your bed. 

Until the night bleeds into the morning and he doesn’t disappear. 

You take turns waking and watching one another sleep. Verifying he’s real. Watching your chest rise and fall before drifting off again. Until the sun heats your room and you wake again to find yourself curled into his broad frame. His chest to your back as he draws his fingers down your along the dip and swell of your waist and hip. 

“Did you mean it?” you ask, in a strikingly solemn tone for the soft setting. Breath shallow as you stare off toward the window. Not ready to turn and face him in the daylight. 

“Every word.” He punctuates his affirmation with a tender kiss behind your ear. His reassurance satisfies you; warmth blooms from your chest spreading to your fingers and toes. 

You spend a lazy Sunday together. Eating, laughing, fucking, and gazing at each other like lovesick teenagers. It’s too sweet to end. Instead, you become inseparable, taking turns staying at each other’s places until you have to go back. 

The world feels bright again. Lighter. 

He had paid such close attention as you got to know each other. He’s almost suspiciously perfect. Picking up your favorite takeout meals, putting on your favorite movies, and keeping your flowers fresh as the weeks pass. 

You feel like you can never get enough of him somehow. You think about him all day at work, even though he still visits you every morning like clockwork. Your heart swells when he meets you at the end of your shift to walk you home. 

You find yourself canceling your happy hour dates with friends to stay in with Frankie instead. Postponing and rescheduling, you’ll see them soon. It’s like there aren’t enough minutes in the day to get your fill of Frankie. 

You’re insatiable, always needing him in your mouth, between your legs, fucking you through the mattress, on the counter, any surface you can find. You’re never too much. He’s equally infatuated with you, a mutual obsession. Fulfilling your darker desires and unleashing fantasies you’ve never felt safe enough to explore. He’s greedy and hungry for you. Making you feel wanted and desired. 

With your head in the clouds, all you can see is how much he cares about you. He texts you whenever you’re apart, picks you up after your shifts, shows you off to his friends. 

You barely have to do anything for yourself. He’s always thinking of you, predicting your needs before know them yourself. He picks up your mail for you, runs errands before you get home, and stocks his apartment with all of the products you use and love so you don’t have to go home for days at a time. 

Things are so good that it’s rare when something goes wrong. 

But when it does, it really fucking hurts. 

When you get into an argument, a real one, he doesn’t fight with you. He leaves, swiftly and without another word. He doesn’t respond to your texts or calls. It feels like you’ve been torn in half; you sob and shake alone in your bed until your alarm blares and your headache throbs. 

He doesn’t respond the following day, doesn’t come in for coffee, and doesn’t show any signs of existing. You move through your shift like a hollow corpse haunting the cafe. Time drags agonizingly slowly. 

Every time the door opens your eyes snap towards the entrance, hoping to see the familiar curls and broad shoulders, but it’s not him. You restart your phone just on the odd chance there’s something wrong with it. He wouldn’t abandon you. He knows that would destroy you. 

The void in your chest is cold and dark. Anger simmers somewhere inside of it, but it’s not strong enough to set you off. When Frankie shows up at the end of your shift, the anger is snuffed out completely. His presence immediately reverses your heartbreak, and suddenly you’re apologizing to him before he gets a word out. 

You have to. He has to know you wouldn’t do anything to make him leave. He can’t. He’s calm, accepting your apology and taking you home where he erases your pain. With his hands, and mouth, and cock. Until you forget what the argument was ever about, and what it felt like to watch him walk away. Until it’s back to normal. 

Every day you rely on him more and more; you can’t breathe without him. But when he’s with you, everything feels easy. Right. 

Not many things can throw the two of you off. Your friends seem happy enough for you, despite their questions and insistence that you come out with them more often. You get along well with Frankie’s friends. They’re quick witted and welcome you genuinely. 

They treat you like family, but it doesn’t stop Frankie’s jealousy from flaring up. If Benny smiles at you for too long or if you rest a hand on Will’s bicep when you laugh it only takes minutes before Frankie’s fingers dig into your arm and he whisks you away. 

It gives you a perverse thrill every time. 

When he folds you over the bathroom counter at his friend’s house. Demanding you watch in the mirror as he reminds you with a fierce snarl and devastating thrusts that you’re his. When you can still hear his friends horseing around outside, but he pounds into you with such force, you can’t quiet yourself. He slaps a hand around your mouth to silence you, growling into your ear that you’ll take it quietly, like a good girl. 

Sometimes you aren’t even sure what triggers him. 

Like when he fucks you against the side of his SUV in the parking lot of the trendy bar Benny had invited you both to. All you can piece together is Frankie muttering something about your dress as he yanks the top of it down letting your tits spill into the cool night air. He’s reckless and animalistic, claiming you roughly under the stars and streetlights before you can even get into the car let alone through your front door.

…..

Tonight, you both know exactly what got under his skin. Maybe not the why of it all, but he’s sure you know how he feels, and he wants to hear you say it. 

It started this afternoon. He picked you up from work, like usual, and you chatted in the car as he drove to the grocery store. You sighed, tiredly as you recounted an exchange with a rude customer, but when Frankie pulled your hand towards his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the delicate skin on your inner wrist. 

Predictably, it brightened your features. Knowing your buttons doesn’t dull the intoxicating effect you have on him, though. He loves the way you light up so easily for him and it serves to deepen his conviction time and time again. Like a constant affirmation that he is where he is supposed to be. That everything he does for is exactly what he should be doing. Exactly what you need. 

He was still ruminating on this as you led him through the aisles of the grocery store. Unbothered that you had to double back to the produce section after forgetting some fresh herb you determined was crucial to the dish you planned out. You dashed around the corner in front of him, with a giggle when Frankie’s heart stilled. 

He didn’t have time to distract you. Your laughter cut off immediately. 

“What the fuck?” you muttered and Frankie grabbed your hand. 

Joel’s pace quickened as he brushed past you. Your head turned, calling his name once, but Joel carried on as if you didn’t exist. Frankie studied your face, emotions flooded your expression as you watched Joel walking away. Something darker flickered across them. 

Frankie followed your line of sight. Flowers. Joel was carrying a bouquet of flowers.

You apologized to Frankie. Clearly thrown off, but determined not to let it get to you or to Frankie. 

“I didn’t know he even lived here still,” you remarked. 

He doesn’t. The possessive fire burned through Frankie’s veins. “We’re going,” he commanded in a low tone that made your eyes flare wide. 

“What?”

“Now.”

“We can’t leave everything.” 

“They won’t arrest us.” He argued, as he all but carried you out the door, ushering you in a blur to his car and all the way home. Frankie moved swiftly and silently. Wholly consumed by the need to feel you writhing underneath him and crying out his name. He needed it so viscerally, he didn’t even have time to process how he was going to deal with Joel. 

Until you’re breathless and shuddering beneath him. Repeating everything he wants to hear. 

“Only for you,” you repeat as you rake your nails down his shoulder blades and the plane of his back. 

“Again,” he demands. You don’t know if he wants you to keep talking or to come again, but both are inevitable at this point. 

“I’m yours,” you pant, wrapping your legs around him as if you could pull him any deeper inside of you. He shifts slightly, angling your hips and your cunt clenches around him pulling him devastatingly close to the edge as you moan his name. 

He stills and you whine in protest as Frankie stretches past you to pick his phone up off the bedside table. “Keep going,” he orders as he points the lens at you. He needs you to say it again. He adjusts to resume his pace, snapping his hips into causing your lips to part with another moan. 

“I’m yours,” you repeat, “all yours.” He gives you a dark smile as he records you. Capturing all the lewd, wet sounds as he drives his cock into you, the euphoric smile that spreads on your face, and the words you know he always wants to hear. 

“Mine,” he agrees. 

……

You don’t see Joel again. And you don’t have time to dwell on the encounter anyway. Frankie keeps you busy and satisfied, and even surprises you by asking you to move in with him officially. Maybe it feels soon, but you spend nearly every day together anyway and the idea delights you. 

It’s an easy transition. You downsize some of your duplicate appliances, joking with him about how he must have great taste for having so many of the same products. He admits that you inspired a few of his purchases. 

You settle into a routine quickly, not much changes. 

Sometimes in the early morning, when you slip out of bed in the dark to get ready for your shift, you wonder if it’s all real. If someone can care about you as deeply as you care about them. But by the time you’re showered and dressed, he greets you with a sleepy kiss before pulling on his usual workout attire and driving you to work. 

You let your gaze linger this morning. Trailing along his profile as he drives, admiring all the details that you used to wonder about from the other side of the counter. His neck, those arms, his hands, those lips. They’re illuminated in flashes as you pass under the streetlights. 

You catch the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He always knows when you’re looking. He rests a hand just above your knee. He always knows what you need. And idea takes root in your mind, and you do everything to stop yourself from smiling and giving yourself away. It’ll take a few days to organize. He’s almost impossible to surprise. 

……

Later in the week, Frankie is on autopilot. Kicking off his shoes and pulling his sweaty shirt over his head before he lopes towards the ensuite for a shower. He only makes it a few strides before he’s on edge, noticing the lights he didn’t remember leaving on. He hears your voice. Relief and confusion twist together in his chest. How did you get back here before him? 

Walking into the bedroom you are a sexy surprise wrapped in red lingerie he’s never seen you wear before, but something is wrong. Your shoulders are curled inward, your cheeks are wet, and you’re hastily tying up your matching red satin robe. 

He scans the room, swallowing thickly when he notices the open coset door and the missing box on the shelf. 

He calls your name softly. 

“What is this, Frankie?” your voice shakes. Unsteady and wavering between fear and anger. 

You hold up his phone. Well, his other phone. Shit. 

…..

“Answer me,” you beg. Desperate for an explanation. For something to make sense. To understand how you went looking for the box with fuzzy handcuffs and instead found a phone with a new message from a number you still recognized. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and when he takes you into his arms you flinch. You want to shove him off of you. Despite your hostility, your body is still drawn to his. He always knows what you need. In his arms your heart feels tethered to his, like they could merge through the proximity of your rib cages. Like they beat for each other. 

“You trust me, right?” he asks. 

“Explain, please,” is all you can whisper. 

“It was to keep you safe,” he starts. 

“From what?” 

“To protect you. Joel wasn’t good for you. He couldn’t take care of you. Not the way you deserve.” 

“How would you know?” it’s still not making sense to you. 

“You told me.” He’s so self-assured. Like, he’s always right. Like, he can’t even imagine why you’d be upset right now. “I did it for you,” he adds. 

“Did what?” you need him to say it out loud. You need him to fix this. 

“I know you thought Joel was trying, but he was only going to drag it out. Disappoint you over and over. Can you imagine what it would’ve been like for me to watch you go through that?” 

You don’t answer. 

“I couldn’t watch. I made him an offer, but he’s a stubborn man.” 

You snort quietly at that understatement. Nobody tells Joel what to do. 

“I just had to find the right leverage.” 

Frankie holds you so tight, you can’t wriggle around to look him in the eyes. 

“He couldn’t give you what you need, not like I can. I know what you need. And, think of how fast you got over him anyway. You were mine all along.” 

You’re lightheaded. From the shock of finding the evidence. From his words. From the way you believe him. You want to sit down. You tap at his arms insistently, begging against his chest, but he keeps talking. His deep voice rumbling in your ears. 

“You wouldn’t have understood it then. I had to keep it from you to protect you. So we could have what we have now.” He’s not listening to you. Not letting you go. It makes you snap. 

“Let go of me!” 

“You have to understand first.” 

“I’ll listen,” you plead. “Just let me breathe.” He lets you step back, but doesn’t release you from his grip. His hands are glued to your arms. He waits, steady and chillingly calm.

Slowly, the pieces start to fall into place. The unanswered questions from your breakup. The way Joel completely vanished. 

“I thought he just left,” you whisper to yourself. 

“He did,” Frankie argues. 

“I thought he didn’t want me,” you continue. 

“He didn’t. Not the way that I want you.” 

Something cold trickles down your spine and you look at Frankie. For a moment he’s a complete stranger. Your stomach sinks and your vision spins. Slamming your eyes shut you filter through your racing thoughts. 

It wasn’t fate that led you into Frankie’s arms. 

You wound up crying on his cock by design, trying to fuck away the pain of a heartbreak that wasn’t even real. You’ve fallen into a whole new life, while the man you had loved may have never stopped loving you back? 

“You blackmailed Joel Miller?” 

“Technically, it’s extortion.” 

It’s all there on the surface. Exposed between the two of you. Who Frankie really is. Cunning and competent. Devoted and dangerous. Possessive and powerful. 

“It worked, until he came to town for someone’s engagement party.” 

“When we saw him at the store?” Frankie nods. “And then you sent him the video we made.” 

“Hearing it from you seemed to do the trick. He knows you’re mine and you only want me.” 

Frankie gives you time to study him. Absorbing the information. The gleam in his dark eyes. The same eyes from when he would visit you at work. Just as fierce and just as earnest. 

You’ve always known him for his true self. He’s been yours since he first laid eyes on you. And he knew you needed him. 

“And you did it… for us.” 

“For you.” 

You can see it plainly on his face. He’d do it again and again to have you. Because you’re his. It’s all you ever wanted. It has to be wrong, but it’s the hottest thing anyone has ever done for you. 

You push him back towards the bed, climbing onto his lap in a recreation of the first night you spent together. It’s reflexive. The magnetic pull between you has your hips rolling in his lap as he’s already hardening beneath you. 

“You’re sick,” you tell him before you lick a hot stripe up his neck. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls back before you’re crashing into him with a ravenous kiss.  

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

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@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40 tags for folks who seemed interested when i shared a lil wip about it (aka no worries tags)

@hoelaris @punkseyes @ace-turned-confused @magneticecstasy @lotusbxtch

@bitchesuntitled

@baronessvonglitter

@thundermartini @milla-frenchy

[fallingformatt]

“IM NOT THAT SCARY AFTER ALL” C.S.

dealer Chris x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you go to the beach with your dealer in the middle of the night?

warnings: smut! 18+ unprotected sex, mentions weed

word count: 1.9k

a/n: heyy everyone my name is lily and this is my first fic, please don’t be hard on me. Leave suggestions or requests! Hope you enjoy

➽───────────────❥

I kept tossing and turning in my bed, I couldn't fall asleep for the life of me it was so hot in my room that even only wearing my oversized t-shirt that barely covers my ass and a thong I was still too hot to fall asleep. I picked up my phone to check the time. "Fuck" I said under my breath as the phone screen read 2:37 AM "Well there is only one thing that can help me," I said to myself as I swiftly hopped out of my bed, rushing to my vanity. I pulled out my pink 'makeup bag' which really wasn't a makeup bag but a special bag that holds weed for when I want to smoke and that's the beauty of it, my parents would never think to look in my makeup bag that is placed on my vanity, hiding in plain sight.

I pull on the zipper revealing the contents of the bag: some papers a lighter and a small tin container "Bingo" I say to myself getting excited to smoke. I opened the container and was left shocked. It was empty not even a little left for me to smoke. I sighed as I knew what my two options were. Option one go back to bed and try to fall asleep in this hell-like heat or option two message my dealer who I'm scared of. I try to see him as rarely as possible. Chris is so hot but also hella scary and always seems cold and distant so I always kept it short and always buy enough to last me at least a month. I weighed out my options and decided that there was no way that I was falling asleep without smoking so I grabbed my phone.

"hey r u still up?" I texted him and waited for an answer hoping he was still up so I could get my weed.

"yeah i'm still up, need something ma?" he answered. He always called me ma or princess which I found weird but never dared to say anything about it.

"can I buy my usual? im all out" I text right back happy that he's still awake

"sure ma gonna be there in five" he answers

I quickly go out of my room and check if my parents are asleep. I go down the stairs and quickly sneak out of the backdoor as I usually do since it's the furthest from my parents room and they wouldn't hear the door opening or closing. I go around my house and he's already at my front door waiting in his car. I quickly get in the car. "hey ma I like what ur wearing" he says smirking. I look down and realize I forgot to put on shorts or pants and now I'm sitting in his car bare ass on the seat as my shirt raised up a bit while sitting down. "well I rushed outside and it's really hot outside" I said quietly. "Do you have my weed?" I continued right after. "Of course I do ma, here," he said and pushed a baggie with weed in my hand. My eyes lit up seeing my goods and a smile creeps on my face as I reach out my hand with cash "Damn, you're so excited over some weed. You know it's not good to do drugs right?" he says in a cold tone taking my money. "Well, this weed is the only way I'm falling asleep in this weather. Besides you should want people to buy weed it's how you earn your money" I say back. "Do you wanna go somewhere cooler?" Chris asks. " Well I don't know, my parents are asleep" I answer. "Exactly they won't even know you left the house," he says smirking again. "You've got a point, sure let's go," I say.

This interaction was a bit different than all other ones. He didn't seem as cold as usual but maybe I'm just imagining things.

We have been driving for at least 10 minutes now and I'm sitting on my side both my legs horizontally on the car seat as I look through the window listening to the music that's quietly playing in the car. "Where are we going? You never told me" I ask as I turn my head. I saw Chris looking at my ass as it was fully visible in the position I'm sitting in. "We're almost there" his eyes quickly shot to the road as he answered. "Were you looking at my ass?" I say changing my sitting position. "Well ur the one who's not wearing any pants" he scoffs coldly. "I didn't know we would go somewhere" I quickly answer. "We're here," Chris says and I look outside the window. We are at the beach, the moon is shining and the waves look so calming. We both get out of the car and head to the shore.

We find a good spot and sit down. We are the only ones here no people in sight, just me and him. Well if I think about it he could kill me and no one would ever know, the thought of that made me uneasy. "You good ma?" he asks "Yeah I'm fine" I answer looking at the pretty waves as the warm breeze hits my skin. "This feels so nice," I say quietly. "It does, do you want to smoke?" he asks holding a joint that he had just rolled in between his fingers "You bet I do" I answer and he puts the joint in between my lips and lights it. I take a puff and let the smoke out. We finish the joint and sit for a bit.

I look at Chris and notice his beautiful features in the moonlight, my gaze moving from his hair to his lips, as my eyes travel down further my eyes fall to his crotch and I feel my panties dampen. He turns his head looking at me and his clear blue eyes with a hint of red surrounding them meet mine. "what's up ma?" he asks not breaking the eye contact. "You know, you're not as scary as I thought," I say looking down at my fingers and playing with the sand beneath me. "Why do you think I'm scary, do you think I'm going to kill you or something" he shoots back a question. "That thought did cross my mind if I'm being honest. You're always so cold towards me" I say and he chuckles at my confession. "I would never kill such a pretty lady. I always love seeing you ma" he says and a smile appears on my face.

"You wanna go for a swim?" he asks "I don't have a swimsuit" I answer "Neither do I, let's go anyway, cmon ma don't be shy," Chris says looking at me shooting me a quick smirk before standing up and pulling down his shorts and his shirt running towards the waves. I get up and pull off my t-shirt throwing it into the sand and covering my bare chest with my hands as I have no bra on.

I start running towards the ocean as well, seeing Chris already in the water fully swimming. I swim to him and he looks at me staring me down, till he glances at my boobs and licks his lips. "Kiss me," he demands with a lustful voice. He takes my hand and pulls me closer until our bodies meet pushing his lips onto mine unexpectedly. His tongue exploring my mouth before breaking the kiss. He moves to kissing my neck sucking on it leaving a mark. I tilt my head back and let out a quiet moan as he hits my sweet spot. "Oh you like that don't you ma," he says and moves to kiss my collarbones leaving a trail of kisses till he gets to my breasts nibbling on my nipple. "Oh fuck" I moan. "Tell me what you want, and I'm gonna give it to you princess," Chris says in a deep voice. "I want you" I manage to say. He grabs my hand and starts running towards the shore as I'm following him. We get to the shore where our clothes are.

I lay down and he crawls in between my legs his chain dangling above my face his eyes full of lust staring at my lips before smashing his lips on mine once again as we share a passionate kiss. He pulls down my thong not breaking the kiss, doing the same for his boxers. As we deepen the kiss his fingers move up and down my heat before slamming them into me. I throw my head back as a loud moan leaves my lips. "Oh fuuck Chris" I moan out loud as he continues to thrust his fingers into me at a rapid pace. "Tell me what you want," Chris says as his voice grows deep "I-I nee-" I try to say but can't finish the sentence. Chris suddenly pulls his fingers out of me and my eyes shoot open in frustration "Full sentences princess. Tell me what you want" he says his eyes darkening with arousal "I need- I need you in me Chris" I manage to squeeze out as my hips buck up yarning for him. His thumb presses against my lips before I open my mouth sucking on it. Without any warning, he pushes deeply into me causing me to let out a scream-like moan, tears forming in my eyes. Without letting me adjust he starts pounding into me his tip kissing my g-spot "Oh my god Chris you're so big" I moan as I throw my head back. He pounds deeply into me keeping the same rhythm hitting my g-spot with every thrust "Look at me" he says but I keep my eyes shut. "I said look at me princess," his voice getting deeper than before as he grabbed my jaw, and our eyes met. "Look at you, taking me so good princess," he says as he pushes his lips on mine my hand travels to his wet hair lightly pulling it and he places his hand on my thigh, our bodies sticking to each other like glue.

He continues to thrust deep and hard as my moans slip against his lips, my hands traveling to his back. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back, rolling his eyes and letting out an animalistic growl I feel my climax coming. "I- I- I'm close don't stop please don't stop Chris" I cry out as I arch my back, digging my nails into his back leaving scratch marks, bucking up my hips to feel him even deeper. Chris lets out a moan as his thrusts become more aggressive and faster. I dig my nails into the sand holding on to anything I can "I'm so close I'm gonna cum" I moan out as I feel my walls tightening around his cock. Chris hearing that thrusts in me harder than ever making me almost scream out in pleasure. His breathing became hitched as he trusted a few more times before cumming letting out a loud moan, leading to the knot in my stomach to unravel, I let out a pornographic-like moan as my orgasm took over me.

As we both came down from our highs, he pulled his dick out of me kissing me before laying in the sand next to me. He turned his head to look at me and said "Come here ma" and pulled me closer as I laid my head on his chest. We watched as the sun started to come up "See I'm not so scary after all" Chris said with a chuckle. "We should do this again" he continued and I nodded my head in agreement. "Common let's get you home," he said and we got dressed heading for his car.

[bradshawed]

the holiday + rafe .ᐟ   rafe is driving home to tannyhill for the holidays, but a terrible snowstorm hits, and he finds himself holed up in your little bed and breakfast until it passes !!

drew’s masterlist && christmas celly x

warnings — fem!reader, smut, kissing, cockwaming, swearing, slight fluff, Ward

…

Rafe rubbed his eyes in frustration, running his fingers through his wolf cut as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Fucking Sarah” he muttered, checking his phone for the millionth time.

The Cameron heir was driving back to his “home” in Tannyhill for his sister’s wedding. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t step a single foot on that godforsaken island, much less for her but as always, his father insisted.

Rafe took another deep breath, relaxing his hold on the steering wheel of his Jeep. He was going to need more than a few therapy sessions when he got back.

…

The snow storm raged on as the blonde weighed his options, messaging Wheezie to let her know that he was stopping in the next bed and breakfast to let the storm pass.

Lou: dad wants to know what B&B ur at ??

Rafe squinted at the chipped paint on the blue snow covered sign, smiling at the small yellow flowers drawn on with smiley faces.

Ray: Y/N’s Seaside Inn.

Lou: oooo i know where that is, the owner’s super sweet!! tell her i said hi :)

Rafe liked his sister’s message, pocketing his phone before running inside.

…

The door chimed at the sound of a new customer. “One moment!” Rafe leaned his back against the reception desk, turning around to admire the interior. It was cute, he could see why Wheezie liked this place.

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I do for you?” You were cute, your voice was gorgeous and fuck you looked adorable bundled up in your oversized sweater. Maybe coming back for Sarah’s wedding wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had a room available for the night?”

“Hoping to camp it out until the storm passes?”

“Something like that.” He teased leaning on the counter, a renewed twinkle in his eyes.

“Mmhmm, cash or card Mr. Cameron?” You asked, leaning towards the handsome man.

His eyes filled with surprise as you clarified that Wheezie talked about her brother often but clearly failed to mention how handsome he was, bringing a warmth to his cheeks.

“Funny, she happened to say the same about you.”

“Oh yeah, and what else did she happen to say?”

“It’s a secret,” he whispered, zipping his lips and throwing away the key, “you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

“But I’m so impatient, you might have to show me Mr. Cameron.” You both moved towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms, his hands ghosting your hips.

“Jump.”

Your lips were on his, messy, teeth clashing as you devoured each other.

“Key,” you moaned as his mouth sucked on your sweet spot, his hand groping the back pocket of your jeans to retrieve the key to his room. You were made for him.

Once you were both inside, Rafe threw you onto the bed, locking the door behind him.

…

“I’ve missed you.” His admission hanging in the air as he tucked that one strand of hair behind your ear that never seems to listen. You leaned down from your position straddling his cock to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He was made for you.

note — so i took some creative liberties with this and it sort of turned into a smut? and maybe Rafe has been driving back to visit you and Wheezie without telling anyone else. hope you like it sunshine xx

christmas celly masterlist !

[sturnslovie]

‧₊˚.𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜˚೨ৎ⋆｡ - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: after being a brat to matt all day, he finally decides to put you in your place.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: smutt, nsfw, swearing, teasing, slight humiliation if you squint, sub!brat reader, dom!matt

you sit on the couch scrolling mindlessly on your phone, and you decide to text matt

“matt” read 4:46pm

“yes ml?”

“can we go shopping im bored” read 4:47pm

“be ready in 10”

(Time skip)

as matt drives, he notices you have your arms crossed.

he puts reaches his hand to place it on your thigh, but you smack it away.

matt glances at you in confusion and asks, “you okay babe?”

you just continue to cross your arms and look out the window, ignoring his question.

he glares at you one last time before putting his eyes on the road, thinking you’re gonna be fine once we arrive at the mall.

while in a store, you purposely grab a bunch of random things you dont need.

matt notices how much stuff you have in your arms. “here, let me help you.” he reaches his hands out to grab a plushie from ur arms

“no!” you exclaim. “I can do it myself, im not a baby.”

he sighs, “really? Better not drop it.”

as you walk to the cash register, you drop it. everything falling out your hands.

you kneel on the floor as you hurriedly pick it up, and matt kneels over to help you but you smack his hand.

“i. dont. need. your. help.”

matt reluctantly stands up as you pick up all ur things and head to the cash register, not wanting to make you more angry.

as you walk out with all the bags on each side of your arms, matt offers to hold them for you.

“fuck. off.” you say with a sharp tone.

matt glares at you with a irritated expression. “thats it, we’re leaving.” he says with a sharp tone, clearly furious.

matt grabs your hand and immediately exits the mall. he shoves you roughly in the passenger seat and slams the door. when he gets in the drivers seat, he speeds off out the parking lot, and immediately to our house.

when we arrive, he exits and grabs you by your wrist, not even bothering to grab the shopping bags that are still in the car.

we get in the house and he slams the front door, immediately dragging you upstairs.

“m-matt-!” you exclaim,

“Shut it.”

he drags u into the room and throws you on the bed.

“Clothes, off. Now.” He says sternly with a sharp tone.

you immediately take off ur shirt, then your shorts, Matt crossing his arms as you do so, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

“those too.” He points out your underwear and bra.

you immediately remove ur bra and underwear, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

“All fours, Now.”

“…” you hesitate for a second before getting on all fours, exposing your wet pussy.

he gets on the bed behind you before sliding down his pants and boxers, his hard dick slapping his stomach as it drips with pre-cum.

he slides his dick into your pussy, and thrusts it fast and hard, letting out moans from your mouth and he puts grabs a fistful of your hair and shoves your head into the pillow.

you cant help but let out pornography moans,

he begins to speak,

“So you wanna be a little brat all day huh?” He thrusts harder and faster.

“AH~! M-MATT~!” You moan in the pillow, sweat forming on your forehead as more pleasured moans slip out.

“Acting like a brat just so i can fuck it out of you, isnt that right? You- *thrust* little- *thrust* fucking, *thrust* slut.”

“I-Im~ s-sorry~!” You manage to slip out through every breathe.

“Damn right you are.” He says, as he finally releases inside you, letting out a groan.

You can feel yourself close, and as you’re right on the edge, matt pulls out of you with a smirk.

“H-hey, what!?” You exclaim.

“Nope. Thats what you get for being a brat all day.” He pulls up his boxers and sweatpants, giving your ass a hard slap before kissing u on the forehead.

He gets up and walks downstairs to the living room. He plops down on the couch before the turning on the tv.

You put your clothes back on, and follow him downstairs. You sit next to him on the couch.

“Matt please..im sorry..” you plead with puppy eyes.

“..” Matt hesitates for a second before patting his thigh. “Sit.”

You shimmy out of your brandy melville shorts and sit on his thigh. You turn ur upper body around to pull down his sweatpants, but he grabs your wrist.

“Nope.” He glares at you.

you groan as u turn back forward. You cant help but slowly grind ur hips, first going slowly but then progressively faster.

Matt smirks as he sees how desperate you are for release, but he can’t help but watch as your hips grind against his thigh. He gets an erection, and fists his bulge through his pants.

you continue to grind your hips, slowly coming to the edge. And as you do, matt puts his hand inside his boxers, cupping his dick and rubbing it back and forth.

You grip onto matts other thigh as you feel yourself get close. You finally then release on matts thigh, moaning and leaving a wet patch on his grey sweatpants. matt also feels himself about release, his climax reaching as he groans in pleasure, making his crotch a sticky mess.

I WAS TO LAZY TO WRITE THE REST SORRY😭😭

[rougepancake]

Hello! I love to ur writing so much ml!! It’s so descriptive and the plot is incredibly well written. Is it possible for me to request aged up genya x f. reader, where he has a breeding kink? thank you!! 💘

SBWJWJWNWJS TYSM GWEN!!!

Not baby, babies

FT. Genya Shinazugawa

WARNINGS: Suggestive content under cut. Minors and ageless blogs dni, you will be blocked. Breeding kink, modern au.

How long had you been sitting there?

You figured it didn’t matter, since it kinda was your job to look after this kid.

That’s right. You work at a daycare, and it was just you and this kid here. His parents had yet to come pick him up, despite your hours being posted clearly on the window. It sucked for you too, since Genya was on his way to take you home.

The poor kid was miserable too. He was crying the whole time, clinging to your side as if you were actually his mother.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of sitting there, Genya and the kid’s parents showed up. Thankfully, the parents explained why they had been late, and even handed you a little cash as compensation, which meant you were free to go home now.

And Genya was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Honestly, I’m just glad they didn’t forget the little fella.” You sighed and leaned back in the passenger’s seat of his truck, closing your eyes with a frown. “Could you imagine? I’d have to get the police involved.”

You were met with silence.

“He was crying so hard too, I felt awful.”

Nothing.

“Genya?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you so quiet?” You finally looked over at him, and noticed how red his face was. Holy shit was he okay?? “Oh my god are you running a fever?!? Pull over!!” You panicked and grabbed ahold of his arm, frowning as he avoided your worried gaze.

“Y/n- I uh- I’m fine. Don’t worry…” He cleared his throat nervously, and you knew something was up.

“What? Was it something I did?”

“W-Well- I uh- yeah…” He finally turned his head to look at you, his eyes lidded and his face flushed. “You looked so damn hot with that kid. I kinda wanna give you one of my own just to see what you’d look like.” The words left his mouth, and it was clear that he didn’t think before he spoke.

You were both surprised by his words.

“H-Huh?!?”

“N-NOTHING!!!”

It was an awkward drive home.

[bibleofficial]

INDICATIVE OF THE PROBLEM !!!!!!!!!

my new fav way to ‘spend money’ is get tech on backmarket & then play w it for a few days before returning it

[tojipie]

ahhh truck driver toji so cute ur aus for him are srsly superior i swear!!! i think it’d be so cute if maybe you wrote abt the items/souvenirs toji has collected and gifted you as you travel together :D the emotional meaning and why hehe

hii ! here’s a list:

disposable cameras: he buys them more for himself then he does for you. he’s the type to refuse to delete photos to free up storage on his phone, and won’t pay for the extra gigabytes, so naturally he just started opting for hard copies.

there’s shots of you two tucked into every crevice of the truck, and he has an old shoebox full of them tucked under the driver’s seat. he usually keeps his weekly favorite tucked away in the visor mirror.

coins! he’s constantly sifting through his change from gas station purchases to look for older or unique coins to gift to you. he loves how excited you get when you come across those vintage coin press machines and insists he be the one to press the lever down.

trucker hats again, these ones are more for him than you. you just end up wearing them more than he does (and he lets you). he literally can’t help himself when it comes to getting new hats. and when he decides to bring one up to the counter you always have to remind him that he has at least 6 just like it.

he’ll send you into gas stations with a crumpled 50 from time-to-time, telling you to go ham as long as you make sure to get him a case of beer. you’ll sometimes get yourself a gag gift out of boredom, showing it off to him with a smile.

you bought him a gag hat one time that read “#1 MILF.” he found it funny at the time, using it to push back his fringe once the sun started beating down on you two. he ended up forgetting that he had it on by noon, sitting through an entire meal at an ihop not knowing why everyone was giggling at the two of you.

keychains! he loves giving you the ones with little snow globes attached, you have a key ring where you keep all of them. they always change depending on what season you’re in. if it’s cold he tends to go for winter themed charms, and if it’s warmer he likes to get you the kind with pressed flowers.

bottle caps: random sobriety checks are frequent depending on where the two of you are driving through, so toji knows not to let himself get caught with alcohol in his system before the two of you have gotten to your destination for the night. when he finally gets to crack open a case, he’ll give you the bottle cap to fiddle around with.

you’ve since started saving them in a jar after learning they could be exchanged for cash! you’re saving up to buy him something for his birthday.

[kirarifutari]

enhypen as fast food workers (enhypen ot7.)

GENRE .. !? enhypen ot7 headcanons i guess... pureee crack, comedy

WARNINGS .. !? not proof read, swearing, for shits and giggles don't take anything to heart lol

WC ..?! approx 852

NOTES.. ?! okay pls blame @dazed-hee for putting this thought into my head and helping me w this... i cannot believe i sat my ass down and wrote this,, yes i just got off work ... anyway i hope u enjoy this goofy little piece pls like + reblog to support!!

heeseung

actually does his job properly LOLLL

he's so good at it asw he is never ever stressed 😭😭 he never complains either he just gets shit done ?? like you'll be on shift w him and magically you don't have to do anything ever bc somehow he has it under control…?

all the customers love him asw LMAO he's the type to remember regulars ���

god sent everyone needs a heeseung to work with, he's even nice to the rude customers but is not afraid to be a little passive aggressive bitch 🤧

he never talks badly about anyone so no one ever shit talks him?? but if you ask him ab drama he'd be like “not naming any names but…” 😭

jay

he is exactly like heeseung except when is jay ever NOT stressed

he is internally crying every five seconds over something and every time a customer complains about something you can see the light in his eyes die little by little 💀💀

he doesn't even care what anyone else is doing he's just so caught up in doing his job he doesn't realise that he's doing everything himself…  more utc!

if you catch him on a good day tho you can hear him make fun of customer orders 😭 “who the fuck orders 3 hamburgers past the age of three years old…”

let's you do whatever you want bc hes too busy dealing w the emerging grey hairs 🙏

jake

the best person to work your shift w for a good time hands downnn

he's so funny he will make you cackle every five seconds,, you'll be taking a drive thru order and you'd be trying so fucking hard not to laugh into the mic 😭 he will fr start SINGING in ur ear goodbye

super friendly w customers and will literally start a conversation ab the most random things ?? “bro did you just order this family box?? you eating that yourself? that's crazy, mad respect” 💀

dawg does everything all at once, making burgers, taking orders, handing out food, changing the bins ??? yet somehow he's the one goofing off the most ? 

sunghoon

doesn't know how he landed the job tbh… everyone expected him to be unemployed the rest of his life 🔥

HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO COUNT CHANGE W CASH 😭 bro tries his hardest but is always fumbling around fr,, our maths legend

the type to be like “hm? i can't hear you” “what did you say? “yeah just gimme a minute” he is TOO CHILL he's so unserious ab this job he clocks on and does nothing half the time 🙏 he'll say he'll do what you ask him too but... you both know he won't xoxox

somehow he's still one of the managers favourites and gets good shifts every week… 

if a customer yells at him he'd be like “yeah give me a second” and then just gets someone else to deal with it LMFAO 💀

sunoo

THE BIGGEST SHIT TALKER having a shift w him is so good, he somehow knows everything that's going on w everyone ??? fills you in w all the gossip fr.

he's rly bubbly w all the nice customers and is one of the nicer employees to work with but if ur on his bad side … 💀💀💀

like if you annoy him as a customer he will hand you order wordlessly and look you up and down HE DOESNT CAREEE BROOO 😭

if anyone ever blames him for doing something wrong on shift he literally will just be like “that wasn't me tho 😄😄” biggest liar and everyone knows it but no one cares cus we all love him 🫶

sunoo will definitely be the type to buy you food on his break or give you free stuff when you clock off 😭

jungwon

would be the biggest gas lighter LMFAO

“oh you ordered a double big mac and not a regular? yeah on our register it's gone through as regular so i don't know what you want me to do, you can pay for another one tho!” 💀💀💀💀

bro gives so much sass to rude customers he does NOT gaf, he does it all w a smile on his face too like “sorry about that but we can't do anything to fix it 😊” 

he’d be so chill w his co workers asw, he would really care if everyone's messing around but somehow w him on shift everything goes oddly smoothly… 

working w him is so fucking funny cus he will never take no for an answer w a customer he will keep pushing until they LEAVE 😭

niki

LMFAOOO okay this kid fucking hates his job LOL

will spit in a customers drink because he can 🙏 he will not take shit from anyone and he knows no one will fire him bc they're understaffed 😚

plays the best music and always has kitchen speaker aux !!!

if you ask him to remake a burger or help you with something he'll either give you a blank stare or a “no, i won't.” and then do it for you anyway 👊👊 he is such a little menace but he doesn't care 

w annoying ass customers he will literally start arguing w them STOP

would go viral on tiktok cus some customer was filming him being rude but everyone would be siding w him bc niki is always in the right godbless.

[pumpkinsy0]

hcs of stevepop being haters to papercut but specifically curly😸

rare stevepop mention in my inbox omg

•first of steve dont even hate curly fr, its soda that dont like him, its like a “curly shepard slander is not only tolerated, but highly encouraged” typa thing, steve has no strong feelings about curly, thinks hes trouble and a nuisance but nothin noteworthy, everyone thinks that of curly, steves not special in that regard😢

•soda could b ranting about how curly isnt good for pony and steves just not paying attention, he’s just staring at soda thinking he looks good😭😭, but if soda does say something outlandish that curly did, he will make his own comment

•i like to think that curly and steve r similar in some aspects so when soda mentions something steve also does, the convo goes “dont i do that same thing” “yea but ur u, so thats different” and steve squints his eyes cause he doesnt know how to take that one

•instead of just paying for the snacks at the drive ik, curly and pony go to the dx to pay for snacks and just sneak into the drive in w the snacks in curlys secret pockets, and will soda admit that thats clever as hell??? NO HE WILL NOT☝🏽☝🏽, he makes sneaking glances at him

•only time steve rlly talks to curly is if he makes some kinda comment towards soda, so at that cash register, curly teases soda and i WAS gonna say that steve doesnt say much and aggressively keeps it professional but id b a liar, steves saying something slick right back

•bc steve and curly dont rlly know each other that well, their banter is pretty much limited to curly talking about steve being w soda and steve WOULD say something about being w pony but sodas right there and he wouldnt like that, so he says something about curly being a pain in the ass, very surface level bullyin goin on here

•when soda sees pony and curly, hes literally pulling steve along, steve is 95% unwilling 5% willing bc he rlly does care for pony and wants to know whats up w em

•HOWEVER, he’s not that interested that he wants to be around them for longer than an hour when theyre supposed to be hanging out, steve just wants to question em for 5, maybe 10 mins THEN leave but soda wants to stay for way longer

•i feel like ppl also forget that steve still goes to school, so when theres a school dance steve takes advantage of that and uses it as a date opportunity and brings soda, but on e again much to everyones disappointment pony n curly r there too, so sodas like TRYING to enjoy his time w steve but look at curly over there,,,breathing near pony,,,how dare he share the same air,,,

•steves the one who drove all of em to the dance, however soda promised to not be too overbearing for pony and steves sake, which he kinda???did???? he was staring at em ofc but so was steve, but steve was just laughing at the stupid shit curly was pulling pony into while soda was makin sure nothin too over 18 was goin on

•steve is still like one of ponys biggest haters, once he told pony something about him being so desperate to not be a tag a long he mustve picked the closest person to him to prove that he wasnt and it just so happened to be curly and thats how they got together

[roe-and-memory]

MACK HEADCANONS PLZZZ

OF COURSE!!

mack is seriously one of my favourite side characters. i literally adore him SO much

- i think mack has like. 5 sisters. and hes the oldest and only boy of all of the siblings. this is a hc roe and i have had for a while, he just has such oldest brother of the family vibes but also like hes so gentle as if he grew up with sisters. i can imagine him, 17, the second oldest being somewhere around 11 or 12, and theyve convinced him to bake cupcakes with him. hes got his mothers pink apron on, hes doing all the work, while his sisters are hanging off of him and playing with their toys all over the kitchen floor. he couldnt bake for shit, but anything for his baby sisters

- adding onto above, i dont think he did too much in school. his mother worked two jobs and his father was away a lot on business trips, so he very willingly and very happily took care of his younger sisters 24/7. and im not saying his parents were neglectful - not at all. i think his parents worked hard to take them on trips and keep them afloat. the did family trips as many times a year as they had the chance to and their parents made sure the kids knew they were loved.

- AMAZING driver. hes been driving since he was young, and he can maneuver his hauler better than most other drivers. both his parents contributed to teaching him how to drive, and they both gave him their separate tips and tricks, so he is quite literally the collective bunch of his parents driving habits all in one.

- he left to work for rusteze as a truck driver when he was around 22/23, when the second oldest sibling was old enough to hold down the fort. a lot of his extra cash went to his family back home, but he stayed on the road.

- not too interested in relationships, he’s always been kind of held down and its nothing against his family but now he likes the freedom of home being on the road

- his truck (1985 mack superliner) was his grandfathers cab. he bought it brand new and never used it much, trucking ran in his family (even his father was a trucker before he met macks mother and settled down), so his grandfather gave him the cab for free as a gift one year and he’s used it and kept it in tip-top shape ever since

- lightning is like that little brother he never had. he found the kid at a truck stop, a distressed fifteen year old looking to get out of town (he was running away from home) and saved him from getting his shit rocked by some pissed off old guy because he’d asked for two dollars for chips and the guy took a personal offence to it. mack literally felt sick at the idea that this kid was out this far from the city alone. lightning had WALKED from henderson to vegas to see the race, and then just decided he wasnt going home. mack was so heartbroken because the thought of one of his sisters ever being in the situation that this kid is in right now made his stomach churn. the kid had begged to go with him, and mack felt so guilty he said yes. he initially tried to take the kid somewhere safe, like a home for kids or something, but lightning was quite content to stay, and it felt like having a little brother around and it was Different (mack checked the news every day for any missing child reports and Nobody reported lightning missing. it literally destroyed mack emotionally because How do u not report ur own child missing when he leaves and doesnt return.)

- his truck has bunk beds since its a sleeper cab and he let lightning decorate his bunk with posters and those glow in the dark stars and literally anything the kid wanted he could plaster on the walls and mack did not care. this also included a bunch of stickers, because oh Lord that boy is obsessed with little stickers

- mack had no idea how to bond with lightning considering he himself had grown up being forced to play barbies with his little sisters (they would try to make him be evil ken but then they’d get mad because he was too nice. he got to play as the dollhouse dog instead) whereas lightning grew up with Nothing. lightning didnt really know how to interact with toys without feeling ridiculous because he’d been conditioned to believe toys were for Babies. mack eventually gave up trying to guess what lightning liked and just took him to a toys r us, where lightning Immediately found a stuffed dinosaur he liked and got like 2 hot wheels cars and then proceeded to profusely apologize for wasting macks money on such stupid stuff. mack did not give af, as long as his little brother was happy he was ok

- he gave lightning his first ever hug. before that not a Single person had ever hugged that child and mack was so sad to learn it because how do parents go 15 years without ever hugging ur own flesh and blood

- he taught lightning how to drive in a field with the truck during break days, and realized the kid’s potential and signed him up for late model stock races after a bit of talking. rusty and dusty also took an interest in racing at this point, and allowed mack to carry the kids late model stock car in the truck (they figured out a way for him to get both product and the car in the truck, and conveniently every delivery was for the city lightnings next race was in)

- hes kept all of lightnings late model stock trophies, the kid was a real good winner even back then and he’s even got photos that photographers had taken of the wins when little 15 year old lightning mcqueen was standing on the roof of his car holding his trophy above his head with the biggest smile in the world plastered on his face (those wins were like the proudest big brother moments ever until he got into the piston cup)

- hes a MASSIVE harv hater but hes too nice to say it. when doc starts expressing his own dislike for harv, mack starts talking to him about it and they bond over the fact they hate that man so fucking much that they end up managing to get him fired

- during the piston cup off season he goes back to delivering product for rusteze

- even though lightnings older now he still sees him as a younger brother

i think this is it.. THANK U FOR THE ASK!!! i love talking about mack :3