#FM writes

[eaissilyy]

Trust me I know what the formless mother is thinking. It revealed to me in a dream. The outer god has reached me. Anyways the lands of shadow’s formless mother franchise is not looking good. (Sorry bloodfiend. why do you have a weapon that is just called… fork?)

I used to draw FM as in Miquella’s egg with a arm, but now had to change to a bloody flesh of armless meat. Don’t know if this is a downgrade or not but girl your range of appearance is WIDE.

[fromtheseventhhell]

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? | Jon VI

--metaphorical knives at feigning neutrality regarding his sister

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold... | Jon XIII

--literal knives from breaking that neutrality to save her

[thetriumphantpanda]

Drabble/One shot request!

I read it and instantly saw this as Frankie smut scenario…

“you don’t have to be gentle. i won’t break”.

Frankie’s first time with a new lady friend. He really likes her, so he’s being softer than usual, gentle. She really likes him too but can tell there’s a darker side to him under the surface and she wants to test the waters…

ANON YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I'VE BEEN SITTING ON THIS... I love this request so thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you like it and that I did your idea justice.

Pairing | Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count | 2.3K

Warnings | Unprotected PiV sex, fingering, spanking and biting but nothing else I can think of apart from puppy dog Frankie.

ENJOY ALL.

Frankie was nervous, there was no beating around the bush with that one. He’d changed his shirt twice and had needed to comb his hair more times than he’d care to admit because he couldn’t stop fussing with it. Never had this problem wearing a hat, but Benny had told him that if he’d turned up to your house wearing a baseball cap it would be lights out for his chances with you. 

He was early, so he’d been sat in his truck a few doors down so you hadn’t noticed he was early, glancing at his watch, willing the time to move faster so he could knock on your door and see you again. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked someone as much as you. He’d seen you at the bar and if it hadn’t been for Benny and his insistence that he walk up and ask for your number he wouldn’t be here. You’d been casually dating for a few months; he would take you out on walks and he knew he’d fallen for you when he’d taken you to the diner in town after a heavy night of drinking with his friends and watched you demolish a bacon cheeseburger and a peanut butter milkshake without worrying about what he would think of the sauce on your face. 

You’d invited him to your place for the first time, coaxing him with the promise of dinner and cold beer, he’d seen in your eyes that there was promise of something else too which was the reason he was so nervous. He couldn’t remember that last time he’d touched a woman, at least not one he liked as much as you. 

He rang the bell at 6:58, thinking that was as close to 7pm that he could be before he talked himself out of it. You opened the door with an apron wrapped around your body, covered in all sorts of ingredients, he could make out flour, tomato and what looked like gravy spattered amongst other things he couldn’t place. 

“Hello.” You were breathless and your hair was falling out of the low bun at the back of your head to frame your face. 

“Hello,” Frankie replied, dipping to press a kiss to your lips as casually as he could muster, “You’ve got a little something right here.” He reached out and dragged his thumb across your cheek, pulling his fingers to your eyeline to show you the flour he’d wiped off. 

“If that’s all that’s on my face I’ve done a good job, you should see the state of the kitchen,” You laughed, moving to let him into your home, “It looks like a literal bombsite so I apologise.” 

“No need to apologise when it smells so good,” He countered, mouth already watering at the smells that were emanating from the kitchen, “What did you make?” 

“Lasagna,” You grinned, “And apple pie for dessert.” 

He let out a groan, letting his stomach do the talking for him, “You have no idea how good this sounds.”  “Sit down then, it’s almost ready.” 

***

Dinner was long forgotten, leftovers packaged up and put away with the dishes and pans soaking in the sink. You had a glass of wine in hand and were lounging on the couch, legs draped across Frankie’s lap as he sipped on a beer, absentmindedly running his fingers along the skin of your legs, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, turning to you. 

“No,” You smirked, “Just excited.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smirks back, raising an eyebrow right back at you, “What do you have to be excited about?” 

You giggled, “I’ve just been sat here thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me.” 

“Well then…” He trailed off, setting his beer on the coffee table as you did the same, settling back into your lounging position. 

He moved swiftly, settling himself between your legs before he crashed his lips to yours. You’d kissed this man many times before, the first time after he’d bought you a few drinks at the bar and then later that night when he’d driven you home and pressed you up against your front door. Then there was the time on the beach after your second date where you’d ended up rolling in the sand together for what felt like hours. This time though there was something different, the heat of knowing what was coming was settling in your bones just as much as it was in Frankie’s, and it was thrilling. 

The man was kissing you like he was starved, flicking his tongue into your mouth to entwine with your own and you could taste the beer on his mouth, mixed with the gum he’d popped after dinner along with someone else that was only him. It was intoxicating and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down flush with your body whilst grinding your hips up into him. 

He dragged his lips from yours and worked them down over your jaw, peppering your skin with barely-there brushes of his mouth. His tongue would lick at the spot on your neck where he would suck gently, you found yourself silently begging he would do it harder so to mark you. You wanted everyone to know you belonged to this man, but his kisses remained feather light as he dragged them further down to your collarbones as his hands ran up the bare skin of your side under your shirt. 

“Frankie,” You mumbled, “Take me to bed.” 

He pulled back, sitting back on his knees to look at you. His skin was flushed in much the same way you thought yours was, heat prickling over his face and his hair was sticking up in curls where you’d run your hands through it. 

“Up the stairs, first door on the left.” 

He stood, scooping you up, one arm under your knees and the other wrapped around the small of your back as your wrapped securely around his neck to keep you upright. He followed your directions and within moments you were led on your back on your bed with him settled right back between your thighs with his lips on yours. 

Frankie’s hands worked up your shirt and you sat up lightly to let him drag it off your body, reveling in the way he stared at you when you led back down like someone viewing the most beautiful piece of art they’d ever seen. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” He mumbled from his lips as they dragged a path down your neck, peppering kisses along the swell of your breast where your bra was sat. 

He slowly dragged the straps down before expertly moving his hands behind your back to undo it and throw it to the floor. His lips were around your nipple before you knew what was happening, eliciting a groan from your mouth and his hand gave attention to the other. He swapped over a few times, which his mouths attention with his hands before he was trailing his mouth down your stomach to the waistband of your skirt. He dragged it off with his hands, stopping to shed himself of his own upper layers before settling his body on the bed next to you. 

His arm slipped under your head to prop himself up over you, the other hand heading straight for the lace covering your pussy, which by this time was screaming for its own attention. He placed a kiss to your lips as his fingers ghosted across your panties, pulling away for you to see the dark heat in his eyes as he realized they were wet. So, there was something else underneath the gentle kisses, you thought to yourself as you winked at him. 

“See how worked up you get me?” You breathed, letting your hand fall to his jeans where it was clear this was working him up just as much as you. 

“Hermosa,” He groaned as you rubbed him through his jeans, “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” 

You pulled him back to your mouth to kiss him, opening your mouth up to him as he licked into your mouth, all whilst dipping his hand under your panties. The touch of his fingers on your clit, even if was momentary, was electric. Your hips bucked up into his hand as your mouth left his in favour of a moan. His fingers travelled down to your slick entrance, gathering the wetness that was pooling and then dragging it back up to your clit where he began rubbing gentle circles around it. 

You thought you were going to fall apart immediately, especially when his lips began pressing behind your ear, his groans of approval at your arousal sending shockwaves down your spine and making goosebumps appear on your skin. 

“Frankie please,” You moaned, “I need you inside of me.” 

You could feel his smirk against your skin as he moved back between your thighs, making a show of unzipping his jeans and taking them off and then he was there in front of you in all his glory. Scars from his time in the forces scattered his body and the softness of his older age was apparent around his middle, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make you his. He gently moved your panties down your legs, throwing them into the pile on the floor before spreading your legs, using one of his hands to jerk his own cock as his other went back to rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. 

“You ready for me, querida?” He asked, moving slightly to line his cock to your weeping pussy. 

“Please,” You begged, “I have never wanted something so much in all my time.” 

He smiled, settling one hand on the bed next to your head as the other helped his cock to slip inside of you. The stretch of your pussy was delightful, you’d never had someone this big before, but the wetness seeping from you made it easy for him to slip all the way inside. The look of ecstasy on his face was enough to make your tummy flutter. You were doing that to him. 

He started thrusting into you, his movements slow and gentle but you wanted more, and you knew he could give you more. You let him continue like this for a moment, your hands squeezing the muscles of his biceps as he moved into you slowly. 

“Frankie,” You moaned, his eyes snapping up from looking at his cock slipping inside you to look you in the eye, “You don’t have to be gentle; I won’t break.”

It was like something snapped inside of him at your words. His chest was heaving and that darkness that had flashed in his eyes earlier was back, along with a grin across his lips. Like you weight nothing at all, you were flipped onto your front, his hands pulling you back towards him by your hips. He was back inside you in seconds and the change of position was perfection. 

He was fucking into you now, the slow and gentle thrusts from earlier were gone, instead replaced by a bruising pace of his hips snapping against your ass. You let out a surprised squeal when one of his hands came down and spanked you. 

“You liked that didn’t you?” He asked, his words coming out breathlessly, “Felt your pussy clench around me, hermosa.” 

“Do it again.” You ordered, slipping one of your hands between your legs to finger at your own clit. 

He did it again, bringing his hand down to your other cheek before using his fingers to massage the spot, god you hoped you bruised in the morning. 

“I’m not… I can’t… fuck, querida I’m close.” He admitted. 

“Lean over me,” You asked, “Put your skin on me and bite my neck, Frankie.” 

Like the diligent lover he had proved himself to be he did what you asked, laying his front over your back whilst still managing to keep his cock buried inside you, slipping in and out with that delicious friction you knew you would be addicted to from this day forward. He latched his mouth on your neck, sucking hard and the pain, the feeling of his breath on your skin, his cock pumping in and out of you and your fingers rubbing at your clit all came together at once to release the white heat of your climax. You were crying out his name and clenching your pussy around him and he was licking at the mark he’d left on your neck. 

“Fucking hell,” He breathed into your ear, “Querida I’m going to cum, where do you want me?” He asked with a sense of urgency. 

“Fuck Frankie,” You cried out, “Inside me please, god I need to feel you cum inside me.” 

Within seconds he was doing just that, stilling himself as his spilled his seed deep into your pussy with a groan of your name into your ear. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he pulled out of you, the last bit of support keeping you upright was gone, allowing you to collapse face first into the mattress. He collapsed next to you, pulling you into his body, the two of you slick with sweat but without a care in the world. 

“I have to get up and clean myself.” You mumbled into his chest. 

“In a minute, let me have this moment for now.” 

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his neck, “If I get a UTI it’s entirely your fault, Morales.” 

He chuckled back but made no effort to let you go, “Was that… okay?” He asked quietly, his fingers running light circles over the skin of your shoulder. 

You looked up at him, using one of your hands to pull his face to your lips to kiss him, “Frankie, it was the best I’ve ever had.” You replied honestly. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” 

“You didn’t hurt me, besides, if you did, I asked for it,” You planted another soft kiss to his lips, “You could never hurt me.” 

[cherrari]

TRICK OR TREAT MINAH do you have more chalex <3

they're lesbians. surprise

This isn’t the first time they’re being corralled pre-race into some silly PR stuff, and it won’t be the last. Alex expected it the moment she read the headline saying Charles would be moving up that year. Two girls on the grid—two talented girls on the grid—was unprecedented. Hell, if Alex were a marketing intern, she’d milk the shit out of them too.

That doesn’t mean she has to like it, though.

“You’ll be playing against—oh, here they are now,” the staff member begins, and is promptly cut off by Charles’ gasp.

“Antonio!” she shouts, clapping Antonio on the back. He flushes slightly, but manages to get a greeting out before she launches into hasty Italian. 

Behind him, Artur waves at Alex. Alex waves back.

“Ferrari drivers, am I right?” Alex jokes. Artur only makes a noncommittal noise back, his eyes shifting back towards Charles every few seconds.

Alex can’t help but snort at how obvious he is. The staff member waits patiently off to the side as Antonio and Charles chat; Charles is loud, all dramatic hand movements as she discusses what Alex imagines is her earlier wall tap, judging by the sound effects she makes. Antonio laughs at that, which makes Charles laugh even more, and something in Alex sours.

“The game?” Alex prompts, nodding to the staff member.

“Oh, yes!” She stands up straighter and herds Charles back in Alex’s direction. Charles falls into line without complaint, and Alex soon feels Charles’ eyes bearing into the side of her face again. “Okay, so as I was saying, you guys will be split into teams and…”

The game is simple. She’ll ask them a question and they’ll have to write down their answer. Whichever pair has the most matching answers wins. 

Charles’ face scrunches up. “We are going to do terribly,” she grumbles. 

“No faith,” Alex says, but she privately agrees. She doesn’t know how much she and Charles have in common, other than being girls, but it can’t be much. 

“If only our partners were swapped,” Charles laments, picking up her whiteboard.

“You each need to pick a team name too,” the staff member says. “Pick while I set up the camera.”

Alex is content to let Charles decide, and decide Charles does: “Let’s be… Team Guys.” 

“Team Guys,” Alex repeats in a deadpan. “Is that a French word?”

“No, no. Like, Team Men. Guys,” Charles repeats, with emphasis, as if that makes any more sense. “Since we both have guy names. It is about the irony.”

Alex’s head whips around, and she makes proper eye contact with Charles for the first time that day. “Excuse me, I do not have a guy name,” she huffs. “And neither do you.” 

Charles’ real name is Charlotte. Everyone knows this. The Sharl comes from the first syllable. It’s easier to say in a hurry.

Charles pouts, hugging the whiteboard to her chest. “My male cousin is named Alex, you know,” she argues.

“Alexander, probably.”

“No,” Charles says, stubborn. “Just Alex.”

Alex rolls her eyes. The last thing she needs—or wants, really—is to draw more attention to how she’s not a guy. It’s an objectively stupid name anyway. Everybody already knows why they’ve been paired up.

“No, Charles.” She uses the name to soften the blow, but keeps her voice firm. “Let’s just use… I don’t know. Team Art.”

“Team Art,” Charles repeats, like the very word makes her sick. “Fine.”

She’s sulky for all of five seconds before the staff member calls for their attention and she brightens back up. Alex finds it impressive how quickly she can move on from disappointment. She’s never seen her sad for more than a few minutes.

To Alex’s private relief, Artur and Antonio pick Team Trident as their name. It sounds better because of the alliteration, but it’s objectively just as uninspired as theirs.

The game proceeds smoothly enough, and by that, she means it goes exactly how Charles predicted: terribly.

Favourite season to race in? Charles says spring. Alex says fall.

Favourite Italian food? Charles says pizza. Alex says pasta.

Favourite track on the calendar this year? Charles says Monza. Alex says Silverstone. To be fair, they would’ve never agreed on this one even if they were given a thousand retries.

The end result is a total demolition. 9-2 in the Trident’s favour. Charles buries her head in her hands when she sees the prize: a signed Sebastian Vettel driver card. Originals, not photocopies.

“You’re going to be driving with him in a few years anyway,” Alex consoles her, patting her back. “I’m sure he’ll give you all the signed driver cards you want then.”

“I did not want it for me,” Charles huffs, then adds matter-of-factly, “My brother is also a Ferrari fan, you know.”

“Of course,” Alex says, and notes how unsubtly Charles dodged the rest of her comment.

[aclickbaittitle]

Helloo,

So I am curious. Has anyone listen to Eart(h) FM podcast? And if so, what did you liked about it?

I know its only one Ep and a trailer, but something in those 30+ minutes of audio most be interesting.

[koetblr]

How much to light up my star again, and rewire all my thoughts?

[garadinervi]

Bill Fontana, Landscape Sculpture With Fog Horns, (LP/Vinyl), 209034X, KQED-FM, 1982 [midcenturyclassical]

Design: Bill Anton, Dennis Favello

[syn4k]

when it comes to ghosts and demons and hauntings on the mortal plane, i'm a skeptic by default. i grew up not really interacting with ghost stories- i was the sort of kid who read books about science for fun -and as a result the scare stories never really did more than scare me for a short amount of time.

however, despite that, i'm still enraptured by the intersection between folk tales like these and modern science, which often have a reasonable explanation for them.

your house is haunted and you feel on edge constantly? well, you just installed a new AC last week and it's been emanating these signals that you can't hear but your body can feel and it scares the shit out of you because back when humans were living in jungles hiding from large beasts we evolved to hear things that we couldnt really hear to keep ourselves safe. that sort of stuff. that's what gets me.

because these tiny subsonic noises that we evolved to hear? maybe the wind is blowing weird through a crack in the wall in the haunted house. maybe the foundation is a little shaky. maybe that cryptid in the woods you saw at 2am was just a deer that had chronic wasting disease and/or rabies (poor thing).

and it's so easy with the supernatural to immediately assume ill intent and get spooked, but those ghosts that wail in the night? maybe they needed their bones to be put to rest. i think most of them are nice but if i had to be stuck in the same place for 200 years with my fuckin skeleton in the wrong place i think i'd have a short temper too!

i hold that everything has a logical explanation even if we don't know what that explanation might be but i will listen to your campfire stories nonetheless because that's just what humans do. and i think that's so cool

[daisy-room]

Maybe the Kita fic won’t get published 🧍🏻‍♀️

[kindahoping4forever]

AshtonIrwin: Straight To Your Heart is yours. Music video and so much more coming tomorrow at 10am PT! Tune in at the link at 9:45am and we'll hang out to celebrate the release ❤️

------------

Straight To Your Heart Pre-Premiere Live Chat Link

Straight To Your Heart (Official Music Video) Premiere link

Straight To Your Heart (Official Audio) - YouTube

Straight To Your Heart - Listen on Spotify

Straight To Your Heart - All Platform Links

Blood On The Drums - All Platform Presave Links

[fadelbison]

Khaotung cuts himself off again. He can’t say it like this. Not on a whim, not in the middle of one of their not-fight fights. He doesn’t even know what road they’re driving through right now or where they’re even going. He’s always imagined it to be a starlit night, maybe by the water, certainly somewhere romantic, somewhere he can take First’s hand. Rome, he thinks. Maybe, Paris. Somewhere so beautiful that they’re not worth a second glance.

Are people going to think *I think* Paris is romantic when they read this? (as opposed to just my character Khaotung). I am such a Paris anti that it's genuinely kept me awake at night. I don't know any romantic cities in Europe lol. I might just replace it with Reykjavik since they're so obssessed with the Northern Lights. I even had it as Istanbul at one point, during which I realized that holding hands and kissing there might be a slight logistical challenge for FK but who knows maybe Khaotung is sheltered from the realities of Erdoğan.

[balloon-garden]

✧.•°{Lucemon FM × GN!Reader}°•.✧

✧Short fic/Fluff✧

✧.•°🎡°•.✧

Lucemon watched his lover scramble around their house, grabbing the things they needed to go out.

The digimon, with how powerful he was, was in a human disguise; still similar to his true form just a lot smaller- still tall by human standards, 6'6- He wore a white turtle neck, black and gold glasses and black jeans with golden seams, as well as a black jacket and white gloves. Lucemon lacked his wings and face markings aside from lipstick and a bit of purple eye shadow. He looked rather human, simple but a bit fancy.

"Are you ready now?" He questioned with a slight smile, amused, and they rushed to his side. Their arm wrapped around his as they nodded.

Finally the two were out of the house and heading towards the sidewalk. No real plans, just out to walk, explore, chat, and most importantly spend time with each other. It was a beautiful day out, the start of Summer. The sky was a bright blue and fresh greens were all around. Simple, but beautiful.

Lucemon looked down at his lover who had started talking about whatever came to mind. He listened, admiring their looks and their voice- That voice was most comforting to him. Times like these were such an odd mix of feelings. Love and bitterness. He loved his partner, he loved their world, and he loved the digital world with all of the digimon. But he still held resentment for whoever created all of this pain and violence—

"Did you ever have a partner? Not like, ya know- Like, a fighting buddy?" His eyes grew wide, snapped out of his thoughts as the question surprised him. All of what he'd been thinking had simply disappeared now. "Oh, ehm, no, I have never."

"Why not?" His lover asked, curiosity glowing in their eyes, making him smile. "It's a long story, my love," he smiled gently down at them. They leaned more into him, "Please tell me? I want to know." They looked up, giving him pleading eyes, getting a small laugh from him. "Well, I suppose I was the top Demon lord, I'd control most of the other lords. Before that, I was the protector of the Digimon...I wanted to protect them all, but bitterness and hatred took over...So much death, pain, and fear...all of that can be fixed in my world. All of it could have changed but no one wanted it to change. So when I wasn't allowed to, I tried forcing it." He paused for a moment, sighing a bit.

"It only created hatred, bitterness and ignorance in me. It made it hard to get close to me, including all of the demon lords. I suppose I still have my walls up, making it difficult to trust someone as much as a partner. I only truly believed in myself and that I didn't need anyone." He had looked forward as he spoke, gaze turning hard and steely for a moment, before looking back at them. He studied their face, their emotions were hard to read aside from sadness and attentiveness.

"Do you think you'll ever have one?" They finally asked, their tone was sweet and caring. The digimon smiled in response, "Someday." He loved the thought of trusting his lover with his life as well as protecting them. His eyes were so loving it made his lover soft. "I do admit, I'm not sure how it happens or works," which was true, but it made his partner grin and laugh a bit.

Their smile got a small grin out of him in response. He kissed their cheek, "I love you," spoken so softly. "I love you too," they chirped as they continued their walk, talking the whole time.

✧.•°{Links}°•.✧

✧Introductions: {×}

✧Rules/Fandoms: {×}

✧Masterlist: {×}

✧Other: {×}

✧.•°{Please consider donating}°•.✧

[fauvester]

licherally have 2 pts. 1 on room air and here for comfort, one is probably literally fine. attending got signout and went directly to bed

[nani-nonny]

The urge to write a different idea rather than finishing my current works grows stronger by the minute

[cherrari]

you've done fxf charlando, and now fxm charlando, where is mxm charlando

i had an idea for a fic where lando is like a super late presenting omega and charles refuses to believe lando isn't faking it so he goes to check on him and then they fuck... but we'll see if it amounts to anything

[theogonize]

mdni. nsfw content ahead.

౨ৎㅤ۫ niya. 19. bisexual. she/her/they. the new mrs. donaldson. wilson's devoted side chick. lana del rey raised me. new hyperfixation every tuesday.

currently obsessing over: house m.d.

masterlist ㅜㅁㅜ

ao3

(everything i write is pure self indulgence the way god intended fanfiction to be)