#one day ill try finishing this animation!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellishjoel · 8 months

Text

playing hooky

9.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter l Next Chapter

summary: Frankie calls in sick for his shift. You simply must investigate.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of reader previously being on her period, smoking w33d, getting h!gh, swearing, pet names (angel, princess, etc.), handjob if you squint, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v, h!gh sex, aftercare, tangled feelings/messy emotions, sitcom vibes

A/N: tune in next time for a special halloween episode of Table for Two!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

“We’re not at the diner right now, y’know? We can,” he pauses to find the right words, seeming to get lost in the beautiful hue of your eyes. “We can take things slow. Wanna take my time with you.”

You purse your lips as you scribble another drawing on your order pad. You’re sitting at one of the empty barstools at the counter, one leg lazily swinging back and forth while the other is brought up under you.

“You’re gonna get hip dysplasia.” Carla, your sarcastic manager, hums as she passes you. She playfully smacks you with her own order pad before she settles down beside you, a loud and tired sigh leaving her ruby-red lips. She rolls her swollen ankles, a side effect of being on her feet all day. A side effect of being alive.

Your eyes lightly screw together, eyebrows knitting in curiosity. “I thought only animals get hip dysplasia.” You trail off and watch her sit with slight confusion. She parts her lips and takes a breath before her face contorts in thought.

Finally, Carla reemerged with a new confidence. “No, baby, because my cousin- my second cousin,” she illustrates all of this with her hands. “They were born with it! I swear, look it up.”

You stifle a giggle before you both hover over your phone in search of the truth via Google. That’s when you clock the time.

Your head swivels to the wall clock and confirms it’s half an hour past five in the evening. “No Frankie tonight?” You ask, eyes still attentive to your phone as you attempt to try and hide any obvious interest or concern. Where the hell was he?

Carla eyed you up and down. Since when did you start caring if Frankie showed up for his shifts or not? She decides not to press it, clearing her throat as she moves off her barstool once she hears the doorbell chime, a new customer sauntering in.

“Just said he was under the weather. And we don’t need another sick line cook, that’s for damn sure. Everyone would be coughin’ and sneezin’ over their undercooked bacon and runny, nasty eggs.” She said with a little umph at the end for distaste.

You sigh and nibble on your thumbnail.

Frankie was a bit of an ass, but he made the shifts go by faster. Yes, even before you started fooling around, he was entertaining.

Let’s see, there was the night he tried to see how many coffee cups he could stack and if he could make a tower to the ceiling - he tried this multiple times, and each attempt left glazed ceramic shards everywhere, to which Carla made him sweep up.

There was another time the diner needed supplies, and Rudy, the owner’s son, sent you and Frankie on an errand run. He pushed you in the cart through nearly the entire store, in search of toilet paper and paper towels, dish soap, and other amenities. Frankie bought you a Redbull at the end of it.

Now, more recently, Frankie fucking pavloved you! Like a damn dog! Every time you worked a shift, you got ferociously horny. You had gotten so used to clocking in, working for a bit, then getting your needs met. And now that you had finished serving time being on your period, you were needy for what you missed while you were surfing the crimson wave.

Your foot, more anxiously now, taps against the metal stand of the barstool you were sitting on, huffing in annoyance hearing that Frankie was ill. The pit in your stomach was already coiling, searching for a release that just wouldn’t be satisfied tonight. Or would it?

You’re not in the back kitchen as much as everyone else, but as the end of your shift wound down and it was nearly ten o’clock, you decided to piece together a panini and a side of fries for Frankie. You thought about how he learned you weren’t feeling good just last week, and he knew how far a simple meal went to make you feel better. Maybe you could do the same for him. And that was it. You swear there were no ulterior motives. Just a nice coworker bringing a bite to eat.

You yank your phone from your uniform. Your fingerprints smear your phone screen with grease from the fries.

text me your address if you’re still up

frankie (work) Huh?

You have to will yourself not to roll your eyes.

read the first message again and ask me if you’re still confused

frankie (work) Okay sassy pants 194 Rivercrest Apartments #501

His stupid reply leaves a broken, twitchy smile on the right side of your mouth. Stupid asshole.

Once the restaurant closes, your clunky car takes you across town to Frankie’s apartment. Your gleamy, tired vision catches the streaks from passing cars and street lamps. You pull into a visitor parking spot and let out a disgruntled sigh as you sit in silence, waiting in your idling car.

A weird part of you is nervous. Overthinking. Was this taking it too far, helping him out while he’s sick?

You push aside any nerves and force yourself out of the car, a death grip on the doggy bag of food you had packed him. The evening Texas air tickles your bare legs, trying to adjust your uniform under your jacket after it got smushed around in the car. You buzz his number before you hear the entrance’s lock click, allowing you in.

Glancing around for an elevator is hopeless. The entrance leads you straight to a set of stairs, and you clench your jaw in annoyance. God dammit. You were not a woman who prayed to the cardio gods.

Your lungs feel strained, and your feet ache, desperate to sit down after your shift and the mild hike up to Frankie’s apartment. You rap your knuckles against his door in disdain, lips parted with a few light pants for breath as you wait. The door had a few random dents and marks, obvious trails of someone moving items in and out of the apartment over time. The numbers on his door were crooked, the paint chipped. Did he have to live in such a sketchy place? It looked like the birthplace of tetanus.

There were a few heavy footsteps on the other side before the door jangled open. And a very healthy, Frankie opened the door. Your face fell, and your eyebrows furrowed. A heavy whiff of weed smacked you in the face, and you swore it nearly gave you a contact high, even from the hallway.

Frankie was all too happy to see you here. You drove all the way to his apartment just to see him. His face was dripping in a smirky grin. He barely fit through the door frame, his large broad shoulders and tall stature filled the entire rectangular entrance. He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against his door. He was perfectly fucking fine.

“Hey, princess. Surprised to see you-”

Your lips purse and your eyes screw tight as you smack him with his bag of food. “What the hell-” smack, “is wrong with you! Fuckin-” smack, “asshole!”

He’s slow to defend himself at first, letting you exhaust your hits as you fist the brown paper bag in annoyance. Finally on the last hit, he swipes the bag from your hand and sighs. He’s trying to dial down his stupid smirk, but it ends up turning into this stomach-twisting, sweet smile.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and chew on the inside of your cheek. “Carla told me you were sick.”

“I am sick.” Frankie playfully defended, standing straight and shrugging his shoulders with a half-innocent smile. “Sick.. and tired of working.” He laughs at his own joke, and you bite back a smile. Such a fucking dork.

You’re at a weird standoff outside of his apartment. It’s like he’s holding your invitation to enter over your head, and out of your reach. He wants you to ask. You want him to ask. You’re both so goddamn stubborn. You cross your arms and stand straight, eyeing him down.

Frankie rolls his eyes, his smile breaking into a larger one as he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. “So fuckin’ difficult.” You hide your smile as your face lightly glides against his chest, unintentionally inhaling his scent. By the looks of his hair, he was fresh from a shower.

Frankie closes the door behind you, and his front brushes against your back as you stand in the tiny entrance hallway to his apartment. Music was playing deeper inside.

His hands gently settle themselves on your arms, slowly coasting his warmth up and down your goosebump-covered skin. You inhale slowly, your back lightly resting back against his front. He was so easy to sink into. But then you remember how he bailed on work today, and you jut your elbow into his gut. He lets out a puff of air at the force you hit him with.

“You’re such an ass ditching work. Ditching Carla.” You say as you step away from him and invite yourself further in, exiting the dark hallway and working your way further into the apartment. “We had to make do-it-all Paul step into the kitchen. Do you know how terrifying that is? Such a dick, Frankie.”

“And you’re so sweet for bringin’ me food.” You hear him rifle through the paper bag, digging out his packaged food, and seeing him smile at the contents. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have.” He brushes past you and towards the kitchen while you stand in the living room.

You didn’t concern yourself much with Frankie up until recent events, it was odd to see his evil lair. Okay, he wasn’t evil, but you know what I mean. You take in as many important details as you can while you slowly peel off your jacket and toss it on his couch.

It’s quaint, really. He has no other furniture in the living room besides a couch, which you feel is by design. It sits perfectly opposite his mounted flatscreen. The walls are plain beige but are decorated with band and movie posters. You admire one that was purposely framed, unlike the others, with signatures. You didn’t recognize the band, but by their look, they seemed like an 80s rocker group.

Below his flatscreen was an impressive vinyl collection, a record spins, and you recognize it as the melody you initially heard upon entering. It was serene, jazzy almost.

“This is what you listen to when you’re alone?” You tease, kneeling down and flicking through a few album covers to see his taste. It was expansive, to say the least. There were only a fair few that you recognized. TOTO, ABBA, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, Metallica, a little Van Halen, and a whole lot of The Beatles.

Frankie sucks the salt from the fries off his fingers, seeing he’s already munched on half his panini. “It’s something I listen to when I’m stoned.” He half-jokes, a slight smile on his face. So that’s what he’s been up to.

“You called in so you could lay around your apartment and get high all day?” Your tone is playfully judging, but he gives you a proud nod, not a care in the world behind those slightly glazed eyes.

“I didn’t really lay around all day.” His tone is softer since you’re both so close. He’s standing just to the right of where you’re kneeling down, your head could lay against his thigh if you wanted. “I was trying out some new recipes and shit.” He mutters as he points a thumb behind him and to the kitchen. You glance up and notice his pretty curls in the light. You don’t often see him without his hat or his bandana. Come to think of it, you don’t really see him outside of his yellow-stained apron.

Your eyes slowly took Frankie in, seeing him casually for the first time outside of work was startling. He was big. Tall and broad, with squishy thighs and a soft tummy, strong arms, and defined biceps. He was comfortably relaxing in a pair of black basketball shorts that landed just above his knees, eyeing a few tattoos by the hem. On his upper half was a tattered, well-loved Lakers shirt with a small tear at the shoulder, which has since been sewn closed. He had a little bracelet on, one of those leather brown ones that twisted around his wrist, accompanied by a spherical, multicolor beaded one.

Your eyes linger for a hair too long, and now he’s already smirking at you. “Like what you see, princess?” God, that stupid fucking nickname needed a break. Heat shoots up your spine nonetheless, and you have trouble staring daggers at him like you usually would.

You huff a breath through your nose and stand up on your feet, raising your eyebrow at him. “What do you mean you trying new recipes? You can actually cook?” It sounds rude and sarcastic, but you thought Frankie just goofed around at work and cooked for the cash, not as a hobby. You slowly make your way past him, eyeing his kitchen in the process.

There are recipe books, honest to god recipe books. Big ones, small ones. Different categories of food outlined on the covers and spines. And his kitchen was a chaotic mess, with multiple cutting boards of varying sizes across his already limited counter space. There were bright-colored vegetables cut up and diced, the scraps having been tossed in a spare plastic bag sitting on the sidelines. There was an open bottle of soy sauce and another for sesame oil, a little tin of cornstarch, and diced chicken sizzling in oil on a frying pan.

You take a few steps in further, your sneakers landing on linoleum as you really smell what’s simmering in a large skillet. Mushrooms, bell peppers, green onions, broccoli, and peas are cooking in a thick sauce, coating them amidst freshly minced garlic onion. Your lips part as you inhale, and you can’t believe it. You don’t even know what it is, but it smells heavenly.

You finally have to ask, because hunger is carving a hole in your stomach. “What are you making?”

Frankie parks his hands on his hips and looks at you with knitted eyebrows. “What? You’ve never had stir fry before?”

You purse your lips and reach for the spatula, looking to Frankie for reassurance, to which he nods his head. Go for it.

You smile as the vegetables sizzle once you push them around on the pan, relishing in the attention as you allow the other less glazed vegetables to catch some heat from the burner. Frankie hums, like he’s debating something, like he’s learned something from his little experimentation. He reaches past you, his front brushing against your shoulders as he reaches around you and adds a little brownish-amber liquid to the pan. It sizzles, splashes, and dances across the different vegetables, which makes you grin.

You were never big into cooking, especially since you started working at Tommy’s Diner. You’ve seen enough grease to last a lifetime. You were fine settling in on the couch with a bowl of cereal and a glass of cheap wine. You saved making extravagant dishes for when you had a date over, and even then, that was risky.

But there was something about Frankie actually knowing how to cook cuisine that you liked. “I didn’t know you knew how to make dishes besides burgers and fries.”

He sneers and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling the entire time and lets you continue slowly shifting the vegetables around, watching as the glaze sizzles. “I didn’t know you cared enough about me to visit me at my apartment. We’re both a bit surprised tonight.” This was your worst nightmare.

“I only came here under the impression that you were sick-”

“So you came to my aid?”

“Psh,” You huff, “You wish. But no.” You insist more forcefully, setting the spatula down and turning to face Frankie, who is all too close to you. You lose a lot of your angry traction as his hand finds your hip, feeling his fingers flip to the stovetop’s burner switch to a lower setting.

His hands navigate you away from the oven, your back flushed against his counter now. His eyes trail you, grazing over your body as his hips now plant you in one spot. You swallowed a lump in your throat, your still resisting hands planting against his chest. You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

You can’t explain why your fingers twitch and start to clutch his shirt, pulling him a little closer. Stupid Frankie with his goading smirk, bringing his forehead down against yours. It was so hot in his kitchen, in the middle of summer. You feel a bead of sweat sprout behind your ear and lightly glide down your neck as you flutter your eyes closed. It wasn’t often you felt your power to resist him rendered useless, but tonight you felt like he had a quite literal home-field advantage.

“You want me to stop?” He asks, voice low and lust-drenched. His leg parts purposely between yours, jutting them open and spreading what was his.

Your throat is closed off, the lack of air draining from your busy head. “I..” Your words fall off, distracted by something scampering through the living room.

“Do you have a cat?” Your eyes light up as you slink past Frankie. He found your stray of attention a bit adorable, despite being given a slight case of blue balls.

You carefully padded out of the kitchen and into the living room, using the excuse to slip off your sneakers at the entrance. The small orange cat had curled up onto Frankie’s couch by your tossed jacket from earlier, forming a perfect circle amongst all of its tangerine fluff. Its eyes were closed serenely, absent of a new presence. It was fucking adorable, in short.

Frankie was still flummoxed in the kitchen, adding the cooked chicken into the stir fry before turning the burner off and putting his masterpiece aside. “That’s Leo.” He announces, Frankie’s voice carrying annoyance that he lost a sure thing in the kitchen. Now you were cooing over his cat.

He settles two bowls on the counter and adds the stir fry to each, a few splashes of the sauce splattering around the rim of the bowl. With two forks randomly stabbed into the piles of food, he walks one of them out to you. “Could have eaten this whole thing by myself.”

You smile, taking the offering and humming as you flop on the couch, the orange tabby finally peeking its eyes open. “I don’t doubt that, so thanks for sharing.” You recognize how he had eaten the panini and fries, and he was still excited over the stir fry. Poor guy probably had the munchies like crazy.

With the kitty taking up one of Frankie’s couch cushions, he’s forced on the end with you in the middle. He sets his food aside on a spare side table and reaches for a small pipe, your breath pausing at the sight. “You want a hit?” He asks.

His face glows orange as he flicks on the lighter, spreading the flame over the green, now black, substance in the tiny bowl. He inhales, and you watch in mystification as he takes in the smoke filtering through. Your heart thumps harder in your chest, the right side of your mouth twitching up in a sly smirk.

Let’s smoke weed with Frankie Morales tonight.

He lets out a labored breath, the smoke flying loosely in the air and creating hazy grey circles that flood the ceiling before disappearing altogether. The stench fills the small apartment rather quickly.

“I get really weird dreams after I smoke.” You whisper, biting down on your lower lip as you glance down at the pipe he’s holding, a small glow still coming from the weed.

“It’s still lit if you want some.” His voice is low from smoking, and you have to clench your thighs closer together. Damn this stupid uniform, you wished you would have brought a change of clothes so you’d at least be comfy eating stir fry, petting his cat, and getting stoned with him.

He raises the piece in an offering, and you look to him for one last look of reassurance. It’s polite to be offered free weed, especially since he’s the one who paid for it. He gives you a nod and looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Are you crazy? If you want it, take it.

So you do. And you smoke it. And you pat yourself on the back to do so without coughing. It’s a small hit, but you don’t need much, your brain already feels like it’s as light as a cloud, dancing in slow motion. You giggle by accident.

Frankie lets out a sputter of laughter, watching you get high with him is a bit comical. “Princess knows how to smoke. Kudos.”

You let out a puff of laughter through your nose and grab your warm bowl of stir fry, stabbing into a green pepper. “Shut up, Frankie.”

He ends up putting on a show you both agree on, something comical that makes you both laugh your high asses off. You eat the stir fry and almost forget Frankie is the one who made it. It was delicious, you ate everything down the the finely chopped green onions.

You both shared another hit, and you felt like you were loosening up. Any need to hold onto control slipped through your fingers. Any issues you had been dealing with drifted away. And you realized how stupidly happy you were to be beside Frankie. Trying to do anything of actual initiative went out the window after your second hit. You both found yourselves on the floor of Frankie's room, sat side by side, heads resting on the edge of his bed as you both stared up at the ceiling and spoke gibberish.

“Aliens?” He asks, your thighs brushing.

“Of course.” You hum, slowly blinking in a gentle haze. “Ghosts?”

He sighs and takes a long time to answer, which apparently offends you because you snap your head up and look at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. If you believe in aliens, you have to believe in ghosts.” You argue as you stare at his fan.

He lets out a throaty groan, closes his eyes, and runs his hands down his face. His curls are pretty. They haven’t been run through a million times yet or smothered by a bandana or hat.

“I think… I do believe in ghosts. I just don’t want them to bother me.” He says, a weak smile on his face.

“What? Like you’re afraid to be haunted?” Your head lays back on the bed but rolls over, watching his profile while he continues to look up absentmindedly at the ceiling.

He’s silent for far too long. Finally, he rolls his head over to face you, your noses lightly brushing. He’s so close that looking at him feels a bit cross-eyed.

“Wait- what? Sorry.” He finally says with a broken, short laugh.

“Can you focus?” You ask teasingly, pushing your hand up against his cheek and making him stop staring at you.

You take the soft silence as an opportunity to rest your hand lightly on his thigh. He does the same, except he feels the warmth of your skin and the material of your uniform. Goosebumps form shortly after, and you smile shyly up at the ceiling.

“Have you…” You start to say but trailed off, bashfulness overcoming you.

“Have I what?” He asks. You both blink slowly as a car’s lights flash through his window only for a few seconds, lighting up the dim room before it is filled with darkness again. The moon and an orange lava lamp was the only source of glow.

You distractedly look away from him, admiring a tapestry on his wall and his soft comforter. “Have you had sex with someone high?”

He shrugs and slowly smiles before gently nodding his head against the edge of his bed. “Yeah. Have you?” His head rolls over to look at you again. You feel his warm gaze, but you just keep your eyes locked on his ceiling fan.

Warmth and a subtle shyness flush across your chest, your thighs nearly trembling in excitement. “No.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, but he watches you for a few moments.

“Want to, though.” You finish, feeling a knot slowly grow in your stomach.

Frankie’s eyes flick to your long lashes, then down to warmth creeping up your neck. “Yeah?” He asks.

You gently nod, too, eyes still too shy to meet his own. “Yeah-”

He doesn’t let you get out one more syllable. His large hand comes up and meets your cheek, guiding your head to meet his gaze.

Frankie kisses you deeply but at a slow pace. And you’re feeling a desperate hunger to have him. You eagerly cup his cheeks in return and swing a leg over his lap, intensifying the kiss as your hands glide down the landscape of his clothed chest, bunching up his shirt in the process. You feel like a horny jackrabbit, but it’s really all his fault. You can feel his half-hard cock as you grind the center of your pelvis over his own, whimpering into his mouth desperately.

“Take care of me,” you whisper, and it ends up sounding a little more like a desperate, whiney plea.

Frankie’s lips part against your own, feeling the neediness of your touches. His hazy vision peers open, breaking your kiss for a moment.

“Hold on, baby,” He sits up a little bit against the bed, his eyes scanning yours with a certain deepness.

You pause, your chest heaving lightly as you regain your breath. “Frankie, come on, don’t make me beg.” You say as you lean in once more, but he catches your face and pauses your movements. You feel like a deer in headlights, static tingling in your ears as you feel a sudden rush for embarrassment. Why wasn’t he just as excited? Or eager? Or desperate? Were you the problem?

Suddenly, your eyes were dashing around for an escape. Then he speaks your name. Soft, gentle, careful. Hear him out. You swallow your pride and stay seated over his lap.

You can’t help but let an awkward chuckle escape between you, eyes having a hard time meeting his. You playfully scoff and smack his shoulder lightly to regain a sense of control. “Shut up, Frankie.”

His head cocks, and he looks at you with that stupid fucking smirk. “You don’t know how to take it slow, do you?”

His words antagonize you, and your eyes light with fire. A defensive fire, because he was right.

Slow meant feelings, slow meant experiencing, slow meant bonding. You weren’t slow. Sex was supposed to be fast, hot, desperate, counting down the seconds until a sweet escape, racing to an orgasm, chasing it like a fever dream. You weren’t good at slow.

You hate that Frankie has learned this about you. Giving up the upper hand wasn’t in your caliber. And you find yourself frowning as you look down at him once his smirk washes away. He’s looking at you like he cares. Even with you both stoned, brain’s hazy and light, he sees through all that and looks at you like he gives a damn.

He lightly shrugs his shoulders and softens the hold he has on your face, his thumb gently stroking along your cheekbone. “Can show you.”

Hesitancy screams across your blank face, but he reads you better than anyone else. He speaks your name, more genuinely explaining his offer. “Let me teach you.”

You let out a gentle sigh, slowly giving in to temptation. Because having him at all was better than not. So you take it slow. Frankie teaches you zen. Teaches you how to melt.

One of his hands falls from your cheek and lands on your waist, gently stroking your hip in a soothing slow circle. It feels like heaven.

His brown orbs dip close, and you let him take the lead. He kisses you tenderly, soft. His tongue lines your lower lip once he’s ready to lightly increase the intensity, begging your mouth for permission to part. If it was any other night, your tongue would be down his throat, and you’d be a grinding, sloppy mess in his lap. Let him teach you.

You take a deep breath in as your tongues tangle.

It almost makes you giggle again, because it feels stupid, but you sort of like it.

His stubble brushes your face, and you fight to release a moan. Frankie’s hand on your hip shuffles to your lower back, and you feel him add pressure. Your chest meets his, and you let yourself melt into him. His strong torso easily keeps you both up. Your heavy breaths hit the room, and you force yourself to pull away for air, despite how much you enjoy making out with him. He grins at the sight of satisfying you.

Frankie pushes a stray hair that’s fallen out from your loose ponytail behind your ear, smiling as his hands move to the back of your uniform. This will be the first time he actually undresses you properly, not just shoving the material up past your ass so he has access to your pussy.

“You know how to work the zipper?” You playfully ask as you settle your head on his shoulder, taking the slower moments to breathe and relax.

He stuffs down a chuckle and nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think so. Am I doing it right?” He asks as he guides the zipper down your back, feeling your flesh exposed to the rest of his room.

You purse your lips and slowly sit up in his lap, watching him take in a deep inhale as your centers brush lightly. You hide your coy smile as his eyes light with excitement, but he’s made a point to be slow with you. You guide the sleeves of your uniform down to your hips, exposing your breasts to him. Giggles leave your mouth as you wiggle out the last bit of your dress, Frankie is more than happy to help you.

“I’m feeling a little alone here.” Your voice is soft, tugging at his shirt before you push it up just past his pecs. Your high ass got a little distracted, staring at the hair sprinkled in dark trails across his torso, feeling him struggle in his shirt as he laughed.

“Focus, princess,” his arms tangle with his shirt before he tosses it off, especially since you started slacking. You shyly smile and flutter your eyes down to his warm body as your hands explore the landscape for the first time. You had yet to undress each other like this, you sort of liked it, especially with this whole slow and steady thing going for you both.

Frankie leans back against the bed, admiring the sight before him. You feel a little awkward, goosebumps rushing up your arms as you shyly smile and playfully push his face away. “Stop staring, perv. You’ve never seen a pair of tits before?”

He’s quick. “Not a pair that nice.”

You smile and crack out a laugh, knowing sex has never felt this casual before. No pressure. Good vibes. And it’s not just because of the weed. It’s because it’s Frankie. And he looks at you like you put the sun in the sky and you could do no wrong. But then he starts staring at your tits, and you realize he’s just another guy.

His hands caress your waist, thumbs dipping into the curves and appreciating the way they run up you like beautiful rivers. You decide to do the same. Your hands slip lower, letting his happy trail guide you to his black mesh basketball shorts. His rough and calloused hands cup your tits, taking them in his palms and giving you a tentative squeeze. He’s figuring you out, what you like, what makes you squirm and whine. As soon as he pinches your nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers, a broken gasp is elicited from your mouth.

“Shit,” you curse breathily. Everything was a bit heightened right now, including your sensitivity. It felt like a million little strums were being played, making your spine shiver and your head grow foggy. And you were determined to make him feel the same way.

You bite down on your lower lip, fishing your hand into his shorts and fisting a hand around his already hardening cock. A smirk tangles on your lips as he lets out an earthy grunt, low to the ground and heaven to your ears.

You start a bit fast, eager to please, wanting to see him tremble for your touch.

His lips meet yours in a distracting manner, rocking your steady pace. “Slow.” He murmurs against your lips, and you gently nod, a shy smile spreading from embarrassment.

“Slow.” You whisper, your lips brushing his. Your ego trips on the power you have over him, fisting him, his heavy length weighing in your hand. You couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him, he was all just… girth. Your body ached for him, needy for the feeling only he could satisfy by being inside of you. His tip trickles with precum, and a low moan drips off his tongue like honey. It fuels you.

“Spit on my cock, princess.” He grunts out, his face leaning in to capture one of your nipples in your mouth. You squeak lightly in excitement before doing just as he asks of you.

You angle your head over your centers, letting a long line of saliva puddle down onto him. It meets the strokes of your hand, and Frankie’s jaw twitches as he squeezes your breasts involuntarily harder. You let out a long whine as your nipples form peaks between his fingers, feeling your heart thrum against your chest.

Frankie likes how you look on top. Back arched, chest pushed up, messy hair falling loose, eyes lit with an eagerness and curiosity for him to teach you the method of going slow. Admiration mixed with respect. He feels like he’s dreaming.

All he can imagine is you like this, bodies in sync, riding his cock. Tight walls milking his cock for everything he has. His skin becomes riddled with goosebumps, thinking about your nails digging into his chest, your tits rocking up and down, how he would tumble out moans of your name and squeeze your hips with adoration. Yeah, he’d like to see that one day.

He’s not sure how much longer he can last with merely your hand on him.

“C’mere, baby.”

A gasp of surprise jumps from your throat before you can stop it, Frankie managing to stand up off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist for security. His strength, how easily he lifts you and shuffles you around like a ragdoll spurs white hot heat in your stomach. You were going to fuck him good if you ever got past the going slow part.

His smirky mouth meets yours in a hot kiss, one heavier than before. Like he’s needy for you. Your eyes melt closed as your fingers wind into the pretty curls that were formed at the nape of his neck. Your back meets his mattress and blankets, your fingers dance along the pattern, your high mind hypnotized seeing Frankie on top of you.

His body rests between your parted legs. You whimper into his mouth, feeling his hardened cock resting against your core.

“Take my fucking panties off,” you beg more than you mean to.

Frankie tries not to sneer. His teeth capture your lower lip, and you mewl out a moan before he lets you go.

“To hell with going slow.”

You hastily nod, feeling his fingers grip your panties at either side of your hips before he shuffles them down. You whine with how the sticky center stays latched to your core, he gently peels it loose with a hellish smirk.

Frankie’s heart thrums against his chest and echoes into his ears. Hearing you desperate for his touch was heaven, he felt undeserving to have such an angel vying for his attention. “So wet f’me, barely touched you, princess.”

He discards your panties to the side, off on the floor with the rest of the clothing you both have shed. You’re completely naked together, makes you a little nervous.

Frankie promised to speed up, but you’re finding harmony in the way his soft lips trail down your body, leaving wet prints between the valley of your breasts to the soft skin of your stomach. Your breaths come out heavier, thighs shaking as he drops back down to kneel at the edge of the bed. His hands grip your thighs and yank you impatiently closer to his eager mouth. You whimper as your body is shuffled closer, your fists that were clutching the sheets being torn away.

You giggle as your thighs shake around his head, feeling those perfect kisses move between the warmth of your legs.

“Fuck,” you finally let out, excitement seeping through your bones. Frankie’s stubble drags across the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, and again, you feel that heightened sensitivity that makes your stomach roll.

Frankie decides that dragging out the teasing is enough. He wanted to taste you, every mile, every inch, every centimeter.

Your core glistens in his eyeline, begging to be touched, kissed, fucked. He can’t help but dive in. His dopey brown eyes meet yours as his face disappears lower and lower before he’s past the valley of your tits, and all you can see when you crane your neck are those mocha brown eyes.

His tongue tastes you, and divides your folds, as he laps up your juices.

The feeling is exhilarating, like the rise and fall of a roller coaster.

A gasp riddles its way up through your throat, concaves your chest, and your pupils blow wide in excitement. Frankie enjoys your taste but aims to pleasure. His mouth latches onto your sensitive clit and suckles, his tongue intervening every few swipes to flick across your clit. Rise.

His large hands grip the outside of your thighs, pinning your lower half to his mattress, and lapping over you in a heated race to the finish line. Your face contorts in pleasure, fingers drifting down your stomach before you wind them in Frankie’s hair. He growls against your pussy, you’ve never felt your blood pump faster. Fall.

“Fucking- Christ,” you push out, gripping his hair strands tighter and making him grunt hot heat against your core. “Feels so fucking good- oh my god,”

He pulls away for a breath and sucks a love bite into the sensitive flesh of your thigh until it swells pink and purple. One of his hands on your outer thighs wraps around the shell of your body, playing with your clit. He slowly shakes his head as he looks at you. You wonder if he shares your hazy vision. The pleasure makes you feel like you’re seeing double.

“Christ isn’t making you feel good,” his words make you whimper, “I am.”

You quickly nod, but you realize your body can’t move quickly under the influence. You’re just hazily bobbing your head, your hand in his hair dropping to his strong bicep.

“Frankie, I need you,” you plead as you gently sit up on your elbows and cup his cheek, wiping your glistening slick off his pretty bottom lip. “Need you inside of me.” You whisper, a desperate look splashed across your face.

You hated how much power he had over you. He almost just made you cum from playing with your clit. You need him biblically, fully, flesh and blood, blood to bone. It was carnal, primal.

He doesn’t need much further convincing. Frankie preferred to pull an orgasm from going down on you, but he listened to your needs and what you wanted.

His lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, working you further up the bed and letting you collapse into his pillows. Your eyes catch the sight of a dream catcher while his tongue tangles with yours. You flush at the taste of your own arousal. That’s when you realize his hand is still between your thighs and working soothing circles into your clit.

You whimper as he adds a tad bit more pressure, and you feel the white-hot heat of adrenaline making your stomach pool even more excitement into your tummy.

“Frankie,” you whisper softly, and his forehead rests over yours while he guides his shaft to your center.

He lines his tip up and down between your folds, your jaw dropping as he sickeningly uses your slick to lube himself. He lets his entire shaft rest against your sex, and he does slow thrusts back and forth, lining his entire cock with you. Holy fuck. A shiver was sent up your spine, goosebumps parading across your body.

Your chest swelled for him.

“What do you say?” He asks in a taunt, knowing how weak you are.

You huff and move your hands up his arms and hang them loosely around his shoulders. He complies in moving in closer.

“Please.” You finally admit between gritted teeth, which makes him grin.

“Alright, princess,” his forehead now rests against your temple, cocking his chin down to get a better angle of your centers. He guides his tip to your entrance, slow and patient, before he notches himself inside of you.

Your eyelashes flutter, and you watch as his eyes clench closed. He likes to act all tough like he wouldn’t fold for you, but you know he would time and time again without having to say more than a simple please.

Both of you share unsteady breaths. It feels like a dam is giving way inside your chest.

Frankie thinks how he has never been inside a tighter pussy, squeezing the last bits of air from his lungs.

Your walls pulsate around the intrusion, but your dripping core and his wet tongue from earlier allowed him to slowly push in, inch by inch.

You swallow a lump in your throat. You don’t realize your eyes are closed, and you're gripping him around the neck to keep him close until he sponges a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Alright?” He forces out. It’s like you’re choking him, and it makes you twitch up a smile.

“Mhm,” you muster up, feeling his chest rumble lightly with laughter.

“Baby,” he whispers, and your chest surges at the pet name. “Can’t breathe.” Oh, shit. You damn near had him in a headlock.

You loosen your grip around his neck, shyly smiling as your desperate hands look for something to ground you.

Frankie stays flushed inside you but shifts to be more centered over your body, gently resting his forehead just above yours.

“C’mere,” he whispers before he takes your hands. You decide not to question why he interlocks your fingers. But it feels safe, and you’re still high, so you’ll blame any poor decision-making on that.

“Fuck me,” you finally grit out, desperate for him to just fucking, “Move.”

Your whine is met by him reeling back his hips, only for him to plow right back into you at an unforgiving rate. A gasp ripples through your throat, and you feel like screaming. Your entire goddamn body was on fire with the way his girth parted your walls, splitting you open. You let out a string of whimpery moans, and your eyes glared desperate daggers into him.

“S’what you wanted, right?” He grunts out, jaw tight, pretty curls falling limply in front of his eyes and crowding his forehead. “You wanna be fucked hard, is that it?” He can barely speak authoritatively, you’re squeezing him like your last lifeline.

But he’s right. Tears cloud your vision, and you weakly nod as desperate puffs of air leave your pretty parted lips. “Yes,” you squeak out, relaxing your hips so Frankie falls into you more.

“Feels so fucking good, can’t-” An eager cry leaves your lips as he pulls himself out, just to thrust right back in and rocking you further up his bed. Your chin tips to the ceiling as you curse every god, man, woman, whoever the hell created Frankie Morales.

“Can’t what, princess?” His tone is lower, sinister even as your walls twitch around him but only gush out more arousal for his cock to slide in and out of you.

You find it hard to string together syllables. So he squeezes your hands that you’re holding for dear life. He stills inside of you until you answer.

“Shit,” you whimper.

“Can’t what, angel?” He probes again, cocky asshole waiting for his answer.

You whimper and peek open your eyes. The right side of his face is highlighted silver from the moon, your hazy vision thinks he looks like an angel. His hand wanders between your centers and finds your throbbing clit, making you cry out the answer. Your face crumbles as you own up to what you need to say.

“Fuck! Fuck, Frankie! Can’t go without your dick,” you pant out as he subtly rocks into you at a good pace upon your confession. “Can’t even go- can’t even go a week without it,” you admit in defeat.

That stupid, cocky smirk of his graces his parted lips. It’s crooked and perfect, and he’s fucking you like your life depends on it. Because it does, you think.

His thighs clap against your ass, pounding you into the bed, drilling you into place, suffocating the air from your lungs.

Your vision goes hazy, seeing white, then rainbow, then stars. They cloud your vision, and you’re not sure if you’re still high off the weed anymore. Or just high off Frankie.

You whimper strings of his name tangled with profanity, he’s still filling you to the brim. It once seethed hot with pain, but now your stomach is contorting in pleasure. It’s like he knows exactly how to crack your vault, penetrating your walls, unlocking something deep inside of you that no one else manages to know the code.

His messy fingers continue to circle your clit, and you know your end is coming.

Frankie’s grunting with every thrust, moaning a symphony of your name every chance he gets. He likes holding your hand, resting his sweaty forehead against your own, listening to you beg for his cock, for your finish. It’s the only thing he wants to give you. He’d be at your every beck and call if you let him. He wouldn’t mind if the only thing he ever got was a fraction of your praise.

Frankie’s thighs clap against your ass, the sound echoes around his bedroom. If his neighbors didn’t know his name, they did now.

“Fuck! Frankie!” You cry out, feeling every inch of his cock massage your insides. His tip kisses your cervix, and your jaw drops. Nothing more comes out of your mouth, so your blown-out eyes do all the talking.

I’m so fucking close.

“I know, baby, feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts as his balls slap against you. “Feels good having my fat fucking cock inside you, huh?”

You shake under him, your thighs clench around his hips, and you pray to the gods for making Frankie. You take back what you thought before, you need him.

You don’t care that he’s a little older, that he’s an asshole, that he eggs you on.

Because in the shelter of his bedroom, locked in your embrace, he swallows your name and persuades you into pleasure, time and time again.

Your clit tingles, and your walls furiously clench around him. Finally, your mouth finds words to try and elaborate on what you’ve been holding inside.

“Fucking- shit! Fuck me harder, right there- fuck me, Frankie! God- I’m coming!” You cry out as his pants fill your space, fanning across your face. He fucks you harder and faster as you near your orgasm, wanting to help you reach it. And he gets you there.

Your back arches, and he groans lowly as he stills inside of you. It’s almost beautiful the way you cum in unison.

Your hands hold his tighter, and he reciprocates by squeezing gently. I’m right here, I’m here, baby.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, still. Your hips get a little achy. He feels you twitch and knows it's time to let you go.

A gentle whimper leaves you as he pulls out. You feel a bit empty, a little cold.

His sweet laughter makes you peek open your eyes. He’s trying to move out from around you, but you haven’t let go of his hands.

You shyly let go, and both of you squeeze your hands to flex the knotted muscles and stiff knuckles. You close your legs and lightly curl up. He doesn’t come to rest, he gently pats your outer thigh once or twice before he disappears to his bathroom.

You think he couldn’t have been gone for more than thirty seconds, but he comes back in a fresh pair of boxers and his basketball shorts, his tanned torso still exposed for your viewing.

“Frankie,” he pauses like a deer in headlights as he stands up from grabbing your panties. “I’m gonna… spill.” You finally pitch out, a bit embarrassed.

“Oh,” he says, feeling like an idiot. He circles back to the bathroom and grabs a towel and a wet washcloth.

“Sorry, my brain is all-” he starts to say, but you quickly shake your head.

“I know me too. S’okay.” You whisper with a smile as you weakly sit up on your elbows. The record playing in the living room had stopped. He shimmies the towel under your hips before he aids you with a clean washcloth.

Feels too domestic, so you take over, much to his annoyance. You wrap yourself in the towel once you’re done, and sit up to retrieve your uniform. You dread putting it on.

“Can I take the towel for the way home? My underwear is still too..” you trail off. Soaking wet was the words you would have used.

Frankie’s face screws up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You’re going home?”

Now your expressions match. “Yeah?” It sounds more like a guess than a statement. “What else would I do?”

Frankie shifts back and forth on his feet before he sits down beside you on the bed. “Dunno. Stay here.”

You take in a hesitant breath, and he feels it. “You shouldn’t drive home, you know. You’re stoned. And tired. Don’t need you falling asleep at the wheel or some shit.”

You frown. Staying here does sound nice. Thinking about going down those five flights of stairs with your jelly legs sounds like a walk to hell.

But there’s a certain rule about sleeping over. One you don’t want to cross. You and Frankie are just fooling around. Nothing more.

“I don’t know, Frankie.” You say with a small frown, tightening the towel around you even more. His sullen look deepens at your words. He doesn’t want to overly convince you. If you want to go, he doesn’t want to stand in your way.

You chew on your bottom lip and weigh your options. You don’t want to go down the stairs. You’re tired as fuck, and you don’t want to get pulled over or something else. And you really don’t want to put your uniform back on. And you want to stop trying to put issues in your own way when you really just want to stick around. But the decision is made for you.

“Stay.”

Your eyes meet his. He’s more certain now, going after what he wants.

“Stay the night, it won’t kill you. I’ll get you something more comfortable to wear, and you can just…” he trails off and shrugs.

“Stay?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. He nods.

You sigh loudly but inevitably smile as you point to his closet. “I need a shirt. Please.”

A big smile glides across his face, and you can’t believe you’re the one who put it there.

“Alright, princess, whatever you say.” He squeezes your thigh and stands up, his back to you as he fishes through his closet and smells a few shirts to see how clean they are.

You roll your eyes and sigh as you fall back into his pillows.

You change into something clean, you hope it’s clean, and end up curling into a protective ball under his covers.

His cat, Leo, circles up by your feet, and you coo, gently stroking the pretty fur along his back. Frankie retrieves two glasses filled with water and hands you one. You instantly take a few gulps before your hand gently strokes down the shirt he’s put you in. It swims a bit on you, but you like it. The hem hangs at your thighs.

“Can you get in here?” You ask impatiently. “M’getting chilly.” You whisper with a coy smile.

Frankie blows out a few candles in his living room and finishes putting away any leftover stir fry.

Your high has worn off, and now you’re just a sleepy little thing. A long shift plus getting railed would be your new nighttime sleep aid.

Now that the apartment is drenched in darkness, he pulls back the covers and moves in beside you. Cuddling was not an option. He spoons you, yanking you halfway across the bed and out of your little ball. His warm flesh meets your back, and you hum at the feeling. He was a furnace. His head settles above yours, you feel the stubble gently poke at your hair. Your eyes are already closed as his arm wraps around your waist, an affirming hand settling on your tummy. He must need skin-to-skin contact because his hand slips under the shirt he’s put on you and settles on the warm skin by your belly button.

You let out a short little laugh. “You do this with all the girls you sleep with?”

“No.” He quickly says, and your eyes peek open.

“No?” You ask curiously.

“No. Just all my coworkers I sleep with.” You roll your eyes and reach around to slap the back of your hand against his hip, forcing out a chuckle from him.

“M’kidding.” He somehow pulls you closer. Your head rests comfortably on his bicep, the cold tip of your nose warmed by his flesh.

Questions pour out of your stupid brain. Were you the only one he was sleeping with? If you weren’t, who else was there? Was this normal to him, cuddling after a friends-with-benefits situation? Did Frankie want something more?

You sigh and close your eyes, attempting to shut off your brain as your finger lazily draws shape on his forearm.

He murmurs a goodnight against the shell of your ear. You blame how happy and comfortable you are right now on his cat. And it somewhat makes you feel better. You never pictured falling asleep beside your coworker, let alone Frankie Morales.

Sleep eventually overcomes you. You dream of Frankie sitting in a bowl of stir fry like a hot tub.

---

here's my masterlist!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #fuck yeah frankie #francisco morales #catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales

454 notes · View notes

lana-llama-in-pajamas · 2 months

Text

thick as blood

sweet as milk

pt.3

you woke up sore and oddly over heated, you opened your eyes to see something a 12 year old boy would dream up both the twins cuddled up to you arms hugging you close, you looked down to see you were in a nightgown and they were in slips they possibly wore under their dresses from last night. Els leg was wrapped in cellophane probably fearful of the wound bleeding through you smiled softly looking up at your ceiling hearing their breathing synced together, the smell of their French perfumes with the combination of sweat was actually pretty calming (damn twins are in your bed even before Francis 💀)

you closed your eyes again wanting to catch a bit more rest before getting up for the day, what felt like minutes was actually an hour. you woke up again with the twins gone, you got up rubbing your eyes walking out to the living room hearing talking "you think she's even eaten a meal a day?" a deeper feminine voice asked it wasn't the twins " I don't think you could call bread and jam a meal" another voice said, you peeked in the kitchen to see the twins, mia and gloria all in the kitchen. gloria cooking on the stove as mia and sel unpacked groceries putting them in the proper places, elenois sat at the window mixing something in a bowl. you felt so cared for, your pain from your injuries disappearing for a second, you got caught by mia who walked over with selenne "your awake! so sorry we let ourselves in dear" mia hugged you gently before selenne wrapped her arm around your shoulders "you should go shower we're making brunch" you nodded "no worries miss stone but please send me the receipt for the food" you spoke softly realizing your voice was still strained "oh don't insult me y/n I'm not hurting for money, now go get cleaned up I'm gonna make some tea" she pushed you to the bathroom making selenne giggle walking back to the kitchen

you did strip yourself of your slip and bandages examining yourself in the mirror, bruises kissed your body with indents of the stairs in your back. the memory of the creatures claws ran across your legs with your ankle matching Elenois, it was lightly scarred so you washed yourself gently hissing anytime you had to bend down. you left the shower walking back to your room to change, the girls brought out the table into the living room filling it foods and spare plates, you changed into something less formal putting on some music to lighten your mood

everyone gathered in the livingroom, sitting and passing plates as gloria sat near you looking over your vinyls ¨you do got some bad bruises baby¨ she gently grabbed your arm looking it over, you hissed a little making her let go ¨sorry baby¨ she handed the first loaded plate to you ¨come sit and eat, we know damn well you havent had a vegtable since you came in¨ you smiled thanking the sweet woman trying your best to be polite while eating but she was right you were starving, honestly its a miracle you were able to fight the equivelent of a animal on bread, fruit jam and milk alone. everyone ate and talked as gloria filled your plate to replace what you had ate whispering ¨your in your home, eat with the hunger you have¨ hearing that had you eating mouthfuls only listening to the conversation instead ¨natcha and her little one wouldve come but natcha didnt want her to overwhelm you with questions¨ mia said to you ¨she got you and the twins flowers though¨ you nodded finishing your 2nd plate ¨ill need to send her a thank you note soon¨ everyone nodded in agreement as a knock was heard at the door, you got up wiping your mouth opening it slowly to show most of the men ¨honey i thought you were at work¨ gloria asked as everyone walked over ¨i was but im on lunch, here you go miss l/n your one courageous little lady¨ arnold passed you a small bouquet and kissed his wife good bye then one after another your other neighbors gave you gifts of gratitude, even lois margeret and raftellyn came in with food n flowers low key inviting themselves in.

at the very end natasha came and held up a tin tray to you ¨my mom is at work but she made this for you or whatever¨ you smiled taking the tray and placing on on the table with everything else ¨your mom does so much tell her thank you for me¨ you bent down to talk with her ¨....yeah ok.....did it bite you? are you infected with something? my mom said you saved us and killed it or whatever, does that mean your a murderer or a monster killer?¨ she kept asking things making your head swim but luckily you had a savior ¨she's a monster killer. a hero little Natasha.¨ Francis said sternly also holding a gift in his hands ¨oooh ok....whatever bye hero lady¨ she said waving and walking out ¨here Natasha take a plate¨ mia walked over leading her back to her door ¨uh....um thank you ¨ you looked up blushing ¨for?¨ he asked putting down the basket of fruit and wine bottle in his hands ¨err...uh everything, carrying me, bringing me this¨ you gestured to the basket ¨telling the little one I'm a hero..¨ you looked down intimidated by his hard gaze ¨those gifts are from the DDD. I didn't get the memo we were making your apartment a floral shop.¨ it almost sounded like a joke but he said it so blankly with irritation ¨oh well would you like a pla-¨ ¨you didn't get her something?¨ Margarette said loudly ¨for shame young man she pulled a gun out what could you pull? a bottle of milk?¨ she laughed as the others giggled uncomfortably ¨like I said I didn't get the memo. but I will show my gratitude¨ you turned beet red wondering what he meant by this, the twins felt your forehead ¨you should sit, Francis please help yourself¨ they brought you back to the couch as Francis followed Lois made him a plate and sat right by him ¨aside from this loud mouth, I didn't know you had those types of muscles Francis" god you were uncomfy now "i carry crates of milk i think its self explanatory" he shot back making Lois flustered by the full stop, at this point you weren't sure if Natasha was his, it seems like he doesn't have a filter...or feelings.

soon the awkward feelings subsided and everyone talked about their jobs, marriage and mia's and the dr's wedding plans.

you were in the kitchen looking over your gifts, mostly flowers and chocolate but it seems the Dr. got you a jewelry set, and so did the cappuccin's. the flowers came with cards you read and stacked together, one stuck out to you .

the fruits basket and wine.

it was champagne and fancy fruits (just to set the scene mangos and kiwis were considered 'exotic' in this era) you read the card

dear y/n you did well, enjoy your week off. another agent will take your place so don't let your guard down completely but do relax. rex

you smiled grabbing 2 vases of flowers wondering where to put them. Francis put his plate in the sink staring at you as he leaned against it "...you know who also hasn't gifted you anything....Gauss" he spoke lowly, was he...talking gossip? "why do you think?" you entertained him preening one of the flowers "he feels emasculated. since he isn't the American hero he's pissed" he chuckled making you shiver a little, it made sense though gauss seemed the macho type but that didn't matter , it was the way he said 'American hero' it was very accented "are you not emasculated by me Francis?" you asked walking closer to him even if your knees started to feel like jelly with every step "not at all, i was raised by strong women." he looked down at your level as you could breath in his cologne, strong sweet and alcohol like. " Francis i wonder a lot of things about you" you spoke truthfully like his eyes pulled it out of you "i am a book y/n, you just have to open it and read" his face was so close to yours.

you were swooning, eyes fluttering as you could almost imagine his lips on yours. his cologne was like a drug putting you under, you were in a full day dream before hearing another dark quiet laugh "how unbecoming of you...you know so little about me and yet your ready to throw yourself at me" he held up your chin with his hand as if you were a dog.

he walked away excusing himself to everyone before walking out

you shuddered taking a deep breath hoping to smell him one last time "he teased me....the bastard teased me and left."

im sorrry it tookk so looooongg!!! but here it is my loves enjoy!!! let me know if you like or hate (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

#milkman x reader #thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you

163 notes · View notes

baiyubai · 6 months

Text

weilan university students!au anyone? I almost dumped this on the WIP stage but then @the-marron bribed me into finishing

the bribe is under the cut

Zhao Yunlan is barely awake this morning, which means that his awareness of anything leaves a lot to be desired. The fact that he managed to stumble into the right train with only minimal amounts of bumping into people is already far above Zhao Yunlan’s own expectations for today, so he feels excused that it took him an embarrassingly long while to notice he is being watched.

It's not exactly a new feeling, truth be told - Zhao Yunlan does attract attention, absolutely willingly and with intent, but he is fairly sure that his awake self is much more interesting than the zombie chewing on the lollipop in his mouth that he sees instead of his own reflection in the train’s window.

And yet. Someone is looking.

Subtlety is an art available only after noon in his experience, and so Zhao Yunlan looks around in a way that is as covert as he can make it - with dead stare and absolute lack of any finer thought marring his forehead, when he sees him - the Pretty One.

Zhao Yunlan has been aware of the Pretty One for a while now. He’s noticed him a few weeks ago when he was getting on the train with his eyes glued to a book in his hand. Zhao Yunlan's first thought was ‘oh, a nerd’. The second one was just ‘oh’, because the man raised his eyes to search for some space where he and his book would not be a bother, letting Zhao Yunlan see his face clearly.

And what a face it was.

Classic poets didn't know shit when they described otherworldly beauties because this guy is just perfect.

And now he is staring at Zhao Yunlan.

He is seated a bit away, by the window, staring at Yunlan rather unashamedly. Maybe he truly believes in the zombie impression and doesn't think he’s been noticed.

Maybe he is simply judging Zhao Yunlan's clothes - he is pretty sure he wore the same hoodie yesterday, and since apparently he and the Pretty One share their everyday commute to the university, he had to notice.

Well, it is the only one not stained with coffee, so the Pretty One would have to deal.

Trying to make this a bit less awkward, Zhao Yunlan looks down at the book in the guy's hand and almost jolts. Biology?

Shit. This one is smart.

Pretty, but out of Yunlan's league and most probably an asshole - all the sciency types were either assholes, or insane or both.

Well, better to check than regret, Zhao Yunlan thinks.

Even if he decides that Zhao Yunlan looks like an idiot.

***

Zhao Yunlan looks as great as usual, Shen Wei decides, feeling heat in his cheeks and his neck.

Of course, he looks his best when he is animated and talking to his friends, surrounded by people who adore him, smiling and sharing his knowledge with a smile and a joke - Shen Wei sees him often on his way back from the tutoring sessions, after Zhao Yunlan leaves his own club. He’s never managed to come closer, intimidated by Zhao Yunlan's usual circle, and besides, in the evenings Shen Wei only shares a two stations-long ride with Zhao Yunlan, because of his job.

That's why Shen Wei prefers the mornings.

The mornings are just for them - they get on the same station and leave at the one closest to the university, parting ways when the crowd of other students swallows them and carries them towards the gates.

But before that, Zhao Yunlan is more often than not just within the reach. Today, he looks tired - there are shadows underneath his eyes and his gaze seems a bit unseeing: it’s stopped on Shen Wei, but there is no light of recognition, no surprise at some random guy watching him like he is the best part of his day, and so Shen Wei allows himself to look some more.

He cannot help but feel a bit worried - is it lack of sleep? Illness? He doesn't know.

He doesn't even know what Zhao Yunlan studies really, he didn't catch that when listening to the conversations for such a short time. All he knows is the other man’s name, his route, and the fact that the mere sight of him makes Shen Wei’s heart do stupid things.

It's plenty enough.

Shen Wei should look back to his book - the discussion will most likely rest on his shoulders again and he should be better prepared for Professor Ouyang’s questions, but his eyes refuse to move.

There is something thrilling in having Zhao Yunlan's attention, as illusory as it is. Shen Wei is not fooling himself here, he knows that Yunlan is looking past him, just letting his unfocused gaze rest on something, but even so, Shen Wei is glad to have this semblance of a contact.

With his coursework loaded as it is, with the tutoring sessions and the part-time job at the museum, Shen Wei doesn't have time to make friends.

All he has is this train ride and Zhao Yunlan's handsome profile.

He wonders what would happen if they talked. He probably wouldn't like Shen Wei much, losing interest after a few sentences, realising that Shen Wei is just as boring as he looks, but maybe he would smile before that? He would offer his name, a handshake maybe?

Something changes in Zhao Yunlan's eyes suddenly, and Shen Wei looks down onto his book immediately, feeling caught.

He feels Zhao Yunlan's gaze on himself for a long time, staring at the words without comprehension, but it's better than seeing accusation or disgust in Zhao Yunlan's eyes.

For the first time in forever, Shen Wei is glad that the train reaches the destination. He packs his book and adjusts his glasses, heading straight towards the door. He will not check if Zhao Yunlan is here.

Once outside, Shen Wei breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn't know where Zhao Yunlan is, but it's fine. He can observe him again in the evening after all, even if for a short while.

“Hello there,” someone behind his back says, making Shen Wei’s heart leap like a rabbit. He knows that voice. “Want to go together?”

When Shen Wei turns, he is faced with Zhao Yunlan's bright, friendly smile, the lollipop stick still in his mouth.

“Go?” He repeats dumbly.

The answer makes Zhao Yunlan chuckle.

“To the uni. I am conducting an experiment!”

Shen Wei blinks. People are milling around them in haste and some small part of his brain insists that they should move too, or they would be late, but that part seems not to be aware that Zhao Yunlan. Is. Talking. To Shen Wei.

“Ah. What is it?” He manages heroically, not stumbling on his words even once.

Zhao Yunlan grins.

“The ‘how many eye contact until date’ experiment.”

Shen Wei’s mind comes to a very violent halt.

#I invested all of my skill points into making a white line around characters and none into backgrounds #guardian #镇魂 guardian #weilan #shen wei #zhao yunlan #fic rec #my art

301 notes · View notes

just-a-drawing-bean · 6 months

Note

Hey bean!! I absolutely adore your animations nd theyve really inspired me to get back into learning how to animate frame by frame again, smth about your animations really feel spectacular, (amazing key poses nd smooth motions even with a lower frame rate!) I frequently come back to them jus to admire it all! I was wondering if you had any tips on animation, or any progress pics of animating! (No pressure though!! I will continue to enjoy your amazin animations while i try to crack your secret 🔨)

Thank you!! i made a whole post about making an animation smooth from a different ask. but! i do have more to say about animation in general that post doesn't talk about everything. I noticed I didn't talk about follow through. which is basically the continuation of a motion. the natural settle of the body into a pose. so once i've done my in-betweens from one pose to the next. i cant just ease out the movement. i have to make sure things like arms, hair, heads, etc, finish their movements to make sure the weight is correct.

here is a little in progress gif of something i'm working on (ignore the ribbons disappearing i'm not done lol)

so instead of just easing to a stop he does a rock back and his arms and head also follow through their motions and bounce back on a slight delay to the body. the arms and head follow the body movement but lag behind slightly. think of a tail wagging. uhhh its 3am man so ill leave it here. the linked post has a lot of info. but if you have specific questions id love to talk about it i love explaining my animation process id like to make a breakdown of something one day.

#ask response #animation tips #animation #art tips #sun fnaf #daycare attendant #bean art

216 notes · View notes

yangoodomens · 6 months

Text

Yandere!Rise Leo x GN reader

CW: implied kidnapped

•°•°•°•°•��The beginning of forever》°•°•°•°•°•

I breathed in, trying to keep myself calm. I was going on a date, but not just any date, THE date. I have been friends with the Turtles for years now, and I wouldn't be lying if I said I had feelings for one of them, and he finally asked me on a date.

I looked in the mirror one last time. I looked good, my [outfit of choice] was clean, my hair was neatly done in a [style of choice]. He had mentioned I didn't need to dress up, we weren't going somewhere extremely fancy.

I hear my phone go off, I look over to see Leo's contact, a message displayed on the screen.

💙Blue boy💙 - Hope you're ready, ill be there in 5! Can't wait to see how Pretty/Handsome you are!

🌸Y/N🌸 - I am, im really excited Leo, see you soon!

Almost on cue, I heard a knock on my door. I took one last look at myself before I head down to greet him. Opening the door I see Leo. He wore a casual white collared sweater and jeans. He smiled as he saw me. "You're stunning", he praised, as he hands me a bouquet of light blue flowers, with a small shark plushie in the middle.

A small giggle escaped me as I took the bouquet, "Leo, you didn't have to," I said to him.

He smiles "I wanted to, you deserve it". He extends his hand to me, "ready to go?"

I smiled, "Of course". I took his hand and walked with him. This day was going to be the best.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°《Timeskip》•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

We finally got to the place: a giant aquarium. He guides me in, and we start to walk around, pointing at all the pretty fish and sharks, laughing at the funny animals.

We walk into a underwater glass tunnel, As I walk through the mesmerizing aquarium tunnel, my senses are overwhelmed with the ethereal beauty that surrounds me. The vibrant colors of the coral reefs and the graceful movements of the exotic fish create a visual spectacle that transports me into a different world. The gentle sway of the water and the soft lighting further enhances the surreal atmosphere, casting a calming spell on my soul. The tunnel provides a unique perspective, allowing me to feel like I am swimming alongside these magnificent creatures, witnessing their elegance up close. It is a truly enchanting experience that leaves me in awe of the wonders of the underwater world.

I snap out of my amazed state to point to a turtle looking at lei, "it's you." I smiled stupidly as I joked. I looked at him, being met with him staring at me, "what?" I asked in a joking tone.

"while the beauty of the aquarium tunnel catches the attention of all who pass through, your beauty passes even its amazement. Your vibrancy and grace fill my heart with an awe that no man-made wonder could ever match.", he longingly murmurs.

I look at him, my face flared in a blush, "Leo..." I say, he cups my face, kissing my forehead, as he says, "I hope I make you half as happy as you make me."

We finished our date. As he's walking me home, we chat and joke. I never see the glint in his eyes. We made it to my house. I kissed his cheeks as I said goodbye, starting to walk to my door.

He grabs me, covering my mouth with a damp rag. I cough as he holds it to my face. I am getting dizzy. I hear him whisper in my ear as he pulls out his odachi sword and makes a portal,

"There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you're the one for me. Sleep well, mi tesoro. "

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•《End of story》°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hope you enjoyed

- Jett

#yandere #yandere tmnt #yandere leonardo #yandere rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #yandere x reader #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rise leo #fluff

168 notes · View notes

chososlittlecrybaby · 11 months

Text

IGURO OBANAI X TSUGUKO READER !¡

Warning contents: Rough sex , biting , choking , spitting , pussy eating , degrading , manhandling , pussy slapping , hair pulling , back shots .

Word count: 2.6k

Summary- Being Iguro’s tsuguko was very draining to say the least. The training was rough and exhausting but you can’t really complain because you chose this course for your life. You’ve been sick of his treatment so you decide to skip training for a bit and go hang out with Tengen.

“Obanai that shit hurts!” You yelled, holding your arm. “You can’t expect to be a hashira and you’re complaining about me hitting you in the arm?” Obanai said, staring daggers at you. “Okay but still! Go easy.” You whined. “Do you think demons are going to go easy on you?” Obanai walked up closer to you.

“Whatever.” You simply said, before getting back into position.

Every day you still think about why you wanted to be Obanai’s tsuguko. His training is so brutal his last ‘tsugukos’ quit. He was a great teacher but he doesn’t know how to hold back. Its been 4 months since I took the position on. Those last 4 months have been hell.

You take a deep breath trying to focus on your total concentration breathing. Then out of no where your face met the ground. “WHAT THE FUCK” You yelled getting up rubbing your forehead. “You need to be quick and persistent.” He said, blankly.

It was only going to take one more drop of sweat for you to snap. You got up off the ground and immediately fell back down on one knee. You suddenly felt liquid run down your face and touched it. You pulled your hand back and seen blood on your finger tips. You looked up at obanai and down at your hand.

“shit” is all you could mutter before you fell limp and passed out.

You woke up in the butterfly mansion with Tanjiro beside your bed. “What happened?” You asked sitting up, letting the covers fall off your shoulders. “You passed out and Mr. Obanai brought you here, but didn’t stay because it’s not that serious” You felt a pang in your heart and you felt tears beginning to spill.

You clutched the sheets and tried to hold back the tears. Plastering a smile on your face. “Oh okay!” You began, lips trembling. “Well im fine now so! You can hurry on ahead. Just let Lady Koucho know im up please!” You said while turning towards other side of the bed getting ready to get up. Your feet dangling off the bed. Your back is towards Tanjiro. “Also let Master Obanai know I wont be back for a few days.”

“Okay sure! Have a well rested recovery Y/n!!” Tanjiro said.

Lady Koucho came in the room and inspected you to make sure that you were okay. As soon as she said you were ready to go, she made some recovering tea.

You finished the tea and got dressed in your regular corps uniform which was very similar to kanao’s.

“Bye lady kochou. Ill come back again if anything seems wrong. You waved at her and left the butterfly estate. You knew at around these times Obanai and Muichiro were patrolling the area so you decided to grab a couple of stuff from Obanais mansion like clothes, and made your way to tengens mansion.

“I can’t believe I was so hurt by what he said. I’m hoping to God that Tanjiro was just lying. but then again he’s so bad at lying, and hates it.” You complained to Tengens muscle mice. you sighed trying to figure out why on earth were you talking to animals. “You know this is kinda creepy right?” Makio said. “I know, I just need to rant. Thanks for letting me stay here.” You said, bowing your head.

“Its fine! We understand what you’re going through and you can stay as long as you want!” Hinatsuru said, popping up our of no where, placing a hand on Makio’s shoulder.

Tears started to form and you immediately started blinking and wiping them from your face. “I appreciate it so much.”

The last 4 days Tengen has trained your total concentration breathing and ways to move more efficient and faster. You were getting ready to go to bed when you felt something slithering up your leg. “GAH WHAT IS THAT” You shrieked, Suma and Makio coming in the room to see whats wrong.

“IS THAT A SNAKE” Suma yelled, hiding behind Makio. When you took a closer look at the snake you could tell that it belonged to the Serpent pillar. “Kaburamaru? Why are you here..” A frown appeared on your face. He slithered his tongue and looked in the direction of the corner in the room.

There he was. Obanai was there. A menacing glare staring at you. Your heart rate started to increase and it felt hot. “Lets go.” He said with utter venom in his voice.

“I-I uh..” You stammered. “It wasn’t a question. Lets go.” He said grabbing you by your arm. “I have to go guys tell tengen and hinatsuru ill be back tomorrow to get my stuff!” you yelled, waving by at them. Watching kaburamaru slither back onto obanai’s neck.

We were finally away from the mansion and on your way to his. “master o-obanai that hurts.” “Do you think I care?” He said still focused ahead of him. “You seem to want to take the initiative on leaving?” Obanai said, tightening his grip. “You missed four days of training. That sets us back.” He said, gritting through his teeth. He was so angry.

“Tengen trained me on total concentration and speeding up my movements.” You said, wincing. “So? Do you really think thats what makes me mad? Don’t be dense.”

“Well I wouldn’t have left if you didn’t treat me like shit.” You said making him stop. “what?” He said, sounding genuinely confused. “Maybe if you stop pointing out my flaws and motivated me, sugar coating what im doing wrong then maybe JUST MAYBE. I wouldn’t have left. You couldn’t even stay with me at the butterfly estate, HELL you couldn’t even visit me. Do you know how painful it is when somebody tells you that your own trainer doesn’t give a fuck about you?” You yelled, running out of breath. “Let go of me!” You attempted to snatch your arm away, failing.

Tears started falling. Your heart was shattered. “You know.. I get where you are coming from. Have once have you ever tried to get to know me?” he said, anger filling in. “PLENTY OBANAI. I have tried to converse with you many times, asked you questions like what your favorite color or food was. You shut me down every time! I hate you” You fell on your knees. The arm obanai was holding still in the air because of his grasp on it. He got down on his knees to level with you. He gripped your face with his hand.

“Im not one to share my feelings with. I have issues with that. Expressing them is a fear that I have. so if I made you feel some type of way, im sorry.” Obanai said. His gaze softening. “Now come on so we can go home.”

The walk home was less awkward but the sexual tension was definitely there. You didn’t think that things would go far with you and obanai.

“Fuck! Iguro please!” You yelled, gripping his hair. His tongue lapping at your clit. He stuck two fingers into you and starting moving in a scissoring motion. “Iguro please its too much!” You yelled. He was dragging a third orgasm out of you. 30 minutes of him just eating your pussy and your legs are a shaking mess. tears rolling down your brown skin. “You need to stop moving. Its making it hard for me to go deeper.” He lowly said. Just then, the sound of his voice made you cum right then and there.

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt and licked his cum coated fingers. Your chest lifted up and down as you tried to catch your breath. “turn over.” He said, flipping you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up.

He slapped his dick on your ass before sliding it in. Snaking his arms around your waist to slap your pussy. You cry out in pain and pleasure. “Fuck, im surprised you didnt let Tengen fuck you.” He said, sliding in and out of your cunt.

“Well, you probably went there to be a slut, but it didn’t quite work out for you huh?” He said, rubbing harsh circles on your pussy. “T-Thats not true!” You gasped.

“Shut up.” He said, pulling your hair, your back meeting with his chest. “Next time im going to fuck you with your corps uniform on. Its going to make you look more like a whore than you already are.” He said , wrapping his arm around your waist.

It came to the point that the pleasure was too much. You attempted to scoot away since he had his arm wrapped around you. “Stop running and take it.” He said harshly, slapping in between your inner thighs. A red spot forming on your tanned skin.

“O-obanai, go slower!” You reached behind you scratching at his neck. Obanai slowly raised his head down to your shoulder biting your shoulder. Breaking skin. “you taste amazing.” He said, licking at the blood.

“You’re trembling.” He said, blankly. “It feels so good.” You mumbled out. Something in him snapped. He felt a wave of possession wash over him.“Say it again. Say it.” He said. Snapping his hips into you, reaching your cervix causing you to spasm. “Iguro, it feels so good!” You yelled out. “Yeah im making you feel good. I better not catch somebody else fucking this pussy. Im going to make sure that this pretty pussy remembers my dick and its shape.” Obanai said hitting deeper parts. A white ring started to form around obanais dick.

“Awee look at that. This pussy is holding onto me for dear life.” He said, slapping your clit a couple times and then rubbing it. A whole bunch of pleases came out of your mouth before you felt something unfamiliar forming.

Obanai kept rubbing your pussy until you finally let go. Your pussy started spasming around his dick. Obanai let out a chuckle that turned into a hysterical laugh. “I got you to squirt.” He said, looking at his hand with your juices on them. His long tongue licked a stripe up his hand. “oh thats perfect.” He said, eyes rolling back at your taste.

“please tell me you’re done..” You said , drained. “We could be, but I still want to cum.” He said, putting a fake pout on his face. He began Thrusting into you again. You jerking with every thrust. He let out breathy moans and some occasional “fucks”

“ah.. fuck” He said, cumming deep inside you. Letting out a low groan.

“Fuck.. you.” You said out of breath. He pulled out and flipped you on your back. Grabbing your throat and prying your mouth open. “Take what I give you.” He said before spitting in your mouth. You’re eyes went wide. “Swallow it.” You obeyed like the perfect tsuguko you were. “Mhm thats right.” He said, looking at you with his different colored eyes. “You’re so beautiful mama.” He said before collapsing onto you. Leaving you a heated mess.

OHH MY GODDDD!! I FOUND THIS SO FREAKING ENTERTAINING WHILE WRITING BC SJESHVDHSJSN OWMEHEMsfndlslaoaJSHWJ OBANAI SUPREMACY

#obanai iguro #obanai x reader #black reader #iguro x reader #Obanai iguro x black reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #hashira smut #iguro x black reader #obanai x black reader

279 notes · View notes

ruified · 4 months

Text

i just finished reading osamu dazai and the dark era and now my eyes are stinging with the feeling of tears attempting to crawl their way out from behind them, and they may just succeed in that endeavor so let’s see how much i can type out with tears in my eyes

i miss my wife (oda bsd)

Somebody probably should've tied him up, pried his chest open, and stuffed a vacuum cleaner inside. Then, as he screamed and cried until they needed to punch him to shut him up, they'd suck every last bit out of his chest and stamp it into the ground.

But in reality, such a vacuum didn't exist. Chests don't open up like that, and no one is capable of such feats. What we see is every-thing, and everything we see, we ignore. All we can do is stand before the deep ditch between us and others and keep silent.

the way oda talks about dazai is consistently heart wrenching, he knows that despite all of dazai’s maturity, because he was forced to grow so fast, he’s still a child

just a child protecting his fragile little heart the way an adult would, simply replicating what he’d seen others do and what he’d been taught and expanding upon it

That was when Dazai first realized: Sakunosuke Oda understood him much more than he'd ever imagined-right up to his very heart, almost to the center of his mind. Dazai didn't realize until then that someone had known him so well.

it’s as if oda never realized that he knew dazai better than anyone, that he’d successfully reached out and touched the child protecting his heart

oda mentioned regretting not getting closer to dazai

The reason why Ango and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood.

But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading that solitude.

but in his final moments, that child in dazai reached out and asked for guidance, asked for oda to take his hand and point him in the next direction he believed was right because he trusted him

dazai thought so highly of oda because oda was always rather up front about everything, his feelings, what he was thinking, all of that. not once did oda try to use dazai, we find dazai sort of realizing this in the day i picked up dazai (which i read online not too long ago), and that’s what makes dazai like oda so much

they’re so important to me guys btw

With trembling fingers, Odasaku reached for the cigarettes in his pocket before sluggishly placing one in his mouth. By the time he pulled out a match, his fingers were too weak to hold it anymore. Dazai took the match and lit the cigarette for him.

Then Odasaku closed his eyes, smoking the cigarette as he smiled, filled to the brim with satisfaction.

The cigarette fell to the ground.

Dropping onto his knees by Odasaku's side, Dazai looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. His tightly shut lips faintly trembled. The smoke from the cigarette rose straight up to the top.

Nobody said a word.

READING THIS SHIT HITS HARDER THAN WATCHING IT THE ANIME FR DOES NOT CARRY THAT SAME IMPACT

something else they never included in the anime was THIS?????

In the middle of a verdant mountain trail atop a hill overlooking Yokohama was a cemetery with a view of the ocean. There were many new graves lined up-among them a small white burial marker without a name.

Dazai stood before the burial marker, dressed in black mourning clothes and holding a bouquet of white flowers.

"…….”

He squinted as the strong sea breeze suddenly gusted past.

The white flowers fluttered in the wind.

"I'll leave this photo here."

He took out a picture and placed it before the burial marker.

Frozen in time were the smiles of those three men.

"I really wish you could've tried that hard tofu I made..."

Dazai closed his eyes, then stood absolutely still, rooted to the spot.

GOD I FEEL ILL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DAZAI OSAMU

Dazai didn't say a word. That was just about the first time he'd ever been unable to articulate his feelings.

"I..."

this is like one of the first, if not the only time, we get a glimpse into what dazai is thinking and it’s honestly so important that we did it this moment

the anime doesn’t convey it as well just how emotionally driven dazai is in this moment, like, yes you can tell, but his struggle between what he knew was logically correct and what he felt is so important to know about

it also makes this part that he said to ango really ironic

"I always lose the things I don't want to lose the most. That's why I don't feel anything anymore. The moment you get your hands on something worth going after, you lose it."

"When I first saw him over in the slums, I was horrified. His talents are extraordinary, and his skill is extremely destructive. Plus, he's stubborn. If I'd left him to his own devices, he would've ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself."

Dazai didn't freely make people work under him, period; much less a boy on the verge of starvation in the slums. But Dazai seemed to have his own reasons for doing it.

the way dazai talks about akutagawa here is so interesting and you really gotta take it at face value because he has no reason to lie to oda, especially not about this

here’s dazai being oda’s number one fan

"Sakunosuke Oda... I know that guy," the subordinate with sunglasses added hesitantly. "Dazai, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but...I saw him sweeping behind the office the other day. A man of his status isn't qualified to be your friend, let alone contend with an enemy like this."

Dazai stared, flabbergasted, at his underling.

"Are you joking? Odasaku's not qualified?" Dazai asked, thoroughly surprised.

he’s so cute

now for some silly stuff

here’s oda describing things in terms of cats

Searching for a Mafia informant is on a completely different level from locating a missing pet cat (which I've actually done before, so I say this with confidence). If a cat runs away, then you can stake out a local feeding ground, but there was no way for me to even guess where Ango's "feeding ground" might be.

I had placed a foot on the staircase to the second floor, which looked as if it could come crumbling down at any moment, when I heard a sound coming from somewhere in the building. It was very faint, only about as loud as a kitten rolling on its back.

he’s such a guy

"I am André Gide. We ghosts came in search of... the one who will free our souls," the leader claimed.

…

"Well, I know this guy who works at a funeral home. I'm sure he'll give you a discount if I put in a word for you."

"Anyway, I feel for you, Odasaku. Not only did you run into the enemy's boss, but he made some serious advances toward you, too. At this rate, you guys will be married by the weekend."

"That's not what happened." At least, I hoped not. "They're just a group of weirdos who start wars for the sake of it."

"Oh? I think it's kinda cute, going to such lengths to plan another person's death. I never would've thought of doing that." There was more than a hint of amusement in his tone.

“at least, i hoped not” ODA 😭😭😭

i just love dazai in this specific moment, he’s so silly

"I found a handkerchief at the site of the explosion." Dazai grinned fiendishly. "There was a napkin from this place wrapped inside. It was completely obvious. Who would've thought spies used such dated methods, huh?"

Now that he mentioned it, I remembered lending Ango my handkerchief before I passed out. That must've been when he slipped the napkin in. I just thought I'd lost it.

BRO THOUGHT ANGO JUST LIKE GAVE HIM BACK THE NAPKIN TOO

"Man, that was hot. Why does curry have to be that hot?

Does it have something against mankind? More people would eat it if it were less spicy. This is negligence in food culture." I thought about it for a moment before answering. "If more people ate it, then nobody would eat anything else, thus completely destroying food culture as we know it."

"Makes sense." Dazai nodded, seemingly convinced.

"You hurt yourself on a block of tofu?"

He must have been in desperate need of some calcium.

"...Odasaku, that's exactly the problem right there. You're enabling Dazai. You don't speak up, and that's why he goes off the rails."

I see. So this was what Ango meant by "enabling" him. You learn something new every day.

i love how funny oda is without meaning to be like he fr just says shit 😭

anyways that was a really good read uhh made me really sad, also better than the anime ngl, oda was so much more badass and cool

#ෆ┊¡ notes from val #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #oda sakunosuke #dark era bsd #dark era dazai #bsd buraiha #buraiha trio #ango sakaguchi #bsd ango #bsd analysis

84 notes · View notes

t3ag3rs · 2 months

Text

g e n s o - 0 8.

you wipe the sweat of your lip, looking at the villian in front of you..

"kurogiri...? how could you let these brats get the best out of you?" questions the blue haired male. you look down at bakugou as he starts to rant again.

"you got careless you dumbass... it wasnt hard to figure you out." he pauses before starting again, "only certain parts of you turn into that smoky warp gate- you use that mist to hide your actual body- kinda like a distraction, thinking that makes you safe." he moves his face lower to the villian, "thats why we missed... but if you didnt have a body you wouldnt be wearing this neck armor right? you arent immune to physical attacks if theyre well aimed.."

the villian grunts and you snort, geez who wouldve known hes such a nerd... he sends an explosion through his palm as kurogiri attempts to move. "you try anything funny and ill blow your ass up right now... you hear me?" he grins menacingly.

you turn your attention back to the blue haired male standing in front of you all, "you all escaped unharmed and captured my two biggest weapons... you kids these days make us seem like animals..." he rasps.

"maybe cause you guys dont think things all that through ey..?" u retort, before you see the inhuman monster break through todorokis ice. you gasp as it starts regenerating the limbs it lost.

"what is that?" all might questions standing, "i thought he only had one quirk...?"

"i never said that... nomu was designed to be able to take you on.. even with 100% of your power..!" chuckles the blue haired male; shigakari. "but first we need to free our way of escape.." you widen your eyes as you register what he means.

you use your wind to pull bakugou to you right before the nomu reached him. you let out a loud gasp as the nomus punch sends you and everyone else flying. looking over, you see all might on the other side of you, "he mustve moved to save you as well.." u mutter to bakugou.

"you didnt even hold back with the kids...!" all might grunts, as he struggles to get back up.

"theyre no angels... that plain looking one right there tried to kill me with his punch..!" shigakari points, "thats quite unfair isnt it? just because you all label it as a heroic thing, everyone says its fine, but when someone else does it its automatically considered wrong..!" he pauses, "your just labeled as the 'symbol of peace' but you still use violence... and violence breeds into violence... ill make sure everyone knows that once your dead..!" he chuckles.

"villians like you always try to color their actions as noble.. but the truth is you just enjoy it..! isnt that right..?" all might yells.

"we've outnumbered them.." mutters todoroki as he readies himself along with the others. you get into a fighting stance until all might stops you, but before all might could respond todoroki speaks again, "you wouldve been in trouble before if we didnt help, remember..? you need our help."

"i thank you for your assistance, but this is different..." he pauses and looks back, "its gonna be all right... just sit back and watch a pro at work..!"

you frown, "but your injured... your bleeding..!" you plead not wanting all might to further injure himself. he gives you a thumbs up and you hold your breath as all might readies himself.

suddenly the nomu runs at all might and meets him with a punch that sends everyone flying back. you grunt as you try to hold yourself in place as they both brawl, almost perfectly mimicking each other. you widen your eyes as you realize every punch that follows the other is slightly stronger than before, he was going beyond 100% of his power.

the nomu goes flying back and all might goes after it, "a real hero..." he pauses as he grabs the arm of the nomu, "will always find a way to get justice to prevail..!" he finishes as he throws him down. you shut your eyes tightly as you fight against the tremors, "now i know youve heard these words before... but ill show you what they really mean.." he winds his arm back as the nomu runs at him.

"go beyond- PLUS ULTRA!" he yells as he sends a punch right into the nomus torso, sending it flying out the USJ.

you stand up gasping, "he beat the shock absorption right outta him!" praises kirishima, "ive never seen a shot like that before..!"

"imagine having power like that..! he mustve been punching him so fast he didnt have time to regenerate..." praises bakugou as he scowls.

you turn to find all might and rush towards him, "surrender... we all want to get this over with.." he speaks to shigakari. you stare as shigakari starts itching his neck out of frustration.

hes not giving up..! but all might cant stand in this form any longer...! you think as you look at all might struggling to keep up his form. suddenly, you see deku in the air with his arm winded back about to punch shigakari. you gasp as you see shigakaris hand being raised toward dekus face, but before you could react you hear a gunshot and see deku fall on the other side.

you turn and see that the back up finally came. "about damn time.." u grunt pulling all might back. u see multiple shots being fired, but kurogiri warps himself around shigakari.

the next thing you knew, thirteen was trying to suck up kurogiri, but sadly her attempts came to a fail as they teleported away.

you turn to all might and look at the injury near his stomach, "i can try to somewhat heal it right now..." you mutter out, rushing to get the water. "let me see the injury-" you ramble.

"nono.. its alright..." rasps all might placing his hand on your shoulder, attempting to reassure you. you shake your head urgently, "no..! its not! please just let me attempt too..!" u plead frustratingly.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after a couple of minutes, all might was taken back to ua privately so no one could see his real identity. you frown as you get bandaged for the minor injury you received on your arm.

"hey y/n..!" kirishima runs up to you, "are you alright..?" he asks worriedly, checking you for any other injuries.

you chuckle nodding, "im fine.. just frustrated i couldnt help all that much... i couldve tried and somewhat heal all might, but he didnt accept no matter how hard i tried.." u respond dejectedly.

he puts his hand on your shoulder smiling softly, "hey there.. dont be sad.. at least you tried right..? its the thought that counts!" he grins, "besides you were badass when we were dealing with those villians alongside bakugou!"

you nod smiling, "thanks kiri..."

"all right everyone..! we're heading back to ua now..!" exclaims iida, "get in the same spots you came to the USJ in!"

you groan silently as you walk inside realizing you would have to sit next to bakugou again. geez i helped save that boys life more than once, yet he still hasnt thanked me.. you frown.

you look out the window frowning before you hear bakugou sit next to you. "thanks..." he mumbles looking away.

you widen your eyes realizing what he said, "what..?" u gasp.

he groans, "i said thanks genso, god you deaf now too..?!" he seethes. you gulp scooting away a bit.

"my bad... but uh- your welcome...?" u mumble hesitantly.

he looks away not responding and you turn away not wanting to pester him anymore, you didnt wanna get on his bad side on the way back after what had happened. you close your eyes as the bus starts softly and starts to drive back.

god todays been a long day...

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 / pt. 04 / pt. 05 / pt. 06 / pt. 07 next parts: pt. 09 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12 / pt. 13

44 notes · View notes

whencyclopedia · 23 days

Photo

White Plume

White Plume is a hero tale of the Sioux nation featuring the supernatural trickster figure Unktomi (Iktomi) who serves as a catalyst for transformation, whether for good or ill. In this story, Unktomi is the villain whereas in others, such as The Bound Children, he is a force for good. The tale is among the most popular Sioux legends.

Text

The following is taken from Myths and Legends of the Sioux (1916) by Marie L. McLaughlin. It has been edited for space considerations, but the unabridged tale will be found below in the External Links section.

There once lived a young couple who were very happy. The young man was noted throughout the whole nation for his accuracy with the bow and arrow, and was given the title of "Dead Shot," or "He who never misses his mark," and the young woman, noted for her beauty, was named Beautiful Dove.

One day a stork paid this happy couple a visit and left them a fine big boy…Time passed, and the boy grew up to a good size, when one day his father said: "Wife, give our son the bow and arrows so that he may learn how to use them." The father taught his son how to string and unstring the bow, and also how to attach the arrow to the string. The red, blue and yellow arrows, he told the boy, were to be used only whenever there was any extra good shooting to be done, so the boy never used these three until he became a master of the art…

One day the boy came running into the tent, exclaiming: "Mother, mother, I have shot and killed the most beautiful bird I ever saw”…The parents decided to give a big feast in honor of their son killing the strange, beautiful bird…The guests soon arrived…The great chief and medicine men pronounced the bird "Wakan" (something holy)…, the chief and councilmen bestowed upon the boy the title of White Plume.

One day, a stranger came to the village, who was very thin and nearly starved…After he had eaten and rested, he told his story.

"I came from a very great distance," said he. "The nations where I came from are in a starving condition. No place can they find any buffalo, deer nor antelope. A witch or evil spirit in the shape of a white buffalo has driven all the large game out of the country…Another evil spirit in the form of a red eagle has driven all the birds of the air out of our country…Many a marksman has tried his skill on this bird, all to no purpose…Another evil spirit in the form of a white rabbit has driven out all the animals which inhabit the ground, and destroyed the fields of corn and turnips, so the nation is starving, as the arrows of the marksmen have also failed to touch the white rabbit. Anyone who can kill these three witches will receive as his reward, the choice of two of the most beautiful maidens of our nation. The younger one is the handsomer of the two and has also the sweetest disposition. Many young, and even old men, hearing of this (our chief's) offer, have traveled many miles to try their arrows on the witches, but all to no purpose. Our chief, hearing of your great marksmanship, sent me to try and secure your services to have you come and rid us of these three witches."

Thus spoke the stranger to the hunter. The hunter gazed long and thoughtfully into the dying embers of the campfire. Then slowly his eyes raised and looked lovingly on his wife who sat opposite to him. Gazing on her beautiful features for a full minute he slowly dropped his gaze back to the dying embers and thus answered his visitor:

"My friend, I feel very much honored by your chief having sent such a great distance for me, and also for the kind offer of his lovely daughter in marriage, if I should succeed, but I must reject the great offer, as I can spare none of my affections to any other woman than to my queen whom you see sitting there."

White Plume had been listening to the conversation and when his father had finished speaking, said: "Father, I am a child no more. I have arrived at manhood. I am not so good a marksman as you, but I will go to this suffering tribe and try to rid them of their three enemies. If this man will rest for a few days and return to his village and inform them of my coming, I will travel along slowly on his trail and arrive at the village a day or two after he reaches there."

"Very well, my son," said the father, "I am sure you will succeed, as you fear nothing, and as to your marksmanship, it is far superior to mine, as your sight is much clearer and aim quicker than mine."

The man rested a few days and one morning started off, after having instructed White Plume as to the trail. White Plume got together what he would need on the trip and was ready for an early start the next morning. That night, Dead Shot and his wife sat up away into the night instructing their son how to travel and warning him as to the different kinds of people he must avoid in order to keep out of trouble. "Above all," said the father, "keep a good look out for Unktomi (spider); he is the most tricky of all, and will get you into trouble if you associate with him."

White Plume left early, his father accompanying him for several miles. On parting, the father's last words were: "Look out for Unktomi, my son, he is deceitful and treacherous."

"I'll look out for him, father;" so saying, he disappeared over a hill.

On the way he tried his skill on several hawks and eagles, and he did not need to use his painted arrows to kill them, but so skillful was he with the bow and arrows that he could bring down anything that flew with his common arrows. He was drawing near to the end of his destination when he had a large tract of timber to pass through. When he had nearly gotten through the timber, he saw an old man sitting on a log, looking wistfully up into a big tree, where sat a number of prairie chickens.

"Hello, grandfather, why are you sitting there looking so downhearted?" asked White Plume. "I am nearly starved and was just wishing someone would shoot one of those chickens for me, so I could make a good meal on it," said the old man. "I will shoot one for you," said the young man. He strung his bow, placed an arrow on the string, simply seemed to raise the arrow in the direction of the chicken (taking no aim). Twang went out the bow, zip went the arrow, and a chicken fell off the limb, only to get caught on another in its descent.

"There is your chicken, grandfather."

"Oh, my grandson, I am too weak to climb up and get it. Can't you climb up and get it for me?"

The young man, pitying the old fellow, proceeded to climb the tree, when the old man stopped him, saying: "Grandson, you have on such fine clothes, it is a pity to spoil them; you had better take them off so as not to spoil the fine porcupine work on them."

The young man took off his fine clothes and climbed up into the tree, and securing the chicken, threw it down to the old man. As the young man was scaling down the tree, the old man said: "Iyashkapa, iyashkapa," (stick fast, stick fast). Hearing him say something, he asked, "What did you say, old man?" He answered, "I was only talking to myself."

The young man proceeded to descend, but he could not move. His body was stuck fast to the bark of the tree. In vain did he beg the old man to release him. The old Unktomi, for he it was, only laughed and said: "I will go now and kill the evil spirits, I have your wonderful bow and arrows and I cannot miss them. I will marry the chief's daughter, and you can stay up in that tree and die there."

So saying, he put on White Plume's fine clothes, took his bow and arrows, and went to the village. As White Plume was expected at any minute, the whole village was watching for him, and when Unktomi came into sight the young men ran to him with a painted robe, sat him down on it and slowly raising him up they carried him to the tent of the chief. So certain were they that he would kill the evil spirits that the chief told him to choose one of the daughters at once for his wife. (Before the arrival of White Plume, hearing of him being so handsome, the two girls had quarreled over which should marry him, but upon seeing him the younger was not anxious to become his wife.) So Unktomi chose the older one of the sisters and was given a large tent in which to live.

The younger sister went to her mother's tent to live, and the older was very proud, as she was married to the man who would save the nation from starvation. The next morning, there was a great commotion in camp, and there came the cry that the white buffalo was coming. "Get ready, son-in-law, and kill the buffalo," said the chief.

Unktomi took the bow and arrows and shot as the buffalo passed, but the arrow went wide off its mark. Next came the eagle, and again he shot and missed. Then came the rabbit, and again he missed.

"Wait until tomorrow, I will kill them all. My blanket caught in my bow and spoiled my aim."

The people were very much disappointed, and the chief, suspecting that all was not right, sent for the young man who had visited Dead Shot's tepee. When the young man arrived, the chief asked: "Did you see White Plume when you went to Dead Shot's camp?"

"Yes, I did, and ate with him many times. I stayed at his father's tepee all the time I was there," said the young man.

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" asked the chief.

"Anyone who had but one glimpse of White Plume would surely recognize him when he saw him again, as he is the most handsome man I ever saw," said the young man.

"Come with me to the tent of my son-in-law and take a good look at him, but don't say what you think until we come away."

The two went to the tent of Unktomi, and when the young man saw him, he knew it was not White Plume, although it was White Plume's bow and arrows that hung at the head of the bed, and he also recognized the clothes as belonging to White Plume. When they had returned to the chief's tent, the young man told what he knew and what he thought.

"I think this is some Unktomi who has played some trick on White Plume and has taken his bow and arrows and also his clothes, and hearing of your offer, is here impersonating White Plume. Had White Plume drawn the bow on the buffalo, eagle, and rabbit today, we would have been rid of them, so I think we had better scare this Unktomi into telling us where White Plume is," said the young man.

"Wait until he tries to kill the witches again tomorrow," said the chief.

In the meantime, the younger daughter had taken an axe and gone into the woods in search of dry wood. She went quite a little distance into the wood and was chopping a dry log. Stopping to rest a little she heard someone saying: "Whoever you are, come over here and chop this tree down so that I may get loose."

Going to where the big tree stood, she saw a man stuck onto the side of the tree. "If I chop it down the fall will kill you," said the girl. "No, chop it on the opposite side from me, and the tree will fall that way. If the fall kills me, it will be better than hanging up here and starving to death," said White Plume, for it was he.

The girl chopped the tree down and when she saw that it had not killed the man, she said: "What shall I do now?"

"Loosen the bark from the tree and then get some stones and heat them. Get some water and sage and put your blanket over me." She did as told and when the steam arose from the water being poured upon the heated rocks, the bark loosened from his body and he arose. When he stood up, she saw how handsome he was.

"You have saved my life," said he. "Will you be my wife?"

"I will," said she.

He then told her how the old man had fooled him into this trap and took his bow and arrows, also his fine porcupine worked clothes, and had gone off, leaving him to die. She, in turn, told him all that had happened in camp since a man, calling himself White Plume, came there and married her sister before he shot at the witches, and when he came to shoot at them, missed every shot. "Let us make haste, as the bad Unktomi may ruin my arrows."

They approached the camp and whilst White Plume waited outside, his promised wife entered Unktomi's tent and said: "Unktomi, White Plume is standing outside, and he wants his clothes and bow and arrows."

"Oh, yes, I borrowed them and forgot to return them; make haste and give them to him."

Upon receiving his clothes, he was very much provoked to find his fine clothes wrinkled and his bow twisted, while the arrows were twisted out of shape. He laid the clothes down, also the bows and arrows, and passing his hand over them, they assumed their right shapes again.

The daughter took White Plume to her father's tent and, upon hearing the story, he at once sent for his warriors and had them form a circle around Unktomi's tent, and if he attempted to escape to catch him and tie him to a tree, as he (the chief) had determined to settle accounts with him for his treatment of White Plume, and the deception employed in winning the chief's eldest daughter.

About midnight, the guard noticed something crawling along close to the ground and seizing him found it was Unktomi trying to make his escape before daylight, whereupon they tied him to a tree. "Why do you treat me thus," cried Unktomi, "I was just going out in search of medicine to rub on my arrows, so I can kill the witches." "You will need medicine to rub on yourself when the chief gets through with you," said the young man who had discovered that Unktomi was impersonating White Plume.

In the morning, the herald announced that the real White Plume had arrived, and the chief desired the whole nation to witness his marksmanship. Then came the cry: "The White Buffalo comes." Taking his red arrow, White Plume stood ready. When the buffalo got about opposite him, he let his arrow fly. The buffalo bounded high in the air and came down with all four feet drawn together under its body, the red arrow having passed clear through the animal, piercing the buffalo's heart. A loud cheer went up from the village.

"You shall use the hide for your bed," said the chief to White Plume.

Next came a cry, "The eagle, the eagle." From the north came an enormous red eagle. So strong was he, that as he soared through the air his wings made a humming sound as the rumble of distant thunder. On he came, and just as he circled the tent of the chief, White Plume bent his bow, with all his strength drew the arrow back to the flint point and sent the blue arrow on its mission of death. So swiftly had the arrow passed through the eagle's body that, thinking White Plume had missed, a great wail went up from the crowd, but when they saw the eagle stop in his flight, give a few flaps of his wings, and then fall with a heavy thud into the center of the village, there was a greater cheer than before.

"The red eagle shall be used to decorate the seat of honor in your tepee," said the chief to White Plume.

Last came the white rabbit. "Aim good, aim good, son-in-law," said the chief. "If you kill him, you will have his skin for a rug." Along came the white rabbit, and White Plume sent his arrow in search of rabbit's heart, which it found, and stopped Mr. Rabbit's tricks forever.

The chief then called all of the people together and before them all took a hundred willows and broke them one at a time over Unktomi's back. Then he turned him loose. Unktomi, being so ashamed, ran off into the woods and hid in the deepest and darkest corner he could find. This is why Unktomis (spiders) are always found in dark corners, and anyone who is deceitful or untruthful is called a descendant of the Unktomi tribe.

#History #Sioux

48 notes · View notes

mushroomnoodles · 4 months

Note

tw bodily fluids

was simons pregnancy more painful than any other ones?? was there a gigantic mess of like blood and "other stuff"?? like.. birth takes soo long to do seriously like 4-8 HOURS on average or are we just gonna like not include this for the sake of not being nauseous ( + old mans remaining sanity )

tw/cw for sfw and non kink mpreg, as well as labor, water breaking.. and discussion of birth details + injury while trying to keep it vague.

ill go into it once- yeah, it's pretty safe to say simon had a rough time with the labor. i've stated this before, but he was experiencing labor pains for a few days before he went into active labor- see, he didn't think much of it because every now and then his body would try to have morrigan and be unable to because of the seal, so braxton hicks and actual false labor was.. not something he was unfamiliar with.

it wasn't until the contractions got so bad they were nearly debilitating and he felt morri shift inside him to get ready to be born that he went, oh no, oh no no no, he's having the baby.

more under the cut, there's art down there too but like heed the tags. i'm still trying to keep the discussion.. not super heavy.

we all know what happened next, with marceline bringing him into the woods and not being able to make it. because like, right after she set him down, his water broke.

blah blah, they run into finn, explain simon is like, pregnant and about to give birth, set up a location, and then simon (and marcy) are faced with another problem.

it's pretty obvious to everyone that simon's bump was huge. morri is huge. the actual place they'd be born from.. not so much. but that doesn't dissuade morri, who has been trying to get that gd seal off them for months, and is not going to waste another second hiding in their old man. things are going super fast.

and things do not look great down there. marcy is totally winging this delivering a baby thing. simon kept going from silence- just trying to ride through the contractions, to screaming like a dying animal. marceline was terrified the whole time, especially when simon said he felt like he was gonna rip open.

(pretend the fallen tree is behind simon.)

so yeah, it was pretty messy. simon did not make giving birth to a twelve pound baby out unscathed, he definitely tore. when morri was out marceline gave him what little medical attention she could, which honestly wasn't a lot- pb had to do some quick fixing when she showed up, and i don't think he would've made it if not for the cosmic energy radiating through him from carrying morrigan.

it was a good while before simon recuperated enough to be moved, and it sorta spooked everyone when he just.. got up like he didn't just finish pushing out a 12 pound baby. those pain meds were a godsend, by the way, simon was never happier for them in his entire life.

victory! they got him home and in bed with his brand new baby, and marceline stuck by for a few weeks to help take care of morri while simon healed. simon was zonked out but very happy to have a baby in his arms, his baby.

also bonus: simon wakes up the next morning

he feels like five trains ran through his entire lower half. homedawg lived on those pain relievers from that point on

#i have a mproblem #a #cw mpreg #tw mpreg #mpreg #simon petrikov mpreg #golbaby #tw labor #cw labor #cw bodily fluids #plainvanilla

120 notes · View notes

coltermorning · 8 months

Text

Of Love and Loss Ch. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Unsure in your decision to leave your parents, you fight your mind and your ailing body, doubting your next steps alongside the new stranger.

Author’s Notes: Chapter two of this one. This story is set a few years before the game, so the gang members will reflect that. There are descriptions of illness and injury in this chapter.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Two: Spiting Survival

Word count: 3408

Found a girl out on the trail this morning. Well, woman I should say, only she’d just lost her parents to a nasty fall off a cliff. She somehow survived it. And now she’s with me, more wild animal than woman, holding on best she can to survive.

Don’t know why I felt the need to play hero. Maybe Dutch and Hosea will know what to do with her, as it has become increasingly obvious I do not.

The stranger—Arthur—had a little brown book not so different from your father’s. He had just finished scribbling something in it when your restlessness gave way and you finally sat beside the fire he had built.

He stashed the book, eyeing you. “You wanna eat something? You got to be hungry.”

It was night, a long day of traveling behind you. It seemed the folks this man ran with were quicker than most caravans of that size—you hadn’t run into them yet.

You shook your head. As hungry as you were, you couldn’t eat. It would just come right back up.

“You need to eat,” he pushed. He didn’t understand it. Any of it. You were exhausted, starved, pained. Each of those things helped distract you when distraction was as precious as gold. It was taking all you had not to turn right back around and walk all the way you had come.

You just looked at him, long enough to make him shake his head at you in defeat. Good. You wanted to be left alone. The sole reason you had agreed to come with him was beginning to be lost on you with every step away from that godforsaken bridge.

The fire took your attention as the night air closed in. You and your parents had left Montana too late in the year, autumn biting at your heels all the way. It would snow soon. You felt a brief moment of panic, knowing it would bury their graves deep enough for them to be difficult to find. But there was the tree. You wouldn’t forget that worn pine.

A popping sound drew your eyes—the man had opened a can of food and was holding it out to you. You stared, refusing to take it. He sighed in annoyance and got up, walking to you and setting it down at your feet with more force than necessary. He held your gaze, a hard determination in his own. “Eat.” He didn’t wait to see if you would obey before turning toward his bedroll. He settled on top of it, punching his makeshift pillow too hard. “And get some rest. I ain’t slowing pace tomorrow.”

You were torn by that. Where did you go from here? When you did catch up to that caravan, you knew you couldn’t bear to stay with them. So it would be onto the next town. Then what? Struggle to make a living as a working girl or a maid? You were better off in the woods. You had been raised on a small homestead, hunting every meal, working with your hands. You didn’t know anything else. It was foolish to think some little life in a town would suit you. You wondered if you could make it to Nebraska somehow, but that journey would take weeks. Maybe months given the snow.

You knew what you really desired—what you had dreamed of since you were old enough to dream of such things. But your parents hadn’t wanted that life for you. Montana was too far behind you anyway.

At the thought of your parents, you shook off the longing within you and looked to the can of food at your feet. Just as with them, the least you could do was try. No matter how much it pained you.

You took the can—beans—and ate with held breath, forcing it down. It was misery, but you finished the whole thing then got up to resume your pacing. It kept the cold off and your relentless thoughts at bay.

You walked over to the man’s horse, a fine beast he called Boadicea. She was watchful but not spooky, keeping a close eye on your approach. You held out a hand to her. She reluctantly sniffed it. Being with her felt natural. Easy. The sole thing to feel that way. You gave her a few strokes against her broad neck then stepped away. Needing to move again. To shake off the constant dread within you, namely due to the remembrance of your own stallion. You were glad you hadn’t looked to see the state of him. You didn’t think you could stomach that. Though, that thought brought on the sharp image of your mother’s bent leg. You got all of two steps before you felt your stomach turn. The feeling reminded you of falling, and you were suddenly back there, the world upside down, everything you knew raining down.

You vomited every bit of your dinner, still heaving when there was nothing left to rid yourself of.

Morning came, and you had hardly slept. You could hardly function. Each thought was a broken pane of the present and the past shattering against each other. Speech, movement, survival, it was all lost. All to the truth of things.

“You all right back there?”

You were staring, dead eyed, at nothing as you rode. Hands clenched around the man’s coat so tight you couldn’t feel your fingers. You would fall if you let go. You would not fall again.

The man turned in your grip, throwing you a glance you couldn’t make out as you wouldn’t meet it.

“Ain’t gonna pass out on me are you?”

Endless questions. You longed for the day he would give up trying.

His horse trotted on, the sun rising higher and higher. It was hours before you heard voices. Wagons.

“Look who it is,” a man said. The confident voice caught your attention, and you met its owner with hesitant eyes. “And who’s this?”

“We got a passenger,” your savior responded. If that was what he could be called.

“So I heard.” The man turned his horse back to join the two of you. It was only when he got close that you could make out the look in his eye—curiosity. Too much of it. “Name’s Mac.”

You just stared.

“She ain’t much of a talker I’m afraid. Where’s Dutch? I need a word.”

The man nodded ahead. “Second from the front. Says we’ll be stopping soon.”

The mare picked up her pace below you, rounding the rearmost wagon. You were glad to be out from under the scrutiny of one pair of eyes, but soon came more. Many more. And with all the staring came the grounding present, your reality thrust upon you without warning. It was exhausting. You turned away, looking to the wood line, clinging to the stranger.

The horse eventually slowed. “Hi, Dutch.” You refused to look, to put a name to a face.

“Arthur. I was beginning to worry,” said a deep voice, one of the two men who had come down on the wagon yesterday.

“Oh, we managed just fine. You made good timing.”

“So we have. We’re stopping soon to water the horses, set up camp for the night. Hosea says there’s a good spot down the way.”

“Dry and warm,” said another voice. The older man. “It’ll do for now. And how’d you get on? I see you still have your friend there.”

“Indeed,” said the man you rode with. Arthur. Thought it felt wrong to call him that. “Like I said, we managed. I figured she could stay with us ‘til she figures out what she wants to do.”

“Sure,” the older man replied. “What’s one more?”

Arthur laughed. “You got that right.”

The proud voice, Dutch, spoke again. “Why don’t you ride on ahead Arthur, pick us out a good spot to land this makeshift menagerie? The girl can stay with us.”

You tightened your grip, hard enough for the man to take notice. You wouldn’t be left behind with these strangers.

“Uh, I think it’s probably best we both go.” He nodded toward you. “She’s still a little skittish.”

The man chuckled in response. “Whatever you say.”

You were being ridden away from the sound of all those creaking wagons before you so much as breathed again.

“So.” It was taking all your energy to listen. To keep the thought of broken boards and bodies out of your head. “What is your plan exactly? You staying with us?”

You shook your head. He of course couldn’t see it.

After a beat, the man sighed and reached for the satchel strapped across him. He pulled something out of it and passed it over his shoulder—your mother’s necklace. Your mind went numb with it, with the shine she always polished into it. She was so proud of that necklace that she never even wore it, too afraid to break it or lose it. How was it here?

“Figure these belong to you. Wouldn’t have taken them if I’d known you were-”

“Keep it.” You were shoving the necklace back in his hand, preventing him from pulling out some other item you couldn’t bear to look at. All you needed was the ledger. The rest was too painful to think about.

“Okay.” He seemed surprised. Let him be. You were too busy feeling regret curl within you again, your last words spoken no longer to your parents. It was a silly thing, but it felt like all you had to hold onto. So you clamped your mouth shut again, refusing to utter another word.

After less than twenty minutes, the man slowed his horse. “Here we are. This is a good spot.” You looked over his shoulder at the small clearing, a river running near it. It would be a good place to keep all those wagons and people. The thought had you retreating in on yourself, ready to bolt. You had nowhere else to go, but you considered it. Maybe they had an extra horse somewhere you could leave on. The idea of the next town certainly felt more doable than this. Than all those eyes on you, looking at the woman who had cheated death.

The man circled around a few times before letting his horse walk over to the water and drink. The river was small, barely a creek. You would normally appreciate it after all this travel, but you couldn’t think of that now. Now came a decision—what to do with yourself. For the rest of your life. And now was a better time than any being away from all those people. You slid off the horse, landing softly on your feet, preparing to speak. It was inevitable now. The man looked down at you, and you forced yourself to look up at him.

“I need to be going.”

He frowned, a more annoyed-looking thing than an upset one. “And you plan on, what, walking it from here?”

You looked to your feet, not knowing how to answer. It made him sigh, like he had to do it to regain his patience. “We’re headed down to Colorado, should be a little less than a month. Why not just come with us? We got plenty of food and shelter. It’ll be a lot easier on you.”

You were beginning to think he was a little ignorant. Either that or stubborn. He didn’t get it.

“No.”

He stared this time. Then, “No, huh? Well I’m sorry, but I can’t-”

“I have family. In Nebraska.”

He considered you. “That’s quite a trip.”

It wasn’t much farther than Colorado. You weren’t about to mention where in Nebraska though, that it would take more than a month.

He shook his head when you didn’t answer. “Just let them get here, get yourself settled for the night. Then you can decide whether you want to lose all this or not.”

Wrong choice of words. You’d already lost everything. You left him sitting there atop his horse, storming away toward the nearby trees. It was taking everything in you to keep your anger driving things, to keep the reason for your miserable circumstances at a distance.

You hid like a coward when the wagons pulled in, going deeper into the woods so as not to be confronted. It was probably ruining your chances of getting any help from these people, but you didn’t care. Surviving your innermost thoughts was all that was left. This was the only way to make things bearable.

The day went on, and your exhaustion from such little sleep the night before began to catch up to you. You had been hungry for a while now, the pain in your side throbbing for hours, but you ignored them both. The nearby river caught your attention instead.

You walked over to it, taking a glove off and brushing your fingers against the water. It was freezing. The shock of it made you suck in a breath, and the motion had your side stitching up in teeth-gritting pain. You knew then you had to tend to it or likely die of it.

You made to peel your coat away and winced. Not from the pain—it revealed blood underneath, dried against your shirt where it stuck out from under your vest. You hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in everything else to worry about yourself.

You reluctantly unbuttoned your vest, then your shirt. Pulled up your chemise. You braced yourself, reaching for where the pain was worst.

“Looks like you’re banged up pretty good there.”

You whipped around to the sound of the unfamiliar voice—the man from before. Mac? He was staring at your side, at the blood giving you away now that your coat wasn’t hiding it.

Panic rose up in your throat like bile, half-choking you with fear. You didn’t want him here. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t run. Just stood there staring at him.

“Easy there, I come in peace.” He held up his hands as if in surrender but stepped closer. Caging you in against the river. “You need to tend to whatever’s making you bleed like that.”

You knew it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Each subtle movement of breath against your ribs revealed dried, cracked blood. But the wound would reopen if this man got any closer, for you would be sprinting away from him any second.

“Mac, leave the woman alone.” This from the lone voice you were familiar with. Arthur. Come to rescue you a second time. He walked out of the woods and set a hand on the other man’s shoulder, stopping his approach.

“I weren’t doing nothing but trying to help. Look at her.”

Arthur’s eyes landed on you, on your side all bloodied. They narrowed. You fought the urge to run again.

“Go back in camp, would you?” he asked the other man, never taking his eyes off you. “You’re scaring her off.”

“You go back in camp,” the man shot back.

“Mac,” Arthur warned, looking him in the eye. There was no room for argument in his voice.

The other man scoffed and shoved Arthur’s hand away, grumbling under his breath as he turned back. You watched him go, breathing coming easier with his every step away. The stranger didn’t seem overly threatening. You just couldn’t bear to be near him. Near anyone for that matter, except, seemingly, for the one who had rescued you. Buried your parents. Ridden you all this way.

“Sorry about him,” he said, not coming any closer. Like he saw escape written across your face. “He means well.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t be so sure.

“That don’t look so good.” He pointed to the deep red staining your shirt. The motion drew your eyes to it, and where you were scared to look before, you did now. You shouldn’t have. You felt your stomach turn again.

Your entire side was black with one giant bruise. In the middle lay scraping lines of red leading to a cut so jagged it was a wonder the bleeding had stopped. You were accosted with memory, the reason behind such injury—falling, hitting the wagon, nearly passing out from the pain of it before you hit the ground.

The wagon had broken your fall.

“I can get someone to tend to that. Bring you some supplies.”

The words were meaningless. The wagon had kept you from death, and this mangled black and red mass was all you had to show for it. The only thing keeping you alive. You suddenly fell to your knees over the reality of it, feeling sickness push up your throat. Your empty stomach prevented anything from coming up, and you sat there heaving again, just as you had the night before.

“Wait right there. I’ll get help.”

“No,” you choked out.

“Don’t be stubborn. You need-”

“No.”

Your body gave up trying to expel what wasn’t there, and you looked over at the man, breaths coming in sharp and painful.

He shook his head at you. Then approached. “Let me see then.”

You moved back. He kept coming anyway. You didn’t have it in yourself to fight him. Too weakened by the idea that you would be with your parents now if it weren’t for this injury.

The man came over and pulled your shirt to the side, your bunched-up chemise higher.

“Shit.” You watched his face. The concern in his eyes. “This could have killed you.”

Maybe so. Maybe you’d been hoping for that.

“We gotta get this stitched up or the skin’ll die. It’s a wonder it ain’t infected already.”

All just words, white noise. Meaningless in the grand scheme of things. If it weren’t for this ugly wound, you’d be at peace now. You felt a sob escape you as you knelt even lower, pushing the man’s hands away. He let you down, and you curled in on yourself, overcome by it. If only you’d fallen differently. Been sitting with your parents instead of on the back. Then the wagon wouldn’t have been in the way of the one thing you longed so deeply for.

Sobs shook your shoulders, but no tears escaped. Like you’d cried them all away.

“I’m gonna go get something for that wound. Stay here.”

You didn’t have to be told. You didn’t even have it in you to move.

You were a mess of memory and pain when the man returned, his hand finding your shoulder and rolling you onto your back.

“This is going to hurt,” he said. Let it.

You kept your eyes shut tight, afraid of what you were letting him do. Mending you. But your fear and your grief and your agony were all bundled up so tightly within you that you stayed still.

You felt something wet push against the edges of the wound, drawing a sharp breath from you. The bruise was the worst part. Any higher and you would have shattered your ribs. But instead you were a beaten hull, nothing left underneath. Nothing that mattered.

The pressure got to be too much. You tried to push his hands away.

“Stay still,” he demanded. You pushed again. “This ain’t even the worst part. Either you let me do it, or I’ll go get someone else.”

That stopped your protests.

After another minute of brutal pressure, he let out a short breath, like he was steeling himself. You forced yourself to keep your eyes closed for what came next.

“I ain’t the best at this.”

His voice was smaller than you’d ever heard it. You didn’t need that.

“Just do it,” you hissed.

Then there was pain, sharp and pinpointed on the skin that was already so shredded. Then it threaded, and happened again, and soon you were shoving your fist in your mouth to have something to bite down on. You cried out. It was getting worse, pain on top of pain. Tumbling into the harshness of all that had happened, trauma of the mind colliding into your will. It was too much. All of it. Your felt your body finally begin to give up. You clung onto the feeling with all you had, praying for death to take you.

You called out to your parents with one final breath, darkness closing in on the pain and on your mind until you unraveled and were no more.

_________

Chapter three is here.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

99 notes · View notes