i used to blog for frank

It’s almost impossible to upload pictures to Tumblr using my kindle.. I can’t even message on it , urgh!

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I’d pick blue or purple.

anonymous asked:

Dear Archy, first of all I love your blog, you put so much effort into it! This semester we were asked to design a one -family, one-storey house of water (and/or partially on ground), do you know any interesting projects /inspirations that I could use? I want it to be original and different in shape than others but I don't have any good ideas

Here are some residential projects inspired by their proximity to water:

Fallingwater Frank Lloyd Wright

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anonymous asked:

what do u associate with ppl who like each iasip duo ?

this is just my onion but

macdennis: emo 98% of the time, sucker for religious symbolism, ‘mood’ is the only word in ur vocabulary, who’s frank?
dee and dennis (nothing sexual!!!!!): ur bitter, ur probably bisexual, 50 asterisks in tags of posts ft glenn howerton
macdee: ur gay, struggle with internalized glirstphobia, fuck an ap bio
deetress: ur REALLY gay, u listen to halsey, u watch the mick, never heard of charlie and frank
chardee: u love ditty, unquenchable thirst for charlie when he’s covered in dirt and trash, fuck a dennis
charden: a serial keysmasher, dnd, the front bottoms, never used an emoji in ur life
charmac: stressed, nostalgic for things that didnt happen to u, very very passionate, has 2 fists
dee/dennis and frank: u dont exist
charlie and frank: would die for charlie, still makes bird/egg jokes, whats coffee town?
frankmac: cursed, u’ve watched breaking bad, delete ur blog

Yuzuru Hanyu, World Figure Skating Championships 2017 (Free Skate)

This costume may be partially responsible for the existence of this blog. In that late one night I was reading various people’s lists of best and worst costumes of the season so far, and I got extremely offended by someone who not only put this on their worst list, but used it as part of a rant against “ruffles, glitter and sequins” being a plague on figure skating or some such nonsense.

To which I say, if you hate ruffles, glitter and sequins, what are you even doing reviewing figure skating costumes?

My inner six year old loves this costume, and although my inner six year old also loves Lisa Frank unicorns this is my most instinctual metric for grading, and I feel it is as valid a basis as any other. 

PRETTY COLORS, SHOULDER RUFFLE, SPAAAARKLES.

I’ve seen people complain about the shoulder ruffle, saying it seems unnecessary and even comparing it to a large tissue, but personally I’m in favor of it. It adds to the feeling of ocean waves and sea spray to me, which I have to think was intentional. 

Grade: A+

n1njarapt0r  asked:

Hello, I really appreciate your blog and frank discussion of mental illness. I just got prescribed anti-depressants and will start taking them tomorrow. I am terrified. Any words of advice?

I can only speak to my personal experience, but I think it’s normal and totally reasonable to be somewhere in the continuum of worried to terrified. You’ve gotten used to your brain and your reality being a particular way, and you’re about to begin a journey that will change that. It’s changing it for the better, and I know that you’re going to feel better, but it’s still a pretty fundamental change so it’s normal to be apprehensive about it.

When I started my meds, I was able to take a day off, just in case my body reacted strangely. Luckily, it didn’t, and I ended up watching a whole lot of Adventure Time without feeling like I was wasting the day. But it may be different for you, and that’s okay. Some people need a day or a week to adjust, and even when it’s tough, it’s worth it. 

You may also feel nothing for up to three weeks. That’s also normal and it’s also okay. In my experience, it was less like a switch being pushed and more like a sudden realization that the lights had slowly come on in a very dark room, but they’d come on so gently and slowly I didn’t realize they were on until the moment I could see the door out.

It helped me to have Anne to talk to while I was adjusting to life with brain pills. Maybe it’ll help you to have someone you can talk to who you trust, too.

If you just take one thing away from this, though, please let it be this: it’s completely reasonable to be apprehensive, and I’m super proud of you for having the courage to help yourself get better, anyway.

Let me know how it goes, okay?

pjo/hoo psa

okay okay okay, usually i keep this blog strictly solangelo but i gotta say something. in aus & headcanons & all that cool stuff it’s all good & fine to make everybody in the pjo series bffs. but i want us to remember it is not canon. percy & jason are very alike & are more often than not a little at odds. frank? didn’t really get close to anyone beides hazel. leo? could’ve had amazing characterization, but is mostly use as comic relief. nico makes leo uncomfortable. annabeth is hard to talk to & is stuck up & comes across as naturally rude. hazel is usually the one that is actually how the fandom makes her out to be, a little sweet nugget. piper made the most progress i would say, with working on not hiding herself & tried to actually be apart of the moment. percy is intimidating , he is not some marshmallow who’s fun & easy to talk to. jason is a natural leader & while sometimes he’s a mom he’s also gonna be direct & not beat around the bush. let’s remember that each character is different & they don’t all mesh. because isn’t that what makes the stories so interesting? to see how they all work together even though they’re not so alike?

A Mother's Day for the Rest of Us

As I typed the title, I’m instantly reminded of the Seinfeld episode, and Frank Costanza’s holiday Festivus (a replacement for Christmas). He was annoyed by the commercialization of Christmas, so he observes his own celebration (minus the distracting tinsel). Anywho.

I can’t have kids. I found out when I was 32, when I was plunged unceremoniously into menopause (that journey deserves its own blog, tbh).

I’m one of millions of women who are infertile, so that doesn’t make me special. It doesn’t make me anything. I always wanted kids. I still do. I always thought I had time. I was wrong.

Mother’s Day rolls around every year, and I’m reminded every year by nearly every ad agency, Facebook frame, or well-meaning checker in your local big box store of my biological inadequacy. It does not bother me like it once did, although that gentle, sad trauma memory tugs a little harder in those moments… That memory of a 32 year old me sitting alone in a specialist’s office as he told me my eggs had died.

“They died.”

It’s such a finite phrase. So terminal. So indisputable. There is no “but” that can follow it. The period on that sentence rings in the deafening silence with an echo that follows for years after (I’ll let you know when I stop hearing it). My genetic material..my future children… Gone.

What has changed for me, though, is a an increased awareness of what Mother’s Day means or can mean to every woman. Like any holiday, it can be one of joy or pain or discomfort. We don’t all have good relationships with our mothers, or some of us have lost ours. If you love and have loved in a way that is pure and profound, be it experiencing the love of a child or an animal, then I hazard to say you have experienced a mother’s love. I believe I have. Natural selection may have taken away my ability to procreate, but I can most certainly reproduce love.

Somewhere today a woman is grieving a lost child. Somewhere a couple awaits news of a fertility test, or a mother is on bedrest from a high risk pregnancy, or a single mom is working a weekend job to support her children and she forgot it was even Mother’s Day. Somewhere some barren non-traditional mother pours her heart out into the far reaches of the Internet b/c she’s thinking of other people just like her.

If you read this and you know someone like that, tell them you hope they have the best day ever, and that you think they are amazing.

ID #83295

Name: Arie
Age: 15
Country: USA

So I can start off by saying this is going to be pretty awkward because I’m a pretty awkward person. One thing that I am really passionate about is music, I listen to all genres(besides country oops) I like artist like (the neighbourhood, blink-182- bring me the horizon, the brobecks, little sea, frank ocean, tyler the creator, Halsey, logic, and a hella lot more). I am really into all arts though. I paint, draw, write, dance, sing, act, take pictures, and some other stuff that I can’t remember for some reason. I am a feminist. I am also the queen of procrastination, for example, i’m filling this out instead of starting my 4 page paper that’s due tomorrow. I should probably start that actually. But anyways I am really random and can probably hold a conversation for hours if I’m comfortable enough. I’m also up for deep conversations if ya want. I think this has mainly made me realise I don’t know how to describe myself well.

Preferences: I would prefer someone around my age (14-17) and preferably male but any gender is fine. I would prefer if we talked mostly internet based but if you’re in the US some letters are cool too. Also, you gotta be down for the word y'all. No racism, homophobia, sexism/misogyny, any discrimination in general.

omgggg i love these questions sm @queerofcups thx for tagging me :) 

rules:
1. always post the rules.
2. answer the questions given by the person who tagged you.
3. write 11 questions of your own.
4. tag 11 people (or however many you want)

  1. what are 3 things we wouldn’t be able to guess about you from your blog? lol this is hard bc i share like. everything on this blog. ummmm. my parents voted for bush both times. i was unhealthily obsessed with hannah montana and wizards of waverly place even in like freshman year of high school. i’m just gonna be honest. and i am currently answering these in athens, greece :0  
  2. what are 3 songs i should listen to right this second? i feel like you probs have amazing taste in music so i wish you were giving me 3 song recs but uh: ‘rushes’ by frank ocean bc all of endless is underrated; ‘get good (infinitefreefall remix)’ bc it is a jam and the sax hook is amazing; ‘1990X’ by maxwell bc it’s been my go-to shower song lately
  3. how long have you been on tumblr? since 2012
  4. what’s your second favorite color? a v pale purple probably (like the one that i use for my blog theme??) 
  5. what’s your favorite item of clothing? this giant ass sweater that is basically a blanket w sleeves. it is black and white and v comfy n warm
  6. what’s the last tv show you watched? skam
  7. what’s your ideal vacation location? i wanna go to morocco v badly
  8. what’s been your favorite fandom you’ve been in? (if you don’t have more than one, what’s your fave thing about this fandom?) this is definitely my first ‘fandom’ experience. i think my fav thing is how creative and smart so many people are and how widely accepting of people w varying identities and whatnot. it’s super hard to find such a universally supportive space in the real world. 
  9. what’s an item of clothing you could throw out right now and not miss at all? a lot of my clothes are quite old and not rly what i want to be wearing but i’m too lazy to go shopping so like. probs most of my clothes honestly 
  10. what’s your favorite item of food from a different culture? pad kee mao i think i have it like once a week
  11. do you crack your knuckles? nah but it also doesn’t rly bother me when other people do it

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What's the worst one you've gotten or one of the worst ones

haven’t gotten many bad nsfw asks?? i just used to get a whole lot of very nsfw frerard asks and i’ve tried to cut that out of my blog after careful consideration of my age and the age of the people following me.

one i rremember tho said frank walked in the van when gerard was getting off but gerard had brought lube cause he was a “responsible meat jacker” and that phrase has really stuck with me to the point that one of my group chats is called responsible meat jackers

anonymous asked:

Ill be honest. Im one of the lift blogs. I know. I know. It's terribly wrong. I'm not gonna defend the lifting peeps theres some REALLY spoiled fucks out there *cough20eyeshadowpallettesatoncecough* But lemme be straight with you. There are genuine role players out there. I'm kinda one of them. I RP stealing the cool stuff and the makeup and electronics. But in reality I only really steal bread and lunch meats and such. There's a few like me. It's hard to support family and feed them ya know>>

>>? And of course I’m staying anon for obvious reasons but to be dead serious I despise the lifters who actually go out and steal like 30 eyeshadow pallettes at a time from the same brand just to sell them. That’s organized retail crime and that’s more than petty theft. I’ve stolen a chapstick here and there and I’ve admittedly once taken a high end lipstick. But I stick to food. Basics. Bread. Meat. Cheese. Fruit. It’s so fucked my situation involves my entire paycheck going to my poor mother>>

>>. It’s a long story behind that. Idk. Like I said I needed to get all that out. There are a few blogs who are actually just all role play or “glamour roleplay” (like i am. Stealing food or like barely anything but rping stealing a lot)… so yeah. I’m sorry. There’s such a big difference between the spoiled brat lifters and the desperate lifters. It’s hard to tell with the blogs. Everyone wants to be the big cool guys who everyone looks up to. So a lot of us fake it. Again im sorry

I don’t want the sob story. Because to be frank, I don’t believe you. And since you’re obviously on one of those lists, you’re following and cheering on the ones that steal. You’re encouraging stealing as something fun to do. You claim to be disgusted by the others, but you’re happy to have others think that you do the same, glamorising crime, allowing people to think that you’re real.

People that desperate to steal never brag about theft, because they’re stealing to survive. And either they keep it hidden because they’re ashamed, or they admit it to ask for help so they don’t have to keep doing it – unless they’re on the street and have no other choice.

So, no, I don’t believe you, and the only thing that you can do to show how sorry and disgusted you really are is by deleting your theft blog and moving away from that community. 

Master List | Imagine Roman Reigns

In the midst of reblogging our yummy samoan superman, a lot of imagines get pushed so far back you may not be able to find the one you’re looking for for quite some time. In comes the Master List. Every link, god willing, will take you to the specific imagine in mind or to a page with the proper tag. As the blog grows, so will the list of course. And y’all don’t even have to worry about liking or reblogging the post because it is always available at the top of the blog. If you are on mobile and can’t access the list, I’m going to try and list it in the info box below our disclaimer in due time. Hopefully this makes things a little easier for all of us. Happy reading, loves. XO


Strictly Original Imagines –

Stir Crazy: Part 1 | Part 2 

Mr. Anoa’i & Ms. Frank Chronicles: The Perfect Diagnosis | House Call | White Sheets | Unexpected Appointment | Electro-shock Therapy | Empathetic Intercourse | Hypothesis | Unusual Relapse | Turbulence  

Stitched and Stumbled

How I Spent My Anniversary 

Bring Home the Gold

Airport

Road Trip

His Secret Model

Surprise

Crash Date

Stroking the Ego

From Time… To Time

Purple Hazed Philosophy

Easy

Tricks or Treats

Family First

Teach Me

I Don’t Belong To You

Curiosity

Tuesday’s Gift

Amour Des Marais (Swamp Love) 

Priority 

Unfinished Business


Requested Imagines –

Valentine’s Sweepstakes

Old Times

Tag Team

Clumsy

Work Out… For Me 

The Italian Job | Leati’s Goodbye  

Joelle of the Empire

It Can Always Wait

Emergency

 One of Those Days

Awkward 

The Proposal 

Special Delivery

Risky

Late

Second Time Around

The Honeymooners

Make It Right

Dangerous Woman 

Masquerade Escapades 

F.T.Willz never dies?

Do you remember the theory about FTWillz and his poetry? Around the net, especially in the fandom, this is not news and it seems like this person won’t cease to amaze us.

Since I started to investigate on FTWillz, his poetry has absolutely become my favorite topic.

I spent days around a lot of tumblr blogs and google researches, finding out things I would have never expected to find.

It may be because of the deep meaning behind his poems, or the simple and desperate need of help FTWillz communicates with his dark writing, that the issue concerns me so much.

First of all he had a myspace, then livejournal and finally twitter. What if this is not all?

Recently, a girl informed me about a really important blog she found on tumblr: f-t-willz-must-die.

To be honest, at first sight I thought “this is certainly a blog like another, maybe an appreciation one… I don’t think he would like to be found out so easily with the final ’‘must die” like Frank’s’’ but I had to think about it again as soon as I opened the link.

I made a quick journey in that blog just to see what I could have find and the first thing you can see is that the blog owner hasn’t written anything since September 2013, four months after he made the first post on his blog.

If you search the blog on whasoever search engine, the website does not appear, so it seems like this blog has been hidden by the owner.

This option can be activated once you register on tumblr, in the settings page, where you can allow the search engines to index your blog. So we can say that FTWillz thought that hiding his blog from other ones would have helped him with not being found out by people.

Or maybe he was just desperately trying to be discovered?

We passed hours on this blog, even though it has just 4 pages, and we noticed a lot of interesting stuff about his poetry.

First of all, the way FTWillz writes is stunningly similar to Frank’s, both the lack of capital letters and the frequent use of dashes on their poems.

There are about 34-35 poems written in there and FTWillz “sends” us a message that we can classify as “full of hate” and “desperate”.

Nothing new, right? All things that connect us to Frank’s poetry, whose poems are really similar to the new FTWillz ones.

Other important things can be the notes and the tags: actually, FTWillz didn’t add tags on his posts and he has just two notes, one of which is the girl’s who told me about this blog.

Seems like Frank didn’t want to be found out.

I immediately thought that the blog was a kind of “refugee” where he wanted to write safely without having problems.

The obvious question is: why didn’t he make a private blog?

You can tell this blog is absolutely interesting from every corner of it.

One of the things M noticed was the last poem he wrote, the 20th September’s one that appears on the top of the first page, where FTWillz mentions a certain Sylvia Plath.

I’m pretty sure someone of you recognized the name.

The same poetess was quoted by Frank in an interview years ago during The Black Parade, as a reference to the album, inspired by the figurative death in Plath’s poems.

Can it be just a coincidence?

Talking again about FTWillz, in the poem written the 25th August, I found an extremely important thing that, from the first sight, I’ve noticed.

Do you remember “From My Head to My Middle Finger, I Really Think I Like You”? The poem both Frank and the (not so) mysterious FTWillz have published?

Well, the same sentence was written by FTWillz must die too the 25th August.

Still a coincidence?

By the way, the 23rd May FTWillz published a poem named “houston we have a…” and the “you’re so cool cool cool” line shocked me a bit.

You have surely recognized this line, didn’t you?

The sentence is the same as Kill All Your Friends and this makes me think that this is not just a coincidence. We can notice that FTWillz is pissed off with a person who changed and who believes he is important so he calls him “arrogantly successful”.

Even if you’re not obsessed with this band you can surely tell that Gerard never wanted to be cool (yeah, we all know the NME interview), so we can assume that the fact that Gerard changed pushed FTWillz to write those angry lines.

There’s another thing that I noticed really easily. I am referring to the 15th July poem where FTWillz writes “club 27 has reached capacity”, which is also the title Frank gave to one of his poems in his website.

Still a coincidence? Let’s think a little about this.

If someone still remembers it, back to 2004, a message from Frank appeared to search for Gerard who disappeared after leaving a message telling him he was going to be the new Jim Morrison, who died when he was only 27 (the same age Gerard had in 2004) of overdose.

Now, let’s be honest, in that recording Frank seems to be crying instead of just being sick, so we can tell he cares a lot about his best friend and the fact that Gerard was basically drunk and on drugs all the time seems to confirm my theory. Seriously, Frank was really worried for him.

If you have never heard it, here’s a youtube video where you can find the recording http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iwNtBb7CqQ

Do you still think this is just a mere coincidence? This poem is about someone who wanted to commit suicide at the age of 27, come on! It’s obvious now.

Moving on, FTWillz named a poem with a line a letlive’s song, Banshee: “My stomach hates the, hates the bitter taste of the truth” and, in another poem, he uses another line from another letlive’s song, Younger. And I found this thing pretty suspicious.

This could say barely nothing but I made a little research about this group just to see what type of connection they have together and I found something interesting.

Apparently, it seems like the two bands have in common the same label and this explains why FTWillz knows some of their songs.

As I said many times before, you can say this can be just a coincidence and the blog owner could be someone who enjoys making fun of other people and who can perfectly imitate the way Frank writes. And I understand this because I know the fanbase is full of teenagers that do not have anything to do all day, but I’m pretty sure there are a lot of things left and I’m definitely convinced that FTWillz must die is Frank.

Don’t believe me? Take a look here.

Do you think this is something a teenage boy or a teenage girl could write?

I don’t think a fifteen-years-old teenager can write those type of things, especially because I am one. Like the majority of my peers, I’m absolutely disinterested in politics and I’ll never be able to write things like these, not even in a million years. Trust me.

And the main reason I think FTWillz is Frank is the fact that if you open Frank’s page on his university’s website you can tell politics is a topic he is really interested in. I am convinced that he is such an intelligent and cultured man.

Do you think a grown up fan would waste his time making fun of a crowd of teenagers? I strongly doubt it.

In conclusion, I am definitely sure that FTWillz must die is Frank and that he WANTS us to find out these “secrets”. And I am convinced, after I read his poetry, that he was really close to reveal something, something we already know but something they still keep hiding.

Sorry for my not-so-good English and I wanted to thank my “colleague” M for helping me and for tolarating my silliness during this discovery!

We are going to analyze his poems soon so, stay tuned!

I don’t know what I can say anymore, it’s all up to you. There’s definitely more than just “stage gay” between those two.

Therapy

.Request: 

  • One with frank where the reader is really insecure and frank kisses the reader every where explaining why their so beautiful with a lot of fluff/smut? Thank you ouo
  • Frank smut but where he is sappy and loves you so much but is also a little Dom because he needs/loves you so much? Love the blog!
  • Can I request a Frank smut where he’s all romantic and makes a lot of dirty talk, please? <3

The car ride was silent. Not the comfortable, peaceful silence that would fall between Frank and I after a long day. It was the awkward, not knowing what to say, shuffling in your seat and clearing your throat to make some noise type of silence. I kept my eyes transfixed out the window, watching the rain drops roll down the glass and blur the scenery around us. I could see Frank turn towards me out of the corner of my eye, opening his mouth before quickly shutting it and returning his attention back to the road.

I didn’t blame him, I had no clue what to say either.

Our first session of marriage counseling wasn’t as big of a success as we hoped for. It hurts enough to admit to yourself that you and your husband need to sit down with a therapist to stay together, and now returning home with no tension cleared was a slap in the face. It was most likely my fault. I didn’t want to see a counselor, I didn’t want to add another person into our problems, and maybe my denial that we needed help made me even more uncooperative to the counselor’s questions.

The main topic was our lack of intimacy, a big red flag in the buzzing world of marriage. Most people assume if your partner doesn’t want to sleep with you, there most be a problem. But there wasn’t a problem for me, or nothing that an hour session with a stranger and a tape recorder could cure. I kept my arms folded and muttered the same phrase I’ve told Frank countless times recently every time the lady asked me why we haven’t been sexually active.

“I was tired.”

We entered the house quietly, shrugging off our damp coats and hanging them near the door. I went to the kitchen, searching through the fridge for something quick to heat up for dinner. A pair of arms circled around my waist, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“Frank?” I murmured in surprise, feeling his head rest on my shoulder. He didn’t respond, nuzzling his head towards my neck. I sighed quietly, running my fingers through his short tuffs of hair.This was the closest thing to intimate we’ve been in weeks.  

“Please talk to me,” he said suddenly, voice soft yet firm. I swallowed dryly, feeling unwanted emotions burn my throat and pool in my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about it, I just wanted to pretend none of this was happening and we were still as giddy and in love like we were when we first met. I eased out of his touch, grabbing left overs from last night and heading towards the microwave. “Y/N,” Frank huffed, leaning against the counter with his head low. “I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to help if you won’t talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I muttered. “We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not,” he said firmly. He rubbed his temples in frustration, screwing his eyes shut. “What happened to us?“

“Can we talk about this in the morn-”

“No, don’t start with that again. We’re talking about this right now Y/N.”

I groaned and turned around to face him. “Fine Frank, what’s the problem.”

“I should be asking you that. You’ve been shutting me out for weeks now and I have no fucking clue why. Did I do something? Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

“No, God no.” I let out a shaky breath, running my fingers through my hair. “Frank, this is stupid. I love you.”

“Really? ‘Cause it feels like you hate me,” he scorned, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“I don’t hate you, you dumb ass. I hate myself.”

My hand clasped over my mouth as Frank’s dropped, looking at me incredulously. “What?”

My head shot down, avoiding his sympathetic gaze. “I love you Frank, I love you so much, but I can barely look at myself in the mirror, let alone get naked in front of you. If I can’t myself attractive, how the hell are you going to?”

“Is that what’s wrong? You think I’m not attracted to you?” He walked towards me, lacing our fingers together. “Hey, look at me. I love you Y/N, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and you always will be. Don’t you ever think otherwise, okay?”

I smiled brightly, leaning forward to brush our lips together. I felt his lips curl up in his signature goofy smile as he kissed back eagerly. His hands rested on my hips, running up and down my sides. He broke the kiss, resting our foreheads together. “Wanna take this party upstairs?”

“One kiss and you’re already trying to get back in my pants,” I giggled, giving his shoulder a light shove. 

“I’m serious though,” he chuckled, tightening his grip on my waist. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

I simply nodded, letting him carry me with both arms and lead me to the bedroom. He sets me down on the bed, attaching our lips together as his fingers tease the hem of my shirt. As soon as the shirt is over my head and flung towards the corner of my room, his nimble fingers work on the hooks of my bra.

He tosses the bra aside, he pulls away, gazing at me with such intensity and incomprehensible feelings in his eyes that I shy away from him, bringing my hands up to cover yourself.

“No,” he growls, catching my wrists in his hands. Keeping my arms at my sides, his gaze feeds hungrily on my body, so openly gawking that my face flushes a deep red. He releases my arms, hands coming up to gently cradle my face. “Let me show you,” he whispers. “Let me prove to you that you’re more than beautiful, you’re more than pretty. Let me show you what you do to me. Let me make you feel how you’ve made me feel everyday since we fell in love.” Frank murmurs, tracing the outline of my lip with the pad of his thumb. 

I gaze wondrously into his eyes, pondering why he would even want to touch me, let alone crave it, but his tone is pleading, and his eyes are big and round. Shocked, I slowly nod my head, and Frank lets loose the biggest smile I’ve seen him wear in weeks. Almost immediately, his shirt is on the ground, swiftly joined by his pants, and then i’m in his arms, being smothered with kisses.

Frank leans against the headboard, placing me in his lap. I gasp as I sit down, coming into contact with the bulge in his boxers, one already hardened to a most admirable size. His lips find my neck, planting few warm kisses before trailing further and further down. I involuntarily moan when his lips abruptly meet my nipple, gasping again as his tongue lashes out and around, out and around. When he feels he’s done his job and done it well, he moves to my other breast, repeating the process. As he occupies himself, I find myself gently grinding down on him, panties now soaking. His hand travels down my stomach, coming to a rest with his fingers just barely above the waistband. I grind into him harder and he moans into my neck, hand taking the plunge into my underpants.

His fingers skim over my clit, warm and inviting. I push myself down on his hand, and he begins to rub my clit, gently at first and gradually increasing in pressure and speed until he is furiously working away, breathing hard into my neck. I grind myself down on his hand, wanting more, needing more, and he inserts a finger. I gasp his name into his shoulder, and he adds another finger, and other finger. He quickly picks up speed, fingers curling, reaching that one spot he knows better than anyone else.

“Frankie,” I cry, riding his fingers. I pull myself up and down, nearing my high. I bring your teeth down on his shoulder, just barely grazing, but enough for him to know what’s coming next.

He pulls his fingers out immediately, earning him a whimper, and flips me over so he’s on top. He leaves a trail of kisses down to my stomach, then decides to take his time. “So gorgeous,” he mumbles against my skin. My fingers curl into his short black hair, tightening when ever his lips leave a wet kiss along my chest. "Did I ever tell you how much I love your stomach?” He rasps, tracing patterns under my navel with his tongue. “So soft.” I blush deeply as he peppers me with kisses. My breathing is labored as he slips a finger under my panties, teasing and then finally pleasing. I hear my underwear hit the floor, the noise accompanied by fierce, burning pleasure. His tongue, warm and rough, working the magic he promised me. My back arches and one hand laces through his short hair, keeping him as close as possible, while the other tangles in the bed sheets. One of his large, calloused hands massages my thigh, the other rests on my stomach, fingers splayed. My breath comes in short, quick pants, caused by the man whose head is buried between my legs.

“Babe,” I breathe out, a familiar tickle building in your stomach. “I’m going to….I’m about to….ooh” I feel myself tighten around him, jaw dropping open as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me, leaving me empty when it’s done.

A smirking Frank pulls back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and crawls over me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see that face from that angle,” he declares, nibbling on my earlobe.

He lowers himself down onto me, rutting his hard on against my inner thigh.

“Frank,” I whimper as he rubs himself against my entrance, teasing.

“Yes, love?” He answers, his voice think with lust and amusement.

“I..I need you,” I gulp, “now.”

He grins from ear to ear, pulling my body close to his and thrusting in smoothly. I cry out, gripping onto his shoulder blades for support. Frank kisses the side of my neck, thrusting slowly and deeply. He holds onto a slow pace, accompanying each thrust with a tender kiss on the lips. 

“Faster,” I breathe, struggling to get the word out.

Unaccustomed to my demands, brings his head up in shock. “What?”

“Frankie, go faster,” I repeat. “Please.”

For the millionth time that night, he grins, burying his head in my shoulder and granting my wish. He slams in and out quickly, groaning and grunting as his orgasm approaches. His hand snakes between our bodies, and he rubs circles on my clit, kicking up my pleasure. Sucking fiercely on my neck, he throws my leg over his shoulder, pushing into me deeper than before. My vision begins to blur and my mouth starts to form an O, digging my nails deeper into his shoulders. My head falls back when my orgasm comes, screaming his name over and over again. Not soon after, he stiffens himself, gasping my name into the side of my neck. We both collapse, completely spent and utterly satisfied. His arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest.

“Now, what did we learn today?” He teases.

“Talk about our feelings instead of hiding them,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at him. He giggles loudly, pecking my lips.

“I guess I can cancel our next session now.”