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૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHai there ! mcr blog , gachiakuta blog , and random thoughts
you can call me pela , this blog includes NSFW content and thoughts so please be cautious ! minors do not interact
I do requests and they are always open , confess every thought you have in your mind.
I don’t bite and I really love interacting with people ♡ ︎!
If You Were Here
⤷ You’re not here. But somehow, you’re everywhere.
follo tunito x f!reader , angst , longing , separation , bittersweet , emotional hurt , follo misses reader too much , might be ooc :(
wc. 1,146
Author’s Note : this is inspired by here without you by 3 doors down while writing this huhu so if you could listen to it while reading it its very appreciated!!! I hope you enjoy the emotional damage (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)
The room was too quiet.
He used to think silence was peaceful, something to appreciate after a long day of noise, shouting, metal scraping against concrete, footsteps pounding against the floor…. Or whatever the teams were on.
Now, silence only gave his thoughts room to get louder and he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting against his knees, staring at the floor. His fingers curled around nothing.
That was the worst part.
He could still remember the shape of your hand, the warmth of your palm, the way your fingers would naturally slip between his whenever you walked beside him, like they belonged there. But when he reached out now, nothing. His hand closed around empty air, he swallowed.
“…Stupid.”
He wasn’t even sure who he was talking to. Outside, the wind dragged itself through the narrow gaps in the walls. Some faint rustle, a soft whistle… And for a moment, he smelled you. Something warm, familiar, and like fabric warmed by sunlight.
Like the faint scent that lingered on your clothes after you’d been beside him all day. Follo’s head snapped toward the doorway.
His heart jumped.
“—Hey.”
Nothing, the doorway was empty. Of course it was, his shoulders dropped and he laughed once under his breath, but there wasn’t anything funny about it.
“Seriously?”
He rubbed his face.
“...Get a grip.”
But his chest hurt, it had been hurting for days or maybe weeks. He’d stopped counting, because counting meant admitting how long you’d been gone and he couldn’t do that, not tonight… Not when every little thing seemed determined to remind him of you, your favorite blanket was folded at the end of the bed, and there was even a tiny scratch on the wooden table from when you’d accidentally dragged something across it.
He’d noticed it before, he’d laughed about it. Now he couldn’t look at it without remembering the sound of your voice.
“Follo, stop staring.”
“I’m not staring.”
“You are.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re staring while thinking.”
He could almost hear you, almost.
Follo shut his eyes, “Come back.” The words escaped before he could stop them, his throat tightened. He looked down and his hands were shaking.
“Just…”
He swallowed hard.
“Just come back.”
There was no answer, there never was.
He remembered the last time he’d seen you, and was the cruelest thing. Memory didn’t fade when he wanted it to. It stayed painfully clear. You’d been standing in front of him, trying to smile. Trying to convince him you weren’t scared. Follo had known you were, he’d been scared too. But he’d smiled anyway, reached up and fixed a strand of your hair.
You’d complained that he was messing it up, he’d laughed. Then you’d looked at him—really looked at him and something in your expression had made his stomach twist, “Don’t look at me like that,” he’d murmured.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re saying goodbye.”
You’d gone quiet, that silence had answered him.
He remembered pulling you closer, your forehead against his. Your breath warm against his skin and the faint tremble in your hands.
He remembered thinking,
“I need to memorize this, the warmth of you— the smell of your hair… that tiny hitch in your breathing or the way your fingers held into the back of his shirt.“
As if letting go would make the moment disappear….maybe it did. Because then you were gone and Follo had been left with nothing but the memory.
He lays back against the bed, eyes burned, and staring at the ceiling.
“I wonder if you miss me.”
His voice was barely audible and hated himself for asking. Because he knew the answer wouldn’t change anything, even if you did… even if you were somewhere thinking about him too.
He still couldn’t reach you or still couldn’t hear your voice, still couldn’t feel your hand in his and that was the part nobody warned him about.
Love wasn’t always dramatic, sometimes it was just waking up and instinctively reaching toward the other side of the bed. Sometimes it was turning around because you thought you heard someone laugh, sometimes it was seeing something stupid and thinking,
“She’d like that.”
And then remembering she wasn’t there, he turned onto his side.
His hand rested against the empty space beside him, he stared at it. For a moment, he imagined your fingers slipping into his. Imagined the warmth, the weight, and the little squeeze you’d give him when you wanted his attention.
His breathing hitched, he squeezed the mattress instead…nothing.
“Gosh…”
His voice cracked, immediately covered his mouth. He didn’t want to cry, not because crying was weak. But because once he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop and he was tired, so tired… He pulled the blanket closer and it still smelled faintly like you.
That was enough to break him, his eyes squeezed shut.
“I love you.” The words came out quietly, like a confession meant for someone who wasn’t there to hear it.
“I still love you.” His chest rose shakily.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.” Silence, he laughed bitterly.
“You’re supposed to answer me, you know.”
Nothing, his eyes opened and the room remained empty and he stared at the doorway again. For one terrible second, he let himself imagine you standing there. Smiling, calling his name, walking toward him, he could almost feel your arms around his neck.
Almost— then the image disappeared, and Follo was alone again. His fingers curled into the blanket.
“…If you were here.” He stopped, voice was trembling.
“If you were here, I’d tell you everything.”
He looked toward the window, the night outside was dark, cold, and endless…
“I’d tell you how much I missed you.”
A pause, “I’d tell you that every stupid little thing reminds me of you.”
Another breath…
“I’d tell you that sometimes I still turn around because I swear I heard you.”
His eyes filled again.
“And…”
He whispered the last part.
“I’d ask you not to leave me again.”
The room stayed silent, his lowered his head. He pressed his face into the pillow, breathing in the last trace of your scent. For a moment, he let himself pretend you were beside him, pretend your fingers were tangled with his, and pretend your heartbeat was only inches away or tomorrow he’d wake up and you’d still be there…
Pretend that when he opened his eyes, you’d be smiling at him but pretending was cruel.
Because morning always came and you never did. So Follo stayed there in the darkness, holding onto a memory that was slowly becoming the only place he could still find you and somewhere between exhaustion and sleep, he whispered one last thing into the empty room.
“If there’s an if…”
His eyes closed.
“…I hope it’s one where you come back.”
﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒
reblogs, likes, and requests are well appreciated ( ¯ ³¯)♡
⤷ Follo drops to his knees like he’s been waiting for it. Head heavy in your lap, mouth already seeking your chest. He just wants to be good. Wants you to call him that while you stroke him slow, edge him until he’s shaking, and keep going even after he comes. Especially after... (´꒳`)ㅤㅤ
Follo Tunito x F!Reader , praise kink , oral fixation , breast sucking , handjob , edging , overstimulation , desperation , dom reader , smut
wc. 746
Author’s Note: A huge thought that he would have a praise kink and stuffs heh… posting most of the drafts I have in mind because I couldnt post them cuz of college classes :/ enjoy the mess !! Feed back and requests are always welcome 𑣲ㅤ
You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, legs slightly spread, when Follo drops to his knees between them like he’s been waiting for permission. His head settles heavy and warm in your lap, cheek pressed against your inner thigh, breath already hot against your skin. One of his hands slides up under your shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way so he can bury his face against your chest.
“Please…” he murmurs, voice low and rough, already sounding wrecked. “Let me… can I…?”
You don’t make him wait, sighing as you pull your top the rest of the way off and guide his mouth to your breast. The second his lips close around your nipple he makes a soft, needy sound and starts sucking slow and soft pulls that make your toes curl. His tongue flicks and swirls while he nurses at you like he can’t get enough, eyes half-lidded and glassy when he glances up.
Your hand drifts down, finds him already hard and straining in his pants. You free him, wrap your fingers around his length, and giving him a slow stroke. Follo’s hips jerk and he moans around your nipple, the vibration shooting straight through you.
A sharp gasp tears from Follo's throat as your slick hand wraps around him, his hips jerk involuntarily, a broken moan spilling against your skin as he loses rhythm for a moment.
"A-ah—" he gasps, pulling back just enough to breathe, forehead pressing against your stomach. “That's—fuck—"
His hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise, knuckles white. He's trembling, utterly undone, caught between the urge to beg and the need to remember how to form words at all. “Fuck—good boy,” you murmur, and he shudders hard. You keep the praise coming while you work him. “That’s it… so good for me, sucking so nicely while I stroke you. Look how hard you are just from this.” He whimpers, sucking harder, one hand gripping your thigh like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.
You edge him deliberately…tight strokes that bring him right to the edge, then a light squeeze at the base that makes him whine and thrust helplessly into your fist. Every time he gets close you ease off and coo at him.
“Not yet, be good. Stay right here and keep sucking my tits while I play with you.” Follo nods frantically against your chest, mouth never leaving your breast. Spit shines on your skin. His cock throbs in your hand, leaking steadily onto your fingers. You edge him again and again. His thighs start to shake again...Soft, broken noises spill out of him every time you call him good.
When you finally decide he’s waited long enough, you speed up tight, relentless strokes, thumb swirling over the head on every upstroke. “Come for me, you’ve been so good. Come while you’re still sucking me.”
He does very hard… His whole body seizes, mouth still locked around your nipple as he spills over your fist in thick pulses, moaning like it hurts in the best way. You don’t stop, you keep stroking him through it, then past it, watching his face twist as the sensitivity hits.
“Still good,” you tell him softly, voice sweet while your hand keeps moving over his overstimulated cock. “Taking it so well, just a little more.” Follo’s hips twitch and try to pull away, but he doesn’t actually move.
He stays right there with his head in your lap, mouth still working weakly at your breast even as he starts to tremble and gasp. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes from the overstimulation. You slow just enough to keep him on that overloaded feeling without letting him fully recover, praising him the entire time.
“Such a good boy, letting me use you like this. Sucking my tits while I keep playing with your sensitive cock, you’re perfect like this Follo.”
He sobs your name against your skin, still hard, still leaking, still obediently nursing at you while you edge him into overstimulation all over again. His hands clutch at your thighs and the sheets, but he never once asks you to stop only eager for more praise every time you give it.
You keep him there for as long as you want, head in your lap, mouth on your tits, cock twitching and dripping in your fist, until he’s a wrecked, trembling mess who can only whisper “please… good… I’m good…” between wet, desperate sucks. ♡
﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒
reblogs, likes, and requests are well appreciated ( ¯ ³¯)♡
NSFW & MDNI ᯓ.ᐟ
butch! frank is so fucking filthy once she gets you alone. she’ll back you into a wall with that little smirk and just stare at you for a second like she’s deciding how she’s gonna ruin you tonight, then her hands are under your shirt, rough palms dragging up your sides, and she’s already muttering “fuck, look at you” against your mouth .ᐣ.ᐟ ♡
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
so sick thinking about butch frank… 🫀
