Let’s have some positive affirmations~

Anon I so thoroughly agree with this sentiment.

In general I’m such a hand person, and physical affection is so far up my alley.

But thinking about Frank’s fingers will quite literally be one of the main reasons for my admittance into hell. The thought of him working me up torturously slow, fucking wrecking me before we even really get started? His fingers would feel so thick and perfect, he could for sure just get me off over and over with them alone.

Imagine Frank just bending you over the bed and getting his mouth on you only to replace it with his fingers, stretching you out and filling you up. Getting you so far gone just on his fingers that the only thing you can manage is to whimper and gasp, shaking like a leaf after each orgasm. The absolute filth that’d be pouring out of his mouth. Telling you how fucking hot it is to watch his fingers disappearing into you, how good you are at fucking yourself on his fingers, what a desperate whore for him you are that you’ll come just from them working inside you.

I fucking love his goddamn hands.

Very much same Anon.

Like not even grand gesture romantic anniversary sex, but that sex on a Thursday evening that starts after the dishes are done and put away. The doors are locked for the night and you’re in bed reading when Frank comes into the bedroom and kisses your temple before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

That sex on a Thursday evening where Frank takes your book and places the receipt back in it to hold your place before setting it on your nightstand. Guiding you to lay down as he moves to press against you, kissing you slow and sweet. Building up to gasping moans and whispered names. Frank sinking into you or riding you or visa versa. Not going fast and hard because it’s been a fucking day. Instead, rocking against each other, Frank panting into your neck telling you exactly how much he loves you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, moaning low and pulling him closer, turning him to kiss you. Coming hard and feeling him come against or in you.

The soft whispered i love you’s and the tired bickering of who’s gonna get a washcloth.

Finally falling asleep curled into each other.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds really nice.

That’s a Face i’d love to be the cause of and a pov I’d like to be on the receiving end of.

Here’s a thought that runs through my mind much more often than is conventionally necessary.

Frank’s behavior and activity level during ProRev? What if he had a plug in. One of those remote control vibrating ones. Even with it off it’d feel so fucking good. Moving around on stage to his normal degree would have it right up against every fucking perfect spot, driving him crazy.

Then imagine being just off stage right and watching this all unfold? Clicking that remote, turning it on? Just fucking watching him drop at the sudden intense pleasure?

Maybe that’s why he was thrusting and grinding against his guitar. Maybe he was on the floor so often because his knees were just too fucking weak from you cycling through the intensity and pattern settings.

Fuck, it’d be such torture for him but i would bet anything that if it wasn’t his idea in the first place then he was more than open to the idea.

So, I know we shouldn’t glamorize smoking and all that happy healthy horseshit. But Christ if Frank doesn’t look hot doing it.

I think it’s the visual of it.

Something in his mouth. Lips wrapped around it. The suction of taking a drag. His fingers. Holding it in his mouth, the tip of his tongue against the filter every now and then to steady it.

I definitely don’t have an oral fixation. Not at all.

Anon. Can you please get out of my head because I feel very exposed right now. Either that or we’re both just kinky whores, because fucking Christ I am very much here for this. This is a thought I have very often.

In my head, there’s a TPE (total power exchange) dynamic to whatever degree the mood strikes. Frank being in charge of everything. Frank being in charge of when I get off, if I get off. Maybe that strikes your fancy too, I don’t know.

Whatever you did, it was wholly unacceptable. Seeing Frank’s features darken, knowing you fucked up. Taking your wrist, grip on the perfect side of too tight, and pulling you into the bedroom and pushing you down on your knees. Telling you to explain exactly what you did and why it was unacceptable. What punishment do you deserve? Whatever he deems fit. Telling you that he’s going to fuck your mouth since you like to run it so much, three, maybe five slaps.

Would it really be a punishment though? Your jaw aching from being forced wide, your scalp tender from his grip being so tight, cheeks red hot from the sting of his palm hitting just right.

Frank telling you how good you took your punishment, how good you were for him, making him tell you again why you needed to be punished. Then picking you up and settling you so gently on the bed that the contrast makes your head spin.

Fucking you slow, and so fucking deep that if the punishment didn’t put tears in your eyes this certainly did. The absolute look of adoration on his face as he pushes you even closer to coming than you were before. Neither of you lasting long, both coming so fucking hard you can barely breathe.

I think the aftercare would be the best fucking part. Laying in each others arms sweaty and fucked out until you both can form coherent thoughts. All cuddled up hearing how good you are, how much he loves you, eating little snacks and sharing a bottle of juice between you. Falling asleep with your head against his chest while he reads your favorite book.

Is it just me? No? Yes?

Oh Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m literally pausing my show for this bc holy fuck.

This is also something I’ve thought about all too often. I’m not even going to pretend that this isn’t hot as fuck. In any era of his I would one hundred fucking percent be down for this.

Getting on your knees for him, mouth wide and slack as he fucks into it, fingers wound tight in your hair? Rambling about how fucking easy you are for him, how much of a whore you are for him to just drop with a single word from him?

Frank pulling out and telling you to keep your mouth open because the only thing it’s good for is his own pleasure. God the look he’d have on his face at seeing your lips and chin shining with spit, tears in your eyes from your aching jaw and scalp from his sharp tugs. Feeling so absolutely fucking wrecked and filthy when he yanks your hair harder, pulling your head farther back and fucking spitting right in your mouth. The whimper and groan it tears from you when you feel his spit hit your tongue, some landing on your lips and cheek adding to the mess you’ve already made of your face.

Getting pulled up by his hand gripping your arm and hair, keeping that balance of control and pain with the absolute fucking adoration in his eyes. And then hearing, feeling, his moan when he licks into your mouth and kisses you so fucking thoroughly while walking you back toward the bed. He’d be so fucking worked up that the two of you don’t even make it up to the pillows, just fucking sinking into you, not even waiting for you to adjust to the delicious stretch. And it’d be fucking perfect. He wouldn’t be able to keep his goddamn mouth shut. Telling you how perfect you are for him, his perfect filthy whore, how you listen so well, how you’d better keep your fucking hands exactly where they are above your head.

And you’d better come before he does or he won’t let you come at all. Shaking and whimpering with every thrust because every single one is perfect and hitting every goddamn spot that makes you arch and moan. You’d be so close that you couldn’t stop the tears from falling because God you needed to come and his rhythm was already faltering. Coming when he bites down where your neck meets shoulder so hard you know there’ll be a perfect set of imprints of his teeth. Feeling him finally come inside of you, filling you up.

Fucking….anon please. You are literally trying to kill me.