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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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Moaning “good girl” in your ear as we cum together
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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“Do you ever have those random nights where your brain won’t shut off, even though your body feels like five hundred pounds of exhausted.”
— Becky Albertalli
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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Chaos is the gateway emotion to the emotions you don't want.
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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#babygirlcore
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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Big Sky Country
Series Master List
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In Big Sky Country we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.
No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)
Main Master List
Big Sky Country
Warnings for Big Sky Country
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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PEDRO PASCAL leaving the gym in Los Angeles | May 21, 2024
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jokersfangirl84 · 12 hours
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Drive In
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frankie morales x f!reader
rating: explicit
a/n: another installment of the Box Set Universe ❤️Happy Feral Frankie Friday!
——-
Let’s go to the drive in, he said.
It’ll be romantic, he said.
You thought it would be, envisioning cuddling close in the warm cabin of his truck or maybe laid out in the bed of it with a nest of blankets but this — this was so much more.
You’re struggling now to hang on to a thread of coherent thought, something that’s needed given where you are right now, but he’s doing his best to pull it from your grasp with every swipe of his tongue.
The lot was half full tonight — two terrible movies before the main show at midnight — and when he neatly slid into a spot in the back and parked, you had protested about how far away from the screen you were.
Lying together on piles of mismatched but soft blankets spread over the bed of his truck, teasing had turned into wrestling had turned into him pressing your wrists into the unforgiving metal above your head and when your eyes slipped into their half hooded gaze that he loves so much, that had turned into feverish groping over clothes and hot, open mouthed kisses.
His hand a neat fit between your thighs, he had cupped you through the thin fabric of your panties with a rough, needy grip of his fingers, had played with your pussy until he felt the cotton dampen and slide under his hold and eventually moved down to drag his mouth over the soaked fabric until you whined with an aching want.
You’re protesting just like before but now it’s soft, broken ones of pleasure, pleads of oh god I can’t frankie, and just like before he’s soothing away your worries with calm reassurance, this time pressed into the soft, delicate skin of your thighs.
The movie plays on, the light of it illuminating the other cars in the large grassy field but it doesn’t reach the bed of his truck. That is covered in pools of shadows, a secret sanctuary tucked away at the edge of the woods, the nest of blankets bunching now around you and you grasp at one in an effort to anchor yourself; your hips arching into the wet heat of his mouth.
It has to be hot under the blankets where he is, your limbs trembling in his firm hold, his forearm a band across your hips to keep you in place as you try to grind against his eager tongue.
You wish you could see him but you aren’t even sure you would be able to with the tears that blur your vision as he swirls around your throbbing clit and you faintly focus on the darkened tips of the tree tops, the twinkling stars and his mouth. Christ, his mouth.
He digs his fingers into your thigh to hold you open and you can feel sweat slip under his palm, can feel how tacky your skin is with it when he breathes against you before going back to his task and you slide your hand under the blanket to thread your fingers through his thick curls, the root of them damp.
You picture them sticking to the edges of his sweet face, curling over his forehead and collecting at the temples and you tip your face to the side to try to muffle the moan you let slip out at the image; at the intense, rapid glide of his tongue.
Come on, baby, come on, another one he coaxes, the words felt more than heard and when he slips three fingers inside with a slick, filling stretch, you instantly bear down on them, pulling them deeper.
Slow, curling thrusts in and out, his lips trailing over the well of your hip, his breath a humid fan through the soaked curls covering your cunt and then he’s back where you need him most; wide, savoring licks into your folds with a hum of contentment.
Your hips roll in time with his fingers, the tandem movements of his mouth and wrist increasing in pace and your thighs tense around the rounds of his shoulders, the cotton of his T-shirt felt against the inside of your knees.
I’m — , you beg, trying so hard not to be loud as you feel the waves roll through your center outwards and when he hears your hand drop heavily to the blankets to hang onto something, he quickly snatches it in his hold, bringing it to rest on the crown of his head.
You come, your fingers pushing desperately into his curls, tugging on them as you freely ride his face through it all and this is what he wanted: for you to lose yourself completely to him, the sharp sensation on his scalp a distant feeling as you fill his mouth with your taste.
Better than the popcorn he bought you at the stands, better than the Milk Duds he has in the cup holder, better than any movie — this is his favorite; to make you feel this good and to help you through it and to do it again and again, forever.
Limp and sated, you relax your legs and smile when you see his flushed face appear from underneath the blankets, the apples of his cheeks pink with heat, his mustache and beard dark with dampness.
“You still wanna watch the movie?”, he asks, the low tone of it vibrating against your skin. He nudges the hem of your shirt higher with his nose, pressing exploring kisses along the skin that’s slowly revealed.
“Would you let me?”, you tease, brushing his hair back and away and he looks up at you with a playful smile, running his tongue along his lush lower lip before slowly shaking his head no.
“I didn’t think so.” You reach down for him, guiding him to settle heavy and solid over your body, the cushioned weight of him molding with you just right and when he fits his face into the crook of your neck, you can feel how hard he is against the curve of your ass.
He grinds himself against you, your soaked curls sliding over the rough denim and his breath hitches sweetly at your throat before he braces his hands on the bed of the truck to do it again, again, harder this time.
You can hear the third movie starting but the sound of it is drowned out by the clinking of his belt as he opens it, the tug of his zipper being pulled down, his murmurs of let me put it in, baby, it’ll feel so good filling your ears.
And in the end, it’s just as romantic as he said it would be.
[fin.] ❤️
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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if a character means enough to me i will truly never stop thinking about them. i just retire them into a little back room in my brain and periodically bring them out to stare at them under a little light
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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what a beautiful day to not be in high school
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.
- Mark Twain
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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jokersfangirl84 · 21 hours
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“No one will understand you. It is not, ultimately, that important. What is important is that you understand you.”
— Matt Haig, The Humans
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