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lotusbxtch · 22 days

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SoCal to NorCal - Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Masterlist Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x afab!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

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you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 1: Malibu

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Chapter Summary: You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, multiple creampies, explicit talk about cum (is a cum kink a thing? a tag I should use? Pls comment with your thoughts lol), spitting, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Santi being a menace is his own warning, Frankie the PEK, Frankie has a big dick and so does Santi, Reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n a/n: This is my very first series fic! I plan to have 3 chapters including this one. This one was meant to be a fun spicy little intro into the fic, but of course Santi being an absolute menace meant that this is absolute smutty filth and I'm sorry (not sorry). MASSIVE thank you to my sweet @for-a-longlongtime, who not only gave me the iconic Santiago line "guava goes better with pussy and mezcal," but beta read for me, bounced ideas around, and encouraged me when I wasn't sure that I could do this. Without Adi's help, this fic wouldn't be in existence! Dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you! (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I think that should be everything,” you murmur, closing the back of the forest green Jeep. You card a hand through your hair while going over a mental pack list for the third time this afternoon. Behind you, you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder and warm, strong hands envelop your waist.

“You ready to ride then, sweetness?” asks your boyfriend, Frankie. You smile and lean back into his embrace. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this trip,” you say, turning to plant a kiss to his aquiline nose, and then another to his plush lips. You both hop into the car; Frankie navigates towards the coast, while small butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach as you think about how the two of you got here.

You and Frankie Morales met six months ago at the Santa Monica airport. In a bid to encourage team bonding, upper management at your job booked a helicopter tour of the Los Angeles skyline. Frankie was the pilot for your chopper. He charmed your group with his charismatic yet humble demeanor and fun factoids about LA, especially you – your coworkers insisted that he kept staring at you when you weren’t looking. But Frankie ultimately beat you to the punch and asked you out for drinks the following night. You accepted, and the rest is history. The attraction was palpable from the get-go, and Frankie’s go-with-the-flow attitude complimented your fiery personality to a T. You adored how detail-oriented he was in all aspects of his life – memorizing your favorite teas, asking about how your projects were going, knowing exactly how to make you see stars in bed with his fingers, his cock, and especially his tongue. You couldn’t deny that Frankie was the perfect addition to your life, and you to his.

Through those first few weeks, you both divulged the more challenging bits of your lives. Frankie told you about his daughter, Isabella, and how his struggle with cocaine almost ruined his life. His relationship with his ex-wife was strained because of it, but they co-parented well - it was their main goal to ensure that Isabella was never put in the middle of their struggles, that she always felt supported and loved by both of her parents. Frankie had lost his pilot’s license after he failed a random drug test, and he took that as a sign to do the work to fix what was broken. He was now two years sober, and back to flying.

You, in turn, revealed to Frankie that he wasn’t the only man in your life. For the last decade, you’ve been with Joel Miller, your husband of seven years. Joel was the steady compass of your soul, the man whose roots intertwined deeply with those of your heart. You’d loved Joel almost your entire life, having grown up in the same neighborhood, although your crush on him was secretive during your childhood. He was your older brother’s best friend from college, a transplant from Texas whose parents moved to the Bay Area when he was a teenager. You ran into him after getting your master’s degree and moving back to the suburbs of San Francisco, and something sparked between the two of you. Since then, you’d been inseparable. When your work requested that you spend a year going between NorCal and SoCal to establish the new Los Angeles area office, you knew it would be a challenge for your relationship. As it turns out, it was only really a challenge for one reason — your sex drive was incredibly high, and sometimes you were apart from Joel for weeks at a time. Phone and video sex worked as well as it could, but it couldn’t beat the real thing. One night, after a particularly frustrating video sex session — all of your toys ran out of juice and you’d left your charger at home, among other things — Joel surprised you by suggesting that you didn’t need to stay monogamous.

“Are you sure, Joel?” you asked incredulously. “You’ve never been one to particularly like sharing.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied. “Lord knows the new office ended up bein’ more work than either of us thought it’d be. I know how much ‘gettin’ yours’ can be de-stressin’ for ya, and I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t seek it. It’s not like you’d be askin’ someone to move in with us. If it helps you, it makes me happy. And it sure would give my phone battery and hands some relief.” He chuckled as you scoffed in mock indignation. “You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t want to about whoever you get involved with. As long as you’re stayin’ safe and they’re treatin’ you as well as I do, then I’m okay with it.”

You sighed in consideration. “Let me think about it some more,” you said, picking at your rental’s bedspread. “It’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”

And then two weeks later, you met Frankie. Frankie was surprisingly relaxed when you told him about Joel, albeit surprised. He’d hesitated to continue things until you got on the phone with Joel and had him tell Frankie himself. After all, you’d checked with Joel within a few days of meeting Frankie just to make sure Joel was still okay with you being with another man.

You made sure to tell Joel when you’d be seeing Frankie, and Frankie didn’t contact you when you were back home with Joel. It wasn’t that either man wanted to pretend the other didn’t exist; rather, they each wanted to respect the other man’s time with you. Frankie wasn’t seeking marriage or starting a family; he wanted to continue using his time and energy on Isabella and getting his career back on track. And Joel was confident in and comfortable with your marriage in a way that didn’t allow for unseemly jealousy to crop up.

Gradually you told each of them bits about the other one, until one day Joel suggested that the two of them meet. You were game, but wanted to run it by Frankie first.

“He wants to meet me?” Frankie asked, wringing his hands a bit and looking mildly surprised. The two of you had just finished dinner at one of your favorite taco trucks in LA, and you licked the tips of your fingers as you finished your last al pastor taco, the warm, savory spices dancing on your tongue. Frankie took a sip from his Mexican Coke, his plush lips wrapping around the cool aqua glass of the bottle.

You nod your head in affirmation. “Just for a couple of days. We could make a vacation out of it. Joel suggested maybe we road trip up the coast.”

Frankie looked pensive. You don’t blame him, especially when the two men had made a concerted effort to keep their relationships with you separate. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Frankie asked, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You studied those dark chocolate irises, so similar to Joel’s.

“Yes, Francisco,” you confirmed, reaching out across the plastic picnic table to touch his hand. The sounds of the city wrapped around you as the two of you gazed at each other. “Joel has my heart, but so do you. And I want both parts of my heart, my favorites, to be with me at the same time for once.”

“Ok, mi amor, let’s go then,” Frankie said resolutely, bringing up your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

Your thoughts bring you back to the present, with Frankie’s one-hand grip on the steering wheel and the warm coastal sun beaming through the windshield. The windows are down, allowing the salty sea air to filter through the Jeep. He flips on his turn signal and begins driving through a particularly posh part of Malibu. Giant mansions dwarf the street, pristine lawns and modern, open-glass architecture rolling by as you continue on. You let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell does Santi do again to afford this?” you ask Frankie, eyes flicking to and from each house you pass by.

“Nothing,” Frankie chuckles. “When we got the money from that final mission that Santi and I went on, he invested the entirety of his share into the stock market. Well, almost everything.” He snorts at the champagne Range Rover in Santi’s driveway as the two of you pull up. Frankie, on the other hand, put the majority of his earnings into a trust fund for Isabella. The rest he used to set himself up comfortably but modestly. “Santi still does some consultant work for private security firms, but he just keeps reinvesting the money and using it to buy property and fund charity work,” Frankie explains.

“Can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty solid strategy,” you respond, taking in the splendor of Santi’s Malibu abode as Frankie parks his Jeep. The three-story home is minimalist and modern on the exterior, with a combination of cool beige stone and warm wood paneling. No other houses are on either side of the building, so the property was ulta-private, and even had its own beach. As the two of you unpack your bags from the car, you hear a wolf whistle shriek from somewhere around the corner. Jumping slightly, you turn and then smile as Santiago Garcia strolls barefoot out of the house, his pale linen slacks and caramel vintage ribbed polo shirt fluttering lightly against his muscular frame in the sea breeze.

“Hey pendejo, you finally made it!” Santi yells to Frankie, then turns to you with a “hi, hermosa,” and a kiss to your cheek. You wrap your arms around Santi’s torso, inhaling his sandalwood and cinnamon scent and giggling a hello. Frankie walks up, bags in hand, and tries to ruffle Santi’s perfectly coiffed curls. Santi dodges him and then goes in for a bear hug; Frankie smiles broadly as they rock side to side before clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, hermano, and thanks for letting us stay with you,” Frankie says warmly as he picks up your luggage and the three of you head towards the house.

“Not a problem, I’m in town for a consulting gig and figured it’d been awhile since we’d gotten together,” Santi responds ahead of you. You and Frankie follow him into the open-concept common area, admiring the sleek countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and plush yet subdued furniture. Light neutrals rule the color palette, with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows to allow natural light in. You run your hand over the back of a velvet lounger, indulging in the texture against your fingertips. Frankie goes to the bedroom to drop off your luggage, while Santi starts pulling things out in the kitchen for dinner prep. Continuing towards the back of the house, you push open the sliding glass doors, letting fresh air in while you admire the view from the balcony. Below, the azure waves caress the sand gently, and the sound of the ocean encourages you to release all the stress from the last workweek.

The boys get going on dinner as you slip on a silky emerald green dress - opting to go braless and barefoot - and dab on some rosy lip stain. The dress drapes lushly over your body, making it both comfortable and beautiful. After spritzing on some of your favorite perfume and putting on thin gold hoop earrings, you emerge from the guest bedroom you and Frankie are sharing for the weekend. Santi looks up and hums in approval.

“Damn, bebita, you look delicious,” he purrs as he finishes seasoning the steaks. “Do you always dress up for dinner with this chump or did you get pretty just for me? It’s okay, you can tell the truth.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and chuckle as you squeeze his bicep in passing. “Santi, don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, “I did it for myself. I don’t need to dress up for him to want to devour me.” You cross the kitchen to Frankie, who’s working on the caprese salad. Frankie huffs a laugh and puts down the kitchen knife, wiping his hands on a towel before to circling his hands around your waist. You lean into him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“That’s right,” he shoots back to Santi without looking over, “she doesn’t need extra dressing up; she’s stunning enough as she is.” He kisses your forehead softly as you gaze up at him lovingly.

“You’re right.” Santi lets his gaze scan over you approvingly. “She probably looks even better with nothing on.”

“Santiago!” you laugh. “You’re such an insufferable flirt.” You walk back over to the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, fixing him with a smoldering smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hmm?” Santi has always been relentlessly flirtatious with every attractive woman he meets, including you. Frankie’s never bothered by his antics, but you see his eyes flick towards the two of you, anticipating his response.

“Don’t tease me with promises you won’t keep, sweetheart,” Santi warns you, voice like rich caramel, sweet and smooth. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment before you break away, laughing softly and successfully ruffling his hair like Frankie wanted to earlier. That distracts Santi from the moment, as he huffs and runs his fingers through his curls to fix them.

A few hours later, the three of you are relaxing on the balcony by the fire pit after dinner, drinking mezcal margaritas and catching up on life. You sit with your legs across the cream patio sofa, your back against Frankie’s side like you often do with him. His arm is draped possessively across your torso while his thumb rubs absentmindedly back and forth across your shoulder. Santi goes inside to fetch the mezcal bottle from the kitchen, having switched to just the liquor, and you stand from the couch to observe the beach at the balcony’s railing. The darkness of night has settled over the landscape, lending deep navies and turquoise hues to the water, and everything feels more hushed.

As you inhale the coastal breeze, you feel Frankie’s warm body press into you from behind, and then his soft lips pressing a trail of kisses over your shoulder and neck. You hum happily, smelling his rosemary cedar soap on his skin, and press yourself further into him, lightly grinding against his hips. Frankie lets out a quiet groan and presses right back into you, letting you feel his hardening length against your ass. He begins to cup your breasts through the silken fabric of your dress, easily pebbling your nipples with no bra between his fingers and your tits. The heat of arousal starts to pool low in your belly as Frankie slides his hands down to your hips, grinding on you until he’s fully hard beneath his pants. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, and turn to the side to catch his lips, biting on his lower one and eliciting a louder groan from him.

“Sweetness, I need you so badly,” Frankie whispers into your ear. When you quietly moan in response, you can feel Frankie’s hands slip down the silk over your ass and hear him shuffle behind you. Spinning around and opening your eyes, you see him on his knees, hat next to him on the floor, starting to ruck up your dress.

“Frankie,” you hiss, grabbing his hands, desperate for more but concerned. “What if Santi sees?”

“What if I want to watch?” you hear suddenly over Frankie’s shoulder, and you gasp when you look behind him and realize Santi is leaning against the open balcony door, sipping mezcal straight from the bottle. A fire ripples from the base of your spine upwards, and your gaze drops to Frankie, whose eyes have gone nearly black with desire but remain on you. Your lips pop open slightly, and you freeze.

“Well, querida, answer the man,” Frankie rasps. “Either you let him watch or make him go back inside, but either way, I’m eating this sweet pussy.” His hands slowly drag up your legs until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, which rips a moan from your throat. As Frankie’s lips trail up and down your legs, you look back up at Santi, trying to read his expression. Gone is the molten chocolate of his irises; instead, you see glimmering adamant, dark and deep like the desire painted over every line of his face. But that heated gaze is still respectful – you know Santi would never cross your boundaries. If you truly didn’t want him to watch, he’d go inside the house, no questions asked.

It’s for that exact reason that your desire thrums through you like a bass line, and you bite your lip. “Frankie, I need your mouth on me right now. I think Santi needs to see how hard you make me come.”

Frankie responds with a groan, while Santi lets out a deep purring sound. He moves to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, and takes another swig of mezcal as he takes in the sight before him. Frankie immediately yanks your soft lace panties down your thighs, and growls at the gossamer-thin string of arousal that connects your weeping center with your underwear.

“Fuuuuck, querida, you’re fucking soaked,” Frankie moans, inhaling the intoxicating scent near your glossy slit. You step out of your panties, and he grabs them, tossing them to Santi. The man on the couch catches them with one hand, bringing them immediately to his nose and sniffing deeply.

“Goddamn,” Santi grits out, “she smells so fucking good, hermano.” He brings the gusset of the lace garment to his mouth, gingerly licking the slick off, groaning at the taste. You gasp at the sight, a wave of wetness trickling down your channel. “Tastes amazing too,” he adds, leaning back into the couch cushions and stuffing your panties into his pocket.

Frankie pushes your dress up to your waist and moves your left thigh to rest on his shoulder, spreading you open. He splays your lips open with his thumbs, staring at your pussy glistening in the fire’s light, on display for both him and Santi. He licks a steady strip from the bottom to the top, swirling around your clit at the end. You moan loudly, leaning back against the railing for support.

“Oh bebita, listen to those sweet sounds you’re making for Frankie,” Santi croons from the couch. “He must be making that pussy feel so good.”

“Yes, Santi,” you gasp, swallowing thickly as your eyes close in pleasure. “He’s so fucking good with his tongue.” You hear Santi rumble deep in his chest in response.

Frankie begins licking, sucking, and tapping on your clit exactly like he knows you like it, gripping your cheeks with both hands and massaging them. You writhe against his face, rocketing faster towards your impending orgasm. When you look up, you see Santi palming his cock through his pants, the bulge straining against the linen. Your cunt clenches at the image before you. Frankie can tell you’re close, so he slips two of his fingers into his mouth momentarily to slick them up and then plunges them into your warm cunt. You throw your head back, nearly screaming in ecstasy. Your grip tightens on the railing.

“I know you’re close, querida,” Frankie growls. “Let Santi see how pretty you look when you come.” Frankie then hooks his fingers just right inside of you and hits that soft spot that sends you into orbit, squealing. You feel everything tighten and then release, your orgasm rippling through your core and into your extremities. Frankie and Santi both moan at the sights and sounds of you reaching your peak, Frankie lapping up every drop of release from you.

“Good fucking girl, mamacita,” Santi says, getting up from the couch and stalking towards the both of you. Frankie gets off of his knees, easing your leg off his shoulder while wiping a hand across his drenched mouth. He knows exactly what Santi wants, so he moves back a couple of steps. You almost stumble, legs like jelly, and Santi catches your waist.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, and his assessing gaze breaks through the post-orgasm haze you’re in. “I really want to taste that perfect cunt, baby,” Santi whispers. “Can I do that for you?” You look at him, hesitating for a moment only because this is a line you’ve not crossed with Santi before. You nod clearly at him. Santi shakes his head. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Santi,” you breathe. “Please put your mouth on me.” Santi groans in anticipation and starts walking backwards, pulling you with him. When you look at him in slight confusion, a sheepish smile passes briefly over his lips.

“Bad knees,” he reminds you, and you laugh. “Kneeling on concrete would kill me.” He tilts his chin to Frankie. “Fish, open the door to the bedroom. I’m gonna lay her down. And bring the bottle.” Frankie obliges, sliding open the other glass door to the expansive bedroom and grabbing the mezcal bottle.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You sigh a yes, and Santi kisses you softly at first, then deeper. He tastes like cinnamon, tropical fruits, and smoky liquor. Moaning quietly, you start to lose yourself in his kiss as he moves the both of you backwards into the bedroom.

The California king size bed is draped in soft taupes and creams, the bedding a gauzy cotton that feels incredible on your skin as Santi gently lays you on it. He pulls your dress up your body, and you arch your back to help him remove it over your head. As your bare body is exposed to him, glowing in the low light, he sucks in a breath. Frankie places the mezcal bottle on the bedside table, then strips out of everything except his black boxer briefs, his length fully hard against his left thigh, and sits down on a sleek chaise lounger in the corner, watching you and Santi.

Santi strips off his shirt and then climbs onto the bed over you, slowly sliding his hands over your soft skin as he goes. You shift on the bed at his touch, back arching a bit and thighs rubbing together. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he reaches your head, forearms bracketing either side of your face. His body is so close to yours yet not touching.

Moaning, you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls and pull briefly. Santi bites your lower lip in response with a small growl. Sitting up, he grabs the mezcal off the bedside table.

“Open,” he commands, taking a swig from the glass bottle. You obey, and Santi leans over your open mouth and fucking spits the mezcal into it. You swallow, moaning at the taste, the alcohol and him. He kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth, and you whimper, your legs dropping open of their own accord.

Santi notices and chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he purrs. “Dirty girl.” He kisses and nips along your ear and neck, across your collarbone, and down your chest. Reaching your nipples, he swirls his tongue around and then gently nips each of them. You feel slick pooling at your entrance, starting to drip down your inner thighs. Santi traces his tongue down your belly and to the curls above your pussy, inhaling deeply. He pushes your thighs open further and groans at the sight.

“Goddamn, you’re drenched,” he grits out, shuffling down to put his face at your center. You glance over at Frankie in the corner, and notice he has his cock out, slowly stroking the length. You whimper at the sight and Frankie licks his lips. You feel a sudden pinch at your inner thigh and whip your head back to the man between your legs.

“Eyes on me, hermosa,” Santi orders. “I want you to look right at me when I eat this pretty pussy.” And with that, he dives in.

Santi is a messier lover than Frankie, who usually eats you out with absolute precision, priding himself with knowing exactly how to make you come as fast as possible, and repeat the process until you’re crying out from overstimulation. Santi, however, is licking at you like he wants to drown himself in your cunt. His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes across your slit, sucking on your lips and clit, biting at your thighs, shoving his tongue deep into your channel.

“So fucking sweet,” Santi pants out in a daze, separating his mouth from your sopping cunt for just a moment, and then goes back in for more. You mewl and grip the bed sheets as he continues to ravage you.

Your moans of pleasure stir something in Frankie, who gets up from his seat and walks over to the bed, his need to touch you nearly insatiable.

“Frankie,” you whine as you see him, your eyes hazy with lust, reaching out to him.

“I’m right here, querida,” he reassures you, then gets onto the bed, placing himself behind you. You scooch up the bed so that you’re sitting in between his spread legs, your back to his bare chest. You can feel his hard length against you, silken and hot, his precum smearing slick against your skin. Frankie kisses your forehead, then leans forward and grabs your legs behind the knees, pulling back and spreading you impossibly wider for Santi. The man between your thighs groans, slipping two fingers into you, making your back arch even more.

“Does our little slut like to be spread out? Do you like Frankie holding your legs open for me, bebita?” Santi growls, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You cry out at his words, throwing your head back against Frankie’s shoulder. One of your hands grabs Frankie’s thigh, and the other one grips Santi’s hair once again.

“Yes,” you respond, pushing his head back towards your dripping slit. “Lick my pussy like you mean it, Santi.” He groans deep in his chest and dives back in, and you feel Frankie bite the junction between your neck and shoulder in arousal. Santi continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it in tiny circles. You feel your orgasm begin to rise in your lower belly, intensifying with each thrust and lick. Santi feels your slick walls bear down on his fingers.

“That’s it, honey, I know you want to come for me,” Santi says.

“Give it to us,” Frankie whispers in your ear. “Come for me and Santi.”

Frankie’s command is all it takes to snap the tether in your core, shattering you into pieces as the pleasure courses hot through your body. You scream their names as your pussy gushes wave after wave of slick, running down your thighs and Santi’s fingers, into his waiting mouth, licking and slurping obscenely, his fingers continuing to press into your g-spot to prolong your high.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now,” Santi grits out, pussydrunk. He stands up and hurriedly shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, his thick cock springing free and bobbing slightly. You feel your mouth water; his dick is just as gorgeous as Frankie’s.

Santi meets your eyes once again. “Do you want me to fuck you while Frankie holds you open, sweetheart?” Santi asks you. You pause, your pleasure-addled mind narrowing in on one idea – having them both.

“I want you both,” you moan. Santi’s eyes widen a bit and then dart to Frankie. They share a smirk and then Frankie turns to you in his lap.

“Querida, how do you want us?” Frankie inquires. “One at a time or at the same time?”

“At the same time,” you whimper. “I want you both in my pussy.”

Santi and Frankie groan in unison. Santi smiles wickedly, looking at Frankie. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

“Just like we used to,” Frankie chuckles darkly, and your fuzzy mind tucks away their exchange for later. “We have to get her ready, then.” He slowly releases your knees and turns to you, kissing the side of your face and lightly nibbling your ear. He grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning your head sideways to meet his eyes. “We’re going to work you open first, okay, baby?” he intones softly. You nod your head yes. Santi and Frankie’s eyes meet, and Santi opens the bedside table drawer, grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it to Frankie.

He catches it, reading the label. “Guava?” Frankie asks quizzically. “What happened to the mango-pineapple one?”

Santi shrugs. “I still have it,” he explains, “but guava goes better with pussy and mezcal.” You huff a laugh and Frankie smiles, kissing your forehead again and sweeping your hair out of your face.

“Guess we have an edible lube connoisseur here,” jokes Frankie, opening the cap and pouring some of the slick liquid onto his thick digits.

The sweet, juicy fruit scent wafts through the air, and Santi grabs the bottle from him, doing the same while shaking his head incredulously.“It’s not my fault that you have no sense of refinement,” he retorts. Frankie just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetness?” Frankie murmurs. You nod your head and breathe out a “yes, baby”. Frankie reaches in front of himself and slips his two lubed fingers into you, and you whimper softly. Santi follows suit, slipping two of his fingers into you next, kneeling between your legs. You feel stretched full but so turned on. They allow you a few moments to adjust, and when you nod your head, they begin swirling their fingers in opposite directions. A moan rips from your throat and you grab at the bedsheets. They continue swirling and pressing their fingers in and out, and the sight of your pussy filled with their fingers gets the both of them rock hard.

The cloud of euphoria in your head is all-consuming as they continue, your arousal reaching an almost painful peak. Suddenly you grab their wrists and both men stop immediately, concern crossing their faces. “Are you okay, bebita?” Frankie asks, his brows furrowing.

You nod your head rapidly, and then bleat out, “I need you both inside me right now.” Santi and Frankie grin at your fucked out expression, looking at each other conspiratorially.

“Well, you heard the lady, Pope,” Frankie says. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He shifts you forward as he moves to the side, pulling his underwear all the way off. He lays on his back on the bed, his hard cock against his stomach dripping pre-cum. “I want you to ride me, hermosa, and then Santi is going to enter you from behind as you lean forward,” Frankie explains.

You nod your head in understanding and straddle his thighs, facing him. Frankie hands you the lube bottle. You dribble a stream onto his waiting thickness, and he hisses as the cool liquid hits his hot velvet skin. Grabbing his slick length, you shuffle forward and guide him into your channel, whining when he bottoms out easily. Frankie reaches up and grips your hips, guiding you to ride him.

After a minute, he looks over your shoulder at Santi, who is slowly stroking his dick. “I think she’s ready, Fish,” Santi says, and Frankie nods once. Santi gets on the bed, coming to his knees behind you and grabbing your hips. Frankie slides his hands to your back, gently pulling you towards him until you’re leaning forward, laying chest to chest, your pussy on full display for Santi, stuffed with Frankie’s cock. You hear Santi groan behind you at the sight.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, bebita,” Santi admits as he slicks up his hardness with the lube. “Been thinking about being inside this pussy for months.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you tease, looking back at him. “Better hurry before the offer expires.” Santi smirks at you as he places his hands on your hips.

The moment you feel the head of Santi’s cock slide into your pussy, you gasp as the sting of the stretch hits you. You hear Santi behind you grit out a quiet “fuck”. Slowly he continues sinking into your hot, wet heat. Reaching forward, he circles your throbbing clit softly, making you whine but relax, allowing him to slip deeper into you, inch by inch. Your pussy twitches and both Santi and Frankie choke on moans.

When he fills you as far as you can take both of them, the three of you hold still. As the seconds pass, the sting gives way as you adjust to being this full. The result is rolling waves of lightning sparking through your veins with each minute movement inside of you. You let out a high-pitched whine as a knot of white-hot pleasure tightens in your core.

“Mierda, bebita,” Frankie moaned, “are you gonna come just from both of us being in you?”

“God, she feels so fucking good,” Santi murmurs, almost to himself. Both of them are gripping you tightly as you continue to whimper and whine, your high quickly building. Your breathing intensifies, and you start to shake.

It’s so much, being so full of them physically, and the thought of them both in you - two of the most attractive, sexy men you know - is nearly making you lose your mind. But you don’t want to come before your boys have even gotten to move. It almost feels like a weakness, being this fucked out for them.

“It’s ok, sweetness, let go,” says Frankie softly, realizing you’re holding off for them. He presses a kiss to your neck and it’s your undoing.

The brush of his lips against that sensitive spot right under your ear pushes you off the edge and you wail, your pleasure cresting as you jerk under their firm grips. They moan loudly, your pleasure stoking theirs. The three of you catch your breaths as you come down from your high.

Frankie looks up at you, eyes pitch black, swimming with devotion for you. Santi strokes your hips gently, his strong hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks you sweetly, rubbing his hands across your back, his thighs clenching from holding back.

You take a shaky breath. “So fucking full,” you respond, and then giggle softly at your obvious observation. The boys laugh too, and then moan slightly as your bodies shift. Santi squeezes your hips and asks, “Are you ready for us to move, hermosa?” Your head is swimming in endorphins as you whimper out, “Yes, Santi. I need both of you to fuck me now.”

With that, the two men lock eyes and nod, beginning an apparently practiced dance of their cocks. As Frankie slides himself out, Santi pushes in, and then they reverse roles. You cry out in ecstasy. It’s so much more than you could have ever imagined.

Frankie and Santi start off with slow, shallow thrusts in and out, gradually stretching you around their lengths. When Frankie hits a particularly sweet spot, you moan fervently and more slick coats them, making them both moan back in response. The friction between their cocks and your walls is delicious.

“Fuck, bebita, you look incredible taking the both of us,” Santi says, gripping your hips harder, a sheen of sweat glimmering across his body.

Frankie hums in agreement. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises. You preen at their words, arching your back to change the angle. Santi whimpers and kisses along your spine, worshiping your body. The room is thick with the smell of sex, guava, and mezcal, the squelching sounds of your pussy weaving between all three of your moans and cries of pleasure.

The boys begin to speed up the wetter you get, starting to fuck into you with vigor. You feel like your whole body is vibrating. Leaning down to kiss Frankie changes the angle once again, and Santi lets out yet another whimper as you slide your tongue along Frankie’s.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, that’s perfect,” he gasps, getting even harder inside of you. He starts to rub your clit in tight circles, making you yelp. “I want you to come one more time for us before we fill you up,” he continues. “Gonna make your pussy milk our cocks. C’mon, honey, you’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper. “I - it’s so much…”

Frankie lets out a growl. “Oh, querida, I know you can come for us one more time,” he says. “Just think about how full of cock you are right now.”

He’s right. The psychological thrill of having both men inside of you is the push you need. You start to shake again, everything tensing up. Both men moan as your channel pulls tight.

Santi leans down to your ear, still thumbing your clit. “Fucking come for us. That’s an order.”

You scream so loudly when your fourth orgasm hits you, that you’re grateful that Santi has no neighbors - because they definitely would have called the cops by now. Tears leak down your face from the intensity, and Santi whimpers loudly as he thrusts in and comes deep in you, his hot seed coating your walls. The tightness of your pussy and Santi shoving deep end up pushing Frankie’s cock out, but he couldn’t care less.

When Santi’s strokes slow and then stop, indicating he’s finished, Frankie pushes him off of you, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He shoves your legs apart, and pushes his dick harshly into you. Boneless, you lay there, moaning and taking it, unable to say anything coherent except for Frankie’s name. Your boyfriend presses your legs even further towards your shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he fucks into you hard and fast, Santi’s cum forced out of you with every snap of Frankie’s hips.

“God, you look like such a goddess right now,” Frankie babbles, nearly snarling, “so full of cum. You like that? You want me to fill you up good? You’re gonna be leaking our cum for days, querida.”

“Yes, Frankie, yes,” you moan, “please fill me up. I love your cum in me. I wanna be so full of both of you.”

With a shout, Frankie bares his teeth and comes, getting as deep as possible and filling up your cunt just like he promised. You feel his cum thick and hot in you, triggering another moan.

Frankie drops your knees back down to the bed, nearly collapsing down against your chest while the two of you pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths. Looking over, you spot Santi sitting up at the corner of the bed, looking disheveled but utterly sated, his now-soft cock still shiny with lube and your combined releases.

You reach your hand out to him, and he crawls towards you, slotting himself next to one side, while Frankie hisses as he pulls out of you and lays next to you on your other side. He smothers your neck and face with kisses, and you giggle, feeling Santi pepper kisses across the top of your head and stroking the underside of your breast affectionately with his thumb.

You let out a contented sigh. “Wow, that was…”

Frankie hums out an “incredible” at the exact same time Santi rumbles a “so fucking good” to complete your statement, which makes the three of you laugh. Giggles subsiding, something they said in the heat of the moment suddenly pops into your mind.

“Wait a second,” you say as you sit up. Both men lazily look up at you, faces blissed out, waiting for your question. “Frankie, you said, ‘just like old times’... How many times have you double teamed with Santi?”

The two of them look at each other with nearly identical smirks. Santi pipes up first. “Well, back in our Army grunt days,” he explains, “when we’d go on leave together, we kind of had this habit of teaming up to pick up women.” Your jaw drops slightly, and Santi looks amused at your shock.

“It was a fairly effective strategy,” Frankie continues. “Trying to land a girl alone was a crapshoot. But with the both of us offering her a night to remember?” Frankie huffs. “It seemed like fantasy fulfillment for almost every woman we fucked together.”

Your eyes rake over the two of them, gloriously naked and handsome as ever, in bed with you. Yeah, you can see the appeal.

“Okay, but who came up with the idea?” You ask, then immediately put up a hand into the air. “WAIT, no, I know exactly who… Santi, you slut!”

Frankie lets out a loud bark of a laugh as Santi rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed.

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t benefit from it, idiota!” Santi grumbles. Frankie reaches over, finally successfully ruffling Santi’s hair. Santi flinches and bats Frankie’s hand away, making you shake with laughter as you lounge in the post-coital haze with your boyfriend and his best friend. You don’t blame those women they slept with one bit. This was a night you will surely remember.

No pressure tags: @mermaidgirl30 @legendary-pink-dot @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem @arcanefox207 @campingwiththecharmings @exquisit3corpse @gutsby @honeyedmiller @lavendertales @lu62 @luxurychristmaspudding @ozarkthedog @qveerthe0ry @swiftispunk @sheepdogchick3 @thatshortgirlwithglasses @wannab-urs @musings-of-a-rose

#joel miller #frankie morales #santiago garcia #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales #joel miller x f!reader x santiago garcia #joel miller smut #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction

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ohforficsake · 13 days

Text

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: The boys end up at a dive bar on Frankie's birthday. Snipers are good at pool. Frankie's not gonna be able to wait until they make it home. Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

Rating: Explicit 18+ / dirty talk, momentary dry humping, jerking off in a dive bar bathroom, mention of oral sex (f receiving), bit of a come fetish (it's these two, they're just like this) / language / drunk!Frankie is the sweetest, filthiest menace with a massive competency kink / Minors DNI

A/N: A little drabble that came up a few months ago but didn't quite fit with the main Margay storyline. Just something fun to tie you over after putting you all through it with Chapter 9.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk.

There’s no falling on the floor. No getting up in other patrons’ faces. Just cheeks ruddy and round from freely-given mirth.

He’s harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

Whooping with cheers whenever anyone sinks a pool ball into a pocket, whether they’re on his team or not.

_____

He had made the trip out to northern California for the occasion, wanting only to spend his day with his daughter.

But the boys catch wind of his plan and throw in for an Airbnb on the coast for the occasion.

And in the process of planning, Santi and Benny cook up a four-beer deep idea over an empty pizza box to arrange an extra gift.

Aud, what are your thoughts on Fort Bragg? Santi fires off on a text thread between the three of them.

I’m glad that they’re changing that name, guy was a cunt.

Sorry no, California. Benny clarifies. But also, agreed.

Is that not named after the same guy?

Santi sends the house’s address at the same time Benny sends, it is yeah.

Catfish wants to spend his birthday out there with his kid and we couldn’t let him celebrate alone. Pope attempts to steer.

Wondering if you might want to tag along? Last week of June.

Send me a venmo request for my part of the booking.

_____

Something warm blooms in Audrey’s chest at the sight of Frankie with his friends, quietly strategizing over forest green pool table felt.

He throws his arm around Benny’s neck and thumps Santiago on the back when they win this round, uncaring that he and Will have lost the last three.

“Can you please play this one, this score is embarrassing,” Will leans over on his bar stool with arms crossed against his chest, voice raised just enough so Audrey can hear him over Garth Brooks being played at a decibel below ungodly volume.

“Already told you, if I play, it’s over in one turn,” she takes a swig of beer, “that’s no fun for anyone.”

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

She studies Will in the haze of neon-red tinged smoke. Audrey’s only known him for three hours, but she likes him already. Enough to grant him this favor.

“Fine.”

She slips off her bar stool and shimmies her jeans higher up on her hips before shrugging the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“You playin’, Moose?” Santiago calls with a grin.

“One round,” she holds up a finger, “save these boys some shame,” she finishes as Will hands her a cue. The minute she lifts it off the ground she murmurs “not that one,” and Will swaps her out.

“There’s no way she’s that good,” Benny quips to Pope as he racks up the balls.

“I—do not have as much confidence as you on that,” Santiago carefully lifts the triangle and slots it back under the table. “You should probably know better, Benjamin.”

“You boys are fucked,” Frankie loops his arms around both of their shoulders as Audrey chalks her cue.

She places the cue ball towards one rail behind the second set of diamonds and glances behind her, gauging the space before leaning down to eye level, bouncing and spinning the cue in her hand to get a feel for its balance before she takes her first shot.

Audrey sinks two balls on the break.

She quickly assesses the table when they come to a stop. “Stripes, do I need to call the pocket?”

“No need to be a show-off,” Pope quips.

“Fair enough,” she slips around the far side of the table and sinks the 9-ball in a corner. It lines the cue ball up perfectly and she drops 14 in a center pocket.

One lap around the table and a glance at the boys to be sure she has clearance before Audrey knocks the cue ball just off its center point, gliding it across felt where it transfers its spin to 15, sending it swirling down the rail into a corner pocket. She slips around to the opposite side of the table, banking the cue ball off the opposite rail and into 13, which slips neatly into the center pocket nearest her.

“What went in on the break?” Benny calls.

“11 and 2,” Will answers where he’s calmly perched on a barstool against the wall.

She could miss now and he’d still be impressed.

She won’t.

The cue ball is dead center on the table and 10 is sitting a foot short of a corner. Audrey circles the table, chalking her cue as she analyzes angles. The best shot is from the end nearest the three boys but she’ll have to reach for it.

She stands in front of them and murmurs “sorry, boys,” before she hikes one knee up on the side rail and leans down, chest nearly grazing the table.

Frankie covers Benny and Santi’s eyes from where his arms are still braced on their shoulders.

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

They hear 10 drop in before brushing Frankie’s hands away.

Audrey bounces the cue ball off the edge of 12, popping it into the nearest pocket.

“Oh, that’s done, she’s got it,” Benny murmurs when the white ball comes to a stop directly in line with the corner pocket nearest Will, the 8 ball sitting perfectly in the middle of the shot.

Audrey sinks it and Frankie whoops, clapping both men on the back before rushing around the table to grab Audrey in a bear hug that lifts her up off her feet.

“FUCK yeah, baby!!!” He screams, taking her face in his hands and mashing his mouth against hers.

“Okay, down boy,” she quips with a smile.

“Well played, Moose,” Will holds out his hand for a shake.

“Alright, the rest is on y’all,” she hands the cue off to Will. “I gotta hit the restroom and then I’ll pick up another round.” She makes her way around the table, Benny and Santi congratulate her with claps on the back before she’s off down the hall.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Catfish,” Will chalks his cue.

Frankie answers with the quirk of a brow and a smirk that drips with filth.

One of the patrons recognizes Benny from fight night and it causes a stir. Turns out Will knows him from high school and everyone’s fascinated with what a small world it really is, attention distracted enough to allow Frankie to slip away.

_____

Audrey wrenches the door to the bathroom open and collides with Frankie’s chest.

“Jesus, Francisco.”

He backs her up with his body, kicking the bathroom door closed and latching it as his mouth crashes against hers, twisting his cap around backwards.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” He smashes her against the wall with his broad form, craning low to kiss at what skin he can get to under her turtleneck before giving up and sucking on her earlobe.

“Yeah, well, I guess” she pants as Frankie drops to his knees and grabs at her hips, grinding the bulge in his jeans against her shin as he mouths at her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, “don’t play pool with a sniper.”

Frankie is fully hard as he ruts against her, pulling clumsily at the button and zipper of her jeans. He inhales against her mound and moans before quickly getting to his feet.

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

He’ll sniff crotches and hump legs too, apparently.

Audrey grabs his face between her hands in an effort to center him, dipping her tongue into his mouth before Frankie pulls back.

“Fuuuck baby,” he reaches down to squeeze his cock through his jeans, “I’m not gonna make it, baby, I can’t–”

“Frankie–”

“Shhh, gatita, please,” he clamps a hand over her mouth as his forehead thumps hard against hers, “fuck,” he huffs, “I’m gonna. Pull those pretty panties down for me, beautiful. Just a little bit.”

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes.

She slips her jeans and thong down her thighs, eyes locked on Frankie’s locked on black lace.

“Right there. That’s my pretty girl. Yeahh,” he shifts around to free himself from his jeans and she moans into his palm where he slides the hot, hard length of him against her center.

Frankie indulges for a moment, slipping his cock against the smooth wet of her lips.

“Shit,” he hisses before gripping himself in his fist, brown eyes searching green for permission.

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

It takes him less than a minute before thick ropes of semen spurt into the gusset of her panties as he groans against the back of his hand where it’s still clamped over her mouth.

“Gatita?” He lets go on a ragged gasp once his hips have stilled and he’s worked himself through.

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm.

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” he lets his hand drop but keeps his forehead pressed against hers.

Frankie’s fingers move down to hook in the waistband of her lace thong before he slips it, warm and sticky and reeking of his spend back up into place.

“Keep that for me?” He slips his tongue in her mouth, fastening the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper closed. “I’m gonna come back for it.”

He presses a final, wet kiss to her lips, warm palm resting briefly on her cheek before he slips out of the door.

He leaves her frayed with want. Panting through burning lips as her head thumps back against the wall.

Sometimes she wonders if Frankie Morales is the filthiest motherfucker alive.

Two hours later when he cleans her cunt with his tongue—cap twisted round backwards on his head, wet panties stuffed into the pocket of his jeans—she realizes he probably is.

He probably is.

And he's hers.

Tagging a few lovely folks who are/might be interested: @tinytinymenace @theshensei @jeewrites @oliveksmoked @for-a-longlongtime

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

@soft-persephone @julesonrecord @legendary-pink-dot

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the margay #ohforficsake

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thirstworldproblemss · 5 months

Note

Hi!

I was swimming around the FishBen tag on tumblr and saw you recced at least one FishBen fic.... do you happen to have any more? I love them

Hello, nonny!

I love FishBen tooooo!! Sadly, there is not nearly enough Frankie x Benny content out there in the world, but I'm happy to share the (smallish) list of fics I've found for them so far. (Anyone aware of Frankie x Benny content that I've missed, please jump in with recs!! Anon and I will both love you for it!! 😘)

Anyway, on to the...

FishBen Rec List

List Notes:

Fics are Sorted by pairing then alphabetically by Title

Uses AO3 Ratings: General audiences - Teen & up - Mature - Explicit

Check your Content Settings if you're 18+ and want to be able to see mature content (Settings -> scroll down to Content You See -> Community Labels -> Mature -> show)

Links sometimes misbehave on desktop–If none of the links are working, try opening in dashboard mode (click the eye-shaped button in the far top right)

Partially cribbed from my prev Frankie x Benny (x reader) ask response

Frankie x Benny (aka. Just the FishBen)

(Why is it that FishBen tends to come almost exclusively either fluffy and/or sexy OR whumpy and full or angst? Who knows, but I love it either way!!)

== Sweet and/or Sexy ==

The Beginning (ao3) by @elvenmother [FxB, get-together fic E, 2.1k, oneshot]

Inside, Upside, & Out by @midnightartemis [FxB, get-together smut, E, 3.7k, complete?]

Put Your Name On It (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, sweet & sexy, E, 2.3k, oneshot]

Put Yourself in My Place (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, bodyswap smut, E, 3.1k, oneshot]

Right on Cue (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [pre-FxB, bartender!Frankie, T, 0.4k, oneshot]

Tennessee Whiskey by @mssr-mcknickers [WxS with some FxB, cute Halloween fic, T, 1k, oneshot]

Trou de Cu (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, silly & sweet sex shenanigans, E, 0.4k, oneshot]

You Leave a Mark by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, secret relationship, M, 0.4k words, oneshot]

fishben art by @littledozerdraws (dancing, post-fight, pre-fight?, being cute & sweet) [ART: FxB, cute & sweet!]

—

== Angst / Whump ==

*be sure to read the warnings with these; things get pretty dark in some of 'em

Cry a Little by @wyn-n-tonic [FxB, hurt/comfort angst, M, 0.8k, oneshot]

fuckin' tell me by @waywaychuck [sort of pre-FxB, hurt/comfort, 0.9k, oneshot]

slippin' off the rails by @waywaychuck [FxB (implied WxS), whump & hurt/comfort, T, 4k, oneshot]

Though I Be The Last by @kesskirata [some FxB in amongst the team whump, E, 19k, 13ch as of Oct '22]

Frankie x Benny x Reader

(I know you didn't ask for this, 'nonny, but since pure FishBen is few and far between, I figured I'd add these as well, for you or anyone else who is interested)

A Helping Hand (ao3) by @dameronscopilot [Fx RxB, smutty threesome, E, 2.2k, oneshot]

Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me? by @everyhowlmarksthedead [FxR x B, revenge? smut, E, 2,8k, oneshot]

Better Together 'verse by @absurdthirst & @wardenparker [FxRxB, E, 53k, 5 finished oneshots in an ongoing series] Fics: Better Together, Taking Care Together, Waking Up Together, Celebrating Together, Together for Christmas

Flashback (ao3) by @green-socks [FxR xB, pining & fluff, E, 0.9k, oneshot]

Heat Wave (ao3) by @thirstworldproblemss & @astroboots [FxRxB, pining pwp, E, 2.2k oneshot in a larger series]

(hold tight) everything's fine by @raincityruckus [FxR("she")xB, pining smut, E, 5.3k, part of a poly!TF series]

Just us by @ezrasbirdie [FxR xB, plus size!reader, E, 4.5k, oneshot, au in series]

Made with Love (ao3) by @thristworldproblemss [FxB (w/in FxRxB), silly hurt/comfort fluff, M, 1k, oneshot in a series]

Messy Pile of Affection (ao3) by @flightlessangelwings [Fx RxB, get-together fic, E, 12k, completed fic in an ongoing series] Series Masterlist

Moonlight 'verse (ao3) by @absurdthirst & @wardenparker [FxRxB, werewolf!Frankie, E, 32k, 2 completed fics in a series] Fics: Moonlight Madness & Full Moon Fury

Not A Competiton (But I'm Winning) (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxRxB, pegging smut, E, 1.2k, oneshot]

No Thinking Over the Weekend by Jazzelsaur (only on ao3) [FxR xB, get-together smut, E, 8.0k, long oneshot]

That's all I could remember and/or find for now. Sorry it's not bigger list, 'nonny! It's really a shame Frankie x Benny stuff isn't more popular since it's such a fun pairing. Anyway, thanks for the ask, and for giving me a chance to spread the FishBen love!! 💕

🧡 twp

—

Want more to read? Check out my other Author, Fic, & Fanwork Recs

#answered asks #anon ask #frankie morales #benny miller #triple frontier #frankie x benny #frankie morales x benny miller #fishben #fic recs #fic rec list #thirstworldproblemss #twp rec list

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sunshinegat0r · 10 months

Text

This one is completely self-indulgent for me to make myself feel better. Recovering from surgery is hard, and it’s okay to cry about it and let yourself feel shitty! And then pour all your feelings into a comfort fic with your fave and toss it into the void! I promise it’s softer than the content warnings make it seem. I've been staring at this all weekend and I'm ready to let it go. :)

Scars ~ Zoro x GN!Reader

CW: Body dysphoria, discussion of medical issues, surgery, illness, scarring. Reader is GN but one gendered term is used at the end (girl). WC: 1,859

Music played softly in the room you and Zoro shared on the Sunny, the phonograph giving it a fuzzy quality. It was a subtle backdrop to your sniffles as you cried quietly on the bed, a stuffed animal clutched tightly to your chest, tears dripping steadily onto its plush head. Other items littered the modest room, gifts from your friends and crew mates to distract or help you through the recovery process. The phonograph was from Brook, the plush from Nami - Robin had, of course, given you plenty of books to read in bed. Sanji kept you well-supplied with soft foods, easy to swallow, whenever you had enough appetite to eat them. Usopp and Franky had even teamed up to build an attachment for your bed that adjusted the angle of the mattress so you could easily sit up. All of these physical signs of their love helped make the bedroom feel less like a prison and more like a safe nest during the weeks since your surgery.

Although staying cooped up anywhere for so long would doubtless be a drain on your mental health. There wasn’t a porthole in the room so you weren’t even sure what time of day it was. Since you could hear muffled shouts through the thick wood of the deck above, you assumed it was daytime - Luffy was probably up to something, maybe pulling Usopp and Chopper into his antics. You thought it had been long enough since your last attempt at a meal that Sanji would be sending something down - hopefully with Zoro, you weren’t feeling strong enough to face anyone else right now.

Sure enough, the bedroom door soon swung open, revealing a shirtless green-haired man balancing a tray of food on one hand. You dragged your gaze up to meet his. The feelings that skipped through your heart were relief… and a little bit of guilt and shame. That he had to see you this way. That you couldn’t get it together and relieve some of the burdens in your relationship he had taken on while you were recovering from the surgery.

Not that he would ever voice any complaints about your situation. Zoro gave you everything you asked for and more with a tender stoicism that you tried to ground yourself with. He was there when you woke up coughing in the middle of the night, bringing you ice chips. He massaged your calf muscles, sore after spending weeks in bed. He even tried to keep the rest of the Strawhats from pestering you too much - although you knew they were just worried about you (you think he even growled at Brook once when the musician wouldn’t leave you alone).

Now, Zoro took in your dull stare and disheveled state, slipping into the room and gently closing the door behind him. Frowning, he crossed the small space quickly and set the tray onto your crowded bedside table. Your lover crouched in front of you, taking hold of your hands, pulling them towards him. This loosened your grip on the stuffed toy and it fell to the side, bouncing onto the floor, revealing your chest and neck.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt anywhere?” Zoro asked you briskly but not unkindly. His eye danced across your body, checking for any bleeding or other abnormalities. Chopper had told him a few things to look out for in these next few weeks, but he didn’t see any signs of them. Finding none he relaxed slightly and met your gaze as you shook your head the tiniest amount.

Slowly you raised your head to stare at the wall behind him, straightening your bruised and scarred neck, baring it to the swordsman. It looked different than the last time he had checked on you, more pink and somewhat cleaner.

You cleared your throat, cheeks red with embarrassment, and in a small voice told him, “The glue was starting to peel a lot, so I started picking at a corner, and then… I couldn’t help myself once it started, and I peeled the whole thing off. Chopper said it would start to flake off around now anyways…” You couldn’t make yourself look at his expression. Closed your eyes as you spoke. “It didn’t hurt, but when I looked in the mirror afterwards, I- I had gotten so used to seeing it the way it was. And now it looks so different, and-” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, thick and fast. You felt ridiculous. Zoro’s grip on you tightened, his thumbs starting to rub soothing circles on the back of your hands.

You took a deep breath, unable to stop crying but trying to steady yourself. “It’s so much more raised than I was expecting it to be, so much more… obvious,” you whispered. “My skin feels weird and it’s just freaking me out, and once I started crying, I just… I just-”

“Shhh,” Zoro hushed you gently, rising from the floor and gathering you into his arms as your tears turned into sobs once again. He didn’t say anything beyond making comforting noises and hums, letting you feel them rumble through his chest. His arms were strong around you, his body emitting a steady warmth that seeped into your cold limbs, warming you to your core. He let you cry yourself out, releasing all of your panic, sorrow, frustration from the past few weeks. Frustration with how slow the recovery process was. With how it felt like every time you took a couple steps forward, you took even more back again. At how you sometimes felt like a stranger in your own body. Zoro held you as you hiccuped your way through all of your emotions, providing a solid sense of stability for you to anchor yourself. One arm always remained firmly around you but the other slowly trailed caresses down your back, sending distracting and calming sensations through your body.

Finally your tears subsided and you lifted your head from his chest, heavy and exhausted. “Hey,” he whispered as his brown eye met your puffy ones.

“Hi,” you mumbled back, indulging in a long blink when he leaned in to press a loving kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I’m being such a baby about this-”

Zoro sternly says your name, exasperated. “You just had major surgery not even one month ago. Your body is healing, but your mind has to heal too. You need to give it the time it needs.”

“You’re one to talk,” you mutter. “How many times has Chopper said the exact same thing to you? And how many times have you listened?”

Zoro grinned at you, the expression lifting your mood more than anything else. “Don’t act like we’re the same,” he teased. “Besides, I give my body exactly enough time to heal before I start training again.”

“Bullshit!” you squawk indignantly, slapping a hand weakly against his chest. He chuckled at your protest but didn’t argue back. With your hand on his bare skin, you let him distract you from your malaise a little more. “…Where’s your shirt?”

He grunted, nodding his head to the side table. You saw a rumpled shirt you hadn’t noticed before next to the tray of food he had brought in. “Luffy was pigging out, as usual, and spilled a whole plate on me. I was going to work out after I checked on you anyways, figured I didn’t need it.”

You deflated at the thought of being left alone again so soon. The soothing tones from the phonograph wended their way to your ears, filtering through now that you had calmed down somewhat. You looked up at the swordsman, hesitant but hopeful. “Zoro… Would you dance with me? Please?”

And how could he resist when you asked so sweetly? Wetness still clung to your lashes and, despite the redness, your eyes sparkled when you looked at him. He couldn’t believe you thought yourself weak when, when Zoro looked at you, he saw the strongest person he’d ever met. The path from illness to diagnosis to treatment to, finally, recovery, had been such a whirlwind. And yet you’d still found moments to smile and laugh, to comfort him when his own paranoia got the best of him, when he struggled with being unable to protect you from your disease. When he felt that he wasn’t strong enough.

Unable to deny you anything, Zoro slowly stood from the bed, pulling you with him, never letting you leave the circle of his arms. The music drifted from one song to another, perfect for swaying together. Nimble on his feet during a fight, Zoro was all lefts when it came to dancing anything more complicated than a shuffle. You didn’t mind in this moment, too pleasantly surprised that he agreed without protest and tired from crying to move much yourself.

Your arms wrapped around his waist and you laid your head back against his chest, fitting in neatly right under his chin. You could hear his heart beating steadily, a metronome in your ear, and tried to match yours to it. He rested his head on top of yours and lazily started to sway with you. His grip was firm and protective, holding you close. The bedside lamp glowed with a cozy yellow light that made everything fuzzy - perfectly matched to the phonograph’s crackle. The world seemed to be slowing down to give you a chance to breathe.

His golden earrings chimed softly as he spoke, keeping his chin planted on the crown of your head. “Thought you’d trust my word when it comes to stuff like this. I’ve got plenty of experience with scars.” His tone was teasing, but it did give you pause.

With your face directly on his pectoral it was hard not to look at the giant scar that roped across his body. You brought your hand around to trace curious fingertips along it. Zoro wasn’t exactly one for any type of special skincare, so his scars all went untreated once the bandages were removed. No skin strips to lower them, no creams to make them more subtle or blend with his skin. And he had so many of them - his chest, of course, and his eye, but also scattered across his arms and legs. Each one was a story that he had survived. That he had succeeded in protecting what was important to him, and come out stronger for it.

Zoro continued to rock you as your fingers roamed. He could feel when you finally gathered your tumbling thoughts, your body tensing and relaxing as you let out a long breath of air.

“Well, at least it’s not on my back,” you finally stated, voice wobbling, halfway between joking and serious.

The swordsman raised an eyebrow at that before a laugh burst out of him, startling you from his chest. He cupped your cheek with one large hand, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. It’s like his smile transferred from him to you because you were wearing a slight grin when he pulled away. Zoro knocked his forehead against yours, still smiling proudly as he murmured, “That’s my girl.”

Tag List: @zoros-sheath

#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #one piece fanfiction #dysphoria #surgery #illness #scarring #sunshinegator writes

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prolix-yuy · 1 year

Text

Plus One

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"

Summary: It's Ms Jackson's company holiday party, and Frankie makes his debut.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, references to past escort work, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism kink, references to oral sex and anal play, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), spanking, possessive play, little bit of brattiness, Frankie is too damn hot and Ms J is gonna make him pay for it (in the best way).

Notes: Here's my (slightly late) SW!Frankie Christmas story! This is dedicated to @lowlights for saying "All I want for Christmas is SW!Frankie" and I couldn't resist giving her exactly that. She also picked Frankie's holiday party outfit, which is absolute perfection and I would climb him like a tree if he showed up in this fit.

Takes place after Callback.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Masterlist

The internal monologue running in the back of your mind comments on the tasteful decor, how the poinsettias and fake candles and red and green tablecloths really dress up the restaurant. The thought that “HR did a really nice job” skitters through your mind, and the warm scent of cider and mulled wine and store-bought cookies all envelops you in a nostalgic holiday mood.

Well, it would, but on the other hand this holiday party might actually kill you. Honestly. And yet you have to pretend that you’re not dying inside, a calm smile on your face while you fight back against the urge to scream.

It all started with an email.

Hi Team!

It’s that time of year again - our annual holiday party! Please join us for appetizers and drinks at Lesandro’s at 6pm Friday, December 23rd. If you want to enter the raffle for a special prize, please email Alison for a ticket.

This was all fine and dandy until you got to the next line.

Plus ones are welcome!

You shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not the first time your office has extended invites to partners. You had brought your ex-husband in the past, the brief sting of the memory flitting through your mind. It was to be expected every year, a night to enjoy yourselves on the company’s dime in lieu of bonuses.

You would gladly accept a check rather than the cocktails and finger foods, but you weren’t not on the planning committee.

A little tremor of excitement over that line lightened your spirits for the rest of the day. Thinking of Frankie schmoozing with your coworkers made a smile come to your face, and his solid comfort being by your side actually made you look forward to the event. The scales tipped more towards anxiety when you walked into your home, Frankie coming down the stairs with damp hair.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, a quick squeeze of a hug before heading to your car for groceries. Worrying at your lower lip, you waited until you were both in the kitchen sorting produce before you spoke up.

“I’ve got a company party coming up in a couple weeks,” you said, toppling a few apples onto the counter.

“You’ll be out late?” Frankie asked, dumping fruit into a colander in the sink. The running tap let you take your time with your response.

“Actually, I can bring a plus one,” you tried to say breezily, rolling a stray lemon under your palm. It grounded you as Frankie turned to you. “If you want to come,” you added at the end. When his pause went on too long you hazarded a look up at him. He was smiling in that somewhat exasperated way that let you know you’d been overthinking again.

“Why wouldn’t I want to come? Maybe I can guess which one of those girls steals your yogurt on Wednesdays.” The remark made you giggle, leaning back against the counter as Frankie’s mischievous eyes eased your tension.

“I don’t know, I built it up in my head, asking you.” You shrugged, voice getting a little softer. “My ex never liked going to these things. Complained for weeks before and after, then would barely talk to me when we were there.” You shifted, crossing your arms over your chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d talked about your past relationships with Frankie, but having to feel the grief, the sickness in the pit of your stomach, the tension of revising those memories still made you want to crawl out of your own skin. Frankie’s hands, heavy and soothing, wrapped around your biceps.

“If you want me there, I’m there,” he said, rubbing your arms with a reassuring smile. You nodded, letting your forehead drop against his shoulder when he stepped closer. Sucking a deep breath in, Frankie’s clean musk and fresh soap smell released the tight muscles in your jaw. “Where are they having it?”

“Lesandro’s.”

“Oh, so it’s like, a nice party,” Frankie mused, hand kneading at the back of your neck where you held much of your stress. You melted into the massage, pressing your cheek to his plush chest.

“Eh, we come from the office, you don’t have to dress up,” you mumbled into his worn t-shirt. He hummed in response.

“Could be fun, though,” he said, working his thumb into the meat of your shoulders. “Dressing up for it. I’d like to make a good first impression.”

Leaning back, you raised an eyebrow at Frankie.

“Oh really?”

He blushed, and you thought your heart might explode at the sight. Slipping your fingers into the wisps of gray-brown hair at the nape of his neck, you swayed against your boyfriend.

“Then bring your A-game, handsome.”

Which is why you’re standing here now, close to literally exploding.

Because when Frankie texted to tell you he was here, you didn’t expect what walked in the door.

First of all, no Standard Oil hat. You didn’t expect him to wear it, but it’s such a part of himself now you forget he can go without it. He styled his hair loose and curling, not a wild mane but controlled wisps that flick out around his ears and bounce along his forehead. Little glints of silver you refuse to let him cover up at a salon catch the glittering lights in the restaurant. He’s wearing a white button-up, the top two buttons open to bare a delicious vee of tan skin around his throat. He clearly wasn’t patient enough with the sleeves, though, because he’s rolled them up around his elbows, accenting his strong forearms. You’ve never seen the pants he’s wearing, some sort of dark blue-black slacks that hug his trim hips perfectly before descending to black leather monkstrap shoes.

And he’s wearing his fucking glasses.

Your cunt throbs at the sight.

He searches the crowd, the smile that breaks out when you lock eyes making your legs weak. He weaves his way through your coworkers, a few watching him curiously as he scoots by. Once he’s made it to you, a hand on your lower back and a kiss to your cheek, the eyes that followed him now land on you. The pride this swells in your chest makes you giddy.

“Have I missed all the food?” Frankie asks in your ear, your response a shaken head. He mock-sighs in relief before Cindy strides up to you both, ever the nosy one. Her smile is too big, hand outstretched to Frankie.

“And who have we here?” she asks, eyes flitting between you both. You brim with a little more pride when Frankie takes her hand, giving her a kind but firm handshake.

“Francisco Morales, the boyfriend,” he says with a little jest in his voice, Cindy laughing louder than necessary.

This is the theme of the night, Frankie approached by coworkers and chatting his way through the first impressions. You smile and schmooze along with him, but inside marvel over how smooth he is. The perfectly timed jokes, the attentive smiles. As Cindy (and some people you’ve never even met) approach and leave, he knows exactly how to engage and play off their differing personalities. Giving space to the chatterbugs, coaxing conversation from the quiet ones, engaging in interests and offering his opinions.

“This won’t be my first time in a room full of strangers with high expectations,” Frankie had said a few days before when you offered him an out on the party. The implication flew over your head until he added, “I’ve been hired as an escort too.”

The revelation led to another one of those matter-of-fact conversations that were so fascinating with Frankie. He talked about sex work (and escorting, in this case) with no more emotional attachment than discussing what cars he worked on.

“I did a charity event once, older woman who wanted a younger man on her arm but didn’t want to look pathetic.”

“A girl had a bodyguard fantasy we played out at the Plaza. One of the nicest hotel rooms I’ve worked in.”

“You learn a lot by acting like the trophy, and people will tell you the wildest shit if you just listen.”

All of these skills were in action now as you watched him listen to someone from customer support discussing chatbot services. The second glass of champagne in your hand is warming under your fingers but you barely notice because this is a Frankie you rarely see. He’s in an element that’s foreign to you, used to his soft competency and attention and now witnessing his surety, his confidence, his ease at shifting into exactly what everyone wants.

Even the moments when you feel a stab of jealousy - Debbie touching his arm when he makes a joke, how he gives everyone his undivided attention - he always makes his way back to you. His hand rests on your lower back, pulling you into conversations when you’re being edged out. And when you’re leading, having a discussion with a coworker, he listens closely by your side and nods along, even if you know he’s lost as to the topic.

It’s turning you on way more than you want to admit.

The party is grating on your nerves after an hour and a half, your brain screaming at you to leave. Listening to Carl complain about the cost of events planning pales in comparison to showing Frankie exactly how much he’s been affecting you all night. The ache only worsens when you catch a glimpse of his profile, smiley and easygoing, as his shirt gapes to reveal no undershirt underneath. You could slip your fingers inside and drag them along the smooth expanse of skin there, before slipping them down to pop every button open as you descend lower and lower…

“Your man not dress up for you much?”

Erica, one of your favorite coworkers and confidant, sidles up next to you as Frankie tries to leave a conversation by the drinks table, two glasses in hand. Your face heats up as you fan yourself surreptitiously with a napkin.

“Mmmhmmm, okay no need to answer that one for me. Boss left ten minutes ago, go get your man out of here before Johnson bores him to death,” she murmurs, giving you an approving look before going back to her lost-looking husband. Her revelation, coupled with your increasing need, rockets you across the room to Frankie’s relieved face.

“Sorry Johnson, I need Frankie for a minute. Nice seeing you!” you rush out, depositing Frankie’s proffered glasses on a waiter’s tray. Hands free, you tug Frankie to the exit, his voice lost in the rush of blood to your ears.

Out of the stuffy room and into the cooler night, Frankie huffs in surprise when you push him back against the building’s exterior and steal a heated kiss, a quick press of the lips preceding your tongue pressing into his mouth, stifling his moan with your own. Taking the hint, he pulls your hips flush with his, attacking your mouth with as much fervor as you’re giving. His teeth scrape against your tongue, letting you grind him against the concrete wall before he spins you to switch places.

“You had to wear the fucking glasses,” you gasp when he pulls back enough to nibble along your jaw.

“Thought they’d make me look smarter,” he whispers in your ear, palming one breast with the broad expanse of his hand. You mewl under the attention, mind hazily realizing you’re way too out in the open to be getting groped so thoroughly.

“Thought you’d ruin my panties is more like it,” you hiss back, spreading your legs to invite him between them. He shakes his head against your neck.

“Not here, let me take you home and take my time,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear. The whine you squeeze out surprises you both, “needy little thing” the next words that Frankie drips against your skin.

“C’mon Frankie, feel how wrecked you made me,” you goad, the roll of his hips against your core revealing Frankie’s desire as plainly as your own. Stealing a glance towards the front door, he slides a hand under your skirt and swiftly pulls your panties to the side, sliding two fingers through the slick mess.

“Fuck, baby, all this for me?” he asks, and the buck of your hips against his hand slides his fingertips inside you shallowly. He growls in your ear, that feral noise that makes you want to push him until he snaps and takes from you. Pulling you away from the wall, he sucks his wet fingers into his mouth with a flash of darkness in his eyes.

“Get in the truck, we’re going,” he says quickly, his stride longer and faster paced than usual. His own need mirroring yours makes a wicked idea bloom in your lust-addled mind. It would get you into some trouble, but the reward would be as good as the punishment. Maybe better.

Frankie buckles in and drives you swiftly out of the parking lot, your house only a twenty minute trip from Lesandro’s. Twenty long, aching minutes with Frankie so close you can almost taste him. You need to taste him.

Palming his hard cock through the slacks earns you a groan and a swat at your hand, Frankie’s knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

“Baby, stop, I need to get us home. You can last twenty minutes,” he admonishes, which only mounts your need. Another long stroke, another warning, and you’re popping the top button of his pants open. He says your name now, hand coming to wrap around your wrist as you slide his zipper down.

“Please, Frankie, just let me taste you. I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg, one hand slipped under your own skirt and sliding through your slick. “You got me so worked up, I just want to make you feel good.” Leaning over you blow a puff of hot air onto his cock, still straining against his boxer briefs. A string of curses fall from his lips as you mouth him, wetting the cotton with your tongue.

“Fuck, you just can’t wait, can you? Okay, baby, okay, but you can’t…you can’t suck me off, I’ll crash the fucking truck if you try. Just hold me in your mouth if you need it that bad,” Frankie gasps, the words finally allowing you to slip his cock from its confines and into your hot mouth. He groans loud at your heat engulfing him, your clever fingers finding your clit and stroking quick circles as you try your best to follow his rules. But Frankie is large and thick in your mouth. You can’t help sliding back up to adjust your jaw wider. Or when you slide back down your tongue flattens against the underside, lapping at the thick vein. That’s just a force of habit.

When you hum at the feeling of his head brushing the back of your throat, you can’t help but admit that you’re doing it on purpose.

“Fucking Christ,” Frankie swears, and you feel the car move from asphalt to dirt before coming to an abrupt stop. You slide your lips up and off his cock to ask why he stopped, but Frankie is already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you up to his mouth. He crashes his lips against yours, holding you in place with one firm hand on the back of your neck.

“Little tease,” he purrs, and the rush of heat to your cunt has you arching into his chest, burying your wet fingers in his hair. “I was going to take you home, spread you out on our bed and make you cum so many times you’d lose your voice.” Frankie’s thick fingers pinch your jaw, widening it so he can delve deeper with his tongue. You’re practically dripping on the bench seat, trying to move to your back but he holds you there, and the roughness of his touch makes your body thrum like a live wire.

“Was going to lick this pretty pussy until you came on my face, then flip you over and do it again. Maybe even tease your perfect little asshole,” he continues, your heart hammering in your chest as he pushes your arousal higher and higher. “Then I was going to make you cum around three fingers. Get you to squirt for me.”

“Frankie, fuck, please…” you whine, hips rocking against nothing, but he wraps his hands around them and bumps your noses together.

“Oh I’d have you begging by then too, but no, you couldn’t behave. Couldn’t wait the twenty minutes to get you home.” Your world spins as Frankie turns you to face away from him, pulling your ass tight against his hips. Heat blooms along your chest and face when you realize you’ve pushed him enough to lead to this.

“So you’re getting what you wanted, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you, needy little thing. Gonna give you my cock and you’re gonna take it just like this.” With that he flips your skirt up over your ass and slides his cock through your slick. Your jaw drops open; the truck is barely off the road, hidden by a few overhanging trees and a lack of streetlights but still very visible to another car passing by. Thighs trembling, you try to steady your breathing. It’s dangerous and mollifying, exhilarating and terrifying.

“You know what to say if you don’t want this,” Frankie murmurs in your ear, gentler than before. You do, you know the colors and the words that will slow Frankie down. But like hell do you want that right now.

“Green, handsome,” you shoot back, wiggling your butt against him. He chuckles darkly, guiding your hips to slide his cock over your clit.

“Then put your hands on the door,” he says, nudging you forward to brace yourself against the passenger door. Knocking your knees apart, Frankie’s bulk settles against your ass before his thick head begins breaching you.

Eyes rolling back and your mouth open in a silent moan, you savor the girth of Frankie’s cock with no preparation. You’re so slick and yielding, but he always stretches you to your limits. Even as he fucks shallowly into you, getting you used to him, you beg for more.

“Please Frankie, fuck me, want you to wreck me, been wanting you inside me all night,” you groan, pushing back to bury him deep inside, grinding the base of his cock to tease your throbbing clit. Frankie’s hands tighten around your hips, and with a sharp snap that knocks a gasp out of you as he sets a powerful pace.

The truck cabin fills with the lewd sound of Frankie’s fat cock fucking into your wet cunt, his guttural moans mixing with your higher ones. When you look behind you, Frankie’s baring his teeth and puffing air through his nose, curls sticking to the sweat at his temples.

“This what you need, beautiful? Needed me to pound this pussy until you can’t think? Needed me to claim what’s mine?” His filthy words hit a chord deep inside you didn’t know existed until he spoke it into life. You roll your hips back against him, leveraging your thrusts with your hands on the door.

“Yes Frankie, need you to fucking take me, make me yours, take what you want, I want everyone to know I’m yours,” you babble. A sudden crack of skin on skin makes you cry out, flooding your cunt with arousal. Frankie soothes the red handprint on your ass before tapping his fingers along it.

“Fuck, baby, you like that?” he moans as you nod vigorously in response. “Yeah, I can feel how much you liked that. Take it,” he orders before he slaps your other cheek, admiring how your movements get sloppier as you writhe in pleasure. “Mine,” he growls, another gentler slap. “Mine,” he pants as he yanks you back and pushes your chest to the seat, arching your ass up high for him to keep pounding into. “Mine,” he growls into your ear when he folds over your body, his thrusts shortening but hitting that powerful spot, tightening you around his cock.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I can feel it, you’re so close. Cum on me baby, I’m…fuck, I’m yours,” Frankie gasps, the possessiveness now curling in your own heart as you listen to him rail you within an inch of your sanity while repeating “yours” under his breath.

“Frankie, please…” you ask, not sure of what you need but he nods against your spine. Threading his fingers between yours, he slides his other hand to your clit and strums it fast and hard, the intensity throwing you off the edge of your impending orgasm.

With a muffled shriek you cum, feet scuffling against the leather seats and your hips bucking beneath Frankie’s weight. He holds you down, guiding you through it as he works his cock slowly through the grip of your channel. When the aftershocks subside, Frankie pumps into you a handful of times, then pulls out to spill on your ass with staccato moans.

For a long moment the truck is filled with gasping breaths, Frankie using your own skirt to wipe up his spend. When his heat disappears you prop yourself up to catch him leaning against the driver door, legs splayed and his head tipped against the cool glass, chest heaving. It takes a moment to rearrange your limbs but you finally slide between his legs and rest your head against his chest. His arms come up to cradle you there, stroking your back. You enjoy the silence, the comforting cadence of Frankie’s breathing bringing you back down.

“Was that too much?” he asks, a little apprehension in his voice. “I know we don’t go down that kind of path often…”

“Frankie, that was fucking amazing,” you soothe, grinning into his chest. “And I instigated that, I knew what I was asking for. Though you did almost make me end it with that plan you laid out.”

“Oh did I?”

“Very tempting.”

“You made your choice.”

You both laugh a little, the glow of the truck’s clock reminding you of the late hour. But Frankie has one more question to air in the dark.

“You weren’t jealous tonight, were you?” he asks, tucking his chin to look at you. “Because nobody in that room held a candle to you tonight. Or any night. I’m yours, babe,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheek. The love that blooms in your chest is all the answer you need, but you’ll still say it.

“I loved being yours tonight. And every night.”

After getting back on the road, Frankie hums thoughtfully.

“If you wanted to do that every now and then…” he says tentatively, drawing your attention to his stunning profile. “You know, tease me, get me riled up, I’d be into that.”

A wicked smile curls your lips, half hidden in the dark.

“You like it when I rile you up?” you ask, leading Frankie’s hand back between your legs. You could find the energy for another round, your folds still soft and dripping. He gives you a look like he could devour you whole.

“I like it when I can show you you’re mine,” he rumbles, cupping your sex as the minutes until you’re home tick by.

“Show me again, then.”

END

The story continues in Frankie's First Time

#francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfictions #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #sw!frankie #prolix fics

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gelu-the-babosa-multiversal · 8 months

Note

Priscilla: “What do you want from me? You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well, it wasn't. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted... as long as I behaved… and sat still… and didn't speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had her career to think about… You want me to express myself? Leave me alone!” (How would Cody + Frankie + Rescue Bots react to this?) 😞

OOOOOOOOOOOF *Roblox dead sound*

They would all for sure try to comfort her but Priss would deny any action to comfort her.

The Bots would stop her but this just scares Priss more, so Boulder (as the giant gentle giant he is) talks to Priscilla finally calming her and letting Priss talk to them.

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betterthanburrow · 11 months

Note

your IG posts are so cute 🥹 an idea maybe Joe and a masters student, whoever you want as fc xx

Mid-Term Queen - Instagram AU

(Bengals Quarterback! Joe Burrow x Masters of Law Student! OC)

liked by yourinstagram and 280,701 likes

Bengals: IT'S ON 🔜 #RuleTheJungle

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yourinstagram: i can’t believe this game is scheduled THE DAY BEFORE MY MID-TERM EXAMS 😳

username1: two of the best quarterbacks in the business are going head to head this weekend!

username2: this is going to be a good game!

↳ username3: let’s hope the Bengals can get the win!

username4: my two favorite teams going against each other… i don’t know which team to root for 😳

liked by joeyb_9 and 95,725 likes

yourinstagram: objects in the mirror may be more dramatic than they appear to be.

view all 10,052 comments

littlebrother: oh we know you can be dramatic 🙄

↳ littlesister: you’re more dramatic than her!

↳ yourinstagram: i love how my favorite sibling will always have my back!

joeyb_9: shouldn’t you be studying for your mid-term exams instead of taking mirror selfies?!

↳ yourinstagram: aren’t you supposing to be practicing how to play football so that the Bengals win a game this weekend instead of being in my business?!

liked by 88,981 users

Bengals: ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE?!

#ItsMillerTime | #RuleTheJungle

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username1: WHO DEY NATION! WE’RE READY!

username2: this game has been a long time coming!

username3: WHO DEY TODEY IS THE DEY WE BEAT THE PACKERS!

↳ username4: i like the confidence and faith that you have in the Bengals!

username5: it’s time to PACK up the PACKERS 🔥

liked by joeyb_9 and 78,259 more users

yourinstagram: the honorary member of the Cincinnati Bengals football team wants to join the team against the Green Bay Packers football team today.

view all 13,891 comments

CincyProblems: why isn’t Frankie joining the team?!

↳ yourinstagram: ask the Bengals QB!

↳ joeyb_9: i just don’t know if Frankie will help us win a football game… Frankie doesn’t like chasing balls.

liked by 21,044 users

CincyProblems: it looks like Joe Burrow’s girlfriend and her dog won’t be in attendance of today’s football game against the Green Bay Packers.

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username1: those sunglasses that Joe bought for Frankie probably cost more than my apartment rent.

username2: i love how all Bengals fans are obsessed with Frankie.

username3: when is Frankie going to become the official mascot for The Bengals?!

liked by yourinstagram and 299,560 users

Bengals: Fought to the finish.

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username1: from a Packers fan, y’all played a good game! the game could’ve gone either way… hope this team makes it to the playoffs this year!

username2: #FIREZACTAYLOR

yourinstagram: better luck next time boys

↳ joeyb_9: we should’ve let Frankie on the field.

username3: i love this team, we got something special that no other NFL team has! maybe this game will show people that we’ll fight like hell to be competitive!

username4: why is everybody so mad and crying… it was a good game even if the Bengals lost?!

liked by joeyb_9 and 110,835 more users

yourinstagram: MID-TERM QUEEN 💗

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littlesister: CONGRATULATIONS!

↳ yourinstagram: thank you!!!

joeyb_9: the queen deserves a cake to celebrate!

↳ yourinstagram: it’s fun being bribed and spoiled by the QB!

littlebrother: can i have a piece of the cake?!

yourinstagram: no… sorry 😊

liked by yourinstagram and 446,604 more users

Bengals: Nothing but respect.

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yourinstagram: i can’t believe i had to study for my mid-term exam and missed out on watching this football game between these two QBs 😩

username1: it was good game even though the Bengals lost!

username2: i love this! nothing like a brotherhood and bond of football competition!

username3: more like nothing by LOSING 🤣🤣🤣

NFL: two of the best quarterbacks in the business 🔥

Author’s Note:

it’s been a while since i’ve posted a Game Day IG AU so i hope y’all enjoyed this simple Instagram AU

if you have a request for an Instagram AU please send the IG AU request to my Inbox and i’ll try to get the Instagram AU published as soon as i can

thank you all for the love and support! 🤍

#Joe Burrow #NFL #Cincinnati Bengals #CFB #LSU Tigers #Joe Burrow Fanfiction #Joe Burrow Fanfic #Joe Burrow Fic #Joe Burrow x Reader #Joe Burrow x Y/N #Joe Burrow x OC #Joe Burrow Instagram #Joe Burrow Instagram AU #NFL Instagram #NFL Instagram AU #Instagram #Instagram AU #NFL Fanfiction

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rhoorl · 5 months

Text

Week in Review: Nov. 26 | The Week Esquire Broke My Brain...Again

This week was one to give thanks for so many things - my family, my friends, my little corner of Tumblr … and the team at Esquire (we’ll get to that). I also realized this week I reached another milestone on here and while I don’t like to harp on the numbers, it really continues to floor me that anyone reads anything of mine. So I want to say thank you. I’ll spare you another sappy rambling post, but it has meant a lot to me to be here.

With that being said, I wanted to do something fun to say thank you, but I can’t think of anything! What do others do? I’m looking around at a few ask games, but if you have one you really like, send it my way! That’s probably what I have the capacity for at the moment - because I really need to get some chapters out.

Fics I read this week:

This week I spent some time in the car, which allowed me to read a bit more than usual. Be sure to take a look at the warnings and summaries for all of my recs, just because I like it doesn’t mean everyone will.

Frankie Morales

Candy Cane by @cerridwen007 - Frankie and reader have some fun with a candy cane. Also, Frankie is still the 😺 👑

My Way by @goodwithcheese - Megan’s Frankie always does something to me and this was no exception.

Javier Peña

Snowed In - Javier's version by @avastrasposts This one-shot was 🔥 the OFC took charge and held her own against our favorite DEA agent!

Joel Miller

Gun Cleaning by @avastrasposts - A little smutty one-shot that was oh so hot!

Dieter Bravo

Back Alley Bang by @morallyinept I really have no words for this one, just thots.

Tim Rockford

Hold Tight by @sin-djarin Tim Rockford and holsters. That's all. Oh and a brilliant use of repetition!

Pause by @trulybetty I am really in my Tim era and this was 🔥 I want to know more about this couple and I really enjoy their dynamic.

Undercover by @secretelephanttattoo New series alert! I'm already hooked from the first chapter!

Marcus Pike

White Wine by @something-tofightfor Marcus is just the most thoughtful, ugh I love this man.

Ezra

Hue by @goodwithcheese - I don’t read a lot of Ezra compared to some of the other Pedro boys, but my goodness this was amazing. It was sweet and comforting, but Ezra is also a bit of a menace.

Current Compulsory Series:

I Like the Way You (Frankie) by @undercoverpena

These are the series I am keeping up with at the moment.

Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie) by @linzels-blog

Destiny & Deliverance (Dieter) by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Paranoid Heat (Javi P) by @goodwithcheese

It’s Never Too Late (Javi P) by @javierpena-inatacvest I finally caught up!!

OTHER CHARACTERS

Benny Miller / Mitch Keller

La Primera Fiesta by @marvelousmermaid Benny attends a family party for his girlfriend's family. I related to this so much as a Latina who married a tall, lanky white guy 😆 this was too cute and Benny was adorable.

Somebody's Someone by @dameronscopilot I finished Tulsa King this week and this was the first Mitch Keller story I came across and I loved it!

Pete Dunham

Like My Dreams by @laurfilijames I recently rewatched Green Street Hooligans - I feel like the last time I saw it I was in high school, maybe college, which was a while ago. Anyways, I loved Charlie Hunnam’s character Pete and I’m excited to check out Laur’s series.

Posts from the week:

The Pedro boys celebrated Thanksgiving with @morallyinept and things of course were chaotic but hilarious. This post from @pedrostories was so helpful as someone who consumes fanfic and attempts to write it as well!

In case you missed it, a fun writing challenge popped up that I think is pretty cool! Do I know what I’m writing yet? No. But an idea will come to me I’m sure.

Feral corner:

You know … every week I think, you know, this will be the week where I’m going to be chill and not a thirsty ass mess - ha sorry, I couldn’t finish that without laughing. I can’t help it, blame Pedro (but don’t blame him, we need to thank this man).

So, we’ve all seen the recent Esquire photos right?! The thots were thotting and I am still processing. Will you probably see me reblog this countless times over the next few weeks? Probably. Am I going to shoehorn this photoshoot into the Working Title universe?! Definitely.

Can we just acknowledge the duality of this man? How he just walk around being such a ray of sunshine and so adorable but then turn into an absolute menace?

Things I watched:

I spent most of the week away, but I did manage to start and finish Tulsa King, which I think is a pretty big feat. Garrett has a small role in it, but 🫠 I am here for it. I did manage to pay attention to the rest of the plot, shocking I know, and I really enjoyed this story.

Personal Stuff

Spent time traveling this week so I had a lot of car time and then family time. I went to Buc-ee’s, which is always a highlight of our road trips. If you haven’t been or know what it is, picture a gas station/convenience store/general store and then multiply that by 100. Is it a bit overwhelming and overstimulating? Yes. But I guess I’m a glutton for punishment because I have to go to one every time I pass by.

The holidays caused a bit of a blip in my health journey. I’m trying to reframe my thinking about it. My initial reaction would have been to write “ugh I was so bad this week and ate so many bad foods” but instead I’m just going to acknowledge that it was a holiday and indulged a bit. But a couple of days isn’t going to completely derail the last four weeks. This time of the year can be really tough when it comes to my relationship with food, but I’m trying to give myself some grace.

Fic updates:

I got a really fun ask about how the Triple Frontier boys would celebrate Thanksgiving. It was fun to think about the guys and yes, eventually we will get to Thanksgiving in Delta Landscaping.

I’ve gotten a couple of comments and messages about Working Title and Delta Landscaping and I promise I’m working on both (I think about them both at least once daily). I have a couple of PTO days in the next couple of weeks and I’m planning on dedicating some time to both so hopefully, I can get ahead and publish a bit more frequently.

Ok, I think that’s it for this week. I hope you have a great one. Drink water, get some sleep, and have some thots.

Masterlist

Working Title (Dieter, series, ongoing) | AO3

Delta Landscaping (Triple Frontier, series, ongoing) | AO3

Turbulence (Frankie, one-shot) | AO3

Are You on Mute? (Benny Miller, one-shot) | AO3

Are You on Mute? Part Two

#rhoorl week in review #rhoorl fic rec #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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panelshowsource · 5 months

Text

alex talked about that recently in this interview! [rubs hands together like a mischievous little shrimp] i hope we see it one day heh

hehehe it was a fun task! we've NEVER seen alex play such a character during a task like that — he's received cuddles and made demands and eaten meals, but this was next level Alex Acting — so that was really fun!

lucy talking incessantly about alex's legs but mans also got his long sparkly toes

i think people are too quick to call this or that iconic, but ngl the second i saw this final image...it's practically a horror movie poster...PERFECT

can you imagine greg davies being your drama teacher and then he quits to become a comedian and the next day you see him on tv as Massive Greg hand feeding a man with no teeth who is pretending to be a tortoise

honestly if that's the one that haunts you i'd say you got off pretty easy, i scrub my eyes with concrete mix every night to try and forget ass sandwich and yet... but hey at least when he hurt his hand he finally had an excuse for that stupid bandage he wears hahaha

she was being so sincere and he was Such A Little Shit 😭

you know what i was binging some simon stuff as well, since it was his birthday, and ran across this again after all these years!

aw anon i'm so glad ♡

moooost of my fave episodes are like ~2005–2015ish? probably the nostalgia!

21.01 with jess hynes bc she is an icon to me

21.05 love seeing simon and miquita together

21.07 with martin freeman

22.02 with stephen fucking fry YES

22.04 was crazy like conchords-era rhys darby was there (i LOVED flight of the conchords lmao) and then johnny vegas and danny dyer next to each other? what a lineup

22.12 with josh groban, omid, martin freeman, heston is an ALL-TIME CLASSIC

i LOVE the guest-hosted episodes with martin freeman, rhod gilbert, frankie boyle (especially 24.12 with miles jupp and professor green), jack dee, alex horne, kathy burke, and johnny vegas

23.12 doctor who special HANDS DOWN

24.02 it's hilarious how respectable catherine tate is offset by how ridiculous catherine tate is

25.06 when greg hosted with frankie boyle, h was there just being h, holly walsh angel, it was a riot

john barrowman is also extremely iconic on buzzcocks, probably most so on 19.05 but also when he hosted 25.12

there are tons of older episodes from the lamarr era that i love — bob mortimer is so funny on this series especially on sean's team, 12.05 when jimmy and claudia were with phill, fun to see ian dury on 5.01, and so on — but these above are some of my personal all-time faves!

aw i really appreciate the rec! first i would like to say i looked it up on youtube and stumbled across the american version and holy shit the dude who hosted brainsurge on nickelodeon is hosting that and WOW my brain would have died never having remembered he existed if i hadn't seen him just now — so that was very weird. ANYWAYS i'll check it out!

imo it didn't start with ben miller...rob is always like this... sometimes when the pod episodes are shorter (less than 10min? does he do that anymore), you can tell some of the bullshit is edited around, but now that they're longer-form conversations he is dominating every episode. i'm certainly no rob hater, but it's really unsurprising to me because facts are facts — rob is self-involved, extremely concerned about being seen and being heard, incredibly pouty if not outrightly bitter when he's not recognised, when fame/success doesn't chase him, when he's getting less from life than he believes he deserves. there are aspects of rob in the trip that aren't far from reality, if you see what i mean. rob is, honestly, quite showbiz. don't get me wrong, he's funny, affable, talented, we love him! but he's not a stellar podcast host because he doesn't have the attention span to let someone else have a moment. have a story. put something on the table. there are definitely times i give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he's trying to form a connection by sharing a related experience/feeling/whatever, but other times he's just being self-involved, pivoting the convo, and it is what it is. it's too bad when we don't always get lengthy, insightful content for someone we love — like miles, let's say — and when we finally do rob isn't doing his part; i felt that way about the dara episode. i don't think rob means any malice, it's just how he is...+ a dash of being a middle-aged white man in showbiz...

i got this one yesterday...

...and i'm going to dedicate it to you<3

and frankly sign me up for the woz/vcm experience i am happy to be a little tomato in that flapjack sandwich

you guys are really sweet, it makes me smile ♡ i don't know why some days the trolling can really get to you and other days you forget it in a couple blinks... i feel like i've been having some bad days. last week i saw something on my own dash with thousands of notes outright mocking me and i haven't really recovered from the uncomfortableness/just general hurt feelings. i want be better about letting those things go, but i also think a holiday break will do me good. anyways, thank you for always enjoying the blog and taking the time to be so kind ♡

—————

WATCH LINKS MASTERPOST / FAQ / TAGS / ASK

#a #straykind #long post

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presidentofthelipglossclub · 5 months

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i think if cody and frankie get married cody would be a well liked member of the rescue team who people like to stop and chat with and frankie would be a renowned genius scientist with like twelve phDs and a bunch of masters and bachelors degrees who also did rescue training and is a part time member, who everybody thinks is the coolest person ever. when they're talked about people always refer to them as "dr dr dr dr dr dr dr dr dr professor greene and her nice husband cody." they both find this hilarious and encourage it. also when tourists come to griffin rock from the outside world and try pulling some sexist/racist shit towards frankie cody immediately goes "hey don't talk about our head of weapons design that way" and frankie then goes "i'm also the head of---" and starts listing all her various careers and degrees. then the tourists get bullied relentlessly by the other citizens.

#tfrb #rescue bots #transformers rescue bots #tfrb cody #cody burns #tfrb frankie #frankie greene #francine greene #transformers

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next-autopsy · 5 months

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A/N: Well, hi there! Don't hate me for this chapter, I was going to have the girls enjoy a nice night out and then I started writing and this came out so....... sorry x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: some swearing, drinking, very very brief mention of blood/death (nothing major), lieb is a dick for no reason … thats all i think?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter eighteen: A Night to Remember

Choosing Johnny as her sparring partner had been a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, he was helping her learn properly. Birdie was finally able to defend and attack against someone who was fully willing to brawl her correctly.

On the other hand, he wasn’t holding back. At all. And, by God, he had a strong swing.

Bernadette had asked for this and she knew it would be beneficial in the long run, but each hit Johnny landed maybe her regret pushing for extra lessons.

The instructor had given them small breaks for water during their hour-long lesson and when it was over, demanded they all stretch so their muscles wouldn’t ache too badly the next day. The seven women chatted while doing so, and the topic of weekend passes came up.

The entire group had not yet been out drinking together, two or three maybe but not all seven, so when they figured out this weekend would be the first they all held a pass, excitement spread.

Johnny shook his head playfully at the women as they yapped about which bar to visit on the rare occasion. He smiled hearing Bernadette mention introducing her friends, she was enlivened by the thought of the women she had come to call sisters meeting the men she thought of as brothers. The grin on her face was unlike any other and Johnny’s heart warmed thinking of the young lady who had wiggled her way into the center of Easy company and cemented bonds with a large portion of the guys.

She was Easy’s little sister.

The image of her splashed with scarlet red blood and lifeless eyes flashed into his mind and Martin involuntarily shivered. It was like the first time he even thought of the southern girl's death, like it wasn’t a possibility before now. If anything happened to her, Easy might just fall apart. Johnny began praying for her every night after that vision of her demise.

—-----------------------------------------------

“I’m not going.”

“What? You gotta! It won’t be the same without you.” Blythe begged, quite literally on her knees. Francesca was attempting to weasel her way out of the joyfully dubbed ‘girl’s night’ as they were getting ready. Charlotte passed the red lipstick along to the next girl waiting for the prized makeup, while Birdie sat on the floor in front of her cot and held still as Connie styled her hair, she had convinced Birdie to let her curl it down and leave it flowy.

“Tell her, Birdie!” Blythe whined to the Corporal, Lucy rolled her eyes at the redhead while fixing her tie. The women were in their dress green and most had opted for the skirt and kitten heeled option for the night out. Only Lucy and Francesca wore the trousers and boots.

“Yeah, she actually listens to you.” Charlotte added, passing Birdie her lit smoke and the southern girl was still unable to move much. Bernadette gave the Italian woman a pleading look, the best puppy dog eyes she could muster, “Please?” And Frankie folded. Rolling her eyes she grabbed her jacket and sighed, “Fine.”

“Yay! This is going to be so fun!” The chatty redhead jumped up and down, excited to have the full team going out.

After putting on final touches and ensuring all seven were ready and weren’t forgetting anything, the group left their barracks.

Five out of seven ladies immediately pulled out smokes and lit them up to combat the chill of the evening air. Only sweet young Connie and the brunette Betty, who don’t partake in puffing cigarettes, were left out of exhaling smoke clouds. Instead the duo led the group, followed by Lucy and Blythe, arm in arm then Birdie and Charlotte either side of Francesca, blocking her in so she couldn't sneak off and return to the barracks.

The group of girls had to split up into two cabs, luckily a whole row of drivers were lined up, waiting to make money off of soldiers needing rides to the nearest bar. Toye had told Birdie which bar he and most of Easy company were planning on visiting that night and she had convinced the girls to spend their time there: The Black Rose, it was called.

Before entering the drinking establishment, they could hear the rowdy men inside who had apparently started off the night with a drinking competition. Birdie suggested a few of them stay sober to look out for the ladies who would be drinking and urged the women to all leave together around midnight. All the girls agreed, Connie opted not to drink as she was still eighteen, by that logic Birdie and Blythe, who were nineteen and twenty respectively, volunteered to stay sober too.

A smoky haze filled the bar, Birdie couldn’t hear herself think, that's how loud the men were hollering. The group of women took a moment to look around before Lucy took everyone's drink order before linking arms with Blythe and skipping off to the bar.

Meanwhile, Birdie had spotted Toye and waved over at him. He had secured a table which had a few empty seats, so Bernadette ushered her girls over his way.

“You look gorgeous, Birdie.” Toye told her, pulling her in for a hug. He noticed the stares her dolled up look was getting and decided he was on guard tonight.

“Little Bird!” Guarnere slurred, his drunkenness already rearing its head, “You gonna introduce me to these… beautiful ladies?” Bill slung his arm around Bernadette's shoulders, he winked in their general direction, earning scoffs and rolled eyes. Birdie cringed, it was like watching a sibling flirt and embarrass himself, he wasn’t even good at it, but that could be the alcohol.

“Calm down, Syphilis. They ain’t interested.” She twisted his arm off of her and let it drop down.

“Ah, so this is your diseased friend?” Charlotte smirked, turning to Connie who giggled at the Able company woman’s comment. Bill did not look impressed, he glared at Birdie and mouthed a ‘what the fuck?’ her way. She only grinned at the Italian man and began proper introductions.

The men at this table were some of her closest friends, of course Bill and Toye were the first she announced, followed by the trio who could not be separated; Malarkey, Skip and Alex. Sitting partially behind them was Bull, Johnny and Lipton who gave polite smiles and head nods as Birdie mentioned the men by name.

Lucy and Blythe joined them with a tray of drinks, the pair handed them to their fellow woman and Birdie briefly repeated the introductions for the two who missed it.

“Aaaand which one has Herpes?” Lucy leered, hoping to pull a reaction from the man in question. It worked, of course, Bill huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Birdie! Stop telling everyone I have diseases!”

—----------

It truly was a night to remember.

Even without drinking, Birdie enjoyed having her ladies out and in such a carefree environment. She dragged the women to the dancefloor early on and began teaching them how to line dance, Blythe, Betty and Connie picked it up quickly while Charlotte and Lucy struggled to keep up with the quick steps. Francecsca refused to try and watched from her table, laughing when Charlotte and Lucy returned to her in defeat. Soon the men wanted in on the merriment and took turns begging the women to dance with them and sung their praises afterwards.

Frankie sat in the corner smoking and observing for the majority of the night, Toye had joined her and the two got on surprisingly well, sitting in silence and sharing smokes. That's when George Luz found them and started throwing jokes left and right, trying to impress the moody pair. Rossi saw right through the jokesters mask, she recognised his heart shaped eyes and knew exactly where they were aimed.

Charlotte drank a surprising amount; Skip, Alex and Don had challenged her to a drinking contest and pretty soon after losing Birdie had to cut off her supply but she had bribed someone to bring her another gin and tonic within seconds of being banned from the bar. The southern woman assigned Betty to watch the highly intoxicated lady until they were prepared to leave.

Lucy and Blythe disappeared to the bathroom together every five minutes, which raised Birdie's eyebrows. How had she missed that? And Connie was being spun around on the dancefloor from partner to partner as she hadn’t the heart to tell the men she’d had enough.

Bernadette looked around at her girls, it was getting late and probably time to saunter home. Charlotte was near passed out and Connie was starting to look tired. She made the executive decision to call it a night, making her way to Frankie to share her revelation.

Frankie wholeheartedly agreed, feeling like a third wheel as the more Toye had drunk, the more he returned Luz’s looks. It was subtle, not many would notice the shared glances or how each man checked the other out while they thought no one was watching.

Francesca noticed. The whole night, she saw it all.

Birdie rounded up the women, bringing them to the table Frankie was stationed at, her job was to keep them there and not let them wander off.

Lucy and Blythe were in giggle fits about something that probably wasn’t that funny and Betty was trying to keep Charlotte awake but she wasn’t doing great, the Able company woman slumped over on the table top ungracefully.

Birdie had to physically tear Connie away from the line of men waiting to dance with the blonde, she told the girls she had to run to the bathroom quickly and then they were leaving. No more drinks, no more dancing. Two minutes maximum. And she scurried off to the back of the establishment where a corridor led off to the restrooms.

—--------

“Just admit you’re interested in her, man.” Tipper shrugged casually at his friend. Joe only scoffed and shook his head, as if the man had suggested something completely absurd.

“I mean, it’s kinda obvious…” Ed trailed off, he was winding his buddy up and he knew it. The pair had stepped aside from the noise of the crowds in attempts for a reprieve, but the second Edward had brought up the girl from Mississippi, Liebgott stiffened.

“I think you should tell her-”

“I‘m not interested in her.” Joe cut off Tip’s words, his hands were curled up into fists even though he would never dream of hitting his friend, it was more like a stress relief.

Joe’s back was to a corridor, while Tipper half faced it as he stood beside his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Ed saw the shadows in the semi lit corridor move. Joe began speaking again at the same time Ed recognised the shady figure but by then it was too late to tell him to shut his mouth.

“Bernadette Coldwell is a stuck up princess. My type ain’t arrogant, conceited bitches who don’t know when to shut up.” Liebgott’s voice was venomous, he glared at Ed for a moment before noticing his stance. Tip was uncomfortable, his face was scrunched up as he half cringed, half winced and that’s when Joe noticed his eyes flick to something behind him. Lieb’s face dropped, he didn't want to turn around, somehow he knew what he would see if he looked behind him and it gave him swirls in his chest.

Not even two seconds later and Joe felt the unmistakable shove of his shoulder, then he was watching Bernadette stomp past him, her tawny brown hair bouncing with every step. He only saw her face for a split second but the look she carried gave him instant regret, the miserable feeling pooled in his stomach and ached in his chest. He hadn’t meant those harsh words, he didn’t actually think she was conceited or arrogant but he said them and she had heard them.

Joe stepped out after her, following her through the crowd. He called out her name once, then twice but she kept trudging away from him.

Birdie was relieved when she found familiar faces. She just wanted to leave, she didn’t know how long Liebgott was standing there talking shit about her but the part she had heard was enough to cut the southern girl deep. She was holding it together for now, but she knew the second someone tried to comfort her, the emotional wall would break and she might cry, hence the desperate need to depart.

“Y’all ready to go?” Birdie plastered a smile onto her face, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice or maybe they would and help her get out of the bar, pronto. Betty and Connie positioned themselves either side of Charlotte and hoisted her up while Lucy and Blythe linked arms, preparing to leave.

“What happened?” Frankie walked over to Bernadette, catching sight of the dejected look on her friend's face. The Italian jumped into protection mode, no one gets to give Birdie trouble and get away with it, not while she was around.

“Nothing. Let's go.” She was obviously hiding something and Francesca wouldn’t let it go that easy. If she didn’t tell her now they would talk about it when they got back to their barracks.

“Someone upset you? Tell me the truth, I can tell when you lie.”

“I’m fine, can we just go, please?” Bernadette’s shoulders sagged, all she needed in this moment was to get out of the suffocating crowd and envelope herself in peace and quiet so she could sulk at whim.

“Birdie!” Liebgott caught up with her, pushing his way through the throng of people. Francesca noted the way Birdie’s face changed, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning down. The overprotective Italian looked at the man making his way toward them, she recognised him as the guy who dropped Birdie off late one night and made their entire interaction uncomfortable. Frankie had thought maybe the two were friends, but now she knew they weren’t.

“He upset you?” Rossi whispered to the forlorn woman, “You want me to stab him?” From anyone else that comment could be considered a joke, but Frankie was serious. She subtly brought out her hidden weapon, a blade she always kept on her person, she meant business and wanted Birdie to know the lengths she would go for their friendship.

“No, it’s- uh Rossi…?” Bernadette's gaze switched from her friend's face, to her now occupied hand, “What is that?”

“Knife.” Simple.

“Wha- Why do you have a knife?” She was beginning to panic, was she going to have to break up a fight in a moment? Birdie was not in the mood for this.

“Bar fights.” She offered little explanation other than that.

“What the- Put it away.” The southerner pleaded, earning a stern look from Rossi. But she listened and returned the knife to its original hiding spot.

“Birdie, just let me explain-” Joe had gotten close enough to the girl that he could reach out and touch her. His hand held onto her forearm and tugged her ever so slightly closer to him, so they were now face to face, staring at each other.

“Don’t you think you’ve said enough?” She didn’t want his explanation, not now while her emotions were running high. Bernadette looked into Joe’s eyes and she could feel tears filling her own. She tried her hardest to hold it back, put on a straight face but her bottom lip wobbled and her brows scrunched up.

Joe watched the emotions run across her features, he couldn’t pull his focus from her eyes. They glistened with watery tears, round and wide, making him forget where they were, surrounded by people. He wanted to comfort her, wipe those tears away, kiss her and make it all better.

Then he remembered why she was about to cry in the first place, he had done that. He had hurt her with his horrid words so much that she was boarderline sobbing. Now all he could do was leave her to retreat and lick her wound in private. His hand dropped from where he gripped onto her.

“...yeah…” He had said enough.

A/N: Ahhh! The angst! Joe why would you say that?!

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter nineteen

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #joe liebgott #made of glass #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #ed tipper #johnny martin #joe toye #bill guarnere #made of glass chapter eighteen #next autopsy

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annabelle-creart · 5 days

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More (head)canon for the Life of Rescue Bots AU:

Who and how they are?

Robots - Main Team

Heatwave

Position: Leader.

Proffesion: Firefighter.

Human age equivalent: 37 years old.

Pronouns: he/him.

Main hand: Left-handed.

Psychiatric disorder: General anxiety and PTSD.

Adittions to current design: Burn scars on both hands (one in all the back right hand, a little one in right palm), left knee and right 'ear'.

Main treats:

Can't see people in the eyes while lying.

Puts his left hand in the back of his neck when is thoughtful or ashamed.

laughs like 'hehehe' or 'hehe' but in a very deep voice so it sounds like a ghost

Taste: homoromantic, asexual

Living family: Summer (younger brother), Boulder (love partner), Salvage, Blurr and Sissi (adoptive children and aprentices), Chase and Blades (best friends/not really younger siblings), Kade (work partner), Cody (adoptive child but don't admit it)

Chase

Position: Shield.

Profesion: Police bot.

Human age equivalent: 35 years old.

Pronouns: Any pronuons, especially he/him.

Main hand: Both.

Psychiatric disorder: Autism.

Additions to current design: Moving fins on his 'ears', tiny scar like a crack on his shoulder near neck (it's too little to see it normally).

Main Treats:

T-rex hands.

Don't know how to smile properly.

Humming opera while distract.

Look into your soul (he's just on his own mind).

Taste: biromantic, asexual

Living family: Stardust ('grand mother'), Quickshadow (love partner), Heatwave, Boulder and Blades (teammates and best friends), Blurr (favorite aprentice), Salvage and Sissi (aprentices), Chief Burns (best friend/father figure/work partner).

Boulder

Position: Navigator.

Proffesion: Engineer.

Human age equivalent: 43 years old.

Pronouns: He/they/she, mainly they.

Main hand: Right-hand.

Psychiatric disorder: Autism and ADHD, panic attacks (not enough to be a panic disorder, treated).

Additions to current design: A scar in his mouth.

Main Treats:

Enlace fingers when nervous.

Big eyes that stare at your soul (really, they likes to analize peoples facial expressions).

Short but loud screams everytime he gets scared or surprised, literally, every time.

Taste: homoromantic, asexual

Living family: Fortress (tutor/mom), Daydream (younger sister), Gear (tutor/dad), Heatwave (love partner), Blades and Chase (best friends), Sissi and Salvage (favorite aprentices but don't admit it), Blurr (aprentice), Graham (buddy/work partner), Lazari, Dirty green and Commander (favorite plants in their garden but don't admit it either).

Blades

Position: Medic.

Profesion: Air rescue.

Human age equivalent: 26 years old.

Pronouns: He/she.

Main hand: Both.

Psychiatric disorder: ADHD.

Additions to current design: A crack scar below his right knee, it doesn't hurt as before but itch sometimes

Main Treats:

Creak his fingers.

Get stuck when speaking.

Move his hands from up to down very fast when gets excited

Taste: panromantic, asexual

Living family: Skyfell (cousin), Windblade (friend of the family), Bluey (cousin), KnockOut (ex), Chase (best friend and cousin but Chase doesn't know), Heatwave and Boulder (best friends/like older siblings), Dani (BEST FRIEND FOREVER), Cody (little pal), Salvage, Sissi and Blurr (aprentices/like younger siblings)

Humans - Main Team

Chief Charlie Burns

Position: Father.

Profesion: Police chief.

Age: 45-60 years old.

Pronouns: He/him.

Main hand: Right-hand.

Psychiatric disorder: Depression (treated)

Additions to current design: His left arm was damaged in duty, so he has a large scar all over the arm.

Main Treats:

Dad jokes.

Move his mostauche to make fun of himself.

Squint.

Taste: straight

Living family: Woodrow (Brother), Kade, Dani, Graham, Cody (children), Chase (work partner/son figure), Blades, Heatwave and Boulder (work partners and friends), Beatrix (ex-wife), Sissi, Salvage, Blurr and Frankie (like nepwes and nieces), Ezra (best friend)

Kade Burns

Position: Older sibling.

Profesion: Firemen.

Age: 27 years old

Pronouns: He/him

Main hand: Right hand

Psychiatric disorder: none

Additions to current design: he has a little scar on his forehead he made himself trying to fight with someone when he was little

Main Treats:

'PFF-HAHAHAHA' kind of laugh.

'nah' everytime he is concerned

Play with Heatwave through being mean

Taste: straight

Living family: Charlie (father), Beatrix (mother), Dani, Graham and Cody (siblings), Woodrow (uncle), Hayley (girlfriend), Heatwave (work partner/best friend/best hater), Blades, Boulder, Chase, Salvage, Sissi, Blurr, Quickshadow, Hightide, Ezra and Frankie (family friends)

Danielle 'Dani' Burns

Position: second child

Profesion: pilot

Age: 25 years old

Pronouns: she/her

Main hand: both hands

Psychiatric disorder: none

Additions to current design: she's not that skinny, she was really hyperactive as a child so she is covered in mini scars that go away with the time, but still have some on her knee

Main Treats:

Singing while cooking.

Bite the pencil.

Stay silent so she can listen everything it's happening in the firehouse (she actually knew Heatwave and Boulder loved each other before they realized that)

Taste: bisexual

Living family: Charlie (father), Beatrix (mother), Kade, Graham and Cody (siblings), Woodrow (uncle), Taylor (boyfriend), Blades (work partner/BESTIE), Heatwave, Boulder, Chase, Salvage, Sissi, Blurr, Quickshadow, Hightide (work partners/casual friends), Ezra and Frankie (family friends)

Graham Burns:

Position: third kid

Profesion: civil engineer

Age: 23 years old

Pronouns: he/him

Main hand: right hand

Psychiatric disorder: none

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

Talk fast.

Don't talk in public.

Blush easily (by ashamed and by exercise)

Taste: panromantic, demisexual

Living family: Charlie (father), Beatrix (mother), Kade, Dani and Cody (siblings), Woodrow (uncle), Boulder (work partner/buddy), Blades, Heatwave, Chase (work partners), Salvage, Sissi (science friends/nephew and niece), Quickshadow, Hightide, Ezra and Frankie (family friends)

Robots - Aprentices and secundary

Hightide

Position: professor, work partner

Profesion: marine

Human age equivalent: 50-60 years old

Pronouns: he/him

Main hand: both

Psychiatric disorder: PTSD and anxiety

Additions to current design: scars, lots of scars that looks like cracks

Main Treats:

Likes to tell stories.

Grumpy ol' man

He's not a dad, he is the dad's best friend who don't have kids and when talk to him understand why

Taste: he would never tell you (homoromantic asexual)

Living family: none, Optimus Prime is just a friend and leader, the team is not his family.

Salvage

Position: aprentice, second engineer

Profesion: he wouldn't know how to tell you

Human age equivalent: 18 years old

Pronouns: he/they

Main hand: both

Psychiatric disorder: emotional dependence (working on that)

Additions to current design: a little scar on his right cheek

Main Treats:

Acts like a granpa, even Blurr and Sissi laugh about that.

Best hugs in town. Silent... too much maybe

Taste: none, completely aroace

Living family: all the team is his family, even Hightide, he had no one back at Velocitron except Blurr

Blurr

Position: aprentice, a little of everything.

Profesion: a little of everything, race car, ambulance, the strong arm

Human age equivalent: 17 years old

Pronuouns: she/he (prefers femenine pronouns)

Main hand: right hand

Psychiatric disorder: ADHD and corporal dysphoria

Additions to current design: she can convert in an ambulance too

Main Treats:

Swear too much.

Face palm.

'look at me!' To impress, usually goes wrong

Taste: biromantic asexual

Living family: don't admit it but the entire firehouse, except Hightide, he's an asshole, (and Chase is like her dad), the only family she had a Velocitron was Salvage

Sissi

Position: aprentice

Profesion: mechanic and medic

Human age equivalent: 13 years old

Pronouns: she/her

Main hand: both

Psychiatric disorder: ADHD, PTSD and disordered attachment (working on all of that)

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

Imitate voices perfectly to prank others.

Always seeking Heatwave's attention just because Boulder loves him (working on that too).

Steals with Blades Dani's clothes so Sissi can use them

Taste: asexual, the rest is still for exploration

Living family: Optimus, Megatron, Elita, Bumblebee, Dorothea, Alex, Heatwave and Boulder (parents), Soundwave, Starscream, Arachnid, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Arcee, Blades, Salvage, Blurr, the Malto bots and kids (siblings), Ultra Magnus, Chase, Hightide and Quickshadow (uncles and auntie), the Burnses and Greenes (both parents and siblings), her family was bigger but the rest were completely massacrated, abused and used till their sparks went away

Quickshadow

Position: ??

Profesion: agent

Human age equivalent: 30 years old

Pronouns: she/her

Main hand: both

Psychiatric disorder: none

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

Takes everything seriously but not personal.

Lay on Chase's shoulder to disturb him (don't worry, Chase likes it, she knows that works).

Good space inteligence, looks at every corner before be sure about it's secure

Taste: biromantic asexual

Living family: none... her brother maybe but don't even know his state... the Burnses and the bots are quite adorable and comforting

Humans - secundaries

Cody Burns

Position: younger kid

Profesion: student, sometimes the cabin kid, sometimes a superhero

Age: 13 years old

Pronouns: he/they

Main hand: right

Psychiatric disorder: none

Additions to current design: scar at his left leg from falling off a tree at 9 years old

Taste: vainilla cake and caramel (in the future discovers he is biromantic asexual, he just didn't understand the question)

Main Treats:

'noble'

Things usually fall over him.

* any of the bots * "look at this!" Shows them the most weird but incredible new trick he just learned.

Living family: all the firestation, or maybe all Griffin Rock, or maybe even the bots and family friends who live out there, has a lot of friends the kid, is a marshmelow

Francine 'Frankie' Elma Green

Position: ??

Profesion: student, laboratory assintent

Age: 13 years old

Pronouns: she/her

Main hand: right-handed

Psychiatric disorder: none

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

'daddy did it' she's very proud of him.

Scientific languages like no one.

Always thinking in new ideas, for sale or for innovation

Living family: Ezra (daddy), both grandmas and one grandpa on Ezra's side, Cody (best friend), the rest of the firehouse (friends)

Ezra Green

Position: Griffin Rock Science Head

Profesion: scientist

Age: 40-60 years

Pronouns: he/him

Main hand: left-hand

Psychiatric disorder: AuDHD(Autism and ADHD)

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

'I have an idea' if it goes well or wrong depends on the Griffin Rock mood.

Yell at himself when something don't work, no even for bad, is his passion.

Talk too much, can't talk about the tree without talking without why the father of the person who plant it was single (not exactly but you understand the metaphor)

Living family: both parents and siblings, Frankie (daughter), Charlie (best childhood and actual friend), the firehouse (family's friends)

Priscilla Pynch:

Position: daughter of a very rich buissnesswoman

Profesion: student

Age: 14 years old

Pronouns: she/her

Main hand: right-hand

Psychiatric disorder: being egotistical count as a narcissist or she's just not to empathetich?

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

'but- mom!'

Richie kid with 0 real love and attention

Living family: Madeline (mother), who knows else, that kid is not really into talk about her life except if it's about last tendencies

Villians

Dr. Thadeus Morroco

Position: (an idiot-) ??

Profesion: scientist, time-traveler, narrator sometimes

Age: depends, he take his magic bath recently?

Pronouns: he/him

Main hand: both

Psychiatric disorder: same that with Priscilla, I'm not sure

Additions to current design: none (that Wolverine hairstyle is perfect-)

Main Treats:

He's a villian but don't have a diabolical laugh (what a pity).

Likes science... only if it benefits him.

He knew Elma, and probably thinks that Frankie is just as irritaiting as her.

Living family: travel-time partners count?

Madeline Pynch

Position: CEO

Profesion: (a great-) buissness woman

Age: 40-50 years old

Pronouns: she/her

Main hand: left-hand

Psychiatric disorder: narcissist

Additions to current design: none

Main Treats:

Always seeking new techs.

Gold is her passion.

'not now, sweetie, mommy is cyberbullyng the mayor' is her meme version

Living family: Priscilla (daughter) is the only one she cares (if she cares)

-------------------------

Sorry if is too much but I wanted to mantain EVERYTHING in the same post.

That will be my canon from now on

Se you later😎✌️

#for you #oc artwork #magic #transformers #for your page #rescue bots #Life Of Rescue Bots Au

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workingforitallthetime · 1 year

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Every UMich Monday question, 2022-23

As is tradition, I have rewatched every single Monday question in a row, and I now present to you a complete list. The most interesting recurring themes this year were sleepy Mackie, Gavin being obsessed with Jaybone, Frankie having a crush on Brendan, and everyone agreeing that Seamus is a total weirdo. Instead of a full ranking this year, I've sorted them into tiers. Bonus links to non-Monday question but still gold star content appear at the end.

Tier I: Every single second an absolute delight

December 7, 2022 If you could make it rain anything, what would it be? This contains the single flirtiest interaction I have ever seen in a Monday question video, and I say this as a survivor of the Thomas Bordeleau era. It’s a crime against humanity that the video cuts just as Rutger starts to loom over Gavin after drawling suggestively about how he has a sweet tooth. Also features Luca sweetly encouraging Truss.

November 15, 2022 Who has the best bromance on the team? BEST QUESTION and Jaybone kicks it off right: “Gotta be the Fantilli brothers for sure.” Other highlights include Luke insisting that he and Duker have the best bromance despite great skepticism from his teammates (Luca: “I mean you got in a fight today.” Luke: “Ya, out of love.”) and Johnny and Luca’s joint announcement of their engagement bromance, immediately endorsed by everyone else on the team.

November 22, 2022 If you had to describe yourself or a teammate using just Thanksgiving foods, what would you say? This is an all-timer. It starts with a series of teammates describing Moyle as the thickest Thanksgiving dishes possible, and then it builds to Johnny describing Seamus as pudding (presumably because he’s soft and sweet) and then looking longingly at Luca while telling him he’s the main dish. Also an unknown staffer chips in with a very important Seamus characterization: “Seamus Casey is green bean casserole. It’s a little different, it’s okay. But you only want it once a year.”

November 2, 2022 If you were sailing around the world, what would you name your boat? Hello, 911? I’m calling to report a murder. It was Jacob Truscott in the locker room with the “I would do Granger. Because I miss my roommates Thomas and Matty so it would remind me of them.” This one also features Adam’s dumb face goggling at Rutger’s incredibly dumb answer. And we also learned that Jaybone calls Gavin “Scooter.”

April 4, 2023 Who’s the best teammate to room with on the road? They ended the season on a high note by revealing everybody's road roommates, with a heavy dose of characterization. Luke praising Truss, and then Truss getting snarky as soon as Luke turns his back. Last year’s Brendan/Dylan and Matty/Mackie roommate combos, a parent trap if ever I heard of one. Jaybone feeding Seamus chicken and rice and putting him to bed on time. Nolan and Gavin ordering Chik-Fil-A and clearly getting up to no good.

Tier II -- Screaming out loud

February 14, 2023 Who makes the best wingman? RICH with characterization. Self-deprecating Seamus vs. self-confident Gavin! (Particularly when contrasted with multiple teammates identifying Seamus as the best wingman and Adam emphatically declaring that Gavin’s the worst wingman even though literally nobody asked.) Luca and Johnny being absolutely besotted with each other, and Rutger manhandling them.

January 17, 2023 Who on the team takes the longest to get ready? Rutger trying to Facetime the Fantillis while they’re taking forever to do their hair is PURE GOLD. Also an early reference to Gavin getting the dance moves going.

March 8, 2023 What’s your favorite memory from the season, so far? Adam’s favorite memory was watching Luca score his first goal.

October 11, 2022 If you could have any zoo animal as a pet, what would it be? Wherein we learned that Phil and Keato adopted ducks last spring. “Shoutout to Moose, Chip, Waddle, Bandit, we miss you.” (Connor Earegood, you still owe us the details. We will not forget.)

October 19, 2022 If you could swap lives with a teammate for a day, who would it be and why? The origin of so many recurring motifs! Seamus being perpetually lost, Mackie lying around in bed all day, smarty Holtzy, and everybody wants to know what’s going in Mark Estapa’s head. Seamus: “I’d probably be Luca. He has a really safe moped. It’s really nice. I’d like to drive around on it.”

February 7, 2023 What is your favorite and most often used emoji? A sleeper hit, primarily due to Holtzy and Adam’s recreations of the facepalm emoji and the silly face emoji, respectively. And Eric’s dig about how Mackie would be the sleepy emoji. Gavin picking the upside down smiley face feels right, too.

Tier III -- Some classic moments

March 18, 2023 If you could fill the B1G Cup with anything, what would it be? Jacob Truscott’s finest Monday question appearance: Frenchifying Philippe LaPointe’s name and hassling Luca about ice cream flavors!

November 30, 2022 Who on the team would you NOT let tape your stick? A very important entry in Disaster Seamus canon. Doesn’t ever tape his stick. Doesn’t know how.

January 3, 2023 What’s on your 2023 bucket list? Yet another reference to Seamus being a liability on a moped. Luca wants to take a trip with the boys after the season. Steve wants to go back to back B1G champions (CHECK!) It’s a light week because the squad is off at WJC, so “Mine’s to give Dylan Duke a big ol’ hug when he gets back,” says Mackie.

September 20, 2022 If you were a cartoon character, who would you be? Great answers top to bottom, but Adam going with Mike Wazowski because “I think he has a good heart” is the most intriguing. Gavin and Luca hugging it out is also important.

September 22, 2022 What would your walk-up song be? Gavin and Luca dancing away together is the highlight of this one. The mysterious Phil/Mark/Seamus pick of Hawaiian Rollercoaster Ride also intrigues.

January 12, 2023 Who would be your dream linemate? Features Luca uttering the supremely horny sentence: “My favorite D in the league right now is Quinn Hughes.” Also Moyle picking Blanks.

October 4, 2022 Who on the team would most likely survive a zombie apocalypse? Best line is from Luca: “Jacob Truscott, because he’s so cute the zombies would just want to hug him.” Seamus also points out that Mackie would survive because he’d sleep through it.

November 8, 2022 Which of your teammates would you want to narrate your life? Nolan Moyle “has a lot of stories about me,” hints Truss, darkly. TELL US MORE. Also Seamus carries two smoothies through the background. Who else did you get a smoothie for, Seamus?

Tier IV -- Merely good

March 15, 2023 Who on the team motivates you the most? Nothing too interesting except Frankie’s giant crush on Brendan Miles. Also a sweetheart answer by Luca about Adam, but that’s standard.

February 21, 2023 Give a compliment to a senior Adam with this bizarre story: “Keaton Pehrson brightens my morning every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He comes in and he explains to us the dreams that he had that night.” And Seamus brought jokes! “Moyle keeps his house really clean.” (And adds, “You have issues @nolanmoyle” in comments, no less.)

March 30, 2023 Who on the team would build the best sandcastle? Unexceptional except for Seamus’s heart eyes about Gavin

October 26, 2022 What was your worst Halloween costume? Nothing of note except Truss citing last year’s sophomore group costume as his worst.

December 14, 2022 If you could live in any holiday movie, what would it be? Luca: “The Grinch. Whoville looks like a sick time. Whoville looks like it’d be buzzing.”

January 24, 2023 Who would you want on your team in a snowball fight? Confirms many characterizations, not much new here. Always love a reference to Moyle taking things way too far, though.

January 30, 2023 Who on the team would make the best Bachelor? Largely uneventful. Frankie has a crush on Brendan.

Bonus content!

December 7, 2022 Skating on the Diag Gavin’s first big appearance! He burst onto the scene furiously negging Luca and Rutger.

December 19, 2023 Outtakes Featuring Luca and Johnny being clueless together

January 26, 2023 Michigan’s birthday Never forget Moyle’s shorts

February 1, 2023 A Day In The Life Of Luca Fantilli The greatest content ever produced.

February 12, 2023 Super Bowl predictions from your squad Glasses Rutger and Seamus in slut shorts

#luca really is the monday question MVP

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