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almostfoxglove · 4 months ago

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SIT BACK, BABY

written for @joelmillerisapunk's #PPCUBodyWorshipChallenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Frankie Morales x f!Reader BODY PART: Thighs | WORD COUNT: 4.1k CW: Smut (m!oral), pwp, drinking (not during smut), sorta sub!Frankie.

SUMMARY: You've got a crush on your neighbor across the hall and finally get the chance to show him you care.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Your alarm clock reads 2:02 A.M. when you stir from a sweat-stained dream.

Someone is breaking into your apartment.

Or sounds like they're trying to break in, at least. The awkward stabbing and metal scrape of disobedient picks and keys. A sudden fear cleaves through you, skull to stomach, and just like that you’re wide awake. Then you hear a familiar voice mutter, “Fucking please—”

And you sigh. You’re not in any danger.

Yellow light leaks into your apartment from the hall where you find your mountain of a neighbor slumped on his knees at your feet, one hand raised at the level of your lock, a silver key pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

He tilts his chin up, letting you glimpse beneath the brim of his navy ball cap the glassiness of his warm eyes, the flush of his cheeks. His lips part, bewildered or lost. The man looks hopelessly drunk.

“Haanng on,” Frankie grins, squinting up at you. “You’re in my apartment?”

He drops his hand and his apartment key slips from his grasp onto the floor, unnoticed by him. You’ve lived across the hall from him for two years, steadfast in your belief that fucking anyone who lives in your building—or frankly, within a three block radius—is a hideous mistake. Has that made your hopeless crush on him any less… crushing?

Absolutely fucking not.

Now, seeing Frankie on his knees is doing something terrible to your brain. Giving it all sorts of ideas. You blame his jeans, the brawn of his thighs—how badly you’d like to sink your teeth into them surprises you.

“My apartment, actually,” you correct, lifting one finger to point over his shoulder, across the hall. Frankie turns and, sure enough, recognizes his apartment number gleaming on the door.

“Shit,” he says. You make a point of staring him dead in the eye even when you’d usually look away, just so you don’t look at his legs. The spread of his knees on the carpeted floor.

Doe-eyed, Frankie blinks up at you—helpless as a pup—as need stirs in your stomach. The urge to hold him. To take care of him for a while.

“I’m a lil’ drunk,” he admits in a whisper, like it’s a secret, like you wouldn’t have known.

Scoffing, you shake your head. “You don’t say.”

He buries his face in his palms and groans quietly, embarrassed. “Hermosa,” he muffles, making your mouth go dry. When his hands drop, his gaze lands at your feet, rising slowly to your legs—he turns, you think, the color of a berry. Something that bursts red against your fingertips in summer.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Frankie says plainly, his eyebrows high on his head.

Shit.

You cross your arms over your chest as if that’ll hide your legs, bare beneath the t-shirt you sleep in. You can’t remember what underwear you have on, if it’s a cute pair or a laundry day pair, and pray quietly that he can’t glimpse them from where he’s sitting, though he probably can. What’s worse, though, is that you can tell Frankie’s not trying to peek. He’s looking you in the eye—respectful, it seems, even on the verge of a blackout.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you say, trying not to blush. “Y’woke me up.”

Poor, drunk Frankie’s face just folds. Devastated to have bothered you—he huffs softly, lets his eyes stutter closed, dark lashes shivering on his cheeks. It really isn’t fair, how cute he is like this. Grown, drunk men are idiots. Nuisances, at best. And yet here he is—this broad mass of a man, solid in his calm, easy way—managing to be both out of his mind and entirely endearing at the same time. It’s almost annoying, how not annoyed you are to be disturbed from a fit of slumber. You’re sort of glad.

“M’sorry,” Frankie mumbles, staring at the floor. He lifts one finger and with your breath held you watch it move slowly toward your foot until his fingertip meets your bare ankle. Softly, so softly. You hardly feel it, this small touch, his fragile apology.

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. It’s like he knows you’ve had some stupid crush on him for two years.

“Come on,” you say, as you crouch down to retrieve his forgotten key, then his arm, warm and solid in your grasp. “Think you better get into bed.”

He giggles as he lurches to his feet, thankfully able to stand after you steady him and release the weight of his arm. Cheeks warm, you walk his key across the hall, unlock the door, and step aside for him to go in with a sweep of your hand.

“How embarrassed should I be tomorrow?” Frankie asks, coming to stand at your side to stare down the tunnel of darkness formed by his entryway.

You shrug. “Willing to bet you won’t remember this in the morning,” you say, smirk nagging at your lips as you nudge his key back into his hand.

At the contact, he turns, face shadowed by his hat and curls licking playfully beneath the brim, and though you expect him to laugh or smile there’s not a drop of humor in his expression—he looks, you think, disappointed. Like maybe he doesn’t want to forget. Squinting, you tilt your head in the direction of his apartment, but Frankie doesn’t move. He blinks drowsily at you, bottom lip pouting again.

This is probably the most you’ve ever spoken in one go.

The closest you’ve ever stood.

“Pope’s never gonna le’me live this down,” he mumbles.

You huff a short chuckle under your breath and set one hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, to urge him inside—clearly the man’s never going to go in on his own.

“That one of your broad shouldered friends?” you tease.

Frankie only budges a step closer to the doorway, frowning as he rolls his shoulders, standing up a little straighter as if to make a point. “Yes,” he grumbles.

“Don’t worry, honey,” you tease, then drop your hand from his back. “You’re very broad, too.”

“I feel bad I woke you up,” Frankie says softly.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper, and you feel it again—that impulse to hold him, make it better. Rub his shoulders or something, just to help him relax.

“It is,” Frankie mumbles sorrily.

“Did you mean to wake me up?”

He sighs. “No.”

“Were you trying to break in, or did you get mixed up?”

“Got mixed up,” he admits quietly.

You catch his gaze and offer him a small smile. “Then I forgive you,” you say. “No harm done, seriously. You’re not the worst person to find at my door.”

This seems to settle him, at least a little, because with one final, frowning huff Frankie surrenders his guilt and nods. “Okay,” he murmurs, and time stands briefly still as he moves toward you—leaning in to graze his lips against your cheek, his stubble brushing your skin.

You stand, statued by your surprise, unable even to breathe.

“G’night, nena.”

“Goodnight,” you choke out, grateful that in his state he doesn’t seem to register your shock or the tremble in your voice. If he weren’t drunk, you’re pretty sure that would’ve snapped you. You’d have told him right now and right here that you’ll take care of him, help him unwind a little—that you’ve wanted to touch him for two years and it hasn’t gotten any easier, orbiting him without the guts to swing yourself closer to his gravity.

But he is drunk. Three quarters out of his mind, if you had to guess, based on the clumsy muddle of his footsteps as he at last sways into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. Leaving you breathless in the hallway, alone.

In the morning, you wake to a band of sunlight searing through your curtains. You’ve slept through your alarm all the way till ten, and lift your phone to find a text waiting on your lock screen, sent two hours ago.

Think I owe you an apology, neighbor.

Groggy, you frown at the string of digits you don’t recognize until the night comes back to you, piece by piece. Your heart stutters as you sit up in bed, letting your bedsheets pool in your lap as you type out a reply.

How did you get my number?

Also, you got up at 8am?? Are you even alive?

You get a reply only minutes later, while you’re brushing your teeth.

Told the building manager that I was getting your mail and wanted to return it. Little scary how few questions they asked.

You scoff, only to have your phone ding again immediately.

Sure hope I’m alive. I have a very thoughtful neighbor to thank for getting me home safe.

You spit into the sink, then rinse your mouth, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

Thoughtful, huh?

Pretty, too. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned that yet.

Still feel bad about last night. Let me make it up to you.

No more than six hours later, you’re pulled from whatever TV show’s been rotting your brain all afternoon by a steady knock on your front door. Your skin twinkles with nerves.

You’re fully clothed this time—showered too, thankfully—and when you open the door Frankie isn’t on his knees. He’s standing, curls squashed beneath his hat, t-shirt stretched across his chest, in black athletic shorts baring him below the knee, as he holds up two plastic bags that fill the hallway with a smell you know all too well: takeout from the Chinese place you love down the road. When your eyes round at the sight, Frankie grins, letting you glimpse the dimple that winks from his cheek.

You see, too, his exhaustion. The navy shadows bruised beneath his glassy eyes. He may be alive, but it’s painfully obvious that he must, beneath that smile, be suffering a brutal hangover. And he’s bringing you food—too generous a gesture, you think, for such a small crime.

“Hoped you might like this place,” he says.

“You really didn’t have to—” you start to say, but Frankie shakes his head before squeezing past you in the doorway to come inside.

“Only fair,” he insists, and you shut the door while he toes out of his shoes, thoughtful enough not to drag dirt into your apartment as he breezes into your kitchen like he’s done this a hundred times before. Opening the bags, cracking each container, fishing through drawers until he finds your cutlery. Domestic and entirely alien: this man you’ve known for two years who’s never entered your space, making himself at home. Trying to serve you.

Dumbstruck, you watch him, unsure what to say and the longer you do, the more the ache of him seems to radiate. You swear you see him wince when a drawer slams too hard, when he looks up accidentally into the ceiling light. With one hand, you reach out and turn the dimmer switch to soften the lights over his head, and Frankie looks up from the styrofoam containers to catch your eye.

The grin drops from his face. “Shit—is this too much? It’s too much, isn’t it?”

Frankie wipes his hands on his thighs as he rounds the kitchen island to stand before you, dark lashes batting worriedly over his freckled cheeks as he lowers his head to meet your eye. “If you want, I can just leave you with the food. Don't wanna be here if you don't want me to be.”

A soft scoff leaves your lips, the first breath of disbelief disguised as laughter. “Frankie,” you breathe, and his chest puffs at the way you say his name. “You look like you feel like shit. Your head must be killing you. And you brought me food.”

His jaw ticks, and you wonder if he’s been looking for an excuse to talk to you, too.

“No more fussing over me,” you say, lifting your hands slowly to rest on his shoulders.

Frankie flinches but doesn’t pull away, his warm eyes flickering between yours like he’s trying to unpuzzle you.

“Let me help,” you say.

“Hermosa,” he murmurs, sounding winded. Desperate. He shakes his head.

With a soft grin you slip your hands down his arms—firm and hot beneath your palms—to guide him toward your couch, warmed by a box of sunlight cast through the windows. Frankie sits with a gentle sigh, biceps tensing beneath your grasp, not yet sure what to make of you. You give his arms a light squeeze, flash him a grin you hope might ease his nerves, and sink to the carpet between his knees.

Frankie’s eyes go black.

The air simmers, woozy as the space above molten tarmac in the dead of summer. It’s a kind of spell, you think. His sharpened breath. Your hands slipping easily over his bare knees. And it’s obvious: the riot of guilt surging behind his lust-blown eyes, his instinct to politely turn you down as you rub his joints softly with your thumbs.

“Don’t have to,” you tell him, careful to hold his eye so he’ll see you mean them. “But I’d like to, if you want. Could take care of you for a while.”

Frankie lets out a ragged breath, and his eyes slam shut before he drops his head on the back of your couch. “Shit—are you—shit.” He grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, groans quietly, and from the floor you watch the way his whole body shudders as he struggles for air.

“That a yes or a no, let’s eat Chinese food?” you ask softly, hands frozen on his knees until he answers. “Either is good.”

“Shit—yes, that’s a yes,” Frankie pants, still hiding behind his hands with his head tipped back.

You lift one hand from his knee to reach for him, curling your fingertips around his forearm, pulling it away from his eyes. “Mírame,” you say, and it’s possible Frankie comes undone right then and there—chest deflating, arms slumping limp into his lap, head lolling to look down at you in disbelief.

Lips parted, his tongue slips across his bottom lip, sending a thrill through your body and a sudden stutter to your heart. But this isn’t about you; it’s about him, so you squeeze your thighs together as Frankie shifts his hips on the couch and nods shakily.

Oh, this is dangerous. How he already looks ready to fall apart beneath your hands. You might never get enough of it.

Testing the waters, you slide your hands slowly up his thighs just far enough to brush your fingertips to the hem of his shorts, the roped muscles in his legs tensing beneath your caress. “If you want me to stop, just say, okay?”

Frankie shakes his head, licks his lip again, and your eyes follow the glide of his tongue. “Not gonna want you to stop,” he breathes, as his cheek dimples with the flash of a sheepish grin.

You hum softly, shuffle closer to the couch, encouraging him to spread his legs wider with a press of your hands. “Just sit back, baby,” you murmur.

So he does. Frankie grunts as you patiently knead the mesa of his thighs—the hills of muscle bound tight beneath golden skin, so hot to the touch—and lower your lips to lay a kiss on his knee, glancing up through your lashes to gauge his reaction.

He rewards you with a needy groan that goes straight to your cunt.

You smile against his skin, let your hands wander, thumbs digging into his thighs as you work loose their knotted web. Humming, your hands slipping beneath the black curtain of his shorts to stray higher as you work, you slide the flat of your tongue up his inner thigh and Frankie’s whole body trembles.

“Fuck—nena, shit,” he pants, just before one hand bolts out to cover the crown of your head, stilling your movements.

You take your mouth off him and look up, basking in the abyss of his dark eyes and the red of his neck. “Want me to stop?” you ask.

Immediately, Frankie’s head shakes nonono as he gathers your hair in his fist, holding it back from your face. “Que cosa mas linda. So fuckin’ pretty.”

It’s easy, but you knew it would be, watching his body twitch and melt beneath your ministrations, the caress of your attentive hands. The wet suckle of your lips and tongue rising towards his hips. Slowly, you unwind him. Let him dissolve into your couch, always with some sweet nothing on his lips that could ruin you if you let it—mierda, feels so—so fucking good, perfect hands, holy shit, tan suave.

The taste of his skin is a balm in itself, heady, a little sweat-kissed, addictive. With his shorts shoved high on his hips, you latch at the supple flesh of his inner thigh and suck, drawing a tortured whimper from Frankie as he shivers, his chest rising faster with every breath.

“Shit—por favor, please,” he begs, as the hand in your hair gently scratches your scalp. It’s so gentle you almost believe he doesn’t know he’s doing it—that touching you like this, so tenderly, so ruinously, is to Frankie instinct alone.

“So sweet to me,” you murmur against his thigh, licking the pink mark you’ve left on his skin. “So strong, so warm. Just wanna take care of you, Frankie. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Hermosa,” he groans, desperate now, his cock twitching beneath the black of his shorts.

The square of sunlight glows over you both, warming you just as much as his body. Beyond the cracked window you can hear the chirp of birds finding their way to each other, the squeal of distant traffic, the churn of wind through the alley. All of it—all that raucous city noise that used to keep you up all night—feels tranquil now. A serene soundtrack whispering below the rasps of Frankie’s pleasure.

“Wanted to for a long time,” you tell him, before latching again at the top of his other thigh, marking satin skin with a matching brand. “Wanted to touch you so bad.”

He’s gasping now, lungs desperate for air like he’s been running, and his other hand grabs hold of your shoulder to pull you closer. “Would’a—” he wheezes, and lets his head drop back against the couch again like it’s too much to look right at you. “Would’ve let you if I’d—fuck—if I’d known.”

You hum against his leg, reach both hands high enough to dig your thumbs in the crevice of his hips, and Frankie jolts, hissing a strangled fuck before settling again, more liquid than before.

Higher, your mouth climbs, desperate for more of him. Electric with the feeling of his need, the way his hands keep you near to him—thumb sweet on your shoulder, fingertips drawing little circles on your scalp. It’s possible you’ve never liked pleasuring someone so much, and you’ve liked it before. But Frankie responds to your every movement and breath, every change in pressure or place, strung taut as a bow that’s fighting not to snap.

With a final glance up at Frankie, his head hung back to unveil the gold of his throat, the stubble scattered along his jaw, you nuzzle your nose gently against his crotch and feel his cock throb, hitting your cheek.

“Baby,” he whines, hand tightening in your hair.

“I’ve got you,” you coo, and draw your own out of his shorts to hook into the waistband. “Gonna take you out now, is that okay?”

“Fuck—yes—fucking yes it’s okay,” he begs, and the light sting of his hand pulling your hair tighter paints a smile on your face.

Slowly, you peel down his shorts and find no boxers beneath them, only the heavy length of him which bobs up against his t-shirt, thick and swollen and aching. “No underwear? Frankie,” you tease, and he chuckles hoarsely as you cast his shorts aside.

“Laundry day,” he wheezes, and you click your tongue before scooting forward until your chest presses against the cushions, framed by his legs.

He’s beautiful like this, destroyed but in the good way—dragged out of his head for a while by your dutiful hands, your thumbs digging into the meat of his thighs. His cock leaking and twitching every time the warmth of your breath fans over his soft skin.

With one hand, you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, and the whimper that leaves Frankie’s lips in reply might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wet your tongue along his length, tasting the earth of him before wrapping your lips around his tip, trading off between suckling and licking.

The hand in your hair locks up suddenly, not moving your head but clamping down hard. You moan softly and he twitches on your tongue. Grows harder, somehow, when a moment ago you’d have thought it impossible.

“Ay,” he croaks. “Fuck—your fucking mouth, baby.”

Perhaps this is what emboldens you, makes you sloppy—just as needy as him. Drool slicking to his length as you bob, drinking in his every moan and babble. Your fist pumping what you can’t take, jaw aching around his girth. Frankie might come apart at the molecules, you think. Evanesce cell by cell, held in the heat of your mouth as you swallow around his length, forcing the head of his cock to the back of your throat.

When you gag, eyes watering, heart a hummingbird in your chest, he makes a desperate whine and his hand tenses on your shoulder.

You’d stay here the rest of the night, if he’d let you, but he doesn’t.

Frankie thighs twitch, breaths coming faster now, shorter. Close.

“Necesito sentirte,” he says as he squeezes your shoulder again. “Please—shit, gonna come if you don’t stop—fuck, nena, please let me feel you. Wanna feel you so fucking bad. Wanted you—fuckfuck—wanted you the day you moved in.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you see his hat has tumbled off, leaving the crown of his head a mess of flattened down curls broken up by the occasional stray, and something about how he looks in this moment, fuckedout and gone and desperate, makes you want to stay right where you are.

Still, you hollow your cheeks as you ease off him with a wet pop, one hand pumping his thick cock while the other rubs his muscled thigh. You shake your head, bottom lip bitten. “Next time,” you promise, with a smirk rich on your lips. Then you’re on him again, throat open and accepting as he teeters on the edge of falling apart.

“Mmmph, shit—nena, so good, oh my god,” Frankie gasps, hands back in your hair to hold it out of your way. “Gonna make me—fuck, where do I—where do you—”

He doesn’t get the rest out; the moment you slip your hand beneath his balls and sink your lips to the base of his heavy length, taking him to the hilt, Frankie comes with a sudden cry. Warmth pumps down your aching throat as he pants, fingers tangled in your hair, and you swallow it all hungrily while you moan.

He whimpers when you lift off his spent cock to look up at him with a satisfied grin. If you thought he looked ruined before, you were wrong. This is what he looks like when you’ve wrecked him.

“Come here,” he croaks, then with a grunt Frankie yanks you off the floor and onto his lap to envelope you in his arms. You settle on his thighs, try not to swoon at his strength, and when he kisses you it isn’t at all what you’re expecting—there’s no roar, no taking, not a drop of desperation left in him at all. No, Frankie kisses you wholly, gently, all lithe tongue and sweetness and gratitude, and the longer it goes on the more you both smile, struggling to kiss around laughter and teeth.

When he pulls back, his pupils are still blown but warm too, so warm. His face and beard gilded with late afternoon light. He strokes a thumb across your cheek, then bumps his nose against yours, and you sink against his chest to chase his mouth. Before you can, Frankie's arms lock around your waist; he throws you down onto the couch, pinning you beneath him with a smug little smile.

“This time I get to taste you, hermosa,” he promises, then seals it with a kiss.

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#triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #francisco catfish morales fanfic #PPCUBodyWorshipChallenge #myfics #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #almostfoxglove #fic: sitbackbaby #smut #fluff #guys i got this down to 4k do i get a gold star???

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goingsunnythousandmerry · 7 months ago

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Reunion Post-Time Skip- Will the Romance Re-Dawn?

Monster Trio (Sanji, Zoro, Luffy) + Bonus- Law x Reader

Author's Note: So I've been listening to “Guilt as Sin?” by T. Swift on repeat and came up with this idea, based around this one lyric:

“What if he’s written “mine” on my upper thigh only in my mind?

The oneshots are not actually what’s in the song, but just an idea from. Let me know your thoughts, suggestions, or other One Piece oneshot ideas I can help bring to life. Comment down below! Thanks!

P.S. Let me know if you want me to actually write out oneshots for the pre-time skip moments instead of just summaries or if we want some NSFW from this scenarios.

Features: Monster Trio- Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and bonus- Law

Summary:

You, a member of the Strawhat crew, had a romantic moment with one of your crewmates while at Sabaody. This was prior to Luffy punching a celestial dragon, the navy invading, Kuma blasting everybody to all parts of the globe, and the two year training time skip. Now, two years later, you’ve reunited with the Strawhats to continue your journey into the New World.

You’ve spent two years replaying the romantic moment you had with your crewmate. None of the other crew members know about it. You’ve daydreamed about what could have been and what could be when you reunite with them. However, you can’t help but think, two years is a long time, and maybe it was nothing, or maybe their feelings have changed. Maybe they will pretend nothing happened when you see them again.

Bonus with Law: You and Law had a moment on the polar tang before he left for Punk Hazard and sent you and the rest of the Heart Pirates to Zou. You have just learned Law has made it to Zou after the events of Dressrosa. You wonder if your captain will pretend nothing happened before he left, or if you will get to resume where you left off.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Hints at NSFW, Hints at sexual interactions in past or in future, Accidental ass/panty flash, lap sitting, nosebleeds, pet names

FLUFF, SFW

General Moment Monster Trio:

You and the crew have just left Thriller Bark and are on your way to Fishman Island. Along the way you meet Cami, a mermaid and are reunited with a former enemy Hatchan. After saving these two and being fed by them to fortify your friendship, they instruct you to head to Sabaody Archipelago. Once there, you set out to find Rayleigh, a friend of Hatchan, who will hopefully coat your ship, allowing you passage to Fishman Island and, thus, the New World. Prior to the major events of this arc, you share a kiss or more with one of your favorite members of the monster trio.

Sanji:

Pre-time Skip Moment Summary:

You were helping Sanji prepare a meal in the kitchen. The rest of the crew were repairing the ship or searching for Rayleigh. While reaching for something that was too high on a shelf for you to grab, Sanji grabbed your waist and assisted you in retrieving it. The intimacy of the close proximity led to the two of you kissing. Unfortunately, you were interrupted by a transponder snail call. The call was from Chopper, Brook and Luffy informing you that Cami was kidnapped.

Post-time Skip Reunion:

Sanji arrived at the Sunny to drop off his gear before setting off to the market. Already on board the ship were you, Usop, Franky, and Chopper. You chose to wear a light blue sundress that was low cut in the front and hit just below your ass. The dress cinched just above your waist and accentuated your breasts. This outfit was ideal for showing off how your curves had grown and changed in the two years you had spent away from the crew. It also showed off how strong you had gotten. Sanji had been yelling back and forth discussing something with Franky as he began to walk aboard the ship. Not noticing the voice, but coming to assist Franky, you had exited the kitchen and dropped something you were carrying. As you leaned down to pick it up Sanji stepped aboard the Sunny. Thinking no one was there as you were distracted by the joy of being reunited with your crewmates, you bent down sloppily allowing your dress to rise up. Sanji’s eyes widened as he was awarded the visual of more of your ass than he ever had before and your pink underwear. Sanji’s eyes turned to hearts, his tongue fell out of his mouth, and blood shot out of his nose like a geyser.

“Y/N-Swan!!!” You heard Sanji call as you shot your head around to look at him.

You quickly grabbed the item you had dropped and stood up, readjusting the bottom of your dress as you did. Your face grew a faint pink hue at your cheeks as you stared at the curly eyebrowed man. He took in the full sight of you, cleavage and all, and the blood from his nose jetted out faster, causing him to faint. You and Chopper rushed to his side and tried to rouse him. Franky and Usop stood behind you and looked down at the fainted Sanji, attempting to cover their mouths to hide their laughter. Sanji’s eyes opened gently and looked up at him.

“I just saw a goddess… I can die happy… Y/N-Swan… is that you..? He asked as he tilted his head to look in your direction. “The goddess! Y/N-Swan it’s you!” He muttered as blood shot harder from his nose and his eyes closed again.

“Sanji!” You yelled.

“Sanji! You have to get yourself together! If you keep bleeding like this you’re going to be in big trouble fast!” Chopper begged.

Sanji took a deep breath and blinked his eyes open again. He slowly cocked his head to look at his crewmates individually. He first looked at Chopper, then Franky, Usop, then back at you. You smiled at him causing his breath to catch in his throat. He gritted his teeth and his eyes grew wide as he looked at you. The color slowly faded from his skin and a small drop of blood dribbled from his nose.

“Sanji!” Chopper yelled. “You have to keep it together!”

Sanji finally regained his ability to breathe and took a deep breath. As he did, he raised a hand to caress your cheek.

“Y/N-Swan… my beautiful Y/N-swan… I didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but here you are. I’m sorry for my behavior…” He began to speak as his hand fell from your cheek.

Sanji looked up at the sky above him, then turned and glanced back at you. You grabbed his hand in yours.

“Are you okay, Sanji?” You asked, eyes glistening with worry.

Sanji closed his eyes and returned his gaze to the sky above him.

“I was in Hell for 2 years… All… All that got me through was the thought of you… the thought of you and our kiss. You’re what got me back here today, Y/N, you’re what got me out of hell.” Sanji said, as he moved to sit up on his elbows and look deeper into your eyes.

Your eyes watered as you stared into his gray-blue orbs and pale face. Chopper wiped away the blood from his face as the two of you continued to look at one another.

“Hold on, wait a minute, did you say "kiss”?” Franky interrupted.

“Sanji… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day. I… was worried you’d want to pretend like it never happened..” You said as you broke eye contact with him.

“So you two kissed? When!? Where were we?” Usop urged.

“Never, Y/N.” Sanji replied, lifting your chin and pulling you into a soft kiss.

“AHHH! What is happening?!” Chopper eyes popped out of his head as he screamed.

Sanji pulled you into his chest and the two of you continued to kiss. Chopper slowly backed up into Franky and Usop’s legs. Chopper and Usop sighed and shook their heads.

“It’s okay little buddy. It’s a super thing, guess these two have been lovebirds the whole time and we didn’t know. Come on. Let’s leave them to it.” Franky said as he picked up Chopper and walked away from you and Sanji kissing.

Usop shrugged his shoulders and followed behind Franky. Once they left, you pulled away from Sanji and whispered in his ear.

“I’ve been thinking about a lot more than just kissing over the past two years… Nami is in town and Robin isn’t back yet… should we take this to my room?”

“Shopping can wait!” Sanji said shakily as blood shot out of his nose again.

You stood up and pulled him to his feet. Once on his feet, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind you to your bedroom. His eyes were full of hearts as you dragged him away.

Zoro

Pre-time Skip Moment:

You and the crew were on your way to Sabaody Archipelago after Thriller Bark. At Thriller Bark Zoro got badly injured, due to a run in with Kuma. Chopper had asked if you would help keep an eye on Zoro because he loved to take off his dressings to train. One afternoon on your way to Sabaody Chopper and you hadn’t seen Zoro in awhile and well, that made you both nervous. You went on a hunt for the swordsman and you found him training away in the crows nest. The two of you got into a heated argument and well… one thing led to another and the two of you fucked.

Post-time Skip:

Zoro was the first to arrive at Shakky’s bar. He waited for hours for anyone else to arrive, but eventually, he grew bored of waiting, so he decided to head to the Sunny. As he opened the door, you were reaching for the doorknob to the establishment. You looked up and smiled at him as the door opened. You were wearing a dark green spaghetti strap dress. The dress was cut to highlight your curves and muscles that had grown and changed over the past two years. Zoro gasped as he saw you.

“Hey Zoro! Been awhile, good to see you!” You said as you stepped back to let the swordsman outside of the bar.

“Y/N.” He said plainly, barely making eye contact with you.

As he began to step out of the doorway, you lept at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. His body tensed as yours hit his, his eyes widened, and his teeth clenched. He inhaled deeply taking in your scent, as he exhaled, he wrapped his arms around your waist. A few moments go by as you both rest in one another's arms.

“I missed you.” You mutter. “I missed everyone. Is anyone else here yet?” You added as you pulled away from him and dropped your hands to rest upon his muscular chest.

You lift your head to gaze into his dark eye and gaze upon the scar closing his other. He loosened his grip on your waist and looked down at you, his teeth clenched harder at the intimacy of the moment.

“Damn forward as ever woman.” He said with a smirk as he directed his gaze to your arms on his chest, causing you to chuckle.

“How have you been Zoro? What did you do for these last two years?! What happened to your eye? Where are you going?” You ask as you reach a hand up to touch his cheek.

“Wow. Slow down, woman. It’s just you and me here so far to answer your first question and well, the rest is a long story.” Zoro interjected.

As he spoke you lifted your hand to touch his left cheek, below his eye, where part of his scar rested. As you did so, the door to the restaurant opened and out stepped Rayleigh. Rayleigh’s face formed a large grin when he saw Zoro holding your waist and you reaching for his cheek.

“Well what do we have here..? Rayleigh asked with a laugh.

Zoro jumped back from you and crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze averted to the ground below him, allowing him to not make eye contact with you or Rayleigh. You blushed and turned to Rayleigh with a soft smile.

“Well, you didn’t have to stop on my account… Y/N, you’re looking as lovely as ever. It’s wonderful to see you again.” Rayleigh said.

“Thanks, Rayleigh. It’s nice to see you too! How have you and Shakky been?” You questioned, with a deepening blush.

“We’ve been good. I just came out to make sure Zoro was finding his way to the Sunny. I remembered he had some issues with directions and thought it might be best if I took him myself. You should come with us, Y/N, I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to the past two years.”

“That’d be great!” you say with a nod.

“I would’ve found the way on my own. I got here on my own.” Zoro mumbled to himself.

You, Rayleigh, and Zoro made your way to the Sunny together. Rayleigh shared tales of training Luffy and you talked about what you were up to. Zoro stayed silent for the most part on your journey, but peered at you through stolen side glances along the way. He was not subtle, so you of course caught them. He occasionally smirked at what you and Rayleigh said, but not much in terms of information sharing on his adventures for the past two years.

Back at the Sunny you ran into a few more members of your crew. Franky was inspecting the ship and Nami was stopping by to drop off her things before going to meet Usop. You greeted them both with hugs and began to catch up a bit. Rayleigh took his leave of you all to go make sure other members of your crew weren’t waiting back at the bar. While you caught up with your other crewmates on deck, Zoro had found a place to nap nearby. While you conversed, you occasionally felt a gaze upon your back.

While Nami informed you about new weather phenomena and navigation techniques she had learned, you glanced over at Zoro and briefly made eye contact with him. You shyly grinned in his direction, he shook his head, smirked, then closed his eye again to return to his nap.Nami of course, noticed all of this and rolled her eyes at you.

“Y/N?” Nami angrily urged.

“Oh sorry Nami, I was just thinking about a funny part of my journey getting here. How’d you get back?”

“Sure you were.” She replied. “Well I better go meet Usop. You can tell me all about your trip when I get back.” She said with a wink.

You waved goodbye to her and she headed off the ship, toward the island. When you looked back in Zoro’s direction he was gone. You talk with Franky for a few more minutes, then finally excuse yourself to go unpack. You couldn’t wait to get settled and reunite with the rest of the crew. In the midst of unpacking you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You turned around and sure enough Zoro was standing in your doorway. His arms were crossed and his gaze directed at his arms in front of him.

“Hey.” You said as you refold a shirt and set it on your bed.

“Two years is a pretty long time…” Zoro began.

“Yeah, it is… but being back on the Sunny… it feels like we left only yesterday.”

“I couldn’t agree more, and well I seem to remember us doing an interesting workout before we left….”

Your breath caught in your throat. Zoro’s blank expression formed a cocky smirk as he noticed your body tense up. He stood tall from leaning against the doorway and pulled the door shut behind him. He walked toward you as you turned to face him head on.

“Zoro, I…” You start.

Zoro walked past you and sat down on your bed, still not looking at you. He leaned back on his hands.

“Two years, and I haven’t been able to do a workout as well as that one… Think maybe we could try it again?” He said as he glanced at you, with his one eye to see your reaction.

“Two years is a long time to go without a proper workout… Guess we have a lot to make up for.” You said as you moved to stand in front of him, your lips twisted devilishly as you stared down at him.

He reached up with one hand and grabbed you by the waist. You gasped as he pulled you to sit upon his toned lap. His chapped lips pressed against yours. Fingers danced up and down your torso. Your hands wrapped around his neck and started fingering through his hair. He pulled back from your lips a string of saliva between you. You both chuckled as you stared at one another. He was more muscular than he was two years ago and maybe a bit rougher around the edges. You weren’t sure what he had been through these past two years, but in that moment you realized he was still the same Zoro from two years ago.

“Let’s see what two years of training has done for you…” You begin with a smirk.

Luffy

Pre-time skip Moment:

Luffy had ridden the ferris wheel alone with Cami, your fear of heights prevented you from joining them. After his ride with Cami, Luffy insisted on taking you. Luffy asked Chopper, Pappagu, Hatchan, and Brook if it was okay, and if they would look out for Cami while he was gone, they agreed. You rode the ride alone with him only to freak out at the ride's peak height. Luffy had no idea what to do, so he kissed you. He quickly pulled away apologizing to a stunned you. Once you had realized what had happened, you pressed your lips back against his. The two of you shared a passionate makeout session, but were interrupted by the sound of Chopper yelling about a yummy snack as the ride got close to the ground. Luffy rushed to the window to see what the ruckus was and he got too excited about food, to talk with you about what just happened. When the ride docked, he grabbed your hand and pulled you off the ride towards the food. Then while you and your crewmates were distracted by food, Cami got kidnapped and well the rest of the events of the arc occurred.

Post-Time Skip:

Luffy was the last to arrive at the Sunny, and he was being chased by the navy when he arrived. You watched him from the deck as he ran towards the ship. You couldn’t help but grin at seeing your reckless captain getting himself into trouble again. You stared on in awe as he, Zoro, and Sanji approached the ship. Your thoughts were interrupted by Nami yelling for assistance to prepare for departure. You and the rest of the crew quickly sprung into action to help prepare the Sunny for your ocean descent to Fishman Island.

Zoro and Sanji made it to the Sunny and you greeted them both with quick hugs. Luffy made it on board, but before you got the chance to hug him, cannon fire began to target Sunny. You and some of your crewmates started to panic. Zoro and Sanj prepared to begin deflecting the cannon fire. You looked out at the encroaching ships and noticed another one nearby that was not one of the marines. One of your crewmates mentioned it, because it moved into the path between your ship and the marines, causing the marines' cannon fire to stop. That’s when Luffy informed you all he had spent the past two years on or near the Island of Women with the Pirate Empress, Boa Hancock.

Usop and Sanji took turns trying to see the pirate empress with their binoculars and swooning at the idea of being stranded with her. This information and watching your other crewmates melt at the idea of Luffy’s adventure made your heart ache with jealousy. Yes, you’d been apart from Luffy and knew you hadn’t talked about your kiss, but it had meant something to you. Two years hadn’t changed your feelings, frankly seeing Luffy only rekindled them. Maybe though, two years and losing Ace had changed things for him. More gun and cannon fire awoke you from your thoughts and you helped the crew protect the Sunny. Thankfully Luffy’s friend, Boa Hancock, helped you all escape.

As you descend into the depths of the ocean, you and the crew caught up a bit. You learned more about Luffy’s adventures. You wandered towards the Sunny's figurehead. The rest of the crew chatted on the main deck or went to finish unpacking their things for the next leg of the journey. You stared into the abyss that was the ocean in front of you and thought of your dreams, and of Luffy. Your thoughts were shortly interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Y/N.” Luffy said with a large grin.

You felt his stretched arms wrap around you and pull you across the top deck into his embrace. You softly laughed at the familiarity as you turned to look into his eyes, his arms returning to normal at your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. After a few seconds, you dropped your hands to his chest, gazing upon his new scar before returning your gaze to his onyx orbs.

“Luffy… Luffy I’m so sorry about Ace. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” You sais as your eyes started to glisten with tears.

Luffy pulled you back into his chest. Your smile widened at his action causing you to let out a chuckle, as a few tears dripped down your face.

“You shouldn’t be comforting me! I should be comforting you.” You added, pulling back from the hug again. “I know how important he was to you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. The past two years haven’t been easy.” Luffy said, as he still held onto your waist, but directed his gaze into the ocean. “I’m sorry I selfishly took them. A friend of mine reminded me, I still had a reason to pursue my dream… this crew… So I took two years to get stronger to make sure that could never happen again… because, Y/N… Y/N if I lost you…” Luffy looked down at his hands and he gripped your waist tighter. “My dream couldn’t come true, because my dream isn’t my dream without you by my side.” He said as he looked back up to meet your stare.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You replied as a soft smile grew upon your pink lips.

“Good. Then I’ve been waiting two years to do something.” He said, a devious smile forming across his face.

Luffy pulled your waist against his with one hand and placed the other on your cheek. He gently pulled your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft against yours. Once the initial shock wore off, you kissed him back, settling your arms around his neck to pull him deeper into you. Your lips parted slowly allowing his tongue to slip inside. Your impassioned kiss on the top deck of the ship lasted a few minutes only to be interrupted by Nami.

“Hey lovebirds! There’s something following us!” Nami yelled.

You looked past Luffy’s shoulder and noticed a ship quickly approaching the Sunny. Luffy stretched his neck to look behind him, a big toothy grin forming on his face as he looked out. He laughed.

“I can handle anything the New World throws at us, as long as you and the rest of this crew stay by my side. It’s good to be back.” Luffy said as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the rear deck.

Law

Moment before Dressrosa:

Law had just announced to you, and the rest of the Heart pirates, that he wanted you to take the Polar Tang to Zou, while he dealt with an important mission elsewhere. He left out a lot of details, but he informed you that the next day you’d be dropping him off at Punk Hazard then continue on to Zou without him. The entire crew gasped at the announcement and grew upset. Law in classic Law fashion, reminded them it was an order and as members of his crew they had to do as he instructed. The crew agreed, but reminded him they weren't happy about it. You, being especially close with your captain, as the only nurse on his crew, went to his quarters that night to demand more of an explanation. However, many of your crewmates, mainly Bepo, had the same idea. You didn’t get a chance to confront Law until the next day. You caught Law in his quarters and he allowed you to come in to talk to him. The two of you got into a heated argument about his plans, which ended with a passionate kiss initiated by him. Unfortunately, your kiss was interrupted by the Bepo knocking on the door to inform Law you’d arrived at Punk Hazard. Law stepped away from you, apologized, and exited the ship. You chased after him yelling, but you were ignored and Law exited the ship. Once on the deck, he used his room ability to teleport himself to the island. You, Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo all cried as you watched Law walk off.

Reunited at Zou:

You had gotten word via News Coo of the events at Dressrosa and were proud of your captain for his actions. He was alive and that was the most important thing. However, it had been months since he had left you and the rest of the Heart Pirates to go off on his own. You were still missing a lot of information on why he left. He didn’t explain why he had to go, where he had to go, or why he had kissed you before he left. Had he only explained that kiss, maybe you wouldn’t have been so mad. When news reached you from the Minks of the arrival of some intruders and to be on guard, you knew it was him. Your heart warmed at the thought of being reunited with your captain. Butterflies danced in your stomach and your thoughts soared into hopes of getting an explanation for that kiss. You finished tying the string around your neck of the tightfitting yellow dress one of the minks had given to you and walked outside at the sound of cheers.

Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin found him first, no surprise. You allowed the rest of the crew to swarm him when he made it to the Guardians layer. You watched from afar as your crewmates hugged Law, his body tensing with every touch. You smiled and giggled as they began asking him a million questions about the Strawhats and Dressrosa.

“That’s enough. Meet me inside and I’ll answer all of your questions. I’ll put my stuff down then meet you in the main room.” He said shortly as he tossed his sword back over his shoulder.

“So glad to have you back, Captain!” Bepo called as he headed into the Guardian’s layer.

“Yeah, Captain. Can’t wait to tell you about what we’ve been up to.” Penguin said.

“Glad you’re okay, Captain.” Shachi added.

You walked inside with Jean Bart, both of you guessing at what could be the next adventure for you and your crew. The crew had planned a surprise celebration for Law’s return once you’d received news about the events at Dressrosa. The early warning of intruders on Zou, that the minks had received that morning provided you and the crew ample time to cook and decorate. You had been the mastermind of course, and you knew Law would pretend to hate it, but he’d actually appreciate it. Besides, it had been so long since you had seen him, you had started to wonder if he would come back at all. Planning this event gave you and your crewmates a glimmer of hope. Before you could go check on the final details, you noticed a blue circle form around you. Suddenly, you were in a hallway standing in front of Law.

“C-C-Captain.” You stuttered, surprised to suddenly be looking in the face of the man who crossed your mind every second of every day for the past year, since you had joined his crew.

“I didn’t see you when I first arrived.” He said flatly as he stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, well, I hung back, I thought I could catch you later. Everyone was so excited to have you back. I….” You replied, rubbing the back of your head as the butterflies in your stomach frenzied.

“You weren’t?”

He glanced down at the space between you and placed his hand in his pocket. You took a step closer to him.

“Law… I” You started, tears beginning to form in your eyes. “I just needed a minute to know that it was real… That you were real.”

He looked up at you, breath catching in his chest as he saw the tears forming in your eyes. You took a deep breath.

“I’m so happy to see you, but I’m pissed at you.” You said as you shoved his shoulder. “How could you leave like that? We saw the alliance in the papers and… I.”

“I said I’d come back.” He replied, his eyes darting to meet yours, then to study the ground before him.

You sighed and turned your head. He looked exhausted. Taking down Doflamingo couldn’t have been easy, you had just wished he had let you be there to help.

“I haven’t been on this crew long, Captain… but Law, I like to think I know you a little bit… and you didn’t mean it.” You voiced with furrowed brows.

You stared at him longingly, heart sinking as the silence grew around you in the empty hallway. You wiped a tear from your cheek and swallowed hard, stepping away from him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Captain.” You said with a sigh. Now, the crew has planned a celebration for your return, try to be nice”. You replied as you wiped your cheeks and began to walk away from him.

A hand caught your wrist causing you to gasp. The hand whirled you around and moved to your chin, where suddenly, soft chapped lips were against yours. Your chest tightened and heart soared as his other hand moved to rest upon your waist. You blinked your eyes a few times, letting them soften closed as you tilted your head into his kiss. The rise and fall of your chest accelerated as you parted your lips open and began pressing back against his. Your hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him deeper into your embrace. A few minutes passed before the two of you broke apart gasping for air. A string of saliva still connected your lips.

He dropped his hands to your waist and watched the rise and fall of your chest. You stared at his lips, desperately wanting them back against yours, but you knew you had to return to your crew. Law’s teeth clenched and he tightened his grip on your waist.

“I just needed you safe. It was my mission. I was willing to die for it, but I wasn’t willing to take you down with me.” He spoke between pants.

“Captain, don’t I get to decide who and what I live or die for?” You responded as you rested your forehead against Law’s.

“I thought… I told you to call me Law in private.” He said with a smirk.

“Don’t think that…one kiss gets you off the hook. You better behave yourself at this celebration and tell us everything.” You raised your eyebrows at him sternly as you spoke.

“I thought I was the one who gave the orders around here.” He replied as his hands began roaming your waist and torso.

“You’ve been gone a long time and someone had to take charge. Maybe I don’t want to give it up?” You replied with a laugh. “Well behave and after the celebration, I’ll let you order me around back in your quarters. You are the only person I take orders from.”

You deviously smirked at Law and walked down the hallway.

“Y/N, nice dress by the way. Suits you… But I think it will look better on my floor.”

“As you wish, Captain.” You replied, turning around to salute him as you did.

451 notes · View notes

opbackgrounds · 11 days ago

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It will be commented on later by Drake, but something I feel that gets overlooked by the fandom is that the Pacifistas bleed. They're not pure robots, but utilize the Vinsmoke cloning technology and are like Franky--a slurry of mechanical and organic bits mixed together into one.

So when characters like the Straw Hats blow them up, it's not as simple as destroying a robot. There was a person in there somewhere, even if they were grown in a vat and had their brain replaced with a computer. This is a little bit more obvious with the S versions shown in Egghead, but no less horrific here.

#opbackgrounds #one piece #ch509 #pacifista #you could blame the wg but I put it mostly on vegapunk

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yandere-wishes · 8 months ago

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙

❤️‍🩹Characters: Yandere! MH Ghouls x GN! Reader

❤️‍🩹Summary: There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

❤️‍🩹Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Body horror in Frankie's part, slight gore and blood in the rest, angst, super cryptic.

❤️‍🩹Could be read as romantic or platonic.

I am a monster, for now and forever. I am a monster, what a terrible being.〜♡॰ॱ

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. ~❣✧❣

⚡︎Frankie Stein ⚡︎

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. Frankie is desperate to unravel it. To crack it open. She feels you in every one of her limbs. Feels you in the stems of her patchwork heart. That has to account for something right?

Your melancholy seeps through you, tainting the tiles in shades of gold.

Frankie blames the binding of your skin, she's always found it too loose.

Nothing extramundane, to tether your essence within yourself. She wouldn't mind taking you apart and stitching you back together. Recreating you into something perfect. She's grown wry of watching you crack your ribcage open, shoving astral celestials where your heart should be. You mutter things, things she doesn't understand, things she's scared she'll never understand. Her bones rattle, a rouge spark runs down her spine. Every piece of you haunts her...

Frankie use to believe, verily childishly, that parts of her were salvaged from you. She knows now that that's impossible, yet she still wishes every night for the childish dream to come true.

In many ways, Frankie has always been bound to you. Your first friend, your first confidant, your first punishment, your first comprehension. Even when you'd been too young to understand the cacophony of the world, you'd still know the two of you were connected.

It had only taken a lifetime to understand why.

Bones collapse into constellations. Somehow she feels you slipping away. Her slender fingers trace the stitches across the hollow of your chest. A meteoric reminder of her work. "It's okay I'll have you fixed in no time." Frankie doubts you find any truth in her incentive. You've always been drawn to pessimism. Still, she feeds the needle through skin and muscle. Praying she remembers the stronghold pattern her mother taught her.

The shade they used for your blood is too bright. You bleed in rivers,

flowing with no end insight. You wash away her sorrows with farfetched promises. Awakening a longing, she never knew she had.

Frankie wishes she could pluck out your spine. Kiss each vertebra like an iridescent pear. Maybe then your souls would tether, maybe then everything will go back to the way it once was. The needle snags across bones, marring your skin in star-kissed bruises. She pecks each one, muttering a sorry across cold flesh. You feel like home under her lips. A home she never got to know.

Yet the echoes of its brilliance linger faintly in the hearts of those who once knew its warmth.

Frankie smiles as your eyes crack open. Dizzy and distant, you've yet to notice your enhancements. The pieces of herself she tethered onto you. She wonders when you'll notice the new eye, the new leg, the mismatched fingers. Her heart sparks thumbing loudly in her ribcage.

She sinks down, by the operation table,skinning her knees. You feel like home, now more than ever.

Your fingers find her head, patting the matted hair, she smiles something solemn and forlorn. She trails her fingers over one of the stitches on your arm, prying her slender digits between the threads and into the gaping tissue. Her fingers release a spark, your body arches off the table. After all, blood has always been a good conductor for electricity. "It's just a power boost. You'll be right up in a few minutes." a giggle rips from her throat, as you mummble an acknowledgment. Eyes overcast with equal parts grief and glee.

She always knew she loved you how could she not? You'd been linked to her for as long as she had a conscience. You had always been her everything. Sometimes she wonders how you both ended up like this. Stitching pieces of yourselves into each other.

Frankie closes her eyes. Her mind struggling to regain control. Her deep breaths waver as she hears shifting from the table.

"It's alive..."

𓆩❤︎𓆪Draculaura𓆩❤︎𓆪

Draculaura can smell the ethereal ichor now. Maybe it's always been there. Hidden under bygone layers and golden sand. She wonders if now, knowing what you know, makes you see her as anything less. You're older now, smarter. Maybe you understand the world just a little bit better than she ever could.

Despite her gifted immortality, Draculaura likes to think that she's grown, too. No longer the little batling who faints at the mere scent of blood. Yet the urge to vomit is still there, an acidic reflex in the back of her throat. She's been avoiding you lately, simply because you make the urges go away.

She can't live with that.

Can't live with what you make her.

You trace the heart on her cheek. Your fingers feel like divinity sinking into her skin. You try to reason with her, tell her the truths of the crypt. "Surly Draculaura, you must know who you really are. Isn't it silly that you persist in this nativity?" Your words are harsh. Good intentions wrapped in silver blades. She bites her tongue, killing the queries before they dare spill.

You make her crave things.

Things she's avoided her whole life.

There's blood on your lips, dripping onto the ground. She fights the urge to kiss you. The heat of the sun amplifies the scent of the decaying flesh. Her stomach growls, this isn't right. The grip on her parasol tigtens. There is justice behind your actions, not one she can make herself understand. She watches as you tear into the decomposing body. "Don't", it's nothing less of a prayer. She feels her fangs elongate. How she wishes the world would turn to black.

Can a vampire be haunted?

Surly they can, it's the only answer to your staunch lingering.

Draculaura's coffin feels too snug, like a home and a prison encapsulated in one. She wishes she could feel cold dirt under her nails, feel the thrill of digging her way out of a grave. It's your fault, it has to be. Why must you awaken such ancient sensations? Such horrid cravings, such primal needs.

Why must she see divinity in your face, liquid darkness shimmering behind enigmatic eyes? You are something terrifying, something painful. You are what she was supposed to be, what she's fled from her whole life.

Your silhouette is a curse and a blessing. A reminder of a lineage she was thrusted into. A legacy she never wanted. Everything about you is a hunting familiarity for a family she never knew. She wonders if she would have been the prettiest girl in the morgue. She wonders if her father should have let her die all those eons ago.

"I used to be human" She confesses one night. She doesn't know why you agreed to come over. Why seeing you in your pajamas sparks one too many fond memories.

"So?" your tone is one of perplexity. She feels foolish under your gaze. You glide the makeup brush across her cheeks. dusting them with faded nostalgia. "I can't eat them. It'll feel like I'm eating myself" How long has it been since the transformation occurred? how long has it been since she shedded the body of that sickly fragile girl? She's been a vampire for centuries yet still can't get used to the title.

"You can eat these ones..." Something ancient within her stirs, her bones rattle with comprehension. She knows what you mean and it fills her with a need to scream.

Draculaura can't see her reflection, can't gauge how different she is now. You used to help her with her makeup back in high school. Back when the shade of your lipstick determined your personality for the day. She's never seen her face. She prays it's identical to yours. She prays that someday she can embody you...

There's a deathly hunger within her. Bubbling in her stomach. She needs to let it out before it kills her. Can she even die? She's almost sure she wants to. You almost make her want to succumb to the impulse of quitting her humanity all toghter. Your presence makes her all so hungry. She's gotten better at hiding it under school-ghoul gossip and trend talk.

She settles for a kiss tonight, a rushed peck on the cheek. Some vampire she is, instead of bleeding you dry she's pouring her sorrows into you. She wonders if you take note. See the ghosts jouncing within her soul.

Draculaura's nails pick at the skin of her birthmark.

The skin cracks.

blood trickles.

Can a vampire even be haunted?

Yes.

She knew the charade wouldn't last forever.

Knew that one day the lights would dim and the stage would fade to black

A final curtain call. An impending doom.

The final nail in her glass coffin. Rendering it to shards.

And she'll be left plucking fragments from her eternal flesh.

There's a small joy in knowing you'll be her effacer.

The one to put an end to 2,000 years of pretend.

"And then he was all like "You know?" and I was like "Whatever" and he was-"

"Draculaura, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turns to face you, your smile is a crushing weight. On her shoulders crave. You throw your head back and laugh. Laughing at how little she's changed since you shared a desk in class. Since your most eminent concern was fearleading practice and algebra tests. Draculaura should laugh too, this she knows. Yet she remains distracted by your neck and all the glory it holds.

Just a small bite won't hurt...

☾🐾☽Clawdeen Wolf☾🐾☽

Clawdeen is protective to a fault. A trait she could never identify as innate or habit. Still, the urge to stalk you persists. Pricking away at her fur like wolfsbane.

Clawdeen's been brought up to believe in legacy, to worship the moon and the stars and their maker. Ancient things have a way of lasting lifetimes. She knows this now, finds its evidence when she unravels her family, her pack, herself...you. Her kind has been known to nurture those they love, to birth and raise every great warrior. She ponders again if this was originally encrypted in their blood or if her species picked it up throughout the years.

All she knows is that something inside her awakens when she sees you. A testament to an ancient love, long since stifled under sand and snow.

She wonders if that's what she's done with you all these years. If, in her own way, she's raised you to become some sort of warrior, a great beast living amongst subsidiary.

The two of you sit beside the bay window. Her newest sketchbook draped across her lap. You lean in resting your head on her shoulder, listening as she explains the inspiration behind each design.

You feel like you've been mauled. A piece of you thrown in every direction. Only to morph into the creations of your hunter. "You remember your first design?" you ask, closing your eyes to still the world. "Wasn't that when we wrapped Howleen in a red blanket and my mom's scarf?" Her claws prick her upper lip as she stifles a giggle. "And made her walk around the house like it was a Scaris runway" You add, relishing in the bygone recollection.

Your childhood memories together are coated in ichor. Jejune days

when you'd watch her tumble over herself trying to be everything she could never be. Even back then, you'd known something was amiss with the world. Seen the ancient wolf that lay dormant within her. felt its bonds call out to you, pulling you in deeper. You'd cling to her like a frightened child to a teddy bear.

But you're older now. Instead of the scared child, you've turned into the monster under the bed. Funny how everyone's heritage catches up with them at some point. Even when you grow unaware of its presence. Legacy still tends to echo in your bones. You're both the same in that regard.

"I can never tell if I'm alive or dead." You tell her one night.

"Neither" Clawdeen's voice is rigid, stiff. She can feel your awakening and rebirth. It sings in her head, more vital than a howl. "creatures like us don't die so easily. We only transform." She remembers the legends, the wars, they rattle in her bones sending shivers up her spine. Neither of you have ever died. You've survived every tribulation.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" you reply, Clawdeen notes the embers that burn behind your eyes. How they spread across your body like a wildfire.

"What doesn't kill me, simply gives me a reason to kill it" She swears she sees the moon flicker in retort.

Clawdeen slits her throat with her claws.

Choking on moondust and half-fallen stars.

Her father once told her heritage is everything before giving her a golden ring fashioned as a wolf's head. She still doesn't know what he means.

She knows her kind was born from misplaced love.

She's just glad your fates are entwined.

"Someday you'll have red eyes." You trace your thumb over her lashes as you speak. Trailing down to play with her curls. She knows what you mean. Oh how, she wants to devour the hope you offer so freely. Rip it from your heart and feel it pulsing under her fangs. Maybe then her stars will align and she'll truly understand what she is.

Clawdeen's feelings grow teeth, gnawing at her carnivorously as she pulls you close. Muttering a 'thanks' as if it holds the weight of the world. There's comfort in the thought that she's molded you. Helped nourish your flames until they grew so potent. She's ever only been the middle child of the moon. But with you, she feels like so much more. Like something celestial, something ancient. An heirloom made of blood and moonrock.

Above you the clouds part. Giving way to the full moon.

₊˚.༄Lagoona Blue₊˚.༄

The air in her lungs feels synthetic, dry. She chokes off the sand and ozone, blinded by the unfiltered light, leaving burns on her frail, scaled, skin. She wonders if this is how a fish feels as it's being reeled on land. She wonders if she's any different now.

Her heart hammers when she sees you, cracking her ribs in hysteria.

Water lilies bloom from their marrow, she counts them just to distract from the stars burning in your eyes. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, gnawing the pink flesh like a shark does its prey.

Her eyes burn when she catches a glimpse of you by the pond. Gazing conflicted at three-eyed frogs. She can't help but see you as a cacophony of unmarked graves. Too many ghosts linger across your body, they're prints evident in the afternoon sun.

You leave a water lily behind her ear as you brush past her in the hallway. She thinks your perfection is exaggerated, artificial like the air. The kind daydreaming divers pray to find in rogue oysters. Lagoona is sure you're the last of your kind. An endangered creature too proud to ask for help. She clumsily fingers the flower's petals. The wave of nostalgia that invades, has her gasping for air.

The ocean she once called home is overrun by rot. She too is infected by the pollution that plugs her gills. In her dreams, she treads through clean oceans, webbed fingers entwined with yours. There is no corrosion here, no death. Just you and her and everything that entails the definition of good. When she wakes up she notices that her gills are falling one by one. Pastel blue glints scattered, floating across her bed like the empty husks of sea stars.

She too is the last of her kind.

She too is destined to perish in agony.

She wonders if you hear her tears. Hear them fall into the abyssal sea. Feel their reverberations as they create rings on the surface. She can't expect such a thing from you. You're in your own world struggling with your own scars. You left her another flower today, nymphoides indica, she doesn't understand what you're trying to tell her.

The pond has started to bleed too. Its decaying scent is pungent from miles away.

has it bled into her?

Is she infected too?

You're there again today, worlds apart yet close enough to touch. Her body stiffens as she kneels next to you. Desperate for your attention, desperate for you to tell her what she is. Maybe, just maybe she can confess her love in time to share a grave with you.

"I used to be so beautiful.." Your voice sounds evasive. A final cry for help before the ocean consumes you. Your reflection in the pond is muddled over. A glitch in reality, something Frankie would have more experience with. "you still are mate…you still are" Her words are earnest, yet she doubts they bring you solace. "If it's any consolation, I'm polluted too..". You laugh so condescending it makes her stomach churn. She rolls the words in her mouth again, tasting them for misunderstandings.

"We're all polluted Lagoona. We always have been."

You're made of one too many pieces, all doused in poison. You rearrange the water lilies on her head. Your fingers feel like home threading through her hair. "The last of our kind." Lagoona giggles, her body is growing dryer, desperate, the moisturizer and hydration station have long since stopped working. Now she awaits the poison to take over fully. You're her memento mori another helpless creature awaiting death.

And yet, to her, you're still as radiant as the first day she met you.

Lagoona's grave will be in the sea. It's a last wish one you decide to honor. You kiss her on the cheek as she turns to you. Body half submerged in her home. She hugs you, with all the longing her frail corpse can muster. It's only too late when you notice that you too are being submerged. Dragged into the eternal depths. Lagoona refuses to part with you. This is her final gift, the last present she will give you. A quick and painless death. One with a comforting presence.

Her father used to tell her strange tales of bizarre men who'd come to their ancestrial home, seeking answers far too advanced for them. She wonders if she's had the answers all along. Maybe she just had to look a little deeper.

It doesn't matter now. For her final breaths, she is at peace. She is content to end like this. With you in her arms.

𓂀𓆣☥Cleo De Nile☥𓆣𓂀

Cleo likes to think she's come a long way from her former self. No longer an autocrat cheerleader with stary eyes and a need to be worshipped.

She likes to think she's filled out the role of queen, of sovereign, of absolute.

She's done her dynasty proud...

Shattered and transformed herself into the perfect vessel.

It's not until she catches her rogue reflection in the gleam of your eyes, that she realizes she's still the same. Eons have passed yet Cleo still remains the same frail cowardly daughter bearing the burden of the D'Nile name.

You look every bit a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. You've grown to fill the role you never knew you had.

Cleo bleeds gold. She always has.

Little did she know, you did too.

You always had.

There's a crushing weight, something that makes her long for entombment. "I wish I were a mere child once more." her tone is sand on sand. So faint you think it nothing more than a mirage of sound. Her head lays on your lap bleeding out her sins as she prays for the sun to melt her. Feeble, unstable thing she is. Hailing from a feeble unstable place.

Maybe it would do you both some good to forgo the past. To embrace a thundering, grotesque future. Maybe it's time to retire the thrones and gold bangles. Maybe it's time to depart.

she laughs at such a preposterous notion.

Cleo's Icoffine lays in a pool of shards and wires and golden beads. Her bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep, tugging you closer until the scent of spices and flora became overbearing. "it's...okay" you lie through the rage bubbling in your throat. Through the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. "It's not-it's...it's never been okay", the words feel like boulders crushing her bones. turning her body and bandages back to dust.

You've known Cleo to always wear a broken crown. Funny how, after a millennia, the cracks still keep growing. Only now they bleed into her corpse, cut through bandages, and aim for the heart. You want to wipe her tears away. To whisper glory and purpose into her bejeweled ears.

Cleo lies on the golden floor. It's cold, frigid, she doesn't remember gold to be so unwelcoming, so petrifying. You pull her hand to your heart, hovering above her. Watching as she melts and hardens in the same breath.

"Allow me the pleasure of death once more. Allow me the luxury of being the only monster you ever have to know." Cleo doesn't remember missing her sarcophagi so much. Her lungs fill with broken promises as her eyes sting from mulish obsoletes. "I've been so blind for so long." She confesses, free hand fiddling with the jewels on her blouse. Running them along her nails waiting to see which will scratch first. "As have I, there's no need to-" her voice is harsh as she sits up. The undead rising from its bejeweled grave. Her hands cup your face. She tries to be gentle, to cradle you like a flower petal. "I'm-I-" her breath hitches as her fractured mind screams. "I hate myself all so very much. Yet I love you with every bit of the heart I thought I lost all those millennia ago."

Chaos has a way of squirming through her veins.

Her dreams are tainted in rubies, seeing you lying in the sand.

The noise above is defining. She hates that she's not used to it by now.

It can't be fair.

The world can't take you from her.

You're the only lifeline she has left.

The only hope that remains.

You tell Cleo you want to die one starless night, she understands the sentiment. You don't know why that makes you cry. Her lips leave phantom kisses across your eyelids. Spilling gold pleated secretes into your skin. Cleo wishes she kept you entombed next to her, rotting away far from every disaster. Yet she knows she can't, not now at least. You've morphed her into her purpose better than her omnipotent father and cruel sister ever could. With you by her side, she's truly become a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. While you rein above her, some all-knowing creature who she can't help but worship.

Maybe someday, decades from now.

The love you share will be dethroned

How unlikely such a feat seems.

Taglist: @hadesnewpersephone @feedmestraycats @deathangelraven @itotallysleepenough @yuuka29 @umgatochamadopercyval

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 2 months ago

Text

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat”

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies.

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”.

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat”

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box.

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago”

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs.

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss.

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there.

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there.

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in.

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“

You’re fuming.

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare.

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?”

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though”

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away.

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously.

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling.

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties.

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating.

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably.

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time.

Terrible combination.

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude.

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering.

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate.

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words.

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place.

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here”

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly.

You immediately look up. “Nothing”

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?”

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit”

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right.

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin.

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking”

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his.

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess”

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x you #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #one shot #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu

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absurdthirst · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024: October 3rd

Day 3: Sixty-nine // Public Sex // Pet Play

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy/post partum baby body, new mom!reader, slight voyeurism, horny Frankie, face sitting, oral (male and female receiving), mentions of anilingus, cum swallowing

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Fuck baby, c’mere.” You can hear the lust dripping from his voice, making you smirk slightly, the ego boost is something that you need right now when you haven’t been feeling the sexiest. Motherhood sometimes takes it out of you. Instead of lingerie, you live in leggings and faded Army t-shirts that are riddled with spit up stains. You turn around to see Frankie on the bed, naked and completely hard for you, his dark eyes greedily drinking in your own nude body.

You hadn’t expected him to be in the bedroom when you got out of the shower, but it’s obvious he’s been waiting on you. Waiting and anticipating. You bite your lip, eyes sliding down the slightly less in shape physique of your husband. Despite his own hang ups, he’s only grown sexier in your eyes, through the best shape of his life in the military to the now softer build. He’s still strong, still capable and that makes him even more appealing.

“I take it you want something?” You tease, eyeing his cock as it twitches. He’s always been able to make you laugh or moan by flexing his cock when he’s hard.

“I want you to come sit on my face.” He snorts, patting his cheek and smirking at you. “Then if you want, you can sit on my cock.”

It’s a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “If you’re licking my pussy, then I want to be sucking your cock.” You counter, making the momentary frown when you shake your head immediately turn into a quick nod and a beaming grin. “Deal.” He grunts, pushing down the bed so that you can get into position.

His hands are greedy, pulling you back and making you gasp and giggle when you nearly fall flat on your face when he throws you off balance. Making you slap his thigh and huff as you look over your shoulder, halfway across his body. “You ass.” You huff, making him chuckle.

“No, your ass.” He groans, reaching for your hips again and grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “I love it.” He has always been an ass man and he never misses an opportunity to touch it.

Getting into position is never sexy. There’s almost small grunts and adjustments to where your legs are comfortable and not pressing against the headboard. You apologize a couple of times when Frankie grunts, his shoulder taking your knee a little harder than anticipated. Finally hovering over his face, even though it always makes you self conscious in the beginning.

It doesn’t bother Francisco. His eyes are focused on you and his cock is twitching and already starting to dribble just a little bit of precum, pooling around the foreskin and beaded up gorgeously.

“Fuck, look at that pussy.” He never fails to make you feel like he could live off your cunt. Always wanting to eat you out, never making you feel like it’s a chore to him. For him it’s a reward, a gift you give him when you let him devour you and makes you soak the bottom of his chin and mouth.

In the same way, you love sucking Frankie’s cock. Hearing the moans and the slightly desperate whine that you can pull from him as you swallow his length down and drip when he forgets to stay still and chokes you slightly.

Your fingers wrap around his length, smiling when you feel his pulse in your hand and wiggle your hips back as you lean down. Rolling the protective skin that covers the head and revealing the sensitive skin, already flush with need and begging for your attention.

The first lick is always a tease, both of you groaning and your own hips push back insistently when his warm breath washes over your wet folds, his own chuckle a little smug because he knows that if he holds out, you will be begging for his tongue. Not that he would ever deny you, he’s too greedy for your taste, for the warm musk of your cunt to fill his senses and thoughts.

Your tongue is fluttering around the head of his cock, lapping at the beads of precum when he takes his first sample of your cunt, making your eyes roll back at the wet heat and moan against him. His own grunt of approval is one you always listen for, even when you’ve just stepped out of the shower. That’s just your own personal issues, something that he scoffs at every time he wants to go down on you when you are hot and sweaty. He doesn’t give a shit.

Once it’s begun, both of you quickly descend into madness. Every flick of his tongue pushes your own need to make him moan, your throat opening and taking him deeper. Loving how he chokes into your folds when you swallow around him.

The sounds are low, vibrating around you both as they are muffled by the tasks you are eagerly partaking in. Frankie is thick and it always makes your jaw ache to blow him, but there is no way you will give up. You love how he fills your throat and blocks the air as he twitches. The subtle gasps that he tries to hide by pushing his tongue inside you when he feels your moans vibrate around him.

You both love to give pleasure to the other, making this the ultimate indulgence. It becomes a race, to see who can make the other break again. Once your jaw stops popping every time you take him deep into your mouth, you increase the pace. Greedy as you bob your head and reach down to roll his balls gently in your fingers and make him keen in pleasure.

Frankie is filthy when he eats your pussy. Sloppy and thorough. There is no part of your sex that he won’t shower in attention. Licking you from the top of your clit right up to your puckered hole, he licks and flicks his tongue against the spots that have your grinding back onto him. Wanting you to smother him with your cunt and if he dies, well, he would just die happy.

Rocking on his face, both at the encouragement of his hands as he guides you and from your eagerness to suck his cock down, you both rocket the other towards orgasm, increasing the pressure around his length and bucking back when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Muffled curses can barely be heard, but each one of you feels them, adding to the knotting coil in your belly when Frankie pulls his mouth away from your clit long enough to moan your name before he is diving back into you.

Years together has given you the keys to making sure the other cums. Knowing how he reacts and what he loves, where he knows your body just as intimately. Your jaw goes slack when he pushes his fingers deep inside you and presses them just right, your toes curling and your hips rolling back. Only to pull off his cock with a pop and spit on it to wrap your hand around the base and start to pump him while you gobble him down again.

You feel like you are losing your mind. So close to cumming while trying to make sure that he is worked up to that peak. Feeling him get even harder every time you swallow him down, the strength of his hands nearly bruising as he holds you in the best position to attack your cunt.

It’s coiling in your belly, tight and explosive, only taking one more flick of his tongue before you are keening around his cock. Body shaking and you absorb every pleased moan as you soak his face.

Frankie is the type that only lets go after you’ve been satisfied so the pulling down of his hips is the only warning you get before he starts to flood your mouth. Ropes of his salty seed fill your mouth, making you gulp down as much as you can as it spills out the sides of your mouth. Throbbing wonderfully on your tongue and muffling your whines as his continues to take you apart with every pass through your sensitive folds.

Neither one of you stops until the other is squirming away, both panting when you pull away and there is that brief second before the post orgasm giggles begin. Shifting off of him and turning around to see his wet, smiling face and despite the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, leaning into kiss him. Curling into his body and snuggling against him right as the baby starts to cry. “Fuck.” Frankie chuckles. “At least we got it in.” He snorts, amused by that fact and relaxed. He’s always happy when you both get to pleasure each other with a sixty-nine.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #absurdthirst kinktober #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fanfiction #catfish morales x reader

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wardenparker · 4 months ago

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The Stars Re-Align, part 1

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.1k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Starts out as Santiago x reader. Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mentions of military service (obviously), glancing mention of Tom's death, past drug use, off-page abusive relationship, panic attacks, complicated relationships, family drama. Summary: When your daughter and your boyfriend talk you into having a birthday party, you are not prepared for all of the surprises that come your way. Notes: A little love triangle and 'one that got away' vibe for your Feral Frankie Friday!

“Rachel!” Calling from the kitchen is an old, unbreakable habit by now, but dinner is almost ready and you know your daughter is in the living room studying. She has plans with her boyfriend tonight which means she’s getting her reading out of the way, and you’re proud of her for having such good habits and steady resolve. It’s not at all what you were like at her age, and you’ve worked hard to make sure that she has opportunities that you never could have. Being a young single mom was rough, but every second you have with your little-girl-turned-young-woman is worth it. “Supper’s ready, honey. Find your bookmark!”

“Sure thing!” There’s no point in reminding you that her book is a digital copy, no bookmark needed, but she dutifully saves the spot and closes her laptop. “It smells good.” She compliments, walking into the kitchen and over to the fridge to bust out the bottle of wine that had become a habit with dinner since high school. Nothing fancy, just a cheap sangria, but it was a ritual that both mom and daughter enjoyed. “Are you going out with Santiago tonight?” She asks as she gets down the glasses to pour.

“He might come over to watch a movie since you’re going out.” Your two-month-old relationship isn’t deeply committed or deeply anything yet, really, but you like him. He’s attentive, handsome, and funny, and deeply — okay there’s one deeply — good in bed. “Do you want the good parmesan, or the shaker can? We have both.” Spaghetti with onions, peppers, and sausage isn’t necessarily gourmet, but it’s a family staple. Something your dad used to make you when you were growing up in New York City and you have made for your daughter her whole life afterwards.

“Good parmesan.” She hums. “Let’s be fancy tonight.” Bringing the glasses over to the small kitchen table, she moves on to set out the silverware. A chore when she was younger, it’s now just become habit when you eat together. ‘Working together as a team’ is how you always phrased it and it’s something she loves about her relationship with you now. You’re a team. “I’m going to stay at Ben’s tonight, so you and Santiago can have wild sex.”

“Be safe.” She’s twenty-four, so you’re not going to quibble about her sleeping over with her boyfriend, but you do give her a meaningful look when you set down the plates on the table. “Don’t make me a grandmother and I won’t make you a sister.”

Rachel laughs, it’s the same statement you have been using since she was first dating boys after puberty. “But Mom!” She pouts playfully. “I really want a baby sister!”

“Think I’m getting a little too old for that option, honey,” you huff, but laugh anyway. “Ask Santa for one at Christmas.”

She grins at you, bringing over the basket of breadsticks that are an Olive Garden copycat. Plain frozen ones that you brush with butter and garlic salt. So many of the meals you have together are mocks of the restaurant meals she had wanted when she was younger and you couldn’t afford. As an adult, it’s humbling to see the lengths you went to in order to make her happy.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, though, right?” Though you typically aren’t one to make a big deal out of such things, Santiago had offhandedly mentioned to your daughter a few weeks ago that it was a shame you weren’t doing anything for your birthday and Rachel had jumped on board with talking you into a party. The backyard barbecue will be small, but a chance to meet your boyfriend’s friends and have a few of your own friends from work come over. “It was half your idea, after all.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be there.” She promises. “Oh, is it okay if I bring Ben?” She asks. “He’s got another party to go to if not, but he said he would rather spend time with me.”

“Yes, you can bring Ben.” He’s a few years older than Rachel and has had a very different life experience, but you like Ben Miller. He’s doing his best to make an honest way in the world and he treats Rachel with love and respect. And probably in ways that you want to know absolutely nothing about. “There’s going to be plenty of food. Santiago and I are managing that end.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Of course you are cooking for your own party.” She huffs.

“Get sassy with me and I’ll send every stitch of leftovers home with other people,” you threaten, though it’s hollow and comes with laughter.

“Not like you won’t make enough to still bring home food.” She shoots back with a grin. If there was ever a party, you always made too much food. It might be pasta salad, but you and she would be eating it for a solid week after everyone had gone home.

“Nothing fancy,” you assure her even though you know she’s right. “Burgers and dogs. And veggie burgers for the few people that skip red meat. All the accoutrements. Santiago is in charge of the grill, which he’s very happy about. And I’m making that cheese dip you like along with my guac. Salsa is coming out of a jar despite protests.”

“Let Ben bring the salsa.” She volunteers immediately with a grin. “He’s got some recipe he got from friends he used to serve with.” She explains. “He was going to make it for their party but we can hijack it and bring it to yours.”

“Deal.” That’s one more thing off your checklist and you’re fine with that. “And the cake is coming from an actual bakery, not a supermarket. I do listen to your protests most of the time.”

“The buttercream is far superior.” She huffs happily and lifts her glass when you are both sitting down at the table. “To a wonderful birthday weekend.” She offers. “One you never forget.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You tap your glass against hers and smile. “Forty-two feels like it will be a good one.”

******

“We have the cake, the burgers are all ready to throw on the grill. Fish is bringing the baked beans, Ironhead is bringing the potato salad and you said Rach’s boyfriend is going to bring the salsa?” He arches a brow in concern. “What do you know about this guy? Is it good salsa? Because I’m going to be offended if it’s Pace.”

“I was told he has a recipe from somebody he served with.” The Pace is in its jars in the cupboard where Santiago can’t be offended by it, and you slip past him to look at your checklist taped to the cupboards one more time. “Coleslaw is made, cheese dip is made, and you filled up the outside fridge last night so that’s all set. I think we’re okay. The last thing is the guac and that only makes a few minutes.”

Santiago slides behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach and hums. “So we have time to go back to the bedroom?” He asks playfully, even if he would haul you back there if you said yes.

“Only if you’re planning on disappointing me,” you tease, knowing he never has and never would. Not on purpose. Still, you twist to kiss away the pout that has certainly formed there. “People are going to be here any minute.”

“We could always tell them to go the fuck away.” He laughs as he suggests it and then the doorbell peels out right afterwards. “That’ll be Ironhead.” He predicts. “Will’s always early.”

“Is that his real name? Will?” You call back when Santiago goes to open the door. You can make guacamole with your eyes closed due to the fact that you’ve had this recipe longer than your daughter has been alive, and you go to the fridge to get the ingredients.

“Yeah!” He calls back over his shoulder before he opens the door to find his friend on the doorstep. The smiles are genuine, almost guilty considering the shit they’ve gone through for the past five months since South America. Grief and sorrow have pulled at them, but it also has finally started to let them live again. “You made it!”

“Of course I did. You didn’t think I’d miss out on seeing your ass do something domestic, did you?” Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller slaps Pope’s shoulder. “Nice place she’s got. You tried to move in yet?”

Pope chuckles quietly and shrugs. “Maybe in another month.” He jokes. “Gotta get in good with the kid first.”

“Right, the kid.” With another friendly slap, Will Miller steps inside the house. It’s well-appointed, clean, and obviously loved. “She coming today?” He thinks so, but he can’t remember. Although a barbecue and pool party seems like a kid thing. But somehow Will remembers the kid not being kid. Teenager? He can’t remember now.

“She spent the night with her boyfriend, but she’ll be here.” Pope nods. “Although she’s already said she won’t call me daddy but I can take her for ice cream.”

“Nobody ought to be calling you ‘Daddy’,” Ironhead huffs.

Santiago laughs and shrugs. “You’re right.” He admits, knowing that he’s not father material. One of the reasons you were an attractive option was that your kid was grown. He didn’t have to play daddy, although from what he’s understood, the dad was your first love and was too immature to stick around. “Benny didn’t ride with you?”

“His girlfriend’s got a family thing today.” Will shrugs slightly, but honestly he’s impressed. His kid brother is crazy about this girl. It’s six months in and he’s starting to use some very committed language — which is fucking thrilling to Will as it signals Benny finally starting to grow up where sex and relationships are concerned. “He’s gonna come by later.”

“That’s good. I want him to come and have a few beers. Fish should be here shortly.” Pope will be happy to see everyone, it’s better than just checking in and having a beer. This will be a good time to really catch up. “How’s things with Marie?” He asks Will softly, knowing that Frank has been a little closed mouth about things between him and his lady. South America hadn’t been great for their relationship, although no one really likes her, she’s the one who was dabbling in drugs and got Fish hooked on coke.

“She was throwing some fit last night about Fish being out with another woman.” Which is obviously bullshit. Frankie would never step out on the mother of his child. But living in the apartment next to Frankie and Marie means he overhears plenty of bullshit. “All he was doing was asking if she wanted to come today. So who knows what kind of mood he’ll show up in.”

“Shit.” Pope sighs and shakes his head as he escorts Will though the living room and towards the kitchen where you are. “He needs to just bite the bullet and leave her.”

“We all know that. But it’s Fish. Too loyal for his own fucking good.” Will hadn’t been expecting to see anyone standing in the kitchen, let alone you, and he clears his throat. “Um—sorry, ma’am. Soldier’s habit,” he apologizes.

“It’s fine,” you promise him, actually laughing at the sheer display of manners. “I survived my daughter’s teenage years. You want to know who swears more than soldiers? Teenage girls.”

It’s been a long goddamn time since Will has been around teenage girls, but he just nods politely and offers his hand. “Will Miller.” He introduces himself. “Santiago has talked you up to be some kind of Wonder Woman, and it looks like he was underestimating your worth.”

"That's very kind of you, Will." You take his hand and introduce yourself easily enough, reflecting momentarily that Santiago has pretty friends. Blonde and blue-eyed isn't your type, but good looking is good looking. "Would you mind helping us get the last few things outside? And the pool is open, I hope Santiago told everyone."

“Absolutely, ma’am.” Like any good solider, Will is going to follow orders and he immediately picks up the heavier items to carry outside. “You have a beautiful home.”

"Thank you." It's something you worked hard for, and you continue to work hard for every day. Everything in your life has been to make sure your daughter is healthy, happy, and well taken care of. It was a lucky break that you got a well-paying job in your field to boot. "And you don't have to call me ma'am. Though I appreciate the manners."

“We need to give her a nickname before Taz does.” Will snorts.

"Taz?" You haven't heard that name before, and it piques your interest as Santiago helps you set things out on the table on the deck.

Will chuckles. “Youngest in our team.” He explains. “Short for Tasmanian Devil. Brother’s like a whirlwind of stirring up shit.”

"Got it." The Army nickname thing had taken you a second to get used to, but you're on board now. It's a brotherhood thing, and you like that Santiago has such a tightknit group of friends still. It's not something you've really had much of in your life, so you're glad to see when it happens for people you care about it. "Well, I told Santiago, but whenever your friends get here just let them into the backyard. The bathroom is off the living room, but everything else worth getting at is outside."

“Yes ma’am.” He smirks slightly when he says that again before disappearing out of the sliding glass doors.

"Are all your friends polite and helpful?" You glance back at the man you've been seeing for the last few months and crack a smile. "I'm glad you invited them. It's about time we started to meet each other's friends."

“Until they are assholes.” He jokes, giving you a bittersweet smile. “We lost a friend half a year ago and it seems like we’ve had a hard time getting back in the routine. Thought this might be the little jolt we needed.”

"Then we'll make sure it's a fantastic day." He hasn't confided too much about his years in the service or about where he was before moving back to Florida a few months ago, but this is probably a large part of the reason why. Either way, you slip your arms around him for a comforting hug. It's the least you can do, when he's gone through something terrible and is willing to open about it a little.

“It’s your day.” He protests, turning and kissing your lips. “It’s supposed to be good for you, not me. We will have a few drinks, have a few laughs and then…” He waggles his brows. “Well kick everyone out and I’ll make you cum until you pass out.”

The hum that forms in the back of your throat is as pleased as it is dirty, and you kiss him once more before your doorbell rings again. "I'll get it," you nudge his nose with yours and step back, albeit reluctantly. "Go hang out with your friend."

People trickle in little by little. Friends from work, mostly, and the one mom from Rachel's school days that you stayed friends with despite Rachel and her son never actually having been friends. Eventually the text comes through from your daughter that she's a few minutes away and that makes you smile brighter than just about anything else today.

Pope pulls out his phone and texts Frankie, wondering when he’s coming – or if he’s going to come at all. He is worried about him, knowing that he’s under a lot of pressure. Marie blames him for losing his license and then going down to South America for two weeks when it was only supposed to be one. He couldn’t even tell her what happened and that was causing issues.

Had to wait for the babysitter. On my way now. Says the text that comes through a few minutes later, but there is a temporary distraction from waiting for Catfish: Rachel's car pulls up and parks outside the house, expelling both your daughter and her boyfriend onto the front lawn.

“Come on, Ben.” Rachel grabs his hand and rushes him towards the door. They are running behind because of the pre-party activities he had talked her into and while she’s not regretting that in the least, she wants to get inside and wish you happy birthday.

“Sounds like everybody’s out back, baby,” he steers her toward the fence surrounding the backyard instead of the front door, but when that brings him closer to the actual driveway of his girlfriend’s house he frowns — deeply — in confusion. He shouldn’t recognize the two vehicles sitting behind Rachel’s car and her mother’s, but there they are: Pope’s slick vintage Corvette right next to Will’s jacked up picked up truck. There’s no denying the two vehicles, he’s seen them together far too often. “The hell?” Benny breathes, but Rachel doesn’t hear him. She’s too excited to see her mom and moving them through the gate before he can hang back to do a double take at the cars.

“Mom!” Pope looks up at soon as he hears a familiar happy cry but then he’s immediately frowning. Watching as Ben Miller moves through the fence gate with Rachel. “What the fuck?”

“I told you she was bringing her boyfriend, didn’t I?” Santiago’s level of confusion is confusing in its own right, but you ignore it in favor of meeting your daughter at the edge of the porch to give her a massive hug. “Hey sweet pea!”

It helps that Benny looks just as stunned as Pope does, Will stopping short when he sees his younger brother and doesn’t hesitate to call out. “You made it!” He huffs out and shaking his head at his brother’s fickleness. “Girlfriend’s family already kick you out?”

“Nooo…” Benny blinks against the sunlight, having left his sunglasses in his truck. “You’re at the wrong party, assholes.”

The ball busting smirk immediately slides off of Will’s face, due to the knowledge that there is no way they could be at the wrong party. “Benny…” He glances at a stunned Pope and sighs heavily. “We’re at the right party.”

It only takes about a second more, but by the time Benny breathes “Ohhh shit.” He’s also cackling with laughter. “Are you telling me—” The younger Miller brother looks around and drops his voice for the sake of not embarrassing the girl he adores. “Are you telling me Pope is banging my girl’s mom?”

Will snorts and shakes his head. “Looks like.” He agrees quietly. “Hell of a birthday surprise.” He hopes that it won’t change your daughter’s mind on dating him, Rachel has been fantastic for Ben.

“Fuck….” Pope snickers quietly, shaking his head at the irony. He should probably go spell this out for you so you don’t take it the wrong way. No one knew. Even after hearing about Benny’s girlfriend for months, only Will and Fish had met her so far.

Rachel pulls back and gives you a beaming smile. “Happy Birthday Mom.” She hums, winking at you. “Santiago spend the night last night since I was with Ben?” She’s not been paying attention to the guys, too focused on you.

“We fell asleep watching our second movie.” It’s mostly true — true enough that you can play it off as innocent because you did technically nod off during the second movie — but the empty bowl of popcorn and wine glasses in the living room had waited until this morning to be cleared away once you hauled each other off to bed. “Did Ben have a fight last night or did you guys just go out?”

“No fight.” She shakes her head. “Next weekend, so we just got to go out. Although he wants to know if you would like to come to the fight.” You’ve met Benny and she thinks you like him, but she wants you to get to know him better. Which is why she had suggested they go to your party today instead of his friends’.

“If you want me to.” You don’t feel too excited to watch your daughter’s boyfriend get beat up, but you do want to get to know him better. Rach is so obviously head over heels for him.

“It’s up to you.” She smiles and looks back at Ben, curious to find Will here. “Um— what’s his brother doing here?”

“Whose brother?” Turning to follow her eyes, your head tilts slightly in interest. Santiago and Will are deep in conversation with Benny already. “That’s one of Santiago’s friends. Will.”

“Mom…” Rachel’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s Will Miller…Benny’s older brother.”

“That…” You swallow, slowly registering the situation as you watch the men interact. “That makes things interesting…” You’re dating a man who served with your daughter’s boyfriend…this is going to get complicated…

“Oh god.” Rachel bites her lip as Benny and Pope quickly break away and come over to the two of you. “So…”

“So, this is interesting.” You repeat the phrase almost disbelieving.

“Kind of a funny coincidence, huh?” Benny wraps his arms around Rachel and plants a kiss in her hair.

“I didn’t know.” Rachel promises you with a small shake of her head. “Shit, Ben. I can’t believe I didn’t know it.”

“I think I know why.” You observe, clearing your throat and accepting the comfort of Santiago’s arm around your waist as you look up (and up) at Ben. “I’m going to guess that your nickname while you were serving together was Taz?”

“Yeah.” Benny nods and looks back between all the other men. “Oh fuck, we’ve been just using our nicknames and they didn’t know.” He groans. "I'm sorry baby." He turns to Rachel with an apologetic look. "Pope was talking about his new girl and spending as much time as possible with her, so he missed the last fight you were at."

“It’s a little unconventional,” you admit, wondering what Santiago thinks of all this. “But not terrible, right?” As close in age as you and Rachel are, it wouldn’t be the first time you have had mutual friends. Just the first time you were ever dating mutual friends.

"He's a good guy." Pope assures you, like it's the first time you've met Benny. "And we can kick his ass if needed."

Benny snorts and rolls his eyes. "You wish, old man."

“Rach?” Your fingers run through her loose curls gently and you give her a questioning look. While this isn’t the day you want to have — after all, you do like Santiago — it’s ultimately up to her. Everything is and always has been in your life, and you made that decision for a reason.

"I don't think that you need to stop seeing Santiago just because he knows Ben." She rationalizes. "I think it's fine, what do you think?"

“Just as long as you’re comfortable with it.” That goes for the men involved, too. But they don’t seem to mind beyond being apologetic.

Rachel snorts and shrugs. "Just as long as they don't share sex stories." She giggles and shoots Santiago a smirk. "And we won't either."

“I was not planning on it, sweet pea.” You might be close, but that’s a step too far even for you. “Never ever.”

Agreeing completely, she walks up to Pope and gives him a hug. "So if you make my mom cry, I'll have my boyfriend beat you up." She teases.

“Got it.” She’s a grown woman, but he can’t resist the urge to mess with her thick hair, watching her face wrinkle in disapproval before she moves back to Benny, who smooths the familiar curls with care. “Now we just need Catfish to get here and we’ll have everybody.”

"I'm here!" A hand appears over the fence before he opens it, hat pulled low, and he grunts when he picks up the cooler full of ice and beer that he had stopped and picked up on the way. "Sorry I'm late."

“Fish!” Benny kisses the side of Rachel’s head before peeling off to grab the cooler from him and take it to the porch so his friend can catch his breath. He doesn’t see the tick in the tilt of your head or the way your eyes widen just a second later.

'Fish', or Francisco Morales, looks up and smirks at Benny when he grabs the cooler. Thankful, although he wouldn't make too much of a fuss about it. Getting older sucked and he's still feeling the effects of that workout he helped the other man do just two days ago when his normal sparring partner was sick. "'Bout time you made yourself useful." He huffs playfully and looking towards Pope to wave. Freezing with his arm halfway up in greeting when he sees someone that he had never expected to see before – you.

The way you shrink into yourself immediately is instinct. As much shock as anything else. But within seconds you’re stepping forward to block Rachel from view and shakily a demand an explanation. “What the shit is going on?” You hiss, though you’re not exactly sure who you’re talking to, you just don’t want to make a scene in front of your coworkers. They consider you to be such a calm, collected woman.

Frowning, Pope turns towards you, reaching out to touch your arm and stepping closer to you. "Babe— what's wrong? What are you talking about?" He follows your gaze back to Fish and he grunts in confusion. "Fish? He's another teammate. One of my best friends."

“Fuck.” Deflating on the spot, you feel like you could just collapse where you stand but that wouldn’t help the situation any. “We—we, um—know each other,” you explain quietly. “But it’s been a long time.”

Feeling like he's been kicked in the chest by one of those fucking mules, Frankie stumbles forward and murmurs your name softly. "I— what are you doing here?" He asks, frowning slightly.

“This is my house.” You wonder if Santiago even explained where he was inviting him, or if you have a nickname to their group just like they all do to each other. “I wouldn’t expect you to still remember my birthday.”

All the blood drains from his face and it falls into a wounded look. Realizing that you have to be Pope's girl. "I— remembered." He murmurs quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Seven billion people in the world. Figured someone else would have the same day too." It's almost a kick in the teeth, that comment of yours. Considering he had a fight with Marie because he had said your name this morning when he was talking to himself after waking up. You were the reason he had fought, again, with the mother of his child and she had pitched a fit and left. Making him wait on a babysitter so he could come to this party. To find out that it was for you. He's so fucking lucky that Marie isn't here. He clears his throat roughly and bites his lip. "Happy birthday, gatita." He uses the nickname from a million years ago and steps back. "I should go."

A press of overwhelming guilt and the instinct to stop him makes you reach out, grabbing his arm before you can stop yourself. “No. You shouldn’t.” You admit, even though it hurts.

"No," He shakes his head and gives you a wry smile. "I should." He sighs softly and looks over at Pope. "This is your girl, huh?" He asks, confusing the other man even more. "Keep her and take care of her." He tells him. "You'll regret it if you don't." He reaches for your hand and pries it off his arm gently, squeezing it before letting it go.

“Where’s Fish going?” Benny returns from the deck just a second too late, but just in time to watch Frankie leave again and see the bewildered looks on his friends’ faces.

"I don't fucking know." The entire day has been one big bag of surprises and Pope doesn't particularly like surprises. He turns towards you for some kind of explanation, although the nickname gatita sounds familiar, like Fish has mentioned it before. "You know Frank?"

“We grew up together.” It’s the best you can hiccup out before you take off like a shot, following Frankie through the gate. “Frankie!” He’s already down at the street, but he pauses when you call his name and it gives you time to catch up.

Waiting for you as you rush towards him, Frankie takes off his Standard Oil hat and scratches his hair. Struck by how nostalgic the moment is, waiting for you to catch up to him so many times once upon a lifetime ago. “Look, I’m sorry.” He sighs when you are closer. “I didn’t know, okay? I’m going.”

“I think you should stay.” Not as fit as you once were, you puff a little and put your arms around your waist. “We, uh—for Santiago, if nothing else. You’re his friend and I—I’m somebody you used to know.” And there is so, so much to tell him…

The idea that you might want him there makes him pause and he frowns slightly as he stares at you for a moment. “Only if you’re sure.” He still hesitates. “It’s your birthday after all.”

“It is.” And you’re not sure. You’re really not. But since he’s reappearing in your life almost twenty-five years later, the lump in your throat is winning over logic.

“Last time I saw you was on your birthday.” Frankie frowns, wondering how he could have been such a shit head back then. “Seems like the circle is complete.”

“Eighteen was a long time ago.” It was right before he left for boot camp, and you��d been pushing him to commit to you before he left. A stupid thing to do at such a young age. You know that now. But you were so stupid in love with him back then and there was so much going on.

“Yes it was.” He can admit that, biting his lip and shuffling slightly. “And I was an asshole.” He had broken his own damn heart, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Squeezing your eyes shut makes you feel like your heart is going to burst, but the universe has decided that it’s time to finally time to come clean. “I was scared. And I’m sorry.”

“I was stupid.” Frankie has so many regrets from that time of his life, just compounded over the years and he almost steps closer to you, but he doesn’t. He can’t, he doesn’t have that right anymore. “I proved you right. I didn’t come back.” The argument is still confusing in his memory, just as much as it had confused him then. You had pushed to get married before he left and he had wanted to wait. It had become a sticking point and in his stubbornness, he had broken up with you.

“You didn’t come back and you didn’t have a cell phone…and then your parents moved.” With their only child moved on, Frankie’s father had accepted a transfer upstate from the Standard Heating & Oil Co that both of your fathers worked for. “I had—I had no way to talk to you. To—to tell you—” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, surprising you since you thought you had cried every last tear you had over Frankie Morales.

“Tell me?” Frankie frowns and he does step closer, hating to see tears in your eyes again on a birthday. Especially because they seem to be because of him again. “Tell me what, gatita?”

“Fair warning.” Wiping at the corners of your eyes, you can’t quite look him in his even when you straighten out again. “You’ll hate me. And you probably should, at this point.”

“I don’t think I could hate you.” Frankie admits quietly, unable to even imagine a world where he would.

“You might.” Wiping your hands down your face and breathing out a deep, frustrated groan, you look up again to see the eyes of the boy who was your first everything looking back at you, and you crumble. “I didn’t have any way to contact you,” you repeat again, knowing you could and should have tried harder anyway. “And I was scared of losing you because — because I was pregnant.”

The way his brows pull down is instantaneous and he immediately puts his hands on his hips and twists around as he absorbs your news. “You— you were pregnant?” He chokes out, looking back at you with a wounded expression. “I— what? No? What— pregnant?”

“That’s…that’s why I was pushing you so hard to propose.” You admit, eyes cast down at the ground.

“You didn’t say a word.” Frankie shakes his head. “Why— why didn’t you tell me? If I had known—”

“I thought if I told you that you’d only run away from me faster.” Which, at eighteen years old, had seemed like pretty sound logic to you. “By the time I was scared enough to just want you there regardless, it was too late. You were…you were gone.”

“By the time—” he shakes his head, eyes wide and he swallows harshly. “What happened? Don’t— I— what are you saying?”

"I'm saying that you have a daughter." A fact which sticks in your throat now like you had tried to swallow a pinecone. "Who is smart, and kind, and headstrong, and stubborn as hell. But she's doing so well for herself that a lot of that stubbornness just slides right by."

Frankie blanks out for a minute, staring at you before he turns away. Grappling with his emotions as he bends over and tries to take a breath, groaning slightly in disbelief. “No.” He shakes his head, turning back to you. “No! Don’t tell me that!”

"I'm sorry." It isn't worth much, as apologies go, but you kneel down beside him on the grass and wonder if he'll be mad enough to strike out if you put a hand on his back. "I really am. You should have known a long time ago."

“Twenty-four,” he chokes out. “You are telling me I have a twenty-four year old daughter?” His face screws up in the regret and tears. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

"I had no way to tell you." It's a lame excuse, or at least it feels lame, and you do rest your hand on his back but it's so gentle you don't even know if he can feel it.

“Oh fuck….fuck, fuck, fuck…..” Frankie moans, closing his eyes and his fists bunch against his thighs. “I-I-I— don’t— I can’t –”

"Frankie?" His breathing sounds panicked, and you soothe one hand in circles around his back. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. Everything's okay. She—she's grown. She's raised. No one is asking you to do anything."

“I—I missed it.” He manages. “I missed everything.” Closing his eyes as he realizes that his trajectory of his life would have been vastly different if he had known.

Oh. It's the opposite. The exact opposite. He's not panicked that you're going to expect him to stay, like you thought he was. He's upset that he missed Rachel's childhood. "There's...there's still the whole rest of her life ahead."

“I— I should have been there.” He drops his head down even more. “Fuck— you must hate me. She must hate me.”

"It's my fault you didn't know. Why would I hate you?" As much as it has ever hurt to lose him, you've never actually hated him. Just missed him. Which isn't the same although they can be confused for each other. "And Rachel— Frankie, she knows the truth. That we were young and lost touch."

“Rachel.” He shakes his head, focusing on her name and it’s so goddamn familiar. “Her name is Rachel?”

"My aunt Rachel died right before she was born," you explain, wondering if he even remembers meeting your mother's sister a million and a half times at different family functions while you were together. He was always invited for every holiday.

“God.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, hating that he had been such a fucking idiot back then. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

"I am, too." More sorry than you can possibly say, but what else can you do at this point but try to move forward?

“So I managed to ruin another birthday of yours.” He pushes aside the grief and sorrow that is threatening to overwhelm him and locks it down. Compartmentalize, shutting down, it’s what he knows best. He can freak out about this later when he’s left.

"It's not ruined." It's awkward, and it's uncomfortable, and you're not really sure what to do now. But it's not ruined. "It's—it's not—I don't know what today is, but it's..." you sigh heavily and stand up again. "I don't know, Frankie. If you want to leave that's up to you. But our lives cross now, and I know...I know Rachel would want to meet you."

“Oh god. Is she— is she there? Here?” He asks, shaking his head. “Can I meet her?”

"If I wasn't going to let you meet her, I would have just kept my mouth shut about the whole thing," you needle him gently. Just wishing he could or would do as much as crack a smile. It seems desperately needed.

The huff, the quarter of a smile is almost involuntary. Almost in disbelief and he looks over at you with a heavy stare. “I want to meet her.” He tells you quietly. “If I had known, things would have been so different for us, gatita.”

"No use crying over spilled milk, I think." Twenty-four years of regret is a lot to process, but you nod in acknowledgement. Just a small motion of thanks that he is at least saying out loud what you suspected.

“Fuck.” He huffs again and uncurls his hands to wipe them on his jeans. “I’m nervous.”

"Telling you not to be seems cruel," you huff, though you're not sure what else to say. "No one planned this. No one saw this coming. It will be as much of a shock to her as it is to you. As—as it was to me to see you."

“Forty-two.” He shakes his head and looks back over at you in awe. “You don’t look a day over fucking eighteen.” It might be a small embellishment, but you look amazing and so much like the girl he has loved for so long.

"You're not so bad yourself." Santiago may be on the other side of that fence, but a part of your heart has always and will always belong to scrawny Frankie Morales from Brooklyn. Even if he isn't scrawny anymore – which is a thing you can't help but notice.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself before he nods. “We should go back.” He murmurs.

"I promise she's not scary." Although you'll understand when it is a complete shock to her. And to the others. "Just...let me tell her first? I ran after you so fast that I didn't explain to anyone else yet."

Both of you stand up and he scrubs his hands on his jeans again. “Sure, sure.” He agrees, knowing that it could be sort of a shock, even if she’s known about him her whole life.

"Remember to breathe," you advise him with a wry chuckle, even though it's good advice for you too.

“When I remember how.” Frankie snorts, slightly pacing in place as he glances towards the back yard gate.

"Come on." Nodding toward the yard, you take a step in that direction to see if it will spur him on. The urge to offer him your hand is misplaced, and you have to quell it by putting your hands in your jeans pockets. "We've kept them waiting long enough."

Frankie exhales roughly and trails along behind you, wanting you to take the lead. He has to tell you about Luna at some point, but he will do that after he meets the daughter he never knew he had.

“Sorry about that.” Once you’re on the other side of the gate again, you see Rachel standing in the midst of Santiago, Benny, and Will all looking concerned. “That was…unexpected? Shall we say?”

“Mom?” Rachel moves closer to you and frowns as her eyes slide back to where Frankie is hanging back. “Why are you upset with Fish?” She asks softly, looking back at the other three men and then back at you. “You said you knew him? When? I don’t remember you dating him.” Your dates had been few and far between, even rarer that she had met them, but she would have remembered someone called Catfish.

“I’m not upset, sweet pea. I’m just surprised.” It’s a lie, but a prudent one. You are upset, and it’s because your little slice of peace has been disturbed. But no one did that on purpose, so you’ll just have to live with it. “Why don’t we—we should talk about this inside.”

“No. Here. Now.” She has inherited her stubbornness both you and Frankie. And she’s eyeing the man she had met a few months ago and hung out with suspiciously. He looks like he’s about to be sick and she’s not above taking a baseball bat to his knees if needed, whether or not she had liked him before.

“Rach, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmur, looking around the backyard. Most people are milling about and a few are in the pool, but they obviously all know something is up.

Rachel stares at you for a minute and then she shoots Frankie a glare because you look so upset before she turns around and marches towards the house.

“You guys, too,” you decide, figuring it’s probably best to get all of this over with. Santiago is dating you, Benny is dating Rachel, and Will is bound to find everything out soon enough.

There’s not a lot of hope for him with the glare shot his way, so Frankie hangs back for a moment. Reconciling the fact that Rachel is the girl that Benny has been dating. His daughter is dating his friend. His friend who has been bragging about his girl to him. And their sex life. He’s going to throw up or punch Ben in the mouth.

Once everyone is inside, you check to make sure the bathroom is empty and close the sliding doors tightly. Everyone outside can wait. This is far more important. “Everything is okay,” you start, making sure that right off the bat Rachel knows you aren’t mad and Santiago understands you don’t hate his best friend. His best friend. Fuck. “It was just—as surprising as it was to find out Santiago and Ben are friends…this is an even bigger surprise.”

Frankie leans on the side of the wall, staring at the tip of his boot as he tries to wait for you to tell Rachel. He can’t blurt it out, she’s your kid. Not his— not really. He hasn’t done a goddamn thing to help raise her, but he has to admire the job you’ve done.

"The thing is, Rach." Blowing out a breath, you reach out for your daughter's hand and just pray she won't hate you. "You wouldn't remember when I dated Frankie. Because it was before you were born."

“Hermano.” Pope’s eyes widen and the nickname clicks. He knew he had heard it before. “Gatita? This is—” he whistles quietly. “Mierda.”

When Rachel still looks confused, you breathe deeply and try your best not to shake. Or to chicken out. "There are a lot of blanks to fill in along the way, but...sweet pea...Frankie is—" Oh god, you're going to throw up. You're absolutely going to throw up. "He's your father."

You could hear a pin drop, or a mouse fart, the room is so quiet. Every head snapping towards Frankie in judgement and he doesn’t pay them any attention, focusing on the one person right now that matters. His daughter.

"I don't understand." Rachel stands bog still, clutching your hand with eyes as wide as saucers as she looks frantically between you and Frankie. She had liked this man. He is a good friend to Ben. But now she doesn't know what to think.

“Your mom and I were high school sweethearts.” Frankie isn’t sure what you might have told her, but he’s going to tell her what he knows to be true. “More like middle school, but you know?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.” He promises. “I swear I didn’t know.”

Will sighs from the other side of the room. “Oh shit.”

"Everything I ever told you about him was the truth." You had worked hard to always be fair to Frankie when you were raising Rachel, even if it led to never telling her very much about him unless she asked. "He didn't know, and I had no way of telling him. It's been...it's been twenty-five years since we even spoke to each other. So you can understand why I was surprised to see him walk in today."

“And he’s friends with your boyfriend and mine.” There’s a note of disbelief in her voice that Frankie doesn’t blame her for.

“We were on the same team for years.” Frankie explains. “I was their pilot.”

“That’s why we lost touch,” you remind your daughter gently. “He left for boot camp.” Considering Ben isn’t the first Army boy that Rachel has dated, you have always sort of had a suspicion that she was subconsciously searching for her dad in these men. It just never occurred to you that it would actually work.

She looks at him, almost accusatory in her gaze. “Why did you never come back?” She demands. “If you loved her, why did you just walk away?”

That makes Frankie wince, and he shoves his hands in his pockets again. “Have you ever done something dumb and been too goddamn proud to admit you were wrong?” He asks quietly, and Pope, despite his own feelings about the entire situation, won’t let Frankie’s daughter twist in the wind.

“He used to talk about his gatita.” He interjects. “Regretting not making up with her and wishing he could get in contact with her.”

“It was harder back then, honey.” The gentle reminder is important, because Rachel might not have grown up in a world of luxury but she’s definitely never known a world without cell phones or social media. “When I told your grandparents that you were coming, we moved. It was just a little further outside the city, but the place was bigger and the neighborhood was safer. Your grandma found a better job and— and with neither of our families still in Brooklyn, we couldn’t have found each other. Even if your dad had come back looking for me, or tried to call our old apartment? We wouldn’t have been there.” At least she hasn’t ripped her hand out of yours yet. You’re considering that a good thing “We were kids, and we made mistakes. Very big ones. But you know he didn’t leave because he didn’t love you.”

“I would have never.” He promises, his voice thick with emotions. He shakes his head and frowns slightly. He doesn’t know why he didn’t realize who she was to him now that he knows. She looks just like a perfect combination of you and him, with your nose, thank God. But her ears curl just like his.

“Oh god…” In trying to process everything, Rachel glances up and looks at Frankie’s hat again, groaning to herself and wiping one hand at the bottom of her neck just like he does — but neither of them ever noticed the simile gesture. “I always just thought the hat was a funny coincidence,” she admits with a huff.

“My hat?” He takes it off and scrubs his hair quickly before putting it back on his head. “Had it since I was a kid.”

The Miller brothers look confused, and you offer them a wilted smile with your explanation. "Both of our fathers, Rach's grandfathers...they both worked for Standard for forever. That's how Frankie and I met."

“Oh shit.” Benny frowns slightly and moves over to Rachel’s side, squeezing her hip supportively.

"I know this is a lot." It's a lot for everyone, but you're mostly just talking to Rachel. Your whole adult life has been lived for your baby girl and now emotions are unraveling at light speed. "But nothing has to change. You're a grown woman, sweet pea. And whatever relationship you want with your Dad is up to you."

“I’ve spent time with him.” She admits quietly. “After a fight of Benny’s.” She looks back at Frankie and bites her lip. “But I’d like to get to know him as my dad.”

"I know this just got sprung on everybody," you murmur again. The fact is that right now you have a yard full of people and all you want to do is disappear under your comforter and pretend it isn't happening. "But...life throws you curveballs, right?"

“Yeah.” Frankie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling like his entire world has turned on its head. Wishing like hell he could snort a line but he promised himself he wouldn’t touch that shit again.

"We should give you guys some privacy." When Will finally speaks up, it's to motion to his brother and to Pope that maybe they should step outside. There are a lot of emotions creating tension in this room and they're not going to be made easier by having an audience.

Pope shuffles slightly, wanting to stay, but he also needs to think about this entire thing. The situation is blowing up and he doesn’t want to make things worse.

"Maybe you could throw the burgers on the grill? And we'll be out in a few minutes?" He had offered to be in charge of the grill today but that was before everything had gone to hell and now you have no idea what he's thinking. "And I promise we'll talk through everything, too."

“Of course.” He nods and doesn’t lean in to kiss you like he might have just a few minutes before walking in this house. Feeling almost guilty for the entire situation right now.

That missing kiss is enough to tell you that everything has changed. Santiago has never shied away from affection or from public displays, and this is exactly the time that a partner might have offered that kind of comfort. Whatever you end up talking to him about later, you're now prepared for him to end things. But you can't fault him for that. You had a baby with his best friend – even if you didn't know each other then.

“Baby?” Benny looks at Rachel, checking with her before he leaves.

"It's okay," she promises him, going up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'll find you when we come back out." And she's going to find a White Claw or six in the garage fridge, too. Fuck.

“Okay.” He shoots Frankie a worried look, not liking the despair on his friend’s face and shuffles to the door.

"I figured it might be easiest to just tell them the facts up front and then let all of us talk," you tell them both, now wondering if that was the right move at all.

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, understanding why you did it, but he looks over at Rachel with regret and waits for her to say something.

"Do you, actually...do you mind if I talk to Frankie—" Rachel hums awkwardly over it, before reconsidering. "If I talk to my father alone for a few minutes?" She sort of feels like they're ganging up on him, and while she has questions and she's sure that you do, too...hers are going to be very different from yours.

“I don’t mind.” Frankie glances back over at you for approval.

"I should go make the rounds outside." As much as you don't want to, it is your party and they are your guests out there. Most of whom noticed that something odd has happened even if they don't know what. Still, you nod and lean over to hug your daughter. "Come back out when you’re ready. Ben looked like he'll worry until you do."

“I will.” She promises and Frankie catches your eye as you glance over at him.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, thanking you for the opportunity to talk to Rachel. He knows you could have been very different with this entire thing. Blowing out a breath when you walk out and shut the door, he looks back at his grown daughter. “So hit me with it.” He tells her.

For a second Rachel is dumbfounded. She just stands and stares at him, but then her shoulders slump and she shrugs and she blows out a long sigh. “I guess I know the real reason my middle name is Francine,” she poses, shaking her head. “Mom said it was because The Nanny is her favourite show and I completely fucking believe that because she worships Fran Drescher, but I’m willing to bet that’s one of only like six lies she’s ever told me in my whole life and it’s actually because of you.”

“Francisco Alberto Morales.” He introduces himself to her quietly, nodding and trying not to be humbled by the fact that you gave your daughter a version of his name. Something to connect the two of you.

“And you guys were…you were together for a long time?” She knows the story. She’s heard it from you over and over again. But something in her feels like she needs to hear it confirmed from him.

“Seventh grade until her 18th birthday.” He frowns at the way that makes him sound, how callous it could be construed. He has just walked away after so long.

“And she wanted to get married.” Rachel prompts, needing these landmarks of the story confirmed for her.

“We had a plan.” He shuffles slightly and looks around the neat and well decorated home. You’ve done well for yourself and it shows. “I was going to get through boot camp and my ‘A’ school while she started college and then when I got to my first duty station, she would transfer to a school nearby.” His shoulders round when he remembers that last fight, the missing piece now clicked into place and with maturity, he can see that you had been terrified, not overbearing. “Her birthday, she blind-sided me with getting married.”

“She wanted to skip forward and get married first, and you didn’t agree.” She can see it from both sides, now. As an adult it makes sense why an eighteen-year-old planning his life would think his girlfriend was just trying to trap him — or even that she wanted the wedding more than she wanted him. “But…you never got married at all? Even after Mom?”

“No.” Marie isn’t married to him, he couldn’t do that even if he had been inclined to. She was still technically married to some guy in her past, or so she claimed. “But….”

“Oh god, don’t say Marie.” Rachel bursts out, talking before she can even think. “She’s awful, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. I didn’t feel like I had a right to say anything before but I totally do now and she’s abusive and terrible, and I will absolutely help you leave her if you need help. I’ll babysit Luna anytime and — oh my god Luna is my sister—”

Frankie shuffles and looks down at his feet. Marie hadn’t been at her best the first time that Rachel had come to the bar after the fight. She had been pissed off because his hearing had been postponed again and he wasn’t closer to getting his pilot’s license back.

“Look, if you’re happy, it’s whatever.” Rachel shuffles, not realizing she’s moving the same way as Frankie, and shrugs. She senses she’s hit a nerve. “I’ll still help with Luna whenever you need. I—I always wanted a baby sister…”

“She’s not bad.” Frankie had dealt with her for a long time and it seemed harder to leave than it was to stay. “That was a bad night.”

“If you say so.” She doesn’t believe him, but the very first day she meets her father isn’t the day to push too hard.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he looks around the house again. “Did you and your mom struggle?” He asks quietly.

“My grandparents helped.” The short answer is yes, but she doesn’t want to make him feel guilty. “We lived with them when I was little, then we moved down here when I was about thirteen. Mom got a job with Disney.”

Frankie nods, frowning slightly. He has his retirement and his Thrift Savings Plan from the military, which he will hopefully be able to not use once he gets his license back. He’s not in the best position to offer any kind of help, but he will. “You’re in school, right?” He asks.

“I’m getting my masters at UCF.” Rachel nods again. “I still live with Mom. Here, I mean. She didn’t make me leave or anything when I started college.”

She’s dedicated. Frankie knows that college, especially graduate programs, are expensive. “That’s good.” He bites his lip and wonders if the offer would offend her. “I have my G.I. Bill.” He mentions. “I can gift it to a spouse – which I don’t have.” He shrugs. “Or a child.”

It's a very sweet offer, but that doesn't really surprise her. She already knows Frankie is a sweet guy. "Save it for Luna," she tells him. "I have great scholarships, and that way she'll be able to look forward to school without worrying about student loans."

It’s feels like a rejection, even though he knows it’s not. He nods and clears his throat. “That’s good.” He has an odd sense of pride for her achievements, even though he had done nothing to contribute.

"What do you want to know about me?" There's probably plenty, but now Rachel feels a bit self-conscious. She's at least heard stories about him. All he knows about her is whatever Ben has told him.

“Everything.” The word tumbles out before he can stop himself and he looks embarrassed. “I— I want to know everything.”

"Everything is a lot," she laughs, but understands. She wants to know everything about him too. She's wondered about her father forever. "What if...what if we did some father/daughter stuff? I could come over and spend time with you and Luna or we could grab a drink sometimes? Just...exist together. And all the get to know you stuff will come in time?"

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and smiles at her, his eyes crinkling and his face lighting up at the idea. “I like that. Any time. Any time at all.”

“Okay.” She’s feeling bone tired by all of this so she can only imagine how you and Frankie feel, but as Rachel moves over to the notepad on the far table to write her number down for him, she purses her lips slightly and tilts her head. Her thinking face. “Don’t…please don’t be too hard on Mom?” She asks, holding the slip of paper out to him a second later. “She doesn’t ever say it, but I know she’s missed you. And she worked so hard to raise me alone, she just…she deserves the world.”

“I’m not mad at your mother, querida.” He promises, taking the paper and looking down at it before he folds it up carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “I’m mad at myself.” He explains. “Too goddamn proud to admit I was wrong, and I apparently missed out on a hell of a life.” He looks up at her with pride. “And a hell of a daughter.”

“Well shucks, Paw,” she laughs, obviously very touched by the sentiment. “I guess we both have a bunch to catch up on. But we can do that.”

He snorts and huffs out a grin. “By the way, I’m going to punch your boyfriend in the mouth.” He warns Rachel. “So don’t go screaming at me when it happens.”

“Benny?” She makes an audible huffing sound. “What did he do?”

“You’ll find out.” He won’t say now, but he shrugs. “He deserves it, and he’ll know it.”

“Seems weird, but okay.” Men do weird things sometimes. She’s not so young that she doesn’t know that.

He chuckles and sweeps his head off his head again. “You look like your mother when you wrinkle your nose.”

“It’s funny.” She wrinkles her nose again but consciously, wondering if she really does look like you that way. “She always said I had your smile. And your ears.”

Frankie reaches out and brushes her curls back behind her ears and smiles. “You do have my ears.” He admits.

“Is it weird? She asks, stifling a laugh. “To realize that?”

“Surreal.” He admits with a sigh. “I don’t know what to think. I went from being too old to have a six-month-old, to being the dad to a grown ass woman.”

“I was teasing Mom about wanting a little sister last night,” Rachel admits with a groan at the irony. “Shows me right.”

Frankie smirks slightly and shrugs. “Isn’t life sometimes a kick in the teeth?”

******

“What a Fucking kick in the teeth.” Will pushes out a sigh in the backyard, cracking open the beer he grabbed from the cooler Fish brought.

“Yeah.” Pope frowns at the grill, pushing the perfectly aligned burgers with the spatula. “Who would have thought?”

"What are you gonna do?" It's not as though Pope has had a lot of time to think, but Will knows him long enough to know that the wheels are already spinning. They have all heard Fish talk about his gatita, and now that they know who she is? It at least warrants a reaction.

Pope glances over at Will before he looks back at the grill, his movements a little stiffer than just a moment before. “What can I do?” He asks rhetorically. “She was his first.”

"Just because she was his first doesn't mean that he has to be her last," Benny offers, not quite sure what else to say. They all know that Pope had been starting to fall for you, even if it had never been said. Now he is very obviously pulling back.

"No, but she would want him to be." He admits quietly. "She had told me about her first love. She didn't tell me his name." He says pointedly when Benny opens his mouth to ask the obvious question. "But she told me enough to know that she's still in love with him. And we know that Frankie never got over her."

"So it's not about stepping back," Will observes, sipping his beer in the hot Florida sun. "It's about letting them be together."

Closing the grill, Pope sighs, hands on his hips as he looks around the backyard and comes to his decision. "Don't you think Fish deserves to be happy?" He asks quietly.

"Of course he does." The idea that Will might think otherwise practically makes him clutch his proverbial pearls.

"And fuck knows we want Marie gone," Benny huffs under his breath.

"His gatita is the one to make both of those wishes come true." He's sure of it and he will bow out like a gentleman. It's the least he can do since the last half year of hell in his personal life is partially his responsibility. He had pushed Fish to come to South America. Pope looks back at both of the other men. "Want to help me fix Fish's life?"

Benny is the first to smirk, clapping his hands together and rubbing them dramatically. "You gonna pull a binder out of your ass or are we talking this one through?"

"First, I'm going to get really drunk and pretend like I'm not falling on a sword." Pope snorts, snatching the beer out of Will's hand and taking a drink. "Then, we're gonna figure out how to get Fish custody of Luna." He tells them quietly. "That little girl is the reason he's still with Marie."

"We just need proof that she's the one with the drug problem." Will mumbles, not wanting to say those words too loud. "And we need his hearing to go through so he can get his damn license back."

"Yeah." He sighs and points at Will. "Can you talk to your ex?" Pope asks, knowing it's a big favor. "She's still working in the DA's office, right? Maybe she can help us? Or know someone who can?" Being a paralegal isn't the same as being an assistant DA, but she knows people.

"I'll see if she can at least point me in the right direction," Will nods in agreement, knowing that as uncomfortable as talking to his ex-fiancée will be, it's definitely the right course of action. "She always like Fish. It shouldn't be too hard to get her to give an e-mail or phone number of who can help."

“Marie isn’t going be happy learning about Rachel.” Pope glances at Benny. “You know that.”

"She's going to be furious." Ben agrees, wiping his hand through his hair and blowing out a raspberry. "She's gonna think Fish kept it from her on purpose."

“Poor bastard looked like he was about to fall over.” Pope sighs. “I hate this.”

"We're gonna make it work," Benny promises him. "Sorry you got shoved into the middle of it, though."

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t and it actually really hurt that he was going to have to end things with you and pretend that he’s just friends with you, but his brother is worth it.

"Better to find out now than a year from now," Will offers, knowing it isn't a whole lot of comfort. But at least it's honest.

“Yeah.” You walk out of the house and he immediately turns to watch you. “Better now.” Santi murmurs, his heart aching.

******

Most people leave around dinner time, splintering off to nighttime plans or to go home to their families. Santiago, Frankie, and the Miller brothers stayed long enough to help you clean up and Rachel is loading the dishwasher when you realize Santiago has gone temporarily missing. On a hunch, you go down the hall to your bedroom and frown to see him there, tucking things back into his duffel bag.

"Decided not the stay the night?"

He hates that you caught him and he stands tall after shoving in a t-shirt and tamping down the guilty feeling. “It’s been a…surprising day.” He tells you. “Figured it might be better to change the plan for tonight.”

"Just for tonight?" You have a feeling you know the answer, but you want it out in the open. No questions or doubts.

His eyes slide away from you and for a moment, he falters. Wondering if this is the wrong thing to do. “No.” He admits, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in his hand. “I am— was— falling in love with you.” He won’t lie to you. “But you’ve been in love with Frank for far longer than you’ve loved me.”

It's enormously frustrating for him to be both presumptuous and right. The last thing you want is to admit it, especially as tears press at the back of your eyes, and so a protest comes out of your mouth instead. "He's with someone else," you point out, knowing that someone mentioned it earlier. One of the Miller brothers, you think. "He's—he's—it's so complicated, Santi."

“I know it is.” His brow pinches together and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “And if it’s too complicated, I won’t let you twist in the wind.” He promises. “But you deserve to find out if your love for him is still there.”

"This isn't how I saw today ending." Overwhelmed and next to tears was definitely not on the docket, but you're not going to beg him to stay. That's not the kind of girl you are anymore. You haven't been in a long time. "What a shitty birthday."

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Pope closes his own eyes and leans his forehead against yours. “I can stay if you want.” He offers in a whisper, feeling guilty all over as his resolve crumbles.

"You'd feel guilty if you did." He's a good man, that's why. It's part of what you liked so much about him when you met, and part of what's grown on you. "Like you were betraying Frankie."

“I would still stay.” He promises.

"You'd feel guilty and then you'd start to resent me." The defense mechanism of crossing your arms over your chest might guard you in spirit, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like utter dogshit in this moment. "Just...know that this isn't how I wanted things to go between us. That's all."

“I know.” He murmurs softly, the slight smile on his lips ironic. “I know, baby. I didn’t want this either.” He admits. “But I’m still going to be here for you. That won’t change.”

“Could I just ask you one favor before you go?” All things considered, it’s very minor and sort of the least you could possibly ask.

“Anything.” Pope would do anything for you, he’s proving that, but he wouldn’t deny you simple request if it’s in his power to take care of it.

“I don’t know if you’re going to see them at all tonight or not but just…don’t tell Rachel yet? She’s going to spend the night with Ben again and I know her. She’ll come straight home to be with me instead. I don’t want to ruin her night.”

He chuckles softly, aware of what that says about you as a mom. “You are a good woman.” He murmurs, leaning in kissing your forehead again. “I won’t say anything to her.”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow.” You promise him. It’s not that you want to hide things from her — it’s that you know she’ll act rashly out of loyalty to you if she finds out tonight. She might even break up with Ben, which is the last thing she actually wants or that you want for her.

“When you tell her is up to you.” He would never think that he should have an input on your relationship with Rachel or when you tell her. “Whenever you are comfortable.”

“Well…” A shrug and a half sigh are the best you can do, not really sure of what else to say. Maybe you’ll get on Pet Finder tonight and look for a cat. Or three.

“Oh…” Pope reaches into his bag and pulls out your gift. “I didn’t want to give this to you in front of everyone.” He tells you quietly. “But this is for you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Especially now. Especially with everything that’s happened today. But you still smile weakly and accept the bag. Yup. It’s gonna be me and three cranky, elderly cats. That’s my future. “I—um, thank you. It’s…very sweet of you. You’re a very sweet person.”

“No, I’m not.” Pope snorts as he steps back. “But you are worth the effort.”

Impulsively, it does make you want to ask why he’s leaving, then. But you know the answer. You know this is about you and Frankie having a past and that nothing is going to change Santiago’s loyalty to his best friend. What’s even more annoying is that you like that about him, it hits harder and hurts more. All you can say without letting the emotions through the floodgates is just to excuse yourself to grab the book of his that you borrowed because it’s downstairs in the living room.

Staring at the door, Pope sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Will. Deciding that he needs a drink after the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

______

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froggiewrites · 3 months ago

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hey, congrats on 100 followers! i love the way you write zoro and sanji and the final chapter of "picture you" has me craving some zoro x reader x sanji smut. could we maybe get a taste of that, please? 🙏

I've been thinking about writing a threesome for Sanji and Zoro since I finished Picture You, but I was nervous to try it, so thank you for giving me an excuse to push myself out of my comfort zone a bit 😊 I hope you enjoy it!

Two for One

Pairing: Zoro x Reader x Sanji

NSFW

Summary: Sanji and Zoro have been fighting even worse than usual lately for reasons beyond your comprehension, and everyone else is growing sick of it. Once you finally figure out why, you decide you three are all going to solve this together. Warnings: Smut, Clueless Reader, Canon Typical Zosan Fighting, Praise Kink (if you squint) Word Count: 3.2k

“Shut the hell up, mosshead!”

“Only if you get out of my goddamn face, you damn cook!”

Your crewmates were moments away from tearing each other’s throats out. They always were, of course, but the tension had grown so thick lately it was almost hard to breathe in the same room as them. You have no idea what caused them to turn into rabid dogs, constantly barking in your ears, but it was absolutely unbearable.

“Will you two stop?” Nami smacks them both softly upside the head, glaring harshly. “Don’t make this our problem. Look around, you two. Look at what you’re doing.” There’s something behind her words you can’t quite make out, and both of their gazes turn specifically to you, taking in your tense shoulders and the way you’ve begun to hunch in on yourself a bit. The tension eases slightly as they both slump a little with shame, before Sanji quickly grabs your hands.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. The brute and I will stop now. “

“Brute?” Zoro snaps. “You little–” He looks at your face before stopping, letting out a huff, and storming out.

Sanji reluctantly lets go of your hands when a timer goes off in the distance. “Well, duty calls, angel.” He skitters off into the kitchen.

The rest of the crew lets out a relieved sigh. Brook places a skeletal hand on your shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

“What?”

Robin and Franky chuckle, like this is a joke you aren’t in on, and Nami sighs. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what exactly?”

“Oh my god.” She sighs, resting her head in her hands. Everyone else laughs again, slowly filing out and patting her on the back, silently designating her with the task of explaining.

“What is it? What don’t I know?”

“The reason they’ve been fighting. You haven’t noticed a pattern at all?”

You think back to all of the most recent arguments you’ve witnessed, and you can’t think of a single thing that connects them. One about who was more handsome, one over who was stronger, and, strangely, one over who was better at fishing, which is something you didn’t think either of them were particularly invested in. “They’re the same stupid fights they’ve always been, just worse.”

“Not…exactly. Think harder. Have you walked in on any fights recently? Or have they always started when you’re there?”

You’ve been unfortunate enough to witness the rising tension firsthand every time recently. “I’ve been there for all of them. It’s sucked.”

“So you’ve been there for every single one.”

“Well I don’t know if they’ve fought when I’m not around. I’m not there.”

She sighs deeply. “I–okay. That’s fair actually. If I told you they barely ever fought when you weren’t around, would that help at all?”

You narrow your eyes, puffing out your cheeks slightly in thought. “It’s…my fault.”

“Yes?”

“They’re…mad at me.”

“Wait–”

“They hate me.”

“No! Oh my god. They’re fighting over you. Because they’re in love with you.”

Your eyes widen, jaw going slack against your will. “What?”

“You really never noticed? Why do you think Sanji insists on dragging you to the kitchen and slowly rolling up his sleeves directly in front of you, and constantly unbuttoning his top button? Or why Zoro insists on training in front of you, or doing push ups with you on his back?”

You pout. “They’re my friends and they wanna spend time with me?”

Nami hesitates at that. “Okay, um. Yes. That too. But they only do it with you. Sanji hates letting other people into the kitchen that much. And Zoro hates being bothered when he’s training. They’re trying to show off. They want to show off how strong and cool they are, because they want you to fall at their feet and beg to have sex with them.” She sees your eyes dim a bit at that, so she quickly corrects. “They want you to like them, is the point. I mean they definitely also want the sex, but really they just want you, and the idea of the other one getting you first pisses them off.”

You blink. “Oh.” You shift, eyes narrowing in thought. “So…they want to have sex with me.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

You think for a moment, wondering how you could possibly choose between the two of them. Your dear friends, your dear, wonderful, handsome, sexy friends. “What do I do now?”

“You pick one, I guess.” Nami sees the frown on your face, and you can see the realization sink in. “Or…you don’t?”

“Do you think they’d be okay with that?”

“For anyone else? No, probably not. I think their pride would get in the way. But for you?” She smirks. “I think they’d do anything you wanted, and they wouldn’t even have to think for a single second about it.”

“I wouldn’t want to push them into anything they’re uncomfortable with.”

“You think they of all people could be pushed into anything they’re uncomfortable with?” She laughs. “I promise you, they wouldn’t. Just go ask. I think you’ll be happy with their response. And the rest of us won’t have to listen to their stupid dick measuring contests anymore.”

You leave the kitchen, steps lighter and filled with determination. Your extremely hot and wonderful friends want you, and you want them. You have great things ahead of you.

Zoro is up in the crow’s nest training, shirtless and sweating, which seems to be his default state. He sees you out of the corner of his eyes, and his next slash is particularly strong and dramatic. He even looks back to see how you react. How did you not notice the way his eyes lingered on you before?

“Hey Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you meet me in my room in about an hour? I need to talk to you.”

His eyes absolutely light up, even if his face remains neutral. “Hm? Yeah, sure, I can do that.” When he thinks you aren’t looking, he has the smuggest smirk you’ve ever seen on his face. He thinks he’s won. And he has, in a way.

You wander to find Sanji in the kitchen next. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?” He gives you an affectionate smile before returning his attention back to the onions he’s chopping.

“Can you meet me in my room in an hour? I have something important to talk to you about.”

He doesn’t try to hide the way he lights up, giving you a heartstopping smile. “Of course, angel! I won’t keep you waiting!” He starts humming a love song as you leave, affection written clearly on his face.

And then you wait. A few times you wonder if this is a bad idea, if it will make them hate you, but you reassure yourself that Nami would have told you if it would fail. She wouldn’t let you walk into a trap like that. You bounce your leg anxiously as you wait for your friends to arrive.

Sanji is first, of course. He shows up exactly an hour from when you talked, down to the second, an offering of your favorite drink in hand. “Hello, darling. I brought something for you!” His smile is so excited you almost feel bad for not letting him know the rest.

“Thank you, Sanji. That’s so sweet.” You take it gladly, taking a grateful sip and letting the flavor wash over you.

“So what did you want to talk about?” He’s leaning closer, longing clear on his face, but you hold strong instead of kissing him senseless like you want to.

“I can’t start until we’re all here.”

“We? All?”

Zoro opens the door nearly immediately after, joy clear on his face before it sours at the sight of Sanji. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Darling, why is this bastard interrupting?” Sanji is glaring at him, putting himself between you two as though he’s protecting you.

You set your drink down on a table before regarding both of them. “I need to talk to both of you. …If you’re okay with that.”

They regard each other a moment before humming in affirmation, looking at you expectantly.

“So I found out recently that you guys are…fond of me.”

They nod.

“And I’m fond of both of you.”

Another nod.

“And I thought that…maybe…we could all share in that fondness. Together. At the same time.”

“You want a threesome?” Zoro is straight to the point.

“Well, more than one, ideally.” He laughs, while Sanji sits in silence, brow furrowed in thought. You continue, unable to stop yourself in your anxiety. “I like you guys a lot, and I was hoping you’d be okay with this, but I understand if you aren’t–”

“I’m okay with it.” Sanji speaks up with a firmness you didn’t expect. You expected an argument, maybe reluctant agreement, but he seems to have no reservations. “Whatever you want, I’ll do. Simple as that.”

“I don’t want this if you don’t, though.”

“I do want this.” His cheeks turn a little pink. “The thought is…not terrible.”

“I’m also down.” Zoro immediately starts approaching. “So we should start now, right? Break this whole thing in?”

You freeze for a moment, a deer in headlights. You really expected at least a little arguing. “So you guys are really okay with it?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

“Shit. Um, okay. I wasn’t ready for this to go well. Uh, let’s start then. I guess.”

“Yes ma’am!” Sanji is on you before you can even process he’s moved, hands hooking under your thighs and pulling you against him. He kisses you hard, but before you can sink in and enjoy, he’s flipped you around to face Zoro. “Let’s christen this voyage, huh?”

Zoro scoffs. “That was so cheesy.” Even with his annoyed grumble, he seems pretty thrilled. He captures your mouth with his own, rough and demanding. His lips are chapped, and he quickly slides his tongue across your lips, demanding they open. You do so gladly, allowing his entrance, and you’re quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of Zoro taking what he wants from you as Sanji grinds against you, hands wandering and squeezing everything they find. He gropes your breasts, your thighs, before eventually landing on your clothed cunt, making you gasp into Zoro’s mouth.

“God, darling, you feel just as wonderful as I imagined.” Sanji’s voice is dripping with affection and lust as he squeezes you again. “So soft, so perfect. Absolutely made for us.”

Zoro parts from you just to comment. “You really are,” he mutters, squeezing your tits. “Absolutely perfect. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

Sanji makes a soft tsk. “Not ruin. You could never ruin such perfection.”

“Watch me.”

Zoro quickly sheds you of your top and bra, leaving your tits on display for the two of them. They both pause in their movements a moment, just quietly admiring your body, before their hands fight over who gets to feel you first. Sanji ends up with your right breast and Zoro ends up with your left as they both squeeze and prod however they want. When Zoro gives a particularly hard squeeze to your nipple you can’t help but whine, rolling your head forward into his shoulder. This makes you miss the shit-eating grin he gives Sanji, but the other man notices it immediately. In response, he shoves his hands down your pants, rougher than he would normally be, quickly finding your clit to rub.

“Oh god,” you cry, muffled by the fabric of Zoro’s shirt.

“Hear that, mosshead? That was all me.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro’s voice is cocky as he rolls your breast in his fingers again, making you moan. “I’d say that was me.”

“You two are insufferable,” you murmur.

“You think?” They chorus, and you realize that there’s always one thing they can agree on: a common enemy. Quickly their hands start to work in unison instead of opposition, Zoro always squeezing whenever Sanji takes a break and vice versa. They don’t allow you a single moment of peace, always pushing you closer and closer to the brink, closer and closer to losing yourself, before they pull back, not quite ready to give you your pleasure quite yet.

You don’t remember losing your pants. You were too focused on the feeling of Sanji’s bare erection pressed against your ass, the feeling of his warmth against your back, the sight of Zoro’s scarred chest and perfect cock right before your face. Sanji pushes you down so you’re eye level with it as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re not going to go easy on you.”

“Don’t listen to him, angel. We’d never be rougher than you can take.” You can’t help but notice the implication that there is a level of roughness you can take, but you don’t voice the thought, left silent by the heat of their bodies and the tension in the room. You’re practically drooling at this point for somebody, anybody to fill one of your waiting holes.

“Please,” you mutter, unsure exactly what you’re asking for, or from who you want it. You just want them, all of them, and they’re more than happy to provide.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just relax. We’ll take care of you.” Zoro’s voice is gentler than you’d expect when brushes his tip against your mouth. His hand tangles itself in your hair, ready to guide you forward, but he’s careful not to pull too hard.

“We’re here for you, always.” Sanji’s voice is gentle as well, but his hands on your thighs are rougher than you’d expect. You had always imagined him a tender lover, treating you as though you’re made of glass, but it seems the spirit of competition has made his hold a little tighter. You’re excited to see if it makes any other parts of him rougher as well.

They thrust in at the same time. Zoro fills your throat slowly but steadily, and Sanji fills your hole in a single thrust, pushing you forward into Zoro. You moan around him, and he shivers at the feeling of the vibrations. He pets your head affectionately, muttering quietly, “That’s it, sunshine. Just like that.”

“Oh god angel, you’re even more perfect than I imagined.” Sanji relishes in the feeling of bottoming out in you, in your warmth and wetness. He allows his eyes to close for a moment, head thrown back with pleasure, before he allows his hands to settle on your hips and prepares himself for the job ahead.

They make eye contact, sharing a single nod before they begin to move without mercy.

You expect Zoro to demolish your throat without hesitation, but his movements are slow and precise. You expect Sanji to take his time enjoying you, but his thrusts are quick and deep, relishing in the feeling of you. You wonder if having them together has evened them out, bringing them to a center between Zoro’s harshness and Sanji’s carefulness that allows them both to lose themselves a bit, treating you less like a toy or glass and more like another person who’s simply thrilled to participate.

As you move, Sanji squeezes your hips just firm enough to keep you still without risking bruising your skin. He leans down, pressing warm kisses to your back, muttering praising words, yes and more and just like that, angel against your skin. Zoro is also whispering to you, as one hand rests in your hair and the other rests on the back of your neck possessively. His words are less obviously worshiping but no less affectionate, even as he whispers more and yes, good girl and fuck to nobody in particular. You close your eyes, soaking in the words of the men against you, absorbing their warmth and affection and need. You don’t think you’ve ever heard their voices turn more desperate or wanting than they are right now.

Sanji gives one particularly hard thrust, pushing you further up Zoro’s cock until your nose is resting in his pubic hair, and they both give a deep moan in unison.

“Yes!”

“God, there you go!”

You honestly couldn’t tell who said what at this point, too lost in the sensation of it all.

As their thrusts grow rougher and more sloppy, Zoro’s hand starts to grip your hair tighter, pulling in a way that makes you keen. Sanji slides one of his hands from your hip to your clit, rubbing small precise circles around the bud. You thrust your hips slightly when he does, and you can hear him chuckle. “Almost there, darling. Just a little more.”

Zoro cums first, thrusting deep into your throat and holding you there as he cums in your mouth, inadvertently forcing you to swallow it all. He gives a few small thrusts into your mouth, fully emptying himself, before he pulls out. You manage to ground yourself for long enough to look him in the eye and open your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue, showing him not a single drop was wasted. He groans, lust clear on his face.

You expect Sanji to be second as his thrusts grow more erratic, but then you hear his soft whispers. “So close, angel. Just a little more. Together now.” His finger on your clit is relentless, calluses rubbing you in all the right ways. It’s only once you let out a high pitched moan, tightening around him, that he allows himself to release into you, painting your insides white. You clench around him, and he leans forward, biting gently into your shoulder, just enough to ground himself. He continues thrusting into you and giving attention to your clit until he’s sure you’re finished, before he finally pulls out, cum leaking from your cunt onto the wooden floor.

You’re about ready to collapse, but before you can, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, guiding you to your bed. “You did great,” Zoro murmurs softly, resting your head against your pillows. Sanji disappears for a moment before reappearing with a damp washcloth, which he uses to lovingly clean you up and erase any trace of the act other than the bite mark on your shoulder and cum inside of you.

“Did you like that?” You murmur sleepily. You know they did, felt it firsthand, but you still feel the need to confirm.

“More than you could ever know,” Sanji whispers tenderly. He then grows a vicious smirk. “And it felt wonderful to be the first one to make you cum, darling. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, with or without current company.”

Zoro scoffs. “You may have made her cum first but I’ll make her cum faster next time, just you watch.”

“In your dreams, mosshead. Though I guess you do know something about cumming fast.”

“Watch yourself, cook.”

You laugh as you realize this didn’t solve any of the arguments your crew thought it would. That’s alright, though. You didn’t mind. They could fight over you any day.

#sanji x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x reader x sanji #sanji x reader x zoro #one piece x reader #x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x y/n

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