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hellishjoel · 1 year

Text

slow shift

7k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Next Chapter

series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, talking about w33d, alcohol consumption (not by reader or frankie, but discussions of alcohol), oral (f! receiving), discussions of periods and Plan B, frankie having a fat d!ick, slightly public sex, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), you know how I roll

A/N: welcome to the first part in my linecook!frankie series! It's all just going to be chaos!! enjoy dirty dishes, cussing, and decent food made by the hot linecooks. I’ll have a title as soon as I stop putting it off <3 enjoy! let me know what you think! also how LIT is the banner

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle. You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Welcome to hell.

A makeshift building somehow still holding up four walls that housed a small restaurant inside.

This wasn’t some secret treasure that belonged on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives or a hidden hole-in-the-wall five-star Michelin Restaurant. This was Tommy’s Diner.

The locals had different names for the run-down dump you called your place of employment: the Hometown Heartburn Hut (true), American Pie ( ha-ha funny), the Rusty Spoon (some guy OD’s behind the place one time, and no one ever forgets), or Tumbleweed, your pothead coworkers liked to call it. It was a tumbleweed because the restaurant was barren, emphasis on the weed to accommodate the faded line cooks that lurked in the back of the restaurant.

Don’t let today’s slow shift fool you; there were times when Tumbleweed was cram-packed. Friday night football games were busy with tailgaters, bustling with teens after a championship game. Other times, it was when a Greyhound bus or a similar cross-country vehicle drove through and took a stop for the passengers.

The most popular time of year was in the summer. Tommy’s Diner hosted Saturday night Cruise Nights. The town would flood with classic cars and hot rods, and the diner would transform into a drive-in. Their engines revved through different cities from far and wide to be at Tommy’s. That’s when the place felt the most alive, bustling with people and their laughter, little kids running with their milkshakes and flipping quarters into the rigged claw machine.

But it wasn’t a Saturday in August. It was a Monday. You were stuck with the misfit motley crew that did everything from dishwashing, cooking, bussing, running the register, being half-ass managers, and, of course, the token pretty waitress. You.

You will admit that each character working at Tumbleweed had a unique story etched into their grubby hands or baggy-eyed faces. They’ve weathered years of late-night shifts and condiment, grease-stained aprons.

Tonight there was Lou, the jaded by heartbreak teenage busboy. He walked with a shuffle, always sniffling about an ex-girlfriend. He worked slow and god damn, did that piss you off.

Then there was Tina, the aspiring singer stuck in a small-town type. She was newer, still learning how things worked since she had never waited tables a day in her life. She had that fresh twinkle of stardom in her eye despite being in her late 30’s. You were training her and trying not to let her drive you up the wall whenever she started singing different songs on the jukebox. Note to self: Put a sticky note saying it’s busted every time you work together.

Paul was the do-it-all guy. Toilet clogged? Get Paul. Dishes piling up? Ask Paul to do it. The cashier on a bathroom break? Paul can run the till. He was useful, just complained and grumbled a lot.

Tommy of Tommy’s Diner hasn’t worked a day in years. He’s older, so it’s understandable. Last thing you heard was he was down in Florida, living out retirement in a cheap home with a gambling addiction. Sounded like he was doing well for himself. But now his idiot son Rudy ran the place. Tommy’s picture was still on dusty display, toothy smile and all at the front door that people huddled in and out of—speaking of.

Your head lifted to attention as the bell above the door chimed, sighing in annoyance as you leaned back onto the counter. It was just Frankie.

“It’s fifteen after. You were supposed to be here on time today because we have to set up for Carla’s thing.”

Frankie breezed past you, aviators and stupid ballcap on, his smile lifted in a sneer. He was smacking on pink bubble gum as he neared your part of the counter and purposely shuffled past you with his hips against yours in an attempt to get into the kitchen. You couldn’t help but lean into him with a little smirk.

“Tommy said it was fine I was late.” He joked once he ducked into the back, your arms crossed as you followed him aimlessly.

You sigh and lean back against the locker next to his, watching him shuffle off his jacket.

“You disappoint me, Frankie.” Your face held a teasing pout.

“Never meet your heroes, baby.” That stupid fucking cocky smirk painted his face.

You opted to roll your eyes and look away as a defense tactic against Frankie’s flirty moves. Frankie calling you baby made your guts twist.

He was an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but you two were hired the same summer a few years back and were the only ones who stayed once summer had run its course. You supposed it was bonded trauma after that.

New workers had come and gone, but you and Frankie were still at Tommy’s, still working crappy shifts on crappy hourly pay. Despite Frankie being a douchebag, he made the place bearable. He was comfortable. You knew each other.

“Can you just meet me on the floor like you were supposed to fifteen minutes ago and help with the banner? Carla’s going to be here at five, and you still have to make her special-”

“Jesus fuckin’- yes, I’ll be out in a few.” Frankie playfully groaned, shoving the brim of his hat into his mouth to hold it, his hands busy as he tied a tattered red bandana around his forehead before he replaced the cap back on. Okay… hot.

He took a deep breath once he finished, and leaned against the locker beside you, arms crossed, mimicking you as your shoulder brushed his bicep. You looked up at him, so many inches taller than you, as he looked down. Maybe too far down. He started at your eyes, but those eyes of his tended to wander right down to the cut of your shirt.

“Ugh- Frankie!” You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, readjusting your top as he playfully threw his hands up on the defense.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous today, by the way!” He shouted as you exited the locker room, smiling and shaking your head with your back to him and throwing up your middle finger before the door swung closed with your exit.

---

You stood on the top of a dining table in your sneakers, attempting to hang a shitty banner you had painted for Carla’s birthday. You glanced down at the table and made a little face about the scuff you put in it. Oops. You can try and scrub it later.

There was no other person you or Frankie would do this stuff for. But it was Carla’s birthday and she was a diamond in the rough at this dump.

Carla's position at Tumbleweed is a mixture of human resources, accounting, decent management, and a mother figure to not just you but the entire staff. Besides Carla, we could all care less about everyone else's birthday. You were burning this ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner as soon as the clock struck midnight.

You let out an exhausted huff as you attempted to tack the final hanging string into the wall, but it was just out of reach. That’s when you heard the smacking of his stupid pink bubble gum. You didn’t even have to look.

“Are you gonna help me or not, Morales?” Your voice seethed in annoyance, not only to Frankie but also cursing your short legs and your just not long enough arms.

He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the differential space between you and took the tack and string into his meaty fingers.

You glanced down, watching his teeth capture his lower lip in concentration, checking to see if it was straight. Pushing the pin in, he backed up to where you stood on the dining table and crossed his arms in observance.

It was incredibly crooked. But it was the thought that counts, right?

“Good enough for me. You?” You glanced down at Frankie, and he was biting back a smile.

“What?” You pushed, narrowing your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Distracted by something else. “D’you paint this?” The warmth of his hand slowly crept onto the back of your calf, your chest tightening as he slowly skated it higher with no interference from you.

You gently nod, avoiding his eye contact as you look at the sign. Now, his hand was on the back of your thigh, and you had to take a breath. A mhm was all you could muster up.

His fingers delicately skimmed the skirt of your uniform, knuckles brushing against your backside. You used to hate these 50’s style waitress uniforms, but now they didn’t seem so damn bad because Frankie’s movements were making you lightheaded. Snap out of it!

“Need help down?” Frankie asked, hand at the ready on your hip.

You shook your head despite using his assistance anyway. You squatted on the table, black lace panties peeking out as you used Frankie’s broad shoulders as leverage. You put one foot down onto the linoleum and then the other, wiping your hands cleanly down your uniform as you both returned to look at the lopsided sign.

You hoped it was enough. You hoped she appreciated it, especially all that she’s done for you over the years. Covering your shifts, leveling out the register when you accidentally gave someone the wrong change, tucking extra tips into your apron when she knew your rent was coming up. Everyone needed a Carla, not everyone was lucky to have one.

“She’s gonna love it,” Frankie seemed to sense your nerves as he lifted his cap to bring some air to his sweaty dark curls before putting it back into place. “I’ll start workin’ on her special. Mushroom Swiss patty melt?” He said before disappearing into the kitchen again, only leaving once you gave him your little nod of assurance. You liked that he remembered.

---

“Happy birthday, Carla!” Uncoordinated voices cheered as Carla entered Tumbleweed right on time for her shift.

Her face lit up, and she looked beautiful. She packed a little extra blush and eyeshadow to commemorate the special occasion.

“Oh, shit- oh my- You guys! Thank you!” Carla made special eye contact with you, knowing you were the only one caring enough to orchestrate this shindig.

Carla has this soulful charm about her. Raised in Louisiana, she loved to cook family recipes and bring the leftovers to work for you and Frankie to fight over. You remember she had three kids at home, so she had this curvy mom's body that put a proud sway in her walk. A playful and confident woman at heart, she was all the regular’s favorite to see. And she knew everyone. And she knew everything. She put Tommy’s back in business during the slower seasons. People would come to see her face on Sunday mornings over their coffee and runny eggs.

“Oh, baby, thank you.” She cooed as she cupped your cheek and squeezed, making your face tick. “This the red velvet?” Her voice hummed as she observed the cake in your hands, pushing her finger lightly into the frosting to taste it.

You had pulled one of the cakes from the display case and shitily piped it with chocolate sauce ‘HBD!’.

“Of course, your favorite... Right?” You pursed your lips and snuck a nervous glance at Frankie before you set the cake down on the countertop.

Carla looked beyond touched for something you’d consider a bit lackluster. “It’s my favorite ‘cause you made it. Thank you, baby.”

You glanced around for the cake cutter, watching as Tina pushed a quarter into the jukebox and got the party started. Everyone was doing shitty dance moves, even the one or two customers that had filtered in for a cheap dinner.

You sighed as you looked behind the counter for the cake cutter, grabbing the cake and its stand to haul it to the back.

You thrust your shoulder blades into the swinging door, setting the cake stand on the counter as you started sifting through the different drawers to find the serving knife.

Half a carton filled with cigarettes; Frankie’s. Matches from an old jazzy gentleman’s club; Rudy’s. Hair ties; yours. Where’s the fuckin’ cake cutter?!

The music from the jukebox was more faded in the kitchen. The serving window, professionally called the pass, was just big enough to see faces and hand plates through from the kitchen to the front.

You made a face when you found the cake server inside a large pot-- how, no, why? Jesus Christ. Fucking idiots.

The swinging door to the kitchen wooshed in before slowly creaking closed, seeing Frankie coming to stand beside you in your peripheral.

You carefully plunged the slicer into the soft sponge of the cake, carving a piece for Carla and setting it on a plate. You reached forward across the counter for another small plate, the short skirt of your uniform revealing the curve of your ass to an overly curious Frankie. You could feel his heat burning through his chest.

“Could you be less obvious?” Your voice held teasing notes, putting another piece of cake on a plate and pushing them away to make space for more.

He had tried this a handful of times with you, and he had yet to be successful besides that one time when you both drunkenly made out at the last December holiday party. You were pretty sure he had been hung up on you ever since. You enjoyed watching him try.

Your eyes flitted over to his, observing his body and facial features.

He looked gross, honestly. The two meals he cooked including Carla’s special before she came in for her shift made his face and neck sweaty and his hands greasy, his apron to match. It was white at one time, a long, long time ago. His stupid red bandana was still tied around his forehead, catching the spare sweat droplets, as the kitchen became unbearably hot in the middle of August.

You probably didn’t look much better. Hair all over the place with makeup you put on in the morning probably half smudged off by now. Your hands were checkered in pen ink, a spare papercut from snagging a receipt from the register. But still decent. He was still decent.

His hand was back in dangerous territory, lingering low on your waist. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. You could feel warmth flooding your body, heat from the heart of his hand burning into your hip. He was admiring your body, slow and appreciative as he cupped the curve of your ass. And then he squeezed.

Your shaky hands barely got the fourth slice you cut onto a small serving plate. The cake cutter clattered onto the metal counter as Frankie shifted his body behind yours, his watchful eyes on the pass. No one was watching, stupid and oblivious. You swallowed a lump down your throat, your small hands clenching the rim of the counter. His hips were flushed against yours. Worst of all was that you really fucking liked it.

“This okay?” You’re flattered he asked after the fact.

You leaned back into his touch, quietly humming on the brink of a little moan. You were a little desperate for touch, maybe you’d be on your period soon. “Mhmm..”.

Frankie was a douchebag, but you two have been flirting back and forth with one another for years like an ongoing tennis match. He was older, he had years on you. Not an obscenely amount, but enough to make people raise an eyebrow. You were surprised he had the balls to actually make a move on you like he was right now.

“Like you in black.” Frankie’s voice was cut down to a murmur, low and all-enveloping. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the black in your waitress uniform or your black panties. Probably the latter.

His fingers brushed past your goosebump-covered ass and slipped between your legs to your clothed pussy. You softly gasped, eyes shifting closed as your hips involuntarily leaned into Frankie’s touch. You didn’t look subtle at all. You looked like you wanted to be touched, manhandled, kissed, fucked…

“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He purred, your chest already heaving. “Act normal.” You forced your eyes open, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. Needy pupils connected with his blown-out ones. The back of your head brushed his shoulder, setting it there for just a moment before he looked straight ahead.

Frankie nodded back to the pass, your eyes following his eye line to everyone distractedly dancing and sipping coffee mixed with bourbon on the floor.

You bit down on your lower lip, knuckles cast over in a milky white with the iron grip you held on the metal rim of the counter. Frankie’s body heat had disappeared from your back, and now you felt it cast against the back of your legs. You glanced around, seeing him on his knees behind you with his mouth now latched to the back of your thighs. Oh, fuck. His kisses sponged up higher, towards your heat.

Your eyelashes fluttered, Frankie’s act normal echoing through your hollow head. With distracted hands, you resumed cutting the cake. You probably looked slow and stupid, but feeling his patchy beard hair nestle between the sweet skin of your inner thighs had you in a haze.

Frankie’s big hands reached under your skirt, lining the black panties that sat snugly on your hips with his forefingers. He slowly peeled them down, feeling the material roll as he stopped them to rest halfway down on your thighs.

Your shoulders shuddered as your warm pussy met the slight chill of the outside world, panties adorning a little soaked spot.

“Frankie,” Mm? “Someone’s gonna see.” But you weren’t stopping him. You weren’t telling him to fuck off. You weren’t kicking him right in the gut like you probably could. In fact, you were leaning into him.

“Such a pretty pussy... Can’t stop, baby.”

A helpless whimper left your lips, thighs shaking at his affectionate, warm kisses.

Frankie’s hand swatted at the inside of your right ankle and then the other, hinting for you to spread yourself for him. You pursed your lips and shakily sighed, parting your legs as your sneakers lightly squeaked on the checkered floor. Fuck me, Frankie.

You didn’t know how much longer you could be patient. The waiting was tantric, hypnotizing you into seduction.

Spread for him and dripping, Frankie’s mouth finally attached to your slit. Your knee lightly jerked up and smacked a bus tub filled with dirty dishes, a few eyes on you through the pass as you nervously laughed. “S-Sorry!”

Frankie couldn’t help but let out a warm puff of laughter against your cunt, and you swore your insides were twisting at the sensation.

“Easy pretty girl… Don’t need us gettin’ caught. You want me to stop?” Frankie’s voice was husky, warm palms spreading your thighs, your body lightly bending over to lean on the counter. You tried to look busy with something, stupidly polishing a random fork. With the extra exposure, he had full access to your sex.

“Does it look like I want you to stop?” You finally punched out through air-abducted lungs, anxiously chewing on the skin of your lip. “Frankie.” You said in a hushed warning tone, wanting more and not knowing how to ask nicely for it. But that’s what he liked about you. You weren’t nice.

His lips finally attached properly to your pussy, his devilish tongue lining the center of your cunt and flicking off your clit. Your head dropped, ears ringing at the sensation.

You wondered how good he would feel if he could take his time instead of giving you head quick while all your coworkers were distracted. Maybe he could run his thumb over the front of your panties, trace the seam of your pussy, and feel how soaked you were for him and his attentive fingers. You thought Frankie had always been so down bad for you. He probably dreamed about getting this opportunity. He finally got you when you were just as horny for someone with a pulse. But this wasn’t all the time in the world; this was a slow shift at Tommy’s.

You rut your hips back into Frankie’s face, hot pants fanning fog onto the cool metal of the counter.

Frankie put his mouth where you needed him most, his tongue dedicating a poem to you. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide, wet strip up through your core, taking in all your juices. His tongue lapped at your weeping hole, thighs shaking against his head as you stifled a moan into the counter.

He was good, manipulative, a fucking menace.

Frankie’s tongue made precision flicks against your bundle of nerves, a gasp a bit too loud leaving the kitchen as you whimpered broken fragments of his name.

You weakly looked up, seeing Tina pluck another quarter in the jukebox, cranking the volume to some seventies soul music. Fuck being quiet.

Concealed by the groove of Stevie Wonder singing We Can Work It Out, your moans were hidden by the shake of a tambourine and plucks to an electric guitar.

“Goddammit, Frankie, mmm, so fucking good,” a gasp and a moan followed suit, lazily smirking with your eyes closed. “So fucking… hot.” You murmured.

Frankie’s mouth was a welcome wonder, dedicated to making you cum. He was swirling his tongue around your clit, weakly flattening your front over the counter again and pressing your cheek against the cool metal. Don’t be a douche right now, Francisco Morales. Make me fuckin’ cum.

The kitchen door swiftly swung open, and your body flew up to stand straight as Carla waited in the doorway.

“What’s taking you so long to cut my cake, baby? I know that bitch is stale as hell, but that don’t mean I don’t want it.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in an attempt to speak, but Frankie’s movements didn’t cease despite Carla’s unexpected intrusion. You bit back a whimper as he lined his tongue just barely into the tight entrance of your walls, his greedy fingers piercing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you spread. Thank god the counter covered your waist down.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Carla looked you up and down, curious but ultimately not giving a damn. You could feel Frankie’s dirty smirk against your thighs.

“Alright... Hurry up. I’m tryna get my dessert.”

And with that, the door swished closed, and your back slumped at the relief.

Frankie’s unexpected voice made you jump lightly, his words echoing against you. “Gotta make ya finish fast, princess. Want my dessert, too.”

You whimpered but willed yourself to stand up straight and turn around to face him. He looked like a mess. Lust-filled black eyes and a cocky smirk to match. Your juices glistened on his lips and chin. Frankie would be incredibly hot if he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

“Taste as good as you look, princess.” Frankie stood up, tall and broad body making a white hot spot form in your stomach. Fuck, you couldn’t do this right now. Not right here.

He could tell. He took a few cautious steps away, you watched him carefully like a rattlesnake. He knew when not to push you and when to let you make the decisions. He also knew how to give you orders when you were too pussy fucked to think straight.

“Serve that cake and meet me out back.” He was looking over you, enjoying the few times you looked totally fucked like you did right now. He stepped back into your space and pulled your panties back into place, a sobby whimper leaving your lips as he gently cupped your aching mound with a smirk. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”

“Fuck off.” You mumbled, fixing the bottom half of your uniform.

You watch as Frankie grabs the beer bottle you all used as a makeshift door prop and his half-carton of cigarettes you had brought out of a drawer in an attempt to find the cake cutter. He disappears out back into the alley. Shit, the cake.

You hurriedly sliced the remainder of the cake, placing a few stray candles into the slices. You lit them once you greeted the group waiting on the floor, singing a shitty rendition of Happy Birthday. Paul lights his cigarette from one of the candles, puffing smoke across the frosting.

The crowd hastily grabbed one of the small plates and a fork. Most of you only tried a bite or two. The cake had been in the display case for far too long.

---

Anxious and impatient, you slip into the back with everyone’s dirty dishes and sneak back into the kitchen. You do nothing more with them than chuck them into the sink for Lou to wash up at some point or another. Your eyes stare at the beer bottle keeping the back kitchen door ajar. You take in a deep breath, leaving a shaky sigh before following Frankie out into the alley.

The air was warm, a welcome breeze passing over you. The alley was everyone’s hideaway, littered with crushed beer and soda cans, two large garbage dumpsters, and a large one for recycling. You could see the highway in the distance. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning purple and blue. You’d watch those cars drive right past your little town, paying no mind, probably off going to somewhere bigger and better. The only people from the highway who stopped to visit Tommy’s were people who didn’t know any better.

A flick of a lighter crackled, dividing your attention. Frankie was smoking his cigarette, his back leaning against the brick wall of the diner. He was trying not to smirk. Seeing you out here was way too much power for him. He took a drag, the end of his cigarette lighting up in a glowing orange haze before he pulled it from his mouth. The smoke he exhaled was taken by the breeze.

“Happy to see me?” His goading tone asked.

“No.” A challenge. A pause.

“So, you want me to go back inside?”

“No.” Another beat. A step closer to him, arms crossed. He’s smart enough to let his cigarette land on the ground.

“So, you want me to stay out here?”

Silence. Staring. Gauging each other’s reactions. Your tight jaw meets his cocky smirk. Too stubborn to ask meeting too stubborn to give without begging. Fuck.

Maybe it’s because you’re both desperate. Maybe because Frankie knows you. Knows you’re too stubborn to ask for him to fulfill your needs. Your inaction meets his unwillingness to waste another moment that he could be inside of you.

Stomping on his cigarette before closing the distance between you two, he envelopes you in a kiss that robs you of your breath. He tastes musky and bitter. The smoke that recently captured his lungs was hot on your lips.

Your heart was beating with excitement, happy to lose control for a moment as Frankie walked you blindly backward into the brick wall. Ouch.

Your tongues danced in a rhythmic motion, seducing you into letting him take the power as the kiss deepened. The flavor was subtle but distinct. The Marlboro’s held an acrid undertone, an unexpected layer of the kiss you sort of liked. If he tasted like spearmint gum, it might have turned you off.

It was like you were his cigarette now, breathing you in and clinging to you in addiction. It was his bad habit, but who were you to judge. You had a closet full of skeletons you weren’t open to anyone seeing. Maybe this was one of his.

His hands were a welcome guest, feeling his warm palms explore a body he had probably fantasized about.

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.

You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Frankie guided you further from the backdoor, hearing voices enter the kitchen. Probably Paul and Lou to start working on closing chores. He took you behind the dumpsters and hiked up your dress. You decided to be useful and push your panties down. He rounded up the material that was tying you up at your ankles and shoved them into his pocket. You were not letting him keep those.

You pushed his apron aside, fingers fussing over his belt buckle. He watched, amused, unwilling to help. He liked seeing you so desperate for his cock. Unbuttoned. Unzippered. Black boxer trim peaking out now. You made slight eye contact with him before you shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Your heart clenches at how girthy he was. Fuckkk, this was gonna feel good.

He didn’t take his apron off, merely shoved it to the side as it haphazardly swayed on his hip. He closed the distance between you again, a greedy kiss, a kiss to mark you with. You pulled away to spit into your hand, taking him by his base and squeezing.

Frankie’s eyes shuddered closed, his head dropping as you took his manhood in the small of your hand. He was.. more than a handful. He was so meaty, not even able to wrap your fist fully around him.

You purred out a little moan as you worked your hand over him, feeling him grow heavy in your hand as you lubed up his tip, slowly circling your thumb teasingly around the pulsing head.

“Enough.” He muttered. He didn’t like you toying with him.

Frankie hiked up your leg by the underside of your calf, hooking around his hip as you leaned your back against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t comfy, but when you fuck against a run-down diner, you don’t get many options.

Your chest shuddered as you felt his cock heavy against your folds, erect and brushing up against where you needed him most. He was running his hand up and down himself now. You watched as he put down another line of spit from his mouth to his cock before his knuckles shuffled up and down his shaft a few more times.

The sight made you reel your head back and stare up at the sky. As eager as you are, you’re worried about feeling how thick he is. He knows.

“M’gonna go real slow.” He punches out, setting his forehead down against yours, and you shakily nod. Please don’t fucking split me in two, Frankie Morales. You still have a shift to finish, after all. You’re thankful he at least acknowledges his girth. It’s sort of the elephant in the room.

You both look down at your centers, your dripping one and his angry, pink head meeting in unison. It’s sort of fucked up the way that you’re two horrible people. But you knew horrible people always seemed to find each other.

You wet your lips and bite down. Hard. You weren’t a fresh spring virgin, but this wasn’t any other half-decent dick.

You lay your head back against the wall as Frankie guides himself into your welcoming entrance. Your wetness lubes him up well, but he’s still large.

You clench your eyes close and smile. The pain is always pleasure. “Fuck,” you mutter, your head wanting to come back down and watch.

Frankie’s being gentle, an odd word you’d never describe him as. He’s grunting and impatient, but patient for you. He fills you up to the brim and your head is flooded with clouds. You’re in the sky, lightheaded, but so fucking horny.

His hips meeting yours are a gentle greeting, both of your lips brushing as you shared pants of desperation as well as relief. Your stomach was tight, recoiling with the pressure he was providing to the inside of your walls.

“God-

“Jesus-

“-fucking damn.”

“Christ.”

The two of you moaned in unison.

Your nails are piercing into his shirt, bunching around the tops of his shoulders. You move to grip his apron for some sort of control. There is none.

One of his hands is still supporting your leg wrapped around his hip, the other flattened against the brick wall beside your head. You took solace in his arm, resting your forehead against it weakly.

He was cocky for a reason. His length in inches was his amount of reasons.

“Fuck me.” You finally mustered up enough strength to demand. He shakes his head against yours.

“Give it a minute.” He mutters, barely coherent. You’re scrumptiously tight around him, and you know it. You both do.

“We don’t have a minute.” You feverishly bite back, attempting to shift your hips against his. He retaliates by planting his hips against you, fucking the final few inches of his dick into you as you both fell deeper into the wall.

A hot moan rolled off your tongue, hiding your face away in his forearm and shuddering your eyes closed. Frankie’s hand slipped from your leg, cupping the globe of your ass in his warm hand. He squeezed and it made you smile as he reeled his hips slowly back.

He grumbles something.

“What?” You asked with a dopey grin. He pushes back inside you and wipes the smirk clear off your face.

“I said… you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” His voice was tattered with grunts, your tight little pussy making it hard for him to breath.

Now he was creating a rhythm, fucking you into the wall in steady thrusts. You were already feeling your insides tug eagerly in excitement, the hot pool he had created in your guts simmering to a boil.

“Mhmm, mhm, mhm,” you moaned in silent begs, moans you had to read between the lines to understand. Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck you feel good, I-I can’t think of anything other than fuck! Fuck me, Frankie!

He filled you up to a brim you had yet to discover you had. His tip tickled your cervix with each snap of his hips. He was getting greedy, a little sloppy. You’d judge him on this short-lived fuck later, for now, it was perfectly timed to get back into work without anyone noticing.

Your eyes widened and met his murky brown ones as he moved the hand he had against the wall nudged between your thighs, circling your clit. It was messy at first, but he found what made you tick and adjusted. Now he was running tight circles around you, and you were finding it hard to stay silent.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing motion. You actually wanted to taste him again, so you leaned into it, your tongue lining his mouth and tasting his old cigarette with a moan.

Now he was filling you up, no hesitancy in his hips as he snapped the full extent of his length into your cunt. Your head flew back against the orange and red brick, a fucked moan leaving your mouth. Neither of you cared. Frankie’s face was nuzzled against your jawline and neck, sloppy kisses tasting old perfume as the circles on your clit intensified your impending orgasm.

“F-Fuck, Frankie, shit, I’m gonna-” You gasped and closed your eyes, clutching your arms weakly around his shoulders and holding him to you. His body enveloped you like a shield protecting you from anything in your surroundings.

Your orgasm crashed over you, coursing through your body like a million volts of electricity as you whimpered and moaned into his neck. Your eyes were clamped closed, your walls clenching and fluttering around his sensitive cock.

His moans were heavenly, guttural and deep, a little shaky even as he puffed them into your neck and shoulder. His hips twitched against the inside of your thighs as he came undone inside of you. It felt like he was cumming for days, filling you up with white rope after white rope of his semen and painting your insides with only remnants of him.

You couldn’t think. You just focused on the distant sound of the highway, creating a bustling amount of white noise for you. You gently held his head to keep him close, your shaky hand winding into his hair as the two of you reconciled over your orgasms.

He was the first one to move. He slipped himself from you and gave you a few lazy kisses. Your stomach fluttered before you shook your head.

Stop it, Frankie.

‘M not doin’ anything.

Teasing smiles. Hands softening their holds on each other’s bodies. Fixing hair. Fixing undergarments.

He would have held onto your panties. He probably hoped you forgot about them. You tugged them from his pocket and attempted to slip into them with ease, but you ended up having to use the brick wall as a support to lean into.

You steadied his apron straight, and he pulled the skirt of your uniform down. Teamwork.

You don’t really talk, just clean yourselves up, nod, and dart back inside before anyone can really notice or give a damn that you were missing in action. You kept having to excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling Frankie still seeping from you. It made your chest hot, an embarrassed smile on your face.

Fuck it. That’s what Plan B is for. Or you can just wait to see if you get your period in a few days time.

---

You and Frankie danced around one another during the closing shift. Carla went home and took the cake in a to-go container to give to her kids. It was shitty that she had to work on her birthday, but she said that getting to see your gorgeous face was a present of its own.

You tiredly yawned, seeing it was a few minutes past ten. You helped Tina even out the cash register, putting today’s earnings in an envelope, then putting it in the safe for Rudy to take to the bank at the end of the week.

“You sure you don’t mind cleaning up on your own?” Tina asked, giving her a tired smile and a soft shrug.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Despite her annoying singing, Tina wasn’t that bad. She gave you a big grin before she hopped off the stool and left out the front door. Lou and Paul had already left at the start of closing. You didn’t know if Frankie snuck out the back early.

You did a double take to the jukebox, watching Frankie flip his baseball hat backward and push a quarter into the machine. Your face softened, seeing him flip between the different records before landing on one.

Something by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You watched him reach up and untack your banner from the wall easily. You nodded softly before grabbing the spray bottle filled with disinfectant and began wiping down the counters, seats, and tables.

He walked up to you once you finished cleaning, handing you your folded-up banner. You twisted your lips in thought, rolling the banner around in your hands.

“Wanna help me burn this in the burn barrel out back?”

Frankie sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Fuck it. Got nothin’ better to do.”

---

With Frankie’s lighter, both of you watched with glassy eyes as the Happy Birthday! banner burnt to ashes. His face was lit up in orange and yellow hues. He haphazardly tried to lean into the flames with a cigarette dangling between his lips, a stupid laugh leaving you. He shrugged and put the cigarette behind his ear.

“Fuck it.” He huffed, both of your eyes transfixed on the fading flames.

There was a beat of silence.

Frankie’s eyes met yours. “We should do that again sometime.”

Half of your mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Do what?”

He cocked his head to the side in annoyance. “You know what.”

You shrugged and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets. The hum of the highway in the distance made you flashback to just a few hours ago with Frankie railing you against Tumbleweed. A black and purple-streaked night sky submerged the two of you, making you feel tiny. You sigh and shift on your feet, keeping your eyes on the flames that licked up the ay! in Birthday!

“Maybe.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Maybe?”

“Mhm.”

Frankie teetered on your half-ass decision. Even the notion of having an open door left for him to sneak in was enough to make him happy. “Okay. I’ll take a maybe.”

God, you were bluffing so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be sooo bad to throw him a bone every once in a while.

Your fantasizing was cut short as ashes of the banner spewed up from the depths of the barrel and fluttered up into the air between you and Frankie, both of you taking a preemptive step away.

His lighter clicked again; he had to do it a few times before the end of his cigarette caught a flame. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmured. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to walk you to your car, wanting to leave, but not until you started heading home, too.

He swung his body into the driver seat of his beaten-up pickup truck. You decided to follow suit, sliding into your car. You saw Tommy’s fade away from the rearview mirror in the distance. But the thoughts of Frankie between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, and begging to serve your aching center would sit with you until your next shift at Tumbleweed. Sorry. Tommy’s Diner.

---

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#frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut #catfish morales #francisco morales #joel miller #joel miller smut

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soft-mafia · 7 months

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Saved [anime!Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, fem y/n, nsfw, smut, Buggy’s a bit of a perv, Buggy detaching his penis, fingering, fisting, blowjob, piss poor ending tbh

a/n: HELLLLOOO it’s been forever, I know. My HxH fic might take a while because I worked on the prequel right before working on the main one, and I’m currently struggling on that one😭 but if I execute it correctly I feel like the burnout will pay off once I finally finish it. I’m so excited for this little trilogy I’m cooking up guys, though I can’t decide if I want to publish the prequel first or the main fic. I’m already halfway finished with the prequel and I have a lot more energy when I write it😭maybe I need to change the premise of the main fic so I have more enthusiasm with it? But anyways, I’m gonna catch up with x reader writing lol.

There was a huge gust of wind, he was yelling at his crew over something he doesn’t even remember, and before he knew it he was flying into the ocean, trapped beneath the waves. Buggy’s entire body was frozen still not from his own choice, his eyes were wide and he hadn’t even gotten a suck of breath before he was pulled beneath the water. He truly thought he was going to die at this moment.

Suddenly, he feels someone is pulling at his arm. Well, attempting to that is, he’s not exactly light and dainty. But still, they pull and fight to get him above the water and back onto the ship. Once his head can poke out of the water and he can gasp in a breath of fresh air he sees his savior; it’s his chef.

Y/n had hidden a lot of her strength when she first joined his crew however she used it whenever she saw fit. Buggy’s eyes were still wide, he didn’t know why but when he saw her with wet hair, her makeup smeared all over— it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Buggy had already been caught taking peeks at her from time to time, especially when she’s in the middle of prepping meals for the crew. Buggy can’t help but admire her lean, yet muscular arms as she pulls him back up onto the deck with some help from the crew.

The captain was still winded though, spitting and coughing up water. He was shaking, clothes damp and heavy, still feeling weak due to being soaked with pure sea water.

“Give him some air!” Y/n ordered his crew, getting them to back away from him for a moment. The way she barked that command made it seem like she was the captain of this ship. Buggy thought he should feel threatened, but the dominance in her voice was… oddly arousing.

Those feelings of arousal were quickly washed away as he sat up, coughing up more salty sea water. He then groaned and wiggled off his soaking wet coat that felt like it weighed a ton.

“Some help you guys were!!” Buggy snapped at his crew, then grumbled and let out another cough before turning to Y/n, “Thank you.” He choked out.

Y/n smiled at him, she always had such a soft smile when she looked at him. It seemed like every time she addressed him she had bedroom eyes, a dreamy smile on her lips, painted with black lipstick.

“I couldn’t let you drown.” She said to him, she blinked softly, her dark eyelashes were enchanting.

Buggy let out a shaky laugh, then slowly pulled himself up, “I’m gonna—…” he started, nearly falling over but he quickly found his balance, “—dry myself off.”

“Let me help you!” Y/n chimed as she sprung up as well, helping Buggy to the lower decks, rushing to where they kept all of the towels, getting Buggy the ones that were already clean and sitting in the dryer.

Buggy was wrapped up in towels, he could still taste the nasty water in his mouth, and his nostrils burned lightly, “I should really stop standing so close to the edge…” he muttered hoarsely. Y/n chuckled as she dried him off, rubbing his shoulders through the towels in soft circles.

“Nothing wrong with being clumsy, Captain.” She said, which in turn Buggy gave her a look.

“I’m not clumsy! It’s the damn wind… damn seasons changing.” He grumbled, which made Y/n laugh again. His cheeks blushed a bright red, if this was anyone else on his crew saying this… he would’ve chucked them overboard instantly, however he had to admit he found himself having a bias towards Y/n, due to her being absolutely gorgeous… and being the best chef he’s ever had in ages. Buggy didn’t think he could survive without her homemade hotdogs.

Sometimes Buggy wondered, why was Y/n so eager to join his crew in the first place? She was strong, hot, she could’ve stayed on her own and worked her way up at the restaurant she was working at but she snuck into a barrel on his ship and challenged his previous chef. Y/n made him the best pot roast he ever had and it instantly won him over. She would make him tons of food, feeding him more than his other crew mates(not that he was complaining about it) but why? He shouldn’t be anything special to a woman like her, he was just a dirty old clown, but for some reason she seemed to like spoiling him with meals.

“Hey…” Buggy looked back at her, “You’re not planning to kill me are you?” He looks at her with a suspicious glint in his eyes, something that would threaten any of his subordinates, however Y/n remained calm.

“Of course not.” Y/n chuckled, “Why would you think that?” She asked, it was a question out of curiosity, not a hint of guilt or intimidation in her voice.

Buggy looked forward, “You’re just so…” he couldn’t think of what exactly he was worried about, “Confusing.” He grumbled. There was a long silence, she started to dry off his torso.

“You’re powerful in your own right, you can go anywhere you want… but yet you’re here, with me.” He continued, “And you’re so damn generous. You make the best food I’ve ever tasted.”

“Is that something to complain about?” Y/n asked, gently taking off his hat and drying off his long flowing hair(which truthfully he hadn’t washed in days).

“Well— no.” Buggy stammered, then looked up at her, tilting his head back, looking at her upside down, “But why me?” He liked to talk big, but he knew that there were far more threatening people on these seas that would seem to be of Y/n’s caliber, men out there more worthy of having someone like her on their crew.

Y/n paused for a moment, looking down at him with her glimmering eyes. She then turned away, looking like she was going to get more towels but she was just fidgeting around with them, “Why not?” She asked.

Buggy frowned, then suddenly stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, making her face him, “CAN YOU STOP ANSWERING MY QUESTIONS WITH ANOTHER DAMN QUESTION?!” He shouted, shaking her lightly, “TELL ME WHY YOU’RE HERE!!!”

“It's because I like you!!” Y/n cried out, then suddenly pulled away and turned her back towards him, covering her face. Buggy paused for a moment, stepping back. She… what? He then noticed she was sniffling, did he make the poor girl cry? There was a soft pain in his chest when he heard those sniffles, he felt terrible.

He stepped back over to her, then turned her back around.

“This is so humiliating-” She began, but before she could get another word out, Buggy connected his lips with hers.

It was a soft kiss, but it was passionate nonetheless. However Buggy hadn’t kissed anyone since he was in his 20s, so he was a bit rusty and had to turn his head awkwardly so he wouldn’t hit her with his damned nose. When he pulled back his face was flushed a bright red. Oh I shouldn’t have done that… He knew pirates didn’t go by any rulebooks or whatnot, but he knew he had committed a dozen conduct violations.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes were wide, she looked so vulnerable and small compared to his large stature, Buggy felt more heat rise to his face, his eyes just as wide as hers. His arms instinctively squeezed around her waist, it was gentle and subtle but it pulled Y/n closer to him. Buggy realized what he was doing and quickly pulled away from her and grabbed his hat, he was quick to rush out of the laundry room. He let out a few grumbles to excuse himself although nothing coherent came out.

Buggy had locked himself away in his quarters for the rest of the evening, he was embarrassed and ashamed. Of course he always wanted to do that, everybody on his crew wanted to get a piece of Y/n, being horny pirates who haven’t seen a woman in ages before she came along and all… he sat at the edge of his bed, hands over his face as he sighed. Well if she wasn’t creeped out before she definitely is now, he growled to himself, Should I apologize? I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now-

His thoughts were halted when he heard a light knock at his door. This was around the time when Y/n would bring him dinner, which made Buggy feel even more terrible. The poor girl was probably so scared she thought she still had to make him food. The captain sighed as he stood up and made his way over to the door, opening it.

“It’s ok Y/n, you don’t have to-” Buggy was interrupted by Y/n stepping into his quarters, she then sighed and turned to look at him once she had entered.

“Was the kiss real?” She asked him, making Buggy speechless for a moment, she then spoke up again, “Or was it just a nervous reflex?”

Buggy thought for a moment, he didn’t know why he went in initially. It just felt like the right thing to do in the moment, “I-…” he felt his cheeks redden again, “Yes.” He croaked, “I’m sorry.” He said, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Don’t be.” Y/n said quietly, stepping closer to him, looking down at the floor, she then looked up at him again and put a hand to his face, cupping his jaw, his stubble prickled at her hand.

“I-… haven’t shaved.” Buggy chuckled nervously. Which made Y/n laugh and lean into kissing him on the lips, “I don’t mind.” She whispered when she pulled away.

One thing led to another, and before Buggy knew it, Y/n was stripped down to her underwear, lying beneath him on his bed. He was shirtless, his hands roamed over her body, he then pulled back and quickly slipped his gloves off with his teeth, tossing them to the side so he could get a good feel of Y/n’s body more thoroughly.

“Damn baby.” Buggy growled under his breath, making Y/n whimper and shiver. His fingers toyed around the hem of her bra strap, then he quickly moved his hands behind her to unclip her bra and toss it to the side. He lowered his face down in her chest and breathed it in.

In all honesty, Buggy didn’t care if he seemed like a perv, he was so lost in the moment that he was acting purely on instinct, though Y/n didn’t seem to mind at all, one of her legs was wrapped around his hips, her hands on his back. Her skin was cold to the touch, which took him aback at first but the warmth from his own body quickly warmed her up.

Buggy maneuvered the position and laid Y/n on her side, his crotch pressed up right against her ass, he lifted one of her legs in the air and detached his free hand, using that to move her panties to the side and rub at her clit. Her whimpers and moans were like sweet music to his ears, she was trembling against him, gasping softly. “Captain…” Y/n whimpered breathily, looking up at him.

“That’s right baby.” Buggy chuckled, watching her jolt and tilt her head back when he pushed deeper into her, groaning softly at the way her pussy swallowed his fingers. He added another one, until he got his whole hand inside of her, he thrusted in and out, she was already soaking wet, dripping onto him. Her moans grew, she panted heavily.

Buggy took his hand off of her leg to unzip his pants, fishing his cock out and letting it pop off, floating it over to Y/n’s mouth. His tip brushed against her soft lips, he gripped her chin firmly, “Open up, babygirl.” He said behind a devious grin. Y/n opened her mouth, then gagged against him as he slid his cock slowly down her throat until she took him all the way down to the base. Buggy let out a guttural grunt as her mouth squeezed around him. He thrusted his cock back and forth in her mouth while he thrusted his hand in and out of her pussy, essentially fucking her from both ends.

“You’re so fucking good.” Buggy groaned, “Letting an old clown like me use you like this…” he chuckled dryly, “You might be more of a freak than me.” He laughed. As Buggy thrusted his cock and hand in and out of her, he watched her breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts, he licked his lips, it was so arousing and it urged him to thrust deeper and faster into her throat, his balls hitting her chin as he fucked her face. Y/n’s eyes were rolled back, she was gagging and whimpering against his cock, juice splashing from her wet pussy as Buggy used her.

“Good girl…” Buggy growled deeply, “You’re being so good for your captain…” he grinned.

Buggy felt that familiar twinge in his cock, he groaned deeply, getting so close to spilling in her throat— but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to plunge inside of her. He quickly pulled his cock out of her mouth with a soft ‘pop’ from her lips before he could climax, then slid his hand out of her pussy. They were both panting heavily, Buggy’s cock hanging mid air, still hard yet dripping with her saliva. Y/n finally got a good look at it, his cock was big, veiny and girthy, with a fluff of thick blue hair feathering at the base of it, she remembered the way it had tickled her nose when he was fucking her face seconds ago.

Buggy turned Y/n’s face so she could face him, he kissed her on the lips, gently patting her on the cheek, “You can take me well, huh?” He chuckled, then his cock flew between her legs, pushing itself into her gaping pussy, making her gasp and arch her back, then let out another loud moan.

“That’s it.” Buggy chuckled, then grunted once he crammed himself deep inside, “Yes…” he moaned deeply.

He didn’t waste any time, thrusting with just as much force as when he had his cock in her mouth. Y/n gripped at the pillows, Buggy held her by the waist as their grunts and moans filled the room, his crummy bed squeaked beneath them. Buggy fucked her roughly, slamming his cock in and out of her, keeping her legs wide open for him as she trembled and squirmed. Y/n moaned his name out, whimpering and arching her back all for him. Buggy kissed her on the neck, then sucked on that area of skin, he hadn’t felt this good in so long, he didn’t know how he got this lucky.

“Captain!” Y/n moaned out again, her hips staggering, letting him know she was close.

“Just let it out baby…” Buggy groaned against her neck, “Let it all out, show me how good this cock is.”

Y/n’s pussy clenched around his cock, she came around him, coating his cock in that sweet cream. She let out a loud breath, then whimpered when Buggy continued to thrust, panting rhythmically.

Buggy was seeing stars, groaning and grunting as he plowed into Y/n, getting closer and closer to spilling out inside of her. “Can I-…” he grunted out, gasping before he could even get a word out from being so winded, “Bust inside…?”

Y/n gave him a nod, “Please.” She whimpered to him.

It didn’t take long before Buggy let out a deep grunt, holding Y/n tightly as he came inside of her, filling her up with sperm. Their sweaty bodies were pressed against each other, Buggy was so close to falling limp, it felt like all of the energy he had was drained out of him in an instant. He rolled over on his back, cock sliding out of her as his hands reconnected to his wrists.

“Holy fuck…” Buggy winced.

Y/n giggled, panting just as heavily but having more energy despite all of this. She rolled over as well and snuggled up against his side, holding his face again, noticing how he was completely flushed, his face was so red it looked like his nose was glowing too, she could help but laugh at that.

“You’re so cute, captain.” She kissed him on the cheek. No doubt the entire crew heard their love-making but Buggy was too exhausted to deal with it right now, hell he didn’t think he could even pull himself out of bed.

He turned to look at Y/n, then giggled at her, “You have a very odd taste in men.”

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy d clown #buggy d goat #op buggy #buggy op #opla #opla buggy #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece smut #buggy smut

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 7 months

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1970 Dodge Challenger

The legend returns: Unveiling the powerful 1970 Dodge Challenger ‘Black Ghost’ with its iconic HEMI V8 engine

Posted on March 4, 2024

Emerging from its mysterious past as a street drag racer piloted by a police officer, the 1970 Dodge Challenger “Black Ghost” has now claimed the title of the most coveted classic Mopar.

Honoring its legacy, Dodge has introduced a contemporary tribute based on the 2023 Challenger Hellcat Redeye Widebody. In addition to this homage, the enigmatic “Black Ghost” is gearing up for its moment in the spotlight at an upcoming auction.

Captivating audiences at Kissimmee 2023 in January, the “Black Ghost” was proudly displayed alongside its contemporary counterpart. For those eager to witness its numbers-matching 426-cubic-inch (7.0-liter) HEMI V8 come to life, YouTube’s “DtRockstar1” recently shared footage of the legendary vehicle making its grand appearance at a few classic car events.

Although the video doesn’t showcase drag racing or burnouts, the striking all-black 1970 Challenger, now road-worthy after years in storage, is a breathtaking sight. Remarkably, the car remains in near-original condition, save for a few upgrades like a rebuilt brake booster, new carbs, radiator, master cylinder, and tires.

But what truly sets the “Black Ghost” apart from other classic cars, and how did it earn its intriguing moniker?

The original owner, Godfrey Qualls, was a Detroit police officer by day and a secretive drag racer by night. Risking his career, he would make unexpected appearances at local gatherings, dominate quarter-mile races, and then mysteriously vanish.

While Godfrey’s Challenger wasn’t entirely stock during its racing heyday, he kept modifications minimal, opting for a muffler delete, an aftermarket coil, and slick rear tires on stock wheels.

The HEMI V8’s impressive 425-horsepower output was more than enough for him to claim countless victories before disappearing for good in 1975. By then, the “Black Ghost” had already secured its legendary status in Detroit.

The enigmatic Challenger driver’s true identity remained a secret for decades until Godfrey revealed his thrilling drag-racing tales to his son, Gregory. Inheriting the car when his father passed away, Gregory brought the “Black Ghost” to light in 2017, sharing the astounding story of officer Qualls and his legendary vehicle.

Beyond its captivating history, this Mopar is an exceptional rarity from the golden age of muscle cars. Of the nearly 77,000 Challengers sold in 1970, a mere 356 were equipped with the formidable 426-cubic-inch HEMI V8. Godfrey’s choice of a four-speed manual gearbox further refines the car’s status to one of just 136 produced.

But the exclusivity doesn’t end there. With the added SE package, it’s one of only 60 Challengers ordered with the bundle. Considering the color and other options, it’s possible that fewer than 10 such examples were ever made.

In summary, this Challenger is the epitome of rarity, boasting a captivating story worthy of a book. It stands as a highly collectible classic that could very well be more valuable than any other 1970 Challenger in existence.

#dodge challenger #hemi #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld #dodge #challenger

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uhardite · 9 months

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3 types of goal setters

── most people are a balance of all three, but one personality is more dominant than the others

୨୧ visionary (20+ goals)

strong intuition and self-motivated, have various visions for their life, can easily get started on their goals but can't stay consistent, can't prioritise well since it feels limiting to them, quick and spontaneous, have flexibility in their planning, have the least attention span out of the three, have the tendency to drop goals when it no longer aligns to them, low sense of direction

୨୧ disciplined (10 goals)

focused, ambitious, have a clear plan, impatient to achieve their goals, need to set measurable goals that they can be proud of, mostly career or health driven, unbalanced in the aspect of relationships, spirituality, family, etc, can push themselves the best, focus on the end result more than the journey, often experience burnout and stress

୨୧ intentional (1 to 5 goals)

very intentional with their goals, have a strong purpose and a well-defined "why", stay focused easily, but resistant to change, have difficulty in starting on their goals, lack motivation and energy, get overwhelmed by their goals, start slow, but can finish their goals once they gain momentum

advice for goal-setting

each of the personalities should have a life vision, an yearly vision and a quarterly vision (these are not goals, but a general outlook on how you want to feel and be)

visionary goal setter: -> set short term, monthly goals aligned to your vision -> gives you flexibility, you can stay committed to your current goals while implementing new ideas to your goals in the next month -> focus on creating a clear morning and evening routine, helps to stay grounded and avoid overwhelm

disciplined goal setter: -> focus on creating a well-rounded yearly and quarterly vision -> rate the different areas of your life and see what you need to pay more attention to -> set measurable, quarterly goals -> create different lists of ways to take care of yourself when you are stressed, overwhelmed, etc -> reflect frequently, slow down and take breaks

intentional goal setter: -> write down your vision, don't keep it in your head -> set yearly goals, break them down into short term goals if needed -> keep track for the next step of your goal, to maintain steady momentum -> create a bucketlist for the year (not a list of goals), to get out of your comfort zone and add variety

── this is the video i got all these from

youtube

#wonyoungism #it girl #dream life #becoming that girl #that girl #glow up #daily routine #productivity #clean girl #girlblog #dream girl #girlblogging #pink pilates girl #pink pilates princess #it girl energy #self improvement #Youtube

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xenosagaepisodeone · 2 years

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I have so many thoughts about how people who were effectively shunted out of participating in society due to autism/adhd are now effectively excluded from wider conversations about how to help people with autism/adhd thrive since the conversation is dominated by like, professionals who sometimes get imposter syndrome, people who think 'gifted kid burnout' is a neurodivergent exclusive trait, emotionally manipulative creative types, tech industry psychopaths. all of my neurodivergent friends who didn't end up with the Monetizeable Tech Interest either did not complete high school or scraped by and have no/the utmost minimum college experience.

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haileytarotreadings · 4 months

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PAC Reading for June 9th-15th

please choose one of the piles intuitively, or you can choose them according to the dominant element in your chart.

P.s. Free tarot and astrology readings are available, and also paid 18+ readings.

PILE 1

Pile 1 you may be in a place of confusion and dilemma as most of what you thought was stable around you is just a facade, but do not fret as these things which are clearing themselves out aren’t for you. There are new opportunities and people waiting for you. You’re a leader and most people gravitate towards you. Pile 1 i can see here that you’ll be taking a leadership role at your work/school, you may even travel regarding to this. I see signs about travelling with a lot of luggage and children for some of you, maybe it is a transfer. Pile 1 i can also see that you’re in a leadership position for sure, this week you’re the boss, you’re the mom friend if it’s a trip with your friends. You lead everyone around you to success this week and you win socially due to your charisma. You may get new and creative ideas at work which will garner you the well deserved recognition. I can see that you’ll be getting even more opportunities towards the end of the week, but you’ll be saying no to them. Contemplate your choices wisely pile 1 as you may be reaching the finish line for something in your life. The whole week is a very fun and socially active week for you pile 1. Take care!!

PILE 2

Pile 2 the first message I received for you is that there’s something happening with a car, so be vigilant and drive safely. For some of you it could be that you may be getting a new car. I can see that you’re really caring and passionate pile 2, maybe someone close to you is getting married or celebrating something very personal and wants you there. The cards tell me that you’re going to travel this week, for most of you it’s for some kind of celebration. As the caring person that you’re, you will be going to attend this event to support your loved one. I get the message that most of you will be meeting a water sign who is really into you at this event. They have this kind of caring and nurturing energy to them, just like you pile 2. I can see that you’re also worrying over something which didn’t go as you hoped, by the guides tell me that you’ll be fine as long as you make choice pile 2. They tell me you’re missing out on other opportunities while being too focused on the ones you lost. Make a quick decision pile 2, the results may pleasantly surprise you. The whole week is filled with you supporting a loved one at an event and also too busy being pursued by this water sign. Also if you’re seeing any master numbers know that it’s a sign from the universe. Take care!!

PILE 3

Pile 3 have any of you seen any eagles lately? If not you may see one this week. Most of you are overworking yourselves for a goal. You may have set this goal for yourself and I can also see that the deadline is approaching. For some of you, self limiting thoughts might put you in a damp mood, so try to remind yourself about how far you’ve come. I can also see that you have all the resources at your disposal to work towards this goal and that you’re working very hard to reach it. Some of you might be waiting for someone to come back to you, the universe is saying that you’re mourning over what isn’t right for you, when the right things are just around you and you haven’t noticed. Some of you might go to a campfire or bird watching activities this weekend and might meet some new friends who will be of help to you with reaching this goal. Connect with nature whenever you can pile 3, because nature has most of the solutions we just need to look for them. Some of you might be working with a partner but you’re not sharing the work equally, pile 3 you’re taking most of the burden which isn’t good, because it will lead to burnout. Please take care!!!

PILE 4

Pile 4 I can see some big changes for you, there are multiple good opportunities coming your way. You’ll be taking up a good position, which will require you to make a few sacrifices. I can also see some romance in the air this week for you pile 4. There might be someone who is very flirtatious coming towards you, you might think they’re just be unserious but don’t believe everything you see pile 4 because these people might just be the one you always wanted. You’re also trying to work without ruffling others’ feathers but they’re looking to start drama pile 4, so be more cautious. Grounding yourself and meditating will help keep your emotions in control and not lose cool in front of your colleagues and subordinates. There are people working to plan your downfall so be very vigilant about whom you trust. You’re having a spiritual awakening this week due to which you may receive whatever you visualize this week, so be careful what you wish for pile 4. Other than that, your week is quite exciting with love at the horizon. Take care pile 4!!

Thank you for participating in this reading. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. Will upload an astrology related post soon. Take care!!!!

©️haileytarot

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sitkowski · 3 months

Text

in the night hours (jolly x f!reader for ladyveronikawrites)

a prompt request for the absolutely wonderful @ladyveronikawrites!! 💜 it comes from the domestic fluff prompt list: #18-brushing your hair

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ subby!Jolly, slightly dominant f!reader, aftercare, hair brushing, angst, post tour burnout, praise kink, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering.

title comes from "war of hearts" by ruelle. divider by @saradika-graphics

word count: 1.8k

⇉ masterlist | taglist signups

When you get home from work, there’s a pile of luggage in the foyer, and that’s your only indication that he’s home. You feel the slightest hint of dread, because he didn’t even text you like he normally does. Tours can wear him down, especially the longer ones, but he always texts if you’re not home when he gets there. You think about calling out to him, but decide to just find him instead.

He’s in the overstuffed chair in your bedroom, asleep. His head is tilted to the side, hood of his favorite hockey hoodie pulled up. He has his arms crossed over his chest, legs sprawled out. As you get closer to him, you see that his phone is on his leg, still open to your text message thread. He couldn’t even stay awake long enough to send you the message he intended.

“Jolly,” you call softly, patting his cheek. He stirs almost immediately, exhaustion in his eyes giving way to relief of seeing you. “Hey love, why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I wanted to be up when you got here…” Jolly yawns and pushes his hood off, sits up a little straighter in the chair and starts to pull you into his lap. “I missed you.”

You miss him, always, when he’s on the road. The few visits you get to make aren’t enough and you have to hold yourselves over with phone calls, texts, video chats. You live for the days he gets to come home, but he’s always run down and half catatonic the first few days. Eventually, he’s able to perk up, especially when the breaks are longer.

He frowns a little when you resist letting him pull you down, and you shake your head. “What you need is a shower. Wash off the plane. Get in comfy clothes and get into bed.”

“But—”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Joakim.” You try to make your voice as stern as you can, knowing the only way he’ll take care of himself is if you make him.

“Okay.”

“When you’re done, I’ll brush your hair for you, if you want.”

The suggestion brings a look to his face you can’t really decipher. But he just nods, setting his phone aside and going towards the bathroom, shedding his hoodie and t-shirt along the way. Once he’s gone, you let out a shuddering breath. You go and drag his suitcases into the laundry room to have something to do. You plug in his phone to charge so he doesn’t forget. When you come back into the bedroom, he’s already there waiting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a pair of sweats and a ratty t-shirt—the same one of his you’d wear to bed most of the tour while he was gone—and holding his brush.

“I’ve…” he clears his throat. “I’ve never had someone brush my hair before.”

You knew that, it was why you offered. You just wanted to do something nice for him that no one had ever done before. Taking the brush when he holds it out, you gently put a hand on his shoulder and nudge him just a little so he turns his back to you. You gather his hair, bringing it all over his shoulders, running your fingers through the damp strands and scratching the nape of his neck affectionately. He lets out a little sigh, head tipping forward.

“Ah,” you reach forward and put your hand beneath his chin. “Head up, love.”

Jolly does as you ask, and you run your fingers down his throat before straightening up and starting to brush his hair. You take your time, working section by section, from the crown of his head to the ends. You treat it as if it’s the only time you’ll ever be able to do this, and as if it’s a gift you could give him.

He leans back into you, just enough that you feel his shoulders moving with each breath he takes. Each soft sound he makes as you bring the brush through pulls at something in your chest. Finally, you set the brush down, letting your chin rest on top of his head for a second.

“Think you could sleep now?”

He tips his head back until your eyes meet. “Not really.”

You do your best to hide your smile, trying to at least remain a little stern. “You’ve got to be tired, love. We don’t do anything tonight—”

“I need…” Jolly takes a breath, your name leaving his lips on the exhale. “I need you. Just…”

“Okay, okay,” you put your finger over his lips, cutting him off. “I’ll always take care of you, Joakim, you know that.”

He looks up at you with relief and when you take his hand and pull him up, he goes willingly. You guide him back to the chair you found him in when you got home, giving him a gentle shove until he sits. It’s like this sometimes too, when he comes home. You’re more than happy to give him what he needs, take the edge off for the night. Bracing your hands on the arms of the chair, you lean in, brushing your mouth across his teasingly. When he tries to lean into the kiss, you raise your eyebrows and wait until he settles before pressing your lips to his more firmly. The needy noise he lets out travels right through you, and you squeeze your thighs together.

Pulling back, you sink down between his spread knees. He stares down at you in awe, and it makes you feel powerful. You run your hands up his thighs, hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats, and Jolly lifts his hips obligingly. You weren’t going to make it obvious that you knew he’d been hard since you started brushing his hair, but his cock twitches in your hand the second you’ve barely touched him and he lets his head thump back against the chair.

“Eyes on me, love.” you whisper, before you rise up further on your knees to take him in your mouth.

He does what you ask, always. And when he curls one of his big hands around the back of your head, it isn’t to push you down or pull, it’s to keep himself grounded. You draw in a breath, keeping your eyes locked with his as you dip your head and take him down as far as you can, until your eyes water and your throat constricts. His hips twitch up, just once, but you pull back just enough. He murmurs your name, an apology, slips back into that controlled space you know he keeps to so well when you want him to. Wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, you bring your mouth down to meet your fist, eyes fluttering closed.

His fingers brush your cheek, feeling himself there, and you revel in each breathless plea that he makes. You know that he won’t last long, and it’s not your intention to drag this out. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least that you’re working him over so quickly. When his fingers wind into your hair, you nod a little, letting him know it’s okay to pull. You relax your jaw and let him guide you, and he chokes out a grateful sob above you.

“I can come in your mouth right?”

You nod more insistently, raising your eyes to his to find him still watching you like you told him. Bracing your hands on his trembling thighs, you press yourself down, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Instead of lifting back up, you stay where you are, knowing that will be his undoing. Your name is tangled up in the hoarse cry he lets out when he comes, and you swallow it all.

When you lift off, he starts pulling on your hands insistently, trying to get you closer. Rising to your feet, you tug your panties from beneath your skirt and kick them away, letting him pull you into his lap. His mouth collides with yours desperately, chasing the taste of himself across your tongue and you soothe your hands against the sides of his face, trying to get him to settle. After a few moments he does, pulling back and brushing kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose. He traces his fingers over your bottom lip and you give him a coy look before opening your mouth to him, letting him ease the digits in until you feel the edges of your mouth ache again. Your tongue slides between them, and it makes your stomach twist pleasantly.

“Let me make you feel good, please,” he begs, moaning when your teeth dig into his middle finger. “Please…”

Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you pull his fingers from your mouth and guide them under the hem of your skirt. You’re soaked and his wet fingers slide between your folds easily, making your eyes roll back as he immediately slips two inside and nudges his thumb against your clit.

“Oh, good fucking boy,” you gasp out, rocking up on your knees.

His mouth curves up in a knowing smile as his fingers curve inside you, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. You grind down against his hand, fingernails digging into the chair on either side of his head. Jolly knows you as well as you know him, inside and out and everything in between, and before you know it, you’re chasing your own orgasm, your face pressed into his chest, teeth catching on fabric and the skin beneath to muffle the noises crawling from your throat.

“I wanna make you come,” he says into your hair. “I’ve been good for you, please, baby, come for me, that’s it…”

He trails off as your hips stutter and you lift your head to kiss him again, letting him swallow the wail you let out as you come on his fingers. Collapsing into his chest, you laugh breathlessly and press your mouth to his neck above his shirt collar, hips twitching as his fingers tease into you a few more times before he pulls them out and they leave a wet trail on your thigh.

“Someone might need a second shower.” You observe, sitting upright and looking at him. His nose wrinkles at the prospect. “C’mon love, we’re a mess and those sheets are clean.”

He huffs out a breath, but relents, rising up with you still astride his hips so he can pull up his sweats before he stands up suddenly. You squeal in surprise, trying to protest through your laughter as he carries you into the bathroom.

Tomorrow, you’ll call out of work to stay close to him all day, and it’ll be worth it.

⇉ taglist:

@malice-ov-mercy @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @baddestomens

@dominuslunae

@deathblacksmoke @collapsedglasshouses @collidewiththesavannah @thatchickwiththecamera

#jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x f!reader #bad omens fic #discord prompt fills #.ficbysitkowski

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