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milla-frenchy · 2 months ago

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Emily, you gotta stop making me fall in love with all your characters 🥲(jk keep goin' 😌😌😌)

Frankie is such a sweetheart!! I love how sweet he was, and funny and caring with her. How he was able to read her, even before they spoke to each other 😍😍

The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call ‘Catfish’ – he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that he’s just as funny and generous as the others. Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive. You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; he’s quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friends’ laughter – it’s obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms.

I think I fell in love with him right here (yes, I can fall quickly 😅)

You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night. Once settled in, that’s when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it. Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening. So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot. You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

Ooooh poor baby girl 🥲

He asks kindly after your book before saying he’s going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help – he tells you he’s got it before disappearing into the kitchen. Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, there’s no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and you’re just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, “Do you want me to show you how to make the coffee?”

Damnnnnnn he's perfect

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat

Belly shaking laughs are the best 🥰🥰🥰

Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit. Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.

They're so cute

Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night. The first night, it’s to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies – all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.

He's a dream!!! I want him for christmas 😌😌

“Good. I’m glad. Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

Oh please 🥰🥰🥰

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.” Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement. Next time.

Perfect perfect perfect aaaaw he's such a sweetheart

(ps: loved reading your a/n 2 🙏)

Brandy by the Fireplace

7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader

Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.

Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you 🥹). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?

A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you know🤭🤭 Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!

A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... ��😅

Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘😘

This was such an effing mistake.

You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that you’ve called bed for the last two nights. You’re holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonight’s bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.

I shouldn’t have come.

A ruined sweater in and of itself wasn’t the end of world. But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? It’s just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.

And you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriend’s cabin for a week, you had readily agreed. You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (“We’re the better Bennifer! Woo - Benny and Jenny!!”). He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist – something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things they’ve seen over their time in service.

It apparently did wonders for them. Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didn’t see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love. Jenny assured you that Benny’s other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.

Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boys’ annual Autumn weeklong trip – taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter. All the boys would be there and Tom’s sisters had been invited as well – Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.

Sure, you’re a city girl through and through, but this wouldn’t be your first cottaging experience. You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommate’s family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friend’s family’s 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided. Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie. It was always such a treat to go - you haven’t visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.

Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Benny’s truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous.

When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week. The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins. Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin – consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compound’s one bathroom. All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tom’s Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).

You’re not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, you’ve come thoroughly unprepared for your week’s stay. For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens. Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed aren’t warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night. For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.

The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows).

It's definitely more rustic that you’re used to, but you really do try to make the best of it. The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations. Sure, it isn’t the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but it’s still incredibly beautiful and serene here. Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them. You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isn’t… cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.

You also don’t forget that the entire reason you’re here is to support Jenny. Make sure she and Benny have fun. And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun. No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship she’s had in years.

And honestly, everyone is so, so nice. Benny and Will’s Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are. There’s Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew – his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies. Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious – the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends. Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny. Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you don’t think Will has any interest in you – and with Tom’s gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if there’s anything to Jenny's (and possibly Benny’s?) matchmaking.

Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.

They just… don’t really need you here. Well, that seems presumptuous! Rather, there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.

It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what you’re told) to put it together and get it out on the water. Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting – when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasn’t actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed. No one ever did. The trampoline never got installed, and you can’t help but think it was partially because you hadn’t been able to provide the additional muscle needed.

During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pump’s aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.

All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.

Jenny wasn’t terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didn’t mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.

Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to… do nothing? It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you. And even inside there's not much you can do; Tom’s sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to “go have fun”. You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.

You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like you’re distracting them from their duties.

Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldn’t find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) – you’re sure there’s a system, you just don’t know what it is.

Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time you’re meeting everyone except Benny and Will. You don’t know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place – you don’t want be a bother or ruin anyone’s good time.

To you, it's clear that you’re not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You don’t fit in and you definitely don’t belong.

Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable. After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores. In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air. Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter you’re sure you’ll still feel it in the morning. But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyone’s up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others. When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that it’ll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed. You’re sure everyone is thinking that you’re just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work. Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand don’t look as appetizing anymore.

Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening. So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot. You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores. Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like you’ve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.

On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie who’s transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms. You don’t ask if you can help – how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one.

When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tom’s sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, “Saved you some breakfast!” His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.

You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack. Pouring yourself the coffee that’s left in the cannister, you grimace at it’s lukewarmness, but you don’t know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.

It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.

Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale. He smiles at your willing face, wondering why you’re so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankie’s sure there’s more to it than he’s understanding.

He's been watching you, Benny’s girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out. It’s clear that you’re not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you don’t complain or make fun – though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well. You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you – but for some reason, you don’t seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldn’t be the Army strategist he is if he didn’t notice. Or a very good host.

“Do you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?”

“A row?” You look up, confused.

“Yeah, in the row boat. Come on – this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before it’s done,” nods Frankie, encouragingly.

This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and you’re surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture. Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.

Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm. He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper. Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you. The ripples and flex of Frankie’s bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

You look up, ashamed. You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard. Even if the others could tell you weren’t having fun, you hope you haven’t come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad. You’re about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause. It’s like he’s genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what you’ve been bottling up since you got here – maybe that’s why he brought you out to the middle of the lake? Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, “I’m not!! I’m so sorry, Frankie!!”

Hurriedly, you try to compensate, “Goodness, please don’t think I’m complaining – it’s so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place! Honestly, your care and hard work really shows – everything is so nice. It’s just really, really different from the one other cottage experience I’ve had – so I didn’t even pack right. And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around – I really don't know what to do with myself here.”

“Where did you cottage before?”

“The Muskokas?”

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.

“Well, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you! The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience – real pretty and real glamourous. But the rest of us? What we have aren’t even cottages. They’re cabins. This is cabin country,” he laughs good naturedly.

“Right - cabins!” you grin.

“Sorry to disappoint you, City Girl.”

“No, no! Please don’t think that - I’m not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, that’s all. That’s all on me, Frankie. Really, the cabin is lovely – I was just expecting a more… cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.” You hope Frankie won’t take your joke the wrong way.

Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you haven’t had a chance to notice before, “Yeah, we’re more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.”

At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.

Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, “Hey, pretty girl, it’s okay.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, “No it’s not, Frankie. You’re right – everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me. I’m not used to this kind work, so I don’t really know what needs to get done… and even if I did… I mean you saw with the catamaran? I’m not strong or skilled enough to do any of it. I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I don’t know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me. So… I don’t know what I’m doing here – it doesn’t feel right to be sitting around and reading like I’m some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also don’t think I can add value anywhere. I just don’t think I belong out here with you guys. And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I don’t fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it. I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.”

You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.

Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, “You’re no trouble at all, pretty girl. It’s okay if this place is too rustic for ya. It’s really rustic… and that’s by design.” He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, “I know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys? We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions. All our missions, actually. The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much that’s been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building. It’s meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do… tearing down. For the most part, the cabin has been good for us – working with our hands, being responsible for something that isn’t life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each other’s company in a setting that’s not… exploding.”

Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic. He’s relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle. He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind – he might easily get lost in them if he didn’t remember that he’s supposed to be comforting you, “It really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what you’re saying, it’s not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no one’s doing it on purpose. I’m sorry – we should be better hosts. You’re our guest.”

You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, “Tell you what, it’s my turn to make lunch today - why don’t you come and help me. I’ll show you where we keep everything so you’ll know in case you ever want to… help out in the kitchen again. I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it won’t bother me at all.”

Perking up at Frankie’s generous offer, you nod happily, “Okay! Thank you, Frankie – that’s really sweet of you.” It’s probably the first truly joyful smile you’ve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.

The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes. Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes. You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.

His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, “Is there anything else, City Girl?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Is there anything else that's been bothering you while you’re out here?”

You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you don’t want to push it and appear to complain.

“Come on, I know there is. Go on, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl – there’s that term of endearment again. This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes – and maybe your thighs press together a little, too. To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, “Ummmm… it’s kind of spooky at night.”

Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, “It’s just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another. I guess I’m used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around. It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.” You cover your eyes, “Plus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a… cottage. I definitely didn’t bring warm enough clothes. I brought a TON of self-care stuff though – maybe I should try layering some face masks.” It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.

Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, “Ok, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with. The spookiness… got to circle back to that.”

“Thanks, Frankie.” You mean it sincerely. Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.

---

After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone. You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist – Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city. You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You don’t know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.

The next day, you’re returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boys’ property.

It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds. The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.

From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that it’s Frankie chopping wood.

Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces he’s set up on the chopping block with precision and power. His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.

Though Frankie’s breathing is heavy, you can tell he isn’t even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.

Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.

"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"

Shit.

Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, “Oh, ummm… you look like you have it pretty well handled. Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.”

Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, “Could you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there? And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?”

You nod enthusiastically. Frankie’s making work for you and you’re so thankful and excited to help.

For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs. When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry – it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest. You don’t tell Frankie that he doesn’t look like he needs any rest at all – your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankie’s broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed. It’s similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like… a hundred times more burly.

You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankie’s sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle. When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.

Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure you’re not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.

He takes you out in Benny’s truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat. These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road. Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour you’ve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.

You’re getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen. Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.

Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting. But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted – his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing.

The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones they’ve never played before. You’ve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when you’re too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.

Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.

“I know what you’re doing,” you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.

“I’m getting pampered,” Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.

“You’ve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I don’t have to lie here in the dark and be scared,” you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted man’s goodness.

You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, “Has it been working?”

“Yes and thank you. And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too – the nights feels way cozier now.”

“Good. I’m glad. Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankie’s joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.

It’s the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire. You’re nice and snug in Frankie’s hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like you’ve barely seen this whole week – she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and you’re over the moon seeing her so completely in love. The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week. Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell.

The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyone’s list being packing. About halfway through tonight’s bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by. You’re just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tom’s sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankie’s dulcet baritone low in your ear, “Hey, City Girl, can I show you something?”

Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin. He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp. The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankie’s laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm – he must have been stoking it for a while. In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area. In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.

“Frankie, what’s all this?” you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.

Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, “Wasn’t able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.”

Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure. For you.

“Thank you, Frankie. This is perfect. But if I’m being honest, I’ve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,” you tease.

“Good,” the tenor of Frankie’s voice is warm with the undercurrent of what’s not yet been spoken out loud.

As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around what’s happening between the two of you. Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until you’re practically in Frankie’s lap. The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankie’s face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.

With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankie’s soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth. Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.

Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours – the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting. This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until you’re both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.

“Oh Frankie,” your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion. His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.

As your hands go to run through Frankie’s soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud. Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.

You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.

“Been wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,” admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.

Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, you’re surprised but can’t help teasing, “What took you so long, Morales?”

Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, “Wasn’t sure you would want to. Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.”

Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasn’t just being facetious! But you quickly cup Frankie’s face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, “I don’t know anything about that. But what I do know is that I can’t resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone I’m not. You, Frankie – I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.”

Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more. This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise. You sigh as Frankie’s tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.

“Querida,” he murmurs, “when we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?”

Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankie’s chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, “I’d love that, Frankie.”

The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankie’s hard chest pressed up against your back. Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you can’t help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back. Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didn’t feel quite so innocent anymore. Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest. Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, City Girl. Did you sleep okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Slept perfect, Frankie. Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.”

Frankie chuckles, “I like waking up with you like this, pretty girl. Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.”

Shyly, you gaze into Frankie’s eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, “I like it too, Frankie. Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.”

After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.

Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, “Wanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?”

��Sure! What about Santi and Will?” You can’t help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.

“They can go with Benny. Or Tom. Well at least Santi can ride with Tom. Don’t think Tom’s sisters will let Will into Tom’s truck,” Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.

“Omigod! I meant to ask Jenny about that – what happened??”

Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, “Tell you on the way home, querida.”

---

A few hours later, everyone’s packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.

“Ready to go, City Girl?” grins Frankie, “Bet you can’t wait to get home.”

Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, “It’s not that bad here.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse. Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, “Cottage country ain’t got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?”

You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankie’s holds out to you over the centre console, “Only the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.”

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.”

Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement. Next time.

#frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fmrecs #604to647

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misstokyo7love · 6 months ago

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Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!! 💖✨️💖

Awww…thank you for spoiling me with all your beautiful stories 🥰

#604to647

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perotovar · 8 months ago

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Happy happy birthday! Thanks for being such a cool bean 🫘 🥹

ahh you're so sweet for saying so! thank you, honey 🥹

#604to647 #asks #bday2k24

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aurorawritestoescape · 8 months ago

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Good morning!

🤭🤭🤭

Ahahahha thank you, love!! I laughed out loud at that😆😆😆

Good morning to you, lovely! Here it’s 7 pm and I’m already drunk at a work party😅😘 MUAH! Love you 💖🌺

#ask💕#lovely 604to647

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wildemaven · 1 month ago

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Oh my goodness! I’m so happy you enjoyed this! I really appreciate that you not only took the time to read it, but to reblog it as well! 💕

I remember having this Random Dad Dave thought last year and thinking how sweet he’d be with his kids around the holidays 🎄

Thanks again for taking the time to read and share!

caught kissing santa | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 1586

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; established relationship/reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

-> note: this literally came to me this morning and i whipped it up during nap time. Not beta’d, so all mistakes and misspelling are my own fault!! -> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“So let me get this straight. You saw Santa last night. In the flesh. Just standing in our living room?”

You hear Dave ask Alice to retell her story again from where you’re standing at the kitchen counter, pouring steamed milk into your coffee. Except this time, he encourages her to tell it at a slower pace so you both could catch every word of it.

“Yeah!! I was thirsty and wanted to get some water. So I got up to go downstairs, but when I got to the stairs I could see him in the living room.” Alice says, sitting across from Dave at the kitchen table where there’s a huge breakfast of pancakes, waffles and all the sweet toppings laid out. Her excitement is infectious. Her innocence is still palpable and going strong, as she states she saw Santa with her own eyes.

“And what was he doing?” Dave encourages Alice to share more as he spoons several helpings of mini chocolate chips onto his stack of pancakes with a hearty serving of peanut butter melting over the top.

“Putting our presents under the tree.” Her words were muffled by a mouth full of sliced strawberries.

“Hmm. I guess that makes sense. Where were you Molly, when all this excitement was going down?” Dave looks over to the youngest of his two girls, who’s been enjoying her own helping of pancakes with a mixture of berries and chocolate chips piled on top.

“Sleeping.” You snicker into your cup at Molly’s blunt response. Her mild temperament was proof enough that the apple doesn’t fall far from the Dave York tree.

You turn and lean against the kitchen counter, so you can watch the rest of their conversation unfold.

It took some convincing to get Dave to go along with your idea of dressing up as the Jolly Man in Red this year. Knowing that Alice gets up every night to get herself a glass of water, it was the perfect set up for her to happen upon. Thankfully Dave folds easy to your convincing pleas and a good make out session on the couch late into the night seals the deal.

Alice had come to you a few weeks ago about the matter. Asking about the validity of whether or not Santa was real. She had heard her friends talking about how they were getting too old to believe in such a silly thing and how it was their parents all along. You could sense the turmoil of her wanting to still believe in the idea of Santa, but also wanting to feel a part of her friend group who seem to be eagerly growing into their not quite pre-teen selves.

As her stepmom, you didn’t feel like it was your place to have such a turning point conversation with her. Wanting to leave that for Dave and Carol to broach the topic with her if it were to come up again, supporting whatever their approach would be. You told Alice that Santa is real and he makes sure to bring a little holiday magic each year to everyone, no matter how old they are. Your answer seemed to satisfy her inquisitive mind and gave you an idea to give her a little extra Christmas gift in case this would be her last year believing in Saint Nick.

“What was Santa doing?” Dave sits back into the chair to take in the rest of what Alice had to say. His arms crossed over his broad chest. Your attention is briefly drawn to the way his gray nightshirt pulls tight over his shoulders and back, then quickly refocusing back to Dave and the girls.

“Putting all the presents under the tree. He had a big bag of them, too.” Her arms stretched out to give him an idea of how big the bag was.

You smile at the way Dave is giving her his full attention. Never letting on that he was the one wearing the suit late into the night as he placed each present under the tree in the living room, while you watched him from where you sat under a blanket on the couch. Snapping a few photos of him as he really got into character with each gift. Pausing every so often, his hands on his waist, complaining how miserable and hot it would be to actually be Santa in the thick red suit and beard for an entire evening. He even warned that your gifts would be lost if you continued to laugh at his misery.

Pushing off the counter, you join the three of them at the table. Settling into the open chair next to Dave, as you continue to sip from the warm coffee in your mug.

“So did you say anything to him? Ask him if he brought you anything special this year?” You ask Alice.

“No! I was worried I would scare him away and that he’d take our presents with him.” Her eyes widened as shakes her head no. It warms your heart hearing her response to this whole situation, the exact reaction you were hoping for.

“Oh! I didn’t even think of that. We wouldn’t want him to take everything away that he brought for us.” You say looking over to Dave who’s smiling into his own cup of coffee.

“He also seemed a little busy once he was done putting all the presents out. So I just went back to bed. Wanted to be surprised when I woke up this morning.” You’re confused by what she means when she said he was busy.

“Busy? How so?” You ask before taking another drink.

“Well—“ She pauses and looks at Dave, as if to search for the right words before continuing, then back to you. “I saw something else before I went back to bed.”

“What would that be?” Dave’s gaze shifts over to you momentarily when he inquires about what exactly Alice saw. Clearing his throat as he adjusts his position in the wooden chair and grabbing for his mug to keep his hands busy, his grip on it tightened and his knee bouncing at a steady pace. His fidgety movements are a telltale sign that he’s anxious— valid, given the way Alice has you all hanging by her every word at the moment.

“I saw you kissing Santa under the mistletoe that’s hanging over the fireplace.” Alice looks you straight in the face when she says it.

Dave nearly spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken. Coughing into his napkin as silence takes over the entire room. Molly halts her pancake devouring to stare at you with a shocked expression.

“Oh! Umm, well—“ You fumble over your words. Sheer panic runs through your body as you try to come up with something quickly as to why Alice would have seen you kissing “Santa”.

“Hey, girls look at what time it is. Your mom is going to be here in 20 minutes to pick you up. How about you go on upstairs to get your stuff together. Brush those sticky teeth and get dressed so you’re ready to go when she gets here.” The girls cheer in unison as they both hop off their chairs and run in the direction of the stairs that lead to their rooms. The bombshell revelation is long forgotten now.

“Oh my god!” You let out a big sigh and slump down in your chair, your head turning to see Dave silently laughing to himself. “She’s going to ask me again why I was kissing him— but I think you bought me enough time until they’re back from Carol’s.”

Dave reaches over and grabs your hand, pulling you from your chair and into his lap. Your arms drape around his shoulders, your temple resting against his forehead. His hand smooths over your pajama clad thighs, the other resting at your hip where he gives you a few gentle squeezes.

“Thank you for doing that for her. She might not believe in him next year, but she’ll have this Christmas as a fun memory to tell her kids when they’re asking whether or not Santa is real.”

“Thankfully all she saw was the kissing— or she would have been scarred for life.” Dave says between the soft kisses he’s giving to your neck.

“You’re the worst!” Playfully hitting his shoulder.

“That’s not what you were saying when Santa was showering you with all those gifts last night.” His eyebrows waggle as he looks at you, rolling your eyes back at him. Your face heats up at remembering just how many gifts you were given.

“How about when the girls leave, you slip back into that red suit— forget the beard. And you can give me some more of those wonderful gifts.” You whisper, as if your suggestion might be heard by two sets of small ears. “I might be in the giving mood and have a few for you as well.”

“I don’t know. Have you been a good girl this year?” Dave asks in a low sensuous tone.

“The best!” You manage to say before his hand is pulling your face to his, kissing you with earnestness.

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs cuts the kiss short. Alice and Molly making their way back into the living room to pick up where they left off with their new toys.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” Dave places the softest kiss to your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Dave.”

#604to647 #sweet friends saying sweet things

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ienjoywritingfilth · 1 month ago

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a sinner i am part vii

wanna see my other stuff?

part vii: breaking your promise

"I swear to you I won't stop until your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name." — Horace Cope

You glance at the bathroom door, knowing that Joel is across that room. You're still sore from yesterday and on your shoulder blade is a scratch from the rock walls of the cave. You had to lie to Shawn and tell him it was from sharp coral during snorkelling.

You look at his naked back as he breathes softly. The sun shines outside the window promising another perfect Hawaiian day, one final day in paradise. Shawn's phone goes off with an alert you know too well. His bros are texting him about some online game they're all playing. Hours of Shawn's free time are spent on video games with his friends. He stretches awake, reaching clumsily for his phone before turning to face you.

"Good morning," he says in a scratchy morning voice. He scans his phone before typing something back. When he’s done he drops his phone onto the bed before shuffling towards you, planting his mouth at your jaw.

"You look good this morning," he says against your neck, kissing there. You hold back a frown as his morning breath reaches you. His hips start to move against yours and you feel his cock already half hard when he reaches for your breasts.

"Not right now," you say moving out of his touch. "I don't really feel up to it."

"But I'm so hard babe," Shawn says pawing your breast through your flimsy negligee. "And we leave tomorrow. I wanna get in all the vacation sex we can."

He says all of this with a playful look in his eyes but the tension is there, his hand still kneading your breast through your shirt. You made a promise to Joel and it's one you intend to keep.

This is my cunt to fuck. My mouth to cum in.

You look back at Shawn with a pout and your hands resting over your belly.

"I think I ate something bad," you say with a frown. "Sorry babe."

"Oh shit really?" Shawn pulls back with a grimace before shrugging. Then he turns on a smile. "Whatever. Let's go for a hike. Just the two of us."

Joel wakes up with Tess in his arms snoring soundly. He blinks the sleep away and stares at her face taking in the lines around her eyes and the freckles along her cheeks. Even in sleep she's a beautiful woman. She herself was forbidden fruit at one time, a woman Tommy told him to stay away from one rainy afternoon when he saw the way Joel watched Tess' tight ass move in her pants as she left the office.

"Christ Joel keep it in your pants. She's good at what she does and I don't wanna lose her because you need to get your dick wet."

Joel sighs heavily and thinks about his relationship. He feels like things have gotten stagnant or is it that with you things are so much more exciting? He can't decide and he doesn't want to give up either.

He glances at the bathroom door knowing that you lay beyond it. He can picture you there in the bed he had you on. You crying out for him as he went down on you, making you cum so hard you gushed over his tongue.

He still can't believe yesterday and the cave. You were feral and yet so sweet wrapped around his cock. He had a hard time recalling the details of it all because you'd both been so frantic. The ride home was silent and you avoided each other the rest of the night. It's quiet from your room and he wonders if you're still sleeping. If his son wasn't home he'd crawl into bed with you and play with your pussy until you woke up dripping for him. A glance at Joel's phone tells him he missed a text. It's from Shawn from a few hours ago.

Going up to Mauna Kea. Be back by ten.

Joel sees that it's almost ten. It's the last day of vacation and he wants to do something memorable. Maybe a luau? It's cliché but seems fun and something you’d enjoy. He scrolls his phone until he finds one for this evening and books it for the four of you. He wonders what you'll wear.

Tess stirs next to him and Joel feels his cock swelling. It's not like you're here and he really needs to let out some tension before you get back. Because you were serious when you said you didn't want to keep doing this to Shawn and Joel knows he should feel more shame than he does.

I just need to fuck it out of my system. If I'm drained I won't be so pent up.

He twists to face Tess, pressing on her hip in response hand thighs part with sleepy lack of coordination. He moves his fingers over her cunt and she lifts her hips to chase the feeling. She coos his name softly as she wakes up all fluttering lashes and soft sighing. Joel shoves down his boxers before tugging at her panties. She lifts her hips so that he can remove them easier.

"I need to make you cum, honey," Joel says as he props his cock at her entrance. "You gonna let me?"

Tess just nods with a sleepy smile and widens her thighs. He gives her a gentle kiss before feeding his cock into her. He fucks her soft and slow, stretching her around him listening to her coming apart beneath him. He's only listening because his eyes are closed and it's not her cunt he feels but yours. This is you he's fucking at his leisure in his bed. Your whimpers and whines as he splits you open with his cock.

"Biggest you've ever had," he murmurs, hips snapping faster and faster. "Barely fits."

You exist there behind his eyelids, eyes rolled back, tongue out, brows crossed as you beg for more.

More daddy please.... I need it.. I need it

"You need it?" Joel grunts, fucking Tess so hard the bed is creaking. "Tell me how much."

"So much," a voice replies, not yours but Tess'. "So much Joel, please!"

He's already over the edge at the memory of your tits bouncing and he's about to cum when the sound of the door being thrust open is heard and Shawn's shout startles him.

"Dad! Tess!"

The two of them stop immediately, eyes wide. They exchange sheepish glances as Joel pulls out of Tess. They throw on clothes and stumble out, concerned. Shawn is standing there with you at his side. Shawn is flushed and beaming, holding you around the waist. As soon as Joel and Tess draw over he takes your left hand and holds it proudly out to them.

"We're engaged!"

He did it on top of Mauna Kea during the hike. You were sweaty and surprised and when he got down on one knee and pulled out the ring he'd been keeping secret for the week you could only feel a panic swirl in your belly.

"I wanted Tess' help planning a proposal," Shawn says now as the four of you sit around the breakfast table talking about it. "She's the one that found the hike her first day here."

"I'm glad I could be a part of it."

You make yourself smile at Tess and pick at your fruit bowl. You're pretty sure she and Joel were fucking when you came home this morning and the thought infuriates you.

“So Tess knew about it,” Joel says, hurt that his son didn’t share this with him. Shawn gives his dad a sad look.

“I’m sorry pops, I just know how bad you are at keeping secrets.”

You choke on your water pretending that it went down the wrong tube. Joel hunches over his meal just nodding. You're sitting next across from him and he's trying so hard not to focus on the shirt that clings to you. It reminds him of the day he'd been so eager to ride with in the ATV. The day Joel came just thinking about fucking you. And now he's had you and he still craves so much more. But he needs to focus on this monumental event for his son. His only child, the man who will one day take over the company. There's a mixture of pride and revulsion in him.

"Congratulations you two. Let's celebrate."

He orders mimosas for the table, speaking gently about how proud he is of Shawn and happy for the future. How can he say all these things when he was balls deep in you yesterday? He's trying to catch your eye but you refuse to look at him.

"I thought we could do a luau tonight to celebrate your engagement," Joel says, irritated when you still won't look his way.

"Thanks Dad."

"That sounds so nice Joel" Tess says squeezing his forearm.

You throw back the rest of your mimosa with a scowl. Your mouth tastes sour and you frown watching Tess touch Joel. You shouldn't feel possessive as you sit here wearing another man's ring but you do. But this is all for the best because now you have to stop whatever all this is with Joel.

"Thanks Dad," Shawn says as he slings his arm around you. "Me and the future Mrs Miller appreciate it."

Joel watches you tense up before excusing yourself saying you have to use the washroom. Joel watches your perky ass swish away from the table and he bites back a groan. Shawn waits until you're out of earshot before looking back over at Joel and Tess.

"I'm surprising her with a couple's massage in the room. Do you mind giving us the place for a couple hours?"

"Of course," Tess says before Joel can talk. He feels frantic about everything and worried for some reason he cannot explain.

"But it's our last day together, son. I thought we'd spend it hanging all four of us."

"Oh leave them alone," Tess says with a playful slap. "They're newly engaged! They want some time to themselves. They don't wanna hang around us old folks."

You arrive back at the table just after Tess confirms she and Joel will hang out by the pool for a couple hours.

"I just think it's presumptuous kicking me outta the fucking place I paid for," Joel grumbles a while later at the pool.

"You only get engaged once, Texas," Tess tells him over her magazine. "Besides the cabana is private. Maybe we can finish what we started this morning?"

Joel is too distracted to enjoy the thought of fucking Tess in the quasi private cabana. Normally the thrill would be enough to get him hard but right now he's fixated on what's happening with you two in the room.

"I forgot something in the room," Joel says standing and looking down at her soaking up the sun. "I'll be right back."

Joel jogs the entire way back to the private suite with his dark eyes stuck on the door. Joel enters into the space to see you and Shawn tangled up on the couch, pulling away quickly when you hear his footsteps.

"Dad," Shawn says in irritation, tugging up his jeans that were halfway down.

Joel takes this in, clenching his jaw. "I thought you two were gettin a massage."

"We are," Shawn says harshly "they'll be here in twenty."

Joel can see the way you're both panting. Your hair is mussed and your lips are swollen from kissing.

"Well I'm sorry I just forgot my wallet," Joel mutters. "I'll grab it and get outta your hair lickity split." He grimaces and walks into his bedroom. He locates the wallet quickly but pauses, overhearing you and Shawn on the couch.

"He'll be gone in a sec."

"I feel like the mood is killed."

"It's not."

Joel winces at the whiny edge to his son's voice.

"I can get you moaning again real quick." Joel hears the sofa dip. "We can finish what we started if you wanna be my good girl."

"Shawn he's in the next room."

"I'm just kissing you, babe," Shawn says and Joel can hear the wet sounds. "Don't you wanna be my good girl?'"

Joel hears your pause and then. "Yes."

"Then let's finish this in the bedroom when he leaves."

Joel sees red. He was very clear in his instructions very sincere in his request. And now you're gonna take Shawn's cock the second he leaves. And the worst part is he can’t stop it.

"Got it," Joel says bursting into the room holding up his wallet. You sit apart from Shawn on the couch looking guilty. Joel's eyes scan your rumpled dress.

“Bye dad,” Shawn says with an arm throwing itself around your waist to drag you into his lap.

Joel watches a moment longer before he walks out the door and closes it, his chest tightening in anger. He stops outside the front door and he should leave but he doesn't. Instead he walks the perimeter of the villa until he finds the open window of your bedroom. He crouches down under the window, listening to hear you and Shawn speaking. You sound exhausted.

"Shawn I'm tired."

"It's our last day in Hawaii and we're engaged," Shawn insists. "All you have to do is lay back."

Joel can hear the sigh you heave before the creak of the mattress indicates you've gotten into bed.

"That's right babe," Shawn groans. "Show me that pretty pussy."

Joel's hand is clenched so hard it's burning. He closes his eyes when a rhythmic slapping noise begins.

"You take me well," Shawn gasps out. "Such a good girl."

You whine his name over and over until Joel can't hear anymore. He's so furious he thinks he might put his fist through the window. Instead he makes himself walk back to the pool where Tess waits for him.

You stand in front of the mirror later that night, smoothing your tropical patterned dress and frowning. You look good but you feel terrible. Fucking Shawn this afternoon felt weird, being engaged feels weird, wanting Joel feels weird. Everything just feels weird.

When the four of you get into the luau and take to your table you end up seated beside Joel. His eyes are scanning your body, itching to touch you. He allows his legs to widen under the table, irritated when you pull your legs tighter together to avoid touching. You're engaged now, you tell yourself as you shrink away from him.

The group's watch the entertainment, eating from the delicious buffet and cheering at the hula dancers. The drinks are bottomless and after a few you need to use the restroom. You excuse yourself, still ignoring Joel's hard gaze. When inside you splash cold water on your face cooling down your cheeks. You stare at yourself in the mirror and frown.

"Are you okay?"

You look over to see an older woman staring at you with concern, washing her hands.

"I just got engaged today." You give her a weak smile.

The woman pats her red hair with a palm and gives you an eye up and down. "Sweetheart if that's your reaction to getting engaged, I think maybe it's time to dump the guy. Just my two cents."

"I'm just overwhelmed," you say quickly feeling guilty. "He's wonderful."

The woman touches you on the shoulder. "Trust me. This isn't how you should feel the day you get engaged."

She walks out of the door and you go back to staring at yourself in the mirror. You don't look like a happy fiancée. You look terrified! But you don't know how much of that is the engagement and how much is guilt over fucking Shawn's dad. You open the door to head back and look in surprise at the tall figure who stands there, blocking your exit.

"Joel?"

"We need to talk," Joel mutters before pushing you back into the restroom by the shoulder. He scans to see it empty before locking the door. Then he advances on you, taking wide strides until your back is up against the sink basin on the counter. His hips are against yours pinning you there.

"He make you cum this morning?"

You blink up at him in surprise before you shake your head. He lets out a groan that morphs into a growl.

"Fucking shameful," he tells you, his large hands coming to slide up your waist, palms cupping your breasts through your dress. "I'd have you cumming on my tongue every hour of the day."

You take his hands and you gently move them from your body. "Joel stop. We can't do this anymore."

"I know," Joel says even though he's half hard just looking at you.

You don't say anything; you just look at the floor with red cheeks.

"I heard you with him earlier." Joel feels his face grow warm when you frown. "I told you not to fuck him," Joel growls as he lowers his face to yours. "Told you this cunt and this mouth were mine."

You glare up at him in frustration, eyes narrowing in anger. You didn't want to fuck Shawn! He hovers over you like a beautifully terrifying statue. Your pussy throbs just inhaling the cologne he dabbed on before you all left. He's so hot right now in his vacation shirt and wavy locks. But he's your fiance's dad and if he's not strong enough to stop this madness you'll have to be.

"He's my fiancé, Joel. What was I supposed to do?"

"Supposed to listen to me."

You cross your arms in front of you and give him a stare that makes his stomach drop. "Why would I do that? We're not together."

Joel rears back slightly at this before his eyes turn into malevolent slits. "I guess fair is fair. I was balls deep in Tess when you came in with your announcement."

You raise your head defiantly staring him down.

"Bet you were thinking about me the whole time."

The silence in the bathroom is deafening for a moment. Joel just stares at you while you blush further. You can't believe you actually said that to him. He leans in and puts both hands on the counter behind you, keeping you trapped between his muscular arms.

"I heard him calling you his good girl. But you're not a good girl are you? Not when you take my cock one day and his the next," Joel spits. "What do you think that makes you?"

Your face goes red with embarrassment and your whole body goes up in flames at the judgment in his deep voice.

"I think it makes you a whore," Joel hisses. "A filthy little slut."

You bring up your hand and slap him without thought at those ugly words and the crack of skin on skin echoes in the empty restroom. You breathe heavily, glaring at him as his head snaps to the side. You don't notice that he immediately grows hard but you do see his nostrils flare as he looks back at you. Your eyes go wide like a frightened animal when you see his dark eyes grow darker.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

Joel grunts sharply before he backs you against the counter again and reaches under your dress. He cups you there, feeling you're wet already through he fabric of your thong. He stares down at you and sees the flush along your cheeks. Your big eyes blink up at him, pupils like saucers. He spins you around to face the mirror as you try to wrest away from him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You whisper urgently as his belt buckle and zipper undo behind you. There's the crinkle of a condom wrapper and then his mouth at your ear.

"I'm teaching you a lesson."

He doesn't wait for you to reply he just tugs your thong to the side and plunges his cock into you. You let out a yip of surprise but Joel quickly covers your mouth with one huge hand.

"They're right out there," Joel whispers against your earlobe, his mouth pressed to the gold earring you wear. "You gotta be a good girl and keep quiet. Don't want Shawn to know you're in here taking his daddy's cock do you?"

He pushes your dress up, exposing your bare ass and cunt. He groans as he withdraws slowly to see the shiny slick of you coating him before thrusting all the way to the base over and over again. His eyes go to the mirror above the sink to see your eyes are already rolling back, back arching for him.

"Look how much you love being full of my cock."

Your eyebrows knit as he hits that sweet spot inside, too aroused to even open your eyes to watch him sink into you from behind.You clutch at the counter not caring if you're seen or heard. All you can do is chase this blissful feeling. But Joel keeps one hand over your mouth, sealing in your moans.

"Shouldn't be doing this, should we sweet thing?" Joel croons as he pounds into you, making your fingers curl around the sink basin. "Shouldn't be fucking this tight little cunt when they wait at the table." He watches your ass bounce against his hips, the recoil making him moan against his sealed lips. "You gonna stop me?"

You can't answer other than to whine against his palm. He holds you by the throat, forcing your face to tilt up so you can see your expression. You're completely blissed out with pink cheeks and your mascara smeared. You look ruined and behind you is the strong form of Joel, dwarfing you as he fucks into you.

"Naw you're not gonna stop me," he grins wolfishly. "You want it just as much as I do."

Now he uncovers your mouth as your hips roll along with his. You look at yourself in the mirror again, watching as Joel fucks you like an animal from behind his fingers sliding over your hip and between your thighs. You gasp, looking behind to watch him fuck into you, watching the recoil of your plump ass as he stares.

"We can't keep doing this,” you croak, “we can't."

Joel sees how you're fighting so hard not to want him but your body keeps backing up to fuck yourself on his slick pole as he tickles your clit.

"Our little secret just a little while longer," he tells your reflection quietly. He grunts and groans quietly as he fucks your tight hole, his hands bruising your hips as he holds you in place.

"He make you feel this good?" Joel whispers, eyes stuck on your open mouth as you hold back a cry. “He make your cunt drool like I do?”

"No," you say in tiny gasps at the filth he’s spewing. "No. Never."

Joel feels his cock being strangled by your cunt and now he begins to pound into you, watching the reflection the entire time. His face is red and his teeth are bared. You look like you’re on another planet, whining quietly as you take him.

"He make you cum most of the time?"

He knows the answer but he still sneers when you shake your head. He lets out a groan that morphs into a growl.

"Fucking shameful," he tells your reflection. "I'd have you cumming on my tongue every hour of the day."

He holds onto your left shoulder, helping his momentum as he thrusts in and out. You moan his name quietly, imagining being in his bed, thighs spread as he devours your cunt. He moves his thumb into your mouth. "Suck." His eyes fix on the mirror as he fucks one hole with his cock and fills the other with his wide thumb. Your cheeks hollow as you suck his thumb.

"Just my little fuck toy aren't ya," he grins at your reflection. You moan around his finger, nodding and cock-drunk. He takes his hand from your clit but you don't complain, you just keep sucking.

You'll do whatever he asks of you if he fucks you well enough and the both of you know it. He feels you start to clench around the head of his cock and he slowly stops. Your eyes snap open and meet his in the mirror as you pant, whining his name. He looks totally wrecked with a flushed face and mussed hair.

"You don't get to cum," he says against your temple as he begins to thrust shallowly again. "Only daddy cums tonight. And only I cum in this cunt from now on, you understand?"

"Yes," you say panting heavily as he saws in and out of you. "Yes, I understand."

"Repeat it."

"Only you fuck this pussy," you say in a slur with your entire body jigging as Joel holds you by the hips and doesn't hold back.

"Say it like you mean it," he grunts as he feels his balls contract. "Look at that little slut in the mirror and tell her."

You hear how wet you are with each slap of his thighs against the meat of your ass before Joel presses your spine, causing your ass to rise for him as your chest hits the cool counter. He slips between your folds faster and faster as you jerk against him. For a moment you forget what he asked you to do until he prompts you with a low growl.

"I said, what are you?"

"A little slut," you whimper. Joel feels a shudder go through his spine at your easy submission. You watch him curve his face over your shoulder to speak against your cheek.

"And what does Daddy's slut need to remember?"

You look at the reflection staring back at you, one breast spilling out of your dress, the skirt hiked up, your ass bouncing each time Joel thrusts up into your waiting cunt. His wide hand goes to cup your exposed breast as he watches your back arch. He rolls the nipple between his fingers.

"Only daddy cums in this cunt from now on," you tell your desperate reflection.

"And who owns this pussy I’m fucking?" Joel asks you,

"You do," you gasp as his movements grows staggered and forceful. "Daddy owns my cunt."

Joel cums hard, so hard he's convinced the condom can't hold it all. He groans fuck fuck fuck against your cheek with his eyes closed.

"Such a tight fucking pussy for Daddy to cum in. Such a good girl for taking me like that," he says before he places a kiss to your cheekbone. He looks at your red face and the heavy lidded way you stare at him. He kisses the damp hair at your temples. You smile and he returns it.

"I'll see you back at the table."

what did you thin of this chapter? next up mile high club anyone????? or do you have scenarios you rlly wanna see with them?plsssssss write some good long comments for me or i won't be motivated okayyy i luv uuuuuuuuuuuuuu

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #smut #joel miller #joel x reader #au joel miller #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller is a daddy #daddy's good girl #daddy’s babygirl #daddy’s wh0re #daddy k!nk

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milla-frenchy · 6 months ago

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Hello my dear!! Happy Sunday! Hope you’ve had a wonderful weekend and a very happy Pedro hours 😘

I’m popping in with a silly Never Have I Ever ask 😊 Never have I ever… gone to a Haunted House (real or fun!) As you may already know, I am a scaredy cat 🤭

Happy sunday bb ❤️ It was a perfect weekend, I hope yours was too ❤️

I have 😁 the haunted mansion at Disney and some horror escape rooms. I love the vibes 👻🎃🧟

(yeah, I heard that 😽)

Thank you for asking 😘

#asks #604to647

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nobedofroses · 2 months ago

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Yes he’s the bessssst always thinking about reader and the baby 🥰

October 14th

pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader

warnings: reader has given birth in the last few months, mentions of nursing

words: 743

a/n: Hmm I don't know that I can count the word "cottage" as a prompt from @illfoandillfie since I had to come up with everything else (lmao ily). Little bit of missing Pero, little bit of reuniting

Directory, Day 13

🎃🎃🎃

A year after your last autumnal visit to the market, Pero was there selling another horse and you were not. You had wanted to go and he had so wanted you to go, but your tiny baby girl, Alma, was too little to travel yet. With tears in your eyes and an oblivious three month old in your arms, you bid Pero goodbye with a sweet, loving kiss that you kind of hoped would be enough to keep him there. It sadly didn’t work, but he did look back several times as he rode away.

Pero was only going to be gone one night since he wasn’t going to be spending extra time with you in the market and had even offered to make the trip in one day, but you didn’t want him traveling that late or for that long.

It was surprising all the ways you missed him for just one day. The way he always got up earlier than you so he could build up the fire and bring your housecoat from where you left it by the washbasin like you always did. How he would scoop up Alma after she was done nursing to burp and take care of her so you could rest and relax. The way he spoke to her as he patted her back, telling her about what the plan was for the day with the horses and asking what she was planning to do with her day.

Thinking about all of this when you fed Alma after he left made you a little misty-eyed as you took care of her by yourself, more out of absolute love for Pero than being sad that he was gone for a day, but it was pretty close.

You ate your meals with William and Charlotte in the inn so you could have some adult company and because it was strange to cook for one. Plus they loved every second they had with their niece.

That night, when you were getting ready for bed, you had to build up the fire a little extra. The nights were getting colder and colder and you wouldn’t have Pero to keep you warm.

In the morning, you went through your normal routine, pointedly trying not to think about the differences you had anticipated yesterday, and instead focused on the fact that Pero would be back in a couple hours. And with him would be goods for not only your home, but some medicines and things for whoever wanted to buy or trade for them in the village. You also knew there would probably be a book or two and something for Alma, which was exciting.

At lunch, Charlotte half-jokingly offered to take Alma until dinner so the two of you could have a proper reunion. You laughed but said that Pero would want to see Alma as soon as he got home. And he’d have to unpack. And take care of his horse, Fred. Then she suggested taking her after dinner until you came and got her for her last feeding and bed and you readily agreed.

Pero came back within an hour after lunch. Alma was napping in her bassinet, so you rushed outside to be able to embrace him as soon as he got off his horse. Possibly you had been watching out the window for him.

His strong arms were around you in an instant. You buried your face where his neck met his shoulder and said, “Pero, oh darling, I missed you so much.”

“A mi también, querida. So much.”

You loved being enveloped in him like this, but you knew Fred should be unburdened and you shouldn’t leave Alma alone for much longer.

“Alma’s napping, but I’ll bring her out to you if she wakes up before you’re done,” you told Pero, knowing he’d want to see her as soon as possible.

“Yes, perfect. I’ll be in as soon as I can,” Pero said before bringing you in for a deep kiss that you weren’t expecting.

When he released you, you stood there for a second, dazed, until Pero grabbed your shoulders and bodily turned you back to the cottage. You walked back, a little wobbly, and when you got to the door and turned back to look at Pero, he was watching you with a grin.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat but wondered if maybe you should’ve taken Charlotte up on her first offer.

🎃🎃🎃

#thanks for sharing your thoughts!!#comment reblog #604to647

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 29 days ago

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Happy Thanksgiving/November 28!

Ignoring the Thanksgiving "America Rules" whitewashing when we committed atrocities against the true Americans. I will take a moment to be thankful for what I have today. I am very thankful this year for all of the friends I've made and all of the stories I've gotten to share with y'all. Not to be too dramatic or get too real but this year hasn't been the easiest for me and having this little website and community sure has put salve on some of the sadness. Let's go forth and keep supporting each other and making a community that we can all be thankful for.

I invited some guys over for dinner. Who are you having for dessert?

Forever the most grateful for @ohheypedrito and our friendship.

Tagging some people invited to the party whose invitations never made it to them. Next time I won't have Dieter in charge of mail. (If I forgot you, I am sorry... the parade is distracting me.)

@magpiepills, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon, @devineconjuring, @beefrobeefcal

@sawymredfox, @bitchesuntitled, @goodwithcheese, @secretelephanttattoo, @jolapeno

@maggiemayhemnj, @yourcoolauntie, @yopossum, @ace-turned-confused, @jennaispunk

@artsy-girl-76, @justagalwhowrites, @sixhours, @timelordfreya, @hellfire-state-of-mind

@tinytinymenace, @perotovar, @mando-abs, @littlemisspascal, @luxurychristmaspudding

@guiltyasdave, @yxtkiwiyxt, @morallyinept, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @rulexofxnines

@grogusmum, @jessthebaker, @javierpena-inatacvest, @covetyou, @theetherealbloom

@quinnnfabrgay, @joelalorian, @almostfoxglove, @almostempty, @604to647

@thundermartini, @evolnoomym, @the-mandawhor1an, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @for-a-longlongtime

@baronessvonglitter, @80ssong, @lokischocolatefountain, @pedropeach, @tonysopranosrobe

@moonlitbirdie, @wannab-urs, @daddydindjarin, @sunshinehaze1, @sizzlingcloudmentality

@mountainsandmayhem, @murder-wife, @shchristine, @jksprincess10, @qveerthe0ry

@plasticpascal, @chippedowlmug, @reddedmiller, @pedgito, @undutchable11

@sp00kymulderr, @yorksgirl, @clawdee, @strang3lov3, @survivingandenduring

@lorettafudge, @burntheedges, @msjarvis, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29, @skbeaumont

@tightjeansjavi, @mrsmando, @penvisions, @scp116, @polaroidpascal

@harriedandharassed, @romanarose, @arcanefox207, @pedrospatch

#joel miller #pedro pascal #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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baronessvonglitter · 27 days ago

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It's that time of year! I have compiled a little list of the fics I've read since September that have altered my brain chemistry and would recommend to anyone looking for a good laugh, a spicy read, or a titillating tale. (I have marked some of these as 'series' even though they may just have multiple parts. I am very lazy and will not apologize for it.)

Please take the time to check these out, give the authors some love, and read more of their work. 🤎

Close Encounters of the Corn Kind ~ Dieter Bravo x Female Reader ~ by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Cosmic Kiss ~ Alien!Joel x F!reader ~ by @clawdeewritesfanfic

decisions ~ Dave York x fem!reader ~ by @laligraves

devil's advocate ~ Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @joelsdagger

Down Bad ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @schnarfer

Fires at Midnight ~ Lucien Flores x f!Reader ~ by @inept-the-magnificent

Good Luck, Babe ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @schnarfer

Heaven is Hell ~ Demon!Dieter Bravo, Angel!Marcus Pike x OFC Emma ~ by @inept-the-magnificent

Hot Date ~ stepdaddy!Roman Roy x f!reader ~ by @strang3lov3

Keep Quiet ~ Tim Rockford x f!reader ~ by @auteurdelabre

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit ~ Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader ~ by @bitchesuntitled

lights, camera, action ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @noceurous

Make it Stick ~ Old!Joel x Reader ~ by @gutsby

My Kink is Karma ~ Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @alltheirdamn

Never made it as a wise man ~ joel miller x f!reader ~ by @almostempty

The Night of the Concert Pt. 2 ~ dbf!Joel x fem!reader ~ by @ienjoywritingfilth

October 31 ~ Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller ~ by @milla-frenchy

On the Nature of Daylight ~ Din Djarin x f!Reader ~ by @lady-bess

Our Little Secret ~ dbf!Joel Miller/Reader ~ by @pearlessance

Physics in Practice ~ stepfather!Reed Richards x student!f!Reader ~ by @sanarsi

Practice Makes Perfect ~ Ted Garcia x f!Reader/You (no y/n) ~ by @notjustjavierpena

Private Eyes ~ Jack Daniels x private investigator!f!reader ~ by @syd-djarin

proud to be yours ~ Marcus Acacius x f!reader ~ by @ace-turned-confused

Repenting ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @sizzlingcloudmentality

The Ring ~ Dave York x f!babysitter (university age) ~ by @ienjoywritingfilth

Roommates (series) ~ pornstar!Joel x f!reader ~ by @punkshort

Saving What Was Lost (series) ~ pre oubreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader ~ by @mermaidgirl30

Savor ~ Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader ~ by @sunshinehaze1

Sex Pollen Din Djarin one-shot ~ Din Djarin x f!Reader ~ by @auteurdelabre

So Say Goodbye ~ Marcus Pike x f!reader ~ by @sunshinehaze1

A Step Into Hell ~ Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @aurorawritestoescape

Strike (series) ~ No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @secretelephanttattoo

Sweat ~ Frankie Morales x fem! able bodied reader ~ by @sawymredfox

Three's a Crowd ~ Tommy Miller x f!reader x Joel Miller ~ by @pearlessance

Too Good to be True ~ Frankie Morales x f!reader ~ by @almostempty

Trick or Treat? ~ Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York F!Reader ~ by @morallyinept

Waiting Game (series) ~ dbf!Joel x Reader ~ by @gutsby

The Way to a Great Wide Somewhere ~ beast!Din Djarin x f!reader ~ by @myownwholewildworld

what the hell is wrong with Tim? ~ Tim Rockford x f!cop reader ~ by @beefrobeefcal

What Was I Made For? ~ Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford x fem!reader ~ by @604to647

You look like a fun place to sit ~ Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader ~ by @itwasntimethatdidit40

2 Sweet 4 Me (series) ~ Dieter Bravo x AFAB reader ~ by @eff4freddie

6 PM ~ Joel Miller x fem reader ~ by @milla-frenchy

dividers by @kodaswrld 👑

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milla-frenchy · 6 months ago

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Oh!! I think I'm already in love with your Frankie 😍😍😍

You know you’re being terribly teasing and unfair, but here in this dimly lit room, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, you’ve never felt safer. Or sexier. And it’s all because of this man. Francisco.

Actually, I AM already in love with him 🫠🫠🫠

Never one to break the private room’s cardinal rule, or even cop a feel while out on the main floor, this man is nothing but respectful. And that makes you wish even more that he would just break – break all the rules and have his way with you. Touch you. Grab you. Manhandle you to his liking and take you right on the faux velvet couch that lines the wall behind him. With a low and wide swivel of your hips, you ghost over the growing bulge of his jeans and you hear him groan - a deep guttural sound from the back of his throat, and this time you don’t fight the smile that spreads across your face. Francisco.

Oh my god, I can't believe you're already trying to kill me!!!

As you approach the odd man out to serve him his drink, he gives you an almost bashful shake of his head, as if to say ‘You don’t have to’ – you’re not sure what it is, maybe it was his almost boyishly shy smile, or the glimpse of those soft brown curls you caught when he lifted his cap to nervously run his hands through his hair, but on a whim, you decide to stay.

Yes guuuuuurl

And just when you think that’s all you’ll ever have of Francisco’s touch, you feel it: a soft, tender kiss to your lower back. It’s so sweet you have to choke back a sob.

(I'm so glad to know there's a part 2 🤗🥹)

You can only imagine the look of brief recognition quickly giving way to shock that the tall, good-looking man gives you, mirrors your own. How was this possible? Francisco.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!!!

Strawberry Shortcake (part 1 of 2)

4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You thought working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club would just be a way to make some easy money - you didn't expect to meet him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Private room shenanigans, longing, ref to f!masturbation, nicknames as always, reader is a single parent (mentioned briefly in the this part), TF boys make a quick appearance!

A/N: In this part, reader only knows Frankie as "Francisco", but for the purpose of the narrative, I refer to him as Frankie most of the time. This came out of nowhere and I wrote it in one day instead of editing the next chapter of SwY 🫣 procrastination fics are a thing, right? Barely proofread, please excuse all my mistakes!

Series Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰 The moodboard Frankie pic is from Pinterest but after a wee bit of sleuthing, I believe it’s a screen grab from this gifset by @uuuhshiny - please correct me if I’m wrong!! 😊

Swaying seductively to the club’s upbeat remix of an old school RnB song you’ve always loved, you hit each bass beat with a little pop of your hip so that you lightly knock your knees into the widespread thighs of the man whose legs you’re dancing in between. The combined movement lends a little bounce to your naked tits, and as you raise your arms above your head and continue to move to the music, you have to bite your lower lip to prevent from smiling and chuckling. Even with your eyes closed, you know the man’s large, calloused hands, ever respectful of the private room’s ‘No Touching’ rule, are spread, straining with superhuman restraint and digging into those same meaty thighs that you keep rubbing against. You might be doing it on purpose. Afterall, the rule is that he can’t touch, but you can.

Trailing your fingers down through your hair, then down, down along your face and neck until you reach your chest, your hands grab and grope your breasts the way you know the man before you wishes he could. Letting yourself pretend that your desperate touches are his, you let out a little whimper that’s meant to try his resolve. As you bend your knees while rolling your hips, the lascivious show you’re putting on is lowered to his eye level, and you continue to palm your tits, rolling and pinching your nipples between your fingers – pretty peaks hardening as the fan of his heavier than usual breath hits them just right. You know you’re being terribly teasing and unfair, but here in this dimly lit room, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, you’ve never felt safer. Or sexier. And it’s all because of this man.

Francisco.

He’s probably been your favourite part of working as a club cocktail waitress these past few months. You have a job as a research assistant that you love, but earlier this Spring, a small accident in the lab led to a temporary closure that had you looking for short-term work – you needed something where the hiring process wasn’t drawn out and that you could quit when the lab reopened without any negative consequences to your career - the waitress opening at The Midnight Palace had fit the bill. The money was good and the work wasn’t arduous; it wasn’t as if you were one of the onstage dancers who had to perform some of the most incredible feats of acrobatics you’ve ever seen. Even the later hours turned out to be a blessing, allowing you to spend your now free days with your son, a welcomed opportunity to fill his carefree summer days with activities and play before he started kindergarten in the Fall. The girls, dancers and waitresses alike were incredibly friendly and welcoming, many of them single moms themselves. All in all, you think you might even miss the club when the newly renovated lab reopened. And still, even with all your unexpected fondness for this job, the thing you unequivocally look forward to most when coming in to work is Francisco Morales.

Every two weeks without fail he came in with a group of army buddies on Friday night. The first time you encountered them had been your second week at the club, amused at how the other girls had been excited for their arrival; the group was known for being fun loving and rowdy, but never disruptive or disrespectful. And generous - very generous. As a waitress, your dress code was lingerie of your choice - not any more or less skimpy than what the dancers wore on stage or when they came to the floor for lap dances, but it could invite the occasional butt slap or waist grab from some of the bolder club patrons. But never Francisco’s group – you served them drink after drink after drink, and they were only ever sweet and charming, nothing more than a polite touch as thanks, and generous with their words of praise and tips to every one of their servers and dancers. You come to learn that they usually end their evenings with a round or two in the private rooms, sometimes one-on-one, other times as a group. On that first night, you served the drinks in a private room that the group commandeered with three gorgeous dancers - all giggling and having the time of their lives. As you put down their drinks, the dark-haired man that you come to think of as the group’s leader, smiled at you with his piercing hooded eyes and laughing, “Hey hunny, why don’t you stay? We’ll pay for your time and you can keep Fish company.” He tilted his head back to indicate to his friend who sat a bit further back from the group in a chair, leaning back comfortably, arms crossed, with no stripper to call his own.

You had smiled politely, not sure of your answer even though Tiffany had nodded encouragingly at you; most patrons didn’t know, but any girl could be invited to a private room – not just the dancers. It was rare for a waitress to spend time in a private room – while there was no obligation, there was some expectation to strip and most waitresses didn’t; when you took the job, you didn’t have any intention of spending any one-on-one time in the private rooms, despite the rate and the tips being quite good.

Putting his drink down, you slide into the handsome stranger’s lap, perching your scantily clad bum on his thick thigh, you blink bright-eyed and throw him a cheeky grin, “So… you’re a Fish?” The wholesome chuckle and crinkle of his captivating eyes that follow your question warm your chest more than they should and that’s how you meet Francisco Morales.

That first night, Frankie spends the remainder of the time that Santi pays for with you in his lap, arm thrown around his neck to keep from slipping off, just talking about nothing and everything. You learn that the men are old army buddies: Santiago (call sign: Pope), Will (call sign: Ironhead), Ben (no call sign, just Benny because he’s the baby of the group) and of course Francisco, call sign: Catfish. You giggled at this and Frankie thinks the sound is more than adorable. You get a chance to run your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and find them to be as soft as you thought they’d be. Ultimately, you find yourself spending an inordinate amount of time staring into his warm brown eyes as Frankie tells you about himself and his work as a helicopter pilot and mechanic. When the little melodic bell chimes to indicate that the private room times are almost up, you can’t believe how fast the time has gone - you leave Francisco with a light kiss on the cheek and thank him for giving your tired feet a rest.

Two weeks later he returns and asks for a private room slot with just you. And again, two weeks after that. And again, and again – now a regular occurrence for the past few months, every time the boys came in to the club. Your time in the private room with Francisco is comfortable, fun, flirty, and always, always safe. A man of honour, he never touches you - his hands stay by his sides, on the table or on his own body, but never yours. With time, you give yourself permission to be bold, growing more and more unrestrained with your touches.

Taking off his cap, you’ll card your hands through his hair and lightly massage Frankie’s scalp – the first time you did this, you earned a soft ‘Baby’ from his plush lips that had your face feeling hotter than hot. It fills you with something akin to pride and possessiveness that you know those same lips are pillow soft - you’ve run your fingers over them a hundred times, just as you have his cheekbones and jaw line, tracing over every firm line of his handsome face with featherlight strokes. Nothing compares to feeling of his cheeks cupped in your soft hands as you scratch his patchy scruff, except maybe the swell of your chest when this affectionate gesture secures you another nickname, hermosa.

But by far, your favourite nickname comes during your third time together. Having looped both your arms around Frankie’s neck after making him laugh with a funny observation about a TV show you both watch, he closes his eyes once his laughter subsides and murmurs, “You smell like strawberries.” Giggling, you confess that it’s the glitter gel you borrow from one of the dancers; you were still too new to the club scene to have any of your own body glitter, but you liked the smell of this one so you kept borrowing it and Sasha didn’t seem to mind.

“Smells good, baby,” Frankie declares, “That’s my favourite dessert, you know? And you’re just as sweet, Shortcake.” Shortcake. The petname had stuck and made you feel giddy every time the endearment slipped from his lips. You don’t tell him that when you have to buy body wash the following week, you choose a strawberry scented one on purpose.

Sometimes your time with Frankie feels almost like taking an unsanctioned break – some misguided concept of proper work ethic finds you volunteering to dance for him even though it’s not in your job description; to both your delight, you discover you actually enjoy it, greedily drinking in Frankie’s lustful gaze as his eyes follow every dip of your waist and sway of your hips. More recently, you’ve progressed to massaging his tense shoulders and back when he tells you about his rough days at work; as you push and pull at the corded muscles under his shirt, the deep rumbling groan that drops from his chest shoots straight between your legs and you can’t help but salivate at the idea of making him feel good in other ways.

But most of the time, you simply sit in Frankie’s lap, the two of you chatting and getting to know each other as if you were just two people that met under totally normal circumstances and found the other to be attractive. You learn that he’s kind and giving, and he makes you laugh so very easily – some nights your face hurts a little from smiling so much, content to just listen to Frankie talk while absentmindedly rubbing his large, paw of a hand with your much smaller ones.

You think about his laugh and the way his entire chest shakes with it all the time. On the nights between his visits to the club, you go home and think about his soulful eyes and the way they can flicker from a soft puppy dog look to a darkened, gripping expression of want with just a single touch from you. After the nights you spend with him, he stars in all of your bedtime fantasies and you come to his imagined touch, hard and desperate with his name curling over your lips. You wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him. If he would smile at you in the morning daylight the way he does when you kiss his cheek goodbye in the dark private room, all soft and almost disbelieving. You wonder if he ever thinks about you at all outside of your nights together at the club. You try not to let yourself get too lost in your longing for what might never be, but as the summer goes on, you start to ache for him, missing the little you have of him every day between your rendezvous.

Sadly, as much you cherish the time with Francisco in your little bubble within the safety of the club’s private room, you know it’s a fantasy that can’t last. While Frankie knows you have a separate career outside of the club, he doesn’t know that your time together is nearly up. The original timeline for the lab to be ready was end of summer, but an email you received last week indicated that the renovations were ahead of schedule and all lab and research staff could expect to return to work soon, though the exact date was yet to be fixed. You don’t say anything to him - unwilling to spoil the mood of your limited remaining time together, and moreover, unwilling to broach the topic of what this is and if it could be anything else. Anything more.

Afraid, really, of what Francisco’s answer may be.

You have a feeling that your call back to work will come any day now, and that’s how you find yourself in the position you’re in now: topless and gyrating, cunt positively dripping while you touch your breasts salaciously for Francisco’s enjoyment. Earlier tonight, when he had you sitting on his lap like that first time, the two of you drowning in the other’s eyes and longing looks, you had realized just how much you were going to miss him when you left. The thought that this might be the last time you’re able have Frankie like this - all to yourself, able to soak in his adoring gaze while drawing a deep sigh of contentment from his chest as you study the strong features of his face, makes you bold and brave. You rise and stand in between his legs, tilting his face up with your fingers so he looks at you while you reach behind and start to unclasp your bra.

“Hermosa, you don’t have t-” Frankie starts to protest, not sure where this might be coming from. He’s been perfectly happy with how the two of you have been spending your private room time together. In no way has Frankie ever wanted you to feel like he was pushing for more than you were giving him. He won’t pretend that he doesn’t dream about your soft curves and the way your gorgeous figure nearly spills from the drool worthy lingerie you always wear; his nights alone in bed are spent imagining how you might feel writhing underneath him, what sounds he could pull from you while he explores your body – he’s willing to bet you taste sweeter than the strawberry scent that always seems to linger on his skin after he visits you. But here in this room, it’s only the pleasure of your company and the opportunity to make you laugh and smile that he will ask from you.

Pressing a finger to his lips, you assure him, “Shhhhhh, Francisco. I want to. You’ve been so good to me these last few months. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you make me feel so special – it’s been a long time since anyone has made me feel this way.”

“Baby, I want to make you feel special everyday,” breathes Frankie.

You sigh, “And you’re so respectful. I appreciate it so much, baby. Please. Let me show you how much I appreciate you.” Letting your lacy black bra fall to the ground, you watch as Frankie’s pupils dilate until his eyes turn jet black with want, jaw dropping.

“Holy fuck, Shortcake,” Frankie practically growls, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.” His unblinking gaze lingering over your pert and bouncy curves, bare and presented for him – a sight he didn’t even dare allow himself to dream.

Cocking your head to the side, you can’t help but feel your heart burst at his admission, “You think about me, Francisco?”

“All the time, baby,” there’s no use playing coy with you, not when you’re so perfect and vulnerable before him. Frankie manages to tear his eyes away from your nearly nude body only to be met with what he thinks is the most beautiful sight on Earth, you smiling at him sweetly, radiating pure happiness. Did he do that? Did he make you happy? He can’t help but feel a burst of pride - he wants to do it again and again.

Almost shyly, you tease, “Would you let me dance for you?”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Frankie can only assent with a quick nod before he watches, mesmerized, as you start to sway you body to the beat of the music pouring in from outside the private room; every line and dip of your figure moves rhythmically as if to hypnotize him. Frankie doesn’t know how long you dance, but every brush of your legs against his causes his dick to twitch and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning. When you move your hands to cup those perfect breasts of yours, he stares as you fondle and play with your nipples and thinks he might actually rip holes in his jeans with how hard he’s digging his fingers into his legs. He’s painfully hard and he wants to touch you so bad. But, of course he won’t. You trust him not to cross that line, and he would never want you to feel anything but perfectly safe with him.

When you finally open your eyes, you see Frankie gazing at you - eyes glued to your face with an almost pained look of reverence, devotion etched into the handsome features of his face and it makes your heart sing. “Francisco,” you tut playfully, “I finally get half naked for you, and you’re looking at my face?”

“Prettiest view in the room, Shortcake.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr, and then as if taking off your top for him wasn’t bold enough, you close the little distance left between your bodies and kiss him. Soft and tentative at first, but when you feel Frankie’s mouth chase yours for more, the kiss quickly becomes needy, hungry. Frankie’s hands remain on his legs, so you touch him for the both of you – running your hands through his soft hair, you cradle his head in your palms and tip his face to yours, pulling him up so you can press your lips more greedily to his. Frankie’s tongue finds yours and he matches its every brush and stroke with equal fervour; as he map the inside of your mouth, the needy groans that vibrate from the back of your throat make his teeth rattle and his heart soar. You gasp for air, but don’t take in enough because you can’t bear to be parted from his perfect, plush mouth – trading air for the dizziness that comes with the way Frankie devours you. You kiss him like it’s everything you’ve been wanting to do for the last few months because it is; you kiss him like it’s the last time because it might be.

You break apart to the chime of the bell that warns the private rooms that their sessions are almost over. Arms still around Frankie’s neck, you’re flattened against him – your knees pressed against his groin where you can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, your now heaving breasts tucked right beneath his chin, but he only has eyes for your face – the two of you grinning like lovestruck fools, though Frankie swears your eyes look a little sad.

“Time’s almost up, Francisco,” you whisper. Backing away, you grab your bra from where it fell earlier and thread your arms through the straps. Turning, you hold the cups to your chest and throw over your shoulder, “Do you mind?”

Wordlessly, Frankie expertly hooks your bra closed; when the backs of his thick fingers brush against your skin to buffer the snap of the band, that iota of contact sends an electrical current straight to your throbbing core. And just when you think that’s all you’ll ever have of Francisco’s touch, you feel it: a soft, tender kiss to your lower back. It’s so sweet you have to choke back a sob.

Leaving him at the curtain to the room, you kiss his cheek lightly as you always do.

“See you next time, Shortcake.”

“Goodnight, Francisco.”

As if you were clairvoyant, the call from your old job comes the following Wednesday, and by that Friday you’ve worked your last shift at The Midnight Palace. Saying goodbye to your co-workers, you know you’ll genuinely miss them and truly hope to keep in touch.

You wrestle briefly with leaving Francisco a message, but the truth is, you don’t know what you’d say or what you’d be asking for. What you shared in the private room had seemed so precious and real, but was it really? Could it ever survive in the real world? The real world of kids, and long work days, and mundane chores? If the magic of your time together with Frankie was marred by reality or if he never even responded, your fantasy of him would be shattered and then you wouldn’t even have the memory of him. So, selfishly and somewhat cowardly, you opt to keep your little fantasy of Francisco for yourself and your lonely nights, and you leave knowing that in a week’s time he’ll show up and find you gone.

The return to work is unremarkable and your schedule quickly normalizes to what it was before the lab incident; you’re happy to see your team again and easily delve back into the work you enjoy. The remainder of the summer passes quickly, and before you know it, the first day of kindergarten is upon you.

Walking hand in hand with your son, you can’t help shedding a few tears seeing your child take this monumental step. He’s nervous, but is taking a lot of big kid pride in being brave like you talked about. After helping him find his cubby and putting his backpack away, you step into the hallway to say your last goodbyes as the teacher has instructed.

Burying his face in your neck, your son murmurs, “I love you, mama,” before striding confidently back into the classroom, waving back to your tearful, “I love you, Ray-ray! See you after school!”

Behind you, you hear the sniffles of a young girl who is having a little more difficulty separating from her parent; the low rumble of her father whispering words of reassurance and love transition to a louder and clear, “I’m proud of you, mija!” as the little girl walks tentatively towards the open door of the classroom.

That voice. That calm, deep baritone is oddly familiar to you but you can’t quite place it. You might puzzle over it a little if it wasn’t for your son reaching out his hand to the little girl at that moment and saying, “Hi! I’m Raynor! I’m in your class!” and the little girl smiling back wide, “Hi Raynor! I’m Valentina!” before they walk hand-in-hand towards their new teacher.

Proud of your son and slightly relieved that he might have just made his first friend, you turn around to beam at the father of the little girl.

You can only imagine the look of brief recognition quickly giving way to shock that the tall, good-looking man gives you, mirrors your own. How was this possible?

Francisco.

Part 2 will be coming!

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