#Frankie Catfish Morales drabble

[endlessthxxghts]

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too. W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵‍💫) 18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking. Pics for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵‍💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this… ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise. 

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face. 

Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”

His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently. 

Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear. 

Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”

“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud. 

Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”

Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?” 

An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”

Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal. 

Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie. 

Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be. 

With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop. 

He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes. 

He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-” 

His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure. 

He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste. 

Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face. 

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble. 

“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous. 

“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?” 

Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.” 

End note: LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH

[pedrospatch]

more hearts than mine

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

summary: Frankie promises you he’s not going anywhere.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. no physical description of reader, no mention of her age, reader has both of her parents, reader has a little sister (15 and unnamed), reader has a close relationship with her family (cannot say i am writing this from experience oop), reader is from a small, unnamed town somewhere in the midwest (state not specified), established relationship, mention of ex-boyfriend, mentions of alcohol consumption, reassurance, fluff, smutty themes towards the end but no smut.

word count: 2k

a/n: this was not planned and very spur of the moment. i think i needed a palette cleanse from writing so much joel. it’s my first time writing for frankie but i like the way it turned out. <3 i it’s 3 am, i wrote this in an hour and it is not proofread, so please excuse any errors. this is based on a song called more hearts than mine by ingrid andress.

“It’s late,” you worry. “Where could they be?”

Amused, your mother watches you anxiously pace back and forth in front of the dining room table. “My darling, can you please relax? They probably hit some traffic on their way back home from the lake. I bet you anything those two will be walking through the front door any second now,” she assures you. At that precise moment, her cell phone vibrates on the table, the loud buzzing noise garnering her attention. She picks it up and raises her eyebrows in complete surprise. “Oh. Or maybe not. Your father just texted me and said they’re stopping for a couple of drinks at the bar. He says not to wait up for them.”

Halting mid pace, you whirl around and stare at her. 

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” She shows you the text. “See?”

“Jesus,” you mutter. Shaking your head, you drop down into the chair across from hers.

“That’s a pretty good sign. Don’t you think so, honey?”

It is because your father taking your boyfriend out on a fishing trip and then taking him to his favorite bar for drinks afterwards means that their time alone together has gone well. But, even though your father had clearly taken a liking to him, he won’t ever show it. Sure, he’ll buy him dinner and he’ll buy him drinks, he’ll check his tires and take a look underneath the hood of his pickup truck to make sure everything looks good, but he’ll do it with a scowl on his face and a standoffish attitude.

“He hates me, baby. Your old man hates me,” Frankie declared after his first dinner with your family. You had both arrived in your hometown that same evening after a gruelling, sixteen hour drive to the midwest. Despite being exhausted from the trip, he’d put his best foot forward for them—he’d charmed your mother and your little sister, had them both wrapped around his finger by the time dessert had been served. But your father, oh he had been much harder for him to win over. “He barely said two words to me all night.”

“My dad doesn’t hate you,” you swore to him, rubbing a soft, soothing circle into his broad back. “Do you want to know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because he poured you a drink.”

He’d snorted. “What, and that means he likes me?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” you joked with a giggle. “It’s still too early to tell if he likes you. But one thing is for sure, he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t break out a bottle of whiskey for someone he hates, Frankie.”

Sighing, you lift your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Poor Frankie. He’s probably spent the better part of the whole day just trying to figure him out.

“I like him,” your mother says after a minute. “I like him a lot.”

“What a coincidence,” you grin. “I like him a lot too.”

She laughs. “I’m serious! He’s incredible, darling. He is so handsome. He’s sweet. Seems like he’s got a really good head on his shoulders—”

“Are we talking about Francisco?” Your sister walks into the dining room with can of Dr. Pepper in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Your mother smiles. “Isn’t he great?”

“He’s kinda perfect, actually.” She takes a casual sip of her soda and raises an eyebrow at you. “I have to admit though, I’m afraid to get attached to Frankie. You know, after what happened with Jake—”

You wince at the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name.

Your mother hisses her name, angrily.

“I’m just saying! When he broke up with you, it’s like he broke up with all of us. It sucked.” She shrugs, adding, “I mean, even dad was sad about it for months. Wasn’t he, mom?”

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Your mother glares at her.

Your sister starts towards the staircase, but stops and glances over her shoulder. “I like Frankie,” she tells you, smiling wryly. “And I really hope he sticks around.” With that, she disappears upstairs.

Sighing heavily, your mom turns to you. “Don’t listen to her. She’s only fifteen, she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t understand what happened—”

Pushing away from the table, you stand up. 

“I’m going to take a walk,” you murmur. “I need some fresh air.”

“Hermosa?”

You stir at the sound of Frankie’s voice.

“Baby. Hey. Wake up.”

“Mm?” you mumble sleepily. “Frankie, what are—ow!”

You groan when he switches on the lamp on the beside table. Rolling over, you bury your face into your pillow.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, chuckling softly. The twin sized mattress squeaks, dipping as he somehow squeezes himself beside you on your childhood bed. He’s staying in the guest room down the hallway—you parents, who were incredibly old school, had insisted the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms during your stay. Draping his arm around you, he leans down and nuzzles into the side of your face. Even with your nose buried in your pillow, you pick up the scent of sunscreen mingled with beer. “Just wanted to tell you I’m back home.”

Lifting your head, you blink furiously until your blurred vision stabilizes.

“What—what time is it?”

“Eleven.” Frankie’s cheeks and nose are red, sunburned from having been out on your dad’s boat all afternoon. You’re willing to bet he’d forgotten to put the sunscreen on his face. Even though you’d warned him a hundred times not to forget.

“What?” You sit up, prompting him to do the same. “It’s eleven and you only now just got back?”

“Your old man took me to Gordon’s,” Frankie explains, referring to one of the only few bars your small town had to offer. It was the place where you would meet with your old high school friends to catch up with each other whenever you were home visiting. At some point this week, you would be sitting in a booth at that old bar with them, introducing Frankie, and squirming when they began to tell him embarrassing stories of all those crazy nights from your senior year. “We went in with plans to have a couple beers before coming home, but then we ran into some of his buddies there. He introduced me, they bought us more drinks, and we played a game of pool. Your dad whooped my ass, of course.”

“How did fishing go?”

“Great. Y’know, once he stopped looking at me like he wanted to throw me overboard.”

You let out an amused huff. “He would never.”

“I don’t know. That man is pretty hard to read.” Frankie reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “One minute we’d be talking, shooting the shit while we waited for the fish to bite, and the next he would look at me like he was seriously thinking about pushing me off his boat and into the water.” He squeezes your hand, a deep laugh rumbling through his chest. “I spent all goddamn day with him and I still can’t tell if he likes me yet or not.”

Lifting his hand, you press a tender kiss to the back of it, a sweet token of affection.

“He likes you, Frankie,” you murmur against his skin. “I know it. My whole family likes you. Except my mom—”

He stiffens. “What?”

“She loves you.”

Frankie turns to you. Despite your smile, he can see the hint of concern in your eyes. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

You hesitate.

After what your sister had said earlier that evening, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake and brought him home too soon. You and Frankie had been together for about six months now, and besides having a drawer of your things at his place for when you stayed overnight, you two hadn’t really sat down to talk about what the next step in your relationship would be—you and Frankie hadn’t discussed the possibility of a future together. Truth be told, you had never felt the need to question him about where this was heading. You’d been perfectly content in allowing things to unfold between you without putting any kind of pressure on yourself, or on him. At least, up until now, you had been content.

You’d been silly to think bringing Frankie home to meet your family wouldn’t be all that big of a deal, that it wouldn’t make you consider what came next. But you had forgotten how easily your mother falls in love, how quickly your little sister can form an attachment, and how your father, despite being rough around the edges, feels every heartache you go through as if it’s his own.

You think back to when your previous relationship went down in flames, you remember the helpless look on your father’s face whenever he would see you crying. “I never liked him,” he’d said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey over ice. But that had been a lie. He’d seen him as the son he never had. He lost something, too. Your whole family had to heal from that loss along with you.

Part of you is afraid that it could happen again.

“Amor?”

Frankie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

You glance down at your hand in his. “Frankie, the last thing I want to do is scare you off,” you start to say, a nervous edge to your tone. “Or put any kind of pressure on you to give me anything more than what you have already given me. But now that you’ve met my family, I can’t help but worry a little bit.”

He frowns. “What are you worried about?”

Sighing, you confess, “My last relationship—it didn’t end very well, Frankie. My family loved him, adored him the way I can see they’re already starting to adore you. When he broke up with me, he broke more hearts than just mine.” You force yourself to look up, and meet his gaze with a wistful smile. “I guess there’s a part of me that’s scared it’ll happen again.”

Frankie’s dark brown eyes soften. “Oh baby, there’s no need to be scared. That’s never gonna happen.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll never happen?”

“Easy, because I love you. And I know you love me.” He reaches over with his free hand and he cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheekbone. “I’m in this for the long haul. I wouldn’t have driven sixteen hours across the country with you to come meet your family if I wasn’t. I’m serious about you—I’m serious about us, baby.”

Frankie leans in, gently pressing his mouth to yours in a chaste, but sweet kiss.

“Do you wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you see?”

“Mi futuro,” he tells you. “I see my future.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest. “You do?”

“I do. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, and so is your family,” Frankie grins. “Your dad is gonna have plenty of opportunities to contemplate throwing me off his boat and into the lake.”

You giggle as he kisses you again before trailing his lips down to your neck. “Frankie,” you say his name warningly as he pushes you onto your back. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently, positioning himself on top of you. He plants his hands on either side of your head and dips his head, nipping lightly at the tender flesh over your pulse point. “How thin are these walls?”

“Francisco Morales, no, you are not fucking me in my parent’s house, not in my childhood bedroom—”

His bulge brushes against your thigh and you gasp.

“Guess I’ll head back to the guest room, then,” Frankie murmurs, feathering one last kiss onto your neck.

He starts to climb off of you and your hands shoot out, curling around fistfuls of his shirt to stop him.

“I can be quiet,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip. You take one of his hands and guide it underneath the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing to the apex of your thighs. “Can you?”

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, running a finger along the damp cotton of your panties. He slips it beneath the fabric, his blood rushing south when he meets your slick folds. “God, I fucking hope so, or else I’ll actually end up at the bottom of that fucking lake.”

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[umadosedepascal]

MEET ME AT THE SET | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | one shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro is THE GENERAL, babe!

wc: 1.3k

rating/warnings: [oral sex m receiving] [cum in mouth] [light fingering] [Overstimulation]

a/n: @missyorkswhore wrote her first solo fic by herself! Kudos to her!!! That’s what a horny gal does staring at new stills of Pedro in Gladiator II

The shootings has been intense, Pedro tells you by messages how busy and exhausting it is, they start recording as soon as the first rays of Sun appear and only at night he returns to the hotel.

This has been your relationship, messages, backstage pics and some calls during the night.

You miss him.

"I miss you, I hope you're having fun, General."

You send him a message, hours later his phone vibrates, it's already dawn, you pick up your phone, your eyes burning with the brightness of the screen.

"Hey, I miss you too. God, I'm exhausted and happy, I have good news! It's the last week of shooting, come here, we can enjoy a few days together. Are you coming?"

You smile and type a huge YES. You talk for a few minutes and Pedro sends your flight info and hotel to your email.

Three days later you are on your way to the set, Pedro couldn't pick you up at the airport, but arrange a car to take you immediately to the set.

You enter through the back of the set, producers and employees everywhere, and in the background you can see the huge arena they created, you feel as if you were in two eras, on your left ancient Rome, on your right the current world full of cameras, phones ringing and people walking back and forth.

You walk between the trailers, looking at the doors that indicate where each actor is, a few more steps and your eyes meet the sign "Pedro Pascal -Marcus Acacius" you knock on the door but your jaw drops as soon as the door is opened. Pedro has one hand on the door and the other on his hip. He is incredibly beautiful, a white outfit with golden details, the golden drawings highlighting the middle of the white armor. Your eyes go up to Pedro's face, he wears a golden laurel crown.

-Wow... sorry, I thought it was Pedro's dressing room...

Pedro laughs and pulls you by the hand

-No love, Pedro is unavailable at the moment, only General Acacius now.

He kisses you and you feel his taste, the taste you were searching for. His right hand goes to your waist pulling you against his body, his left hand on the back of your neck, lightly pulling your hair making your head tilt back.

-God, I missed that so much.

He murmurs as he runs his lips down your neck leaving soft bites that make you shiver and moan softly.

You push him until Pedro falls sitting in the armchair behind him, he smiles as he watches you kneel slowly at him.

-I heard that in ancient Rome after battles men went for a bath place, is this the name?

And they were very well taken care of... and you're so exhausted, aren't you general?

Pedro laughs softly and caresses his cheek with his fingers going down the sensitive skin of your neck, he nods and whispers

-Yes, so exhausted.

You run your hands down his legs, the skin hot, the muscles getting tense under the palms of your hand. You don't stop looking at him, seeing how his lips become half open, his eyes getting darker and darker.

You raise your hands until the tips of your fingers meet his underwear, feeling the heat of his cock.

You pull his underwear down, taking them off by the legs and throw them on the floor.

Pedro looks hypnotized, he smiles and you go up the fabric of his clothes until his cock is fully exposed, the wet pink tip, the lateral vein pulsating while he whispers.

-Is that what you want?

He smiles debauchedly.

You nod your head, your right hand holding by the base feeling it pulsating, Pedro's eyes close quickly. His breathing changes when you lick the drop that accumulates at the tip, his thumb goes up to your lips spreading the liquid, you suck his finger, biting and making Pedro gasp his hand going straight to your hair.

-Don't play with me like that or-

Before he can complete the sentence you put his cock in your mouth, as much as you can, his bittersweet taste on your tongue, the lateral vein pulsating, the unique smell of his skin invading your nostrils.

Pedro moans and you look at him and can't hold back the moan with what you see. Pedro with his eyes almost closed, his mouth open, his breath starting to get panting and the damn laurel wreath. He looks like a fucking Greek God.

You swallow it all feeling it hit your throat. Pedro lets his head fall back and a hoarse moan comes out of his throat, his hand grabs your hair firmly, conducting as he wants, how hard he wants to fuck his mouth.

You continue the up and down movements, swirling your tongue at the tip, you can't look away, his vision with the white armor.

Pedro takes his left hand to your head, both hands guiding you, making you take him so deeply.

He bites his lip, you know he wants to moan and curse, but now it takes a little silence, only small hoarse moans escape his lips, his eyes wandering between his mouth and his eyes.

-If it continues like this I'll cum in your mouth...fuck! - he moans loudly when he feels you masturbate him while your tongue passes through the tip provoking him, you whisper

-Is that what you want, general? - you gently run your tongue over the tip of his cock, provoking the sensitive skin that makes his legs tense.

Pedro growls and pushes his head making your mouth swallow his whole cock.

-Damn, yes...don't stop, please.

Pedro's right hand finds yours on the inner of his thigh, his fingers intertwining yours, while the left hand holds your hair, preventing the strands from hindering his vision of you sucking it.

You suck for a few more seconds until you feel Pedro squeezing your hand hard, his legs shaking, moans escaping from his lips, so low that they seem growling. You swallow every drop, licking until Pedro has spasms and pulls you to his lap.

He sticks his forehead to yours, panting, he kisses your lips pulling between his teeth and smiles.

-I missed you so much.

Pedro unbuttons your pants, his fingers dipping inside your panties and feeling how wet you are.

-Shit, I need to feel you on my tongue now.

He says while biting and licking your neck.

A knock on the door catches your attention, someone says that Pedro's scene is the next one to be shoot. He throws his head back, frustrated and you laugh.

-All right, go soon General... I'll be at the hotel waiting for you.

Pedro kisses you, his middle finger dives into your pussy and he takes it to his lips, sucking while moaning as if he were tasting the best dessert in the world.

-Now I can go...wait for me at the hotel, I'll be there in a few hours.

He kisses you, fixes the clothes wearing the underwear again. He looks at you and smiles, he hugs you and kisses your forehead and then your lips.

-I really missed you.

He turns around, puts on his sunglasses and opens the trailer door, and leaves.

You can't wait for the day to end.

——————————-

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[jolalibrary]

untangling

frankie morales x f!reader

this little drabble is half my fault and half @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain — so blame the latter for why you’ve seen me post so much today.

WARNINGS: reader gets riled up watching frankie detangle a necklace, competency kink is on full form, a bit smutty, alludes to a blowjob, established relationship. written on my phone, so likely errors. word count: 1k

If only you were more careful. A thought so easy to have now, all in retrospect—the carnage of past actions held delicately between your fingers.

He says it sometimes, comments on it with a small smile when you’re clumsy—when you find yourself tumbling or walking into doorways. This is a little different, a little less clumsy and a little more careless.

Hunched over the bed, back aching, sweat beginning to build on your lower spine—just hoping it doesn’t ruin the fabric you’d slipped over your head only ten minutes ago. Because now you’re running late, behind on the time you told him.

All because you’d haphazardly thrown your necklace into your jewellery box the last time you’d worn it. Giddy, excitement building in your muscles as you stripped and rid yourself of everything that could stand in the way of feeling him. The necklace’s removal had been cautionary, not wanting it to be ruined.

The irony.

Each attempt at untangling the knot comes with a fresh, heavier exhale from your flared nostrils. Irritation weaves itself into your muscles with each minute that ticks on by, as another blow of hot breath dances down the V of your dress.

Tears begin to prick, distantly hearing him moving around just below. Waiting, likely checking his watch out of fear of being late—because he loathes being late, a thing from his army days, a part of his character.

The only thing soothing you is the lingering scent of his aftershave. It floats in the air of the bedroom the two of you share, even if he left it over half an hour ago for you to get dressed.

Which, technically you are—just not completely.

Because you can’t go to dinner with him without this.

The gift from your first few months of dating. A present, a thing picked, chosen and given by him. All hopeful almond-brown eyes, relief flooding through him when you told him you loved it as fingers on your neck—all warm, calloused—helped fasten it.

It’s why you have to detangle it. Fix it.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck—“

“Querida?”

It’s soft, laced with concern. A tone you don’t deserve when you look over your shoulder and find him in the doorway—looking even more handsome than the day you first met him.

It’s a rush, a collection of words that make an amalgamated sentence he’s somehow able to decipher. But then, Frankie speaks you; he knows you. Can read your body as though it talks directly to him, spills secrets to him your brain is not yet willing to provide.

You suppose it’s why your body relaxes at his touch, fingers on the back of your arm, knuckles up and down in soft lines.

“Let me try, baby.”

All calm and collected, his hand gesturing out—nothing but soft brown eyes that meet yours as you slide the chain and the pendant into his palm.

It’s like watching magic happen. His fingers—all thick, worn, weathered—somehow able to begin to loosen the crime you committed. The metal listening, doing as he commands as he begins to undo the work from you hurrying all those months ago.

Some part of you is in disbelief, because it shouldn’t be a thing. Those fingers compared to your thinner ones, and yet, you’re watching it happen—seeing in real-time as once again he does the impossible. As the chain begins to sit flat, no ball of shambles, just a beautiful necklace in his finger.

And it makes heat bloom in your stomach, a knot forming and tightening that makes it hard to think of anything but how good his hands are in other places too. Your thighs pressing together, teeth biting down on your lip, all desperate to alleviate, unsure how watching him do such a mundane task is making you so wet between your legs. So much so, you struggle to swallow when he flicks his eyes up to you and smiles.

Because how can you be so impressed, dumbfounded and utterly turned on that he did that so easily, so competently—as though it was the easiest thing of all?

“Stand up and turn around for me,” Frankie says, voice low.

And you do. Better that than question the swirling thoughts of dragging his mouth to yours, to sliding fingers into his hair and having his competent fucking hands slide your dress up your thighs—have him ball it up, show you what else he can do (for the billionth time) with limited time.

The bed squeaks as you stand, almost wobbling, heels clicking on the floor as you move and stand before him, turning, as you see his hands in your peripheral and feel cold metal on your skin.

“Have I told you how good you look?”

Smiling, heat warms your cheeks—it fizzing in your ears. “Not yet, Morales.”

Fingers pressing the pendant to your chest, hearing him fastening—imagining the tip of his tongue poking through his lips, face full of concentration and focus.

“You look beautiful, querida,” he whispers as his breath dances over your neck, necklace fastened, perfectly in place as his fingers slide down over your shoulders, resting on your arms as he

Taking in a measured breath, you turn your head, catching his gaze—seeing it flick from your face to the deep V of your dress.

“How long have we got, Morales?”

It leaves your tongue calm, plain. But you suspect he knows what you’re getting at, likely already knows you’re soaked—seemingly caught on to the competency kink you have going on.

Licking his lips, he smirks, all-knowing as a snort half escapes, “Querida…”

But you’re already turning, mouth suddenly desperate to have something inside of it that doesn’t come on a plate. Hands finding refuge on his shoulders, using them to slip from your heels, before dropping to the waist of your dress.

“How long, Frankie?”

He swallows, visibly. Curses under his breath as more of your thighs are unveiled, cool air kissing over your already-soaked panties. And he mumbles a number, a frame of time to work in.

“Perfect,” you whisper, fingers working his belt, it clanging, loosening before you find his zipper. “Want to still feel you in the back of my throat every time I try and eat tonight, Morales. You got that?”

Whatever comment he’d been about to say is taken, stolen, by your mouth wrapping around his half-hardened cock.

You’re not sure you regret your necklace tangling now.

[berrygoesprivate]

Mouth(y) confessions

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

summary: You fight with your boyfriend and he apologizes in the best way he knows how. notes: A short drabble. Spontaneous idea, as always. Highly inspired by the talk with my dear @millersocean <3. The new BTS Frankie pics also made me feel some things, so here you go.

warnings: oral (f receiving), filth, smut, some dirty talk, established relationship, pwp, no mentions of y/n, no physical description of reader, Frankie the king strikes again, nicknames, if you squint Frankie is a cute boy in this

Jodidamente precioso = fucking beautiful

word count: 1k

“You’re so freakin’ cute when you’re mad,” is the last sentence you are able to hear before Frankie’s dark curls dip down between your thighs. Gentle but with the right amount of firmness his large, slightly calloused hands separate your legs.

“So wet already, mi amor,” he purrs as his perfect nose presses against the already dampened fabric of your panties, inhaling you as his warm, dark brown eyes look up between your legs and the heat starts to pool even more. Fuck.

You shouldn’t do this. You should talk this through with him, finding a solution like two proper adults but instead you find yourself being spread open on the couch with your boyfriend kneeling on the floor in front of you. It’s always like this with Frankie. Every time the two of you fight you’re ending up fucking and afterwards you always forget why you were mad about in the first place.

You’ve privately called it the “Frankie effect”.

Sometimes you even consider if he does that on purpose. Fighting with you just because it makes the makeup afterwards so much more rewarding. Maybe he’s some kind of masochist, you think. But who are you to deny him what he’s best at? Why let words spill when a mouth, in his case, is so much more powerful eating you out.

His gaze is still on you as he starts to take off your underwear slowly, almost torturously slow while your eyes are still locked. He pulls it down your legs, burying his face in the fabric for a moment, his eyes closed and when he opens them back up they are so much darker, almost predatory before putting them into the back pocket of his jeans.

He grabs your hips, scooting you to the edge of the couch and for a moment it feels like falling, but you don’t because his grip on your thighs is steady and you put your heels on his shoulder blades for support. He kisses the inside of your thighs, sloppy open-mouthed kisses that leave nothing but fire in their wake, slightly sucking and teasing, causing you to squirm under him. His stubble scratches you along with the kisses, in a good way.

“So impatient,” he grins against your thighs. He enjoys this more than he should. Never before have you met a guy that finds this much satisfaction in his partner’s pleasure. But you’re more than willing to give in, give him all of you. That’s the thing with Frankie. He has this ability to always make you feel incredibly at ease even when you’re spread wide open for him, with your pussy already leaking and fully exposed to his hungry gaze.

His tongue trails out, licking all the way up to your wet center. His breath is hot against your skin, making it prickle in anticipation as he finally stops right over your leaking cunt and gives it a quick kiss before his fingers glide over your slick folds. His index and middle fingers ease into you and wet noise fills the room.

“Damn baby,” he aspirates in appreciation. You feel the sound between your thighs. “Look at you soaking for me… Jodidamente precioso.”

In any other circumstance your cheeks would burn in embarrassment but not with him. Not when he manages to make even dirty talk sound hot with your cunt squeezing his fingers which start to move inside you. Slowly and steady as he lowers his mouth onto you as well and it causes you to moan loudly, your hands finding his messy hair and pulling on it, your hips bucking to meet his welcoming mouth.

His tongue focuses solely on your clit, circling around it, sucking at it and it’s almost too much to bear while his fingers glide in and out of you causing you to moan intensely. His movements match your own perfectly, the way you basically fuck yourself on his fingers. You squeeze his head with your thighs, a bit too firm probably but Frankie doesn’t even flinch; instead his free hand finds your thigh and his nails dig into it.

“Frankie… please,” you whimper, needy and desperate. The knot in your lower body is about to snap any second. He knows it has to because he doubles his effort, his tongue drawing faster circles around your little bundle of nerves as his fingers flex inside of you. You know you’re done for.

You dig your heels into his back and feel like floating as you seek your orgasm, your thighs closing involuntarily only stopped by his head still between your thighs. He hums deeply against your clenching and leaking hole. You can’t form any words, the only thing leaving your lips is his name as your release washes over you like a tidal wave.

Frankie gently caresses the outsides of your thighs, kissing your inner thighs as his thumbs draw circles on your skin and he looks up to you. His lips shining with your juices, his eyes still dark but also so full of affection it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. He comes up completely, hovering over you, his strong arms on either side of your head as he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle but passionate kiss making you taste yourself on his lips. Even if the kiss is rather gentle it leaves no doubt he’s not done with you yet and you smile at that insight.

“I hope this was a good apology,” he says, his forehead resting on yours.

“Well,” you start while undoing the zipper of his jeans, your hand gliding into his boxers. His hard length is twitching beneath your hand, already leaking some precum, making Frankie snap his head back and he hisses between gritted teeth. You love that sound so much that your grin widens. “It’s a start… But I know you can do better than that,” you purr and Frankie looks at you again, studying your face before he grins back

“Let me show you how sorry I really am then, mi amor.”

[pimosworld]

Five more minutes

Pairing - Francisco morales x f! Reader (hints of Santiago Garcia)

CW-18+, MDNI,NSFW, smut, oral f receiving, established relationship, teasing, overstimulation.

A/N- This little Drabble is part of a series I’ve been teasing for awhile. Stay tuned 🤍

“Frankie please I can’t.” Your blunt nails dig into his scalp as he growls into your pussy. Your legs draped over his shoulders with his head buried  between your thighs. 

“Yes you can…give me one more.” He chuckles as you try to squirm away from him on the bathroom counter. His strong hands pull you forward as your head hits the mirror. “Sorry.” 

“No you’re not.” You gasp as his tongue circles your clit, his fingers dip into your center stroking that spot that has you seeing stars. 

“You’re right…I’m not.” His husky voice and the scratch of his beard on your thighs has you trembling. He can tell you’re close as you dig the heel of your wedges into his back. “Come on baby, you’re almost there.” You whine as his mouth sucks hard on your clit, his thick fingers pressing down on the bundle of nerves. 

You might come up with a few locks of his hair after this but he doesn’t seem to care as he works you through your climax. 

“I’ve been waiting for five minutes in the truck.” Santi’s teasing voice breaks through the haze as he leans against the bathroom door. 

Frankie sits back on his heels, your slick dripping from his chin and a stupid grin across his face. “Five more minutes.” 

You look to Santi for assistance but he just smirks and sets his watch timer. “It’s your fault for wearing that dress.” 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

tagging a few who might be interested-@heareball@for-a-longlongtime@romana-after-dark@legendary-pink-dot@ghostslillady@casa-boiardi@survivingandenduring@romanarose

[avastrasposts]

Swimming lessons with Catfish

@secretelephanttattoo has taken on the role as my muse apparently and is feeding me inspiration on the daily.

So inspired by this ask, a shortish (2.2k) drabble with sweet and hot Frankie Morales. This one is set in an alternate, no-outbreak, universe of The Pilot and his Girl.

Couldn't find a suitable Frankie coded pic so I must again ask for your inspiration and suggestions! Thank you @secretelephanttattoo again for the perfect gif!

Smut below the cut, you have been warned (or notified if you will).

You hear the giggling as soon as you open the car door, the humid heat hitting your body with a vengeance after the air conditioned interior of the car. Lucía is squealing loudly from your back yard and you follow the sound through the house, dropping your laptop bag on the kitchen counter. Through the sliding doors in the back you see the glitter of the blue pool and Frankie’s tanned back in the shallow end. He’s got Lucía in front of him, holding her gently around the middle as she lies flat on her belly in the water, diligently working her way through unsteady breast strokes. 

“Muy bien, princesa,” he praises her as he almost lets go of her and she glides through the water. 

You hang back, leaning on the door frame, watching Frankie patiently help his little girl take stroke after stroke, reminding her to keep her fingers closed and flat. His cap and shirt lay discarded in one of the sun loungers, Lucía’s dress on the ground just by the pool. She must’ve been wearing her swimsuit under it, she’d been so excited about learning to swim ever since you’d bought the house and now every day after school she demanded swimming lessons. 

Frankie turns around in the pool, helping Lucía flip over to swim the other way and spots you. 

“Cariño,” his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shields his eyes against the sun and smiles up at you, “get out of those boring office clothes and jump in the pool with us.” 

“Look, look!” Lucia shouts excitedly, “I can swim by myself now!” She launches herself from Frankie’s arms before he has a chance to react, and takes two successful strokes before she starts sinking, coughing water, Frankie quickly catching her and pulling her up to the surface. 

“Careful, gordita, you need to be a bit more careful,” he gently scolds her, holding her up as she coughs, “Maybe that’s enough swimming for today?” 

“No, I want to swim more!” she protests, wrapping her arms around her dad, “Please, papá…” she looks at him under her eye lashes, her big brown eyes, so like Frankie’s, leaving him helpless. 

“Fine, a little bit more then,” he smiles and you laugh. You’ve been on the receiving end of Frankie’s puppy eyes more than once, it’s nice to see that he’s just as powerless to resist when it’s his daughter wielding them. 

“I’ll start dinner, Frankie,” you say, “maybe we can….later…” you say, giving him a wink that makes his dimple break out as he smiles back at you with a mischievous grin. 

It’s a good thing swimming is tiring work you think as you load the dishwasher after dinner. Frankie had come back in with Lucía after you called out to them that dinner was ready, sending her to the bathroom to change into her fluffy bathrobe, a special allowance since she would have to take a bath after dinner. While she was in her room he’d come up behind you at the counter where you were busy spooning spaghetti alfredo into bowls. 

“What plans did you have for later, mi hermosa,” he muttered, slipping his warm hands around your waist, snaking one hand up under the t-shirt, his t-shirt, you’d changed into before you started cooking. 

“I don’t know, maybe answer some emails, do the taxes, fold some laundry,” you say casually, pretending to ignore how his thick fingers caresses one of your breasts, circling the nipple. With a growl he pinches it between his thumb and finger, making you gasp as the sensation shoots liquid heat through your body. 

“I have other plans for you,” he mumbles, his mouth just under your ear, before he sinks his teeth into that sensitive spot, beginning to suck a mark into your soft skin. The sound of Lucìa’s bare feet padding down the hallway makes him pull away, moving to grab the salad and put it on the table. 

With dinner done, he takes Lucía to the bathroom for her evening bath, followed by a bedtime story. Once you’ve got the kitchen clean you slip into the bedroom you share with Frankie and change into one of your bikinis, not your favorite one, but Frankie’s favorite. You think it’s annoying because it doesn’t let you jump or dive in the water without flashing your tits and ass to the world. Frankie, on the other hand, loves it. He loves the thin ribbons on either side of the bikini bottoms that untie with just one simple pull, unless you double knot them, which you always do, or the way he can sneak his hands around your neck and with one gentle tug untie the ribbon that keeps the top attached, letting your breasts spill free for his big hands to grab. 

You don’t double knot the ribbons tonight, instead you slip out through the glass doors and into the pool. The water is warm after being heated by the sun all day, and glitters faintly in the light of the porch lights you’ve strung up around the back. You lie back and float easily in the water, looking up through the trees at the pale sky, slowly darkening into midnight blue. 

The gentle splash of Frankie getting into the pool pulls you out of your daydreaming, but you don’t look up. You know he’ll come to you, and soon his warm hand slips along your right side, up into your hair as he gently pulls you through the water to the pool’s edge. His lips brush over your forehead, pressing a kiss to your damp skin. 

“Stand up, cariño,” he whispers and you obey, your feet finding the bottom of the pool as he turns you towards him.  

“She’s asleep,” he says, his voice low, “went out like a light after half the story, but I think the neighbors are still awake so keep your voice down, cariño.” 

“Why, what do you have in mind, mr. Morales?” you smile, his dark eyes and roaming hands are making it very clear what he’s up to but you like to hear him say it. 

“Swimming lessons with Catfish,” he smirks, making you snort loudly and he chuckles as you quickly hide your face against his neck, shaking with repressed laughter. 

“Potentially the worst porno title ever,” you whisper once you’ve regained your composure. 

“I don’t know,” Frankie says, his mischievous grin slipping into something more sinful, “it has potential.” He dips his mouth to your collarbone and lets his tongue taste the salt and pool water that’s hanging on to the skin. You tilt your head and sigh, letting one hand find its way into his still damp curls, the other resting on his bicep, feeling the muscle flex under your palm. Frankie’s hand is unsurprisingly finding its way to your neck, pushing your wet hair out of the way and grabbing the ribbon of your bikini top. You feel it slip across your skin as he tugs, the wet fabric catching on your hard nipples. 

“Fuck…” Frankie growls, “I fucking love this bikini,” his hands following the ribbon down to pull it free from your skin and grabbing each one of your breasts in his big hands, the thumbs rubbing over the nipples as he watches the skin pebble and tighten under his ministrations. One hand drops from you and is replaced by his warm mouth, hot against your cool skin as he sucks the nipple firmly, laving his tongue over it with strong strokes. It makes you tilt your head back, drawing in a deep breath and cupping the back of his head with your hand. 

“Frankie…” you mumble, sighing into the warm night air. He hums against your skin and and both hands slip further, into the water and grabbing at your hips, finding the ribbons at the sides, with sharp tugs he pulls at them and chuckles approvingly when they slip out straight away. 

“You didn’t double knot them, cariño,” he smiles, his mouth leaving your nipple so that he can look at you, his eyes half closed and black in the dim light. 

“Knew you’d want easy access,” you smile back, pulling him close so that you can kiss him, making him open his mouth to your tongue, which he willingly does. He tastes like pool water and the coke he had for dinner, soft lips and warm breath against you as his hands pull your bikini bottoms away, letting them float off somewhere in the pool. 

It’s not until his hands pull you flush against his hard erection that you realize that he doesn't have any swim shorts on, just naked, hot skin pressed up against you in the water. He’s grinding himself against you, pulling your legs apart a little so that he slips between your plush thighs and rubs his hard length against your clit. It makes you moan into his mouth, his fingers gripping your hips, rutting against you as he breathes heavily into your mouth, barely contained moans slipping from him. 

“You feel so good, bebita, so fucking good even in the water,” he mumbles, thrusting harder between your thighs. 

“Frankie, please,” you moan, tangling your fingers tighter into his curls, “fuck me…I..I need you inside me, please.” 

You spread your legs, letting him slip out from between your thighs and he gives an unhappy hiss at the loss of contact. But you quickly hook your legs around his waist, the water making you almost weightless, and he turns you both around, pushing you up against the edge of the pool. With a firm grip around the base of his cock you guide the blunt head against your opening, made slick both by the pool and your arousal. Frankie locks eyes with you, one big hand around the back of your neck, as he slowly pushes in, making you keen under the sweet sting as he stretches your tight entrance. His mouth is open, tongue resting on his bottom lip, you watch him quickly lick it before he bites down, grunting as he drives his thick cock deeper inside. 

“Mierda..” he pants, glancing down at where his length is disappearing into you, made blurry by the water, “so fucking good…” 

You tilt your head back, Frankie’s hand holding you steady as you close your eyes and relish the burn in your core, the pulsating feeling in your spine. Frankie bends his head to your neck, his teeth biting down, hard, on the soft skin, the pleasure from the nip shoots through you and makes you clench around his heavy cock, nestled deep inside. He hisses and begins to move, one hand on your hip, the other still cradling your neck. 

The water sloshes around you, splashing against the edge of the pool as he drives himself deeper, groaning against your throat. You have to grip on to his shoulders to ground yourself, the slip and slide of the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit with every thrust of hips. Biting your lips hard, you breathe through your nose, trying to stop yourself from crying out. Frankie’s low grumbles, throaty groans, float through the still night air, he’s trying, but can’t hold it back. 

“Baby, I’m not gonna last,” he mutters, moving up to watch your face contort with every thrust of his cock, “Look at me, please, hermosa, I wanna watch when you come, so fucking beautiful every time.” 

You blink open your eyes with a heavy effort, Frankie pushing your head up so that his dark eyes can stare into yours. 

“You feel so fucking good, when you come around my fat cock,” he growls, slamming his hips into your harder, as much as the water will let him. It’s splashing over the edge, covering your both as he chases his high, holding on to let you get to yours first. 

“C’mon, cariño, be good to me, let me feel you come, you take me so fucking well, so tight for me, so slick, so fucking tight,” he moves his hand from your hip, finding the aching bundle of nerves between your legs and finds that perfect rhythm, a tiny bit more pressure that has you gasping as squeeze your eyes shut. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it, c’mon, let me feel it,” he moans, holding on against his own climax as he works you through it, sealing your mouth with his own when your cries threaten to grow loud. You cry out into his mouth, wailing as his thick cock coaxes every last ounce out of you.

As you begin to come down he digs his fingers into your hips and grinds into you, your spasming pussy milking him dry with every thrust as he fills you up with his spend. You can hear him groan under his breath, low grumbles and heavy panting, a long exhale as he finally slows, his forehead against your shoulder now. 

“Fuck…” he mutters, you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I just realized this means I need to clean the pool before tomorrow.” 

You bite your lip, trying to stop the laughter but your body shakes and betrays you.

“For what it’s worth, Frankie, it was totally worth it,” you giggle, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls out of you with a hiss.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who cleans the pool.” 

Also tagging @ladybess-a03 @harriedandharassed @your-slutty-gf @rhoorl @casa-boiardi @trulybetty because I think you might like it 🥰🥰

[thetriumphantpanda]

Drabble/One shot request!

I read it and instantly saw this as Frankie smut scenario…

“you don’t have to be gentle. i won’t break”.

Frankie’s first time with a new lady friend. He really likes her, so he’s being softer than usual, gentle. She really likes him too but can tell there’s a darker side to him under the surface and she wants to test the waters…

ANON YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I'VE BEEN SITTING ON THIS... I love this request so thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you like it and that I did your idea justice.

Pairing | Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count | 2.3K

Warnings | Unprotected PiV sex, fingering, spanking and biting but nothing else I can think of apart from puppy dog Frankie.

ENJOY ALL.

Frankie was nervous, there was no beating around the bush with that one. He’d changed his shirt twice and had needed to comb his hair more times than he’d care to admit because he couldn’t stop fussing with it. Never had this problem wearing a hat, but Benny had told him that if he’d turned up to your house wearing a baseball cap it would be lights out for his chances with you. 

He was early, so he’d been sat in his truck a few doors down so you hadn’t noticed he was early, glancing at his watch, willing the time to move faster so he could knock on your door and see you again. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked someone as much as you. He’d seen you at the bar and if it hadn’t been for Benny and his insistence that he walk up and ask for your number he wouldn’t be here. You’d been casually dating for a few months; he would take you out on walks and he knew he’d fallen for you when he’d taken you to the diner in town after a heavy night of drinking with his friends and watched you demolish a bacon cheeseburger and a peanut butter milkshake without worrying about what he would think of the sauce on your face. 

You’d invited him to your place for the first time, coaxing him with the promise of dinner and cold beer, he’d seen in your eyes that there was promise of something else too which was the reason he was so nervous. He couldn’t remember that last time he’d touched a woman, at least not one he liked as much as you. 

He rang the bell at 6:58, thinking that was as close to 7pm that he could be before he talked himself out of it. You opened the door with an apron wrapped around your body, covered in all sorts of ingredients, he could make out flour, tomato and what looked like gravy spattered amongst other things he couldn’t place. 

“Hello.” You were breathless and your hair was falling out of the low bun at the back of your head to frame your face. 

“Hello,” Frankie replied, dipping to press a kiss to your lips as casually as he could muster, “You’ve got a little something right here.” He reached out and dragged his thumb across your cheek, pulling his fingers to your eyeline to show you the flour he’d wiped off. 

“If that’s all that’s on my face I’ve done a good job, you should see the state of the kitchen,” You laughed, moving to let him into your home, “It looks like a literal bombsite so I apologise.” 

“No need to apologise when it smells so good,” He countered, mouth already watering at the smells that were emanating from the kitchen, “What did you make?” 

“Lasagna,” You grinned, “And apple pie for dessert.” 

He let out a groan, letting his stomach do the talking for him, “You have no idea how good this sounds.”  “Sit down then, it’s almost ready.” 

***

Dinner was long forgotten, leftovers packaged up and put away with the dishes and pans soaking in the sink. You had a glass of wine in hand and were lounging on the couch, legs draped across Frankie’s lap as he sipped on a beer, absentmindedly running his fingers along the skin of your legs, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, turning to you. 

“No,” You smirked, “Just excited.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smirks back, raising an eyebrow right back at you, “What do you have to be excited about?” 

You giggled, “I’ve just been sat here thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me.” 

“Well then…” He trailed off, setting his beer on the coffee table as you did the same, settling back into your lounging position. 

He moved swiftly, settling himself between your legs before he crashed his lips to yours. You’d kissed this man many times before, the first time after he’d bought you a few drinks at the bar and then later that night when he’d driven you home and pressed you up against your front door. Then there was the time on the beach after your second date where you’d ended up rolling in the sand together for what felt like hours. This time though there was something different, the heat of knowing what was coming was settling in your bones just as much as it was in Frankie’s, and it was thrilling. 

The man was kissing you like he was starved, flicking his tongue into your mouth to entwine with your own and you could taste the beer on his mouth, mixed with the gum he’d popped after dinner along with someone else that was only him. It was intoxicating and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down flush with your body whilst grinding your hips up into him. 

He dragged his lips from yours and worked them down over your jaw, peppering your skin with barely-there brushes of his mouth. His tongue would lick at the spot on your neck where he would suck gently, you found yourself silently begging he would do it harder so to mark you. You wanted everyone to know you belonged to this man, but his kisses remained feather light as he dragged them further down to your collarbones as his hands ran up the bare skin of your side under your shirt. 

“Frankie,” You mumbled, “Take me to bed.” 

He pulled back, sitting back on his knees to look at you. His skin was flushed in much the same way you thought yours was, heat prickling over his face and his hair was sticking up in curls where you’d run your hands through it. 

“Up the stairs, first door on the left.” 

He stood, scooping you up, one arm under your knees and the other wrapped around the small of your back as your wrapped securely around his neck to keep you upright. He followed your directions and within moments you were led on your back on your bed with him settled right back between your thighs with his lips on yours. 

Frankie’s hands worked up your shirt and you sat up lightly to let him drag it off your body, reveling in the way he stared at you when you led back down like someone viewing the most beautiful piece of art they’d ever seen. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” He mumbled from his lips as they dragged a path down your neck, peppering kisses along the swell of your breast where your bra was sat. 

He slowly dragged the straps down before expertly moving his hands behind your back to undo it and throw it to the floor. His lips were around your nipple before you knew what was happening, eliciting a groan from your mouth and his hand gave attention to the other. He swapped over a few times, which his mouths attention with his hands before he was trailing his mouth down your stomach to the waistband of your skirt. He dragged it off with his hands, stopping to shed himself of his own upper layers before settling his body on the bed next to you. 

His arm slipped under your head to prop himself up over you, the other hand heading straight for the lace covering your pussy, which by this time was screaming for its own attention. He placed a kiss to your lips as his fingers ghosted across your panties, pulling away for you to see the dark heat in his eyes as he realized they were wet. So, there was something else underneath the gentle kisses, you thought to yourself as you winked at him. 

“See how worked up you get me?” You breathed, letting your hand fall to his jeans where it was clear this was working him up just as much as you. 

“Hermosa,” He groaned as you rubbed him through his jeans, “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” 

You pulled him back to your mouth to kiss him, opening your mouth up to him as he licked into your mouth, all whilst dipping his hand under your panties. The touch of his fingers on your clit, even if was momentary, was electric. Your hips bucked up into his hand as your mouth left his in favour of a moan. His fingers travelled down to your slick entrance, gathering the wetness that was pooling and then dragging it back up to your clit where he began rubbing gentle circles around it. 

You thought you were going to fall apart immediately, especially when his lips began pressing behind your ear, his groans of approval at your arousal sending shockwaves down your spine and making goosebumps appear on your skin. 

“Frankie please,” You moaned, “I need you inside of me.” 

You could feel his smirk against your skin as he moved back between your thighs, making a show of unzipping his jeans and taking them off and then he was there in front of you in all his glory. Scars from his time in the forces scattered his body and the softness of his older age was apparent around his middle, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make you his. He gently moved your panties down your legs, throwing them into the pile on the floor before spreading your legs, using one of his hands to jerk his own cock as his other went back to rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. 

“You ready for me, querida?” He asked, moving slightly to line his cock to your weeping pussy. 

“Please,” You begged, “I have never wanted something so much in all my time.” 

He smiled, settling one hand on the bed next to your head as the other helped his cock to slip inside of you. The stretch of your pussy was delightful, you’d never had someone this big before, but the wetness seeping from you made it easy for him to slip all the way inside. The look of ecstasy on his face was enough to make your tummy flutter. You were doing that to him. 

He started thrusting into you, his movements slow and gentle but you wanted more, and you knew he could give you more. You let him continue like this for a moment, your hands squeezing the muscles of his biceps as he moved into you slowly. 

“Frankie,” You moaned, his eyes snapping up from looking at his cock slipping inside you to look you in the eye, “You don’t have to be gentle; I won’t break.”

It was like something snapped inside of him at your words. His chest was heaving and that darkness that had flashed in his eyes earlier was back, along with a grin across his lips. Like you weight nothing at all, you were flipped onto your front, his hands pulling you back towards him by your hips. He was back inside you in seconds and the change of position was perfection. 

He was fucking into you now, the slow and gentle thrusts from earlier were gone, instead replaced by a bruising pace of his hips snapping against your ass. You let out a surprised squeal when one of his hands came down and spanked you. 

“You liked that didn’t you?” He asked, his words coming out breathlessly, “Felt your pussy clench around me, hermosa.” 

“Do it again.” You ordered, slipping one of your hands between your legs to finger at your own clit. 

He did it again, bringing his hand down to your other cheek before using his fingers to massage the spot, god you hoped you bruised in the morning. 

“I’m not… I can’t… fuck, querida I’m close.” He admitted. 

“Lean over me,” You asked, “Put your skin on me and bite my neck, Frankie.” 

Like the diligent lover he had proved himself to be he did what you asked, laying his front over your back whilst still managing to keep his cock buried inside you, slipping in and out with that delicious friction you knew you would be addicted to from this day forward. He latched his mouth on your neck, sucking hard and the pain, the feeling of his breath on your skin, his cock pumping in and out of you and your fingers rubbing at your clit all came together at once to release the white heat of your climax. You were crying out his name and clenching your pussy around him and he was licking at the mark he’d left on your neck. 

“Fucking hell,” He breathed into your ear, “Querida I’m going to cum, where do you want me?” He asked with a sense of urgency. 

“Fuck Frankie,” You cried out, “Inside me please, god I need to feel you cum inside me.” 

Within seconds he was doing just that, stilling himself as his spilled his seed deep into your pussy with a groan of your name into your ear. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he pulled out of you, the last bit of support keeping you upright was gone, allowing you to collapse face first into the mattress. He collapsed next to you, pulling you into his body, the two of you slick with sweat but without a care in the world. 

“I have to get up and clean myself.” You mumbled into his chest. 

“In a minute, let me have this moment for now.” 

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his neck, “If I get a UTI it’s entirely your fault, Morales.” 

He chuckled back but made no effort to let you go, “Was that… okay?” He asked quietly, his fingers running light circles over the skin of your shoulder. 

You looked up at him, using one of your hands to pull his face to your lips to kiss him, “Frankie, it was the best I’ve ever had.” You replied honestly. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” 

“You didn’t hurt me, besides, if you did, I asked for it,” You planted another soft kiss to his lips, “You could never hurt me.” 

[frannyzooey]

Weeknights Drabble

Frankie Morales x f!reader, Weeknights Universe

Rating: Explicit AF

Summary: Valentine's Day in the Morales household ❤

Happy Valentine's Day, my loves! ❤️

--

“Dad?”

“Yea, baby.” Frankie’s eyes narrow at the red construction paper in his hand, his movements deliberate as he carefully cuts out a heart.

“I’m gonna draw a dog on this one, I think. For the teacher. Because she��s always asking about her, you know?” 

Lucia’s body rocks as she swings her feet under the table, her crayons a colorful scatter across the kitchen table and she leans forward, her look of concentration a direct mirror of her dad’s. 

Their darkly curled heads bent in task, you smile at the image and then scrape the rest of the bananas from the jar of baby food in your hand, feeding it to your son. He spits most of them out in his enthusiasm for more, before giving you a gummy smile. 

“Does she always ask about her, or are you always talking about her?” Frankie asks Lucia, placing another heart by her hand and when he catches you looking at him, he winks.

Lucia ignores his teasing, and he nudges his chin in the direction of the high chair, taking in the sloppy bib. “Seems like he got a little more in his mouth this time, huh?”

“Just a little,” you smile, reaching for the rag next to you. 

“Mom?” Lucia asks, scrawling her name across the bottom of one of the paper hearts. “Can I make one of these for brother?”

“Oh, that would be so nice, baby. He’d love that,” you reply, standing to pull him from the chair. “Just don’t give it to him though. He’ll eat it.”

“He really would,” Frankie says, getting up himself to come take the baby from you. He gives him a kiss on the cheek, uncaring about the smear of food across it. “Oh, yum. Banana.”

He gives him another kiss, low murmurs of Spanish endearments spoken into his small ear and then he shifts him to a one armed hold, one you love because it affords a good look at the taut muscle of his forearm when he does it.

He leans in to give you a peck on the cheek; the baby between you. “Why don’t you go take a shower, baby. I got it.”

He smiles down at you, the crinkles surrounding his eyes soft with affection and you lean in for a wordless request for another kiss, one that he grants you. The baby pulls at your hair, and you smile against Frankie’s lips. One, then another; the baby cooing.

Bending down, you place your hands on Lucia’s head and tip it back just enough for you to place a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight you. Don’t forget to brush your teeth, okay? I’ll see you in the morning for school.”

She waves you away, another Valentine created and carefully set aside and you leave them in the kitchen, disappearing down the hallway. 

–

“They go to bed okay?” you ask, padding into the bedroom, cinching the belt of your dark green robe. 

“Yea,” Frankie answers, shifting to sit up in bed. He tugs at the band of his watch, sliding it off his wrist before reaching to set it on the bedside table and you take a moment to admire what he’s wearing: one of his worn t-shirts and briefs, his leanly muscled legs long and relaxed against the mattress.

You crawl up on the bed to join him, curling into his side. 

“You smell nice.” He leans in, letting his lips rest in the dip below your ear and his nose nuzzles the fine hair behind it before he places a kiss to your shower warmed skin. You hear him inhale, his lips finding purchase again and when you feel the tip of his tongue touch your skin, you sigh, letting your head tip back. 

He turns to face you, his mouth opening wider and drunk on his open mouthed kisses, you hum in contentment, your eyes closed. “You want your present today, or tomorrow?”

He pulls back, his eyebrows raised. “You got me something?” His expression slips into an apologetic wince. “Shit baby, I didn’t think we would be exchanging anything. I didn’t –”

You shake your head, stopping him. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I know it’s been busy with the –”

You stop talking, Frankie’s arm slipping behind his back to fish for something under the pillow and he grins, sliding an envelope out. You tilt your head, biting your lip with a smile and give him a gentle shove on his shoulder, making him laugh. 

“Francisco Morales,” you scold him and he grins, leaning in with a teasing sound. 

“Say it again, baby. You know I love when you say the full name.”

You know exactly the kind of reaction you can draw out of him when you do it, and a mental image flashes through your mind, along with his pleading, breathless voice. You raise an eyebrow at him with a smirk, and he places the envelope in your hand. 

Opening it, It’s a spa certificate, from the place you normally go when you want to feel pretty for him after endless weeks in leggings with the kids and you thank him, leaning forward for a kiss. 

“I love it,” you say, placing it on the bedside table. “I feel like my gift is kinda lame compared to yours, though.”

He makes a skeptical face at your statement and you move to crawl into his lap, sitting down on the top of his thighs. Your fingers brush back his curls, the grey threaded with the brown highlighted in the dim warmth of the bedside lamp and his hands settle on your hips as he looks up at you. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Aged since you met him, but in a way that’s only made him look more handsome, his eyes almost black in their thick lashed depths, save for the rich, deep brown that reflects in the light of the lamp and you trace the hollow of his throat, your thumb resting there for a moment before drifting down to catch on the neckline of his t-shirt.

Your hand splays across the fabric, the heat of his firm chest leaching through. He’s so broad, so strong and solid, the cotton of his shirt fitting so nicely around the rounds of his shoulders and you’re lost in your open admiration when he pulls you from your daze when he speaks.

“Well? You gonna give it to me?”

You meet his gaze, holding it when your fingers move to untie the knot of your robe and parting the fabric slowly, his eyes drop to watch.

He doesn’t say anything as you open it, letting it fall from your shoulders and onto the bed, but his eyes - his eyes tell you exactly how he feels about it. 

“Jesus, baby.” His voice is low, husky, thick with arousal as it gets caught in the back of his throat and his hand comes up and hovers, as if you’re too pretty to touch. Silk wrapped and see through in all the places he loves best, he takes it all in with a swallow, eventually dragging his eyes back up to your face. 

His hand finally settles: a broad splay across your chest, gliding down the plane of it before it moves worshipfully over to your breast. His thumb glides across the nipple, watching as it buds under the silk and you let out a heavy, slow breath - one that makes him sit up straighter. 

“I can’t believe how fucking good you look.” His hands move with more confidence now, curving over your sides and sliding down to map the globes of your ass and then he’s tugging you forward into him, forcing you in for a kiss. 

It’s a hungry one, his mouth already so eager to taste and you thread your fingers through his curls, pulling him closer as you slide your tongue against his. He groans into it to match your soft moan, his arm banding across the middle of your back as he shifts to force you backwards and down onto the bed and soon you’re spread out on the mattress, laid out beneath him.

“I can’t believe this is my present, baby,” he breathes between kisses, his mouth dragging along the curve of your bare shoulder, his lips brushing aside the thin strap that rests over your collarbone.

He keeps going, placing his mouth over the silk covering your nipple, breathing hot and dampening the fabric. He nips at it, giving it a suck. His hand slips under the hem, pushing it up over your hips and when he finds you bare underneath, he groans. 

“Take your shirt off,” you ask him, knowing what he is about to do and he complies, tugging it over his head.

His curls are a mussed halo, his cheeks flushed as he kisses a path down your body and when he hooks his arms under your thighs to tug you swiftly closer to him, you let out a breathless laugh - one that slides into a moan when he drops into position between your legs, his mouth immediately seeking you out. 

“Frankie,” you whine, your thighs opening wider for his shoulders and the groan of savor that he lets out reverberates into your slick core, adding to the skillful glide of his tongue.

You look down, admiring the dip and flex of his back muscles as he delves his tongue deeper inside you and then his eyes are on yours, looking up from his place between your thighs. His hand reaches up, palming your breast and you place yours over it, squeezing. 

The soft frown of concentration between his brows makes you wetter, your hips beginning a gentle roll against his open, worshiping mouth and then his hand is leaving yours, reaching beneath him to slip two fingers into you. 

“Goddamn, your pussy is so tight,” he praises over your moan, his mustache and beard already darkened with dampness. “It tastes so good, I could eat it all night.”

He goes back for more, his tongue swiftly gliding over your clit as his fingers push in down the knuckle and then he’s fucking you with them, sucking a release from you as he rubs it out from within. 

You cry out louder than you should when he adds a third finger, and inching them in, his eyes are fixed on the way you stretch around him, his fingers glistening.

“Always gotta work my baby open. Gotta get you ready to take me, huh?”

You nod, his fingers slipping in and out in their confident stroke, and when his tongue laves a wide, firm stripe up the seam of you, he can feel you start to pull him deeper, fluttering around him. 

“You wanna come like this?” he asks, his bicep flexing as his hand moves. “You wanna come on my hand, or on my cock?”

“Your –,” you can’t get the words out in time, his mouth descending again and before you can answer him, he’s slipped his fingers from you in order to hold you tight against his mouth; his damp fingers smearing against your skin in his tight hold.

He doesn’t let up, his tongue working you exactly the way he knows you like and forgetting everything else but the slick warmth of his mouth and the scratch of his beard, you start to fuck his face. 

“Make me come, Frankie. Make me come.” It’s a breathless chant, one that starts out and then slips into a heavy pant when you get closer and when you finally come into his mouth, he groans just as loud as you.

He’s not done, his damp hand catching on the fine silk as he guides you into place on all fours and you’re still buzzing from the aftershocks of your release when he shoves his briefs down to line himself up with your entrance, his hips pushing forward just as you rock back. 

“Goddamnit, baby,” he groans, shoving the hem of the silk nighty up to wrap his hands around your bare hips as he buries himself inside. His hands fit your waist perfectly, so broad his thumbs almost touch across your back and he’s mesmerized by the bounce of your ass with every pound of his hips against your skin, the sound of it filthy in the low lit room. 

Your fingers curl into the bedding for purchase, your face dropping down to hide in the comforter to muffle your sounds, but he doesn’t want that, and so he clamps his hand over your shoulder and pulls you up and back, sitting in his lap. 

“Fuck,” you cry out at the change in position, slight discomfort pulling at your features with how deep he is and knowing just how much he is to take, his fingers seek out your clit, rubbing tight circles over it until you relax around him. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” he praises, his tongue dragging along the shell of your ear. “Take it for me, okay? I know you can.”

You start to move on his lap, grinding yourself backwards on his cock as he guides your movements with his other hand and he can’t stop it from roving, touching every piece of your body through the silk that he can reach. 

“You look so fucking good for me like this,” he groans, his hips meeting your every glide down. The curve of his nose rests between your shoulder blades, his mouth warm and delicate on your skin. “So fucking good. Gonna make me fill this pussy up. That what you want?”

“You know I do,” you gasp, working your fingers with his. “That’s all I want. For you to fuck me.”

“What do you want me to fuck you with?” It’s a prompt, one he gives before nipping your shoulder, biting the firm round before soothing it with a kiss. Your hips move faster on top of his, the bright edge of another release creeping up on you. 

“I want –” you pant, biting your lip.

He feels so good, so filling, so full and thick, no room for anything else inside your brain with how he’s moving his hips behind you and his hand against you. You clench around him, your spine curving to rest your head against his shoulder so he can see your face. “I want – I want it harder. I want –”

He doesn’t let you finish, pushing you from his lap back to all fours and then he is pounding into you; one hand digging into your hip to keep you in place, and the other splayed over your back to keep your upper body down.

The angle is consuming, devastating, all coherent thought gone.

He growls behind you, keeping pace. “Say it, baby. Say it. I wanna hear it.”

“Fuck me, Fransisco,” you moan, the words twisting into a sob and he groans loudly at your use of his full name. “Fuck me with your big cock. Please. Please.”

You come around him just as he starts to come, your pleading words tipping him over the edge and the two of you are locked in position for a moment; spurts of him spilling into you, filling you full. He pulls his hips back, just enough to see the glistening mess and he groans, pushing wetly back in again.

You’re still trembling when he drops to the mattress and gathers you in his arms, his own heart thundering when he pulls you in for a kiss. 

“Jesus,” you sigh, smiling. “I guess I should buy you presents more often.”

He hums a laugh, closing his eyes. “Yes, please.”

Letting him catch his breath, you lay there for a moment and run your hands over the planes of his body. The curve of his ribs, the solid width of this chest, the soft give of his belly. He’s tucked himself away in his briefs, the front of the black fabric dark and damp, and you trail your touch down over his hip, dragging your nails along the top of his thigh.

You bring them back up, your fingers lingering on the trail of hair beneath his belly button and he hums sleepily: sated, tired, splayed out on the bed.

You prop yourself up on one elbow, continuing your exploration. “I’m glad you liked it,” you say lowly, bending to place a kiss just above his nipple and he’s half asleep already, acknowledging you with another hum.

You smile down at him, your hand making a slow, but deliberate path down to the front of his briefs. You trace him through the fabric, finding the thick tip of his cock and when it twitches under your touch, he let out a soft sigh, one of encouragement. 

“Would now be a good time to tell you I bought more than one?” You breathe the words into his ear, your lips trailing along the curve of his whiskered jaw and you feel it against your mouth when he slowly smiles.

He rolls to face you, gathering you in his arms to settle between your legs and when he’s in place, the solid weight of him presses you into the mattress.

Your arms winding around his shoulders, he bends to give you a kiss, but then stops himself and pulls back; the smile of a happy man. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[penvisions]

once more with feeling {frankie drabble}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: flirting with a stranger, language, kissing, suggestive language

A/N: this was a fun little drabble for the fic title prompt game submitted by the lovely @burntheedges

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It started off as a chance encounter at the convenience store. Picking up a prescription and a bag of sour gummy candies. But of course your wallet hadn’t been inside the chaos of your purse. The cards hadn’t been rattling around amid the pens, gum wrappers, scraps of paper with lists, or the lighter that had somehow ended up in there either.

“Shit.”

The cashier rolls her eyes, popping a large bubble she had just blown out from the wad of gum in her mouth. An arched brow her silent judgement.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Okay.” She begins to slid the items away before a figure closed in on your right side.

“I’ll cover it,” A deep voice rumbled and you turned to meet a pair of startlingly wide brown eyes. They were set in the face of a handsome man. Your own roved over him, from the patchy scruff lining his jaw, the plush set of lips set under a thick moustache, the curls tamped down and curling around a cap tight over his head, the aviators slung in the collar of his grey t-shirt. But what really stole your breath away was the toothy grin he was flashing at you as he set down the items in his arms and reached to retrieve his worn wallet from a back pocket. “Gummies are an essential, can’t let ya go without them.”

Another bubble popping startled you, making you realize you hadn’t said anything in response. With a chuckle the man was gently corralling you away from the debit machine, a card between his thick fingers. He swiped it, nodding his head to the cashier as she held out two different plastic bags for the man to take.

“Thank you, that was very kind of you-“

“Fransisco, but Frankie is just fine.” He held out a hand, the bag with your items in it. You took it as you walked along side him out the sliding doors. You offered your name along with a thankful smile. All too aware of the large hoodie you had thrown on over a pair of shorts in your rush out the door. You only lived across the street, but of course you would run into a stunning man on your put off and then rushed errand.

“No problem at all.” He didn’t move toward the parking lot and neither did you, both rooted close enough to catch the scent of each other’s perfume and cologne. You could feel his eyes watch you as you tore into the bag of gummies, twin cherries. You held the open bag out to him as you brough one up to your lips. He smirked as he brought one to his own mouth.

“Cherries, that your thing? Cause you smell like ‘em and I bet you taste like ‘em too, now.” An eyebrow raised, though it was anything but a judgment like it had been on the cashier’s face. It was a flirty challenge and you couldn’t help the pull of your lips to match his energy.

“I dunno, why don’t you find out?” You swallowed, the candy sweet on your tongue and tangy. Your breath hitched, betraying your nerves as he reached a hand out to gently hold the back of your head and pull you toward him. His lips were plush against yours, so soft and faintly flavored from the candy. He didn’t try to push it past a chaste connection, pulling back after a few seconds.

“Mmm, seems like I need to do a little more research.”

“Seems like you do.” The flimsy handles of the bag slid down to the crook of your elbow as you reached up to cup his face. Leaning in, you kisses him with more intention. Allowing for him to lick into your mouth, licking the flavor from you as if he was starving and it was hist first taste of food in a long while.

You hummed, pulling him closer to feel the front of his body pressed up against your own, his hands going around the small of your back. Pleasure pooled in your middle, lighting you up as you stood in front of the convenient store and shared kisses with a beautiful stranger.

Sharing a breath, his fingers twitched around you as your lashes fluttered. His eyes were already watching when you opened them back up.

“Cherries were always my favorite.” He kissed you again and somehow you knew it would lead to a cherry frosted cake and the sharing of vows.

[wildemaven]

My sweet Heidi! Congrats again on your 1K bby!! You deserve it and even more!! I was wondering if I could put in a blind drabble request with my love Frankie and numbers 22 and 301. I’m so proud of everything you’re doing and am so glad to call you one of my best buds. 💜💜💜

Meet Cute in the Garden Section

Wildemaven 1k Celebration / 1k Masterlist Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Blog; No warnings, just fluff!

Prompts: "This doesn't smell like roses." / "It was nice meeting you."

You don’t mean to stare. Actually you do, because it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a while. 

Between reading the tiny plant labels and filling your cart with an array of plants you had been looking forward to purchasing for your growing garden, you can’t help but notice a Dad and his daughter an aisle over doing some planting shopping of their own. 

He seems a little lost, removing his tattered ball cap every once in a while to comb through his chestnut locks, as he examines each plant his daughter holds up to him. His furrowed brow gives you the impression he doesn’t shop for plants often. 

As you continue your browsing, you find yourself in the same section as the cute shopping duo. In closer proximity you decide the Dad is quite cute with how his eyes crinkle when he smiles at something his daughter is saying and you think you see a hint of a dimple through his patchy beard. 

“This one is cute too Papa! Look at it.” The sweet little girl, who looks to be around 5 or 6 years old, says to her Dad holding up the tiny potted plant. “Can we get this one too?”

He takes the plant from her tiny hands, squinting as if he either forgot his glasses at home or thinks he doesn’t need them and continues struggling through reading small print. 

“I don’t know baby, I can’t really tell what the little symbol is, if this one is saying full sun or partial— maybe no sun?? This one might be a little more difficult to take care of.” He tells her as he goes to place it back in its designated spot. 

“Actually, those are pretty easy to take care of— perfect starter plants too.” You say, giving him a reassuring smile so as to not come off as some creepy stranger in the garden department. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you, just thought you should know.”

“Thanks— thank you. As you might have guessed, I know nothing about plants, or gardening for that matter.” He says, laughing at confessing his lack of knowledge about plants to a complete stranger. There’s definitely a dimple, way more prominent when he laughs. 

“That’s okay, we all start somewhere. So far, all of your choices are great ones, you shouldn’t have too much trouble getting things going.” You tell him as you glance over their selections. 

“So there’s hope for us then?”

“Definitely!”

“Papa! This doesn't smell like roses!” The sweet little girl, who looks like a copy and paste version of her father, declares while shoving another plant into their nearly filled cart. 

“That’s because it’s a succulent, no real scent to them.” You say, and guessing by her confused expression, she doesn’t know what one is. “It’s like a cactus, but none of those pokey needles on them. They’re fun to take care of because they don’t need a lot of water to grow and love the sun, very low maintenance.”

“That’s just what our garden needs, low maintenance.”

He doesn’t have a ring, but you're aware not everyone wears one these days, so you use your sleuth skills to ask about his marital status so you don’t over step any sort of boundaries. 

“Well, I’m sure your wife will be happy with everything you two have picked out.”

“Oh, we’re not married— I have her on the weekends and she’s been begging to plant a garden since she has one at her mom’s place. And I have no clue what I’m doing so I’m just guessing as we go.” 

Cute, and single. 

“I’m Frankie and this is Isabella.”

You give him your name and you continue to talk him through his gardening hesitations, really soaking up everything little detail you’re sharing with him— wishing he had something to take notes knowing he’ll probably forget most of it by the time they get home. 

“It was nice meeting you. I hope you both have fun and I wish you the best of luck in your gardening ventures.” Realizing you had definitely overstayed your welcome, but wishing you could chat more with Frankie— and not just about plants and their needs. 

You give them both a friendly wave goodbye, turning back to your cart to make your way to pay for your own plants, looking forward to an afternoon of planting and deciding what to make for dinner. 

You had finished loading your car with your collection of flowers and a few bags of potting soil, when you hear your name being called, and turn to see Frankie and Isabella walking in your direction. 

“Hey! More gardening questions?” 

“Yeah, I mean— not really. I was wondering, umm if I could maybe get your number. In case I were to have any questions about garden stuff, I could text you or call if you prefer— or I could turn back around and head to my car and we can pretend this lame attempt at me asking to see you again didn’t happen.” He sounds nervous, his one hand firmly tucked into the pocket of his jeans and the other securely around Isabella’s tiny hand— his irresistible smile and charming personality has really won you over. 

“I’d love to give you my number— for gardening and stuff.” 

[endlessthxxghts]

We Have Time

Fiancé!Frankie Morales x afab!reader | w/c: 1.7k

Summary: Frankie wakes you up in the best way possible for your last morning in your guys’ hotel.

Content/tags: able-bodied reader, female sex anatomy, no physical descriptions/size descriptors. Established relationship. Porn with minimal plot. Pet names (baby, cariño, hon). 18+ MDNI. You know what you’re getting into. Frankie the munch is back at it again. Somnophilia, some humping... Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Long time no see🩶 I just came back from a tiny vacation, so this may or may not be inspired by some daydreams… I hope you all enjoy!! And a special shoutout to @strang3lov3 for being an author on this with me 🥹 her writing falls after the pink line!😉

masterlist | notif blog

5:43am. 

It’s your last day on your week getaway with Frankie, and you both have disgusting road rage. So to beat the traffic, you both agreed to be out of the hotel and on the road by seven. 

He’s got time. Right? 

Frankie’s on a mission. He moves swiftly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he repositions himself between your thighs. 

You’re bare already. You protested against underwear last night after he cleaned you up. Besides, you knew where it would lead in the morning. Whether you were trying to subliminally hint at him or not, he’s not stupid, but boy is he weak. 

Frankie lets out a soft moan the second his eyes are on you, his cock already hard and aching. You move, then. A deep sigh and a turn of your head the other way, and you’re back to lightly snoring. 

Settling himself between you, his hands on the outside of your thighs, he smiles, kissing the inside of your leg sweetly before bringing his attention back to your core. He leans in, slotting his lips right against yours. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

Dipping lower, Frankie sticks his tongue out, licking a flat stripe up through your folds. Your hand twitches at that. He repeats the motion again, slower, more precise. He does that several more times until you’re leaking onto the bed sheets.

You shift in his hold; your body is reacting—becoming restless, but still, you’re stuck in a state of half consciousness. He laps up your slick once more, and then he brings his tongue up to your clit. He circles it, latches his mouth, and bingo. You’re awake.

With a gasp of his name, your hand flies towards his bed head, immediately guiding his motions to the pace that you need—his favorite part when you finally wake up. He kisses and licks at you, entirely making out with your cunt as you rock back and forth on his face. “F-fuck, baby, oh my god,” you cry out. 

He groans into your entrance, enjoying the mess he’s made like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He gives your pussy one more open-mouth, slobbery kiss before his tongue circles your hole, the pink muscle sliding in and taking in the velvety warmth of you. The sensation has Frankie jutting his hips into the squeaky bed, the rest of his body on fire with need.

He feels you flutter around his tongue, and his hands find their way to your waist, yanking you impossibly closer, his mouth and nose flushed against your core. He fucks his tongue in and out of you, the tip of his nose catching where you’re most sensitive with every push inward. Frankie’s hips thrust at the pace of his tongue, filling your walls with his whines and cries as he humps the already-abused hotel furniture. 

“Sh- shit, baby, shi- don’t stop, Frankie baby, don’t fuckin-” you gasp, your hand releases his curls and reaches for your pillow, your fingers begging to rip the fabric. 

Frankie’s hips rock faster at the sound of your pleas, and he doubles down on his efforts. He removes his tongue from your hole to bring his attention back to your throbbing nerves as one hand releases his hold on you. His middle finger swirls through your folds, covering himself in your arousal before he pushes the digit inside. Pushing in then out, in, then back out again, the next time he pushes in, his ring finger joins him, forcing the sweetest of gasps from your throat as your back arches off the mattress. 

Within seconds, your eyes are clamping shut as you scream out his name, your hips going rampant as you practically grind against Frankie’s face. Frankie pulls away from your cunt as his fingers continue to fuck you through your high; he looks to your face in ecstasy then back down to the way his fingers are inside you—the way his fingers are now covered in your creamy slick. He’s so entranced by you, he doesn’t realize your sudden burst of strength as you hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with him the way his fingers alone start working you up to your second orgasm. 

“Gonna cum too, baby?” Your breathy voice snaps his attention to you immediately. You nod your head, pointing out with a lazy smirk the way his hips are still thrusting against the mattress. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing instantly. He tries to stop himself, but he’s too wound up now to stop. He doesn’t like cumming unless it’s because of you. Unless it’s in you. 

“Come on,” you whine as his fingers hit that spongy little sweet spot. “Cum with me, Frankie, cum like that, and then your next one goes inside me, yeah?” 

“Shit,” he grunts, slowing his rhythm but pushing deeper into the mattress now. “Yeah, alright, baby, alright.” 

He pulls his fingers out of you momentarily, lapping up your arousal, and even though he’s had his taste of you all morning, this is what sends him over the edge. Frantically getting his lips back on you, his tongue rubs on you once, twice, three times, before you’re gushing on him a second time. 

Frankie never stops licking you; he just gets slower, more careful. It’s his way of cleaning his mess, you think, and you love it. The two of you could lay here like this for hours, letting your heart rate and breathing return to normal as the loudness that is Frankie’s mind turns to mush between your thighs. 

He’s in literal paradise like this. 

Of course, the vacation was amazing. It was a week long, and it was with you. But nothing compares to this. A week long, a month long, a year? Fuck, he’ll stay wrapped up by you forever. He’s never been more sure of anything. 

But for right now, he’ll settle for a few hours. He’s got the time. 

Right? 

“Oh, fuck! Frankie!” You sit up, pulling your warmth away from him as you tumble off the bed. 

“Cariño? Baby? What happened? What’s wrong?” 

“The time!” You exclaim. You point to the little digital clock on the bedside table. 

7:54am. 

Shit.

9:56am. 

Frankie groans as he pulls the car into the McDonald’s parking lot. “Fucking packed,” he grumbles, pulling up behind a long line of cars waiting in the drive through. 

It is packed. And you know exactly why. “Well maybe if you ate pussy faster…” you mumble under your breath. It’s a frustrated comment made more for yourself than to be a jab at Frankie. Or maybe it is a jab at Frankie. You don’t know. You’re so hungry. 

You rest your head against your fist and Frankie looks at you in disbelief. He’s gotten two orgasms in your system first thing in the morning, and you’re still nothing but a grump. He knows that head, while it helps, isn’t what you really need right now. What you need is food, and the line for the drive through couldn’t be moving any slower. “Didn’t hear any complaints,” he quips back, and you roll your eyes. 

After twenty minutes of waiting in the car listening to the god-awful morning radio, Frankie finally pulls up to the speaker. 

“Welcome to McDonald’s, will you be using your mobile app?”

Frankie tilts his head, “Mobile what?” 

Before the person operating the speaker can answer, you interrupt. “App,” you snap at Frankie. “I’m making an appointment with the audiologist when we get back.”

Frankie turns to you, “They have an app?” he asks. 

“Just say no, Frankie.”

Frankie clears his throat. “No,” he says loudly. Definitively. 

There’s an awkward pause before the operator speaks again. “Okay…Order when you’re ready.”

“What do you want?” Frankie whispers, his eyes on the glowing menu. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well pick something, we need to order soon,” he urges. 

“I said I don’t know.”

Frankie’s growing frustrated. “Well what looks good to you, honey?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” you bark, “I DON’T LIKE MCDONALDS. It’s for children and hungover people.” You fold your arms over your chest and cross your legs, then turn your body the direction opposite of Frankie. 

“Yeah, and which one are you today? A child or hungover?” Frankie shakes his head. Everybody likes McDonald’s. And those who say they don’t? Liars. 

After a moment browsing the menu, Frankie orders. “Yeah, I’ll have a sausage, egg, and cheese McMuffin meal, iced coffee—” he turns to see you still huffing and puffing in the passenger seat, “Large,” he adds. You’re so crabby without your caffeine. “And uh…sausage, egg, and cheese McGriddle meal for myself. And a strawberry banana smoothie. Please and thank you.”

“Gross,” you grumble. 

Frankie chooses to ignore that. The order is repeated back to him, and then he pulls up to the window to pay. An advertisement for the app catches his eye. “Since when do they have a McDonald’s app?”

“Since forever,” you answer like it’s obvious. And it kind of is. God only knows which rock your fiancé’s been living under. 

As you wait for your food, Frankie taps the steering wheel along to the music that softly plays. He pulls out his phone and opens the App Store to download the McDonald’s app. “I’m getting the app,” he tells you. 

“That’s terrific, Frankie.”

“Does it have games on it?”

“No. It’s to order food. Obviously.”

Frankie scoffs. “You need food in you. You’re a peach.”

And speak of the devil, here comes the food. Frankie is handed a large bag and two drinks which he gives to you, then drives off. You sort through the food in the bag, pulling out your sandwich and then hand Frankie his. “They forgot a hash brown.”

“That’s okay. You can have mine.”

He’s a sweetheart. He really is. You eat the singular hash brown before opening your sandwich and take a bite out of it. And it’s…alright. Tastes like you remember. Greasy, salty, not much else. 

But then Frankie unwraps his sandwich. It’s almost the same as yours, but the ingredients sit between two pillowy pancakes that smell oh-so delightful right now. “Frankie?” you ask, “Can I try a bite?”

“Sure, baby.” Frankie passes you his sandwich and you take the biggest bite you can. And fuck, it’s heaven. You moan in relief the same way you did with Frankie’s head between your thighs. 

“Frankie?”

“Yes, hon.”

“Can we trade?”

Frankie sighs deeply, but he obliges anyway. You hand him your mediocre McMuffin and he eats it, thinking about how much he loves you the whole time.

Thank you for reading!! I seriously hope you guys liked it! I'd love to hear what you guys think even though this one was on the shorter side. And thank you to my beautiful Bug for writing the yummy funny little treat at the end (& also the cinematic masterpiece of a moodboard at the end😭). Truly made my fucking day. I love you. Anyway. I wouldn't be where I am without any of you. Life’s been a bit wild, and it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I miss you guys too much. Thank you for sticking around. Much love xx🩶

divider by @saradika-graphics (pink div in middle by me)

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Grays Masterlist

COMPLETE | Explicit 🔞 NO minors allowed

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Series tags: Two-shot | hairstylist! F!reader | Reader has a nickname related to her job | friends to lovers | no physical descriptions of Reader

Part I

Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.

Sneak peek | extra peek

Part II

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Sneak peek

Shiv’s Salon drabbles

Hair appointment requests featuring Shiv and various Pedro boys as well as crossovers with my other fics. Mostly humour, a couple more risqué than others!

Seams x Grays crossover: Denim on Denim (Joel Miller)

Drabble: Max Lord (TLOU apocalypse crossover requested by @prolix-yuy)

Drabble: Marcus Moreno (requested by @radiowallet)

Drabble: Javier Peña (requested by @imaswellkid and anon)

Drabble: Jack Daniels (requested by @miss-mandalorian and anon)

Drabble: Dieter Bravo (requested by @damnyoupedro)

Drabble: Javi Gutierrez (requested by @psychedelic-ink)

Ask: Max Phillips and Ezra

Ask: Commandante Veracruz

Ask: Ezra’s blond patch

MAIN MASTERLIST

[nerdieforpedro]

One Failed Search - Security Log Drabbles

Part of the Secret Springs Creative Shenanigans

Frankie Morales x Chloé Thomas (plus size AFAB OFC)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Lieutenant Chloé Thomas is trying to investigate Frankie Morales - the Harvey Air pilot that she can barely find information on. It does not go well, or perhaps it did?

Warnings: Jokes and puns, fluff, food reference, very bad nicknames, an angry and flexible York, implied smut? (That came early), double M’s, our pilot being a menace, lots of ass and sass, a sprinkle of Spanish, anxiety, crime listings

Word Count: over 2.3k (Drabble? I mean, it’s what I told myself originally.)

Notes: I decided to make it a personal log because that made me giggle the most, I apologize in advance @secretelephanttattoo but you do have two M’s so we’ll call it even. Possible guest mentions (they didn’t ask and neither did I but I thought of them and then stuck cute things in the graphic so here we are) of @goodwithcheese @maggiemayhemnj and @tinytinymenace

You’ll find yourselves. 😎 ❤️❤️❤️

Thanks to @megamindsecretlair and @soft-persephone for listening to me babble about it. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine & @fhatbhabiee for the Spanish. I may use what I asked later.

Main Masterlist/ Frankie Morales Masterlist

My name Chloé Thomas - head of Top Flight Security for the Secret Springs resort. I would write this out but the thought of annoying York with the sound of my voice delights me greatly. I’m starting my little bit of fun now. That's funny because my code name used to be siren because…wait.

Anyway, I’ve just finished messaging York again about final preparations for security of the Secret Springs resort. He is still refusing the red short-shorts, I told him that the guys work out to stay fit, why can’t they show it off a little? We might even want to think about a calendar at some point, this was a joke, but Dave got mad. I told him he could put a pair to sport around for his Lady Gouda Cheese and he promptly messaged me back in all caps, “DO NOT MENTION HER AT ALL. I WILL NOT HAVE YOU GIVING HER IDEAS!!!” He used all sorts of angry emojis but I know that he’d do it for her. He also said not to call her that nickname but it’s a fancy cheese. I think. She also has a thing about ties and leather jackets. I never gave her ideas. He blames me, but she tells me what she has him do. I didn’t know York was that flexible. Good for him I say, also it explains why he doesn’t want anyone touching his neck.

Everyone has their kinks. Mine seems to be voices and hands. A strange combination. I also found another one - broad men.

Correction - this is about one such man. The pilot of this charter plane for Harvey Air. I swear it was only because I couldn’t find any information on him other than his name, his date of birth, nationality and current address. It sounds like plenty but I’m usually able to see past work history, convictions or court cases, financials and such. He has none. It’s all blacked out. Dave said he vetted him but it’s still strange. The mayor’s Pooka Shells (her main squeeze Marcus Pike) and Silver Rim (her second squeeze Marcus Moreno - they’re still workshopping his code name. She said she would let me know the final one. Gotta tell the difference between those Marcus’s) both vouch for this man.

It makes me more curious, which is why I spoke very kindly to the flight attendant and she let me slide by into the cockpit. I think she was too busy trying to flirt with a man who had been wearing a flannel shirt but took it off and now he’s in a white t-shirt. We haven’t taken off yet and the pilot isn’t here so I poke around, maybe there’s a clue.

I’m caught red handed, bent over laying on my stomach over the seat because I’m too damn short, trying to reach a small duffle bag next to the pilot’s chair. “Can I help you Miss? And careful standing up, you might give me more of a show than you already are.”

I freeze, embarrassed that I’m not only caught but might have my ass out. Mayor El said, ‘Wear a dress, you’ll look pretty in pink.’ I mean, yes I do and I love how I look in fuchsia but I don’t want to show the man my cheeky undies, no matter how much I like that they’re peach and match my bralette. I lean back and put a hand carefully on the control panel? I forgot to ask him what it’s actually called. I don’t stand up yet because I feel a little too much air on the back of my thighs and it feels like he could already see my drawers or will be soon.

“I’m going to reach under your arms and lift you up. That alright Miss?” The pilot asks and I agree. I’m horrified, how he’s going to be touching me and feeling my arms. He might not even be able to and then we’re both going to be on the floor in this cramped space and might delay the flight. God I’m going to hear about this from the Mayor, York and everyone. His tone thus far has been one of concern, I’m not sure why, I was trying to go through his stuff. To be honest, I kinda just want to lie here and not face him, I’ve never had a good poker face and I’ll likely have my mouth open from his resonant voice. My body is a different type of tense now.

Surprisingly, I’m up on my feet while I’m still working out how I’m going to get off the floor when we both fall. We did not. His hands are sitting underneath my arms for a few moments before he retracts them. I turn to face him and it’s horrible. Just the worst possible outcome.

One of his large hands is on his chin. He’s wearing a hat that says, ‘Standard Heating Oil’ and it’s covering onyx curls that frame his face and circle the back of his neck. Stroking the scruff on his cheeks, he asked me a question and I could only respond, “Run that by me again please.” His eyes are the color of my favorite flavor - chocolate. Damn it all to hell. His scant file did not have a photo, he is a beautiful man who has a slight scowl on his face.

He sighs and repeats, “I said I’m the pilot and is there a reason you’re in my seat trying to get my bag?” Very good question. Important question. At this point, I should have gave it a moment and then responded but I did not. Because, well I am me.

“I didn’t know pilots came that broad or strong. What do they feed you? Sure it isn’t some deluxe hearting oil?” There have been many moments in life where I have wanted to hide under a blanket or lock myself in a room. This is a whole new level and I need to be in a padded room. The only blessing is that instead of kicking me out of the cockpit, he laughs. I’m not embarrassed, I’m way past that. Who needs shame when his entire face has brightened? Good thing my emotions tend to change quickly.

The booming sound of his laugh coupled with him throwing his head back and holding his chest, enables me to have a small grin. I’ve made him laugh, I might be able to distract him a bit more. Slowly, I move toward the door and at his side. Frankie steps past me and picks up his bag. It has his wallet, a guide book to the Secret Springs, cell phone and a water bottle. “Am I cleared Lieutenant?” His question makes my eyebrows raise, he has a shit-eating grin. “I know you’re in charge of security. Both Marcus’s told me.” Pooka Shells and Chrome Rim or Silver Dollar - whatever the Mayor actually calls him, I’ll shake the both of them when I get there.

“I see. So they told you my title, did they tell you my name Francisco?” I cross my arms and lean my weight back on my right leg. A stance I use when I’m trying to seem pissed, really I’m hiding my shock. Apparently, I truly am easy to read and he puts the bag down and his hands up. Messing me, I might be a bit pissed now.

“Surprisingly, they did not. Said you’d get mad if they mentioned it. They weren’t supposed to know your name is but it was…teased out of the Mayor. Not sure which one did it.” My hands are over my face. Dammit Mayor….bad enough they know and they can get information out of you. It should be fine, maybe. That’s something I’ll need to follow up on.

“Just, not everyone needs to know. We’re going to have plain clothes guards to ensure safety at the resort. I’ll go back to my seat now. Sorry for trying to look through your things. I don’t like unknowns. Your file was scant and even though the double M’s, York and the Mayor said things were fine-“

“You trust but verify. Understandable. More people should. Well lieutenant,” Morales crosses his arms and takes a step toward me. “You’re welcome to sit in here with me. I can fly this bird without your help, but you seem interesting company teniente (Lieutenant).” His sizable palm pats the backrest of the co-pilot’s seat and snort. Why did I snort?! I avoid that even when I laugh really hard. Dangerous, but I sat down anyway. I was invited after all.

The flight over is smooth as butter, with the exception of a spot of turbulence and landing the plane, I didn’t notice the time go by accept it was too short. And that Frankie mutters while on the ascent and descent and it nearly has me arching my back in my seat. Thankfully I did have a silver of composure and fiddled with my headphones. All the guests are off the plane so I exit with Frankie and the flight attendant who is despondent that Surly Flannel (I didn’t call him this to his face. His resting face is a disapproving glare) has not agreed to see her after disembarking. Instead, he meets a woman who’s holding a boom box and they laugh about a flower. I didn’t get to hear what kind.

The Mayor competes her speech with one Marcus on each side, everyone is excited and there don’t seem to be any reports of thief, violence or the like so far. People are just having fun. It’s nice and peaceful. Where do I go now? I’m in this pretty dress with no where to go for the afternoon.

I mill around the security HQ and decide to explore in the evening when it’s cooled off a bit.

But of course the pilot finds me. “You still on duty lieutenant?” He’d been wearing a simple red shirt and cargo pants with fifty pockets on them earlier. Now he was on a white tank almost silk looking shirt with pink shorts that hit just above his knee. If they were a little higher, I’d be able to see a bit more thigh…

“Always on duty. Are you enjoying yourself so far Francisco?” I ask mainly to distract myself and focus on his face instead of looking down at his shorts. I was transparent about it so I’m sure he noticed. I need to be away from him, I’m just going to keep raking over his body with my eyes and it’s not right. But also…it’s not fair that he looks and smells amazing.

“Yup. Scrounging up people for the bar and the games.” The bar part fits, picturing him pouring drinks and shaking that silver mix cup thing with his arms flexing, biceps curling that devilish grin on his face. I meant to exhale but didn’t open my mouth and just hummed. I can normally present like a sane person, he makes my brain short circuit.

This is the first time I’ve seen Frankie react besides laughing. Humming is pretty weird and I’ve only met him today. “Why games at the bar? The drunk people should be enough to handle.” It sounds like a horrible combination and ripe for problems. I don’t need to go to this bar or any bar with him.

He shifts his weight and tilts his head. Then holds his hand out, “Come see teniente (lieutenant). Judge for yourself.” I shouldn’t have taken this hand, more like I couldn’t help it. I’m weak against that grin of his. Morales has charmed many a person with curling lips like that.

Now Frankie is pouring the drinks and I’m on the outskirts of a twister game that is all giggles and ass. There’s a darts game going on in the corner, a lady keeps trying to start karaoke but three of the other local shop owners keep unplugging her microphone. There one man with a scar on over his eye, shirtless and has a woman and her dog who has an adorable rainbow collar on and curls almost as fluffy as Frankie’s sitting in his lap as he drinks out of a chalice.

Where did he get a chalice? Should there be darts over there? Who brought a karaoke machine in here? Why do the twister people have no pants? Like all have nice asses but everything is overwhelming and the two blueberry mint juleps I’ve had are not helping.

Squeezing through a row of cheeks I’m not sure how I ended up in the middle of, I am back at the bar and Frankie has his hand resting in the palm of his hand. “Teniente (Lieutenant), you ever relax? You seem on edge. Have some fun and maybe another drink.” I ordered a mojito this time, change it up a bit. The bar stool I had to hop up on so my feet are hanging. Seeing the bartending pilot at eye level has me clear my throat and swallowing my own spit. My mouth is watering. I need to grip something and there’s only the bar counter. My hands flat against the surface keeps me from floating away.

“Like I said, I’m still on duty. Water please after this drink.” He pours me some on ice to have after my mojito. I remember drinking it. There was some sort of music and he was holding my hand or was holding his. Then my hand was on his chest. I think we were dancing and he switched out with someone so he could come from behind the bar.

I awoke in a room that wasn’t mine and was able to make it back in time for the morning security briefing with the double M’s, York and the Mayor. It did not help that I was wearing the same dress from yesterday. There were lingering looks, but no one asked.

Thankfully, York has agreed to wipe the video if I never mention red shorts again. It’s a great loss, but I concede. Hanging over a concrete barrier is never a good look, thankfully Frankie helped me down, but what was I trying to do? Was it that bad that I blocked it out?

Ending day one log:

Violence - None

Public intoxication - Three (sadly I was one of them)

Public Nudity - Five (not as many as I expected)

Destruction of Property - One (I don’t remember that either)

Injuries: Minor = six, Major = none

Chloé’s well-being: took majors blows but might recover TBD

Security Log Two

[berrygoesprivate]

Day 6 „Act“ of @thedrabblecollective‘s challenge

I know the world is in pieces today so if you don’t feel like reading it’s absolutely valid

Sending much love to everyone of you 🫂

One of the first things she noticed about Frankie was that his love language is acts of service.

Small things not many people would pay attention to.

“Your car gas was empty so I refilled it for you”

he randomly said one day entering her apartment.

With Frankie she never had to question his love or commitment to her.

He helped her love herself again.

He paid attention to all these little flaws she had and made sure to love them all the same.

He looked at her like she’s his whole world.

She knows,

because he is hers too.

thanks for reading

Feedback highly appreciated 🤍

[pimosworld]

read it again part II

My continuation of some of my favorite fics and series to re-read.

As always please check the individual warnings on each one. I have a wide range of things I read and enjoy and it’s up to you to indulge or skip whatever you’d like.

Part I here

Frankie Morales

Taste like heaven- @magpie-to-the-morning

Fuck it I love you- @psychedelic-ink

Take care of you- @whiskeynwriting

The hunt- @absurdthirst

Santiago Garcia

Ride or Die series- @writefightandflightclub

Cold shower- @the-little-ewok

Santiago Baby- @reallyrallyauthor

Baby Please Series- @hoedamn-eron

Triple Frontier (all the boys)

Then and now- @softlyspector

Team Building Exercise- @mylifeliterally

A proposition- @dameronscopilot

Bloom- @charnelhouse

Steven Grant

But you can’t wait to sink in- @moonknightly

Batons and Unicorns series- @stormkobra-5

Panic- @peterman-spideyparker

Make it up to you- @preciousscarab

Marc Spector

Shibari- @bits-and-babs

Making trouble- @juneknight

Far too long- @fettuccin-e

Tag team- @babyboibucky

Jake Lockley

Getting to know you- @moonlight-presence

Let me help you- @screwtodd-stevesherdaddynow

Look at me- @luc-k-y

So cold- @loki-hargreeves

Moon Knight ( all the boys)

A long night- @myfictionaldreams

Limitless- @missdictatorme

More hearts than mine- @starryevermore

Torn, Show me- @blackleatherjacketz

The shape of you-niverse- @bit-dodgy-innit

Feel free to leave a comment with your favorite re-read or message me directly to include in future installments.

Please comment and reblog the authors works that they pour their time, heart and soul into.