#Frankie Morales/Reaer

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 2

Day One | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Three

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Public sex (car sex); roleplaying; blowjob; cumplay; fingering

“You come here often?” 

You’ve talked about this, sure, but your question still makes him dip his head, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment. You can’t help but smile, biting the inside of your cheek to keep it from becoming a full-blown grin. You scooch your bar stool a little closer, tipping your head into his field of vision. 

“Am I bothering you?” You ply softly. 

“No.” 

“You sure?” 

For a moment, you think he’s going to back off, to mutter, “Red light.” But he nods, and turns his face toward yours a little, and insists,

“I’m sure.” 

You let your grin bloom then, leaning against the bar. You reach out, gently tipping the brim of his hat up to get a better look at his kind, dark eyes. 

“So?” You press. “You come here often?” 

“I’ve been here a time or two before. You?” 

“Nope. I’m just passing through. Or, well—” You let out a put upon sigh, “I was supposed to be. My car broke down, so I called for a tow.” 

“This late?” He pushes his sleeve back to eye his watch. 

“Yeah. They won’t be able to help me out until morning.” 

The man frowns, raising his hand to scratch at his chin. 

“What are you planning on doing until then?” 

“Gee, I don't know,” You sigh again. You can see him fighting back a smile at your use of gee. “Do you know any good motels around here?” 

“Tell ya what,” He sits up, “Why don’t I take a look at your car? I might be able to get it up and running just enough to get you where you need to go.” 

“Really?” You brighten. “What would that cost me?” 

He waves you off lightly. “Let’s just…See what the damage is, first.” 

-- 

He seems to balk at how far you parked from the bar. He casts cursory glances around the otherwise empty, dimly lit parking lot. 

“It’s lucky that you were able to pull off safely,” He comments. “Why don’t you, uh—Pop the hood and try getting it to start?” 

He keeps a careful distance as you climb into the car, shutting the door behind yourself and popping the hood. Once it’s raised entirely, you try to start the car. It lets out a cranking noise before you cut out the engine again. You hear him huff a soft, disbelieving laugh before he mumbles, “What did you do.” 

You step out of the car, leaning against the side and watching the man shine a light under the hood. His brow furrows before he reaches inside, rummaging for something. You hear a clank, then a clonk, and then— 

You tip your head to the side, watching as the man leans back with something in his hand. 

“What’s that?” You ask, nodding toward it. 

“It’s a wrench.” 

You push your lips into an innocent, o. “Now how the heck did that get in there?” 

“Haven’t the faintest idea, ma’am.” 

“How can I thank you, Mister…?” 

“You can just call me Frankie, no need for 'mister' anything. And really, I’m just glad I could help.” 

“There must be something that I can do,” You insist as he shuts your car hood.

“It’s really not…” He goes quiet as you step closer, hooking your fingers in the belt loops of your jeans. He swallows thickly, gaze dropping to your breasts, then to your hands. “Not…Necessary.” 

“You sure?” You step closer, pressing your body up against his. “I really,” Your gaze sweeps over from his eyes, to his lips, then up again, “Really want to thank you.” 

Frankie swallows thickly, adam's apple bobbing like a fishing fly in a lake. He finally manages, “Not here.” 

“Where?” 

He nods toward the car, and you smile salaciously, using your grip on his belt loops to tug him closer to you. 

“It might be a tight fit,” You warn, “You’re so damn broad.” Your lips widened to a grin as he flushes red, his embarrassment plain even in the dark. You worry again that he'll call off the game, but he grasps your wrists, insisting, “I’m sure we’ll manage.” 

--  

“Oh my god,” He mumbles. You grin, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before he leaned down, taking more of his shaft into your mouth. You twist your hand around the length, spreading your spit as it slips from the sides of your mouth and working in a steady motion between your lips and the blunt edge of his zipper. You go still as he rests his hand on the back of your head, fucking between your lips. You can’t help but whimper with each thrust, gagging slightly as he shoves just a touch too far into your throat. 

“Fuck, sorry—” He breathes, sliding his hand down to your neck, but you won’t have any of it. You push yourself down again, gagging roughly, and forcing yourself there for as long as you can manage. You finally draw off with a gasp, tipping your head up to swipe your tongue along the head of his cock. Frankie’s mouth falls open, a shaky exhale leaving his lips as he nods hurriedly. 

You grin, jacking his cock even harder and closing your lips to suck around the head of his cock. His thighs go tight, a shaky swear passing from his lips as he cums suddenly. You close your eyes as his cum spurts across your lips and cheek, his hips giving aborted little jolts as he desperately tries not to rock the car or draw attention to the two of you. 

He finally sags back in the seat, groaning and drawing his hat down over his face. You grin, leaning back and swiping fingers across your face, gathering the few stray drops of cum. You wait until he pushes his hat back up to slide your fingers between your lips. 

“Goddamn,” He growls, grasping your jaw and drawing him up for a kiss. You wobble a little, planting your hand on the back of the seat as you grin against his lips.

"Here," He reaches down, grasping the seat level and sliding the seat as far back as it'll go. "C'mere." He steers you to sit on his lap, your legs splayed across the console to face the driver's seat. His fingers delve beneath the band of your leggings, and you grin as his touch smooths over your dampening pussy.

"Fuck," He groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

"Something wrong?"

"No panties? Seriously?"

"Is that a problem?" You sass, spreading your thighs and tipping into his touch as his fingertips swipe across your clit. Frankie just groans, leaning in and giving your neck a sucking kiss.

"I saw you put them on after we showered."

"I changed my mind about them."

"You drive me crazy," He mumbles. You hook your arm around his shoulder, sliding your fingers up into the curls at the nape of his neck.

"You love it."

Frankie chuckles against your skin, nipping it gently as he swirls his fingers around your tingling clit. You sigh as his fingers slip slickly over your skin, letting your head fall back against the cool window as you drive your hips into his touch.

"Is that what you need?" He murmurs, "Did you like that?"

"Yes—"

"You liked picking me up?"

"Frankie—"

"Pretending you were bringing me back to fuck in your front seat? Would you take me home if you didn't know me?" His pace picks up, hand swiping with an almost vicious speed. You shiver, grip tightening in his hair as you chase your release.

"Would you let me?" You whimper. You're so close, so goddamn close—

"In a heartbeat."

Your back bows as you cum sharply, mouth dropping open, only for Frankie to shove two fingers inside. He strokes along your tongue at the same speed and angle that he strokes your clit, keeping up the urging pressure until you feebly bat at his wrist. He stops then, resting his fingers over your pubic mound, his other hand lowering to rest over your shoulder, fingers slick with your spit.

"We have to go home," He mumbles.

"Why?" You pout, head still buzzing from your release. "You're not having fun?"

"I am, baby." He soothes, "But we're gonna need a bed for what I wanna do to you."

"The backseat's free."

"And it's all fun and games until the check engine light for my back comes on." He gives your pussy a friendly pat before drawing his hand out of your pants.

"Drive."

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[siempre-pedro]

Dancing With Catfish Would Include

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader | Headcanons 

A/N: I’m really loving this series! Marcus Pike is next! then who?  IM SORRY IF THIS IS HELLA LONG 

the sky was darker than normal, the moonlight appearing brighter into your open living room window 

the air was chilly 

your black silk robe not helping the chill on your arms 

soft 50s love songs playing on the stereo, you often listened to them when Frankie was away

it brought back happier memories before he needed to fly 

slow dancing in the living room at 2am 

just wrapped in each others arms 

whispering sweet words to each other 

or on nights before the baby when he would come up behind you while you made dinner 

his arms around your waist

swaying side to side with the music 

you would laugh at his transatlantic accent when he sang to you 

he stupid little moves he did when an Elvis song would come on 

you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was awful 

but it was so fucking cute 

but the memories felt so cold and distant right now

fiddling with the diamond ring that was on your finger as you look out at the night sky

leaning against the wall

you had no contact with your husband since he left with his old crew 

dread was eating you alive 

all you could think about was him being hurt 

...or dead 

God. What if he was shot on site...or their plane went down 

you suddenly didn’t feel so good, you shake your head to get rid of the dark thoughts 

tears began to prick your eyes...as if you hadn’t cried enough 

a noise coming from the front door grabs your attention 

your head whips towards the door 

slowly it opened, Frankie’s familiar body tiredly walked through

putting his duffle bag on the ground 

“Frankie,” you whisper in near disbelief, lower lip quivering 

the man looks up at you, sorrow that once consumed his face was a little brighter as he saw you in the silk nightgown he bought you 

“Hi, Honey,” he sighs with contentment 

you race to him

and he keeps up with your pace 

meeting in the middle to jump into his arms, wrapping your legs around him 

knocking his favorite hat off his head as you grip his dark locks, you missed the feeling of his hair 

the pilot lightly grunts from the contact and puts his hand on your thighs to keep you up 

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” you sob 

Frankie puts his head in the crook of your neck and places a feather light kiss on your soft skin “I told you I would come back, My Love.” 

he puts you down and he gives to a proper welcome home hug and kiss 

he cups your cheek with his hand, the other protectively around your waist

you stand there in silence

you knew you had to ask him “What about the money?” 

Frankie looks down at the floor, his eyes beginning to water “We couldn’t take it...Redfly. He uh... d-didn’t make it.” 

his voice shakes and you press your head to his chest “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to.” 

he nods and puts his arms around you, pressing you closer to his chest 

all he wanted right now was you

 he can hear the music play 

he knows that song 

Dream a Little Dream of Me 

you danced to it at your wedding 

“Our playlist?” he questions with a smile 

“I listen to it when I miss you.” 

He chuckles and slowly moves his shoulders side to side, hearing the rhythm of the music 

you close your eyes and let him move to the slow song 

it felt almost like a dream 

“Want to dance?” he asks you, releasing his arms 

you smile and pull back, putting one arm on his sore bicep, the other in his callused hand 

he gives you all the kisses 

your foreheads pressed together 

singing along to the music 

you join in with Ella Fitzgeralds parts 

Frankie smiles and twirls you 

he knew that was your favorite part 

you felt whole again 

you also felt lucky to have him back 

looking down at you with love as he moved you around the room, letting him lead you 

he takes his hand off your waist and steps away from you 

the song was about to end and he wanted to give you the perfect ending 

you smile and slowly spin into his chest

he dips you and presses his lips to yours 

two pairs of eyes fluttering close, taking in the moment 

once the song was over you ask him “Do you want to go to bed? It’s almost 3?” 

He looks at the stereo and back at you “Nah. I’m good for a few more songs.”