#Frankie morales x plus size female reader

[nerdieforpedro]

You should have called

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Summary: You’re late coming home and Frankie is not amused. You try and soothe his frustration but your efforts are in vain or are they rewarded? That’s up to you.

Warnings: Established relationship, Frankie being mean (but only so much), improper belt use or maybe proper, creepy guy, stalking, possessive Frankie, my bad Spanish (I am practicing but my brain is mush), fingering, cockwarming, unprotected P in V (wrap it up people), smut!!!

“Look my phone ran out of charge, I’m sorry. You know I would have called.” You stood in the doorway as your husband stared at you, his face dark. He blocked your way into your home. Arms slack at your side, one hand holding your purse and the other holding your lunchbox.

You had forgot to plug it up after you called to check in with Frankie at lunch, you had meetings and Tim had kept you busy going over all the files. He preferred to double check your work in your office, in person. He usually used the excuse that because his office was being renovated, you had to go through things in yours. The door always remained open, especially after Frankie had brought you lunch one day and saw that man in your office as you were trying to get your pen that fell under the desk. Sure, you had five more in your drawer, but they weren’t a pen from Frankie’s auto body shop he ran with Santi and Will. You were bent on your hands and knees, and you had told Tim to go ahead and organize those files on the desk, he was moving around papers but staring at your large hips and ass. Frankie did not take kindly to this.

“Hey Cariño, I brought my special girl some lunch.” He said it sweetly, but the look on his face was anything but. Tim cleared his throat as your head popped up from behind the desk happy as a clam.

“Ah papi! Gracias! Set it on my desk. Tim, take the files to the conference room.” You waved him away as the nervous man scooped everything up and sprinted out of the room. Frankie sighed as you showed him your pen and stood up, then sat in your chair, giving your knees a rest. Your husband sat across from you and started taking the food out.

“You need to get rid of that man. He was starting at your ass.”

“I don’t hire or fire anyone honey.”

“Then he’s gotta go to another department. I don’t trust that man.” Frankie opened his pesto pasta. It was alright but you loved it. “Do you like him looking at your ass bebita? My ass?” He leaned forward, tilting his head to the side. You chuckled, it always surprised you how jealous he would get when any man looked at you, be it like Tim did or just in passing. The pilot showered you with compliments and love from day one, making you feel like you were on a pedestal even though most of your life you felt as though you were that sticky stuff on the bottom of a barrel.

“No other man will have this ass but you Francisco. Please eat lunch with me.” You cooed at him. He couldn’t never say no to you. You lunch continued with little quips at each other, and you walked Frankie out and kissed him goodbye. When you returned to your office, you saw Tim standing in your office without the files, sniffing the air. Questioning what he was doing, he said he was trying to figure out what the two of you ate for lunch. He may want to take his girlfriend that no one has ever seen there. It was later in the week when you found him again in your office sniffing your chair that you reported him. Looks were one thing, but this was way too far. You had been in meetings with your boss and HR about Tim’s actions and him moving to another department. There were witnesses that saw him enter your office other times that you weren’t there as well. It took way too long, and the office took you out to celebrate after for drinks, but you knew you had dinner plans. You were going to call on your way home and say you were running a few minutes late, but your phone was dead. Plugging it into the car charger showed you the missed calls and text from your husband after ten minutes and at a stoplight. By then you were five minutes away from home, should be fine right?

Frankie stepped out of the doorway and walked in the house, he was wearing his sweats and black t-shirt that fit slightly tight around his biceps and tummy which you loved.

“Frankie, Frankie, please listen lo siento mi amor.” You set your purse and lunch box on the kitchen island and kicked off your heels, your hands fanned over the pilot’s shoulder blades, they were slumped. You hated that you missed his calls, he had been worried when he couldn’t get in touch with you. It wasn’t like you not to call him, it likely was an honest mistake… “Things with Tim were…”

She just said that fucker’s name. That fucker who looks at her too long. Knows that she’s married as she wears her wedding ring, has pictures of you and her on her desk and sees that you bring her lunch. It started just to visit her, but the first time Frankie saw that man gazing at her, he made sure to buy he lunch at least once a week. Her husband whipped around and grabbed her by her arms. “Cariño, you really came home fucking late, and have the nerve to mention that pendejo’s name!?” He leaned in and kissed your roughly, he didn’t mean to, but he had told you before to not mention that man’s name unless it was about him being fired, quitting, or being transferred. Frankie turned you away from the kitchen island and turned you toward the couch, pushing you as his lips devoured yours. Your hands went straight to his hair, but he reached up and grabbed them, putting them at your sides. “No, not for you. Not tonight. Give me your belt bebita.” He commanded, taking a step back, his sweatpants betrayed his need for you, following what he said you removed it from your skirt and handed it to him. Thanks to Frankie’s confidence in your body, your self-esteem inflated to where you felt comfortable tucking your button-down shirts into your skirts with a belt to hold it up over your soft belly.

Licking his lips, your husband snatched the belt from you and rolled the buckle and a fourth of the belt, he lifted it and brought it down swiftly, cracking it in the air. You flinched and hopped on the back of the couch. You hadn’t seen this side of Frankie before. It scared you, but from the kiss and the way his veins were flexed against his muscles in his arm, you felt your nipples harden and your pelvis quiver. “Qué, mi amor?” you questioned as he approached you and pulled your hands behind you head and tied them behind with your belt. You squealed as he then lifted your legs and tipped your ass up on the back of the couch while your head and torso fell onto the cushions of the couch. “What the hell are you doing!?” Frankie grinned at watching your short thick legs wiggle, he grabbed your right leg and kissed your calf, biting it, moans started to escape your lips. Pushing your skirt up and sliding off your underwear, he admired your soaked pussy as you growled at the cool air touching your hot core. “Frankie, please, at least let me lay on the couch, please…”

“No Cariño. You get to be as uncomfortable as I was not knowing where you were and if you were safe or not.” He sneered, a hand swatted her wetness, the sound echoing throughout the living room. A cry left your lips and you continued to wiggle, you may be able to get a bit lower and relieve the pressure off your back, Frankie kept a tight hold on your calf as a finger traced each lip of your pussy. “Now, now, the more you struggle, the longer I’ll hold you like this bebita. Are you wet for me or that fucker who keeps starting at your ass? I bet he dreams about your cunt too. It’s mine.” A finger slid inside of you briefly before popping back out. You whimpered, wanting more of his thick fingers.

“That’s what I was going to tell you baby… He’s, ah! Fuck!” Your husband pulled your legs forward to slide your hips back up. He saw that you had been trying to slide down, Frankie then slapped your thigh and leaned over to nuzzle your belly.

“Amor, you’re mine. I told you the only reason you mention that fucker to me is if he’s gone.” He used his nose lift your skirt and roll it up just under your breasts, his aching member grinded against wet cunt, wetting his sweatpants.

“Franciso, he’s been transferred! Transferred…! Shit. Untie me and fuck me on the couch. My back Frankie.” You yelled as Frankie’s eyebrows shot up., his grip loosened and you were able to shimmy down onto the couch and flow on your side, panting and thankful that the pressure was off your back.

“Damn bebita, you should have told me sooner.” Frankie rounded the couch and kneeled beside you, he kissed your forehead, cupping your cheek. “You should have told me sooner carino. Todavía tienes que compensarme por preocuparme. Mi encantadora esposa.” Your husband stood and turned you on your stomach, swatting your ass before making sharp contact with it. He pulled you to your knees by your hips and reached over you, grazing your dripping pussy with his throbbing dick. You let out a moan at the friction and felt Frankie undo the belt around your wrists. The reprieve was momentary as Morales pulled your arms to your back and tied your wrists again, leaving a space for him to slip his hand in to grip.

“Frankie! Por favor, isn’t it enough?!” You yelled, looking back at him, the grin on his face made your shiver. His free hand inserted three fingers into your quivering hold and pumped them slowly, your hips buckled, trying to match his pace.

“Bebita, I don’t think it’s enough for you. Not the way your hips are moving or your cunt’s sucking on my fingers. Fuck look at you…this is my dripping pussy.” Frankie growled, moving his fingers faster, he dropped the belt to slap your ass, watching jiggle made his leak more precum onto his soaked sweats. Your tongue was sticking out, screeching Frankie’s name. Your core was tightening, you were so close to climax, but his thick fingers left your pussy, leaving your hips wiggling against the empty air.

“Oh fuck, Frankie please…” Your voice was weak and your head hung, shoulders burning from the prolonged stretch behind your back. Your hips were still wiggling, looking for any stimulation that your husband was willing to give you. The mess he made of you, bringing you to the brink and denying you, he normally overstimulated you through your orgasms, not hold them back. “Use you tongue, your fat cock, just pick one. Your wife’s sloppy pussy needs you. Mi esposo, por favor…” The words made Frankie smack his lips, normally he was the one begging you to slow down as you rode him, feeling like he needed to last as long as possible despite how much your core tried to hold him, your body melded into him with your curves, stomach, and soft arms. His hands roamed your back, letting go of the belt once more, digging his fingers into your flesh, leaving red marks, his marks on your soft body. He finally decided to remove the belt and tossed it onto the floor. Turning you on your side and holding one leg up, he licked your calf and bit it, then put your knee over his shoulder as he lined himself up with your entrance, just putting the tip in. “Mmm…yes, more. More Frankie. Fuck your wife’s needy cunt…” You placed your hand on his forearm, your shoulders curled forward, scrunching your body and making your rolls more evident and compact. Frankie leaned forward, pushing himself halfway into you as he took your breast in his hand.

“Shit baby, you’re mine bebita. All mine, this tight cunt is mine.” He started to move slowly, rocking into and pulling all the way out before slowly pushing himself back in. “So damn tight, you don’t wanna let of me go do you?” Whimpering was all you were capable of as he started to speed up and lowered his hand to your side to hold your lovehandle, one of his favorite places to grip you as he worked himself deeper, pushing your leg back to force your hips up and allowing him to pierce your cervix. “Cariño, milk my cock. Take my cum with your snug cunt.” Your core kept vibrating, then began to quake as you started dripping faster, then with your climax you gushed, spilling onto the couch, your thighs Frankie’s thighs, and his sweatpants. Your back arched as Frankie kept thrusting into you as you squeezed him, within a few more pumps her spilled into you, the warmth, making your twist your hips to help it spread. Frankie’s forehead hit your chest, he rubbed your side where he was holding, kneading your tissue. “Don’t make we worry like that again amor. I was worried sick.”

Your laugh was breathy, an arm wrapped around his back, and you kissed the top of his head. “I think I should make you worry more Francisco. That was amazing.” His mouth twisted to the side and to used his lips to surround one of your nipples and bit it, “Shit Frankie! Don’t bite that hard.”

“Cariño, you don’t have to make me worried to get fucked like this when you want to. All you had to is ask bebita.” His sweet grin returned as he remained inside you flacid. “In fact, you need to make sure you call if you wanna get this kind of treatment again. Don’t forget, I love you.”

Tag list (forgot to put this in the first time 😭):

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @modernperplexity @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @beabliss @alwaysmicado @daddy-dins-girl

[raspberrybesitos]

birthday girl | frankie morales x plus size latina reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: It’s your birthday, and Frankie celebrates his favorite girl.

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all!!!), oral (f receiving), fluff, pet names (princesa, bebita, querida, hermosa, baby, etc), Frankie being in love, slightest hint of insecure reader, reader is female, reader is plus sized, reader is Latina, but no mention of hair type/skin color/height, reader understands Spanish, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at the end.

A/N: it’s my birthday meaning this is completely 100% self-indulgent lol no other reason behind this. i wrote it with me (a plus size latina) in mind, but i hope you can still find relatability in it! y’all know Frankie is one of my favorite P boys, and i’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. shoutout to @mandoisapunk for hyping me up to post this one ilysm <333 anyway, happy frankie friday!! i hope y’all enjoy!! i’m off to pamper myself, then get plastered at the club 🪩💃 this was written very quickly. not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Daylight peeks through the blinds, bleeding through the curtains. A gloomy morning, typical around this time of year. Stirring in the sheets, you feel around for your boyfriend. Instead, you’re met with cold sheets on his unmade side of the bed.

He must’ve been up a while ago.

You swipe your phone from your nightstand, catching a glimpse at the time while unlocking it.

10am. He’s definitely been up for a while.

Frankie is an early riser, waking with the sun. While you prefer to sleep in as much as you can, being a night owl and borderline insomniac.

Rubbing your eyes, you scroll and respond to the birthday texts you received throughout your sleep. A few missed calls, you make note to call them back later.

Sitting up, you stretch and let out a yawn. The urge to crawl back under the covers grows strong as the chilly air hits your skin. Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you hear those unmistakable footsteps.

The door gently swings open, there stands your Frankie - beaming with a tray in hand.

“Happy birthday, hermosa,” he says through his dopey grin as he walks towards the bed, balancing your breakfast. You let out a soft hum, touched by the sweet gesture.

“Babyyy, you didn’t.”

“But I did. And I don’t want to hear any complaints, it’s your day, let me spoil you.”

“But you always sp-,”

“Ah ah! Let me spoil you, bebita. It’s what you deserve. I even made your favorite,” he says, setting the tray down in front of you. A tiny gasp bubbles over your lips.

“Frankieeee,” you whine, bottom lip jutted out as tears well in your eyes.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but not one you make too often with how time consuming it can be. Your favorite childhood breakfast - chorizo con huevo y frijoles and homemade tortillas - one your abuelita would cook on the mornings you went to her house as a little girl.

You’d told him about it one morning when he found you downstairs making tortillas from scratch to go with breakfast. A labor of love from both of you, as you taught him the same way your abuelita had shown you - a way to honor her legacy.

He remembered.

“You remembered,” you whisper, voice wobbly as you’re overwhelmed with the simple, sweet gesture. Glossy eyes meeting his soft gaze.

“Of course, baby. I remember everything you tell me,” he says, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How did you make the tortillas?” you ask.

He chuckles, sitting down beside you.

“I told you, I remember everything you tell me,” he says while fishing out a crumpled up index card and placing it in your hands. It’s got all your abuelita’s instructions, measurements, and ingredients scribbled on it in his chicken scratch.

He’d written everything down.

“Wrote it all down after that morning. It took some trial and error, and they’re nowhere near as perfect as yours and your abuelita’s, but…”

“I- Frankie…” you sigh, tears pricking your eyes as you’re nearly rendered speechless. Cupping his face softly in one hand.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you,” you sniff, a stray tear cascading down your cheek as you smile at him through watery eyes.

He swipes his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your tear.

“Of course, baby.”

You capture his lips in a languid, sweet kiss. Sighing into each other as you wrap a hand around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair. Frankie cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Parting for air, he rests his forehead against yours - toothy grins adorning your faces.

“Come on, princesa. Eat before it gets cold.”

The two of you share breakfast in bed before getting ready for the day.

Frankie spends the rest of the day spoiling you - taking you to a surprise nail appointment he’d booked. He’d headed home unbeknownst to you, setting up something else.

He picked you up, and the two of you landed in Barnes & Noble. Letting you go rampant, Frankie bought every book you wanted. He’d tucked them away safely in his trunk, reminding himself to take them out in the morning. You’d both decided to grab some dinner before heading out to the bars with some friends.

The bars are loud, particularly this karaoke bar. Although he despises karaoke, his love for you trumps his disdain. Seeing you sing your heart out on stage with your friends - the people who always show up for you - makes his heart swell. Your happiness is his.

Frankie nurses a glass of whiskey the entire night, allowing you to have your fun with everyone. He can sense your exhaustion, your telltale yawn is his silent cue that it’s time to call it a night.

Bidding everyone good night, you and Frankie walk hand-in-hand to his truck. Heading home after a day well spent. Giddiness radiating from both of you on the drive home, excited to finally have some privacy.

You two could barely keep your hands off each other the second you stepped out of the truck. Both of you stumble into the house, giggling through the tender kisses. Frankie tosses the truck keys onto the table in the foyer and flicks on the lamp before cupping your face again. Both of you refuse to part for air as he attempts to stealthily guide you into the living room.

Something brushes against your head, making you break away and whip your head around. A soft gasp is punched from your lungs, your eyes glimmering at the sight in front of you.

Balloons hang throughout the living room leading into the kitchen as a bouquet of flowers sits on the coffee table. Frankie grabs your hand, pulling you out of your trance, weaving through the trail of balloons as he leads you into the kitchen. Tears well in your eyes at the gesture. A small cake in your favorite color sits on the table, next to a card and another vase of flowers - tulips specifically, your favorite flowers.

He fishes for a lighter in his pocket, showing you how prepared he was for this moment. Lighting the candles, he pulls you into his embrace, your back flushed against his chest.

“Surprise, princesa,” he whispers. A watery chuckle bubbles from within your chest, sniffling while he softly sings his own rendition of ‘happy birthday’ in your ear as he sways you side to side. The glow from the candles illuminating the blinding smile on your face.

“Make a wish, birthday girl,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss to the shell of your ear.

You close your eyes, wishing for this love, this life with him for eternity. Leaning forward slightly, you blow out the candles before falling back into Frankie’s arms. He gives you a gentle squeeze before turning you around to face him.

Gently kissing you, you yelp in surprise when he swipes frosting on your nose.

“Couldn’t resist, sorry, bebita. Que le muerda,” he says with a wink. Playfully scolding him, you reach behind you to scoop frosting on your fingers and smear it on his cheek.

Frankie smirks, “Oh you think that’s funny?” You nod, snickering as you lick your fingers. He reaches for the cake, gathering more frosting on his fingers. Smearing it all along your lips and chin, you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Normally, you hate the tradition of taking a bite of the cake - it usually leads to having your whole face smashed into it, makeup ruined. But with Frankie, it’s not done with malice, not done to embarass you. It’s playful, fun - like the life you’ve built with each other.

Before you can retaliate, Frankie swoops in and slots your lips together. The sugar from the frosting combined with the glass of whiskey he had at the bar makes for a full-bodied kiss. Giggling like a pair of school kids, you and Frankie clean each other up with some paper towels.

"You missed a spot, bebita," he says, gesturing to the bottom of your lip.

"Oh!" You swipe your lip. "Did I get it?"

He grins. "Almost. Let me help you, hermosa," he says before crashing his lips onto yours.

Shared laughter resumes as he guides you into the living room, never letting your lips part. He accidentally bumps into the coffee table as he moves onto the couch. He smiles into the kiss as you laugh at his clumsiness. He plops down, grabbing your hips and tugging you onto his lap.

His large, rough hands squeezing your plush thighs before giving your ass a firm squeeze. Eliciting a surprised hum from you, you part from him with heavy eyes and a dopey smile. Frankie mirroring your expression.

“You have a good day today, baby?” He asks softly, timidly awaiting your answer.

You fervently nod. “The best. Thank you so much, baby - for this, for everything.” You say, gesturing to his hard work.

“Of course, bebita. Least I could do,” he rasps against your skin, littering kisses along your neck. A content sigh leaves your lips, basking in the love he showers you in daily.

“Baby?”

He hums in response.

“When did you find the time to even do all this?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair as you straddle him, his lips still connected to your throat. He lifts his head, locking eyes with you.

“Did it all this afternoon while you got your nails done. I bought all the balloons and blew ‘em up on my lunch break yesterday and just kept ‘em all at work. The flowers, I went right after I dropped you off at your appointment to get them before I went to pick up the balloons and your cake from my fridge at work. Knew I could surprise you one day,” he explains with a wink.

You feel your heart grow 10 sizes bigger, a swarm of butterflies flutter throughout your tummy.

He’d done all this for you.

Tears sting your eyes again, a soft smile on your face - one only reserved for him.

“Frankie,” you whine in protest, your gaze shifting to the side as guilt floods you.

As if he can read your mind, Frankie grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Uh uh. I don’t want to hear it. I wanted to do this for you. It’s your special day. Now I know this day isn’t the easiest for you, but I want to make it easy. I want to make everyday easy, the same way you make loving easy. You deserve the whole world and more. And I’ll work everyday to give it to you. Let me celebrate my favorite day, my perfect girl. Because on this day those years ago, the world got brighter. And 2 years ago, my world did too.”

Overwhelmed by his devotion, you shamelessly let your tears fall. Love seeping from your eyes and onto your cheeks, Frankie draws you in gently. Kissing you with such tenderness, cradling your face as if you were the most delicate diamond in the universe, your cheeks wetting his. He pulls back, swiping those tears, mirroring each other's small smiles.

“I love you, bebita,” he says, his voice hushed and husky.

“I love you too, Frankie. Thank you for today, for all of this, baby. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had, all thanks to you. You always make me feel so loved, and I hope you know just how much I love you. Eres el amor de mi vida,” you choke out.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything and everything for you, princesa. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I do know how much you love me, you show me everyday, bebita. I’ve got you, baby. Always. Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. Eres mi todo. Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita,” he whispers against your lips.

Melding your lips together, your combined hums ring in the air as you vehemently consume one another.

He shifts his grip to your thighs, tightening his hold on you as he rises to his feet.

“Frankie, stop! I’m too heavy, you’re gonna hurt your back!” You yelp as he carries you up the stairs, the whispers of insecurity creep into your head.

“Hush, bebita. My back is fine. I’ve never thrown it out any of those other times I carried you before, and I’m not about to start now. You’re never too heavy. ‘Sides, how many times have I tossed your sexy ass around in bed? Hm?” He asks as he turns the corner, leading you to your shared room.

He immediately rids your mind of any insecurities as he’s met with your silence. Bashfulness coursing through your veins as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck..

“Exactly. That's what I thought,” he says as he kicks the door open, tossing you onto the bed. You yelp as you bounce in the air, Frankie’s pupils dilate - blown black and wide.

Your head resting on a pillow with dress ridden up your thighs, exposing your panties to him as your breasts nearly spill over the low neckline.

He pulls your shoes off, his following suit as tosses them off to the side. Snaking his hands up your thighs, he grabs the hem of your tights.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he warns before yanking them down, tearing them in the process. It’s unbelievably feral, how swiftly he ripped the tights in two. You gasp as another wave of arousal pools in between your thighs.

He hovers over you, hands trailing up your tummy and cupping your breasts. He captures your lips in his, patience thrown to the wind as his tongue invades your mouth. Sucking in your bottom lip between his teeth, you moan as he bites down. The slight sting only sending more slick to seep from your weeping cunt.

You eagerly fumble with the hem of his shirt as you moan into his mouth. His chest rumbles with a small chuckle, before parting from your lips. He quickly yanks it over his head and tosses it to the floor, refocusing on your lips.

He snakes his hands down to your waist where your dress is bunched up. Slowly raking it up your body, you lift yourself up so he can pull it off you. Frankie licks his lips. He knew you’d been wearing one of his favorite lacy bras, but it’s such a sight for him every time.

Sloppy kisses are exchanged while he slickly maneuvers to unhook your bra, lifting you slightly and discarding it on the floor. He kisses down your bare breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth while he fiddles with his belt. Frankie releases your nipple with a lewd pop and shucks off his jeans and briefs, his hard cock throbbing.

Both of you bared naked, on display for each other.

“So fucking beautiful, baby. The most beautiful woman on Earth,” he rasps, nearly to himself.

Heat radiates throughout your body, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and a fire simmering in your belly as he slides down to position himself in front of your bare sex.

Frankie insatiably licks his lips, feasting his eyes on your glistening folds. As if he’s about to devour the finest meal. He peppers kisses along your soft thighs, making you twitch under his grasp.

Your clit throbs, aching for attention. Whining, your hips buck up into his face as he presses a tender kiss to your mound.

“I got you, bebita,” he whispers against your core. He dives in, tongue licking languid stripes up your folds. Frankie groans at the taste, something he’ll never get enough of.

Flicking your clit combined with the vibrations of his groans draws out a high-pitched moan from you, your head sinking further into the pillow. His tongue prods your entrance, slurping up your slick.

“S-so fucking good, Frankie. A-always so f-fucking good to me,” you keen as the flames in your belly fan into a fully-fledged fire. Panting and whimpering, you squirm beneath his hold as he relentlessly flicks your pearl.

He grips your thighs tighter as he suckles your clit between his lips, humming into you. Stars burst behind your eyes as you're engulfed by your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, Frankie! I’m gonna-,”

You're cut off by a never-ending stream of moans, babbling incoherently about how good Frankie is. Tugging on his hair as you fall over the edge.

He lets out an animalistic groan as he laps at your slick, slurping up every last drop. Savoring the tangy sweetness seeping from your aching cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste. He takes great pleasure in getting you off.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body, glistening in the warm glow of the room. Frankie presses a chaste kiss to your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before towering over you.

Your eyes heavy and glossed over with bliss. Whimpering into him as he presses his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Sweeter than any fucking cake, bebita,” he jokes, getting a giggle out of you. You bring him down to meet your lips again. Humming as you feel his hard length graze against your bare sex.

Precum weeps from his tip, lightly smearing on your mound. A soft moan slips from you as Frankie lines his cock up with your pussy. He swirls the tip around your mound, gathering your slick on his cock as he teasingly prods your entrance.

“Frankieee, please. Need you inside me,” you whine, rutting your hips seeking relief.

“Relax, hermosa. Like I said, I got you.”

He slowly slips inside, your dripping pussy welcoming him in with ease. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. Moaning in tandem as he slides home, bottoming out. He’s so big, he’s already kissing your cervix.

You clench around him, panting as the sting from the stretch of his cock morphs into pleasure. Frankie lets out a moan, huffing as he tries to keep his composure.

“Don’t do that, baby. Or else it’ll be over before it even started,” he grunts above you.

“Then how about you fuck me, Morales? ‘S my birthday, I want you - need you, baby,” you whine.

“Oh I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Gonna have you fucking stumbling all over the place after this,” he slurs, nearly drunk on just being inside your warm walls.

Without preamble, he swiftly draws his hips back before slamming into you. You unabashedly scream, not caring that your neighbors will probably hear you.

Your noises drive Frankie wild, spurring him on to bring you to your orgasm. His pace picks up, unrelenting as he cants his hips into yours - pushing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust as he hovers above you.

His chest brushes against yours as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Feel good, bebita? Huh? Feel me here, in your stomach?” He taunts, pressing down on your stomach as he punches your g-spot. The added pressure makes the coil in your belly tighten, burning white hot as he fucks in and out of you.

“Answer me, baby,” he growls against your lips, the angle he’s at hitting that spot just right.

“Y-Yes, Frankie! Feels s-sooo fucking g-good! Gonna feel you for d-days,” you shriek, hiccupping as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Squeezing around him as your second orgasm rapidly approaches.

“That’s right, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking tight. I could live between these fucking thighs. Like you were made for me,” he babbles, moaning as you clench around him.

“Made for you, Frankie. Only you,” you whisper, the air being punched from your lungs with every thrust.

“Cum for me, bebita. Dámelo, wanna see your gorgeous face when you soak my cock. Come on, baby,” he grunts, holding out on his orgasm - set on making you cum first.

His words toss you over the edge. The coil snapping in your belly as you writhe beneath him, riding out your orgasm, gushing all over his cock.

“Fuck yes, bebita. Good girl, good fucking girl,” Frankie grits as he continues to fuck you through your high. His own orgasm not far behind.

“Cum, Frankie, f-fill me up, baby, please!” You beg breathlessly as you come down from your high.

He moans, chasing his high as he ruts into you. Moaning in tandem as he fills you with his load. Both of you sticky and clammy, covered in sweat and cum. He topples over you, caging you in between his broad biceps.

Small lingering kisses trail along your neck as you bask in each other's proximity and warmth. The post-coital bliss sinking in. You wrap your arms around his taut back, running your fingers through his disheveled curls.

“Love you so much, Frankie," you whisper into his ear.

“Love you so much more, princesa."

Translations:

Que le muerda - bite it

Eres el amor de mi vida - you are the love of my life

Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. - you are my love, my light, my light, my moon and all my stars. You are my everything

Eres mi todo - you are my everything

Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita - I love you so much, with all my heart, baby girl.

Dámelo - give it to me

hehehehe can you tell Frankie is rotting my brain?

this was definitely my most vulnerable piece yet, as it contains aspects authentic to me so i was very nervy to post. like i said, i hope you found some relatability, and enjoyed!

anyway, happy frankie friday!! thank you so much for reading!! 🩷

tag list: @nostalxgic @sweetercalypso @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @tinygarbage @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[tieronecrush]

BNBG (brand new baby girl)

frankie morales x curvy OF/cam girl f!reader

summary: frankie has been needing distractions from a hurdle in his sobriety, so he ventures to his frequented subscription service platform to take his mind off things. he sees the title of your page, intrigued immediately, and dives deep into your content. catching your attention on a livestream with his confident commands, frankie becomes infatuated with you and an avid viewer before he decides to DM you one day...and then ends up with a brand new baby girl.

wc: 11k

rating: E (very)

warnings: daddy kink!! **cover does not depict anything about the reader, simply vibes of softness**, vague descriptions of reader's body (plush, thick, curves, soft, etc. no definite descriptors used otherwise. picture her as you want but she is mid to plus size in my head 🫶), no age specified (only that reader started out of college, no specifications of when she went to school), discussions of addiction & drug use, childless frankie au, sex work, sex livestream, consumption of porn, unestablished relationship, online relationship, pet names (conejita, baby, babygirl, pequeña, bunny, etc.), gratuitous descriptions of frankie's dick, SMUT, male masturbation, female masterbation, sex toys, both frankie & reader have thoughts about the other (unprotected piv, fingering, oral, etc.), major dirty talk, d/s dynamics, some fluff sprinkled in <3, this might be lowkey problematic that frankie uses porn to cope (esp reader's porn) buuuuut hopefully it's hot

a/n: cover design & dividers by me 💋 this is an unhinged daydream of mine, hope y'all enjoy! huge thank you to my besties @kiwisbell and @northernbluess for beta-reading 💓

The time on Frankie’s phone screen turns over to well past midnight. Bedroom pitched black save for the blue light illuminating his face as he scrolls on Instagram, unable to fall asleep from thoughts stirring. He wants to scratch the itch — to pick at the scab that’s been growing in his brain for over a year. Temptation runs hot in his veins. A craving, deep in his gut. A strong inhale or the rub of his fingertip against his gums. It would be fast.  And it would only last less than half an hour — he could manage it one more time, he was sober enough for that, wasn’t he? He indulges himself in other aspects now: drinking, food, lax with his once regimented workout routine.

Frankie can hear the voice of his sponsor, the one he listens to speak at his weekly meetings in the musty church hall. Sure, his sponsor’s got valuable advice for him, having been sober for decades now, but he can’t relate to Frankie. Not really. He doesn’t know the level of temptation he’s consistently faced with, doesn’t know the fucked up shit he’s seen that got him into the substance in the first place.

His sponsor tells him to get into meditation. That it helps him turn his brain off when he has a craving, redirecting the energy into himself and crushing the aching want for it. Or some spiritual bullshit that Frankie doesn’t understand.

And besides, he’s found his own means of meditation.

Exiting the social media app, he opens his browser and types in the website. The light of the phone illuminates his face enough for his saved login to work, bringing him into his plane of piety. Where he escapes at least three times a week, late nights like now and the occasional mid-afternoon or morning on his desperate days off. When the urge is too strong. When he’s formulating a plan of how to get his hands on a tiny baggie, he loses himself — distracts his brain here.

Scrolling through his usual subscriptions, nothing seems to be hitting the spot. One hand grips his phone, thumb gliding along the screen, while the other cups his hard-on through his boxers, palming himself as he searches for something to get off to.

That’s when he sees it — the perfect combination of words that draws him in by the title. Clicking the page, he’s quick to pledge his monthly amount, eager to get access to all that lies beyond the paywall. And what he’s greeted with, pulls a sigh from his lips in the quiet room, his large hand squeezing his cock through the thin fabric elasticated around his waist. 

“Fuck…” he mumbles to himself when he sees that there’s a live stream happening. A cosmic intervention for him, he thinks, a sign that he’s meant to satiate his vices with this.

With you.

The screen changes to a vertical view of you in front of the camera, iPhone seemingly propped up against something while you sit on your mattress. It’s so…delicate and soft. Those are the words he can think of to describe the backdrop that he takes in quickly. Billowing white comforter on your bed, pillows surrounding you. The first thought he has is that it looks like a bed he could easily sleep in — much more inviting than his. There are touches of blush pink, sky blue, and more. A complete rainbow of desaturated colors.

It all compliments you. Centered in the frame, the next sound you make drags his eyes back to your form as you move around. Another squeeze to his cock draws a longer sigh from his lips as he combs across the view of your body, scantily clad in a thong and a bra covered in cherries. The cups of the bra push up the weight of your breasts, spilling over the edge. His tongue runs across his lips to wet them, a new craving ravaging his mouth as he wonders what you would taste like with the skin of your tits dampened by his saliva.

The rest of your body is as softly lined and curving as your chest, waist swooping into your hips as you sit on your knees in front of the camera. Thick thighs spread with the press of your calves into the back of them, the inside of them meeting at the apex and providing cover for what he so badly wants to be shown. There’s a line of your stomach above the waist of your panties, supple skin glistening. Delicious, is all he can think to himself. You look so fucking delicious that it floods his mouth with saliva, enough that he feels the overwhelming need to push his boxers down, freeing his hard cock to rest against his stomach until he’s spitting into his palm and starting a slow, languid pace.

The grain of his palm drags against the length of his cock as he keeps a steady flick of his wrist. Not too fast, but not achingly slow. Enough to start stoking the burning coals in the pit of his stomach as he watches you on the small rectangular screen. Puffs of hot air leave his mouth, his jaw hanging open while he watches you shift to reach for something out of frame, the first look at your ass gifted to him. Rounded swell of curves with the fabric of your thong dipping between them. The slight jiggle of your cheeks makes Frankie moan quietly, taking the briefest moment to picture that same ripple in your skin from him fucking you from behind.

“Shit…” he grumbles under his breath, minorly increasing the pressure of his grip to squeeze his cock as his hand moves, desperate to mimic the feeling of someone — apparently you, despite not knowing anything close to your name.

Skin on skin catches on the base of his dick and he exhales sharply with his teeth bared, opening his palm to spit once again. It’s not enough, but he continues the slide of his wrist as he sets his phone down on the mattress briefly, reaching over to his nightstand, pausing once again to dispense a pump of lotion into the palm of his right hand. Wrapping the moistened hand around his cock again, he starts a faster pace before slowing down to drag out his pleasure longer.

Returning into the frame fully, he sees your face for the first time and coughs as his open-mouthed inhale seizes in his throat. His fingers circle the base of his cock, squeezing hard as he takes in your face. Perfectly primped with a layer of makeup, but he can tell you’ve got the kind of beauty that wouldn’t ever need changing or enhancing — effortless. Velvety skin, as silky as the rest of your body but with an added glow. Bright eyes that are shining with mischief and want, and a smirk that’s as playful; he finds himself shutting his eyes again, for a few lazy strokes as he pictures that face, and your plush, pliable body, on your knees in front of him. Eagerly awaiting his cock to fill your mouth.

Fuck, you’re really doing a number on him tonight. He needed this. His desperation for a high of any kind coats his open mouth with each labored breath.

Focused back on his phone, you show off the treasure that you dug for off-camera. A lilac vibrator, one that fits the length of your hand, with a swell of size rounded off at the tip and tapered in at the end. Leaning closer to your camera, Frankie groans when your tits bounce, spilling out of your bra with a tiny nip slip that he catches immediately. And it only makes him want to see more.

“Mm, c’mon, pretty girl, show me something here. M’fuckin’ dying…Necesito la distracción (I need the distraction),” Frankie speaks toward the screen, feeling pathetic as he barters with you in the one-way system.

As if you heard his pleas, you adjust your position, laying back on the mountain of pillows to prop yourself up and letting one leg fall open. Even in the lowered lighting of the room you’re in, presumably your bedroom, he can make out the wet patch covering your folds. He finds himself wondering if the act of getting off in front of a camera, in front of people watching live, is what gets you wet. Or if you have a fluffer like he’s heard they do in porn.

He’d wanna be your fluffer.

Or maybe he’d want to be the one to fuck you in the porno. At least both of you’d get to finish then.

“Think I need someone who knows better than me to tell me what they wanna see.” Your voice is saccharine, the slight fry in your voice jolts his hips into his hand, mumbles of curses slipping from his lips. “Anybody have any suggestions for me, chat?”

A low hum starts when you press the button of the vibrator in your hand, spreading your knees further to open your core to the view of the camera completely. Your opposite hand to the toy hooks into the crotch of your thong, pulling the small bit of fabric, practically a string with the amount it’s covering.

Frankie’s mouth waters as the speed of his hand picks up, the grip of his fingers not nearly as satisfying as the clench of a pussy, but he’ll make do. He has been for a year; you know what they say, no relationships for the first year sober. That, and he couldn’t find anyone that could take his mind off of coke long enough for him to get it up. So eventually he just let it be.

Now, though, he’s painfully hard. The quick movements of his hand send a shock of pleasure up to his brain, veins contracting with the extra effort to keep the blood supply to his cock. Thumb brushes over his tip, mixing in his precum with the other lubrication, a hiss from behind his teeth shot out from the stimulation. His gaze is glued onto his rectangular screen, huffing out deep breaths while you press the vibrator against your clit. There’s a quiver in your thighs that he notices, as if this is your first touch after teasing yourself, or someone else teasing you. Sensitive already.

Biting your lip, your eyes scan the screen as you read aloud, “FiveFingersAtFreddys said ‘Take your bra off please.’ Well, actually he said ‘Take your tits out’ but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, dude, and say that you actually do have good manners.”

He laughs, and it’s a first for him. Laughing at someone’s jokes as he jerks off, alone.

You comply with the request, taking the vibrator away from your clit to reach around and unclasp your bra. Tossing the material aside, you lean back into the pillows again and the next sight nearly makes Frankie come right then and there until he takes his hand away completely. Laid out, legs open and fingers pulling your panties aside, vibrator pushing into your clit and driving a high-pitched moan from your lips. All while you're bare from the waist up, cushioned torso melting into your heavy tits, pert nipples bringing them to a point. The form of a Greek classics statue, one with fleshy outlines carved impeccably from marble.

“La obra maestra (A masterpiece)…” Frankie whispers to himself, the squelch of his lotioned hand working his hard length bringing him back into his body, a moan slipping from his mouth.

“I think I need someone else to tell me how I should play with myself. M’so wet, jus’ wanna touch myself but I don’t know where to start. All seems like—like it’s going to feel so good,” you stutter out when your hips buck against the vibrator, a whimper echoing from your chest as you turn your attention to the chat again, awaiting intriguing instructions.

Maybe it’s sexual frustration, maybe it’s pathetic. Maybe it’s the intense fucking craving to replace his need for coke high with a need for an orgasm, but for whatever reason chosen, Frankie finds himself clicking on the comment box with his thumb, typing wildly with one finger. He takes a second to read it for spelling errors before he presses send. Too lost in it all now to care.

Your eyes perk up, smirk growing on your face when you read the influx of chat replies. One must have caught your eye because the vibrator is being left to the side again. Fingers hook into the waist of your panties, slowly pulling them off as you read aloud the comment that caught your attention.

“There’s a new name I see here…Maybe we should do what you want, Mr. FlyingFish. Consider it a welcome gift from me to you.” His heart is pounding in his chest, hand gripping tighter and twisting around his dick as he fucks his fist, mumbles of curses spilling out as he listens to you repeat what he desperately typed not a minute prior. It sounds dirtier coming from you, despite his best efforts at politeness, “You said ‘Please show off how many of your little fingers fit into your pretty pussy. Think a pretty girl like you deserves to fuck her fingers…’ Alright, FlyingFish, you’ve got me blushin’ from that request and that is difficult to do, sir. Thank you for calling me a pretty girl. I promise I’m smart, too. I’ll be sure to count ‘em for you.”

One finger slips into your dripping entrance easily, the other hand reaching for the vibrator and replacing it at your clit while your finger starts to fuck shallowly, “One finger…”

Whines of frustration crack over his small speakers before a bigger moan falls from your lips, a second finger slid into you alongside the first, “Oh, fuck…That’s two. Mm, how am I doin’? FlyingFish, d’you think I can get another?”

Frankie’s wrist flicks rapidly now, the direct address to him driving him mad as the sounds of his arm slapping against his stomach and thigh clap in his room and cut into the sounds your pussy is making as you get yourself off. He types as quickly as he can, strings of curses flowing from his mouth as the heat of his desire burns red hot inside of him. He’s so fucking close but he wants to watch you fall apart at the same time. Wants to be the reason you come.

“Oh, shit—you’ve got a mouth, FlyingFish. ‘I’d hope you can take another, otherwise, you couldn’t take my cock.’ Is that a promise, Fish? You saying you got a big dick for me to take?” 

You whimper and he’s edging himself, squeezing hard to stay together when you inadvertently use his call sign. The closest thing you have to his name, and all he can think about is you screaming it while he’s fucking you. He wants to tell you it’s a promise only if you follow through, indulging in the fantasy of actually getting to touch you only for a moment. But instead, his attention is completely drawn to a third finger stretching your cunt in full view of the camera, your wanton moans popping in his speakers and driving his forearm to burn with the strain of muscle as he attempts to fist his cock even harder.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Come for me, baby, please fucking come on those fingers,” he begs no one but himself, a blinding white heat licking the entire inside of his body as he balances on the edge. Waiting for you to fall first.

“Oh my god, fuck…” The last word is drawn out, pitching up at the end as your fingers fuck faster, squelching sounds of your wetness flooding his mouth as his brain pleads for a taste of your cunt. “I don’t think—I don’t think I can get a fourth. M’gonna fucking come—ah! Oh, fuck me, Fish…”

You barely whisper his name, or at least what is his name to you, but it’s singlehandedly what punches out his guttural moan, ropes of warm, sticking spend coating his hand as he keeps moving and spilling onto his stomach. It’s prolonged, the tension in his calves relaxing after he spills the most come he has in a while.

Airy, light, a rush of blood back to his head has his whole body tingling with a high. Satiating his cravings from earlier, dissolving the want, the need, for anything of the sort. Instead, it’s replaced with thoughts of you — the image of you laying fucked out on his phone, adding his own touch of imagination when he closes his eyes to see you as you are but covered with his come the same way he is. Normally, this is when the smallest bit of shame crawls up his spine and sits at the nape of his neck, but instead, he melts into warmth. Faced with your smile as you sit up and lean over toward the camera again, laughing to yourself as you end the live.

“Um, if you’re still here, thanks for that FlyingFish. Felt fucking good…And to everyone else, I’ll stream again on Monday night, same time as always. Night, everyone. Have a good weekend.” All he hears before the sound cuts out is your excited giggles, the brightness of your post-orgasm joy stretching a smile across your face. He’s faced with a black screen, staring back at himself in the reflection with the shit-eating, smug grin he has on his face.

Now he’s got plans for Monday night.

Frankie hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. He’s hooked. Images of your sloping curves flash behind his eyes on the days when you’re not available to watch, his hips fucking his fist in bed, the shower, even on his couch with the blinds all open because he was that needy. Thoughts of you replaced his thoughts of the white powder, chasing after the different high he’s gifted by your voice, your body — all through a screen.

He’s caught himself rasping affections as he pictures you, hissed compliments as he comes and imagining what he’d say if you were in front of him. Letting him use your mouth or your cunt. He’s even gotten into a habit of imagining his head between your legs; the hardest he came is the one time he pictured you sitting on his face and all of the pretty sounds you’d make for him. Fuck, cariño, that’s so good. Mm, bonita, you’re such a good girl. Love doin’ what you’re told, don’t you, baby?

The fact that he doesn’t even know your name but is this infatuated isn’t lost on him. He knows he has an addictive personality, but this feels different. Like he was meant to find you for some reason. His sponsor would tell him it’s a call from the universe that this is all part of his ‘journey to sobriety’, but really, he just thinks that you’re fucking hot. And the tiniest part of him thinks you might like him watching too, even though you have no idea who he is.

Each time he watches you live, his thumb taps across the keyboard, responding to your requests and even adding in some encouragement. Virtually having conversations with you, he quickly became a frequent flyer (your joke, not his). You listen to him. Like the sweet girl that you are. Taking his suggestions — his demands when you beg — and showing off for him, a whimpering mess when he’s done with you.

At times, it feels like he’s the only one watching, or at least the only one that matters to you. With the amount of times his username falls from your lips, it’s easy to fall into a bubble of you and him. You’ve picked up the habit of referring to him as ‘Fish’ and it’s driven him mad, the closest thing to his name that he’ll hear you say. You give him material to think back about for days after. I love a man that knows what he wants, Fish. You can boss me around, Fishie. I always know what you tell me to do is gonna feel so fucking good.

All of this over the last few weeks has built up his courage, which is why he finds himself sitting on his couch with your profile open, the sun barely set outside. A random baseball game plays on his TV, but his focus is completely on his phone, writing and deleting a DM to you about ten times.

It has to be right. Friendly, but not stalker-ish. Flirty, but not creepy. Commanding enough to get your attention among what he imagines are countless messages in your inbox.

After another good ten minutes drafting a message, his thumb hovers over the ‘Send’ button for a few seconds. Squeezing his eyes closed, he lowers his finger and hits the button, anxiety washing over him as he opens his eyes to stare at the blue bubble.

No going back now.

Standing at the stove, water boils over the side of the pot while you pour in the uncooked pasta noodles. A few drops hit your skin, mumbles of curses leaving your lips, “Fucking shit!”

You stir the pasta before reaching for the nearest kitchen towel to wipe the once-scalding water off of your hand. A deep sigh exhales, relaxing your shoulders as the ding of a notification draws your attention to your phone lying on the marble countertop next to you.

What you find on your lock screen sends a shock of excitement down your spine, the warmth of anticipation radiating around your body to tingle your fingers and toes.

[Direct Message:] FlyingFish

Quick to swipe up, the device unlocks with a scan of your face and opens a new notification when you click on it with your thumb. Subconsciously, your opposite thumb has ended up between your teeth, biting down on the skin as you hold back an eager grin while you wait for his message to load.

You’ve never had this reaction to a message before, actually, it was usually the opposite. Rolling your eyes, ignoring the men until the last moment. Only responding to keep them enticed and subscribed — all of which keeps more money in your pocket. That’s really why you started this whole thing anyway.

FlyingFish:

Hey

A puff of air exhales through your nose, a chuckle cutting the otherwise silent kitchen. Shaking your head to yourself, you can’t help but smile at your screen. Heartbeat fluttering, you internally kick yourself for having such a reaction to such a simple message. Not even knowing who this person is, you find yourself typing back a response.

Hey there Fish

Guess I never actually asked if I could call you that

You turn back to your task at hand, continuing to cook your dinner and attempting to put out of your mind all of your assumptions about this person messaging you. You’d guess it’s a guy, an educated inference based on the demographics of your audience, but everything else is a complete mystery. The one time he insinuated he had a big dick stuck in your mind, and based on his behavior, you’d like to assume he isn’t lying. An image of a man sticks out to you each time you whimper his nickname, on camera and that handful of times off camera and alone: tall, solid, and strong. Brunette, only because that’s your type. Rough hands and commanding touches. Someone to bend your stubborn will into submission. He’s confident, at least through the chat, and he seems to know what he’s talking about. Each time you see his username pop up, you can feel yourself start to get wetter. Since you started this whole gig, there hasn’t been anyone quite like him. It’s always people asking for more for them — Show us your tits. Say my name. Turn around so we can see your ass.

But with him, it’s the opposite. He asks for more for you, which you guess is what he gets off to, not that you mind. Bet one more finger would feel even better for you, baby. Curl your fingers, cariño. You reaching that special spot? Gotta get deeper for me, baby. Rub slower, drag it out. Promise it’ll be even sweeter at the end. 

Always polite but stern in his demands. Never too much, mostly not enough for your taste. He’s built up an appetite in you that you haven’t had before, a desire to please and to be good for him. All of it doesn’t feel like performing when he’s telling you what to do, it feels like he’s there, deep rasp in your ears as you picture thick fingers in place of yours and tight grips on your plush curves. Fingerprint-shaped bruises left behind and sore muscles in your thighs from holding yourself up as he asks you to come for him over and over and over.

A vibration against the hard surface of the countertop refocuses your gaze from a thousand yards away. Turning to grab your cell, you rub your thighs together in hopes of relenting the ache between them from your daydreams. Wet panties get caught in your folds, discomfort only momentary before you lean over the counter and open your legs, reading the mystery man’s response.

You can call me anything you want bonita

But I will tell you that Fish is pretty close to my name

Fish is close to your name?

What is it? Bass? Salmon? Trout?

Funny

Fish is short for Catfish which was my call sign with my Special Ops team

Ahhh a military man. You know I like a man in uniform

Oh really? :)

Don’t wear it anymore but does it still count if I was once a man in uniform?

Hmm

:( please?

I wanna be liked by you

Showing your cards there Fishie

Not trying to play it cool?

Once you get to know me baby you’ll come to find out that me and cool don’t really go together.

I doubt that’s true

So Catfish is your call sign? Who came up with that?

My buddies on my team

Said I couldn’t grow a beard for shit and that it looked like I had whiskers

So Catfish

Well I don’t wanna call you Fish if it’s mean like that :(

What’s your real name? If you wanna tell me

Are you gonna sell my identity and let someone tank my credit score?

Never

It wouldn’t benefit me much if your card gets declined every month

I appreciate the honesty baby haha

My name’s Frankie

I like your name Frankie :)

It’s nearly an hour of messaging back and forth, flirting intermingled with genuine curiosity about the other’s life, history and background. Frankie learns that you were struggling to find a job straight out of university and needed to make rent, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to try out selling content. You detailed briefly the time that you grew your following, telling him about your Instagram too, which he follows in that instant. The notification makes you laugh and you follow him back despite the profile being completely empty of any information besides his name. Not even a profile picture. He learns that you don’t speak much to your parents anymore, that your siblings live across the country so you don’t get to see them much.

He tells you about his family — no siblings, parents that live in another part of the state and refuse to visit him in the city — and his chosen family, the Special Ops guys. Laughter hiccups from your chest when he recalls a few of the better stories from them, telling you about each other them as if he was preparing you to actually meet them. He has that thought, briefly, about all of you out for drinks. How they would probably like you as much as he does; your charm and sincerity would hook them all just as it has for him. Frankie tells you all about his current hobby, fixing up an old, cherry red 1978 Jeep Cherokee. How the only other time he spends online is searching for car parts, watching Youtube as he works on the vehicle in his garage.

You make a cheeky comment that he must be good with his hands before sending another message immediately:

Would you wanna actually talk? Like on Facetime maybe

Frankie stares at the message, blinking slowly as if it will disappear. You’re asking to talk to him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I mean, if he knew that was an option he would have asked himself…

He wouldn’t and he knows he wouldn’t based on the way his stomach has dropped to his feet, his hands have gone clammy and his throat tightened. Swallowing hard, he whispers a small pep talk to himself to work up the nerve to say yes. He wants to see you, he always wants to see more of you, but the fact that you’d see him as well…he can’t cope.

Heat trickles across the back of his neck and up his cheeks, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as his brain completely wipes any thought to respond. Dropping his phone into his lap, both of his hands reach up, one grabbing the brim of his cap and lifting it from his head while the other runs through his hair to push it back away from his face. In the corner of his eye, he catches his left knee bouncing. Lips press together in a thin line, rolling the flesh between his teeth before he picks up his phone again and sends a message back to you with just his phone number.

Not even a minute later, his screen lights up with a list of digits strung together in an unfamiliar order. As if it were possible, he felt his stomach drop lower than his feet, deep into the ground below and burrowing away along with his confidence.

Shit, this was a stupid idea. He’s going to make a fool of himself and you’ll lose interest and he’ll have to think about you every day for the rest of his life and wonder what you’re doing, how you’re doing, even what your name is—

Fuck, he’s gonna miss the call.

Frankie decides that it is much more embarrassing to miss the call he just sent his phone number for than to potentially come off as uncool, so his finger swipes to the right to answer. Quickly, he turns off his camera before you notice, opting for the level of anonymity to remain.

“Hi, Frankie…” Your candied voice drips with sweetness around his name. He’s been imagining you saying it, trying to get it right in his mind over the past few weeks, but hearing it now he relishes in the fact that none of them were right. None of them sounded like spun sugar, like it did just now.

You fill the frame from your shoulders up, the same bright smile on your face that he’s seen at the end of each live, after he’s had his fun with you, but looking completely different out of that context. It’s a bit shy, demure in the way you're resting in your bed against your pillows, t-shirt on and fresh-faced. You look beautiful. And it makes him feel a bit silly that you can’t see his reaction.

“Hey, bonita. M’sorry I don’t have my camera on, jus’ nervous. Didn’t want you to hang up right away gettin’ a look at this mug,” he says with self-deprecating laughter at the end, watching as your brows knit together with a pout on your lips.

“You don’t have to apologize, Frankie. M’happy to do whatever you’re comfortable with. Besides, if your voice gives me any indication of your looks, you’d probably be making me way more nervous.” Teeth bite into your bottom lip as you hold in a grin, a hand coming into view to nudge at your nose. He’s seen you do it a few times on live, whenever you’re waiting in anticipation. For him, he’d like to think.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he teases, the smirk playing at his face evident in his flirty tone.

“You jus’ sound…nice.”

“Nice? That’s all? Why would that make you nervous, baby?”

A sigh slips from your lips, rolling your head back as he hears the smallest whine from you. His cock jumps in his sweats, already half hard from the flirty back and forth in your messages.

“God, you’re going to be a problem with all those pet names,” you say exasperated. Frankie laughs at his screen, feeling like an idiot sitting here alone and smiling like a fool. You’re cute when you’re mad.

“You can tell me your name and I can use that instead?” he propositions, licking his lips as he awaits the piece of information he’s been chomping at the bit to have.

“No! I mean, I’ll tell you my name, but…I like the nicknames. Keep them. Please.” Your words scramble out and it makes him grin wider, witnessing you as nervous as he’s feeling. When you give him your name, he repeats it a few times, rolling it around in his mouth, tasting the syllables on his tongue. Delicate, floral, sweet but a slight tang. Smooth as it rolls across his vocal cords, soothing the rising heat he’s feeling with a refreshing chill. Like peaches and cream.

The two of you chat back and forth for a while, pride swelling in his chest when you laugh at his stupid jokes or give him a compliment, despite being none-the-wiser to his looks. He’s quick to make you blush with his comments, telling you how beautiful he thinks you are. And Frankie’s thanking himself for keeping his camera off, because at times during the call, his eyes drift to your chest, blatantly staring at your perked up nipples through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. It grows his hard on, the softness of your breasts bouncing around as you restlessly squirm during the call enticing him to picture getting his mouth on them. He’d guess you’d taste the same as your name.

The next time you move, he watches your chest again before a sight in the background catches his eye, drawing a chuckle from his mouth. A stuffed bunny lays next to you in your bed, messy with age and love. A soft pink color with a red ribbon tied around its neck, he finds the need to ask about it prodding in his mind.

“Is that who films everything for you?” he jokes, watching your face twist with confusion before looking to your side and bursting out in a laugh. Returning your eyes to the camera, you shake your head timidly.

“No, unfortunately he’s pretty limited to cuddling.”

“He? Didn’t know you had a man in your life, baby. Feels like we shouldn’t be talking like this in front of him.” The sound of your laughter quickens his pulse, the melody trilling in his ears with comfort.

“Well, I guess if you could offer me more than cuddling, he could be demoted.”

“I think I can offer more, Conejita.” Frankie watches as something akin to excitement, but burning brighter, flashes in your eyes. You sit up more, one eyebrow raising in challenge.

“What could you offer me, Frankie?” It’s a loaded question. He could be polite, steer the conversation away from where he so desperately wants it to go, to be a gentleman. It would be easy to make a joke, to get you both to move on.

But he always wants to see where this could go. You’re the one who wanted to talk on the phone in the first place. And he would never suggest anything to make you uncomfortable, and he thinks that you know that. It’s like what the two of you do in your lives — a conversation, a back and forth that may end up benefitting both of you.

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, Conejita. I’m a man of many talents.” The words are slick on his tongue, silvery with enticement.

“Hm…” you ponder out loud, tapping your index finger against your bottom lip before turning back to the camera, “Can you cook?”

“Decently. Can’t claim I’m a chef, but I feed myself. And m’pretty good at a grill and makin’ some of my mamá’s recipes. Insisted on teaching them to me so they didn’t end with her.”

Grinning warmly, he feels his heartbeat kick up against his chest, thumping hard at the sight of you giving him that look. “That’s so sweet that she taught you. You can teach me, then someone else in the world will know her recipes too.”

Christ, you’re so fucking adorable. He doesn’t know what he wants more in the moment: to keep talking and simply listen to your voice, or to flirt his way into something more.

“She might be a better teacher than me, baby. Would probably be over the moon if you asked to learn since she had to force me a bit,” he laughs along with your quiet giggle, taking a deep breath when you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Are you a good teacher of other things?”

“I’d like to think so. Haven’t I taught you new things already, Conejita?”

There goes his heartbeat when you look away from the camera, smirk lifting your cheekbones as your demeanor goes shy, shrugging your shoulders as you lay back again, shifting to get comfortable.

“You have…And now I’ve learned how sexy your voice is, too. I’ll be picturing everything you type now to be said in your voice.”

Frankie breathes out a chuckle, a heat burning the nap of his neck, trickling down his back. He feels the effects of his blood rushing below his belt, ever-so-slightly lightheaded as he quietly palms his bulge in his sweatpants.

“My voice is sexy?”

“Um, duh. Are you kidding me? You sound all…rugged and raspy and deep. Like you could manhandle me easily,” you admit your thoughts easily, and he sighs quietly at the thought of having you in front of him to throw around his bed and mold you into the positions he dreams of getting you into.

“No tienes ni idea de lo que haría contigo (You've got no idea what I would do with you)...” he mumbles under his breath, hearing a soft whimper from you. One of your arms is slung across your front, pressing your breast into the other and he can take a guess as to what your hand is up to. “You want some help, baby? I bet you’re jus’ feeling so needy, aren’t you? Listening to my voice got you that worked up?”

“Mhmm…I need it, Frankie…” Your voice has the edge of a whine and he exhales slowly as he hears you beg for him. Not his call sign or a username. His name. Him. There’s no one else who’s making you feel this way, no one else striving for attention.

He pushes his pants down, pulling his hard cock out to start slowly stroking. You’ve left him aching, dripping precum that his fingers smear around his length to lubricate as he moves up and down in a teasing pace.

“Use your manners, Conejita. What d’you say?”

“Please. Please, Frankie. I wanna hear your voice, I want you to tell me what to do.” He hisses from behind his teeth as he squeezes his cock at the base, leaning his head back against his headboard before his focus zeroes in on you on his screen, asking for his guidance, his control to get you off. No one else privy to the sights he’s seeing.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me, baby. Why don’t you take off your shirt for me? Let me see you, bonita.” Wetting his lips with his tongue when you move to prop your phone up on your mattress, an expert at framing yourself perfectly. The thin, worn fabric of your sleep shirt slips over your head, leaving you on full display for him — already pantyless. Whether you started the call with any on is a mystery to him, but now, he settles back to tell you exactly what he wants from you…what he knows will feel good for his conejita.

“Okay, bunny, lean back for me…That’s it, get comfortable. Good girl.” Looking into your camera to your side, a nervous smile plays at your lips, shyness overcoming you as you wait with bated breath for Frankie, who’s still a mystery to you, to instruct you. It’s driving him mad, how trusting you are of him without ever seeing his face. Such a sweet girl. His sweet girl.

“Show me how you like to play when no one’s watching.”

When his phone dings one evening a few weeks later, Frankie pulls himself out from under the hood of his project car. A familiar fizz bubbles over his body, a Pavlovian response that’s been built over the last few weeks he’s been talking to you. There have been text chains, full of flirty sincerity, and more phone calls, all with his camera off but not all ending like that first one. There have been times when the two of you have had long conversations, full of laughter and learning about the other. A few calls have ended with you falling asleep, stuffed bunny tucked under your chin and pillowy lips parted slightly with deep, even breaths.

Admittedly, he’s grown attached. Maybe a bit much for…whatever this relationship or friendship is, but he can’t help the teenage giddiness he’s felt with every text chime, ringtone, or dial that he’s found you on the other end of.

He’s got a crush.

So immediately at the peal of his cell, he’s reaching for the rag on his workbench, wiping his hands clean of grease before reading over your message.

Conejita:

Hiii 😚

Are you busy?​

Grinning like a fool at the gray bubble, Frankie begins to type out a response before abandoning the message and clicking the phone button at the top of your name instead. Pressing the speaker to his ear, he runs a thumb across his bottom lip while he listens to the trill of the dial tone. Steps pace him across the garage, counting them in his head as he waits for an answer.

“Hey, stranger.” The line clicks on and your voice immediately draws a smile across Frankie’s face, hearing one of yours in your upbeat tone.

“Hey, Conejita. What’s up with you?” Even your presence over the phone calms his nerves, sparking kindling low in his gut that spreads down to his toes and up to the back of his neck. Frankie tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder as he wanders back over to the carhood, shutting it carefully. He retreats inside, washing his hands as he listens to you recount your day.

“...So then I got pissed off and left ‘cause she was being so unreasonable. And then I wanted to talk to you ‘cause, I dunno.” The intensity in your cadence slows down toward the tailend of your story of an argument with a friend of yours; Frankie chuckles, biting his tongue while you sigh deeply and he dries his hands off on a kitchen towel.

“You don’t know why you wanted to talk to me? Don’t get all shy on me now, cariño,” he teases you, receiving a frustrated huff on the other end. “Well, for what it’s worth, I agree with you. She sounds like she has a stick up her ass. And m’glad you wanted to call me, Conejita.”

“D’you wanna switch to Facetime?”

“‘Course, I do. Always wanna see your face, jus’ one sec…” Frankie climbs his stairs two at a time, reaching the landing as his screen lights up with the Facetime request from you. He answers it, camera off, while he changes out of dirty clothes and listens to you chatting about plans for the weekend. He mentions going out with the guys tomorrow night, and you make a jest that gets him laughing, both of you bantering back and forth before he settles back on his bed.

“Y’know, I am content to chat with you like this, Frankie. But I keep wondering what you look like…” In the small rectangle of his screen, you lean forward to fill more of it, cleavage exposed in your bralette. He’s been waiting for this to be brought up again, and feeling so much more comfortable with you, he can’t admit he hasn’t thought about it. But with that stronger connection comes the anxieties. What if he isn’t what you pictured? What if he isn’t your type? What if you don’t like him anymore?

Frankie thinks he’s decent looking enough — he hasn’t had much trouble pulling girls since he was a teenager, but not being the most commanding or charismatic in the room, he has had his bouts of struggle in the relationship department.

“Please, Frankie. S’not fair I get to hear your sexy voice and not know what you look like. Pretty please, I’ll give you something special if you do,” you bargain with a pout on your face, bottom lip protruding and puffy. He wants to kiss it away, bite down on the glossy flesh, work away your frowning moue with his own mouth. Wonderings of what you taste like.

Coming back into himself, he wears a proud, intrigued smirk that you’re blind to except for the way his words curl around his slick, silvery tongue, “Oh, is that right, bunny? What if I wanna know what the something special is to decide?”

“Not how it works, silly. Either you want something special or you don’t.” A stern shake of the head, sitting up straight as you raise an eyebrow at him.

He sits with it for a moment, thoughts warring on the inside. In the end, his realistic side barters that either way could end badly: he doesn’t turn the camera on and you get frustrated, ending it, or he does turn the camera on and you don’t like the look of him, ending it. A phantom whisper of your voice, bubbly and bright, reminds him that it could make everything even better, and that ultimately is what convinces him.

“Alright, alright. You make a convincing argument, Conejita.”

A beaming smile stretches across your face as you draw a leg up to your chest, resting your head on your kneecap while you hold back your excitement and anticipation. Frankie takes in the sight of you, astir on tenterhooks.

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbles to himself before his thumb is pressing the camera button, illuminating himself on your screen. He sees himself in the smaller rectangle in the corner, grimacing before he laughs softly and grins, awaiting your reaction with waves of solicitude raging inside.

You see him, your Frankie. Filling your phone screen. Finally.

A nearly inaudible gasp leaves your lips, blocked from the mic by your knee. Studying his face, you witness the lines next to his eyes deepening as he laughs, his shy smile growing on his face. Big brown eyes strike your chest, their sincere softness making you want to fall into their warmth and stay there forever. Like the comforting heat of a mug of coffee on a chilly morning. You note that your visualizations were correct, mostly. Brown hair, curling out from under the cap branded with Standard Oil that sits on his head. Wide set shoulders that extend out of frame, a build to him that screams he most definitely can manhandle you around in bed. His call sign makes a bit more sense to you, seeing patches in his short beard, admiring the one on his left cheek that is shaped like a heart. Simply endearing. The image of him in front of you sends a shock to your core, wet spot in your panties growing as you begin to imagine what the rest of him looks like.

Hot is all you can think. Frankie is fucking hot.

His voice cuts through your trails of admiration, joking around to break the silent tension, “So are you gonna ask me to keep my camera off now?”

As you swallow to recover some of your composure, shaking your head back and forth quickly before a genuinely eager smile paints your expression. Leaning closer to see more of his details, freckles across his neck and where his shirt exposes a sliver of his chest, the peak of his cupid’s bow shaded by his mustache, long eyelashes that reach toward his eyebrows. You drop your knee from in front of you, leaning an elbow on the surface of your desk and resting your shin in your palm.

“Frankie, respectfully, what the fuck? You’re so hot.”

A boisterous laugh rolls from his chest, the same shy smile returning with a blush across his cheeks, “Conejita, you’re the hot one between us.”

“No, no, I’m being serious. You’re like — Damn. Your smile. And you have pretty eyes, Frankie. And you’re just like…really fucking hot. I can’t even think of another word. You should be the one doing what I’m doing.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re only seeing my face, baby.”

“Yeah, and? It’s a pretty face…Wanna sit on it.” Your giggle cuts through his speakers, and Frankie groans at the comment. Saliva coats your mouth as you watch the muscles in his neck tense, licking your chops like a prowling lion. If only he was in front of you right now…

“Diablita…eres una problema. (Little devil…you’re a problem.) Do I get my special something now?”

Another giggle and a mischievous smirk make Frankie’s brows stitch together in frustration, your shoulders shrugging as you toy with the strap of your bra, hooked under your index finger, “Actually, I think I wanna move the goalpost. Will you show me what I’m missin’, Frankie? I wanna see more.”

Desire burns bright and wild inside of you, ache building between your legs as your arousal drips from your panties and onto your thighs. You’d been picturing him — all of him — for weeks. Ever since that first message. But now, seeing him on your phone screen, your imagination is running wild with newfound information and attempting to fill in the blanks. He has to be big, thickness would be just right. He’s the quiet type, unassuming in his own looks, which means he has to have a virtually perfect dick. It's the rules of the universe. Undecided if he’s cut or not, but regardless, picturing your manicured fingers wrapped around it and tongue licking at his tip. Watching him come undone from you. Stomach tensing, those long fingers that you sneak a peek of when he adjusts his hat wrapped up in your hair. Rasping moans. What would he taste like?

Frankie shakes his head, a quick tsking drawing your attention back to the moment as he looks on with a teasing expression, “Conejita, I don’t think it works like that.”

“Okay, then no special something for you. Your choice, Francisco.”

He watches as you move the strap back up your shoulder, the soft snap of the elastic against your skin. Huffing out a frustrated breath, he mumbles, “No serías tan valiente si estuvieras aquí conmigo, mocosa. (You wouldn’t be so brave if you were here with me, brat.)”

Uncaring in whatever annoyances he was airing with you, you watch him sit up further in the frame, knocking off his cap and reaching for the hem of his shirt. Despite his words, he lifts his shirt over his head, looking back at the camera, bare shoulders and chest on display, “This is what you get for now, bunny.”

Satisfaction glows from your smile, biting hard into your bottom lip while Frankie watches your eyes search everywhere on your screen besides his own. A stern clearing of his throat breaks your trance, a commanding expression on Frankie’s face.

“You promised me something, Conejita.”

A deep pout replaces your grin, huffing in defiance as you slip your bra straps from your shoulders, “Can’t you please take the rest off? Show me what I wanna see, Frankie. Please.”

“Nah uh. Quit demanding, baby. Y’know that’s my job. Now tell me, what are you gonna do for me to get what you want?” His unwavering voice surprises you, despite hearing it for weeks. With the added heat factor of his looks, you crumble a bit quicker, clenching your thighs as you sigh and nod obediently.

“I’ll do anything, Frankie. Jus’ tell me what to do, I wanna make you happy.”

He grins on the screen, sincere softness peeking out, “Oh, baby, y’know it’s easy to make me happy. Jus’ gotta be a good little bunny, yeah?” He hums, licking his lips as he ponders what he wants from you tonight, a night he wants to fill with another milestone for the two of you. He’s only seen you use a small vibrator or your fingers on the phone with you, but he knows what else you have. He’s watched the video of you using it on your profile only about ten times.

“Get your pretty pink toy for me, Conejita. Y’know the one. And then get on the floor and you’re going to show me exactly how you use it.”

There’s rustling as you follow his instructions, stripping bare and suctioning the toy to your hardwood floors, propping the phone up for him to see it all. The hot pink dildo bobbles from you moving around it, glistening with lube that you applied — even though with one glance at your cunt, both you and Frankie know you wouldn’t need it. Straddling over the silicone, you slowly tease your entrance with it, whining before you make one more attempt to Frankie watching you with a smugness in his smirk.

“Please, Frankie, can’t you please show me your cock? I wanna picture it while I fuck myself. Wanna know if it’s how I imagined…Dream about it a lot.” He can read right through your tactics, but his dick can’t. It strains against his zippered jeans, throbbing under the fabric for some sort of relief. He squeezes his palm over it once, exhaling as he shakes his head, strong in his convictions.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll show you what you wanna see.” No more room for negotiations.

“Yes’sir.”

Frankie’s mouth hangs ajar while his focus trains on the apex of your thighs. Watching you slowly sink down, the bright pink rubbery toy disappears inside of you. Whimpers slip from your lips as you brace your hands on your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin. Need burns brightly in his chest and below his belt, clenching his jaw while he imagines biting the meaty part of you, leaving teeth marks in his wake before settling his mouth at your entrance.

Your hips set a quick pace, desperate for the high you’ve been dripping for since getting on the phone with Frankie. A low growl followed with a disapproving tut clicks over the speakers of your phone.

“Slow down, baby girl. Not a race…” Frankie corrects, and the only response you have is a frantic nod, turning your movements to a drag. The toy fills you up, stretches you the most that you have ever been. Pain heats your feelings of pleasure, intensifying it all in the lightness of your limbs and head. The ridges of the faux veins of the fake cock impress into your walls, the tip of it notching at the spot inside of you that Frankie taught you to reach. It only skates by it, whines accompanying your frustrations.

Frankie, on the other end, listens to the squelch of your pussy around the silicone. The sound drives him to fully cup his erection through his pants, palming himself with heady breaths as your own moans for him drive the iron hot brand of need deeper into his skin. He can see your need for a change, your need to be given permission to chase that feeling that’s within reach.

“Lean back, little bunny. Sit back on your hands and use your hips…Show me more of that pretty pussy,” he instructs, cool and confident while his hips buck up into his hand. Being his perfect girl, you do as he says and change positions, gasping when you sink down onto the toy. Your cunt clenches around it, a satisfied smirk painting Frankie’s face. He knows he’s gotten you to hit that special spot. With the grip your entrance has around the base of the dildo, he wonders if you’ll pop it off of the floor on your next thrust.

“Oh, fuck…Frankie, wish you were here. Tell me—tell me what you’d do to me if you were here,” you beg, your hips still dragging at the new angle.

A groan escapes Frankie at your request, biting down hard on his lip and taking his hand away from his lap to deny himself the temptation.

“You love hearing me say all the dirty things to you, huh Conejita?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues, “If I were there with you, I’d would be—shit—I’d be devouring you right now. Fucking you with my tongue and my fingers, making you squeeze me and getting your come all over my face. Gotta get you ready for me, bunny. After, I’d flip you over. Get your pretty ass up for me, and I’d fuck you senseless. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Turn it all off up there and just let me take care of you…”

Nodding, your hips start to move faster as Frankie speaks to you. He doesn’t have the heart to tease you anymore, letting you start to take what you want for a bit. Your moans pitch up, tits bouncing with your nipples pebbled and the rest of your soft curves twisting as you rock back and forth on the toy.

“Yes, please. I want that,” you mewl, heavy breaths erratic.

“That’s right. My baby deserves it all,” he says with a sigh, his large palm squeezing his hard cock again, slowly unzipping his jeans and slipping his hand into his boxers to grip himself at the base. “I’d fuck you until that pretty little brain of yours was filled up only with thoughts of how good I make you feel. How good you are for me, pretty girl…Look at you go, bouncing on that toy. Rub your clit, Conejita. Slow, at least for right now.”

You follow his orders, supporting yourself on one arm. Slow circles against your clit have you shuddering with pleasure, a twitch of your tummy as you moan. Your eyes flutter shut, face twisting with overwhelming need. Frankie drinks in the sight, indulging himself in a few long strokes of his cock before he hears it.

“Daddy…” you breathe, near a whisper, but it’s audible to him. Lost in yourself, you don’t even notice you’ve let it slip until it comes again, “Oh my god, Daddy.”

The surprise of it shocks your eyes open, stuttering your hips as you narrow in on your screen. Frankie’s eyes grow dark, licking his lips as he holds in a loud moan. His fingers grip the base of his aching cock, holding off at the edge. So close to coming when he heard that word drip from your mouth like melted sugar.

He can tell you’re attempting to gauge his reaction, nervous settling in as you attempt to move on from it and continue fucking yourself closer to finishing. Frankie’s eager to take it in stride, clearing his throat before he gives it right back to you, opening that door that he knows won’t be shut any time soon. At least not by him.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Let Daddy tell you what you need, yeah?” He chuckles darkly, satisfaction thumping in his veins while you nod and whimper yes yes yes back to him, “Y’know, if you like that lil’ toy, baby, Daddy’s cock will feel even better. S’bigger than that fucking thing.”

“Oh, fuck, I need to—I need you, Daddy, please!”

“I know, Conejita, I know. Poor little thing jus’ needs Daddy to be filling her up, huh? You wanna know what my cock feels like inside of you, don’t you, pequeña?” He hisses with a buck of his hips into his fist, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second.

“Yes, yes, please, Daddy! Please,” you choke on a breath and Frankie can see you twitch at your inner thighs from the full-on view of your pussy, your tell-tale sign that you’re about to come.

“Y’know the rules, Conejita. Better ask before you come.”

“Please, please may I come?” you moan, rubbing faster circles against your clit and grinding down on your toy.

“Oh, bunny, you can ask nicer than that. May I come…?” he leads, smirking devilishly when you nearly squeal from the way he’s holding you out on the edge. Teetering on the verge of that high that he knows well, he can see your legs faltering with a cramp.

“Please may I come, Daddy?” Your eyes open, heavy-lidded and lips parted with shallow breathing. Frankie gets lost in the sight, wrecked from his direction, his words, a sheen of sweat over your skin and the arousal coating your thighs. A fucking dream.

“Mm, come for Daddy, baby girl—” he’s interrupt as you erupt in a high-pitched moan, mouth wide open as you string together mumblings Oh fuck, Daddy, feels so good. Need you so bad…

“Good girl.”

Frankie hums contently, chuckling as a dopey grin finds your face, blinking through the orgasmic haze. Laying back, you slip the toy out of your pussy, leaving it to wobble in place and spreading your legs around it. One arm comes to rest against your forehead, breasts rising and falling with deep, recovering breaths. He’s blocked of the view that would make this moment even sweeter, licking his lips before he speaks up.

“Lemme see that fucked cunt of yours, bunny. Let Daddy see what belongs to him.” You sit up again, popping the toy off of the floor and laying it to the side to be cleaned later. Frankie hums as you part your legs more, the glittering of your come dripping on your thighs and across your swollen pussy. “Eres un buen oyente, pequeña. (You’re a good listener, little one.)”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, a long exhale punctuating the question.

“You’re a good listener, little one.” Frankie grins when you grow shy, inching your legs together before he tsks again, one hand coming into frame to motion for your lower limbs to part again.

“Y’know, it would look even prettier with my come dripping out of ya, baby.”

“Please.”

“What, Conejita?”

“Don’t tease me anymore…Can’t take it, Daddy.” You lips push out in a pout, subtle but he can catch the change in expression.

“Nah uh, no pouting, bunny. Who said that I was teasing? I’m going to make it happen.”

Sweetness slips from your lips in a giggle, leaning over to pick up your phone and hold him closer to your face.

“So, if I was a good girl, doesn’t that mean I get to see what I asked for before?” Wiggling in eagerness, Frankie feigns ignorance, scratching at his beard as he shrugs, acting as if he didn’t nearly come in his pants multiple times in the last few minutes.

“I dunno, Conejita. What did you ask me for? Gonna have to remind me.”

“Your cock. I wanna see it.” Your pout sneaks back, biting your lip. “May I please see your cock, Daddy?”

“I think I could do that for you, baby. Asking so nicely. Such a good girl for Daddy, yeah?”

“Always.” A giggle bubbles up from your tummy, biting down on your lip as Frankie takes you in, shaking his head in subtle disbelief. How the hell did clicking for one subscription get him here, having Facetime sex with you?

He obliges your original requests, moving to prop his phone up in front of him, stripping down his jeans first. The sight of his bulge waters your mouth, pupils widening in want at the outline of his cock. No tricks of the light, no chance of manipulation like some men in your DMs do. All natural.

And Frankie wasn’t lying. He’s big.

The reveal comes when he tugs his boxers down to his ankles, settling in front of the camera again. His heavy length rests against his lower stomach, precum dripping into his dark happy trail. Your eyes drag over the veins ribbing him, leading down to show off that he’s tastefully groomed. Swallowing saliva, you lick your lips as his large hand wraps around, slow strokes that gently shift the foreskin away from his tip. The end of his cock glistens with pebbles of precum, red and aching. Frankie hisses at the contact, the veins in his neck straining against his skin while he starts to fuck his fist.

“You look so pretty, Daddy,” you compliment sweetly, grinning at him as he laughs quietly back at you.

“Such a sweet little bunny. You think you can take me in your tight little cunt?” A long exhales concaves his chest, quiet moans as his hand picks up pace. 

You return his regular favor of talking him through it, detailing how good of a girl you’d be for him, telling him all that he would be allowed to do to you. The sounds Frankie makes has you dripping again, getting his permission to fuck your fingers, both of you driving each other to a peak, your second one taking the breath from your lungs as Frankie comes at the same time. Whimpers escape your mouth as you envy his hand and stomach being covered in his release, biting your tongue and crowding the screen as he shows off how much you made him come.

“Wish I was there to clean you up, Daddy.”

“Right back at you, Conejita.”

A few days later, Frankie calls you after one of your livestreams, grinning like a schoolboy when you answer in only your underwear. You laugh as you set your phone down on the surface of your dressing, his childish smirk turning to a pout as he stares at your white painted ceiling. Calling out to him, you ask for one second while you tug a sweatshirt over your head, shuffling around before grabbing the device and relaxing back on your bed, bunny in your lap.

“Hi, baby,” Frankie coos, one side of his mouth lifting in a smile as he drinks in your cozy, drowsy demeanor. Cuddling with the toy against your chest, you grin back at him, curling up onto your side like a cat.

“Hi, Frankie,” you mumble back, exhaustion heavy in your eyes.

“You sleepy, little bunny?” A slow nod answers his question. “Alright, I won’t keep you up for long then. Just had a question for you.”

The vague proposition piques your interest, your eyes shooting open and the camera being brought closer to your face, “What’s your question?”

Frankie works his lips between his teeth, nerves crackling over his entire body. Realistically, he knows you’ll say yes, but there’s still that chance for rejection in the moment. His left leg bounces against his couch, hand running over his face as he takes a deep breath in, “I was wondering if you’d wanna come visit me here in Florida? If you don’t have time—”

“I would love to come visit, Frankie,” you agree immediately, a sincere smile growing on your face. Frankie mirrors your excitement with a goofy grin, the creases next to his eyes deepening and his dimple cratoring his cheek. “I’ll even book my flight right now, that’s how eager I am.”

Shaking his head furiously, he clicks his tongue in a tut, scolding you playfully, “Hey, hey. No, none of that. I’m not letting my baby pay, I’m the one who asked you to come.”

“But—”

“Nope, no buts. Except yours getting onto a plane and coming to see me,” Frankie laughs at his own joke, earning a playful eye roll as you hold back your own chuckle. “Oh, c’mon, that was funny, Conejita. I can tell you want to laugh.”

The two of you go back and forth while he books your flight on his laptop, showing off the confirmation number once it’s all gone through. Both of you wear shit-eating grins on your faces, sitting in disbelief.

Frankie can’t help the rush of anxiety, unable to tell if it’s solely from his excitement. All he can think about is having you in front of him, in the flesh, in person. No screens between the two of you, no broken signals or shitty wifi interruptions. Hearing your voice without the strain of speakers, getting to touch you, taste you, hear you, feel you all over him. There’s the flash of a vision of you laid out underneath him, making your little sounds that drive him crazy and digging your nails into his back…

“Gonna let Daddy spoil you while you’re down here, baby girl?” Frankie smirks as you stretch sleepily, biting down on your lip.

“You’re flying me out, isn’t that spoiling me enough? Shouldn’t it be my turn to spoil you then?”

“Think you know the answer to that, baby. Having you in front of me is spoiling me enough, I jus’ wanna take care of you.” 

The simple statement brings a smile to your face, shyly tucking your face into your pillow. The rest of the call relaxes you back to near sleep, listening as Frankie tells you all about what he’ll take you to do. Your drowsiness catches up with you, drifting off on the phone. Frankie chuckles quietly to himself, sitting with you for a moment silently before he goes to hang up.

“Night, Conejita. Can’t wait to see you.”

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[megamindsecretlair]

Say You Love Me

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Angst. Smut. Cursing, dirty talk, PIV, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), minor D/s elements, all consensual. Allusions to drug use, masturbation.

Summary: After Frankie returned from the trip, he seemed like a different person. More moody and withdrawn. You finally couldn't take it anymore, all the times he snorted drugs and fucked up. You kicked him out and it has been months. After getting scared half to death, you finally admit to yourself that you miss being around Frankie. You decide to clear the air once and for all, getting reacquainted with him. 

Word Count: 7,234k

AO3 Link

A/N: Finally stopped being a baby and decided to write and post this. Idk why this has been plauging my brain, but I enjoy it and I hope you do too. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @soft-persephone @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @superhoeva @softimgyu @eggnox

You rolled over in bed, stretching your hand across the other side and finding the space cold. Every morning you woke up, reaching out for a body that would no longer be there. No matter how many times you started the night in the middle of the bed, your body was too used to “your” side. 

You sighed, snatching your hand back, and got out of bed. It was approaching midday on Saturday and you were too damn tired to do anything. Work was kicking your ass per usual and your daughter had been up all damn night crying. It took a village to raise a baby. Your daughter had to settle for you.

You looked and felt like hell. You passed a mirror, not bothering to give yourself more than a cursory glance. You knew you looked how you felt and you didn’t want any visual reminders. You went down the hall, checking in on your baby girl, Inez. She was up all damn night so you decided to postpone going to the park today. Let her sleep some of that wayward energy away.

You’d have to find something else to tire her out during the day so that you got some kind of sleep. Inez was far too young to understand why Daddy wasn’t home, but old enough to ask about him. Constantly. And hell if you knew what to say. You didn’t understand it yourself.

Your daughter needed you, so you didn’t get to fall apart like you wanted. You finally closed her bedroom door, walking down the hall once more towards the kitchen. The kitchen was open and spacious enough to feel like you could cook without too many things in the way.

There was a small kitchen island in the middle, where the sink was, and extra counter space to work. You took out ingredients for pancakes, eggs, and bacon. You yawned as you greased the pan with butter, turning to the countertop to start mixing the pancake mix.

You set everything down, reaching into your spice cabinet. You braced yourself to fight with the cabinet door, damn thing had been stuck for months, but it gave way easily. You stumbled a bit and looked at it, testing the cabinet by opening and closing it.

“The hell…” You muttered. You tested the cabinet again. Matter of fact, strange things like that had been happening for a while. Where things that were once loose or in need of fixing magically repaired itself overnight.

Were you sleepwalking and fixing things? Had you imagined that these things were broken? You remembered bitching to Frankie that he needed to stop snorting shit and actually be useful around the house. Some of that was picking a fight because it was more convenient to yell at him than admit how frustrated you were with him, life, or work. 

You closed the cabinet with a frown, making a mental note to investigate it later. As you turned around, you jumped with a scream on your lips. A shadow passed outside of your house. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to yell out for Frankie, that there was a stranger outside. Bastard was no longer there. Your heart raced as you peered out of your kitchen window. Whatever or whoever it had been was too quick. You couldn’t see past a certain angle, as the kitchen was tucked in the corner of the house.

“Shit, shit,” you whispered. You never touched Frankie’s guns, despite how many times he begged to show you how to defend yourself. 

“Why would I need to know how when I have a big strong man to do it for me?” Your words to him echoed in your mind as you backed away from the kitchen slowly, eyes glued to the window. It could be nothing. It could be something. But fuck if you didn’t wish you had listened to Frankie at the moment.

You padded away, barefoot, careful of every creak as if the person or thing outside could hear it. You backed all the way to your bedroom, grabbing a bat. You really didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to have to fend off an attacker. Too many scenarios ran through your mind.

What about your daughter? What about you? How were you going to protect her if this thing or person hit you, hurt you, or killed you? And who the hell does something like this in broad daylight? A fucking psychopath.

You swallowed around a huge dry lump in your throat, feeling your heartbeat in every step you took towards your daughter’s room. 

Faintly, there was a scratching sound. Or perhaps a knock? You couldn’t make it out. It was so quiet in the house, you couldn’t decipher the house settling or an intruder trying to break in. 

You opened Inez’s room by a crack, checking to ensure that she was still asleep and none the wiser. You debated if you should wake her up and stow her in her closet or in yours. No. You needed to make sure that the asshole never made it past you. It was that simple.

You closed her door as softly as possible, inching down the hall towards the back of the house. Towards the source of the noise. It sounded louder. Or maybe you were just getting closer.

Either way, you were nearly to the back door. There was a large shadow there. You could see your locks getting turned. You trembled with fear, but there was only one thought in your head, “Gotta protect my baby.”

The locks gave way just as you raised the bat in your hand. You had a fleeting thought about bringing a bat to a gun fight when a large man let himself into your house, lifted his head, that damn baseball cap moving to reveal chocolate brown eyes and a scruffy beard.

“Francisco Morales!” You harshly whispered, lowering the bat.

Frankie stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, lips puckered in an apology. “Sorry!” He said in the same tone you were using.

A mixture of relief and adrenaline flooded through your system, making you sway. You leaned on the wall for support. Frankie reached out but you held up the bat to keep him away.

“I almost peed my fucking pants!” You furiously whispered.

Frankie looked down at your bare legs. You opted to wear a blue tank and black shorts to bed since you had the heater cranked up to a hundred. Without him as a space heater, going to bed was damn near frigid. 

Heat rushed through you at the look on his face. Despite the tense situation, he still looked ready to devour you. Sex was never your problem. It’d been entirely too long since you felt his touch but that was beside the point. He was still a bastard.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. Damn him. He looked good, sporting dark jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt. The shirt was stretched over his biceps, granting you a view of his golden skin tanned from being outside. He wore his signature cap, curls peeking out from underneath. 

“It’s my house,” you said.

“I mean, yes. But why aren’t you at the park?” He asked.

You stared at him. “What?” 

“You’re usually at the park by now,” he said.

“Are you stalking me?” You asked. You had too many thoughts whirling through your mind and not nearly enough food. Your stomach chose that moment to growl. You placed a hand over your belly, willing it to shut the fuck up. 

Frankie lifted an eyebrow and you scowled at him. “No, I’m not stalking you. I just…” he grew quiet, licking his lips and suddenly looking everywhere but at you.

“Spit it out,” you said. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. You couldn’t begin to imagine what he had up his sleeve at the moment. What fanciful yarn of shit he was getting ready to spin.

“I sort of fix things while you’re gone,” he said slowly. 

“Sort of?” 

“You were always telling me about things I needed to fix. And I never did. I..I wanted to make sure shit worked around here, even when I’m not here.” 

You sagged against the wall, chuckling though there wasn’t a damn thing funny. “That’s you?” You asked.

Well, at least you weren’t going crazy. It was just like Frankie to show up a day late and a dollar short. “So you let yourself into my house while I’m gone?” You asked. You leaned the bat against the wall. You placed a hand over your chest. Your heart was still beating a hundred times per second. 

Frankie stood framed by the doorway, sunlight hitting the back of him and making him glow slightly. He kept one hand on the handle as if he didn’t know he should bolt or stay. 

“It’s my house too,” he said, a deep sigh leaving him. 

“You can’t be here, Frankie. You can’t let yourself in to fix things. I have…I can call someone to come fix it,” you said.

“And have some piece of shit overcharge you or some stranger in here?” 

“It’s not your business anymore,” you whispered. Having Frankie here, in the flesh, while you were half naked, was screwing with your nerves. It had been too long since you'd seen him longer than the time it took to drop your daughter off at Santiago’s where Frankie was staying. 

And he caught you in a particularly vulnerable moment, missing the heat of his skin and the curve of his lips. Frankie turned wide eyes towards you and licked his lips. He dropped his hand from the knob and placed his hands on his lean hips. “Let me at least fix one more thing,” he said.

“Frankie…” You sighed.

“Just one more. And…I won’t come around anymore.” You tried to ignore the trembling in his voice. The thickness of his words and how he forced himself to say it. 

You were tired. And he caught you on a bad day. You knew it was a bad idea, but you moved away and let him enter. He closed the door and locked it, giving you a brief smile before he walked down the hallway. You saw him glance towards your daughter’s room, but he kept moving on towards the kitchen.

You debated throwing on a robe or longer pants. Anything to not make you feel so exposed. But this was your house, dammit. And just because he pushed his way in, didn’t mean that you had to change anything on your side.

Frankie assessed the kitchen and noted your breakfast supplies. “Pancakes?” He asked. 

You nodded. Frankie nodded. It was all so awkward. Staring at him across a chasm of pain and frustration. You’d give anything to run to his side, tuck yourself under his arm, and just breathe in his scent. Feel warmed by his body heat.

“Christ, it’s hot in here,” he said. He took off his cap and wiped sweat from his brow, fixing his hair before returning the cap. He was letting it get too long, the ends curling against his ears. 

You cleared your throat and put yourself to good use by finishing up breakfast. Inez would be up soon and you wanted to get her something to eat. You didn’t know what you would do if she caught Frankie here. She would inevitably ask if he was staying for breakfast. You finished up bacon, making extra…just in case. 

Frankie moved around the kitchen like a phantom, knowing exactly where everything was. He should, it had only been a few months since the separation. Since he followed his friends on some asinine “top secret mission” and came back changed somehow. He offered you no explanation. You held on to the anger you felt, the hurt, the many ways you tried to get him to open up and he never did. 

You cleared your throat again, not wanting to go down that dark path once more. “If it’s too warm, I can turn down the heater,” Frankie offered.

“I got it,” you said. You didn’t move towards the thermostat. You continued mixing the pancake mix and wishing he’d hurry the hell up. You felt his eyes on you linger for a brief moment before he dropped to the floor, getting under the kitchen sink. You moved out of his way, standing off to the side while you spun the spoon around and around. Trying to ignore the length of him. His legs as he propped them on the floor. His heavy, scuffed boots. 

Frankie grunted as he worked. You hadn’t seen him grab his old tool box and you nearly tripped over it. You cursed as it hit your foot, your baby toe smarting from where you hit it. Frankie gave you a lopsided grin.

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” He asked.

“Focus on yourself,” you said, though you noticed it had no bite in your words. A kiss from him…you must be loopy. Not seeing Frankie helped. Not being reminded of how pretty he is when he’s sober, teasing, and open like he was before. It was easy to focus on your daughter or work, day by day, too tired to worry about how you arrived here.

“We used to have fun finding things to fix,” he said, returning to whatever the hell he was doing.

You didn’t say anything as you turned your attention to the eggs, getting it prepped before putting it on to cook. You whisked the eggs as you remembered when you first moved to the house. It was a piece of shit then, but you had fun making it into a home. Into something both of you were proud of. 

“I let too many things slide,” he said.

“Can’t you fix that shit in silence?” You snapped. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, mixing and mixing and mixing. You were scatterbrained, Frankie’s presence conjuring up many memories and thoughts. But the only one you were stuck on now, was how amazing he looked. His shirt had ridden up while he reached under the sink. You saw a hint of his tummy, so thick and luscious with a happy trail leading straight down to…

“Eyes up here, gorgeous,” he muttered. You looked up and caught his eyes and a smirk on his face. 

You turned back to the stove, turning it back on, and obscuring your face from his. So what, he caught you staring. It’d been months…Months since you kissed him, held him, or felt any kind of relief. You tried after he was gone. Tried pleasuring yourself in your bed, in your bathtub, in the living room after your daughter went off to bed. 

Nothing worked. It was like your body had gotten much too used to the way he took care of you, your fingers and vibrator no longer did shit for you. Asshole. Out of all the things he did, he didn’t have to take that from you as well. You’d be able to think more clearly, act better, when you got around him if you weren’t so pent up. None of this…yearning.

You turned around, ready to plate the eggs when Frankie stood behind you. Too close. You gasped, standing so close to him that your breasts nearly brushed his chest. He smiled crookedly at you, looking down, when he whispered, “Forgot something in my truck.”

You nodded. Swallowed painfully. He didn’t move. Didn’t touch you, didn’t say anything, just stood there in the kitchen looking down at you. 

“Is there anything else that needs fixing around here?” He asked.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him that your body needed fixing. Your heart too. You shook your head, moving past him since he wasn’t inclined to move. He sucked in a sharp bite of air as your body slid against his. Possibly on purpose. 

“Daddy!” Inez shrieked in the otherwise quiet house. Frankie’s face erupted in a big smile. 

“Chiquita! (Little one!) Look at you!” He said. He stooped down and scooped up your daughter, swirling her around the kitchen in a giant bear hug. The eggs popped behind you. 

You softly cursed, taking the pan off of the stove and turning it off. Not burnt but…not soft either. You plated the eggs, turning your attention to Frankie as he held Inez in his arms. 

She chattered away, catching him up on everything he missed since he’d seen her last weekend. Everything that happened on Bluey, with school, with her friends, and with a squirrel she grew fond of in the backyard. 

Frankie listened to everything, rapt attention, like your daughter was providing exclusive news coverage. He asked her questions, getting her to open up more. It made your heart sick. 

“Is Daddy staying again?” Inez asked.

Your lips parted but no words were forthcoming. You looked to Frankie for help, though you didn’t know why. Bastard was smiling at you. “I can’t let you eat all the bacon. I’m a growing boy, I need food,” he said. He pouted at your daughter who shrieked with giggles. 

“You’re already growed up!” 

“Growed is not a word,” you said. 

“Mommy’s just jealous. She’s already growed up, too,” Frankie said. 

You tilted your head at him but he only shrugged. You rolled your eyes.  “I suppose I can spare a few slices…”

Inez yelled in victory, mimicking her father when he watched sports. He yelled the same way, placing your daughter down on the floor. He got down to her level, fixing her pjs and then tapped her nose.

“Now, I wanna see clean teeth and a scrubbed face in ten minutes,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Go!” 

Your daughter took off towards the bathroom, huffing and pumping her short little legs to beat Frankie’s clock. He watched her with a slight chuckle and you watched him. You hated that they worked so well together. You started to feel like the Wicked Witch of the East keeping them apart. 

You never denied Frankie a chance to see his daughter. But you knew that he was maintaining a healthy distance for your sake. Because whenever you got around him, you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or scratch his eyes out. 

Frankie stood up, walking over to you. “I can make up something if you don’t really want me here,” he said. 

And be the one to crush your daughter’s heart? He stood too close again, crowding your space in the way that he always liked. Frankie reminded you of a puppy, a wolf puppy, but a puppy that just liked to snuggle. Touch. Caress. Part of his charm was that he was so openly caring that way. 

“It’s okay. Some payment is in order for fixing the sink. Finally,” you couldn’t help but add. 

Frankie smiled, placing a hand over his chest. “You wound me,” he said.

“Better hurry before there’s no more bacon left.” Frankie smiled, turning on the sink. You waited for it to sputter like normal, shooting out water before clearing and returning to a normal flow. When it didn’t, Frankie winked at you and washed his hands. 

“I still need something from the truck, I’ll hurry,” he said. He went out the front door this time. You moved everything to the dining table, getting out three plates instead of two. You peeked out of the window as Frankie climbed into his truck, retrieving a plastic bag. 

The sun damn sure loved him. It highlighted his tanned skin, like the sun itself was giving him a kiss. The red in his hair stuck out against the sun. He turned towards the house and you moved on, hoping he didn’t catch you staring again. 

Frankie came back in, waving some kind of nugget for the sink. You didn’t have a clue what it did but if he said he needed it, then so be it. Your daughter returned, grinning up at Frankie. He stooped down to one knee, looking at her. 

“Did you just splash water everywhere?” He asked.

“Noooo,” Inez said. She was a bad liar. 

Frankie chuckled. “With soap this time, please Chiquita?” Your daughter’s shoulders slumped as she went back to the bathroom. 

You giggled as you poured orange juice for her and started the coffee maker. “Would it be alright…?”

“Black. I know, Frankie,” you said. It had been his standing order when he was still here. You liked doing domestic shit for him. Liked taking care of him to appreciate him for all the small ways he took care of you. Fuck, you missed it.

Your daughter returned and you all sat down to breakfast, like the good old times. You talked and laughed, played board games. Frankie told you to take a nap while he took your daughter out to the park to tire her out. You loved the idea so you agreed.

When you awoke, it was well past dark outside. You sleepily emerged from the bedroom, finding Frankie asleep on the couch with your daughter tucked into his lap. You sneakily backed away, grabbing your phone so that you could snap a picture. 

Done, you leaned against the doorway staring at the pretty picture of them. Frankie adjusted himself, waking though you swore you hadn’t made a noise. He smiled sleepily at you, kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Guess we both knocked out,” he said. 

“I’ll get her in bed,” you said.

“Let me?” He asked.

You nodded. He stood up slowly, cradling your daughter and took her to the room. You didn’t watch as he tucked her in. Couldn’t stand this separation a moment longer. You were weak. Weak in the damn knees and there was no solid ground beneath you. 

A wall of heat preceded Frankie before he stood behind you. He made no move to touch you, just stood there for a second before moving past. He cleared his throat. “I won’t come over anymore, promise,” he said. 

“I never really thanked you for fixing all that stuff,” you said.

“I should’ve done it while I was here. I wanted to do something nice for once. So you didn’t always think I was a piece of shit,” he said.

“I never thought you were a piece of shit, Frankie,” you said. You shook your head. This talk had been a long time coming. You supposed it was about time. Now, when you weren’t still so angry. Funny how a decent nap fixed a lot of things. 

When you kicked him out, it had been a huge screaming match. Luckily, your daughter was next door at a sleepover. But still. You were surprised you hadn’t woken the entire neighborhood. 

“It felt like…you didn’t want to be here. Like all you could think about was escaping. You were always up in the air and even when you were home, you were snorting shit or out with your friends. I started to feel like…” You weren’t quite that brave, to admit that it felt like he didn’t love you anymore. Couldn’t bear to toss those words out there.

Frankie saw you flinch anyway. He closed the distance and looked down at you with those haunting brown eyes. “You and Inez are the only important things in my life. I fucked that up, I know. But I swear to you, I wasn’t trying to escape. Never from you.” 

Tears welled in your eyes. Fuck, this shit was all so hard. You were staring at your husband, at your best friend, as if he were a stranger. There were so many things familiar about him and so many things you didn’t recognize. 

“Then why…?”

“Bad shit seems to pile up sometimes. So much so that the only way to drown it out is either up my nose or down the bottom of a bottle. I don’t want to burden you with that shit,” he said. He sighed and shook his head.

“It’s not a burden,” you said.

“It was to me. I only ever wanted you to keep being open and smiling. And happy, mi vida (my life).” 

“That’s not realistic, Frankie. Your burdens are my burdens. Mines are yours. That’s kinda in the marriage contract,” you said. 

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?” Frankie asked. He stepped closer, a shadow falling across your face because of his hat. 

“Frankie…” you sighed, shaking your head. Trying to ward off his words. You didn’t want to hear about his love. You didn’t want to think about all this time apart. 

“We’d only been dating two months. We had plans for a picnic. One of those fancy shits that people do because it’s cute and you just want to spend time together. Only, we got there, and it started raining. I thought you were going to think I was dumb or stupid for not checking the forecast. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.”

Your thoughts turned to that date. It was the exact opposite. You felt so over the moon about him already. You liked his voice and the cute way he meticulously planned everything and looked so nervous. It could have been a picnic in the park or running to the store, you just wanted to gobble up all of his time and attention. 

“But then you stood up while everyone was running for cover and you turned your face to the rain. And fuck, I’d never seen such a beautiful person before. Never felt felt like I was in the presence of, fuck, royalty or divinity or something.”

You laughed. You didn’t want to but he was being too damn cute. “Shut up,” you said.

“You know I don’t always have the right words. But I never felt like I deserved you. I left so often because I knew I was fucking up. I knew I did. I know I still do. And it fuckin’ hurts knowing that I want to be a better man for you and I can’t,” he said.

Your chest ached for him. “I never asked you to be a better man, Frankie. You already were,” you said. Didn’t the big idiot see? He was an amazing father. A great husband when he was on the right track. He always made you feel so safe and protected. Loved. Cherished. Respected. 

He gave and he gave, often at the expense of himself. He was a provider and a protector. Just because it was built into his DNA. And he thought he wasn’t a better man? 

Frankie dropped to his knees. He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. When you didn’t pull away, his large hands encircled your waist. He planted his forehead against your stomach. 

Softly, so softly you only heard him because it was quiet in the living room, he began speaking rapidly in Spanish. It was too fast for you to keep up with. It sounded like a prayer. It sounded like benediction. You slowly reached out and took off his baseball cap and let it drop to the floor.

You ran your hands through his curls, loving the softness of his hair. It was silky soft to the touch and you ran your fingers through it. Frankie sighed but continued. Reaching some kind of conclusion, he looked up at you. 

“I don’t deserve another chance, mi vida. You’ve put up with far too much from me already. But I can’t go another day without you. Without Inez. I want to be here. I want to be the man you married. I want to be everything you ever needed or wanted. And if you’ll give me that chance, I promise I’ll do everything I can to live up to it.”

You didn’t know what to say. It had been a hard road to being okay with kicking him out. You had spent many restless nights, tossing and turning because you didn’t want him in the house and you couldn’t bear the thought of him not being in it. Giving in right now felt like giving up. But it also felt like the stepping stone to everything you ever wanted from him.

For him to heal whatever was in his heart and mind. The shadows he kept from you. To be the man you married. And here he was, offering it to you on a silver platter. 

“I only want you to be yourself. Can you do that, Frankie?” You asked.

Not missing a beat, Frankie nodded. “I swear it.” 

You cupped his face and kissed him. Sliding your lips against his felt like the first breath of air after swimming for a long time. Like sliding onto clean sheets after a warm shower. Frankie made a low, strangled noise in his throat before he stood up and then crashed his lips back to yours. You caressed the nape of his neck, fingers curling around his hair, pulling him closer. 

Frankie’s hands migrated to your round ass, cupping it and squeezing. You gasped and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He didn’t move or press for more. Too content to stand here and make out with you. When you both were fighting for air, too lost in kisses to be apart for long, you pulled back far enough to whisper, “Take me to bed.” 

Frankie growled but didn’t move. “Are you sure?” He asked.

“Now.” 

Frankie smiled against your lips as he walked you backwards towards your room. You didn’t break contact, kissing, trusting that he knew where to lead you without running you into a door or a dresser. 

Inside your room, he didn’t bother to turn on the light. He kicked the door shut behind him and then he pushed you towards the bed. He broke away long enough to toe off his boots and pull his shirt over his head. 

You felt for him, little ambient light in the room enough to make out his outline. You would like the lights on but you liked the intimacy of the dark. Where you weren’t cataloging everything about him. Weren’t worried about how you looked or if he was enjoying himself. It had been months. Things changed. Affections changed.

You felt none of that in his arms. In the way he ripped off your tank and shorts. The way his thumbs lightly caressed your aching nipples. You gasped, loving the rough texture of his calloused fingers. A man that worked with his hands. There was nothing sexier. 

He moved on from your lips, giving you a breather, while he kissed down your jaw and neck. He hooked his fingers around your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one fell swoop. You could feel the slickness between your thighs already, turned on to the max. Your body needed and craved him. So much so, you had been doing a poor job of hiding it the past few months. Even your memories or fantasies were nothing compared to the real thing. 

You stepped out of your shorts and panties and Frankie pushed you onto the bed. He hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed, spreading you wider. Had the light been on, he’d see you closing your eyes and inwardly groaning. 

You didn’t know why you felt shy, only that you did. Only that this time felt different. In so many ways. Sex had never been a problem for you and Frankie. But this felt like more. Like when you first got together and all you wanted to do was explore each other’s bodies. 

“Shh, shh,” Frankie whispered. “You are gorgeous. Beautiful. Devastating,” Frankie whispered against your tummy as he kissed there. 

You giggled. How the hell did he know?

“I know you. Inside and out,” he said when you asked him. He kissed down your tummy as he knelt before you. He dragged his nose through your folds, inhaling. “Still smell so sweet. Tell me, did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asked.

You hesitated. Did you really want to admit that too? That you did but were unable to finish if he wasn’t there?

“Tell me, mi vida,” he said. He bypassed your pussy altogether, moving down to place kisses against your thighs. You sighed, body heating up to dangerous levels. You just wanted him to move, to touch you, to give you that relief you’d been craving for the past few months. 

“Yes,” you finally admitted. The word nearly scraped your throat on the way out. You wanted to fight and tease him. Be sexy. But you were just too damn horny to think correctly at the moment. 

“Did it help?” He asked. He got a teasing lilt in his voice that told you he was enjoying this. Enjoying dragging this out as much as possible. 

“Yes,” you said. That wasn’t technically a lie. It did help take the edge off. But only just. It seemed like once you gave up, you could get something that resembled sleep. But you didn’t really rest.

“Liar,” he said and bit your thigh. “Did you think of me while you touched yourself?”

“Always,” you moaned as he dragged a finger lazily up the center of you. He didn’t touch your clit, not yet. He only played with your pussy lips, gathering the essence that leaked out of you. 

“Tell me what you thought about,” he said. He placed his free hand on your tummy, splaying his fingers wide.

“Frankie…” you sighed. 

“Tell me. I won’t say it again,” he said. His voice dropped, turning into that sexy, sleepy, bedroom voice of his that never failed to make your eyes roll back. Combined with the fact that you couldn’t really see his face, couldn’t gauge his emotions, could only rely on his voice, it turned you on in the best way possible. 

You swallowed around a dry patch in your throat. You were breathing so hard, it was tough to calm down long enough to tell him. “I thought about your hands. And how big they are. And how incredible they feel on me,” you said. 

Frankie hummed while he pushed his fingers through your folds, swirling his thumb around your clit. You gasped, moving your hips. But Frankie’s steadying hand on your stomach kept you locked in place. 

You moaned, back rearing off of the bed. “Keep going,” Frankie prompted.

“Your fingers…feel like heaven. I thought about you fingering me,” you said. 

Frankie kept his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles, while he pushed a finger inside of you. He grunted and a shudder seemed to run through him. “You’re so fucking wet, mi vida. Keep going, tell me how you really feel,” he said.

“I thought about you…tying me up. Tying me to the bed and leaving my legs free while you fuck me,” you said. The safety of the darkness let you unleash what you really wanted. Frankie had taken you in so many ways. You thought you’d be sick of it. Or craving something new. 

The opposite was true. You liked his mastery over you. The way he commanded and demanded, the way he gave orders and you followed, with a little mischievous resistance. You liked being at his mercy because you knew that he’d always protect you. 

You clenched around his fingers and Frankie cursed low, under his breath. “You want to be fucked?” He asked.

You nodded until you realized he couldn’t see you. “Yes, fucked,” you said. 

“What else do you need from me?” He asked. 

“I want you to hear your voice. I missed it. I want you to…tell me you missed me,” you said. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear it at the moment. After you kicked Frankie out, he respected it by keeping things civil as much as possible. You saw the lingering looks when you dropped off Inez, but you weren’t sure how he really felt.

“Oh, mi vida,” he sighed. He flipped his wrist and started fingering you in earnest. Before, it had been a slow glide, getting reacquainted with your pussy like the first time he came back from his tour overseas. This was something new entirely. He pumped his finger into you, adding a second and stretching you. 

“Oh, oh,” you moaned and grabbed hold of his wrist, feeling his muscles move beneath his skin.

“I have thought of nothing else but you. I’ve missed you so damn much, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t focus. I dreamt of you and hated when I had to wake up and discover you weren’t there,” he said. 

He curled his fingers in a come hither motion and you were exploding on the spot. His voice should be bottled and sold as the cure to any sexual ailment. With a few sentences, he had you going off like a bottle rocket. He whispered in Spanish while you floated in that gooey region in your mind, lost to pleasure. He continued to stroke that spot, wringing every last morsel of passion from you before he slowed down. 

You calmed down, throat raw from moaning, and panted. Frankie removed his fingers and he loudly sucked on them, tasting you. 

“There were too many nights that I stroked myself to thoughts of being welcomed back into your warm, wet heat. My hand was a poor substitute. Every day in the shower, I spilled into my hand wishing that I was spilling into your tight, little pussy,” he said. He kissed all around your pussy before planting a kiss on your clit. 

You moaned and writhed on the bed, picturing him in the shower glistening with water. Picturing him jerking himself to climax, lips parted, eyes tightly closed, the steam of the shower rising around him. Your pussy clenched just thinking of it.

“I dreamed of your taste, mi vida,” he said. He followed that sentence with a lick of his tongue. You jerked and moaned, hands flying to his hair and pulling. He growled, licking you again and causing you to pull harder. 

“Sweet fuck,” you moaned. 

Frankie stopped talking as he aggressively ate you out. Gone was the sweet, slow pace he set while he finger fucked you. His tongue moved around your clit, flicking and tasting, and teasing between his lips. 

You writhed and moaned, pushing at his head. It was too much. He grabbed your flailing hand and pinned it to the bed beside you. Your moans grew louder, more wanton, escaping your lips. You brought your other hand up and he only pinned that one as well. His big hands locked down your wrists, to the point that you couldn’t move an inch. God, you loved it.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on, cum on,” he encouraged in between licking and teasing you. You began to tense, crushing his head between your thighs. He kept going, licking and licking until you were a shaking, creaming mess before him. You managed to curb your moans, painfully aware that your daughter was just down the hall. But she slept like a rock, much like you. 

Frankie licked everything you gushed out. Like you were a little ice cream cone for him. He moaned into your pussy, finally dragging his lips away. You wondered if his jaw was soaked with your essence. You got your answer when he kissed both of your inner thighs, leaving wet spots behind. 

“So fucking pretty. So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered into your skin while he kissed up your tummy. He stood as he did so, moving to free himself of his jeans and briefs.

“Fuck, Frankie, I missed you. I missed you so fucking much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too. Let me come home. Let me stay,” he said.

“Stay, stay,” you said.

He stopped kissing you while he got to your titties. He kissed all around your nipples, bringing his hand up to play with your left one while he sucked on your right. 

“Frankie,” you chanted over and over again while he gave generous attention to your nipples. You played with his hair, with his broad shoulders. You ran your hands up and down his back, lightly dragging your nails across his skin. Overcome with the sudden need to mark him. To scratch him. To give him a physical mark and show it off to the world. That he was yours. Would always be yours. Forever and ever. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

You caressed his face, bringing him down for a kiss. “I love you,” you said against his lips. 

He slid in with one savage thrust and you dug your nails into his skin, sharply hissing as he stretched you to the max. Your legs shook from finally being full. You clutched Frankie to you while he thrust, picking up speed while he rammed into you, just as you asked. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. 

“Can’t. Last. Much. Longer,” Frankie said through gritted teeth. He dropped his head to your chest, lips finding your nipples once more as he thrust hard and fast, pummeling you, and eliciting so many moans and cries from your lips you had no hope of staying quiet now. 

He pulled out unexpectedly with a groan. You whined, until Frankie roughly flipped you over. He hiked your hips up, lining himself back up, and then slamming into you. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. He hit a sweet spot deep inside you that made you see stars as you came. 

Frankie slammed into you, chasing his own orgasm as you squeezed and convulsed on his dick. You didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed. There were just the stars flashing in the darkness, a burrowing sense of relief that flooded your system and made you collapse. 

His fingers dug into your hips painfully while he continued to fuck you, your essence making it a smooth glide. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing in the dark room. He slammed harder, your ass making a delicious clapping sound on his thighs.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” Frankie chanted. It was punctuated with him thrusting one last time, so deep inside of you, while he groaned and climaxed. He seemed to swell inside of you, filling in any remaining space if there was any. His cum pulsed, hot and sticky, shooting out of him and filling you to the brim. So much so that the moment he moved, it leaked out of you. 

He pulled out completely and dropped beside you with a heavy, panting sigh. Your hips dropped to the bed, completely spent and worn out. That was what you had been missing. Your fingers or vibrator couldn’t reach as far as he could. They couldn’t talk and stimulate both your mind and body. You had tried listening to old recordings of his voice and it wasn’t the same.

Frankie tucked himself against you. You laid on his bicep while he curled his arm around you. His fingers trailed along your back and you hummed, snuggling closer. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

The end.

Frankie will be back! The Secret Frankie Morales Files

[pedroshotwifey]

*looks around and slides money on the table* 💵

Frankie Morales and number 10

I apologize to Frankie because he’s a sweet polite broad bean who’s respectful and always asks. I…would like him not to. 👀

Reader: plus size female (because I’m in full self-indulgent delulu mode)

Also I’m kinda not sorry because side why else would you have the title of the p**** eating king Morales? Huh? Huh? 😵 Sir. 👀

Anyway. I’m gonna stop rambling now. Thank you. 🥰

*Snatches money and stuffs it into pocket*

Yeah, alright. I got the goods. (I fucking love this.)

Hope you enjoy your face sitting with the p**** eating king! 😉

Rating: Explicit

W/C: 1.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!plus size!reader

A Real Man

“What the fuck do you mean you’ve never sat on someone’s face before?” 

You wince at the words coming out of Frankie’s mouth. Was it really that big of a deal? 

The two of you are sitting in bed, facing the TV that Frankie just paused. Well, it’s not like the two of you were really watching it anyway. You’d started talking halfway through the movie, and you’re not really sure how you got to this point in the conversation, but here you are.

“I-I don’t know. I just…haven’t.” You avoid his gaze as your cheeks heat, unsure of why you feel so ashamed to have admitted that. Maybe it was more of a common thing than you had thought. 

“But you’ve been in relationships before?” Frankie says it like a question, but he knows that you have. 

“Well, yeah, but. I don’t know, we just didn’t do it!” You don’t know why you’re getting frustrated with this. 

Frankie huffs a laugh and shakes his head. 

“What kind of an idiot wouldn’t offer themselves up to a goddess like you?” 

“You haven’t!” you point out. It’s a bit unfair of you since the two of you have only been officially dating for a couple of weeks and haven’t done too much sexual exploration yet. You’ve known him for much longer though, having grown up with him, and you’re not going to deny hearing…rumors of his skills. 

He gives you a pointed look, knowing that you know that’s an unfair accusation. You groan and put your hands over your face.

“My last boyfriend offered, but he seemed like he didn’t really want to. So I told him I would suffocate him, and he agreed with me.” It’s muffled through your hands, and the last part is near incomprehensible with how quietly you say it. 

“He what?” Frankie sits up a bit, and you peek at him through your fingers. “Honey, I hate to tell you, but that boy was a fucking idiot.” 

You sigh and shake your head. Like you didn’t know that already. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

Your hands fall from your face as you jolt up. 

“What? No!” 

“Yes. You’re going to sit on my face so I can show you what it’s like to be with a real man.” 

“Frankie, no, I–” 

“Clothes. Off. Now.” 

You gulp at the way his eyes darken and his voice deepens. Deciding it’s better just to listen to what he says, you slide down off the bed and start to tug off your clothes with shaky hands. You glance at Frankie as you push your pants down, watching the way he hungrily licks his bottom lip as you unveil more and more skin. 

You stop once you’re down to your bra and panties, another protest on the tip of your tongue. But Frankie’s quick, and he knows your antics. 

“Keep going. I don’t want to hear it.” 

You purse your lips but undo your bra all the same, tossing it to the side and revealing your breasts to your boyfriend. You can feel the wetness between your legs as you peel your panties off, making your face flush again. 

“C’mere.” 

It’s not a request, and your body responds to it before you can think about it. You stop in front of him, his hands coming to settle on your plush hips. His eyes drag up the length of you, slowing as they pass your heavy breasts. 

“Fucking gorgeos, amor.” 

He starts to pull you back onto the bed with him, leading you to climb over him as he lays down. You stop at his waist, feeling the way his bulge presses up against the fabric of his sweats. 

“C’mon, baby. All the way up.” 

You swallow but follow his instruction, trying and failing to avoid his lust fueled gaze. You stop again right at his chest, and he suddenly wraps his arms around your thick thighs to pull you to his face, making you fall over him and plant your hands on the bed above his head. 

“Frankie, be careful!” you scold, sitting back up on your knees. You look down at him, seeing his pupils completely blown. 

“Take a seat hermosa,” he instructs, completely ignoring your outburst. 

You start to lower yourself down, hovering just over his mouth. You’re about to ask him one more time if he’s sure, and then he pulls you all the way down, making you yelp as your pussy comes into contact with his unrelenting mouth. 

He immediately gets to work on licking stripes up and down your cunt, and you scream out his name. He’s eaten you before while you were on your back, but holy fuck. It didn’t feel like this. 

He groans into you as he slips his tongue inside your weeping hole, licking up all that he can. Your hand threads through his curls as your hips jolt involuntarily at the feeling. Your head is already starting to go blank as a pressure builds in your abdomen. 

His tongue fucks in and out of you as he simultaneously slurps up your juices. You moan obscenely, tugging on his hair as you ride his face. He whimpers at the pull, and you already know his hips are bucking up into nothing. 

He’s fucking feral, licking and fucking and groaning and whimpering. After a moment, he pulls his tongue back and shifts to take your clit between his full lips, sucking harshly. Your legs begin to tremble as your orgasm gets closer, and Frankie holds you even closer, his fingers leaving indents on your thighs as he squeezes your flesh. His tongue flicks over the swollen bud, and you’re done for. 

“Oh, fuck, Frankie!” you cry out as you come on him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’re vaguely aware of the way you’re clenching his hair in a way that has got to be painful, but you don’t have enough control to release your grip. 

He keeps moving through your orgasm, letting go of your clit to trail back to your hole, drinking everything up as he moans. Your body tenses and shakes violently as you focus solely on the pleasure of it. 

You’re panting as you come down, your body leaning back over his, weak from the force of the orgasm he just gave you. You feel his grip loosen on your thighs, and you take the opportunity to roll off of him and lay down on your back beside him. 

You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, breathing heavy as you look at eachother. You trade a shaky laugh, completely blissed out from whatever the fuck that was. 

“Thank you baby,” you say, unsure if you can find the words to explain to him how mind-blowing that was. 

“Shit, thank you,” Frankie responds. 

“It wasn’t too much then?” you ask, doubt creeping back into your mind despite what just transpired. 

“It was fucking perfect baby. I can prove how much I liked it if you really need.” He sounds almost bashful at this admission, and you’re confused for a second before you look down and see the dark stain in his pants. 

You laugh at him, almost impressed that he managed to come untouched. 

“No, I believe you.”

*****

Here’s the link to the prompt list if anyone else would like to request 🫶

[blackwidownat2814]

I need this.

Coming Soon

Frankie Morales x Plus Size f! Reader

You’ve always felt insecure about your body, especially since your last relationship. It isn’t until you meet Frankie that you wonder if there is more to life than worrying about your appearance. He tells you he loves your body, worships it, and makes you feel things you've never felt before. Can you finally feel confident in your own skin? Can you finally break free from your body-hating demons and let yourself love who you are?

Rated Mature

Brought to you by an ask that I took off the hands of @musings-of-a-rose

Follow @theewokingdeadwrites to receive a notification when the fic goes live

**Reader is plus-size female with stretch marks and cellulite but is otherwise not described

[baronessvonglitter]

October's on it's way out the door.. however Fuck-tober is still going on!

Here are the fics written so far 😊

Do You Wanna Touch Me? ~ Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader ~ by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Let's get it on ~ Lucien Flores x afab!reader x Frankie Morales ~ by @itwasntimethatdidit40

May Contain Some Artificial Sweeteners ~ Tim Rockford x OFC Leanne, OFC Jane Nebble ~ by @inept-the-magnificent

my skin in your teeth ~ neighbor/boyfriend Frankie Morales x f!reader ~ by @joelalorian

Needed Me ~ Javi P x f!reader ~ by @sunshinehaze1

S & Miller ~ Jackson Era Joel Miller x Sex Worker - Dominatrix Plus Size Female Reader ~ by @everybodylovedcontractors

What's Love Got to Do with It ~ Oberyn x f!reader ~ by @almostempty

These are all great, fun reads and I highly encourage everyone to check them out, like, comment, reblog! There are more fics to come and I will update as necessary 🖤

[nerdieforpedro]

Nerdie’s Fanfic Picks - Volume Seven!

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. YOU are in charge of your own reading experience!

1. Cuz I love you series (three parts) by @fhatbhabiee (DBF Joel Miller x reader)

2. Afterward - Chapter One by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Moreno x female reader)

3. Helpful not so Helpful Guide to Jake Johnson by @soft-persephone

4. A Gift of Life and Joy by @prolix-yuy (Javier Gutierrez x plus size female reader “Conejita)

5. Where the Wild Things Are by @fhatbhabiee (Jack Daniels x reader)

6. Teach You Patience by @frenchiereading (Frankie Morales x ofc)

7. In Bloom by @maggiemayhemnj (AU Ezra x GN reader)

8. Easy Access by @laurfilijames (Will Miller x female reader)

9. Drabble #4 by @drabblesandsnippets (Bucky Barnes x plus size reader)

10. Please Mr. Postman by @legendary-pink-dot (Sleezy mailman Joel Miller x female reader)

11. Afterword - Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Moreno x f! Reader)

12. Sleep Tight Love by @superhoeva (Captain John Price x female reader)

13. Obligation by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (Joel Miller x f reader) both are older

14. Barking up the Wrong Tree - Chapter One and Chapter Two by @connectioneverywhere (Frankie Morales x f! Reader)

15. Obscenery by @sin-djarin (Tim Rockford x Dave York)

16. Fifteen hundred and one by @undercoverpena (Frankie Morales x f! Reader)

17. Friendly Face by @sunshineandspencer (Aaron Hotchner x fem receptionist)

18. Pretty Please by @baronessvonglitter (QZ Joel Miller x bookworm f! Reader)

19. It’s lonely at the end of the world (until it’s not) by @guessimwritingficsagain (Joel Miller x f! Reader) Mention of SA and mental trauma

20. Chapter 1 Howdy, Neighbor! by @inept-the-magnificent (Frankie Morales x Shelby plus size OFC)

21. A kind of look by @sunshineandspencer (Spencer Reid x fem BAU reader)

22. Worth A Thousand Words by @intoanotherworld23 (Joel Miller x f! Reader)

23. Raining in Baltimore by @schnarfer (Marcus Pike x f! Reader)

24. Fifteen Minutes by @whocaresstillthelouvre (Din Djarin x f! Cam reader AU)

25. Bunny - One Shot by @whatsnewalycat (Javier Peña x f! Reader)

Nerdie’s Fanfic Picks

Main Masterlist

[missredherring]

Penguin Fic Covers

I have been loving seeing everyone's fic covers. It's really interesting to try and distill a fic into one image.

Thank you to @schnarfer @ghotifishreads @maggiemayhemnj and @arcanefox207 for tagging me!!!

Thank you so much @saradika for sharing this template with us all! I'm loving seeing all the book covers.

Highway Honey Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Wrong Until You Make It Right Joel Miller x Plus Size!F!Reader

Someone Who Calls Me Baby Dieter Bravo x Javi Gutierrez

An Act of Kindness Eddie (BTVS) x Fat!F!Vampire!Reader

Fool's Gold Maxwell Lord x Fat F!Reader

NPT: lbr: I can't keep track of who's done what at any point. If you've seen this trend on your dash and have wanted to do it and have been waiting for a tag, this is it!!! Have some fun and let me seeeeeee! <3

[ashleyfilm]

ashleyfilm - Writing Masterlist

HI! Here's a masterlist of my writings, it's only two stories so far but figure I should go ahead and start building this. Everything I write has cursing and smut so beware and Minors GET OUT OF HERE.

Joel Miller:

Seeing Clearly - Joel Miller x Female Plus Size OC Reader Series - Main Story Complete

Frankie Morales:

I'm Yours - Frankie Morales x Female Reader One Shot for the Roll-a-Trope Challenge

Dave York:

The First Morning with Dave York - Dave York x Female Reader One Shot

Ezra from Prospect:

WIP - Coming Soon

[pedrospatch]

❄️ joelsgreys weekly recap ❄️

sooo this was supposed to be done yesterday, but it’s fine. also when i do these, i’m going to try and be more organized with it like putting fics into categories…probably by character? idk we shall see what works out best. this a long one btw.

🔥 indicates smut, please be sure to heed all tags/warnings by the author, all blogs and works are 18+ only, MINORS DNI.

Joel Miller

Medicine by @goodwithcheese

Joel Miller x GN! Reader

Summary: I don't know. It's just a thing, y'all. (lol ily Megan)

Nourish by @goodwithcheese

Joel Miller x GN! Reader

Summary: Just a little domesticity.

Candy Girl by @kiwisbell 🔥

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: please see author warnings and tags. But let me tell you rn this one had me sweating you won’t regret reading it. 😵‍💫

good to me by @swiftispunk 🔥

part two

Gyno!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: with your usual doctor out, you're stuck having to get your routine pap smear done by the gorgeous dr. miller.

his favorite girl, part ii by @cupofjoel 🔥

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: keeping things professional only works if both parties are in agreement. after a heated first lesson, it's clear you and joel aren't.

Don’t Let This Darkness Fool You by @cowgurrrl

Summary: Joel's journey to sobriety.

Deliver Me From Nowhere Chapter Eight by @atinylittlepain

Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: No summary, please see author warnings and tags.

Sticky by @ezrasbirdie 🔥

Joel Milller x Female Reader

Summary: You send Joel a new toy to keep him occupied while you're away.

crystal by @ezrasbirdie

Joel Miller x Witchy!Female Reader

Summary: Joel's live-in girlfriend is a little witchy. It takes some getting used to.

but you know the killer doesn’t understand part ll and part lll by @morning-star-joy 🔥

Joel Miller x Neighbor! Female Reader

Summary: You're Joel's new next-door neighbor when he settles in Jackson, and you're determined to add some positivity to the grumpy old man's life. When Joel meets you, he knows right away he's fucked.

Distraction by @psychedelic-ink 🔥

Woodshop Teacher! Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

meet me in the woods chapter one by @pedgito

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: The night of your arrival is anything but what you expected, realizing that not only was your cabin double-booked but the unexpected guest is more than willing to leave you stranded to savor his peace. A handful of stubborn talks and a big decision later, you realize that Joel might not be that much of a stranger at all.

Frankie Morales

Two Minutes by @agentmarcuspike 🔥

Frankie Morales x Dominatrix (Ex! Reader)

Summary: after breaking up with you on a self sabotaging whim, frankie finds his way back into familiar arms to cope.

sweet treat by @mrsmando

Frankie Morales x Plus Size! Female Reader

Summary: you’re a waitress at your local diner, and a group of ex-delta force operators are your favourite customers. turns out, you like one of them a whole lot more than the rest.

Mike Schmidt

waiting to spill by @cupofjoel 🔥

Mike Schmidt x Female Reader

Summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving.

divider credit @saradika-graphics ❄️

[the-blind-assassin-12]

12-A-Palooza Masterlist

Still cannot quite fathom there being over 1200 of you following this blog, but still just as grateful for you all! I was hoping for 12 requests and you guys went for it and came up with 14 - and I’m gonna do ‘em all.

1200 words for 1200 followers:

Every Color Illuminates - Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Ready to Hope - Marcus Pike x Female Reader

It Pours From Your Eyes - Joel Miller x Tess Servopolous

It’s Always The Same - Jack Daniels x Female Reader

Strong Enough to Stand - Joel Miller x Female Reader

Somewhere Between Sorrow & Bliss - Jack Daniels x Female Reader

So Darkness I Became - Din Djarin x Female Reader

The Purest Element - Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

If This One Wasn't Enough - Ezra x Female Reader

Quiet & Still - Din Djarin x Female Reader

As Clear As Day - Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Better Than None - Joel Miller x Female Reader

To Fall At Your Feet - Din Djarin x Plus Size!Female Reader

Helpless Optimism - Javi P. x Female Reader

EVENT COMPLETE

[just-here-for-the-moment]

I spun the wheel and got Frankie Morales/PV

(does a happy dance) maybe something with a plus size reader? Smutty and sweet, reassuring her he thinks she's gorgeous and sexy even if she's a double-digit size?

Oh my gosh I am so excited to write this up, AND I get very excited when I meet new Tumblr friends. Thank YOU for sending this in and for helping me celebrate 300 followers! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Here’s Frankie Morales with some real sweetness for his plus-sized honey, and some soft/smutty P/V sex under the cut!

(Fic Warnings: talk of plus-size body insecurity; unprotected P/V sex in the context of an established relationship)

Frankie Morales hadn’t had a lot of softness in his life. Circumstances outside of his control and some of the choices he had made in life meant that he’d endured hard things: hard men and hard floors and hard choices and hard losses. So when he returned to civilian life and started to rebuild, he wasn’t looking for softness, he thought the most he could expect, the most he could reasonably ask for was just the absence of ‘hard’... and then he met you. And you? You were soft in all of the ways that he needed, in all of the ways that it counted for him. And Frankie almost didn’t make that connection until a good while after you had been dating, when you were sleeping over at his place more often and he got to wake up next to you every weekend...

Frankie’s eyes popped open at 6:00 every morning, without an alarm, whether he wanted them to or not. And since you were more of a night owl it meant that he could watch you sleep, watch your soft lashes lay against your cheeks, watch your soft lips twitch in a secret kind of smile, watch the sheen of a little bit of drool catch the soft morning light (something you hated, but that Frankie found charming). He propped himself up on an elbow and lay on his side facing you, watching the light change as the sun crawled up and filtered through his curtains.

He watched your pillowy breasts beneath the thin material of your camisole rise and fall with your kitten-light breathing, just taking in the miracle of you being there with him, and then it hit him all at once: how soft you were, and how much he had missed that in his life. Not just in the times where he had known softness and lost it, but also in all of those alternate dimensions where a different choice might have led to a different life, and he suddenly ached for losing things he had never actually known. And then it occurred to Frankie that if anyone would understand what he was feeling it would be you, and that you would probably already know the Japanese term or some long German compound word for that feeling of “missing something you never had but wanted desperately.”

The ache of it made Frankie want to lean over and kiss you, but he wanted to let you sleep. So he reached out his free hand and draped it over your waist, just above where the curve of your belly met your hips, and he slid his broad hand up under the edge of your camisole to rest his palm against your warm skin.

Frankie reveled in the two kinds of ‘softness’ there: the velvety-soft surface of your skin stretched over the ‘softness’ he would feel if he gripped you hard or pushed the pads of his fingers into the depth of your flesh. Frankie loved squeezing you and palming you and kneading into you with his hands, he loved the way he could grab you hard enough on your hip to feel your pelvis there, the firmness of it making an anchor for his hands as he pounded into you from behind.

Frankie fought the urge to squeeze you now. His fingertips tingled, and the inability to give into the sensation he sought made him clench his jaw, grind his molars together for a moment. A quick burst of sensation shot up his cheeks, and the phantom feeling of your flesh on his tongue as he gently squeezed his hands into you made him moan.

And then a third kind of softness occurred to Frankie as he kept his hand on you and felt you sleeping underneath him. You were soft enough to love him, to let him touch you, you were gentle with his heart and his emotions, you were sweet and kind, but not weak or a pushover. You came to him with your heart open and your eyes clear, and you faced him straight on as he took his time to dance around you, test your boundaries until he was sure you didn’t bite. And then he was all in.

And then Frankie realized a fourth kind of softness, one that he often had trouble acknowledging because he was reluctant to admit his good points: his own ability to love you back. To listen to how you responded when he touched you, to move his trigger-trained fingers slowly as he learned your curves. To kiss you with reverence and syrupy-slow admiration even when all he wanted to do was devour you whole and take you inside of himself, to swallow you up as a means of carrying your softness with him. He didn’t trust that he was soft enough or good enough when you weren’t around.

He lay in the pale morning light and marveled at how you had brought all of this softness into his life in just a few short months, tapping cracks and chinks into a hard shell he hadn’t even known was there. You didn’t offer him a tray overloaded with goodness and force him to take ‘too much’ or more than he was comfortable with - you simply slept softly next to him and let your floral scent and your warm smile and your feminine curves seep into his life, like a visitor slipping contraband sweets between the bars to a prisoner.

Frankie felt the urge to kiss you awake and this time he didn’t fight it. He simply shifted over to you and pressed his mouth to yours in a gesture of worship and devotion, and his heart stirred as he heard your breath rise and felt your gravelly murmur against his lips.

“Mmm,” you kissed him back and Frankie felt his heart open wide. It still amazed him every time you actually kissed back; he always half-expected a kick from life instead of a kiss. Your arm came up and around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft curls at the back of his head.

Your voice was low and gritty from sleep, and Frankie felt his cock twitch in his boxers. “Morn’ baby… what time is it?” You yawned and stretched and rolled facing away from him, tucking your hips back against his crotch with a wiggle. Frankie felt his breath catch and he resisted the urge to grind hard against you.

“Early,” he kissed you under your ear and murmured against your soft and sweet-smelling neck. “Early-early. Sorry I woke you up.”

You patted the back of his arm where it was wrapped tight around your belly. “S’okay, baby… dj’you sleep good?”

Frankie buried his nose further into your neck and inhaled deeply, taking in every part of you before he exhaled in a deep hum. “Yeah, you?”

You were almost asleep again, “Hmmm,” was all you could reply.

Frankie wrapped his arm tighter around your middle and pulled you back towards him.

“Baby, no,” you murmured. You reached down to his arm and pulled it looser, moving it to sling low across your hips. “Not my tummy.”

“Why not?”

“It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Did I squeeze you too hard? Are you gonna barf?” Frankie’s voice was laced with so much concern that you felt bad.

“No, baby, I just…” You trailed off, not sure how to tell the man who loved you that there was a part of yourself that you hated. Although maybe ‘hated’ was too strong a word, you mostly just ignored that part of your anatomy in favor of paying attention to your ‘better features’ like your boobs and your ass and your face. Would he even understand? Would any man?

You knew that Frankie had his own self-doubts, but they ran in the vein of existential and spiritual concerns, like whether his actions during his military service had completely destroyed his humanity or whether he was still a good person. Compared to that you felt vain and shallow, didn’t even dare voice to him how you felt about your ample belly or your waist or the way you hated how your arms looked in pictures. And it wasn’t even all the time, really.

Most of the time you were busy and happy and outgoing, and you delved so deeply into your work and your passions and your friends that the size tag in your jeans or which section of the store you had to shop in didn’t bother you. If you had to quantify it, you were pretty happy with your body about 95% of the time, but sometimes that 5%... it stung. And now you had the most gorgeous man in the world wrapped around you, and you couldn’t find the words to tell him that his big, warm hands on your belly made your skin crawl. Because how do you say that without hurting him?

You shifted and tried again, “I just, I don’t really like my tummy.” You bit your lip and stopped yourself from saying more.

“Really? Why not?” Frankie seemed genuinely confused, like you had just said you didn’t like puppies.

“I just don’t. Can we drop it?”

You rolled to face him again. Fuck it, might as well say everything, and to his face to boot. He looked concerned, head propped up on his elbow as he looked at you.

“Look, I’m just bigger, that’s all, and I don’t like my stomach. I hardly ever touch it and it feels weird letting you touch it.”

You saw his frown creep in between those soft brown eyes and you felt like a monster. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Frankie. I just don’t like it. It's my least favorite part of me.”

“Really? Because I love it.”

You searched his face for the punchline, waiting for him to make fun of your body or your insecurity. A heartbeat passed and you suddenly realized he was serious. “You what?”

“I love it. I love you.” Frankie leaned his head to kiss you softly and moved his hand up to your belly. “It’s part of you and I love you, so I love your tummy, too.”

“You do not.”

“Don’t tell me I do not, I do!” He flexed his fingers a bit to grip the soft mound just below your belly button and you fought the urge to grab his hand and pull it away. “I love this.”

Frankie laid a kiss to your lips and ran his hand down to your hip and squeezed softly, “And I love this.”

His hand continued its journey around to your ass, where he gripped a handful and squeezed hard. “And I love this.” He kissed you again.

Frankie ran his hand down the back of your thigh and flexed his fingers again, grabbing the softness just above the bend in your knee. Another kiss as he murmured to you, “And I love this.”

He brought his hand around to the front of your leg and trailed his fingers up to your panties, stopping to slide his middle finger between the V of your thighs. “And I love this.” He kissed you again, open-mouthed and a little longer this time.

He pulled his finger out and ran the broad flat of his palm up your abdomen, “And don’t forget that I love this part, it’s very important that you remember that. Okay?” He kissed you again.

Your voice sounded high and breathy to your own ears when he pulled away, “Okay.”

Frankie skated his hand up to your breasts and gave each one a reverent squeeze, “And I looove these.” He kissed you again, tongue probing your mouth for reassurance.

He walked his fingers up to your jaw and cupped it, looking deep into your eyes. “You hear me, beautiful? I love all of you. You’re sweet and you’re kind and you’re smart. You love me and I love you.” He pressed his forehead to yours and hummed contentedly. “You’re not allowed to hate any part of yourself while I’m around, got it?”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Good.” Frankie pulled away and then rolled you onto your back. He kneeled and reached for the waistband of your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs. “Can I show you how much I love you?” He grinned, flashing that dimple in his scruff, plush lips curving up boyishly. You loved him with all your heart.

“Yes, Frankie baby… show me.”

He pulled your panties off your ankles and then pulled his boxers off. His thick cock was half hard, and you watched with lust as he gripped it and pumped himself until he was full. You longed to feel every inch of him all at once, in your mouth and your pussy and your hands. You moaned at the ache and the wet that were surging through your core. You opened your legs wider for him, dizzy with anticipation.

Frankie lowered himself, bracing above you on one arm as he used his other hand to guide his firm head to your entrance. You felt him tip his cock, running it along your seam to gather your slick, spreading your wetness around. It was a kind of delicious torture, the waiting and the anticipation of him plunging in, and the way that he felt so good just rubbing his cock against your throbbing clit. Back and forth, up and down he went, until you wanted to wiggle and whine at the emptiness of your throbbing cunt.

He finally lined up and thrust himself inside of you. You threw your head back and moaned at his intrusion, at the way he filled you up and pumped himself in, hitting that just-right spot of you behind your pubic bone; the deep spongy spot that felt like he was hitting the back of your throat with every thrust.

Frankie hitched one of your legs up over his hip and rocked even deeper into you. He leaned down over your face and kissed you deeply, reverently; like he was trying to take you completely into himself and not lose a single moment with you. You forgot to breathe for a moment until Frankie pulled back and thrust his hips into you just so and looked deeply into your eyes. You drowned in his deep brown orbs, and then he did it again, that little rock of his hips that finally pulled a gasp from your lungs and then you remembered how to breathe again.

“I love you, Frankie. I love you, I love you I love you I love you.” Your words ran together in a babble and you would have kept going except that Frankie plunged his head down to take your tongue into his mouth and you thought you’d cry from the closeness of it all.

He pulled his mouth off and rested his forehead against yours, running one big hand down to pull the back of your knee up higher. You looked deep into his eyes and melted completely as he whispered to you. To you and only you, and it was just you and Frankie, hearts thrumming together as you lurched from one moment to the next...

“I love you.”

[geminimoonbeamx]

You can blow what’s left of my right mind(I don’t mind)

A/N: As usual, I'm two days late. But here she is. Writing this his reignited my love for Pedro Pascal in ways that are hard to describe. Please read @allaboardthereadingrailroad sister story and thank her for always dealing with my fuckery. Also GBB: Great British Bake-off. duh lol

Warning: Smut, Oral(femal receiving), Drug use. The very vague, brief mention of homie hopping. Minor mentions of infidelity at the end.

Pairings: Frankie “Catfish” Morales X Plus Sized Reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you fully accept the prospect of being alone forever. One spontaneous barbeque and a joint rolled by the handsomest man you’ve ever met later and you're reevaluating that notion.

You deserve your fate, re-downloading Bumble had been an offense against your carefully routine therapy schedule. 

The date had been trash, but you could’ve guessed that. No need for a crystal ball or the stack of tarot cards that had become a staple party trick of yours in college. Another limp dick banker, six figures and no people skills. Gag. 

You ponder your shitty decision making skills, hand on your hip, as you stare down the long aisle. Fluorescent and distorted, wine or something hard? What pairs well with leftover tiramisu. You reach for your phone as it dings in your bag:

Huh.

Tequila it is. 

-------

Realtor Tom, as he’d been dubbed months ago, had finally closed on the property next door. Condo, beach front, wrap around porch. You have no idea how it could’ve taken it him so long to close on it but as you arrive, you congratulate him all the same- 

Exchanging the crystalline bottle for a heavy plate, steaming, fresh off the fire. 

It’s just something small and intimate, his celebration. 

The porch lights are dim, music hums and the grill is worked by seasoned hands as the moon shines brightly down on the crashing waves in the distance. .

It’s you and Claire and a handful of Tom’s oldest friends, military men. Brothers. All that macho we almost died together and now live in each others back pockets bullshit that you think is just a skewed version of your grandmothers book club. 

The stories they tell almost seem lifted straight off a page, carefully crafted. Pieces clearly cut away for you and Claire’s benefit. The bloody kind, you figure. A shame really, you like your gossip like you like your steak- medium rare. Raw and almost unpalatable. 

Men suck, as a whole. But former military men with jawlines that could cut diamonds? Yeah, you could stomach that. Work with it even.

The golden boy with the right dash of middle america and bright blue eyes, Will- right? He’s your usual type. 

Unfortunately not all that in interested in you though as far as you can tell. 

Pope’s darkly handsome with black hole vortex like charm, a gaping maw with salt and pepper hair. Your daddy issues are screaming-

Claire weaves and bobs through conversation with skill- honed in on a target that you don't think Benny, the little brother who likes to box, has caught on to yet. With his eager eyes and booming laughter he obviously still thinks he’s in the game. 

Her daddy issues are worse than yours.. 

“You wanna hit this?” 

It comes from beside you. Frankie’s hand is outstretched, a freshly rolled joint in between his long fingers.

“Greens? For little ol’ me? Thanks, you’re a real gentleman” You tease, grinning as you take it. It’s clean work, pretty as shit and pulls perfect. You hold his gaze, just for a moment as you suck on the end. 

You hadn't been sure about him, hours ago. Tall, lanky, donned in Hawaiian tropic and a baseball cap.

Catfish, Frankie, is a pilot. Contracted through some government agency since he retired from the military. You think he’d be a great commercial pilot, cute little helicopter flights for rich fucks over the bay, turtle island. His easy humor would win ‘em all over. You’d be his first client, he could take you out anytime. 

“Yeah, you want me to take you flying?” He grins, tips his beer. Entertaining the idea. 

“What girl wouldn't?” You counter “I mean, heights aren't really my thing but if the pilot was good enough, sure. I’d be game” 

He shakes his head, playing it cool. Yeah, whatever you want, just tell him when.

Is there certain terminology for flight head or would that just fall under the blanket statement of joining the mile high club?-

You reach over to hand the joint to Claire, the dim fairy lighting hitting her dark eyes just right. A smug, knowing gleam aimed right at you. 

The night bleeds away and the shots of tequila start to lose their sting. 

Everything is warm, the sticky Floridian heat doesn't dwindle, not at all phased by the mid October time stamp. You glow, alcohol fueled, from the inside out. You know these guys better now, these near strangers feel inner circle close, 

But maybe, it's just because you’re sitting in a circle? 

Or maybe it's because that expensive bottle you’d brought, Tom’s gift, is long gone. The sketchy little decanter Santiago brought- the one with a distended scorpion that came straight from the Motherland is getting there too. 

Clear liquor is thicker than blood, or whatever that saying is. 

Will bows out first which, surprise surprise. Who has to work on a Sunday? Tom soon after, toting a stumbling old country song singing Benny- 

“Last time I let you crash at one of my properties, I was left scrubbing who know’s what the fuck off the the three thousand dollar couch. Get your ass up” 

And then there were four. 

Pope insists that it’s in poor taste not to finish this particular bottle, bad luck. 

You know what else is bad luck- hangovers. You’re out, its been fun and real and real fun. 

You’re not expecting Claire to leave with you, because you know- the daddy issues. And the liquor tolerance of steel. 

You remind her to lock the door when she gets home, she’s on Buttercup duty in the morning too, still drunk or not. 

“I think i'm going to head out, too, man” Frankie announces, standing just after you and your stomach erupts into butterflies. “I’m too old for this shit” 

They, Frankie and Pope, exchange words in spanish. Embracing. Laughing. 

You and Claire exchange words, silently. Telepathically. All eyes and vibes. 

The verdict is clear;

Use protection. 

----------

You’ll walk him to his car you offer and he chuckles, will do you one better and walk you to your door. All of fifteen feet away. 

The night can end here and it still would have been good, beautiful even. Far removed from the horrible date, but you? 

Make bad decisions. Tequila addled or not.

 You reach for his hand, twining your fingers in between his and tugging. Staring up at him with want, bare and vulnerable, written all over your face. 

“Come home with me?” 

Frankie looks like he might say no. Like there's something on the tip of his tongue that you have no desire to unearth, something that should dictate a hard decline. Like he should utter the words that will end the night-

But he doesn't want to. You can tell. 

You tug him all the way up the the porch stairs.

Fumbling not to let go as you fiddle with the key, the moment the door swings open its like a switch has been flipped. He’s turned on. A squeal breaks free as as he crowds you in all body and warmth and close, close, close head spinningly fast. 

He kicks the door shut with the heel of his heavy boot. 

--------------------------

You don't do one night stands. 

Not because of morality or maturity or lack- but because they’re unpredictable. The few you;d had had fallen on the spectrum of either holy fuck wow, or never, ever, again, 

Frankie sits in his own bracket-

A peel of laughter breaks out of you as he runs his bearded face across your neck, into the sensitive skin behind your ear.

He’s fun, playful. It doesn't feel like a performance, him touching you. He digs his fingers in to feel. He runs his tongue across what he wants to taste- he’s not against lighting up another spliff.

 The plumes of smoke pass between your mouths in hot kisses and coughed fits of giggles. 

“That did not happen” You accuse, sprawled out on the couch. Your hair fanned across a throw pillow, silky slip of a top long gone as Frankie sits between your bare spread thighs. 

“It did- and that shit’s prosecutable in most third world countries” He informs lightly in all seriousness, the two very different tones existing harmonious as he husks it in your ear.

 Playful, all fun, until he's kissing down your chest. Wet and scorching, 

It feels good, the drag of prickly facial hair over all that soft supple skin. Hypersensitive, you arch into his mouth when his teeth catch on your nipple, just on the right side of pain. He’ll stop, the soothing lave of his tongue makes that clear.

 You knot your fingers in his thick black hair and push him deeper into your chest. 

He’s attentive, so much so that it’s almost odd. He just met you not even six hours ago and he’s treating you so nice- it must be his kink or something. Oral fixations. He doesn't want to pull away, his mouth slams back to yours after every minor disconnection. 

He has to yank his shirt over his head? Kiss- has to shimmy his jeans down his long legs? He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth the moment they’re off. You smile into each one. 

“You wanna fuck me, Frankie?” You whisper into his mouth because he’s so hard and hes rocking into you, nudging against lace“You can have it, what ever you want” 

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice, or so you learn. “Whatever he wants”, you’d offered. Thought he’d slip your panties to the side, pound into you. Condom first of ofcource, youre not that fuck dumb yet- but there he goes with that mouth again. Down, past your sternum and belly button and the round curve of your stomach and oh, there goes your panties- 

Fuck. 

He shoulders his way right where he wants to be, face first between your legs, “Right here baby, keep ‘em right here' ' because hes slim but far from weak and you’re going to wrap your thighs around his ears whether you want to or not.This is the good stuff, the kind of stuff that blocks out all the ugly shit he’s seen and the bad things he’s done. It’s white noise, peace and he goes down you like he’s dying for it. 

Fucks his tongue into you in a way that makes you whine. All men(boys not included) like eating pussy, in theory. Only a select few of them love it, 

Frankie Morales loves that shit. 

Your eyes roll as his nose nudges your clit and what’s that quote about big noses? Its messy, overly wet and yeah, sloppy but who cares. The squelch and slurps make you shiver because what the hell? You were not expecting this. You nearly lurch right off the couch when his fingers join in because wow yeah you knew g spot orgasms were a thing but this is something else completely. 

He doesn't stop until it hurts. Until your muscles burn and his jaw is threatening to lock. Until you're begging him to let you ride him, using the back of the couch to bounce in his lap in a way that's truly impressive. Your pilates instructor would be so proud of your muscle elasticity. 

The two of you are barely human Jell-o after. When you offer your bed for the night, he doesnt have the energy to decline. 

----------

The sun is bright in the sky by the time Frankie gets his shit together, clothes pulled on and out of your wildly comfortable bed. He tells you he’s leaving, kisses your cheek- even when you groan and push him away, burrowing deeper into your comforter. He debates on waking you up, on chicken scratching a note with his information-

No numbers will be exchanged, no promises of next time.

It’s for the best, less messy. He tries to comfort himself with this facts as he trudges down the stairs.

He’s head pounds with the beat of his heart and he could throttle Pope for pressing those last few shots. Too old, not young enough to deal with mornings after anymore- 

“Good morning” 

Claire stands in the middle of the naturally lit kitchen, hair tied up neatly, donned in activewear. Her tawny complexion clear and unblemished. Not a dark circle in sight. 

A panting squirming mass bum rushes him and winds around his feet . Oh, Frankie remembers you putting a dog in their room last night. 

“Good morning, I was just going to head out-” 

“Ill walk you out- we were about to go for a run anyway. Buttercup, leash” Claire’s tone is cheerful, even. There’s no waver, nothing to prepare him for what comes next.

The moment the front door opens, they spill out onto the pristine lawn, and he’s heading for his truck-

“Oh and Frankie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Say hi to your wife for us” 

Read @allaboardthereadingrailroad sister story to find out what happened with Claire, Pope and that bottle: One Night Stand

[waywardimpalawriter]

Part 2

Book Boyfriend a Frankie Morales x Plus Size Reader fic Part two the final

Book Boyfriend

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size F! Reader

Characters: Frankie Morales, Reader, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, William “Ironhead” Miller, Ben “Benny” Miller, Isabella Morales (OC)

Setting: Two years after the events in Colombia (Triple Frontier)

Rating: R, NSFW

Warnings: Smut, Soft Frankie (yes that has to be a warning), cursing, teasing, unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), tooth rotting fluff, mixed with a little hurt/comfort, mention of abuse,

Word count: Part 1: 10,284, Part 2: 16,388 (sorry not sorry, I blame Frankie for the wordiness) 

Summary: You’ve been so engrossed in your currant book series its lead to Frankie feeling a little left out.  

Notes: This is my first Frankie Morales/Pedro Pascal Fic, so I’m hoping everyone loves it as much as I did writing it. Something a little fluffy I thought of while thinking of my own favorite book boyfriends. Using the translator Systran for my very bad Spanish translations. A grateful thank you to @icanbeyourjedi for helping me out with Frankie’s Dog tags.

Tag list: @manalg14​   @songbirdcannabe

From Part 1 

Finally, home from running errands and wrangling a very fussy Isabella though you couldn’t blame her really. Exhaustion setting into your very bones from running around town, stopping around noon at a play/girlfriend’s date. Talking with the girls as the kids played, laughing over the latest things their men have done and the newest book in the series everyones reading. Heat flared to life at the memory of Frankie from this morning during your talk when things turned towards the more intimate. Though you’d refused to share the details just saying he’s better than any book boyfriend you’ve read. Getting teased by your friends up until the moment you left for the grocery store with a very sleepy little girl in your arms. 

Keep reading

[wardenparker]

WardenParker’s Masterlist!

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This blog is 18+ ONLY but you’ll find ** below for pieces that contain explicit smut. Enjoy!

Pedro Pascal Characters, My Beloveds:

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales Triple Frontier

The Alewife Soulmate AU

“Together” Universe (Frankie x female Reader x Benny Miller): Better Together** Taking Care Together Waking Up Together** Celebrating Together** Together for Christmas

Flyboy**

Full Moon Fury** (Spooktober 2022)

Better Than a Date** (Frankie x reader x Santiago Garcia)

“I have no idea what you just said to me.” (Santi x reader x Frankie microfic)

Three’s Company, pt 1** (Joel x reader x Frankie) Three’s Company, pt 2**

Hurry Home** (Frankie x reader x Santiago Garcia)

The Stars Re-Align, part 1 The Stars Re-Align, part 2 The Stars Re-Align, part 3**

Frankie and Maggie Miller: Beach House Gone Fishin’

Marcus Pike The Mentalist

Ménage à Trois** (Marcus Pike x f!reader x modern!Oberyn Martell)

Sexus, Ars, Amor (Marcus Pike x f!reader x Ezra)

More Than Mistletoe** (Christmas fic!)

Starting Over

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3** Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7** Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Epilogue

Mother Knows Best**

First Christmas**

Hummingbird Has Landed (soulmate au): Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8** Chapter 9** Chapter 10 Chapter 11** Chapter 12** (explicit for complications of childbirth) Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15** Chapter 16 Chapter 17** Chapter 18 Epilogue

I’m Yours: (on hiatus) Prologue: Mondays Suck Chapter 1: Two Terrible Ideas Chapter 2: More Evil Than Genius

Agent Whiskey Kingsman: Golden Circle

A Second Chance at Love** A Second Chance at Love pt 2** A Second Chance at Life** (Jack Daniels x reader/Zach Wellison x f!OC)

Bad Moon Rising: pt 1** (Spooktober 2021) Bad Moon Rising: pt 2** (Spooktober 2021)

You, Me & Mexico**

Ghostly Touch** (Spooktober 2022)

Down the Rabbit Hole Soulmate AU

Win a Date with Javi G, pt 1 Win a Date with Javi G, pt 2**

New Year’s Surprise**

“Wait! Please don’t go!”/”There is no ‘us’.” (microfic) “Put me down!”/”Should we make it official?” (microfic, sequel to above)

A Night to Remember, part 1 (Titanic AU) A Night to Remember, part 2** A Night to Remember, part 3**

American as Apple Pie**

Oberyn Martell Game of Thrones

Ménage à Trois** (Marcus Pike x f!reader x modern!Oberyn Martell)

From Dorne, with Love (modern!Oberyn x female reader) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3** Part 4** Part 5 Part 6 Epilogue

The Viper’s Bride soulmate au (Oberyn x reader x Ellaria x male OC) Chapter 1** Chapter 2** Chapter 3** (Explicit for violence) Chapter 4** Chapter 5** Chapter 6** Chapter 7** Chapter 8** Chapter 9** Chapter 10** Chapter 11 Chapter 12** Chapter 13 Chapter 14** Chapter 15 Chapter 16** Epilogue

“Put me down!” microfic

Mysterious Masquerade, part 1 (Spooktober 2024) Mysterious Masquerade, part 2

Javier Peña Narcos

The Meeting Place (Javier Peña x reader x Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy)

Broken Road 

“There is no us.” (microfic)

If You Were Mine, pt. 1 If You Were Mine, pt. 2**

Night of the Living Wish** (Spooktober 2023)

“Should we make it official?” (microfic)

Bones Full of Words (soulmate au featuring plus size reader) Chapter 1** Chapter 2** Chapter 3** Chapter 4** Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8** (Explicit for violence) Chapter 9**  (Explicit for violence) Chapter 10** (Explicit for violence) Chapter 11** Chapter 12 Epilogue

Marcus Moreno We Can Be Heroes

Wish You Were Here Soulmate AU

The Date**

What are you doing here? (microfic)

What Happens in Vegas, part 1** What Happens in Vegas, part 2**

“I’ll protect you.” (microfic)

Ezra Prospect

Sexus, Ars, Amor (Marcus Pike x f!reader x Ezra)

Louder (microfic)

Dave York Equalizer 2

Table for Four** (Dave York x Carol York x f!reader x Quinn McKenna) Couch for Four 

Killer Writing Soulmate AU (Dave York x plus size reader)

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” (microfic)

Zach Wellison Brothers and Sisters

Once Upon a Time... (Zach Wellison x plus size reader)

A Second Chance at Life** (Jack Daniels x reader/Zach Wellison x f!OC)

Dieter Bravo The Bubble

You’re So Vain Soulmate AU

Surprising Reunions, pt 1** (Joel x Dieter x reader) Surprising Reunions, pt 2**

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams, pt 1** Bright Lights & Broken Dreams, pt 2** Bright Lights & Broken Dreams, pt 3**

Sweet Temptation**

Red Lipstick** (Spooktober 2023)

“I’m not getting you coffee, your order is ridiculous.” (microfic)

Pero Tovar The Great Wall

Sassenach and the Spaniard Soulmate AU: Chapter 1 Chapter 2** (E for references to assault) Chapter 3** (E for references to assault and violence) Chapter 4** Chapter 5** Chapter 6** Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9** Chapter 10** (E for violence) Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13** Chapter 14** Epilogue

“Does no one here know how to knock?” (microfic)

Baked in Soulmates** (Spooktober 2024)

Max Phillips Bloodsucking Bastards

Close Encounters of the Toothy Kind** (Spooktober 2022)

Vampire Waltz Soulmate AU: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8** Chapter 9 Chapter 10** (Explicit for violence) Chapter 11 Chapter 12** Chapter 13** Chapter 14 Chapter 15** Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Epilogue

Javi Gutierrez The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Redbox Romance** (Spooktober 2022)

Win a Date with Javi G, pt 1 Win a Date with Javi G, pt 2**

The King’s Queen (Royalty AU): Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8** Chapter 9

“Wait! Please don’t leave!” (Regency au microfic)

“I’ll protect you.” (microfic)

Joel Miller The Last of Us

“For” Series: For Pleasure** For Her For Protection** For Valentine’s Day**

“I thought you loved forehead kisses.”/”Put me down.” (microfic)

Surprising Reunions, pt 1** (Joel x Dieter x reader) Surprising Reunions, pt 2** Three’s Company, pt 1** (Joel x reader x Frankie) Three’s Company, pt 2**

Next to Normal, pt 1** (Explicit for references to violence) Next to Normal, pt 2** Next to Normal, pt 3**  (Explicit for references to violence)

“Put me down.” (microfic)

Detective Tim Rockford Merge Mansion

“You brought me flowers?” (microfic)

Private Dick**

“Wait! Please don’t leave!” (microfic) “I thought you loved forehead kisses.” (microfic, sequel to above)

Maxwell Lord Wonder Woman 1984

In the Heights, pt 1 In the Heights, pt 2**

Charlie Hunnam Characters, My Darlings:

Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller Triple Frontier

Love Potion Number 9 (Spooktober 2024)

Necessary Arrangements (Royalty AU) - On Hiatus: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Alan McMichael Crimson Peak

At First Sight

Boyd Holbrook Characters, My Sweets:

Steve Murphy Narcos

The Meeting Place (Javier Peña x reader x Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy)

Small Towns and Second Chances**

“I don’t need a roommate.” (microfic)

Quinn McKenna The Predator

Table for Four** (Dave York x Carol York x f!reader x Quinn McKenna) Couch for Four

Oscar Isaac Characters, My Dearests:

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia Triple Frontier

Summer Rose**

Better Than a Date** (Santi x reader x Frankie)

“I have no idea what you just said to me.” (Santi x reader x Frankie microfic)

Hurry Home** (Santi x reader x Frankie)

Garrett Hedlund Characters, My Dears:

Benny Miller Triple Frontier

“Together” Universe (Frankie x female Reader x Benny Miller): Better Together** Taking Care Together Waking Up Together** Celebrating Together** Together for Christmas

Mitch Keller Tulsa King

“Dance with me.” (microfic)