#frankie catfish morales/you

[juletheghoul]

I really want to breathe new life into this because the story is so fleshed out in my head and in further chapters there is some Orpheus and Eurydice Inspo that I really want to explore.

The Huntsman (Part 1)

A/N; So I had this idea for a story and it has completely overtaken my life- and for the first time I have a clear vision of where this story will go. I hope you enjoy this because I am super excited about it! Special thanks to @foli-vora & @wheresarizona for listening to me rant about this, and to @frannyzooey for being super supportive with all my insane ideas ♥️♥️♥️

Pairing; Hunter!Frankie x f!reader

Warnings; Supernatural elements - witches / dark deals and implied violence. (smut to come in future chapters) (dark religious themes) Somewhat enemies to lovers, reader is a witch (Lilith's daughter) I have tried to make reader as nondescript as I can, let me know if you find coded language.

Word count; 5K

reblogs are appreciated

———

Queen Amira sighed, her fountain of youth had dried up, and for the first time in eons, real panic was setting in. The witch she’d captured had lasted years, her power - her life had kept Amira young and beautiful. She already saw the signs of decay though, fine lines and a glimpse of her true age creeping in through the gray in her hair.

She had to move quickly, the shadow of her debt loomed over her now, bigger than before - the dark deal she’d made in the first days of her reign what felt like both ages and only moments ago. 

All was not lost, however, before the witch finally succumbed, she confessed her knowledge of another like her, more powerful than any she knew of, Lilith’s daughter. 

She knew who Lilith was, of course, or at least the legend of her. The woman created for Adam, who was spurned when she sought to be his equal and thus became the first witch in existence. She would have been quite the prize, but there was no trace of her. She was as, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, a phantom no one could find, let alone capture. Her daughter, however, she would do nicely.

This was now her prize, the ultimate tool to find Lilith and a way to finally keep the specter of death, of the end of her reign at bay; and she knew just who to send.

At times it felt like a game to see just how quick a person could avert their eyes - something to keep the mind occupied while the hands moved through the practiced movements. The men were always the quickest, whether their eyes were filled with anger or resentment, fear or sometimes hope - they never let you meet their gaze. The children were a little braver, foolish but brave, and you couldn’t help but admire that. 

“Will he survive?” This woman did not flinch away, her eyes were focused and clear, and although her hands trembled, she stood fast and held still while clasping the hand of her ill child. 

“He will, but it will not be easy for him, and a price must be paid.” The fire grew for a moment, a bright flash in the somber darkness of the small cottage. “Something must be offered for his life.”

And the offer must be accepted, but that’s another matter.

The mix of powders on your hand spread across his face and chest when you blew on them, a short burst of breath onto his pale face.

“Anything- just make him better.” The boy's hand was at his mother’s mouth, a kiss he didn’t feel pressed against his knuckles. 

“It will cost one year of life-” Her eyes widened. “From each of you.” The father’s eyes were on you now, and for a time, they were silent - the implications of your words, the price of their son’s health being weighed heavily. 

“I will pay it.” The father spoke first, his voice deep and steady. 

“As will I.” Tears shined on her face, both of them ready and willing to sacrifice what was necessary to save their child's life - you did your best to pin the bulk of your hair out of your face and very quickly got to work. 

-

The clearing where your home stood was a calm place most days, but today the air itself stood still, even the grass and bramble that moved and swayed with the wind like some green ocean seemed frozen, and you knew she was here. Always with the drama. 

The crows- Ivo and Magna flew past your head when you opened the door to your house, their wings batting at your head affectionately before making their place on their perch near your window. 

“Hello, Mother.” You leaned against the open doorway, watching as she came up the little path through the trees, a trail of smoke in her wake. 

“Hello, dear.” She smiled at you, perfect white teeth on display, a cheeky glint in her eye. “Have you been keeping up with your sight?” She was in a good mood. 

“Didn’t need to- you aren’t subtle; I could sense you a mile away - I think you do it on purpose.” You closed the door behind her. “You’ve caught me just getting home.” You busied yourself with the teapot- digging through your stores for the tea she liked-there it is.

“You know I like to pop around every now and then.” She straightened her skirts, pointedly avoiding your gaze, and you knew she’d been spying again. “Check in on the others.” You sighed loud before turning to face her.

“What did you see?” You brought the tea cups over to your table, lips pursed. She furrowed her perfect brow dramatically - mock outrage on her pretty features. 

“Such distrust! Can I not crave the company of my only daughter? Can I not have the innocent urge to check in on our little family?” She stared at you for a moment with her hand on her breast, but the facade was quickly dropped when you didn’t react. “Fine. Yes - I looked in on your future- someone has to!” She took a sip from her cup, ignoring your expression. 

“Mother, you cannot keep doing this.” She tutted while you spoke, an aggravating trait you’d been dealing with all your life. “You know I’ve never been as gifted as you with sight-” 

“Because it isn’t something that comes along with the rest of your power; it is a skill you must hone.” She reached over to take your hand in hers - genuine worry on her face. “There are so many things in this life that would snuff us out just because we are women. More things still because we are powerful women - I need you to take care of yourself. Big things are coming for you, and it will be difficult. Many hard decisions will have to be made, and only you can make them.”

“How very cryptic of you, mother.” The exhaustion was blurring the edges of your vision, but the look on her face gave away her genuine worry. “Fine.” You sighed through a tired smile. “You’re right - I will practice. Does this make you happy?” The crows cawed softly from their place as they groomed themselves. 

“Yes, it does.” She smiled, satisfied with the promise that you’d do everything you could to prepare yourself for what was to come.

The hearth was cold despite the almost visible chill in the air around the great hall, and he knew for a certainty that it would remain so - most likely through the winter. The Queen had been advised that the cold was good for the skin, that it kept her youthful and fair; would preserve her, which meant the wood would remain unburnt. He scolded himself silently for not dressing more warmly for his audience with her, trying for all the world to keep his teeth from chattering. 

The Queen spoke of a woman in the dark forest, a soothsayer some said, or a sorceress- a witch, and he could see what he’d have to do written in her face before she spoke the words.

“I want this creature brought to me.” Her tone was almost as icy as the windows lining the wall behind her throne. “Without delay and alive. Is that understood?” It wasn’t a request, it was a command, and he was well aware of why he’d been chosen for this task. He was her loyal huntsman, but it wasn’t just his loyalty that put him above all others who served her. He had heard the rumours and legends whispered about him by those who dwelled both in and outside the Royal palace. Tales were told of his brutal yet effective methods, and he could never say whether it filled him with shame or pride that most of them were true.

“At once, my Queen.” He bowed, his voice echoed through the barren hall and she nodded quickly, dismissing him wordlessly for which he was grateful - his quick stride out of the hall bringing him ever closer to the warmth of his quarters. 

The ache was almost unbearable, the strain of sitting still for such a long stretch of time always took a toll, but it was unavoidable; you’d made a promise. The smoke swirled around your still form, clinging onto your skin and settling into your hair and clothing - nearly thick enough to cut through. 

The birds were squawking from their perch, setting your teeth on edge.

Lucky I don’t roast the two of you.

The thoughts must have been louder than you’d intended because they quieted, allowing the long-awaited truths to be revealed, letting the smoke and stillness and incantations do their work. 

He came through then, a man atop a great big horse trampling through the dark forest. Strong and determined, and his intentions were almost too easy to read with the stink of the Queen around him like a phantom. 

A hunter, is it? Well. We’ll soon see about that.

It all swirled around in the ethos of your mind, an image of yourself captured - of the features of his handsome face furrowed with rage and then twisted up in carnal pleasure. 

The visions were disjointed and scrambled - visions of blood and mud and smoke, and when it became too convoluted, you pulled away, you finally rolled your neck with a pained gasp. Slowly but surely moving your tense muscles and rising from your place in front of the hearth.

The toll those kinds of rituals took on the body-on the mind meant at least a day of rest, and that meant all but collapsing onto your bed. 

He was astride a great black horse, armed with a great sword and a scowl, riding through the thicket and on his way to you. Even in the haze of the dream, you could smell the determination that clung to him- a bone-deep stubbornness that wouldn’t let him be satisfied until his task was complete. He would not rest until he found you, and you were going to let him. 

You woke with a gasp, darkness all around your sleeping quarters with the moonlight filtering through the window coverings. With a yawn and a stretch, you made your way over to it, the moon was waning, and the stars were bright where they hung in the heavens.

A whole day I have wasted in bed. I must prepare- he will be here soon.

The crows were asleep on their perch, and you let them rest while you set about doing what needed to be done before he arrived; you’d rested long enough. 

He set off before the sun showed its face over the horizon, his saddlebags bulging with supplies enough to sustain both him as well as his mount for the long ride to where she dwelled and back. 

He knew where to start his journey, knew he had to enter the darkest part of the forest - where the villagers outside the palace feared to tread. It was said that it was home to all manner of evil things, monsters, and creatures mothers warned their children about in order to get them to behave, and although he knew witches were real - it was hard to put credence in things no one had actually seen. 

It took the better part of the day to reach the border, the sun bright as he moved closer, now toe to toe with the treeline.

“Whoa.” The horse came to an abrupt stop just outside the wood, “It’s just trees.” He bent as best he could through his layers of wool and boiled leather - his hand rubbed at the horse's head to calm him. “Come now - let’s not waste the light.” he pulled on the reins lightly - guiding his mount into the trees. 

It was like stepping into the evening. One moment it was midday, the sun was still hanging in the sky and lighting his path, but once inside, under the cover of the trees, the light all but disappeared. He looked up to see the thick netting of branches and leaves blocking out the sky. Along with the darkness was an unearthly quiet, all of the normal sounds of the outdoors smothered within the press of greenery. All except the sound of crows.

He could feel how nervous and skittish his mount was underneath him, and he couldn’t blame him. There was a prickling on the back of his neck, an icy finger skating along his skin underneath his clothing as he made his way further and further into the forest.

There weren’t many things in this world that scared him, nothing left to be frightened of- in truth, it was him that inspired fear in others, had for many years now. The woods, however, they were a different entity altogether, and within them, he felt the inklings of something; something that tasted like terror the longer he traveled through it. 

He rode until it got too dark to see - he could not risk his horse stumbling over an errant root and injuring itself, and so he made camp as best he could, despite the prickling of fear on the back of his neck. The inky darkness swallowed him up, and within that darkness hid all manner of things, including the multitude of eyes he was convinced were watching him. 

Soon I will have her, and I can leave this godforsaken place.

The horse whinnied, startling him out of his thoughts, and he did his best to calm the animal before setting into the most restless sleep of his life. He yearned for the quiet comfort of his quarters as he lay on the hard-packed earth, trying his best to slip into sleep, but whenever he finally did- he dreamt of watchful eyes in the dark. 

The crows flew overhead, circling the space above until they grew tired and perched on the tree in front of you- watching as you collected cuttings from the garden. They squawked loudly as you moved from plant to plant - there wasn’t much time left now.

”I am well aware, thank you.”  You spoke quietly, but they heard you nonetheless, and a heavy silence fell over the little clearing near your home - you knew the hunter was close, but this was something else.

The smell of sulfur filled your nostrils, and it was enough to make your eyes water - your heavy sigh filled the air as you shook your head in annoyance. 

“What do you want?” You spoke without turning to look at the figure you knew was there. A low, amused laugh sounded, and you turned to keep an eye on him. 

“A little hostile today, aren’t we?” He was nonplussed, picking dust from the sleeve of his coat as he stood there, taking up your precious time. “No desire to be wooed today, darling?” His eyes were lively, and you didn’t have it in you to be diplomatic today. 

“No, and I am not your darling. When will you give this up?” You wiped your hands on the apron tied around your waist, gathering the bundles of herbs and flowers you’d collected. He laughed harder now; he always did love the chase.

“Not yet, but I think I might just be making a little dent in that granite wall you’ve put up.” The air around him shimmered, much like the air around the large bread ovens in the village. “Surely you must be a tad bit flattered that I wish you to be mine?” His head tilted, his eyes crinkled in a coquettish curiosity. 

“And surely you must get tired of being turned down. I don’t know if being stalked by the Devil would be the ultimate desire for any woman.” The crows squawked once more - yes, I know, but he won’t leave.

“Oh, come now, you may call me Morningstar or Lucifer; I'd even let you call me Lucy if you liked.” He stepped closer, towering over you, a trail of scorched earth in his wake. “Why do you deny me? I could make you a queen.” You raised your eyebrows at him, hating how pleasing his voice was. 

“Yes, you have such luck with queens, don’t you, Lucy.” You ignored the way his jaw clenched, ignored the way his eyes filled with flames. “She’s been on the throne an awful long time, hasn’t she? Looks like I’m not the only one avoiding you.” The whites of his eyes were gone now, replaced with obsidian glass. 

“Amira.” Her name was a curse in his mouth. “She has been-troublesome and has found ways to avoid giving me what I am due.” His fist was clenched at his side. “I will get her eventually- I always do-“ You cut him off.

”I don’t have time for this, I have said no, and I will continue to say no. In any case, I am destined for another, so if that is all, I would thank you to leave me be.” His perfect brow creased with annoyance. 

”We shall see about your destiny.” All the playfulness was gone. “We will speak again soon.” The ground opened then and swallowed him up, leaving a plume of smoke in his wake. 

I sincerely hope not.

He rolled his neck, trying for all the world to somehow stretch the knot in it; a pained groan escaping around a bite of his rationed, hard black bread. 

The horse was nervous, had been since they’d entered through the trees, and he did his best to calm him with soft words and whispers as they made their way towards the witch. He had a vague idea of where to go, the few people in the village he’d stopped to speak to at the start of his journey had told him that he’d only find her if she wanted to be found. That her home moved, that the trees were tricksters, and he had tried his hardest not to laugh in their faces. Instead, he asked them simpler questions. Whether there were any natural landmarks, any established trails, or roads, and they had answered the best they could - he did the best he could in turn with the information they provided. 

He thought about their wild eyes now as he came to a fork in the road he swore he hadn’t seen a moment ago. A deep furrow took root between his brows as he studied both paths - one had shafts of light, despite the heavy press of trees all around them. It had a relatively level dirt path that his horse would have no trouble navigating through. 

The other path was the complete opposite, it was the one you'd hear about in a folk tale that seemed to ooze danger, pitch black with the forest floor covered in gnarled, twisted roots. An accident waiting to happen, surely. The choice was obvious, yet the hairs on his neck raised nonetheless. 

He ignored the prickle of unease, ignored the feeling in his gut that there was something inherently wrong about this place, and continued on his journey. 

————————————-

He was faster than you thought, faster than he should have been, and he caught you unawares. Caught you digging at the little patch of dirt just outside your home, searching for the protection stone your mother had given you years and years before, managing to slip it into one of the many hidden pockets sewn into your skirts before a twig snapped just behind you.  

A black hood over your head was all you saw before the world went dark.

-

The world was nothing but a blurry darkness at first, blood pounded in your eyes and in the back of your head, a horrid pulsing in your temples with every beat of your heart. New aches and pains reared their ugly heads with each full inhale-in your shoulders, your arms, and back-the realization hitting as the mind fully woke, tied up like a foal.

Crafty little bastard.

“Will you behave?” His voice cut through the quiet of the wood, the tiniest of smiles at his tone came and was quickly wiped away. 

He can see me moving - very perceptive.

“Answer me.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth. 

“I should ask you the same thing, you attacked me, I seem to recall.” He didn’t laugh, he didn’t make much noise at all. You sighed. “Yes, yes, I suppose I’ll behave. Whatever that means.”

Instant relief engulfs you when he unties your hands from behind you, and finally, you can rise from the awkward position you’d been in, can rub life and sensation back into your wrists. It only lasts a moment before he’s pulling your hands toward him and tying them in front of you. 

“Is this how you would treat a lady?” You stare at him while he makes quick work of the knots- nothing you could easily slip out of- or so he thinks. His face is pleasant enough; soft brown hair frames his ruggedly handsome features- softer than his temperament in any case. His eyes are sharp, and so is his nose, but it suits him, gives him character- he doesn’t answer. “You’ve no words for me then?” 

He huffs loudly, and you can almost hear the grinding of his teeth, moving away without an answer to drink from his leather flask. 

“So, not only are you a snatcher, you’re a rude one at that.” You straighten out your skirts as best you can from your place on the ground, decidedly ignoring the way his head snaps in your direction.

“I am not a snatcher.” He catches himself, nostrils flared with irritation at being goaded into speaking. “I am a huntsman, and you are what I needed to catch. That is all the answer I have and all you will get. I warn you now- behave, and I won’t tie you up and strap you to the back of my horse like a sack of grain.” His eyebrow raises with the threat, and you almost laugh.

You bow your head in mock reverence, appeasing him. For now.

She was shockingly calm, a brave little thing if he was honest with himself and if he thought about it in too much depth - he knew he’d caught her almost too easily.  

She’d been so unlike what he’d expected, lying there in the patch of grass outside the strangest structure he’d ever seen - a dark wooden structure in the shape of a triangle that looked wholly out of place; so much so that it didn’t seem to match her.

The possibility of her being so plain - so ordinary hadn’t crossed his mind- but these words didn’t describe her well enough. In truth she wasn’t plain at all - she was pretty, her skin soft, and she looked young - younger than he’d been imagining. It worried him to think that if he’d seen her in passing, he wouldn’t have thought of her as anything other than a pretty maiden.

This had not been what he’d expected.

And what did you expect? An evil, wrinkled crone? It is a glamour, some spell she has woven to deceive you.

It must have been, he had gotten the first taste of the spell she must be weaving when he threw her over his shoulder; she smelled like home - the home of his youth. She smelled like the first blooms of spring and fresh rain, like warm sugar. He ignored it all and focused on the task at hand.

You walked for hours through winding paths, made to trail behind him and his mount.

He was silent as he led you through the forest, hands tied with a rope he held in his fist, the only exception was the occasional snort of annoyance as he led you to what he thought was the right direction. Any attempts at conversation were ignored, your words falling on deaf ears as you walked and walked and walked more still. 

Ivo and Magna were following diligently as they always did, watching from the trees as he led you in circles. It was well past evening when you stopped in the middle of the trail. He turned with a frown and tried to pull you along, but you held fast. 

“I need to stop; I am not a mule.” You moved towards the bushes beside you to pick the wild blackberries that grew, but he pulled at your hands before you could reach them. “Stop that - I am hungry, and unless you’ve brought food for me, I need something, or I will faint.” You made to pick the berries, but once again, he stopped you. 

“How do I know you don’t mean to poison yourself to avoid your captivity?” He was at your side, towering over you within a moment - surveying the fruit. You couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up.

The only reason you caught me, is because I let you. 

“That would be a little dramatic, I think- they are blackberries, Hunter.” You kept your true thoughts to yourself, for now. “Just blackberries.” You pulled at the binds slowly, picking a berry to show him. His eyes were narrowed, but he took it and smelled it cautiously before giving it back. 

“Very well. Eat your fill, and then we continue on while we still have light.” He went to his horse and left you to it. You took your time though, relishing the sweetness before finally moving forward towards your captor and continuing your journey.

He watched the trees, his face the picture of suspicion as the light faded, as the gloom of night fell heavier and heavier by the moment.

“Captivity, is it? That’s why you’ve stolen me from my home?” You spoke to his shoulder, but he didn’t answer. “Is there a reason why I’m to be held captive? Who has sent you after me, Hunter?” He sighed, taking note of the darkness that was swallowing you up, and you knew that there was no safe way to lead the horse any further. 

“We will camp here for now.” He pulled off the dirt road and into a tiny clearing, holding tightly onto what was essentially your leash while he fed and watered the horse. “You-“ he turned to you now, “You will sit still unless you want to be tied up to the tree.” His eyes narrowed, his expression a warning, and you said nothing- he took it as acceptance.

“Will you tell me why you’ve captured me?” You sat on the cold hard ground while he set about lighting a fire, pointedly ignoring your question once more. “Is our entire journey to be this way? Me asking questions you will not answer?”

“Feel free to stop asking.” He found a few good-sized pieces of wood and piled them together before producing a large knife as well as some flint. When he had the fire strong enough to burn without his help he turned to you once more. “You’re in for a cold, hard night, Witch.” The word was a curse in his mouth. “I suggest you prepare however you need to but keep it quiet. I will answer no more of your questions.” His eyes were twin flames, both the fire and mistrust burning in them before he turned away to grab his bedroll as well as some other things secured to his saddle.

“And they say chivalry is dead.” He scoffed at your words but didn’t engage, instead he kept his eyes averted. He ate what looked to be cured meat and hard bread - “Am I to survive on air and your scowls then?” He took a deep breath before breaking off a piece of his loaf and tossing it into your lap.

It was exceptionally hard to chew, nothing like the steaming crusty loaves you made for yourself and when he finished you were still gnawing on it.

“I am going to sleep but before I do I am going to tie this-“ he held up the rope connected to your bindings. “To my arm. I am a light sleeper; I warn you now not to make me come looking for you.” His coal black eyes bored into yours for a moment before he followed through- fastening the rope to his arm, laying on the bedroll and closing his eyes. 

Ivo and Magna fluttered down onto your legs once his breathing evened out. Both of them nipping at your bindings before you stopped them. 

“It’s okay little loves, I must endure for now.” You whispered softly, “be a couple of dears and bring me what I packed. I think I left it on the table- the window should be open.” They clicked happily before taking off, their shining black feathers lost in the darkness. 

They returned shortly after with the bundles you’d prepared. Dried fruit and dried meats, hazelnuts from the thicket behind your house. Enough to keep you from starving, not enough that he’d notice when you hid them cleverly in your skirts once you’d had your fill. 

The ground grew softer when you finally lay your head down to sleep, a bed of soft springy moss grew underneath you and it helped to both make the ground much more comfortable as well as keep the chill out of your bones and with your own cloak tucked around you tightly, you fell asleep.

He woke with the dawn, both the light as well as the rocks that seemed to spring out of the ground as he tried to sleep kept him awake - making his night a torture. 

He stood up with a pained stretch and was greeted with a vision that both shocked and angered him. The witch was asleep on what looked like a bed of soft grass, thicker than the rich carpets the Queen had in her chambers. He approached quietly to take a closer look, eyebrows raised into his hairline when he saw the flowers that had bloomed in her hair as she slept, making her look like something out of a fairytale. A cruel little part of him wanted to wake her; wanted to interrupt her rest so she’d be just as annoyed as he. 

He ignored the urge and instead used the peaceful moment to relieve his bladder and pack up his bedroll. His mood darkened further still when he heard her stir, rolling his eyes at the contented sigh she let out. 

He could already hear her speaking to him, asking him more and more questions; he took a deep breath and rolled his neck once more before facing her to start his journey anew.

-

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[fettuccin-e]

The First Time

Kinktober Day 15: Size Kink

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), fingering (r!recieving), oral (r!giving and recieving), Frankie's monster schlong, yeah he's got a giant dick we all know it (w/c: 1.5K)

A/N: Part of the rapid-fire Kinktober catch up! My absolutely massive size kink really let itself free with this one (get it?? massive?? hehehe) but anyway please enjoy my ramblings about taking Frankie's gigantic schlong. (I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

The first time you undress Frankie, really see him for the first time, bare and open to your gaze, you think you’re fucking hallucinating. He’d been so shy when you’d first met, so unassuming next to Pope and Will and Benny. Tugging the brim of his cap to cover his eyes, a timid little smile playing on his face as you flirted with him, not his friends. 

You couldn’t have expected the fucking monster between his thighs the first time you have him naked in your bed, his cock so thick you can barely wrap your hand around him. You don't expect the way you choke on him when you try to blow him, only for you to realize that you hadn't even made it halfway.

He doesn’t fuck you that night, the both of you too high on each other’s bodies and too tipsy from the bottle of wine you’d shared earlier.

“Need time to get you ready, hermosa,” he whispers in your ear, fucking you so hard and deep on his fingers you nearly cry. “Next time baby, next time.”

The first time he fucks you, he doesn’t make it all the way. You think you're ready, despite Frankie’s protests, begging him to fuck you, grinding into his mouth, into his fingers as he works orgasm after orgasm out of your heaving body. Through your blurry eyes, you can see the way his hips thrust gently into the mattress, fucking himself into your sheets as he eats you out, groaning into your pussy as you gush down his face. It’s fucking maddening.

He lines himself up, pressing into you gently, so gently, but God, it’s already too much. Too fucking much. You gasp as the thick head of his cock presses into your entrance, spreading you so much wider than his fingers, wider than you’ve ever been stretched. It fucking stings, and you dig your nails into Frankie’s shoulders as you try to take it for him.

He only sinks in halfway before your body just can’t take it anymore, squeezing him so tight that he can’t possibly move deeper. Tears spring to your eyes at the feeling of it, and you try to apologize, but Frankie only leans down to seal his mouth to yours, kissing the breath out of your lungs.

“Feels so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips, sounding so fucking wrecked, and you throb around him at the sound of it. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight.” 

You feel lightheaded at the destroyed rasp of his voice, and when he moves, you feel lightning rocket up your spine, whining loudly against his lips. He grins, the shy boy from the bar long gone as he thrusts until he’s halfway in again, fucking you on only half his cock as you keen beneath him. You have no idea how he’ll ever fit inside completely, how just half of him fills you up more than anyone else ever has. “Wanna take all of you,” you gasp, “want it all inside, fuck, Frankie, please.”

He shushes you gently, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Mi amor, we need more time to get you ready,” he murmurs softly. “Next time, baby, next time.”

He fucks you just like that, breaking you open with just half of his cock and fisting the base in a large, warm palm until you squeeze around him with your orgasm. When you beg him to cum inside you, he groans, pumping you full, gripping tight to your thighs. You promise yourself that next time you'll take all of him.

The first time you take Frankie, really, truly take him, you think that he’s more affected than you are.

You’re so wet, dripping down your thighs from Frankie’s endless preparation, his lips shiny with your slick as he leans down to kiss you slowly, deliberately. You find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself.

He’s been fucking you on his thick fingers for what seems like hours, spreading you so wide, wide enough that you thought you’d break.

You don’t know how many times he’s made you cum, how many times he’s told you that it’ll make you looser, get you ready. You think he just likes watching you fall apart, his eyes blown wide as you tremble against the sheets. 

When he finally, finally notches the thick tip of his cock against your entrance, pushing forward slowly, you try to brace yourself for pain. It’s so much, he’s so much, and it should hurt, fuck, you should feel like you’re being ripped apart. 

But your mind is foggy with desperation, your need to finally fit him inside, that you can barely feel the pain at all. You can only gasp for air as his cock stretches you wide, pressing in so deep it’s like you can feel it in your lungs. And he just slides in, easy as that, as if it was easy all along.

And as much as you moan and gasp, your fingers clutching into the skin of his back, it is nothing compared to the way Frankie fucking whines at the feeling of it, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he stills his hips, pressed in as deep as he can get.

“Fuck me, please, oh my God, Frankie,” you gasp, grinding your hips against his on pure instinct, desperate to get him in deeper, somehow. But his hands tighten on you, gripping so hard you think he’ll leave bruises.

“Stop,” he says, deep and raspy and fucking primal. “Stop fucking moving, shit, ‘m trying not to fucking cum.” He sounds goddamn sinful, and your pussy throbs at the sheer idea of him filling you up just from finally fitting inside you. You let him breathe through it, raking your nails gently up his back. He shivers at your touch.

You suck air in through your teeth when he pulls out, just barely, only to fuck back in. He does it again, and again, and again, thrusting so deep into you that his cock fucking drags into your sweet spot, not even trying. You’ve never felt so fucking full before.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight, don’t even know how I can fuckin’ fit,” he mutters, pulling your thighs tighter around his hips and pulling you down onto his thick cock with every thrust. “This little cunt is just sucking me in, ‘s like she can’t get enough.”

“God, yes, Frankie please,” you choke out between labored breaths, your vision blurring at the edges. All you can fucking feel, hear, smell is Frankie above you, warm and towering over you, filling you up so perfect.

“So goddamn pretty wrapped around my cock,” he growls, pounding into you hard enough that tears start to pour down your cheeks. “My greedy baby, am I big enough for you?”

“Fuck! Yes, it’s so- it’s so fuckin’ big, Frankie, I can feel it in my fucking stomach.” You’re slurring your words, your brain turned to mush as Frankie breaks you apart so viciously. He reaches between you to rub quick circles into your clit with a calloused thumb, and your body locks up, your back arching so far it presses your tits into Frankie’s strong chest.

“That’s right, honey, just fuckin’ feel it. Nobody else can fill you up like I can, right?” he snarls, and you can only nod frantically, choked moans punched from your throat every time he thrusts inside you. “Cum, sweetheart. Show me how much you love my big cock.”

And you have no other choice but to fucking scream, pulsing violently around him as you cum. You’re fucking lost in it, broken apart in the best way possible, and Frankie groans, stilling inside of your as he fills you up with cum. It’s pure bliss, a goddamn revelation, and you don’t think it’s ever going to fucking stop. He smothers your cries with a kiss, licking into your mouth and soothing you like a wild animal as you both ride out the aftershocks. 

When you finally feel yourself start to breathe normally again, to find it in yourself to blink blearily up at him, smiling softly when you see him already staring down at you. As he pulls out of you, you feel the emptiness immediately, whining as he shushes you gently. “I know, honey, I know,” he murmurs, falling beside you and pulling you into him. “You did so good for me.”

“Damn right I did,” you murmur, sleep already weighing down your eyelids. “Who else is going to take that monster dick of yours?”

He laughs, loud and gruff in the most perfectly Frankie-way you could possibly imagine. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it, hermosa.”

And, well, you don’t really have arguments for that.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

[endlessthxxghts]

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

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

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

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble. 

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

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

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

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

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

[frannyzooey]

Thank you so much!! 😍😍❤️❤️

Wait that art you reblogged…now I’m thinking about the babysitter positively suffocating Frankie with her 🐱 while he grips her thighs so hard she gets bruises

frankie morales x f!reader, weeknights universe

rating: explicit

—

“I want you to sit on my face.”

the words were already so needy when he said them, his naked body flush with yours in his big bed; the cool sheets a pleasant contrast to his warm, flushed skin and your limbs were entangled with each other’s, your lips swollen from his kisses, your slick a smear on the top of his thigh where you had been grinding yourself for the last five minutes.

you’d never done this before, a look of hesitation flitting across your features before nodding yes and when he rolled onto his back and helped you straddle his torso, it gave you so much more confidence and aroused you so much to see the way he was already dragging the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip in anticipation.

he helped guide you upwards, your hands tentatively curling around the top of the headboard to steady yourself and as you slowly lowered your pussy onto his eagerly waiting mouth, you let out a small gasp when his hands wrapped around the top of your thighs and pulled you down tight with a swift tug.

slow licks at first — ones that made your head drop forward, made your eyes flutter shut to focus on the gentle parting of your seam with his tongue — and his hands skimmed higher, curving around your hips with a reverential squeeze.

a deep, satisfied groan rumbled out of his chest and was felt against your ass, the vibration of it felt within your folds and your lips tugged into a smile; he really did love this the best.

wide, broad licks upwards, swipes of his tongue that gathered the pool of your slick and brought it to your clit or slid down into his throat and his grip tightened on you, the plush flesh of your hips spilling out between his splayed fingers.

his bottom lips drags over your core, the sparse hair of his beard skimming against the sensitive inside of your thighs and you unconsciously roll your hips forward when he presses a kiss to your clit before gliding his tongue over it.

he does it again, his hands roaming upwards to cup your breasts in their spill forward into his hands when you lean into the headboard and his hips arch off the bed into a phantom touch; his stiff, leaking cock curved hard against his soft belly.

“frankie”, you moan, your hand reaching down to thread through his soft curls. “I want it just like that. please don’t stop.”

he won’t — he never would, if you didn’t eventually push him away — and his tongue pushes slickly inside of your core; again, again, again.

he’s fucking you with it, drawing your slick out and into his mouth, groaning at the way you are now lightly tugging on his hair and when you grind your clit down on the curve of his nose, he thinks he just might come.

you pull back, surely you’re going to break his nose if you keep that up — the bridge of it a place you love to press kisses, love to trace with your finger when he lays on your chest at night, love to admire from the side while he’s driving — but when you shift on him to give him relief, he lets out a deep sound of protest, clamping his hands back on the top of your thighs with a bruising pull downwards.

“don’t”, he orders with a plead from between your legs, the words muffled by the brush of his lips against your skin before he buries his face inside of you again and so you let go and give into the feeling; his order and his skillful tongue bringing you higher and higher.

the tip of his tongue is a rapid, slick glide over your clit before he dips it inside of you, a couple of swipes of it back over the bundle of nerves before he gives it another kiss and when he starts to gently suck on it, your thighs tremble around his cheeks and under his hands, but he keeps you locked in place.

ohfuckohfuckohfuck you chant in a breathless pant, not even aware of the words spilling out of your mouth and you are freely grinding on his face right now, sitting up straight to cup the weight of your breasts in your own hands, your thumbs brushing over the peaked nipples.

he watches you with those beautiful brown eyes, so dark and hooded from between your thighs, and when you turn your head back and see his stiff cock leaking onto his belly, you tip over the edge with a curl forward; his fingers pressing into your thighs so tight his knuckles are white with tension.

you have flooded his mouth, he felt the flutter of your pussy on his tongue when he pushed it deep inside, felt the tang of your arousal coat his tongue and his brow is a deep furrow of mindless pleasure when you look down at him with a dazed, sated gaze.

you reach down and lift his hand from your thigh, bringing it to your mouth for a kiss and your hips are already sore when you shift down his body — down, down, down — to guide him inside of you with a slow, filling stretch.

it’s your turn now (or was it already your turn? who enjoys that more — you or him?) because that was what he wanted, but what you want is to ride him.

you’ve wanted it all day, wanted to see that sweet, full cheeked face tipped back in pleasure, wanted to see that tanned throat stretched taut with it, wanted to hear that husky voice beg you to make him come and you do hear it when you roll your hips just like you were on his face.

your hands braced on his firm chest, you look down at his glistening lips and chin, his mouth open in a silent groan when his hands reach to guide your movements and it’s his turn to breathlessly chant when you slide down onto his cock; over, over, over.

[flightlessangelwings]

To Feel Your Body Against Mine

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Word count-4.5k

Prompt- secret relationship

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), secret relationship, feelings, praise, sex in a public bathroom, softness, oral (f receiving), creampie, alcohol mention, a shitty ex, attempted assault (not detailed), mild violence (not against reader), happy ending, reader is a bartender/waitress, reader is Santi's sister but not physically described at all other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- For @burntheedges Roll a Trope writing challenge! I'm so excited to be able to participate and I got such a fun trope too! And I definitely made myself hot and bothered writing that second spicy scene lol! I hope everyone enjoys this!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

“Mmm… Frankie…” you moaned as you leaned your head back against the bathroom mirror.

He hummed your name in your ear as he smirked against your face.

“We’re gonna get caught if we take too much longer,” you huffed as you felt the warm embrace of his body against yours. 

“Yeah,” he groaned as he thrust into you, “But you feel so fucking good, baby,” his tone dropped as he thrusted again, “Can’t fucking stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you cried out as your eyes rolled back into your head.

Frankie had you on the bathroom counter in the employee bathroom at the bar you worked at. The moment the two of you had the chance to slip away, you took it, and quickly you clawed each other’s clothes off, desperate for one another. To have his cock fill you up again filled that need that left you feeling empty. To be connected to him once more was something that your body, and your heart, craved more than anything. To feel his strong arms around you as you wrapped your legs around his waist made everything feel perfect, even if you were currently in a dirty bathroom. 

And Frankie’s feelings reflected yours. From the moment he first met you all those years ago, he instantly fell for you. And to finally have you in his arms, to feel himself inside your pussy, to be able to call you his… it was better than heaven for him. Even from the second he walked into the bar and saw you with the drink mixer in your hand, the way your breasts swung then you shook it, he knew he was going to fuck you in the bathroom the moment he got the chance.

Your relationship was perfect. Even from the first night you spent together, it felt as if the two of you had been together for years. Everything just fell into place perfectly, like you were two puzzle pieces that finally clicked together to form the picture that was your life. Everything felt right. Everything felt perfect, like things were the way they should be.

It was almost perfect that is. There was only one problem: no one knew. No one could know. Because you were Santigo’s sister. 

“He’ll freak out if he finds out about us,” you had once told Frankie, “Let’s just keep it between us for now. We’ll figure out the right time to tell him later.”

But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered to Frankie now was you. You were the entire world to him as he fucked you in the bar bathroom. The way your mouth dropped open to let the beautiful cries flow freely was more intoxicating to him than the drinks you served. The way your breasts swung with his every thrust was captivating. The way your inner muscles clenched around his cock sent jolts of pleasure up his spine.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he groaned. 

Sweat lined your brow as you clung to Frankie. One hand buried itself in his hair, tugging hard, while the other dug into his broad shoulder. All you could do was scream in pleasure as he rocked faster into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Fuck! Frankie, right there!” you moaned as you arched your back.

With one harsh grunt, Frankie thrust forward and both of you fell apart at the same time. You and Frankie both cried out as your bodies trembled against each other. Clinging to each other for dear life, you moaned loudly. Thankfully, the loud music from the bar drowned out your screams, yet at the time neither of you cared about that. All you cared about was the other as you rode out your climaxes together. 

Frankie huffed as he stilled himself inside you for a moment, hot and sweaty from the passionate lovemaking in the tiny bathroom. He let out a deep breath as he opened his eyes for a moment before closing them again to kiss you deeply. He savored the taste of you on his tongue as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you, swallowing the whimper you let out. His hand cupped the side of your face as his thumb stroked your cheek tenderly.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he mumbled as he rested his forehead against yours.

“So are you, Frankie,” you smirked back at him before you kissed him again. But, as much as you wanted the moment to last forever, you knew time was against you. “We really do need to get back now,” you sounded disappointed, “Don’t want anyone to get suspicious.” 

Frankie’s face dropped; he didn’t want the moment to end yet either, “Yeah,” he nodded as he helped you dress before slipping his own clothes back on.

Placing his trusty hat back on his head, you gave him one last kiss, “You go first. I’ll be behind you in a second.”

His dark, pleading eyes looked into yours as three words rushed to the tip of his tongue. But, just like every time before, they remained unspoken as he unlocked and left the bathroom.

You let out a deep sigh as you turned to the mirror and adjusted yourself for a moment before you also left your little hideaway and went back to the real world. The real world where as far as anyone was concerned, you and Frankie were just friends. 

*

You grinned from behind the bar as you watched the guys at their table. Santiago, your brother, and the guys who got each other through tough times that you couldn’t even imagine all laughed together. The four of them best of friends, brothers in arms. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you could tell they enjoyed their time together, as they always did when the four of them convened. 

“There you are, nena!” Santiago exclaimed as you walked up to the table with a tray of drinks, “Where’ve you been?”

Frankie swallowed nervously, but hid it under the brim of his hat.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s busy in here,” you gestured over your shoulder to the crowd at the bar, “Some of us work for a living,” you added with a smirk. Glancing over for a brief moment, you caught Frankie’s eye and saw him relax his shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah,” Santiago shrugged, “As long as these assholes keep their hands to themselves and off my sister.” He shit a pointed glare towards another table of guys who made no effort to hide the way they checked you out when you walked by.

Will and Benny burst into laughter before Will spoke up, “Man you really have the overprotective brother thing down pat, don’t you, Pope?”

“Yeah,” Benny added as he sipped his drink.

Santiago rolled his eyes, “Shut up, assholes.”

You mirrored your brother’s eye roll before you turned and walked away, aware of a pair of eyes stealthily on your ass as you did so. A grin lit up your face while your back was to the guys.

Chatter echoed around him as he lost himself in your figure as the guys went back to their conversation. Vaguely, he was aware they were reminiscing about good times in the past before they turned their attention to Benny’s upcoming fight. The Miller brothers seemed to focus more on each other as Will gave his usual encouraging words to his little brother.

“Que pasas, hermano?” Santiago asked, noticing Frankie’s distant expression.

Frankie shook himself out of his thoughts and back to his best friend, “Nada,” he replied a little too quickly, “Nothing,” he repeated in a more leveled tone, “Just thinking is all,” he said as he took a sip of his drink and savored the taste that mixed with your that lingered on his tongue.

“That’s dangerous,” Santiago quipped playfully.

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted his hat. After a breath, Frankie chose his words carefully so as to not arouse suspicion, “Would it really be so bad if your sister found someone? Like found the right someone who treats her well?”

He pointed a stare at him for a moment before he took a swig of his drink and answered, “If it were the right person, yeah. She has a habit of picking real shitty ones though,” Santiago made a face as he pictured a particular ex of yours. But, he decided Frankie’s question was harmless, “But for now, I got my best friends watching over her when I can’t,” he placed a hand on his shoulder, “Thanks man, I know I can count on you.”

Frankie gave him a smile that hid the way he truly felt, “Anytime, man.”

*

“Oh Frankie… Ay mierda,” you moaned as you writhed on his bed.

The moon was high in the sky, illuminating Frankie’s bedroom. It was just the right amount of light to make for a romantic night in, and Frankie took full advantage of it. In between your legs he found a bliss unlike anything else. There was only one place he loved kissing you more than your lips…

Frankie groaned into you as he dug his hands into your thighs. As much as he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were or how delicious you tasted, he just couldn’t break himself away from your pussy. He slurped loudly, not caring how obscene the sounds he made were, especially when they made you moan and make such lovely sounds.

“Ay dios mio,” you cried out as one hand landed in his hair while the other clutched onto the sheets for dear life. The way his tongue so expertly found all your sensitive spots never ceased to amaze you… and always left you breathless.

Another growl emitted from deep within Frankie’s throat as he devoured you with even more fervor. His tongue swirled around your clit, making you whimper with every pass, and he could tell you were close.

Let me taste your cum, baby, he thought as he ran his tongue up and down your folds. The tip of his nose hit your clit as he dipped his tongue into your entrance, darting it in and out a few times before running back up. The moment his lips wrapped around your clit, you screamed and tugged at his hair.

“Frankie! Fuck!” you cried out as your legs trembled on either side of his head.

He tightened his grip on you as he sucked hard on your clit. And that was all it took to send you over the edge. With a loud scream, you came hard against his face, rocking your hips against his prominent nose as you rode out your climax.

Like a man dying of thirst, Frankie greedily lapped up your release as he kept his rhythm with his tongue. He didn’t want to waste a drop of your sweet juices, and he didn’t want to stop until you were entirely spent. His cock strained with need, but he ignored it in favor of your pleasure.

With one last gasp, you flopped down limp on the bed, and Frankie broke away from your cunt with a loud pop. He wanted your body through glazed over eyes as his chin glistened with your cum. He watched with fiery eyes as your breasts rose and fell with your heavy breaths as you came down from your high.

“Fuck you are so fucking sexy, baby,” he growled as he lunged forward and captured your lips with his own.

You moaned into him as you wrapped your arms and legs around his body as he covered you. A rumble from Frankie’s chest reverberated between your bodies as he rutted against you.

“I need you, baby,” Frankie sounded so desperate, “Fuck I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then fuck me, Francisco,” you mewled as you bucked your hips against his, feeling his rock hard cock against your slick pussy.

All he could do was growl as he angled his hips against you. Frankie slipped a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your entrance, and the moment the tip hit your wetness, you both gasped.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed as he easily slid into you, your pussy still soaking wet from how avidly he devoured you.

“Oh my god…” you dropped your head back onto the mattress as you felt his cock stretch you out. You groaned and dug your nails into his back as you surrendered yourself to him completely. 

“Shit I’m not gonna last long with how fucking good you feel,” Frankie muttered as he started to rock in and out of you, feeling your walls around him with every thrust.

Any words escaped your mind the moment he started thrusting in and out of you. All you could do was moan and hold onto him as his cock filled you over and over again. In the moonlight, Frankie fucked you with everything he had. You felt the passion behind every thrust of his hips, and the way he held you while he ravaged you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

This was not just fucking. Frankie was making love to you in both the sweetest and roughest way he could. And it was everything you needed and more. Just as he was addicted to you and your pussy, you were addicted to him. You clawed at his back, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t get enough of him. You wanted to feel every inch of his body against you while his thick cock filled you up over and over again. You wanted… need him more than air.

Frankie was mesmerized by you. Before you pulled him closer, he watched as your breasts swung wildly with every thrust of his hips. And as he covered you with his body, he could feel your heart pound in your chest. He couldn’t get enough of the way you wrapped your arms and legs around him, wordlessly telling him you needed more, needed him closer. 

And he was happy to oblige. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he murmured your name over and over with every thrust, “Baby I’m close.” Sweat lined his brow, making the thick locks of hair stick to his forehead.

“Cum in me, Frankie,” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against his, “Let me feel you.”

Your words alone almost made him lose control. But Frankie wasn’t going over the edge without you, so he snaked his hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you cried out as his touches sent jolts of pleasure up your spine, “Frankie…”

“I know baby,” he moaned, “I’ve got you…”

His thrusts became erratic as the room spun around him. Moans and cries of pleasure echoed between your bodies, and neither of you were sure who made which sounds. It didn’t matter anyway, you were connected at one, fitted together perfectly as if you were meant for each other.

Frankie felt his orgasm quickly approaching; with every thrust he was closer and closer. And from the way your inner muscles squeezed his cock, he could tell you were just as close. Pounding into you with fervor, Frankie growled your name as he came hard enough to see stars.

You screamed against his lips as your second climax hit at the same time. Clutching onto Frankie tightly, you trembled underneath him as you came together. Passions exploded between your bodies as Frankie rode out both your climaxes. Tears fell down your cheeks as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through your body. And a shiver ran up your spine as you felt Frankie’s release fill you to the brim while he moaned against your face.

With one last huff, Frankie thrust as deep as he could into you before he collapsed down on top of you with a grunt. You wheezed as the added weight was sudden, but you both burst into laughter as you both went limp against each other. Frankie planted light kisses on the side of your head as he caught his breath and his cock softened inside you. A chill of his own ran up his spine as your laughter sent shocks to his overstimulated cock.

“That was amazing, baby,” Franie murmured in your ear.

“You’re amazing, Frankie,” you whispered back, kissing him wherever you could while you ran your hands up and down his broad back.

Frankie broke away to gaze into your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. Again, three words were on the tip of his tongue. He could have said them. He should have said them. You looked so beautiful underneath him in the moonlight. There was no better time than now…

Yet, he didn’t. Instead he said, “I got you,” as he slowly pulled out of you, causing you both to hiss. Frankie gave you an apologetic look when he was fully out of you, and he couldn’t help but glance down and watch his release spill out of your pussy.

He licked his lips, and for a moment he contemplated devouring you once more. But, his muscles ached, and Frankie felt the overwhelming need just to hold you close, to feel your body against his.

Reaching for a tissue on his bedside, Frankie gently, tenderly cleaned you up as you whimpered from the touch. You were overstimulated as well, but in the best way possible. Not wanting to leave your side even for a moment, he just tossed the tissue aside and laid down next to you, gathering you in his arms. You sighed contently as you pressed a light kiss to his chest before you laid your head down comfortably. 

“Hey baby?” Frankie broke the silence after several moments. 

“You alright, Frankie?” You noticed the change in his tone, which made you worry. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heart under your palm. 

“Do you ever think maybe we should tell Santiago about… us?”

You let out a deep sigh as you savored the warmth of his embrace for a moment, “I do hate hiding from him,” you admitted, “But I’m just scared to, you know?” Truthfully, you were sure he wouldn’t be as mad as you feared, yet something nagged at you about it. Perhaps because he reacted so badly to the last person you dated, yet he had good reason to. This time, however, it was Frankie, and who would deny Frankie? And the longer this went on, the more frightened you became. You dug yourself in this hole and the longer you hid in it, the more difficult you knew climbing out of that hole would be.

“I know,” he comforted you with a squeeze, “But we can do it together. He can’t be mad for too long,” he let out a soft laugh.

You chuckled, “You’re right,” you hummed in agreement, “We’ll pick a time to sit down with him and tell him the truth, and Will and Benny too.”

“Sounds good, baby,” he kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right there with you, I promise,” Frankie paused and took a deep breath, “But for now, let’s get some sleep.”

*

It was a quieter night at work, which you were thankful for. So many crowded nights were great for your paycheck, but left you completely exhausted. A few regulars and some newcomers sat scattered around the bar, but you still had some time to just lean against the wall and rest for a bit. It was a calm, peaceful night.

Until the one person you never wanted to see again walked through the doors.

Immediately you were on edge from the moment you saw his sly face, “Ernesto,” you spat through gritted teeth, “What are you doing here?”

His grin sent shivers down your spine, “I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t miss you,” your tone was cold as you held yourself strong, “Get out of here.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he leaned in close, invading your space and placing a hand on your shoulder, “Give me another chance. I’ve changed.”

“No!” you pushed his hand off your shoulder. But, before you could step away from him, he grabbed your wrist, “Let me go, Ernesto!”

Just as he tried to yank you close enough to him to kiss you, he was ripped away in a flash. Before he could even grunt in confusion, Ernesto found himself stumbling away from you and a man stood between you and him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snapped.

“Frankie,” you breathed in relief.

“She told you no, so get the fuck out of here before I have to hurt you,” Frankie growled, sounding very unlike his usual self. 

“Fuck off, she’s mine,” Ernesto lunged for Frankie, fists winging.

Frankie clenched his jaw and waited for the opportunity to present itself. In between the flurry of hands from Ernesto, there was an opening. It only took one hit, one precise punch from Frankie right in his nose to send him careening back. Ernesto landed on the floor with a grunt, and all the air was forced out of his lungs as he saw stars from hitting his head.

In a rage, Frankie stepped forward and grabbed Ernesto’s collar, peeling him off the floor, “Have anything to say now, pendejo?” he growled.

It took him a moment to re-orientate himself before he stuttered, “N-no,” all the fight had left Ernesto’s body, “I’m going. I’m going,” he pleaded as he scrambled away and bolted for the door. Frankie watched to make sure he left before he quickly rushed over to you.

*

Santiago hopped out of his truck before he strolled toward the bar you worked at. He had some free time and decided to come see you, especially since he noticed you had been acting differently lately. He cared for you more than anything, and he only ever wanted the best for his sister and only family. He was in a good mood, but as he got closer to the bar, someone burst through the doors and slammed right into him.

“S-sorry,” Ernestro muttered as he looked up from where his gaze was pointed at the ground, “I didn’t mean to… You!” he gasped, recognizing Santiago.

“You!” he snarled as he grabbed Ernesto’s shirt, “What the fuck are you doing here?!” Santiago was ready to hit him, enraged when he thought about how he treated you in the past, but when he noticed the broken nose and blood from his face, he paused.

Ernesto took the opportunity in his hesitation to slip out of his grip and run away. Santiago thought about going after him, but his priority was more on his sister’s safety, so he ran inside to check on you. And when he rushed through the doors, the sight that met him froze him in his tracks.

Frankie was there, holding you tightly and whispering into your ear as you nuzzled into his shoulder. He couldn’t hear what exactly he said, but he could tell Frankie was whispering words of comfort into your ear in between feather light kisses. Santiago wasn’t sure how to feel and he stood in dumbfounded stillness for several moments.

“What the hell is going on here?” his voice was a low grumble as the emotions slipped out before he could stop them.

You gasped as you snapped your head up from where it rested on Frankie’s shoulder, “Santi…” you breathed, tears still fresh in your eyes, “I can explain,” you scrambled out of his arms and up to your feet.

Frankie followed right behind you, “Pope, I…” he started before he was interrupted.

“Wait,” you hissed to both of them, noticing the stares from the few patrons in the bar, “Can we take this outside?” You really did not want an audience.

Santiago remained tense, but looked around and nodded. In silence, the three of you slipped out and towards your brother’s truck for some privacy. The tension was palpable as you made your way out of the bar. Yet, Frankie still slid his hand in yours despite the glare from Santiago.

“Santi, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you blurted out, “We just…”

“How long?” Santiago cut you off with a simple question, “How long have you kept this from me?”

All the breath felt like it was punched out of your lungs and suddenly you realized why he was so angry. All your life, it had been just you and Santi; brother and sister alone in the world. You trusted each other with everything, and you were all each other had. This was the first time you kept something from him, and you noticed the hurt in his eyes that you felt like you had to hide this from him.

“A few months,” Frankie answered for you in a quiet voice.

Santiago let out a heavy sigh as his shoulders dropped and the tough person melted away. Putting his hands on his hips, he looked between the two of you, “And you couldn’t tell me this whole time?” his tone was softer than before, and the hurt was apparent. 

“Santi,” you started, taking a step forward, “I’m sorry.”

He glanced at you before he stepped past you and met Frankie face to face, “Will you take care of her?” he asked, “You’ll never hurt her?”

Frankie’s eyes softened, “Yeah,” he breathed, “I swear, man,” he continued, “I’d never do anything to hurt her,” he paused, “I’m in love with your sister, man.”

The confession made both you and Santiago’s mouths drop open in surprise. “Frankie…” you gasped in a whisper from behind your brother.

Santiago recovered first, “Fuck, bro,” he smiled through the emotions, “Guess I can’t be too pissed at you… You did kick her ex’s ass pretty damn good.” He turned over his shoulder and smiled genuinely at you before turning back to Frankie, “Just don’t make out or do any of that shit in front me, ok?” he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

The relief showed on Frankie’s face as he too broke out into a smile. His hand landed on Santiago’s shoulder as you also sighed in relief behind them. “Deal,” he said before the two friends embraced.

Santiago turned to you and took you up in his arms, hugging you tightly.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you, Santi,” you whispered to him as you hugged him back.

Breaking away from the hug, he kept his hands on your forearms, “I get why you didn’t,” he said softly, “I can be a little much when it comes to my family.” He turned between you and Frankie, “How about we celebrate? Drinks are on me.”

“Do I have to make them?” you teased.

Santiago and Frankie both laughed as you all embraced each other. Your brother patted you both on the shoulder before he ushered you both to his truck. Frankie slipped his hand in yours, happy to finally be able to take your hand in public without the fear of getting caught. A new chapter in your lives was just starting, and finally everything was absolutely perfect. 

[almostempty]

too good to be true (frankie x f!reader)

Too good to be true (frankie morales x f!reader) | wc: 9k | other fics  | Ao3

summary: frankie, a regular at your coffee shop, is there for you when your boyfriend joel breaks up with you and disappears practically overnight. despite not knowing each other long, frankie just seems to be perfect for you and you fall hard and fast 

note: this was supposed to be for the accidental adultery trope for @auteurdelabre 's trope challenge from last month. i thought accidental adultery was more like the wrong bed trope so--you can find that here with Dieter's party, but it turns out accidental adultery is more like ..when you thought ur lover died in the war or something and you start a new life with someone else and then they show up again. that didn’t interest me- soooo (spoiler) in my version reader doesn’t know that joel only left her bc of frankie 

warnings/tags: mdni explicit, smut, dark!frankie, stalker!frankie, dubcon, lies, deceit, coffee shop au gone wrong, accidental adultery, ex bf Joel, abandonment issues, anxiety, breakup grief, using sex to avoid processing emotions, face fucking, masturbation, crying, love bombing aka emotional manipulation/abuse, frankie doesn’t have a job bc he nefariously acquired a large cash settlement from his return trip to the jungle– or maybe he has a military pension idk don’t ask questions, revenge porn, jealousy, delusional reader, jealous and possessive frankie, if i missed something important pls let me know, 

standard weds warnings: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction so it’s free to imagine it raw; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise, no specific descriptions; no y/n, likely many mistakes and i accept that 🫡

You don’t remember the first time you met, but you remember when you started looking forward to seeing Frankie. He was a quiet regular, didn’t ask for much, but was always polite. Kind. He’d come by at the same time, get the same coffee, and sit at a table in the lobby reading the news on his phone. Most mornings, you were busy enough that you didn’t even think about starting a conversation, but you’d sneak a glance here and there as he sat. Sometimes, he caught you, and you’d both flash a quick smile. 

He was a fun little fantasy to look forward to. You weren’t single or looking anyway, but it didn’t hurt to have something to help you crawl out of bed at 3:30 AM. It was always quiet until just after 6 AM, when the commuters started coming through. Frankie usually came through the lobby just as the morning rush was picking up, curls still damp from his post-workout shower and a soft smile just for you. 

Until it changed. He started showing up even earlier. That’s when you began to get to know him bit by bit. In the quiet dark of the early mornings, while the espresso machines warmed up and the 

You learned that he moved into town this year–not in this neighborhood, but he likes the coffee here, so it’s worth the morning drive. He’s single. Ex-military. Sticks to a routine. Likes your name. Remembers details. Asks follow-up questions about your weekend plans on Monday mornings. 

Did you and your boyfriend see that movie you were thinking about? Did you get to sleep in like you’d hoped? Did he take you to the farmer’s market? Did he like the recipe you wanted to try out? 

It was sweet. And infuriating. Someone you barely knew always remembered your plans or the little throwaway comments you’d make. You knew it wasn’t intentional, but it always stung when he’d ask about your plans, and you were left coming up with excuses for why they never seemed to happen. You carried the discomfort home with you until it spilled over into your relationship. 

And, thanks to Frankie really, it forced you to talk about it. Your boyfriend, Joel, had been drifting away. Complacent and avoidant. He’d been staying late at work, canceling on your weekend plans, always too tired to fuck, generally just a bad-tempered brick wall rather than a boyfriend. But after a serious conversation and some threats you hoped you wouldn’t have to follow through on, he’d agreed to make changes. 

It was working, too. You made date nights a priority. You sent flirty texts during the day–even if neither of you had time to respond right away. 

When he had long days during the week, you’d give him a back massage. You’d sit straddling his ass, rubbing down his shoulder blades, kneading circles with your thumbs, and savoring the view of his broad back and the warmth of his body under yours. You would pull the stress and tension away from his neck and spine, eliciting low groans of pleasure from Joel that would stir up the heat pooling in your core. You’d keep it up until you lulled him to sleep–or on your favorite nights–he’d flip over underneath you and watch you ride him until you were both slick with sweat, panting, and needing another quick shower before succumbing to sleep. 

It’s those tender moments that make it hurt that much more now. 

To think he could just throw you away like this. That he didn’t think you were worth the face-to-face conversation. Worth the closure. Just leaving you a fucking note, like you were a business transaction. Here’s your memo letting you know he no longer requires your services. 

Fucking coward. 

You re-read the letter for the thousandth time. It’s real, and you aren’t insane. You shove it back into your apron pocket. It’s your token. A reminder that this hell is your reality. 

You slip back to the front counter, plastering on your best customer service smile. 

But of course, it’s fucking Frankie. The concern is written across his face before he even gets to the counter. Are you that easy to read? You’re never going to make it through your shift. 

“You doing okay?” he asks softly as if he might spook you. Stupid big brown eyes. Just like Joel’s. They make you weak. You can’t be weak. You try to shift into a more defensive mode–chest forward, shoulders back. 

“Why? Do I look like shit today?” 

“No, never,” he tries to reassure you. Always so sweet to you. 

“Sorry, I just mean, I wouldn’t be surprised. I feel like shit.” You grumble as you grab his drip coffee and set it on the counter between the two of you. 

“I take it he’s still gone then?” 

You can only nod back in agreement. Can’t even look Frankie in the eyes; you just linger on his mouth and scruffy jaw where it seems safer to stare. Until his mouth shifts into a sympathetic frown. 

“You deserve better, you know,” he says like it’s a confession. Only meant for you and his coffee to hear. 

“Sure,” you sigh. Maybe he’s right. You deserve someone that can look you in the eye when they break up with you. Explain in more than a few sentences why they’d block you and disappear like a fucking ghost. Maybe you never really knew Joel at all if he could do this to you. 

You can feel your eyes welling up again, your face is still swollen from crying all night, and you’re sick of the emotional whiplash. Did you miss the signs the whole time? Was it something you did? Will you ever know? The cafe starts to blur as your heart rate increases. 

“Hey,” Frankie murmurs, “breathe.” It’s soft, but the timbre of his voice draws your attention. You focus on inhaling and exhaling, willing away the sobs. Just as you steady, they almost start all over again when you think about how pathetic you must seem to him. Standing at the register, sucking in shaky breath, and trying not to have a complete breakdown. 

But Frankie assures you he doesn’t think you’re pathetic. And somehow, you get through the morning. And the next. Day by day, you crawl through the week against everything inside of you that wants to scream and hide in bed for a month. By the end of the week, the only thought that gets you through the opening routine is that it’s your last shift before the weekend. 

There’s no way you could survive another shift just going through the motions like an undead barista. You know you’re on the edge, fragile and raw. You can just get through today and then spend the weekend locked in your bed wallowing, ugly crying, binge eating, anything. 

Your flimsy resistance almost crumbles when Frankie shows up with flowers for you. It’s too sweet. He seems so concerned. He claims he wanted you to have something to help cheer you up over the weekend. 

His thoughtful gesture is overwhelming. Having someone care about you, think of you, worry about you? And worse, to know that it could be so easy for someone to show you they care. 

To know that you aren’t hard to love. 

He notices the way your eyes shine, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. He apologizes, “If it’s too much, you don’t have to take them. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I definitely didn’t want to make you cry.” 

You assure him they’re lovely and that you appreciate the gesture. You give him your warmest smile through your misty eyes. And you take the flowers home. 

You stare at them all weekend. 

Your favorite flowers. How did he know? They make you think of Frankie all weekend. His smile, how reliable he is with his routine, his thoughtfulness, how kind he is to you. 

The qualities you thought you had found in Joel. 

You let yourself embrace your agony for the weekend. Determined to make it through at least the first stage of grief. As if you can allot a number of hours to it and just check it off your list. 

A part of you admits that there’s something comforting about knowing you’ll see Frankie again Monday morning. That someone will check in on you. 

And he does. 

Reliable as ever, he shows up in the dark cover of the early morning. You greet each other with your deep morning voices, and there’s something about the fact that you’re the first person you both speak to every morning that draws a genuine smile from you. 

You keep going to work. Frankie keeps showing up. The world keeps turning.

Days pass and you can start to fall asleep without having to exhaust yourself completely. Some of the weight on your chest sloughs off when your ribs shake with laughter at Frankie’s jokes. His charm brightens your dark days. 

One afternoon, as you’re dropping an armful of grocery bags onto the counter, you notice the flowers he gave you. They’re starting to wilt. You hesitate to toss them for some reason. Convinced they’ve got another day in them, at least. 

You sweep up the fallen petals and pollen, spinning the vase to find the best angle left. The flowers may be fading, but Frankie is beginning to occupy a permanent residence in your mind. You find yourself keeping mental notes of things you want to share with him the next morning. A joke about a show you both keep up with, something you saw on your walk home, a question you forgot to ask the day before because you were distracted. 

Distracted by things that don’t sound like they could possibly be distracting. Like the curve of his bottom lip or the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Or worse, the way he smiles so wide you can see his dimples when you double down on an argument about a movie, TV show, or the best takeout on this side of town. 

The next morning he has fresh flowers for you. It’s as if he knew you were hesitating to get rid of them, to lose the physical evidence. You squint at him with a playful accusation of how did you know they were on their last legs? He reasons it’s been a week already. A week. It feels like it’s only been a day, and at the same time, it feels like a whole month has passed. 

It helps. 

The following week is much of the same. Morning chats with Frankie. Busy shifts with rushes and endless cleaning tasks. Running errands, trying to keep in touch with friends, trying to keep yourself too busy and distracted to fall back into the sharp pain of loss. Of coming home to an empty apartment. Of waking up alone. Of the way Joel erased himself so completely from your life, you have to find tangible reminders that he was ever real. 

You loosen your grip on the hope that Joel might show up with an apology or even respond to the text you had sent. He can’t even hear you out or answer a single question? You give up altogether on the idea that the whole thing might have been some confusing mistake.

There’s still a hole rotting in your heart, but if you stay busy enough, you can ignore it. Mostly. 

You stick to your plan, steadfast that time will heal your wounds. Days pass, and you find yourself once again asking Frankie what he has planned for the day. But this time, he hesitates. 

Frankie tells you he’ll be out of town for a few days. You aren’t sure why, but it feels like he jammed his fingers into that hole in your heart when he tells you. Don’t abandon me. Please. 

He must see right through you. 

“Here,” he says, holding out his hand. “I know it’s only a few days, but I was thinking I don’t want to miss out on your remarkably accurate reality TV predictions. You take the napkin with his number written on it. How old-fashioned. It makes your heart flutter. “Keep me updated.” 

You swallow the butterflies and turn the energy into a smirk. “You’re so going to regret this,” you tease. 

You feel lit from within, glowing and floaty for the rest of your shift. Getting the hot regular’s number gives you a rush. It’s not like he asked you on a date or anything, but still, it feels good to have someone want to keep talking to you. 

Until you clock out and immediately start spiraling. Should you text him now just to give him your number? Wish him a safe trip? Play it cool and wait until tomorrow morning? Or maybe he’s busy in the morning? Shit. You never even asked what his trip was for. 

……

It’s early afternoon when Frankie’s phone buzzes. Your shift must have just ended. 

You: it’s me!

You: figured it’s only fair you get my number now, too 

Frankie: Hey you :) 

You: hey :) 

You: i hope the trip goes well 

Frankie: Thanks, it’ll be better now. 

You: how come? 

He underestimated you. He thought he wouldn’t hear from you until tomorrow. Thought it would take longer. 

Frankie: Well, I just got this pretty girl’s number. Now I’ve got her updates to look forward to. 

He shakes his head to himself, pocketing his phone and stretching out on his sofa. 

Maybe he didn’t need the ruse of being out of town at all. You don’t need the absence to suck you in any deeper; you’re moving on faster than he thought. Good. 

He sprawls out across the couch like a lazy dog in the sun, TV on mute, still fully dressed. He drags his eyes over the bare walls of his apartment. He’s going to need the next few days to make the place seem a little more welcoming. More like a place you’d be happy to wake up in. 

He checks the notes hidden in his phone of places you shop, your favorite color, the way your apartment is decorated. He already knows what you want. What you need. With that thought, he drifts off, satisfied, into a long nap. 

He doesn’t wake until his evening alarm goes off, checking his phone to see what reality show you’re going to be glued to tonight. MILF manor. Who comes up with these? He rolls his eyes, stretching, yawning, and traipsing across his apartment to find some cold pizza in the fridge. 

Holding one slice between his teeth and the other in one hand, he debates whether he should take a drive through your neighborhood or stay in for the night. His phone buzzes again, and he figures it’s a sign. He drops his pants near the hallway and scarfs his cold dinner as he settles back in the living room, unmuting the show and opening your messages. 

You’re funny. 

Sending quick-witted observations and callbacks. 

You force him to pay attention. You’re sharp. If he doesn’t watch, you’ll know. You always call him out for missing the nuance. You challenge that he could predict the next winner if he paid closer attention. 

When you get frustrated with him and huff about how he missed something completely obvious, he memorizes your expressions. The fire in your eyes when you’re passionate. You feel so deeply and express your emotions so freely. 

He likes that about you. Funny. Smart. Bold. Passionate. Sexy.

Perfect. 

He lets his mind wander as he leans back. The room glows from the light of the TV, flashing brighter and dimmer. The look on your face when he said he’d be gone for a few days pops into his mind, how your eyes flashed wide and the soft pout that tugged at your bottom lip. 

You need him. It’s so clear. And you’re so perfect. 

The show is just noise. Static. 

He closes out of your messages. Opening up his photos. Scrolling through pictures of you. Some from social media, and some taken while you were working and unaware. 

Perfect. 

His eyes fall shut as he tips his head back, relaxed and comfortable as he sinks deeper into the cushion. 

“Perfect lips, perfect mouth,” he mutters to himself as he sets the phone aside altogether. 

It’s a simple but effective scene that plays out in his mind. A go-to fantasy since the day he first laid eyes on you. 

He wedges his boxers down just far enough to free his half-hard cock. He tries to start slow, with languid strokes as he imagines the heat of your mouth sucking him deeper. The sight of you looking up at him with your lips stretched around him. 

“Just perfect,” he groans to himself. He can’t hold back his urgency at the thought of you, quickly amping up the speed of his wrist and the strength of his grip. It’s minutes, or maybe seconds before his muscles are tensing and jerking as he comes to the thought of you. 

It eases the tension, but he still needs you. Soon. 

……

The rest of your week passes quickly. 

Your head is in the clouds over your new texting buddy. You check your phone on all your breaks but send yourself into another spiral, trying to work out the balance between enthusiastic but not needy. Responding quickly, but not being too much. You don’t want to come off as crazy.

It fully absorbs your attention. The excitement and the anxiety. The rush when you get a new message and the anguish over every word you type. Rereading your messages until you get a response. Worrying yourself over your silly jokes and banter. But when he responds, it’s addictive. You’re smitten when he matches your energy or sends a flirty quip. 

It makes you smile so hard your cheeks burn. You get distracted taking orders. It’s all-consuming. 

………

Frankie keeps tabs on you the rest of the week. When you walk home from work, when you run errands, when you’re out with your friends. He picks up things for his apartment while you’re at work. At night, he drives down your block. He watches you watching TV. Until dark, then you diligently shut your curtains just as the last dregs of the sunset disappear. 

Tonight, he lingers, still parked across the street from your apartment building. He sends another text, and his eyes flick to your curtains like you might open them back up just for him. You’re such a good girl for that, though–not letting anyone else watch. 

Frankie: I’m back tomorrow. You have weekend plans? 

You: that’s great! no plans for me

Frankie: You want to watch tomorrow’s episode together? 

You: that would be fun! 

Frankie: Perfect :) 

………

You don’t know why you offered to host. You feel like your place has been a mess. Since Joel left, you’ve been letting your depression piles calcify. You shove your laundry into the washer, toss your unopened mail into a drawer, and do your best to make it look like you’re a fully functioning adult. 

Something about having Frankie over has you feeling pent up. 

You’re nervous. Excited. And you’re still unregulated and exhausted from the emotional devastation of Joel disappearing on you. You’ve been letting yourself sink into the distraction of making a new friend. A hot, new friend. But as helpful as the distraction is, you still haven’t really processed the pain. 

Maybe it’s too soon to let yourself think about Frankie all the time. Maybe you need to really feel your misery and figure out what you missed. What you did wrong. No, even your body rejects that idea, sending a shiver of anxiety through you. 

Fuck it. 

You’re both single adults. There’s no rulebook that says you can’t entertain a new crush. So what’s the harm? You’re hoping that seeing Frankie in person will help you get clarity on the flirty vibe of his texts. Are they truly flirty, or are you just delusional? 

You do your best to find a casual “just watching trash TV” type of outfit after your everything shower. You bought enough snacks to feed a high school football team, you know, just in case. You flutter around your space, hastily cleaning anything else you can think of, worried about details that only an evil in-law would scrutinize you for. 

Despite your frenzy and feeling on edge all afternoon, the concern all seems to vanish when Frankie shows up at your door. You welcome him in and swoon a little over the fresh flowers he brought you. You still have some nerves that don’t relent, but they’re the smiley, giggly, butterfly type of nerves now. 

As you get settled, it all feels surprisingly easy. 

You make each other laugh. You offer your insane spread of snacks, and he settles next to you on your sofa before the episode starts. He appreciates all of your commentary and banters with you over your strongest opinions. It feels surprisingly natural to be spending time together like this. Without an espresso machine between you. 

You’re taken with his presence. He balances you. Even when he debates your controversial takes and unpopular opinions, he doesn’t get worked up like you. 

His calm demeanor is grounding. His nearness and steadiness relaxes you.  

The stress let down makes your head feel heavy, and without thinking, you rest your temple against Frankie’s shoulder with a deep sigh. It feels comforting until you realize how forward you’re being and snap your head back up. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you blurt out, scooting away. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, voice soft and low. 

He’s staring at you so intently. You feel the heat in your face, embarrassed at acting so comfortable with him and self-conscious under his gaze. You still don’t really know what he wants. And you don’t want to fuck anything up. But he doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, you swear his eyes drop to your mouth before they flick back up. 

“More than okay,” he adds, and your stomach flips at his honesty. “Here,” he shifts and invites you to scoot under his arm. You get comfortable, resting your head on his chest. 

You try to watch the TV, but you can feel Frankie watching you. It makes you restless and unable to think clearly. You peer up at him. It’s a charged look; maybe it was already obvious, but you hadn’t felt confident enough to put the pieces together until now. 

“What?” You whisper, unable to fight the smile pulling at your mouth. 

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs. 

Uh oh. Your breath hitches, and something in you cracks. A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you try to hide it, whispering thanks into his chest and looking down. 

“Hey,” he tilts your chin to look up at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to will away the emotions that bubble up inside of you. “That’s really sweet of you.” You steady your breathing, slower and deeper. What is wrong with you? You expected something flirty. You didn’t expect something so.. heartfelt?

The more you slow your breathing, the more it feels like you’re inhaling the essence of Frankie. Whatever combination of laundry detergent, deodorant, body wash, whatever it is is all combined it’s soothing. Nice. It calms you. 

But why? How does just breathing against him make you feel safe? 

You can’t even think about safety. You can’t count on anyone else. What if he leaves out of nowhere, too? Your thoughts pick up, racing. Falling deeper into your anxieties. You aren’t even on a date; you shouldn’t be worried about this guy abandoning you. 

Your fears eat at you, worsening your fragile state. Your body shakes gently as you try to breathe through the anxiety. 

Frankie runs his hand along your back. He’s so warm, solid, and strong. 

You feel like you must seem insane, which makes your emotional flooding worse. He just keeps murmuring at you about how you’re okay, and he pulls you into his arms to give you a firm hug, regulating you. Fixing you. 

When you lean back to apologize for crying on him, he shakes his head in disagreement. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says it like he means it, like he won’t be taking questions or arguments. You sniffle as you do your best to accept that. “You still look beautiful,” he says, pulling you back towards him. 

It’s everything you didn’t know you needed to hear. Your face nestles against his neck. Delirious with your state of mind and his flattery and reassurance. You can’t stop yourself from kissing his neck. The exact spot you’ve been so distracted by on so many mornings. His skin is soft and warm; you can taste your tears, wet and salty on your lips. You do it again before you freeze. What are you doing? 

Frankie’s hand slips up the back of your neck, cradling your head in his warm palm. It feels like encouragement. You test your theory, pressing another gentle kiss to his jaw where his scruffy beard tickles your nose. 

The TV might still be on, but all you can hear is your breathing and his. The sound of your lips against his skin. And the low-pitched noise in Frankie’s throat that urges you on. Provoking a needful fire within you. Intense and frantic. You nip at his ear before stamping open-mouthed kisses back down his neck, pulling back only to breathe hot and humid against his skin. 

You hesitate, a frenzied desire has you wanting to straddle his lap and take more and more, but something makes you pause. Frankie knows. He feels your weight shifting and makes the move for you, pulling you onto his lap. 

“I know,” he says as his large hands wrap around both sides of your jaw. “Keep going.” The encouragement pours over you like warm honey. Face to face, you wrap your arms around his neck. The last thread of your doubt snaps and you close the gap. Pressing your lips together. Softly for a second, before your mouths are parting and your tongues and teeth work fervently to express your desire. 

Then it becomes a desperate blur, your fingers curling into his hair, tugging until he’s groaning into your mouth. His hands slipping under your shirt, hot against your skin, snaking back down to knead the curve of your ass while you roll your hips, grinding into his lap in search of friction. 

You feel him hardening beneath you and a molten hot thrill radiates between your legs. There’s a raw quality to your movements as you bite at his lip, scratch at his shoulders, and whine with a frustrated edge. 

You’re taking out all your emotional distress on him. Or, rather, you’re begging him to erase it all, to bite back harder, to use force, to dominate. You keep trying to use your body instead of words. Just teeth, nails, and needy writhing. Anything sharp, forceful, rough. An offering. 

Tears still roll down your cheeks, hot with anger, anguish, and everything you can’t name. You aren’t interested in exploring your emotions. You need something more visceral. 

You sit back, hands shooting towards Frankie’s belt, chasing more, when he stops you in your tracks. His hand possessively grips below your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

Your cunt throbs at the look on his face. The soft, gentle Frankie is gone. His face is hard and dangerous as he studies you. For some reason that makes you want him even more. 

His fingers dig into your cheek eliciting a sharp inhale from you, parting your lips into a small “o” shape, before he releases you. You know you’re a mess. Teary, panting, wild-eyed–but his lips curl into sinful grin. Reflexively you tilt your pelvis, drawing the heat of your core along the ridge of his erection. Your eyes flutter shut, as you aim to forget yourself and focus on the sensation. 

But his chest shakes, jostling you in his lap, with his rumbly, dark chuckle. It’s condescending, startling you and stilling your hips. You blink at Frankie. The charged air is thick. The rest of the room has faded. Your brows furrow as you wonder, but your thighs tense. 

“Keep going.” 

It’s a demand this time, not an affirmation or encourager. His sinister smirk is gone, replaced by a frighteningly blank stare. His carnivorous eyes drop, watching your fingers as you work open his belt and jeans. 

Shit. You can tell he’s big as you trace your fingers along his cock, over his boxers, savoring the heat in your palm. The damp fabric at the tip pleases you, and you peel the waistband down to reveal the glorious vision that has you wetting your lips. 

“Shit,” you repeat out loud this time. A primal, hungry need possesses you as you admire his cock. The glistening head, thick shaft, and dark patch of curls at the base. Just the sight of him is intoxicatingly masculine and dominant. 

You need him in your mouth. 

You slink off his lap, sinking to your knees between his legs. Excitement flutters in your pussy and you feel like you’ve fallen into a into a trance. Your body moves faster than your mind, tugging at his jeans as he repositions at the edge of the couch. 

“I know,” he mutters under his breath as you wrap your hand around the smooth skin. “I know what you need,” he continues. You can only hum in response. Preoccupied by the slip of your thumb dragging a trail of precome down along the underside of his cock. 

He cups the back of your head, urging you towards his tip with a commanding open growled down at you. You want to pout for not getting the chance to tease and savor the moment, but you don’t have the time when he slides past your lips and hits the back of your throat. 

You choke, sputtering around him and pulling back. His hand encourages you to try again and you’re eager to take it like he gives it. Refocusing on controlling your breath, you look up to see the fierceness in his eyes on his otherwise blank face. A confusing mix of warning and excitement stirs in your core, making you squirm on your knees. 

The discomfort makes something flicker across his face. 

You try again, determined, like you’ve got something to prove. You pull his other hand to your cheek. Please lead. You catch the start of a smirk on his face before he’s guiding you once again. It makes your mind blank; all you can do is breathe and focus on relaxing your muscles. It’s a welcome release from the stress. Grounding you in the present. You can only think as fast as he can glide along your tongue. 

As you build a rhythm, he verges on brutal, but when you’re rewarded with the delicious sound of Frankie groaning because of you the intensity means nothing. Your eyes water as you refuse to gag out of sheer willpower. His thumb smears your tears across your cheekbone, and he pulls you off of his cock.

He takes in your swollen lips, ragged breathing, and wet lashes like he’s committing the details to memory as you catch your breath, before he’s tapping at your cheek. You open wide for him and he rests the head of his cock on your tongue, shallowly tipping you back and forth. 

Your jaw could be aching or your knees may be digging into the rug, but it doesn’t matter to you. It’s much easier to meditate on the weight of his length slipping along your wet tongue. Centering yourself on that thought, your eyes flutter shut. 

You wonder if this side of Frankie has always been lurking beneath the surface. Chillingly collected, but with something viscous bleeding into the edges. You wonder if maybe you’ve called to this part of him with the mayhem of your state of mind. 

“Yeah,” Frankie rasps in his gravelly tone causing you to blink back up at him. You wonder if he can read your mind; if he was answering you. The hint of a smile remains on the corner of his lips when you look up, “Making you feel better already.” He’s presumptive but accurate. 

You give a muffled affirmation that vibrates in your throat as he slides past your lips and you take him deep as he can be. All your senses are filled with Frankie when you inhale, when you swallow, when you blink. You give, pliant for him, trusting him with the control. You don’t worry about how obscene you might look with tears rolling down your cheeks. You just want to hear what other sounds he might make for you. His thumb drags over your cheek again, wiping away the wet streaks. 

“This is the only reason you ever cry for me.” Frankie’s voice is dripping with affection. And possession. 

It makes everything foggy. The sentiment, the delivery, the authority. He doesn’t let you dwell on the unspoken commitment in his statement. Doesn’t give you the time to question him or spiral inward. 

Your head swims until he pulls you up, strips you, and settles you back onto his lap. Some action movie autoplayed after your episode ended. The crashing and explosions of the chase scene in the background don’t ruin the moment, in a twisted way it’s almost a fitting soundtrack for the two of you. 

Frankie allows you to pull his shirt up, over his head, and time slows. The warmth radiating between your bodies is nothing compared to the searing heat of Frankie’s gaze. It’s dizzying, between his torrid expression and his grip on your hips as he guides you closer. 

You go entirely mindless when the head of his cock nudges your clit, gasping as he slips along your wet seam. It brings everything into focus for you, and you reach between your bodies to guide him directly to your deplorably empty cunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” your word turns to a groan as he breaches your entrance, and you tense at the stretch, holding still. 

“Keep going,” he orders lowly, and you inch down until he impatiently takes control, slamming you down until you meet his hips. Your mouth hangs open at his move and the immediate fullness. His hardened look softens as your walls ripple and flex, adjusting to his size. 

At least until you start moving, grinding against him, slowly at first. Then the sharp sternness returns. You’re unaware, chasing the friction as your clit rubs against the dark hair surrounding the base of his cock. 

“Knew you’d be perfect,” he says it more like an I told you so to himself than praise for you, but the words affect you just the same. Your chest rises, swelling with pride, and you chase his approval instead of your pleasure. 

You ride him until your thighs burn. His hands are everywhere. Rolling your nipples between his fingers, squeezing all of your soft curves, spreading your legs wider to watch where he disappears inside of you. You bounce eagerly for him, spine arching to draw his eyes to the way your tits ripple from the force of your body colliding into his. 

You whine in disapproval when he interrupts you, pulling you flush against his chest, grazing his teeth along your neck. “Give it to me,” Frankie demands, his voice rough and raw, breath hot along your sweat-damp skin. 

He runs his hand down your body, thumb circling your clit, adding the pressure you need. You edge closer and closer, body taut with anticipation. “Come for me,” he commands. It’s the authority and his gravelly voice rolling through you that launches you into a shuddering release. 

Frankie continues talking while you’re disoriented by the overwhelming pleasure. “For me,” he grunts through clenched teeth as your pussy contracts around him. “I know that’s what you need.” You can only moan as you cling to his broad shoulders. “Only me.” 

You figure he’s just rambling until he grabs you by the jaw again, demanding you respond. Demanding you repeat it for him. And you do. With glassy eyes and you mutter his words back to him. Declaring you only come for him. That you need him. 

Your words unlock something within Frankie. “Good,” he approves. “Good girl.” He praises you gruffly as he holds you steady, pounding into you with an untamed strength. You’re floating, starry-eyed and softheaded at his praise. Murmuring sentence fragments and his name, conjuring throaty grunts from Frankie until he stills, coming deep inside of you. “Only me,” he echoes and you confirm. 

“Only you.” 

In your unguarded state, it’s a welcome commitment. Maybe you haven’t had any real dates yet, but he knows you. He wants you. He tells you he wants to take care of you, and that feels fucking good. 

You collapse against his chest, matching his breathing. The movie playing behind you reaches a tragic twist, setting the third act in motion and solidifying the protagonists dark path. You run your tongue along the column of Frankie’s throat as the score of the film hangs unresolved on a dissonant chord. He pulls you to his lips, kissing you possessively and captivating you. 

Your bodies flow, connected and attuned. In his lap, in his arms, with his tongue slipping between your lips, you feel wanted. Assured. Content to accept that he knows what you need. 

And he’s unrelenting. Determined to prove it to you. Again and again. 

All night. On the couch, in the shower, in your bed. 

Until the night bleeds into the morning and he doesn’t disappear. 

You take turns waking and watching one another sleep. Verifying he’s real. Watching your chest rise and fall before drifting off again. Until the sun heats your room and you wake again to find yourself curled into his broad frame. His chest to your back as he draws his fingers down your along the dip and swell of your waist and hip. 

“Did you mean it?” you ask, in a strikingly solemn tone for the soft setting. Breath shallow as you stare off toward the window. Not ready to turn and face him in the daylight. 

“Every word.” He punctuates his affirmation with a tender kiss behind your ear. His reassurance satisfies you; warmth blooms from your chest spreading to your fingers and toes. 

You spend a lazy Sunday together. Eating, laughing, fucking, and gazing at each other like lovesick teenagers. It’s too sweet to end. Instead, you become inseparable, taking turns staying at each other’s places until you have to go back. 

The world feels bright again. Lighter. 

He had paid such close attention as you got to know each other. He’s almost suspiciously perfect. Picking up your favorite takeout meals, putting on your favorite movies, and keeping your flowers fresh as the weeks pass. 

You feel like you can never get enough of him somehow. You think about him all day at work, even though he still visits you every morning like clockwork. Your heart swells when he meets you at the end of your shift to walk you home. 

You find yourself canceling your happy hour dates with friends to stay in with Frankie instead. Postponing and rescheduling, you’ll see them soon. It’s like there aren’t enough minutes in the day to get your fill of Frankie. 

You’re insatiable, always needing him in your mouth, between your legs, fucking you through the mattress, on the counter, any surface you can find. You’re never too much. He’s equally infatuated with you, a mutual obsession. Fulfilling your darker desires and unleashing fantasies you’ve never felt safe enough to explore. He’s greedy and hungry for you. Making you feel wanted and desired. 

With your head in the clouds, all you can see is how much he cares about you. He texts you whenever you’re apart, picks you up after your shifts, shows you off to his friends. 

You barely have to do anything for yourself. He’s always thinking of you, predicting your needs before know them yourself. He picks up your mail for you, runs errands before you get home, and stocks his apartment with all of the products you use and love so you don’t have to go home for days at a time. 

Things are so good that it’s rare when something goes wrong. 

But when it does, it really fucking hurts. 

When you get into an argument, a real one, he doesn’t fight with you. He leaves, swiftly and without another word. He doesn’t respond to your texts or calls. It feels like you’ve been torn in half; you sob and shake alone in your bed until your alarm blares and your headache throbs. 

He doesn’t respond the following day, doesn’t come in for coffee, and doesn’t show any signs of existing. You move through your shift like a hollow corpse haunting the cafe. Time drags agonizingly slowly. 

Every time the door opens your eyes snap towards the entrance, hoping to see the familiar curls and broad shoulders, but it’s not him. You restart your phone just on the odd chance there’s something wrong with it. He wouldn’t abandon you. He knows that would destroy you. 

The void in your chest is cold and dark. Anger simmers somewhere inside of it, but it’s not strong enough to set you off. When Frankie shows up at the end of your shift, the anger is snuffed out completely. His presence immediately reverses your heartbreak, and suddenly you’re apologizing to him before he gets a word out. 

You have to. He has to know you wouldn’t do anything to make him leave. He can’t. He’s calm, accepting your apology and taking you home where he erases your pain. With his hands, and mouth, and cock. Until you forget what the argument was ever about, and what it felt like to watch him walk away. Until it’s back to normal. 

Every day you rely on him more and more; you can’t breathe without him. But when he’s with you, everything feels easy. Right. 

Not many things can throw the two of you off. Your friends seem happy enough for you, despite their questions and insistence that you come out with them more often. You get along well with Frankie’s friends. They’re quick witted and welcome you genuinely. 

They treat you like family, but it doesn’t stop Frankie’s jealousy from flaring up. If Benny smiles at you for too long or if you rest a hand on Will’s bicep when you laugh it only takes minutes before Frankie’s fingers dig into your arm and he whisks you away. 

It gives you a perverse thrill every time. 

When he folds you over the bathroom counter at his friend’s house. Demanding you watch in the mirror as he reminds you with a fierce snarl and devastating thrusts that you’re his. When you can still hear his friends horseing around outside, but he pounds into you with such force, you can’t quiet yourself. He slaps a hand around your mouth to silence you, growling into your ear that you’ll take it quietly, like a good girl. 

Sometimes you aren’t even sure what triggers him. 

Like when he fucks you against the side of his SUV in the parking lot of the trendy bar Benny had invited you both to. All you can piece together is Frankie muttering something about your dress as he yanks the top of it down letting your tits spill into the cool night air. He’s reckless and animalistic, claiming you roughly under the stars and streetlights before you can even get into the car let alone through your front door.

…..

Tonight, you both know exactly what got under his skin. Maybe not the why of it all, but he’s sure you know how he feels, and he wants to hear you say it. 

It started this afternoon. He picked you up from work, like usual, and you chatted in the car as he drove to the grocery store. You sighed, tiredly as you recounted an exchange with a rude customer, but when Frankie pulled your hand towards his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the delicate skin on your inner wrist. 

Predictably, it brightened your features. Knowing your buttons doesn’t dull the intoxicating effect you have on him, though. He loves the way you light up so easily for him and it serves to deepen his conviction time and time again. Like a constant affirmation that he is where he is supposed to be. That everything he does for is exactly what he should be doing. Exactly what you need. 

He was still ruminating on this as you led him through the aisles of the grocery store. Unbothered that you had to double back to the produce section after forgetting some fresh herb you determined was crucial to the dish you planned out. You dashed around the corner in front of him, with a giggle when Frankie’s heart stilled. 

He didn’t have time to distract you. Your laughter cut off immediately. 

“What the fuck?” you muttered and Frankie grabbed your hand. 

Joel’s pace quickened as he brushed past you. Your head turned, calling his name once, but Joel carried on as if you didn’t exist. Frankie studied your face, emotions flooded your expression as you watched Joel walking away. Something darker flickered across them. 

Frankie followed your line of sight. Flowers. Joel was carrying a bouquet of flowers.

You apologized to Frankie. Clearly thrown off, but determined not to let it get to you or to Frankie. 

“I didn’t know he even lived here still,” you remarked. 

He doesn’t. The possessive fire burned through Frankie’s veins. “We’re going,” he commanded in a low tone that made your eyes flare wide. 

“What?”

“Now.”

“We can’t leave everything.” 

“They won’t arrest us.” He argued, as he all but carried you out the door, ushering you in a blur to his car and all the way home. Frankie moved swiftly and silently. Wholly consumed by the need to feel you writhing underneath him and crying out his name. He needed it so viscerally, he didn’t even have time to process how he was going to deal with Joel. 

Until you’re breathless and shuddering beneath him. Repeating everything he wants to hear. 

“Only for you,” you repeat as you rake your nails down his shoulder blades and the plane of his back. 

“Again,” he demands. You don’t know if he wants you to keep talking or to come again, but both are inevitable at this point. 

“I’m yours,” you pant, wrapping your legs around him as if you could pull him any deeper inside of you. He shifts slightly, angling your hips and your cunt clenches around him pulling him devastatingly close to the edge as you moan his name. 

He stills and you whine in protest as Frankie stretches past you to pick his phone up off the bedside table. “Keep going,” he orders as he points the lens at you. He needs you to say it again. He adjusts to resume his pace, snapping his hips into causing your lips to part with another moan. 

“I’m yours,” you repeat, “all yours.” He gives you a dark smile as he records you. Capturing all the lewd, wet sounds as he drives his cock into you, the euphoric smile that spreads on your face, and the words you know he always wants to hear. 

“Mine,” he agrees. 

……

You don’t see Joel again. And you don’t have time to dwell on the encounter anyway. Frankie keeps you busy and satisfied, and even surprises you by asking you to move in with him officially. Maybe it feels soon, but you spend nearly every day together anyway and the idea delights you. 

It’s an easy transition. You downsize some of your duplicate appliances, joking with him about how he must have great taste for having so many of the same products. He admits that you inspired a few of his purchases. 

You settle into a routine quickly, not much changes. 

Sometimes in the early morning, when you slip out of bed in the dark to get ready for your shift, you wonder if it’s all real. If someone can care about you as deeply as you care about them. But by the time you’re showered and dressed, he greets you with a sleepy kiss before pulling on his usual workout attire and driving you to work. 

You let your gaze linger this morning. Trailing along his profile as he drives, admiring all the details that you used to wonder about from the other side of the counter. His neck, those arms, his hands, those lips. They’re illuminated in flashes as you pass under the streetlights. 

You catch the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He always knows when you’re looking. He rests a hand just above your knee. He always knows what you need. And idea takes root in your mind, and you do everything to stop yourself from smiling and giving yourself away. It’ll take a few days to organize. He’s almost impossible to surprise. 

……

Later in the week, Frankie is on autopilot. Kicking off his shoes and pulling his sweaty shirt over his head before he lopes towards the ensuite for a shower. He only makes it a few strides before he’s on edge, noticing the lights he didn’t remember leaving on. He hears your voice. Relief and confusion twist together in his chest. How did you get back here before him? 

Walking into the bedroom you are a sexy surprise wrapped in red lingerie he’s never seen you wear before, but something is wrong. Your shoulders are curled inward, your cheeks are wet, and you’re hastily tying up your matching red satin robe. 

He scans the room, swallowing thickly when he notices the open coset door and the missing box on the shelf. 

He calls your name softly. 

“What is this, Frankie?” your voice shakes. Unsteady and wavering between fear and anger. 

You hold up his phone. Well, his other phone. Shit. 

…..

“Answer me,” you beg. Desperate for an explanation. For something to make sense. To understand how you went looking for the box with fuzzy handcuffs and instead found a phone with a new message from a number you still recognized. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and when he takes you into his arms you flinch. You want to shove him off of you. Despite your hostility, your body is still drawn to his. He always knows what you need. In his arms your heart feels tethered to his, like they could merge through the proximity of your rib cages. Like they beat for each other. 

“You trust me, right?” he asks. 

“Explain, please,” is all you can whisper. 

“It was to keep you safe,” he starts. 

“From what?” 

“To protect you. Joel wasn’t good for you. He couldn’t take care of you. Not the way you deserve.” 

“How would you know?” it’s still not making sense to you. 

“You told me.” He’s so self-assured. Like, he’s always right. Like, he can’t even imagine why you’d be upset right now. “I did it for you,” he adds. 

“Did what?” you need him to say it out loud. You need him to fix this. 

“I know you thought Joel was trying, but he was only going to drag it out. Disappoint you over and over. Can you imagine what it would’ve been like for me to watch you go through that?” 

You don’t answer. 

“I couldn’t watch. I made him an offer, but he’s a stubborn man.” 

You snort quietly at that understatement. Nobody tells Joel what to do. 

“I just had to find the right leverage.” 

Frankie holds you so tight, you can’t wriggle around to look him in the eyes. 

“He couldn’t give you what you need, not like I can. I know what you need. And, think of how fast you got over him anyway. You were mine all along.” 

You’re lightheaded. From the shock of finding the evidence. From his words. From the way you believe him. You want to sit down. You tap at his arms insistently, begging against his chest, but he keeps talking. His deep voice rumbling in your ears. 

“You wouldn’t have understood it then. I had to keep it from you to protect you. So we could have what we have now.” He’s not listening to you. Not letting you go. It makes you snap. 

“Let go of me!” 

“You have to understand first.” 

“I’ll listen,” you plead. “Just let me breathe.” He lets you step back, but doesn’t release you from his grip. His hands are glued to your arms. He waits, steady and chillingly calm.

Slowly, the pieces start to fall into place. The unanswered questions from your breakup. The way Joel completely vanished. 

“I thought he just left,” you whisper to yourself. 

“He did,” Frankie argues. 

“I thought he didn’t want me,” you continue. 

“He didn’t. Not the way that I want you.” 

Something cold trickles down your spine and you look at Frankie. For a moment he’s a complete stranger. Your stomach sinks and your vision spins. Slamming your eyes shut you filter through your racing thoughts. 

It wasn’t fate that led you into Frankie’s arms. 

You wound up crying on his cock by design, trying to fuck away the pain of a heartbreak that wasn’t even real. You’ve fallen into a whole new life, while the man you had loved may have never stopped loving you back? 

“You blackmailed Joel Miller?” 

“Technically, it’s extortion.” 

It’s all there on the surface. Exposed between the two of you. Who Frankie really is. Cunning and competent. Devoted and dangerous. Possessive and powerful. 

“It worked, until he came to town for someone’s engagement party.” 

“When we saw him at the store?” Frankie nods. “And then you sent him the video we made.” 

“Hearing it from you seemed to do the trick. He knows you’re mine and you only want me.” 

Frankie gives you time to study him. Absorbing the information. The gleam in his dark eyes. The same eyes from when he would visit you at work. Just as fierce and just as earnest. 

You’ve always known him for his true self. He’s been yours since he first laid eyes on you. And he knew you needed him. 

“And you did it… for us.” 

“For you.” 

You can see it plainly on his face. He’d do it again and again to have you. Because you’re his. It’s all you ever wanted. It has to be wrong, but it’s the hottest thing anyone has ever done for you. 

You push him back towards the bed, climbing onto his lap in a recreation of the first night you spent together. It’s reflexive. The magnetic pull between you has your hips rolling in his lap as he’s already hardening beneath you. 

“You’re sick,” you tell him before you lick a hot stripe up his neck. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls back before you’re crashing into him with a ravenous kiss.  

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40 tags for folks who seemed interested when i shared a lil wip about it (aka no worries tags)

@hoelaris @punkseyes @ace-turned-confused @magneticecstasy @lotusbxtch

@bitchesuntitled

@baronessvonglitter

@thundermartini @milla-frenchy

[aurorawritestoescape]

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your thighs, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

[eff4freddie]

Play With Her

Explicit - 18+ Minors DNI

A sequel to Play With It

Words: 4k

You and Joel have fond memories of the last time he called you from work. But a slight misunderstanding leads to some fun with your neighbour, and to you ( accidentally) fulfilling one of Joel’s secret fantasies.

Warnings: SMUT, people. So much. Smut. Oral (m and f receiving), phone sex, mmf (kinda), Joel talks his girl through it like a gentleman, surprise Frankie, Joel’s a little shocked but he is very into it, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Joel being kinda soft dom again.

You hadn’t forgotten Joel’s antics in his car in the middle of a workday, but despite a particularly explosive afternoon immediately following, you hadn’t had the time to properly get him back. It hadn’t been either of your faults, just that work continued to be relentless, something went wrong at the site, materials weren’t delivered, the vendors got mad. You developed a little twitch in your eyelid. Joel came home rubbing his neck and shoulders and turning the kitchen upside down trying to find the heat pack.

You knew there was love there, that there was passion. You weren’t worried about it, even though you missed him. You knew that it was situational. When the air cleared, you’d get back to taking each other apart.

--

Joel woke up early again, groaning as his muscles ached like they hadn’t had any rest at all. You were in bed beside him, and he knew that you’d had a late shift but you’d managed to rack up enough overtime that today you had the whole day to yourself. He was so proud of you, his little worker bee, and even though he was disappointed your schedules hadn’t aligned so that he could enjoy the day with you, or on top of you, he still knew it was good for you. He left a little note on your bedside, telling you he was gonna call around lunchtime. He marked it with two x’s and two o’s. For a second he imagined actually peppering your skin with kisses.

‘Soon, baby,’ he said, to your sleeping form. He was quiet in his socks on the carpet as he left.

On the way out the door, piece of toast between his teeth, he looked over the front lawn. It was getting out of control, and he’d been meaning to cut it, but he just couldn’t find the energy on a weekend, and as the days were gettin’ shorter as the weather changed, he was leaving in the dark, home in the dark. He didn’t like the look of the lawn, worried that the state of the grass was a direct reflection of the state of his aging body, of his bone-deep fatigue most days. That the neighbours would twig he was getting older, purely by the weeds spreading their tendrils over the path to the door.

‘Morning, Joel,’ he heard a voice call, and he glanced over to next door’s patio, where one such neighbour was standing with the newspaper in his hands.

‘Frankie,’ he said, nodding his head. He got on well with Frankie, even if he wasn’t 100% sure he trusted him all the time. He had a kid he had over every other weekend, who Sarah adored, and other than that he lived alone. Ex-military, he reminded Joel of Tommy, and he tried to be sensitive knowing some of the shit he must have seen. He didn’t seem lonely, he was handy and knew how to get Joel’s truck going when the engine was on the fritz, and more than anything he treated you respectful, tipped his cap when you walked by, and Joel liked that. Appreciated the manners.

‘Early start,’ Frankie said, and Joel sighed. He rested a hand on his hip.

‘Too early,’ he grunted, and the younger man smiled knowingly at him. As Joel moved to the truck he limped a little, his hip bothering him after he carried some lumber the wrong way on the site a few days ago.

‘You ok?’ Frankie asked. Frankie noticed everything, Joel knew. It would have kept him alive in his last job, he supposed.

‘Yeah, just gettin’ old, getting’ tired.’ Joel nodded to the lawn. ‘Can’t you tell?’

‘Could help you with that, got the day clear today and…well, don’t have other plans.’

Joel had seen Frankie out on his back porch drinking on his own, sometimes with a couple of other men who all looked a similar age, similar previous occupations. He didn’t mind so long as they kept it down and didn’t catch your eye too much.

‘Can’t ask ya for that,’ Joel started, but Frankie waved him away.

‘You’re not. I’m offering, hermano.’

Joel nodded. It might be a nice surprise for you, he thought, to have the house reclaim some of its street appeal. Lord knew it didn’t have much to start with.

Sitting in his truck he fired off a quick message to you so you wouldn’t be surprised by Frankie on your front lawn. ‘Organised a sruprise 4 you, baby xxoo,’ he wrote. He was going to be late. He sent it without too much thought.

--

You woke, lifting your arms up over your head and listening to the pops of your joints as the stretch moved up your spine. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a day off. You had no idea what you were going to do with your spare time.

After a second or two of blissful cotton-headedness, you noticed a droning sound from the front of the house. You stood on achy knees and padded over to the window. Surely Joel hadn’t taken the day off too, with the worksite being so crazy lately?

You sucked in a tight little breath when you saw him. Shirtless, with his curls poking out the side of his ballcap, pushing his lawnmower over your unruly grass in the late-morning sun. You scrabbled for your phone to check the time and also to try and orient yourself, to make sure you hadn’t accidentally fallen through a wormhole in your sleep, as though Siri would be able to tell you one way or the other.

You saw the message from Joel. A surprise? You glanced around the room, looking for any clues. Eventually your eyes fell on a scrap of paper on your bedside, and you read that, too. For a second you stood, confused, trying to put the pieces together. He had organised a surprise, there was a half-naked man on your lawn, and he was going to call you at lunchtime. And you remembered exactly what transpired the last time he did that.

Your felt your brows shoot up to your hairline as realisation dawned. Did he know you’d had a crush on Frankie since the moment he’d moved in next door? How could he know, you’d been so careful not to stare too long, not to smile too much. You’d felt the sparks, and you’d poured cold water of them well enough, you’d thought.

But nothing got past Joel. You couldn’t believe it, but also you definitely could.

A surprise for you? No. This time you were going to be one step ahead.

--

Joel didn’t like to eat his lunch in the truck, never fully able to get the tang of egg salad out of the upholstery after, but this time he made an exception. He’d pulled back around to where it was quiet, knowing some of the guys on site liked to pump the tunes during their breaks, set up a little jerry-rigged tailgate to try and while away the 40 minutes they had to themselves. He thought with a shiver about the last time he’d snuck off to park somewhere quiet. He let himself wonder for a moment if you’d be up for something like a repeat. He grinned a little as he dialled. He didn’t think he should push his luck.

The call connected almost straight away, like you’d been waiting for him, and he felt a little flutter in his heart. You were so sweet to him. He needed to take you out somewhere special soon, make you flutter for a little while.

‘Hey baby,’ you said, your voice high and breathy, and he guessed you were still in bed.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said, teasin’ you.

‘Mmm,’ you said, ‘no cameras this time?’

‘We can if you want, baby, but I was just calling to check in on ya.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, and to make sure Frankie’s doing his job,’ he said, chuckling a little.

‘Frankie’s doing just fine,’ you said, and you sounded weird somehow, maybe a little out of breath?

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, and you hummed in response.

‘Wanna see you,’ you said, and he felt a shiver up the base of his spine. He knew that tone. He felt the smirk appear on his face.

‘Yeah, you sound like ya do,’ he said. He took the phone from his ear and connected Facetime. He heard you doing the same.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. He’d assumed you were in bed, so he was surprised to see you were up, standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the front lawn. Your cheeks were a little flushed, and you looked a little sweaty. He wondered if you’d been for a run.

‘There’s my girl,’ he said, because the sight of you always lit something up in him, and you smiled at him, a coy little thing.

‘I got a surprise for you,’ you said, a dimple appearing on your cheek as you arched a single brow at him.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, feeling his cock stir. Maybe you were up for a repeat after all.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, biting your lip. You were holding the phone up with one arm, but he could see your other arm held fast in front of you. Were you touching yourself in the living room?

‘Show me,’ he said, and you grinned at him. You panned the camera down, slowly, so that first thing he saw was the straps of your camisole, one hanging off your shoulder to hover just over the swell of your tit. You lowered it again, over the belly, where you had shucked up the hem and he could see some exposed skin, your little belly button he sometimes liked to tickle with his beard just to hear you squirm and squeal.

Then a little further down. Angling the camera so that he could see down your body, to your feet on the carpet, and to the man on his knees between them.

Joel blinked. He was sure his heart stopped.

‘What…’ he started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because he was too distracted by the man hitching one of your thighs over his shoulder and opening you up, teasing the lips of your pussy apart to properly latch to your cunt. ‘Oh my god,’ he uttered.

‘Oh my god!’ you gasped, as Frankie sucked your clit between his teeth. ‘Oh baby, he’s so good,’ you groaned.

‘Baby, what are you doing?’ Joel asked, trying not to overthink that his cock was rock hard while he watched another man lick a stripe along your seam.

‘Surprise…’ you gasped. ‘Got a head start.’

Joel’s hands were shaking. A head start on what? He watched as your hand gripped Frankie’s head, his ballcap on the floor beside him as he grasped at your hips, pulling you down harder on his face. You were squirming there on top of him, as he huffed out little exhales into your skin.

Your breath was starting to get faster, coming in little pants, as your thigh clenched around Frankie’s shoulder. For a brief moment you worried you were going to suffocate him, and then he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh and teased at your opening and you simply didn’t care.

You angled the phone back to your face, your eyes fluttering shut so that you didn’t see Joel’s slightly shocked expression.

‘Such a good surprise, baby, thank you,’ you said, and Joel felt his belly flip in on itself. You were blissed out, he could see just by your face you were half gone already. Your little whimpers were sending electric shocks to his cock. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, or that he had wanted to see it ever since Frankie appeared next door. He just assumed you’d never be into it, and now looking at you writhing he couldn’t remember why.

He swallowed on a dry throat. You cracked open an eye, noticing he’d stopped talking. You saw that he looked a little pale, and worried for a second he was regretting it.

‘He’s not better,’ you said, trying to form words to reassure him while Frankie was pushing any sensible thought out of your head with his tongue. ‘He’s good, just as good. It’s just different.’

You were shuddering a little, Joel could see that you were trembling from the pleasure the other man was wringing out of you. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because he didn’t want to take this from you when you’d accidentally given him something he thought he would only ever dream of, not when you were feeling so good, not when you had apparently read his (dirty, filthy) mind. Because he was enjoying it, if he could tame the beast that was howling mine mine mine every time you whimpered under Frankie’s tongue. Because, ok, this wasn’t what he had planned for the day, but it was so much better.

His cock was already so hard it was almost painful. His beautiful, dirty girl. ‘He eatin’ it right, baby?’ he asked, and you moaned a little in response. He heard Frankie grunt a little from beneath you. ‘Show me,’ he said.

You angled the phone down again, this time reaching to put it closer to your cunt, so that Joel could see the way Frankie was suckling at your cunt, the way his tongue was working his way in and out of you, how at some point he had slipped two fingers into your cunt and was pumping them slowly, angled in the way Joel knew you liked, the way that made you stutter.

‘Fuck…’ he groaned, as Frankie huffed out an exhale.

‘She’s good, man,’ Frankie said, pulling his mouth off you for just long enough to force out the words. ‘Tastes like a warm spring morning.’

Joel could feel his cock pulsing, could hardly hear for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

‘You treat her right,’ he ground out, his jaw ticking. He could feel the furrow in his brows, knew he was almost glowering at Frankie. ‘That’s my girl you got there,’ he added, feeling the need to remind him. To remind himself.

‘She always get this wet for you?’ Frankie asked, and Joel practically growled. He was about to tell Frankie you could practically drown him every night when he noticed your thighs were trembling, your hand in his hair moving to his shoulder to try and get purchase.

‘Lay ‘er down,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t let her fall.’

The camera moved, blurred as Frankie got up off his knees and pulled you over to the couch. He heard you sigh as your muscles relaxed, Frankie lying you down and settling between your open thighs.

‘Thank you, baby,’ you whispered to Joel. He swallowed.

‘Look after you,’ he said, fumbling with his fly. He was rock hard and worried as soon as he held himself in his hand he’d nut like a teenager. He wanted to ride this out with you, wanted to be present for all of it, wanted to stave it off as much as he wanted to chase it down.

‘Oh, he’s got his fingers in me,’ you said, gasping. ‘They’re so thick, just like yours…’

‘He hittin’ the spot?’ Joel asked, as you angled the camera down your body and he saw Frankie hovering over your cunt, lips once again suctioning at your clit.

‘Mmmhmm’ you replied, breathless. ‘He’s good, baby, he’s so good.’

Joel couldn’t form words for a second, gripping the base of his cock to try and regain some sort of control over it.

‘Wish you were here,’ you said, as you pushed your hips down onto Frankie’s face.

‘Yeah?’ Joel asked, wincing as he drew his palm over the weeping, sensitive head. ‘What’d you do if I was there, baby?’ he asked.

‘Want you everywhere,’ you groaned. ‘Want you in my mouth, in my pussy while he sucks on my clit. Want you in my cunt while I suck him.’

Joel gasped, his eyes slamming shut as his head tilted back on his shoulders. You were going to be the fucking death of him, and he would happily go if this was how you’d go about it.

‘Want your tight little cunt, baby,’ he grunted, pumping now, not able to help himself, the want for you overwhelming as Frankie raised his head a little to eye him through the camera. Your hips were bucking now, involuntary and fast. ‘Play with her,’ Joel said to him. ‘Don’t let her come yet, not ‘til she’s earned it.’

He heard you whimper, a desperate little cry, and watched as Frankie pulled back. Joel watched as his face glistened with your slick.

‘Joel!’ you cried, and he sniggered a little.

‘Ain’t what I meant when I said you could cut my grass,’ he said to Frankie, who grinned at him.

‘Not my fault your girl’s got a delicious cunt,’ he said, shrugging.

‘Let me see her,’ Joel said. He held his breath as Frankie took the phone from you and angled it back towards you. He saw you, splayed out on the couch for him and for Frankie, one leg on the floor and the other held fast against the couch, your slick spread over your thighs as your pussy grasped at the air, desperate for something to lick it, to suck it, to fuck it. ‘Jesus,’ Joel said, staring at your folds.

‘Don’t know how you leave the house with this waiting for ya, hermano,’ Frankie said. Joel shook his head.

‘M’a damn fool,’ he agreed. He saw you giggle, and he smiled.

‘Get on your knees for him, baby,’ he said, and watched as your smile fell, shock and want painting your pretty face.

‘You sure?’ you asked, so quiet he almost didn’t hear.

‘You wanna be good to our guest, right?’ Joel teased, and he watched you smile.

‘I’m a good host,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘The best, baby. Go on now, make him feel welcome.’

‘Oh fuck, Joel,’ Frankie muttered, as you got up on your knees on the couch and crawled over to him, your eyes on the younger man’s cock.

‘Just wait ‘til you see what she can do with that slutty little mouth,’ Joel said. He was holding himself by the base again, almost holding his breath in anticipation. Frankie angled the camera down his body so that Joel could see your hand as you reached out to hold him.

‘It’s big,’ you said, looking up and straight at Joel through the camera. You could see how far gone he was, how much he was holding himself back. You felt more arousal pool between your legs just at the look on his face.

‘You can take it,’ Joel said. ‘Make it good for him, baby.’

You watched as he mirrored your smile. God, you loved him. Even now, with another man’s cock in your face, he was the love of your life and as soon as he was home again you’d tell him. Show him. Never let him doubt it for a second.

You extended your tongue to kitten lick at Frankie’s tip, tasting the pre-come that had gathered while you and Joel encouraged each other. You heard the twin groans of Frankie above you and Joel through the phone. You hitched your mouth over the head, gathering saliva and letting it run out over the sides. Frankie was big, but so was Joel, and you breathed through your nose as you slipped your mouth over him, opening your throat and trying to calm your racing heart.

‘Oh, fuck me,’ Frankie said, as Joel held his breath. You hollowed your cheeks, a bolt of want shooting through your cunt as Frankie stuttered, groaning low and heavy in his chest. He smelt faintly of Old Spice and grass clippings, and you tasted the salt on his skin of his exertion. Joel smelt of pine and lumber. Between the two of them they were a symphony of delicious masculinity.

‘Can you reach her tits?’ you heard Joel ask, shivering. Frankie grunted his ascent. ‘Reach down, if you play with her nipples she’ll soak the couch.’

You whimpered, breathing out hard through your nose as you worked Frankie further into your throat.

‘Look at me, baby.’ Joel instructed and you opened your eyes, letting them travel up Frankie’s glistening tanned body to catch Joel’s eyes. You could see he was working himself again, panting and squirming in the driver’s seat of his truck. His hands were trembling a little, causing your view of him to shake, and it matched the tremors that were coursing through your body as you sucked Frankie down.

You felt his hand grope at your tit and you rounded your spine to try and give him more room, sticking your butt out into the air in the process. You kept your eyes on Joel, fighting the urge to let them drift closed, wanting to watch him watching you with another man’s cock in your mouth.

‘Doin’ so good,’ Joel muttered and you preened under his praise. ‘Put your hand between your legs, rub that little clit.’

You whined, following his instruction, a little lightheaded from the heat and the desire and Frankie halfway down your throat. ‘Such a pretty girl, my beautiful girl,’ Joel prattled. ‘Love you like this, baby, throat all stretched out taking on another man.’

Your eyelids fluttered as his words hit you in your core, Frankie’s hips starting to roll as you eased your finger over your clit and started rubbing tight little circles on the bundle of nerves. Frankie pinched hard at your nipple and you gasped, sucking in air through your nose and trying not to gag in the process.

‘Oh fuck, she’s squeezing me with her throat, hermano,’ Frankie muttered.

Joel watched, almost completely out of his mind. He never wanted to look at anything else ever again, wanted this view of you tattooed on the inside of his eyelids so he could see it anytime he wanted. Your eyes were starting to water, your skin glistening with sweat, as your hips shuddered under your own touch and under Frankie’s.

Joel was so close he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He knew he had only seconds left, and by the looks of it, so did you.

‘Oh fuck baby, look what you did to us,’ he said, and you let your eyes drift from Joel’s to Frankie’s face as he grit his teeth, his eyes staring down at you, just barely managing to hold onto the phone as you sucked him.

‘So good,’ Frankie said to you, ‘can’t…gonna…’

You groaned, taking him out of your throat and reaching up to jerk the shaft while you sucked hard on the head. Still circling your clit with one hand you reached the other up to gently roll his balls in your palm. He cried out, the shock of the pleasure making him finally drop the phone. It landed, face up, just by his knees and angled up under your chin as Frankie shot his load into your mouth, gripping your tit in one hand and the other coming to rest on the crown of your head as he pumped his hips, his come shooting into your mouth as you rolled it over your tongue. Joel had an obscene view of it, watched as Frankie’s come spilled out of your mouth and onto the couch below you, nearly splattering over the lens. It was too much, finally too much, Joel shooting come into his hand and over his shirt as he fucked his palm, imagined it was your mouth, your cunt as you sucked Frankie’s come down, imagined he was inside you and also beside you, holding your head up as the younger man painted your throat.

He came as you did, gasping and whimpering for the other, your voice calling for him as he grunted out for you, and he recovered just enough to watch as you shuddered, your body shaking and rolling with the pleasure of it as you rested your face on Frankie’s heaving belly, sweat plastering your hair to your head, come dripping from your lips, as you rode out your high.

‘Fuck, baby…’ you whimpered, while you fought to catch your breath. Joel could see you collapsing, the pleasure wringing you out, leaving you shaky and spent. He swallowed, collecting himself enough to instruct the younger man.

‘Washcloths are under the bathroom sink. Make sure the water’s warm.’ He took a second to breathe, trying to clear his vision enough to be able to drive. ‘Wrap her up in a blanket, there’s one on the back of the couch.’ He watched as Frankie nodded, listening hard. ‘Hold her ‘til I get there,’ Joel said, his heart thrumming again, an ache building in his chest to be with you as he fumbled the keys into the ignition.

‘Hold my girl for me ‘til I’m there,’ he said, again.

[jolalibrary]

fifteen hundred and one

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: he's your best friend. nothing would ever change that. except maybe a goodnight kiss.

warnings: just fluff. best friends who flirt to something. kissing. flirting. she calls frankie nemo. an: this is my submission for @janaispunk’s milestone celebration based on this moodboard and the prompt "goodnight kiss"! hugest and biggest congrats to you jana, my babe. you deserve all of this and more!

Laughing, hard. It’s all instinctive as one palm stretches out across his stomach, and the other arm hooks around you, tugging you close.

He tenses when your fingers brush over his threadbare tee, your head turning into him as you mirror him, giggling. Burying deep into the fabric, it seeps into his skin.

And all Frankie thinks is—

It’s easy with you.

Has been for years. Since you’d stumbled in as the friend of one of his friends girl-not-girl, sticking around longer than they did.

You'd glued to him, happily. Never minding, or caring. Somehow surprised at how simple it was going from ‘do you want a drink’ to resting your head on his shoulder, while the two of you absently listened to whatever bullshit Benny was saying.

Now, he looks forward to seeing you.

To late-night burger runs and early-morning coffee meets, quiz nights with the others and just the two of you movie trips.

At some point, between his tongue doubling in his head at the sight of you that night to now, he’s been resisting kissing you. Sometimes easy, sometimes it’s harder.

Tonight it’s the latter.

A hand clenched around his heart, squeezing. Beneath the moon's gentle gaze, the world slows, each laugh and comment infused with the spell of the silvery glow. It's intimate, almost sacred.

And it forces him to remind himself of the usual array of things that stop him from kissing the wit-induced smile right from your lips. The list he runs through to ensure he doesn't ruin you, in the same way, he'd almost destroyed his license, his job. Stopping himself from tasting the gloss you’ve smeared there, the one which makes street lamps reflect as the two of you walk back to his truck.

“—so even if I scratched your favourite vinyl, you’d still be friends with me?”

Opening the passenger side door, he smiles, gleams, fucking beams. “Yeah!”

He hears you mutter bullshit when he shuts it, fighting a laugh as he comes around the back before sliding in.

It’s not a far drive to yours. One he’s memorised, etched into him. Not just from tonight’s location, but all over town. From his to work, and your favourite spot to his. Able to drive, mainly on auto-pilot, not needing to concentrate too much, able to answer your wild, and ridiculous, array of “even if” questions. Each ranged from ‘if I burnt all your grass’ to, ‘hypothetically if you had a dog and I kicked it’. Each is smudged with the sound of the radio you've tuned, a station he won't admit he listens to when you're not even with him.

You don’t stop your questioning when he pulls onto your drive, parking side by side next to your car. The one he helped you haggle for three months ago now—if he thinks hard, he can still hear the sound of your squeal in gratitude in the furthest part of his ear.

“—what if I stole your last coffee filter?”

“I’m guessing I’m desperate for it too?”

“Yes,” you say, defiant but playfully. “Of course.”

“You’re telling me that if I stole your last coffee filter, you’d still be my friend?”

Killing the engine, he sighs. Shrugging. “Yeah.”

Unbuckling your belt, you throw a glare. “I don’t believe you. You’re more coffee than blood.”

Shaking his head, he rests against the headrest, the corner of his lips growing into his cheek. “Not a thing you could do that would make me ever want to not be your friend.”

Rolling your eyes, you hover your hand over the doorhandle. A part of him wants to ask you to wait, to not go just yet. A routine he thinks through at least three times a month when he sees you. Each time ending in the same cowardly way.

“Goodnight, Frank,” you say, in that same tone—one hard to read, forged in sadness but dressed up in joy—as you press your lips to his cheek.

He resists touching it like he always does. Mumbling the same scripted, “Night” he always does.

Not jolting when the door meets the frame, eyes pinned on you as you walk down your path—waiting for you to step on your porch, turn back and wave, fidget for your keys before unlocking the door and giving him another wave. Another pattern, another repetition.

Except tonight you stop.

You don’t even make it halfway down your path.

Blood pounds in his ears, something knotting inside of him. An urge, a fire lighting in his stomach. One he listens to. His hand shoves the door open, as the other undoes his belt, forcing himself to exit.

Frankie spots the glance in surprise at finding him coming around the front to join you. As though the idea he would is a shock, a surprise as he calls your name.

It’s slow, the way you spin on your heels. You pause, eyes narrowing, before widening, fighting a smile. A thing he can tell, can read. Even if you try to hide it in the night, shield it from the almost full moon and the stars which twinkle above.

“You think you’d be able to be my friend if I kissed you, Nemo?”

Leaning against the brick of your house, watching your eyes flick from his shoes back to his face.

“Finally ran out of cat names?”

“I’m branching out. I could go back to calling you Salem.”

Smirking, rolling his lips. “Still not a fish.”

Sighing, shifting your weight. “Didn’t answer my question.”

Wiping his hand with his face, hurrying his brain to think of something, anything, because he’s not sure if this is a joke. If you’re pushing him.

But the longer the silence thickens, the more time you stare at him, eyes growing wider and wider, he thinks that it might not be his heart that is the only one pounding. The only one beating in his ears, the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Fran—”

“No,” he stammers, clearing his throat. “I–I’d be too busy.”

Lips sliding into your cheek, nervousness fading, fingers scratching the tip of your nose as he swears a shooting star soars in your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Kissing you fifteen hundred times.”

“Just fifteen hundred?”

Shrugging, chewing his tongue, he exhales—loud, nostrils flaring. “To start.”

Taking a step closer, a timid one. Enough to make a point, but not enough to close the gap entirely. Your knuckles brush his stomach, a blend between a stroke and a nudge.

“You’ve thought about this.”

A small part—one wrapped in vines of doubt, encased in pretending—warns him to clamp his mouth shut. To swallow the syllables and forms letters that make the sentence buzz in his mouth, along his teeth, and jaw.

Flicking his eyes from the floor to your face. “All the time, baby.”

He hears it, but he enjoys watching it more, the way you gasp. Low, airy, trying to bury it.

“Give me a goodnight kiss, Morales.”

He doesn’t think twice.

Brushing his lips against yours, soft, cautious, and tender, before it deepens. It makes his heart throb, double; it almost somersaults in his chest as your palm presses to his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as one of his hands finds a home on your waist.

Then you’re smiling, almost laughing, right up against his mouth as he tastes the sugar on your lips. He feels the joy brushing against his mouth as your fingers knot into his hair.

And it unlocks him, allows you to consume him, to find himself free falling knowing he'll never land, fall or be hurt—just floating, as you tug him flush to you, a feeling so heavenly he almost wishes to pinch himself—

“Of course, you’re a good kisser,” you whisper, ghosting the words over his lips.

“Been thinking about it, have you?”

Snorting, nose nudging his, you press your mouth back to his, more searing, open-mouthed. “When I drive. At work. In the morning. At night.”

Each is punctuated with a kiss. The latter flows around his head, swirling in different shades and fonts as he groans, fingers sliding around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Making it a little rougher, more committed, feeling you cling to him, tugging him closer as he manoeuvres the two of you—flushing your back to the brick, his chest to yours.

A moan escapes you, tickling his lower lip as your thumb brushes along the back of his neck. Mouths parting, for a moment breathing the other, simply staring, gazing, ogling.

“Fourteen hundred and ninety-nine to go?”

Shaking his head, nose brushing yours, thumb stroking against your cheek. “This is a goodnight kiss—a necessity to begin the counter.”

“Oh,” you whisper, elongating it, adding a smirk to the end. “So, we have another fifteen hundred and then, we stop?”

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your perfume weaving into his soul. The sound of a car streets away travelling in the quiet of the night.

“Depends.” Tilting your head, waiting, confusion there. “You might unlock the next stage.”

Grinning against him, able to feel it as he runs his knuckles along your jaw.

“Or my lips fall off?”

Laughing, just like he did earlier. He smiles. “Or your lips fall off.”

[pedge-page]

Cravings

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!reader

Summary: Pussy eating king frankie, who gets his aforementioned nickname when you tried to come up with ways to prevent him from relapsing back to coke.

Warnings: soooo much oral —pussy eating, cum eating, grinding, dry humping, cumming in pants, kissing, Frankie's mouth is everywhere, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex, little dub con since Frankie doesn't ask if he can cum inside, overstimulation, free use esc situations

Notes: This is NOT the Frankie free-use series I mentioned before; I'm a bit delayed with writing it, so here's something else i had started as a drabble but then... did not stay a drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoy this fic!

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Rather than drowning himself in coke, Santi slyly suggest he drowns himself in pussy instead. The guys around the table laughed, but you kind of agreed and told him you'd help set him up on hookups. Frankie didn't want to go through the trouble of having to find a potentially different girl each night. Plus, his cravings were sporadic. He would need his fix in that moment whenever it came.

He remembered back when you had drunkenly admitted guys could hardly satisfy you because you had a high drive, usually cumming on your fingers at least 6 times a day before bed, often times more on lonely weekends. He was left speechless at the time, but now he couldn't get Santi's proposition mixed with that knowledge of you out of his head.

You tried to cook him meals instead or buy him hoards of candy, but the idea was stuck in his mind. You knew you'd be a convenient alternative, given you only lived less than 10 minutes away and was always around when he needed help. But you were afraid of crossing that line with one of your all time best friends.

Eventually, being around him so much—"on call" as the boys put it—left you susceptible to his sweet touches, ghosting lips against your ears, sporadic twitches and jittery hands, antsy fingers dancing along your hips. You considered the option heavily before finally caving: you were doing this to HELP him, as his friend. Just a little relief every so often when he absolutely needed it.

You came 9 times on his tongue the first time. It wasn't even that he was trying to make you cum, but the eagerness in the way he moved so fast, growling and moaning at the taste, his lips attached and never left your heat. His big nose just perfectly bumping your clit each time he pointed his tongue dove deep into your craving hole, curling up and hitting that soft spot inside you left you shaking and crying out his name, back arched and fingers clawing at his shoulders.

He was sated for almost 6 days (and you needed the ample recovery time because not even your fingers could make you cum so hard) before the craving hit again. Incessant knuckles pounded your doorstep. You had barely unlocked the door before he was shoving himself in and devouring your mouth with his. "I need another hit, carniño."

He didn't wait for a response, knocking you on your ass on the sofa and stripping your sweats and panties off before throwing one leg over his shoulder. Flattening his tongue, he licks a long strip along from your hole to your clit, obscenely guttural moans from the back of his throat filled your ears. He looked wild-eyed and crazy, as if starved for weeks and was finally given the sugar rush of the century.

You inevitably move in with him, claiming his spare bedroom, worried about how bad he gets when he goes anything longer than a few hours without you.

He makes you ride his face until you're suffocating him, and he still can't get enough. Your juices flood his mouth and nose and his eyes roll back as he loses air. You try to get off and apologies, but he's caged your thighs with his muscular arms, holding your pussy flat against his face as he devoured you more, ignoring your squirming pleas. He hums against your nub, the vibrations sending you into your own addictive high. You cum again, and again, and again, and soon you're tugging his hair, crying his name with fat tears down your cheek, leaning back and scratching at his chest to let off, but its useless. He's so lost in your cunt that you become light headed, barely holding on to the headboard as your lower body continues to spasm.

He only pulls off for a minute, squeezing his nostrils to force out your juices. He's so dazed, pupils blown wide, beard and mustache drenched in your slick, so pussy-drunk and in love that he wants to do it again. "Sweetest fucking cunt, I swear. Just wanna curl up and live inside here, querida."

You offer to suck him off but he gestures embarrassingly down, where you turn to see a dark splotch on the belt-line of his pants where the tip of his spent cock peaks out, dribbling little white drops onto his lower belly, having cum untouched just from eating you out.

It gets to the point where you lock yourself in the bathroom when you take a shower just to have 10 minutes of peace. Your pussy is so puffy, clit so swollen from his constant assault day and night that you have to calm down and remind yourself what good its doing for him. He hasn't touched the white powder in weeks.

He's wondered where you've gone when he sees the bathroom light illuminate under the door. He knocks a few times, then raps harsher with his fists, calling out your name. You tell him you just need a minute. The makeshift locks on the bathroom door of Frankie's apartment isn't designed to keep an ex militant out, and he just pushes it forward with enough force that it gives way and he let's himself in. You go to cover yourself when he pulls the shower curtains away, but the same needy expression on his face as he narrows in to the slit between your legs has you aching once again. It's Pavlovian, the way he stares, practically drooling, hands twitching by his side, sending signals to your cunt to start dripping for his appetite. He spins you around so your cheek is smothered against tile, ass out towards him, not caring about the water drenching his baseball cap, grey shirt and pants as he kneels on the shower floor and puts his face between your legs. He moans when his lips start sucking on your nub, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole. He keeps you in your spread position with his arms holding your waist, making their way to spread your ass for him to dive further in, knees between your heels. You reach one arm back, knocking his cap off as you card your fingers through his damp hair, gripping it when you cum and grind yourself back on his scruffy face.

He's otherwise so gentle, so soft spoken, but when he gets between your legs, something primal takes over and you can hardly recognize him.

Sometime in the evening while you were watching a movie, you see his knee bouncing next to you. You has snapped at him earlier and refused his hunger when he peppered kisses all over your neck, down your back, then tried to yank your pants down while you were cooking dinner for the two of you, nearly burning your arm on the stove from such force.

You hated that you had outright refused him for the first time, but the truthfully the swollenness between your legs needed rest before he wrecked you again. He's biting his lip so hard, stealing glances at you before rubbing his hair and shifting his cap back on.

You instead take your top off, having gotten comfortable enough to go without a bra when it was just the two of you. Frankie is a bit shocked, only used to seeing you strip your pants first before anything else.

You crawl over to him before sitting in his lap, thighs spread over his. He swallows the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off of your tits right in front of him. His legs are still bouncing in agitation, the movement making your breasts jiggle right in front of him. He groans, licking his lips, breathing heavily.

"She needs a break, Fish," you said quietly, your soft and small hands seeking his big and callous ones, pulling them up over your waist before letting them settle on your cups.

He doesn't hesitate or ask further, head leaning forward and lips immediately latching on to your nipple. He moans, eyes closed as he sucks around the areola, tongue swirling your pebble as he kneads them in his hands.

You're trying so hard not to grind down on his cock, instead sitting upright on your knees so you're not fully resting your damp panty-covered crotch against the tent in his pants. The position is more head level with your tits, but he doesn't like that. He grips your hips to bring you flush against him, gasping out when you instinctually start rocking your hips steadily against his clothed length.

He noticed how heavily your chest is flexing, glaring up at you to see your brows furrowed, face tilted towards the ceiling trying not to cum on him. He cups his hands against your cheeks and brings you in for a sweet kiss, his lips slotting perfectly against yours as his hands return to palming your breasts. He presses his forehead against yours so your eyes meet, goosebumps wracking your whole body at the lust behind his eyes, and something more you couldn't place. "So good to me, querida. Perfect lips"—he gently pecks your lips—"perfect tits"—then a generous kiss to each of your breasts—"my perfect girl." You could smell the scent of your pussy on his lips, as if they'd be stained there now. Kissing your lips, your throat, collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, and erect nipples, and all the way back up again, was enough to keep his mouth busy and his craving subsided. And it worked almost as well, the two of you cumming sticky and wet against one another in your underwear with heavy sighs and sated eyes; you had calmed him down enough to get him to remove his clothes and put on a fresh pair of boxers before tucking him to his own bed with your favorite blanket.

As you tip toed into the bathroom to prep for a bath, you stared at your naked reflection: how swollen, and red your breasts were, covered in raised bite marks the shape of Frankie's jaws. Among your new scars are the faded scratches and bruises of Frankie's fingertips on your waist, stomach and lower back from how incessantly he devours you while his face is buried in your sopping pussy, like he had to sink his claws into you so you wouldn't slip away as he feasted. You look like you were attacked by a passionate lion.

His sweet nothings every time he stared into your eyes was what really turned you on. You tell yourself that it was just the withdrawal symptoms talking. That he was basically just high on a new drug.

-

To you, it must have looked like Frankie's craving were only getting worse with how increasingly frequent his lips found themselves attached to your body. In truth, his desire for coke steadily grew less, and it wasn't the replacement of the powder that he was seeking from you but rather the insaitability of finally having you that grew stronger.

The rest of boys noticed the effects you're having on Frankie too. They see it when he meets them for a drink every other Saturday, the way he anxiously taps his foot under the table, glancing around like he's unsure what to do, where to go, because he can't sit still. It's the signs of his cravings kicking back in, and they're all worried at first. But it's not until you up show later and slide into the booth next to him that they notice: Frankie casually drapes his arm around your shoulders like he always did—that part was normal. But what was new is how they could visibly see Frankie's heart rate slow, the way he slumped against the bench and completely calmed down from just your presence.

They also couldn't help but notice the way his eyes raked you with a mix of lust, love, and obsession, his dark gaze never once leaving the sight of you the entire night. All the while you laughed and chatted with them about your week, oblivious to the change in demeanor of your friend from just a few months ago.

You assured the boys that you two weren't fucking—and it was true, you hadn't slept with him once. albeit a few blow jobs, it was exclusively just Frankie eating you out or kissing. You were very hopeful that his cravings were going to go away soon since its the longest he's been off coke. You were even talking to your old landlord to see if your old apartment a few blocks away still had openings since you'd be moving out of Frankie's place soon. Santi couldn't help but see Frankie's dejection, his arm sliding away from you as he excused himself to get more beer.

By the end of the night, Frankie was drunk out of his mind. Will suggested he slow down so he wouldn't pass out before he could walk home. It sounded like a good plan, until Francisco glanced over to the bar and saw you sitting there and smiling at a guy who was flirting with you. Fish took a giant gulp of his beer, downing the entire jug before slamming it on the table and striding out of the booth towards you. He overheard the guy asking if you had a ride home tonight.

"She comes home with me. Every. Night," he slurred, his sweaty palm skimming possessively over your jean-clad thigh and snaking between your legs, face coming so close to you that your noses slide against each other. Frankie's eyes bore into yours with so much desire, it bordered on range. You knew those were his craving eyes. The pungent smell of alcohol on his breath made you flinch as he tried to pull you in for a kiss. You quickly tell the confused guy that he's your roommate and you need to get him home immediately. You could barely finish excusing yourself from the stranger before Frankie was dragging you out of the bar. You managed to wave to the others, making a drinking gesture and pointing to Frankie before being yanked into the street.

He was stumbling all over the place, breath uneven as you hoisted him up to lean against you, eventually making it through his apartment entrance and turning the key to unlock his unit.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Frankie slammed the door close behind him and pinned you up against it, his hands roaming your body as his mouth desperately sought yours. "Craving," he mumbled against your open lips. "Need"—tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it before releasing with a pop— "need you," he panted.

"I know, I know—Jesus Fish. I'm—gonna help—gonna take care of you—" you breathed, ashamed of how quickly you could feel your panties dampen. It never bothered him though, and only encouraged his sweet tooth more. You weren't nearly as drunk as him, but your few margaritas made you extremely susceptible, even welcoming, to his touch.

You hummed into his shoulder when his hard bulge rubbed purposefully against your covered core. He bit your earlobe as he fisted your low-neck shirt before pulling it down roughly, the fabric tearing away. You gasped, ready to scold him but he pressed his mouth on you again, teeth clashing, his hands slotting down your body to pinch, grope, scratch at any bit of skin he could get.

"So—so good t'me. Always taking—such good care of me, cariño."

His fingers dip into your ass and hoist you up so he's carrying you, your arms and legs wrapped securely around him as he boldered through his apartment, kicking his door open before tossing you on the bed, watching you bounce. You never break eye contact as you unbutton your jeans at the same time Frankie pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside to unfasten his belt and zipper.

Clambering over you to reseal your lips, you breath in his scent, hands exploring his tone arms, down his chest and muscle middle all the way to the little pooch of tummy hanging. His hands gripped your jeans and pulled them along with you down the length of the bed, bringing you to the edge, his grip pushing up on the back of your thighs so your knees are digging against your rib cage, pulsing pussy exposed at his mercy. "I fuckin' love this pussy, querida," he growled before burying his face between you folds for the thounsandth time. "So fuckin' wet for me," he mumbled against your thigh, nipping at the skin.

He ate you out with precision, eyes hungry watching you, determined to make you fall apart quickly. He wasn't doing it for his own taste, but the sheer satisfaction of watching you writhe for him, knowing your body inside out as the only one who could get you like this. He's languidly thrusting two fingers in and out. You didn't even need to be stretched: he'd practically been prepping you for months now. You're crying out into the air as you cum, hips bucking against his nose with your heels digging into his shoulder blades. Frankie pulls away, kissing your stomach and up your tits before making you taste yourself on his lips.

The feeling of his cock nudging your entrance make your once dazed eyes go wide and alert. He pauses, suddenly worried. He can't read your expression, time dragging out too long and it scares the fuck out of him that he's taking it too far, that you didn't agree to this.

He had wanted to tell you everything right then: how he dreams of you riding him, or when he fists his cock in the shower when you're at work to the thought of what your tight walls would feel like wrapped around him when first violates you, how he automatically gets aroused now when he just sees you or smells your laundry, or admitting how many times he's actually cum in his pants without you noticing when he is buried between your legs, dying to have you cum around his cock instead of his tongue.

It's not until you sense his hesitation that you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close, sharing the same breath of air, nodding as your calves hook over his ass and squeeze his hips, the tip of his flush cock slipping in to your wet heat.

You both sigh heavily into each other's mouth when he takes charge again and thrusts fully inside you. He scrunches his eyes closed, forehead dipping down to your breast bone to revel in the overwhelming feeling of the tight space inside you.

You warmly caress his hair to bring him back up to you, kissing him and whispering, lips trembling, "Don't—don't think about it. Just... just use me."

His heart sank: You probably just thought this was another hit for him.

He didn't want to think about the fact that you were everything he'd needed in that moment, the image of perfection beneath him beautifully laid out for his eyes, his touch, but not for his soul. He gritted his teeth, pulling out then slamming back in, jolting your whole body up the mattress. It was fast, rough, and not at all how he wanted your first time to be with him, but he couldn't control his urges. He was gasping loudly as he fucked you, your cunt gushing around his member, the obscene sound of slick and skin slapping skin echoing in his otherwise empty apartment.

He brought his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit, sending you into a spasm of praises and expletives, but the most satisfying sound was his name repeated over and over again.

He barely manages to pull out before jerking his cock only twice and creaming all over your folds and clit. Groaning in post orgasmic bliss, he watches you heaving and shaking, filthy pussy covered in his seed. Half of his mind is only working now as he slides back down to lap you clean with his mouth, his own saltiness filling his throat, fingers scissoring inside to get your juices flowing, obsessed with the sight in front of him: your back arched off the bed, heels digging into his lower back as his hands pinning your hips down flat so he can work his mouth over you. And then you're cumming again, so angelic on his tongue, your sweet moans going right to his dick, hardening once again as he ruts into the mattress. He nips your clit and sucks, reluctant to pull away as he lines up and splits you open. You scream out, and if it weren't for the way your barely-recovered battered walls kept sucking him back in, he'd be worried you're in pain. His hands hook under your lower back, lifting you off the bed as he plows into your squelching cunt over and over again.

Youre both covered in a thin layer of sweat, the pillows and comforter of his bed strewn haphazardly around the floor as he dominates you. The headboard slammed recklessly agains the wall, and neither of you cared about your neighbors trying to sleep at 1 in the morning. He ignores the oversensitivity of his cock and your clit, forcing you both into an unexpected climb of another orgasm like it was a primal need.

It was happening without warning; he should be asking for permission, but he knew you took the pill, and he's been dying to release inside you from the moment you first let him put his lips on you. You're cumming on his cock again, hips bucking and grinding against him without your clit being touched, and he was done for.

With a harsh cry, he climaxes again, his length flooding your womb with ribbons of white. His arm shoots in front of him, flat on the bed next to your ear to hold himself up so he didn't crash down on you as his hips jerked, pushing his seed deeper in to you.

He rested most of his weight on top of you, labored breaths combined into one. He kisses the top of your nose, whispering "thank you," unsticking your sweaty bodies as he rolls you two over to have you lying on top, your head next to his. He pats your hair over your ear, pebbling your forehead and eyelids in kisses. His cock twitched in your spent heat, cum leaking out and dripping down to his balls and on the bed.

"Glad I—could...help..." you mumbled, eyes already closed as you drifted into sleep.

His softening dick slipped from your pussy, warm hands wiping you with his shirt before settling you gently on a pillow. He watched the gentle rise and fall of your breaths, naked and fast alseep on his bed. He pulled his sheets higher to your shoulder, his heart beating faster at the way you snuggled further into his pillow.

Frankie stared at the ceiling for hours, hand on his forehead in anguish, wondering how the fuck he was supposed to tell you it wasn't cocaine he was craving last night.

- - - -

Part 2: Crash

Series masterlist

[psychedelic-ink]

He comes, his grip on your thigh almost painful, his stiff cock heavy in his other hand as it spurts hot ropes of cum across your hip and the sound that he makes at the sight of the milky liquid gathering in the damp curls of your cunt pushes you closer to the edge.

I'm speechless, the visual of this is just too much for my poor heart 🥵🥵🥵

That fucking gif, man

this one?

box set universe — read more here! ❤️

frankie morales x f!reader

rating: explicit

—

“Francisco”, you plead, your voice strained as the the spreading heat in your core winds tighter and tighter and you look up at him, clenching down at the obscene sight in front of you.

He’s kneeled between your legs right now as he fucks his fist, your thighs draped over his more sturdy ones and you can feel the tension in them as he strokes himself faster; the slick, rapid sound of it filling the dim room.

Starting when you cupped the heft of him over his jeans during the movie and ending with him spreading you out on the living room floor, you are glad for the flickering light of the TV as it flashes across his bare skin right now.

Every inch of that body you love on display for you, shadows slide across it as he frantically strokes his thick cock and you can see the taut muscles in his arms and torso shift under his skin, can see the tension held tight in them as he gets closer.

Your pussy is a glistening stretch around your fingers, your other hand a swift, wet glide over your clit and your fingers are a poor substitute for his and you tell him so, the whine in your voice a higher pitch over his deeper groan.

“Fuck, baby”, he pants, his other hand dropping to your thigh with a squeeze and his grip gets tighter, tighter on the soft flesh when he pushes you open wider.

He knows exactly what you taste like and he wants to lick the slick that’s pooled around your fingers right now, wants it to gush into his mouth like it does when you come on his face but he can’t wait for that — he needs to come now.

His fist pumps his cock, the thick head of it disappearing with each fast stroke and you can tell he is going to come by the way his lips are parted slack right now as the the furrow in his brow deepens.

“Do it”, you urge him, the pads of your fingers rubbing a tight circle over your clit, your other fingers pushing inside deeper, deeper. “Come on my pussy, baby. I want to see it. I want —“

He comes, his grip on your thigh almost painful, his stiff cock heavy in his other hand as it spurts hot ropes of cum across your hip and the sound that he makes at the sight of the milky liquid gathering in the damp curls of your cunt pushes you closer to the edge.

“I’m so close”, you chant breathlessly, your eyes closing as your back arches off the floor, your hips rolling against your hands, “I’m so close, I just — oh god.”

Frankie’s pushed your hand out of the way and filled your pussy with three of his slippery fingers and it’s just the deep stretch you need to come; saliva pooling in his mouth as he feels the hot, slick rush of it on his hand.

He needs to taste it, pulling his fingers from you before slipping them into his own mouth in a greedy suck and you are still trying to catch your breath when he nudges your thighs open wider with his shoulders, seeking your cunt out with his mouth.

“I wanna see you do that again”, he murmurs against the crease of your thigh, “but this time I wanna taste it.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Tide

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything... except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at. Warnings: Smut thoughts, Frankie's POV and internal monologue, premature ejaculation, so much cum talk, addiction recovery, laundry detergent, this is so ridiculous but I also tried to make it super sweet. Words: 1,200

A/N: I'd probably classify this as a crack fic... but with heart. This is SOOOOO indulgent and ridiculous. I don't know what @luxurychristmaspudding unlocked in me but this is what's released. I know this is my *4th* story in a week, but I couldn't help myself. Also, shout out to the JM Discord and all of the tenants who join in the luxuriousness of this level of depravity.

Masterlist

🚁👖🤍Frankie🤍👖🚁

It keeps happening to Frankie over and over and over again. Recovery has been a challenge, abstaining from all of his previous vices means he’s no longer numbing his mind… and body. 

Nobody should ever cum during a prescription commercial and yet… he does. The swimsuit hugged the woman’s curves a little too close, plus she had the same color hair as you. His mind couldn’t help floating to thinking about you in a swimsuit.

Aye dios mio, get a hold of yourself man.

He’s too embarrassed to bring it up to his doctor. The notion of ever mentioning it to the Delta Force boys terrifies him, although he knows deep down they’d lend a sympathetic ear. They’ve killed, fought wars, and climbed out of the lowest points of their lives together… but the thought of letting his secret out? Awful. He shudders at the thought of telling his fellow Narcotics Anonymous attendees: “Hi, my name is Frankie, I’m an addict and I can’t stop cumming in my pants.”

He tries to think of the worst things, mental images that should scar even the scariest of humans, thoughts about death, rotting produce, weird looking insects, and yet, it still happens.

___

“Hi, how’d you find everything today?”

He blinks towards your tag though he’s already memorized your name, it repeats through his mind whenever he climaxes… he wonders to himself how your sweet voice would sound repeating his name. 

Uh oh, quick, think of a bee sting, everyone’s going to die, burnt pizza. 

He shakes his head, the thoughts of you wrapped around him flying out of his head with each subtle knock. 

“Sir, are you okay?”

Fuuuuuuck, you really had to call me sir, didn’t you?

“Y-yeah, sorry, long day. My name’s Frankie by the way.”

Focus, don’t look at how her hand wraps around the shampoo bottle, soldier. 

“Hi Frankie, nice to finally have a name to the face.”

Of course you say his name in the sweetest way. He presses his fingers into the flesh of his palm as hard as he can withstand, he prays you don’t see the way his nostrils flare.

Be strong.

He’s been captivated ever since he first saw you working in the mom and pop market across the street from his apartment. You’re always friendly and smiling, he swears he feels your eyes on him every time he leaves yet he’s too scared to look back and confirm for himself. He wishes he knew how to small talk and somehow step over the threshold of this case of shyness he has with you. 

Why bother? I’ll just end up disappointing you, never leaving you fulfilled. 

He’s so ashamed. 

“That’s a big bottle of detergent, you must do a lot of laundry. You have kids?” 

“I do… a four year old, but she lives with her mom,” he answers, lifting the giant jug into his cart, his cock twitches when he feels your eyes on his biceps. 

Stay cool, you can do this, you’ve literally overcome worse… and cummed over less.

He wonders if you notice just how much laundry soap he buys… he’s confident that you have no clue you're the only reason why his washing machine is constantly working overtime. 

“Oh, I love that age,” you mindlessly muse scanning a cereal box. “Is she as cute as her dad?”

His spine turns to jelly… he feels the phantom getting closer. 

Trash compactors, mom and dad’s divorce, elephant seals.

“Everyone says she has my eyes.”

“Then she must be,” you wink.

Not a wink, not a wink, not a goddamn wiiiiink. 

He quickly pulls his head down, sticking his card in the chip reader, resisting the urge to think of his now aching cock pushing into you. 

STOP. STOP. STOP THINKING FRANKIE.

Focusing on the pin pad breaks his spiral. Relief spreads through his tense body knowing this run in will be over soon, he can go home in peace, his pants surviving this moment.

Your fingers brush against his hand when you hand him the receipt, his favorite part of buying groceries. He’ll stand in your checkout lane no matter the size of the line for the split second of skin to skin contact. It’s all he can afford to let himself have, any more would surely stain his jeans. 

___

“Hey Frankie!” 

He turns at your voice, his breath hitching when you walk over to him while removing your name tag.

“Want to go next door and grab a drink?”

“I’d love to… but I, uh,” he lifts his hat nervously tussling his hair, “I’m in recovery.” 

“Oh,” your voice and face falter, “I’m sorry, um–”

Don’t let this moment pass, you can do it.

“I know a really good ice cream place, a few blocks down, I can meet you there?” 

Ice cream means licking. Frankie, you're an idiot.

“Oh, um, that sounds amazing but I don’t drive.”

“I can take you… if you’d like.” 

“Yeah?” your smile grows wider. “That sounds amazing.”

“I just need to drop these off, and then I’ll meet you outside in twenty?”

“Awesome!” You squeeze his hand wrapped around the cart handle. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Your touch scorches his skin, he blinks watching your ass sway while walking through the doors to the backroom. 

1-2-3, a gush of hot liquid releases against his jeans, his knuckles turn white as they clutch the cart handle.

Jesus Christ.

Frankie picks up his bags, holding them close to his crotch and leaves the grocery store. He better hurry. Thank god he just bought more detergent. 

___

In hindsight, he’s thankful for his little grocery store indiscretion. He’s carefree and relaxed as he falls even harder for you over chocolate sundaes. You ask for extra rainbow sprinkles and laugh at all of his jokes. 

This must be what it’s like to live normally.

___

“That’s me,” you point to a small bungalow unbuckling your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ice cream Frankie."

“This was really fun,” he turns towards you, shocked at how close you’re leaning towards him. 

Kiss her. No, wait, don’t kiss her. Yeah, definitely don’t kiss her. 

“It was,” you lick your lips and lean even closer. 

He can smell you now, you smell divine. Like ice cream and floral perfume. 

You place a soft kiss against his lips and pull away.

Frankie’s body tenses, a pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, he spurts against the cotton of his briefs. Doe eyes rounded with embarrassment stare at you.

“Sorry,” whispers out of his downturned lips. 

“Oh,” your face fails at hiding a smile, “Frankie, it’s okay. Really.”

His head knocks against the headrest, face frozen in a grimace, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Frankie,” your hand clasps his chin forcing him to look at you. “Honestly, it’s okay. It’s actually… kinda hot.”

Right then and there he knows he’ll never shop at another grocery store again. 

[javierpena-inatacvest]

All The Things We Never Said- Masterlist

Summary: You and Frankie Morales have been best friends since the 6th grade. You swore to each other that there would never come a day where life would be better without the other one in it. But as you grow up, you've learned the hard way that sometimes, just friendship isn't enough.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n no, reader has a name/nickname she's called by)

Warnings: *Each chapter will have their own individual warnings* SMUT(18+), angst, yearning (so much yearning), sick parent (reader's dad has ongoing cancer), childhood best friends to lovers to enemies to distant friends and back again

The story is written from both reader and Frankie's POV. The story jumps between present day and flashbacks, but is labeled in the chapter who's POV and what timeframe it takes place!

Main Story:

Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Chapter 2- Awakening*

Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Chapter 4- The Chase

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Chapter 6- Undeniable

Chapter 7- For the First Time*

Chapter 8- Something to Believe In (Coming 12/20!)

Asks:

How old are Frankie and MacKenzie?

Extras:

Spotify Playlist

[endlessthxxghts]

We Have Time

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

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

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

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

masterlist | notif blog

5:43am. 

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

He’s got time. Right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s in literal paradise like this. 

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

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

Right? 

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

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

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

7:54am. 

Shit.

9:56am. 

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

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

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

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

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

Frankie tilts his head, “Mobile what?” 

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

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

“Just say no, Frankie.”

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

“I said I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

“Gross,” you grumble. 

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

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

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

“That’s terrific, Frankie.”

“Does it have games on it?”

“No. It’s to order food. Obviously.”

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

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

“That’s okay. You can have mine.”

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

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

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

“Frankie?”

“Yes, hon.”

“Can we trade?”

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

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

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

[scrambledslut]

makes me so eepy