#gay frankie morales

[romanarose]

Lil Bit O'Cream

Santiago Garcia x Fat!Francisco Morales

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist (full of plenty of gay shit)

For week 4 of my Oscar Pedro Pride Event Week 4, Food, Fashion Fun if the theme!

AND

To celbrate my dear friend @beefrobeefcal !!! Happy one year of your blog my pal!!!! I love you so much, thank you for all you do to spreadyt he fat p-boys agenda!

Summery: Frankie doesn't think he deserve extra whipped cream, Santi proves him wrong.

Warnings: Food play, making out, illusions to sex. Body insecurity, Remains 18+ even if we don't get down and dirty!

Hosier referece in there for you sluts.

Devider by @nekokabuuuri

Dinner went well.

It was dessert of straweberries and cream that got Frankie in trouble.

Frankie had noticed that since dating Santiago, he had gained a little weight... And by a litttle, it was a lot. There was so much wasted time, so many years he and Santi missed out of together, they spent the time they had just... Being, having fun. They ate a lot of food... Frankei always knew Santi could cook but damn.

What was frustrating was how Frankie seemed to gain and gain and gain and no matter the chilles rellenos and barracho Santiago ate, he remained the same. Little bit of softness, but overall fit. Frankie was never that fit. In the air force, he always struggled to keeo up with fitness regiments and as soon as he got out he stopped trying too hard. He had to keep a certain level of fitness for a while... but that wained as Santiago's calls for missions did.

Then Colombia happened, and Frankie never wanted to go on another godforsaken mission again, lest he lose Ben, Will or Santi, or leave his daughter without a dad.

Santiago went radio silent for months, no one heard a single word... And then one day, he showed up again at his doorstep, and suddenly lips were on Frankie's before they made it inside the door.

Now, where he was worried about his daughter not having a dad, she had two.

She was away with her mom for the week, leaving Santi and Frankie with some alone time. Alone time Frankie was not that eager to get into. It wasn't that he didn't want Santi. He did, he really fucking did. Sex with Santi was incredible, and it had been a few weeks due to the rush of life... but Frankie was now accutely aware of his weight gain after his last pair of jeans busting a button. He didn't want to take his shirt off to find Santi no longer wanted him.

Dinner was done at the table with a few candles with Our Lady of Guatelupe and Martin De Porres staring at them, housewarming gifts from Frankie's mother to show her support for the couple.

For dessert, Santi sat Frankie down at the couch, put on Breaking Bad, and soon joined him with strawberries and and can of whipped cream. Frankie panicked. He did not need whipped cream right now as his stomach folded over the wasteband of his sweats.

"Um, I'll just take the strawberries, no whipped cream." He requested as Santi's ass bounced as he sat down on their couch.

His partner turned to him, a brow raised. "What? No whipped cream? The strawberrie are just an excuse to eat the whipped cream in the first place."

He was onto him. Frankie resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair; Will had informed him once that this little habit was a tell when he was uncomfortable and/or lying. "Well, you know me. Whiskey neat, coffee black. It's too sweet for me."

Frowning now, Santi set down the bowl, still grasping the tin can of spray cream. "Frank, you slurped down an iced Caramel machiatto in record time today."

"It was sugar free!"

His eyes widened as he connected the dots, then his face softened. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Frankie sighed. "Fine." He slouched in the couch, stomach protruding out. "I just think if I'm gonna eat whipped cream, I should probably earn it."

"Earn it?"

"Yeah, you know, like going for a run or something."

Santi burst into laughter, "A run? Fish, you haven’t run since Lorea's men shot a gun at your ass."

Huffing, Frankie tries to get up as his face flushes, burning at the embaressment of his lover acknowleging his sedentary lifestyle, but Santi's hand catches him.

"Hey, hey now, I'm sorry. That was rude." His voice was sincier, pulling Frankie down to the couch again. Frankie still wouldn't look at him, staring instead at the strawberries on the table while the bad is breaking on the tv in front of him. "Talk to me, baby."

Face on fire, the older man just mumbles. "I got fat."

He expects Santi to deny it, to say no, you havn't you look just the same. That would make him feel worse, the idea that he was fat and sensitive enough he needed to be lied to. But Santi knew that, because Santi knew him. He shrugs.

"I love the way you look. It suits you. I always enjoyed the fact you had meat on you. I honestly feel don't even notice much, it just feels like this is how you were meant to be."

Now the warmth on his skin was a nicer form. "But... I mean, I get that people like dad bods or whatever, but this is beyond that. It's not a beer belly, I'm just fat."

Santi nods. "I know, and I still think you look great like this. But, what I think isn't really important, although I'm happy to boost your spirits and tell you I think you're hot." He punctuated his point with a pat to Frankie's tummy. "The important part, is how do you feel?"

He considers this for a while, thinking earnestly. He doesn't stare at himself in the mirror hating his body. He doesn't find it's hard to do tasks he enjoys, like running around with his little girl or... activities... with Santi. He can still fit comfortably in the pilots seat even if his uniform has gone up... a few times. He doesn't need a seatbelt extender but he doesn't think he'd mind one. He can happily do the things he loves and although he's not exactly admiring his form, he doesn't hate it.

"I feel like... Like I shouldn't like it. I'm fat, Im supossed to want to-"

Santi stopped him by squishing his cheeks. "I didn't ask how you should feel, amor. I asked how you actually feel."

When Santi let go (after squeezing his cheeks enought to make his lips puff out and planting a kiss) Frankie answered. "Neutral, I guess. I don't pay much attention to it but... I'm comfortable."

Santi begins to smile at that. "Bien. And do you want to lose weight? Because I'll help you, I'll diet with you-"

"No!" Frankie responded, all too quickly, eyes wide enough to make Santi laugh. "I... I like how you look. a lot. Especially your ass."

Grinning his shit eating grin, Santi climbed up to straddle Frankie's stomach and lap, whipped cream still in hand. "Good, because I like your ass too, Fish." His voice drops lower, sultry and suggestive. "So, are you gonna let me feed you whipped cream?"

Frankie felt much better, grabbing that ass of Santi's that he loves so much and matching the energy, "I'll feed you some cream"

"Fucking idioto" Santi grumbles before his lips crashed into Frankie's, devouring him in a kiss, licking into his mouth like there was already something to eat. He raised the whiped cream can, taking it to Frank's mouth and spraying it until the white overflowed his mouth, dribbling out the sides and down chin. When he went back to sloppy making out, the impact to his face caused whipped cream to go everywhere, their tongues finding each other in the cloud of white while Santiago ground his hips against the swelling length in his grey sweats. Santi felt Frankie's fat stomach roll against his, running his hands over every bit of flab he could get his hands on.

Santiago absolutly adored how his boyfriend looked, drinking in his body every time he stepped out of the shower, how big he was, how thick fucking everywhere. He loved how, when Frank topped him, he could feel his other half's stomach on his lower back and ass, how he could hear the slap of skin to skin other than from thigh to ass. He loved sucking him off and bobbing up to kiss the low-hanging tummy. He loved hugging him and the way his finger tips barely touched. He loved him so goddamn much.

As soon as Frank's shirt was off, whipped cream was on his chest. Santiago lapped all over him, swirling his tongue around his nipples while palming the erection. He'd never heard Frankie so... Loud. Frank maybe be neutral about his body, may be unaccfected and comfortable now that he was certain that Santiago was more than still attracted...

But as Franks moans grew louder, his cock twitching in Santi's right hand while the left cupped his pudgy face... His goal was to make Frankie love the body he was in.

HAPPY ONE YEAR B DAY BEEF!!! I LOVE YOU!!

Hope you enjoy my gay shit!!!!

Follow @romana-updates to keep up with my works, and follow or check out #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 here for othercool works! plenty of time to participate if you desire, lots of fun themes!!

Follow my dear @beefrobeefcal for more fat pedro content!!! Her dark frankie is *chefs kiss* (pun intended if you read the story)

Like fat/ chubby frankie? Like dark? come read Room's on Fire !!

Love you all!

[pedros-husband]

someone else flirts with you

pedro pascal characters x male reader

characters included: javier pena, joel miller, javi gutierrez, marcus moreno, ezra, din djarin, frankie morales, agent whiskey, silva, oberyn martell, dieter bravo,

Javier pena: this man is possessive, like to the point that he thinks any man/woman looking at you wants you. Because of this he is never too far away from you, he likes having an arm around your waist/torso, or holding your hand. but if he had to go away from you for a moment to go to the bathroom or something else, the moment he gets back his whole demeanor changes, his smile drops. he furrows his eyebrows and clenches his fists at his sides to stop himself from completely beating the person to a pulp. he takes a deep bretah and casually walks back up to you, kissing your neck or your lips, snaking his arm back around your waist. he'll say somehting oalong the lines of :

'hey baby, who's this?' if you give him an 'i'm uncomfortable' look he won't refrain from using violence on the person. if you know them or aren't uncomfortable he'll just be really touchy and try to whisk you away at the first moment. the second you get back home he's on you, pinning you to the wall and reminding you who your boyfriend really is.

Joel miller: (pre-breakout)- joel pre-outbreak is a lot more tame and controlled, he is still possesive and protective but he shoves it deep down. howwever if he sees someone flirting with you he slightly looses controls and will lash out, if you give him the go ahead he won’t refrain from teaching the person who flirted with you a proper beating. If you know them/ aren’t uncomfortable he will be more touchy and possessive, pulling you onto his lap and keeping his hands firmly on your hips. If the person makes a flirty comment or gets too close he’ll slightly dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your skin and bury his face into the back of your neck, inhaling your cologne to remind himself that you only have eyes for him.

(Post-out break)- it’s been so long and he’s lost so much that he is more protective of you than ever. He has little shame in public and is much more open to pda and a lot less afraid of showing people your his. If your uncomfortable he will grab the person by the collar and slam them against the wall/ ground, his face full of fury and his teeth gritted, veins bulging in his biceps.

‘That’s 𝗺𝘆 boyfriend you prick’ he’ll growl, if the person is scared enough he’ll drop them from his grasp and take your hand, dragging you back home. If they’re feeling bold and retort back, especially if it’s an insult towards you; he’ll move his hand to their neck and squeeze until their face goes red, eyes bulging and their trying desperately to choke out an apology as spittle rolls down their lips into their chin.

If you aren’t uncomfortable/ know them he won’t hurt them but he will pull you onto his lap with his hand on your inner thighs, rubbing his fingers over the materials of your jeans and closing his eyes to keep calm. If they continue being flirty he will put them in their place and tell them to back off.

Javi Gutierrez: he’s just a sweet boy so he may sit uncomfortably and twiddle with his fingers/ glass, biting his lip and reassuring himself that your his boyfriend and you only love him. If it gets to the point where your uncomfortable he will step in and stand in front of you protectively, asking the person to respectfully leave you both alone or just fuck off. If they leave he’ll turn around and pull you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck and gently stroking your hair. He’ll whisper about how much he loves you and how he’ll always be there to protect you. If they don’t leave he’ll call over one of his guards to escort them away and deal with them accordingly.

Marcus Moreno: he is less bothered about it because he knows you only have eyes for him but if he’s particularly annoyed that day he’ll huff and pull you closer to him, interlocking your hands and pressing kisses to your knuckles every so often to cam himself down. If your uncomfortable he will use his powers to tip their glass over onto them, as a way to get them to leave for a moment whilst he whisks you away back home where he’ll pull you onto the couch and cuddle you for the night.

Ezra: he also doesn’t care much and will just continue to sit there and watch you carefully, maybe resting a hand on your thigh to show the person that your together. If your uncomfortable he would pull out his gun and press it tk the side of the person head and whisper in their ear what he’ll do to them in detail if they don’t leave you alone. If the person is scared enough to leave you alone he’ll drag you back to the camp and remind you how much better he can treat you than anyone else…

Din Djarin: he’s so sweet and soft he wouldn’t know what to do, he’s never had a boyfriend before so he’s never had this problem. He’d shift in his seat and play the straps on his armour or he’ll pretend to be busy with grogu. If your uncomfortable he will immediately stand up and walk ignorant of you protectively, blaster out pointed at the persons throat.

‘I suggest you stop harassing my boyfriend or I’ll take you in cold no questions asked.’ His voice has dropped a few octaves and even though he’s wearing his helmet the person could feel his death stare piercing through them. If they leave he’ll turn round and scoop you up into us arms, marching back to the razor crest and anxiously fussing over you. He won’t stop until he’s completely reassured that your unhurt and okay. He’ll make you go to the bunk room to rest with grogu for the rest of the day/night

Frankie morales: he has little patience with people who think they have the right to flirt with you. He’s been through so much, and lost so many people to care anymore. If your unbothered/ know them he’ll walk up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear:

‘Can we leave sweetheart? I’m bored’ he’ll nibble under your ear gently and pester you until you eventually give in and go home. If you are uncomfortable he’d walk right up to the person and whisper into their ear

‘Leave him alone before i snap your neck’ and walk back to you with a smile, kissing your cheek. If they leave he’d stay and you’d both enjoy your night dancing or just sitting in each others presence. If they don’t leave he’d then back around to them and walk them into a wall, hand on their neck threateningly until they get scared enough and run away.

Agent whiskey: he has zero shame and self restraint around intolerant assholes who think they have the right to flirt with 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻. No matter if your uncomfortable or not, if he thinks the person is overstepping a friend level of talking/ touching he will be on them or out of there as quick as possible, depending on his mood. If he’s happy he’ll just grab your hand and leave, pulling you into his car and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, his eyebrows furrowed so far it must hurt. The second your home he’s on you, and he’s gonna be rough..

If he’s in a bad mood he will stand up, his chair falling over in the process and he will beat the person till they’re unrecognisable then pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, his knuckles bloody and face splattered in blood. He’ll lick some of the blood off his lip then walk all the way home, even if you have a car he’s too angry to care or remember.

Silva:he’s sweet but when it comes to you he’s a whole new level of possessive, he knows his way around a gun and lasso and he’s not afraid to use it. If your uncomfortable especially, he will beat them up and take you home, pampering you and fussing over you until you feel better.

Oberyn Martell: he’s not too bothered really, he’s used to sharing his partners around and taking others himself. But sometimes he has to remind himself that it’s different now that your both princes. He’d monitor you from his spot on his throne, sipping his wine and not taking his eyes off you for a moment. If you show a hint of uncomfort he’ll have it known he doesn’t need the guards to deal with this one, he’ll get the prince himself. He’ll stride up to them with a face contorted in anger, he’d choose a punishment, on a good day he’d punch them into the table and whisper in their ear to stay away from you, but if he’s particularly angry or they stepped way too far, he’ll challenge them to a duel or stab them with his dagger. Then he’d take your hand and lead you to your chambers, giving you a sensual massage and a night to unwind in his arms.

Dieter Bravo: he’s not used to being in a committed relationship and doesn’t really know how to go about the situation. He may try to intimidate the person and end up escalating the situation, ending up in him in the ER with a black eye, a poured lip as you hold his hand and stroke his hair. You’d end up having to save his ass instead of the other way round.

[almostempty]

me when my master plan materializes:

i will not stop until my threesome propaganda has reached critical mass and i log onto this website to find myself surrounded by three boyfriends and a gf bc we do deserve it babe 🫡

SPECIFICALly these guys

@gothcsz @auteurdelabre u complete me

[for-a-longlongtime]

It's time for a fic poll! 🏳‍🌈 Tell me tell me tell me.

I'm super curious about this! I feel like a lot of people in my online circle here share a lot of opinions on this, but I'd love to know what people think overall. Hoping y'all are willing to spread this one around to get a broader reach!

(I just want to emphasize that any answer you give is fine and that no one can see how you vote. Totally not judging you for any response! As a matter of fact, if you do NOT read gay PP character fic, I'd really love for you to vote and represent. <3 I'm not running a poll because I want to target fic, I'll always keep writing what comes to me - but I just like getting an idea of what people think, because I'm a nosy person. 😘)

Thank you for voting! And please drop a comment if you want to elaborate!

[romana-after-dark]

Symptom of Being Human (A Room's on Fire FishBen Bonus Chapter)

Francisco Morales x Benjamin Miller

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Frankie and Ben share in intimacy

Warnings and Content: Read warnings for the full fic, but for this bonus chapter, repressed queer love, mentions and references of forced breeding and brainwashing Madonna. Poor communication. Deluuuuuusions!

Song fic to Symptom of Being Human by Shinedown, a song found on the spotify playlist for the fic.

***************

I can still remember me and Miss November Rain Beautiful and strange Always so inclined, coloring outside the lines Yeah, you were never on time

Francisco slammed his dresser drawer closed after yanking some pyjamas out. Maybe he kicked it a little, he wasn't sure.

He could sense the moment Ben walked in through the door even if he hadn't heard him. Ben was good at sneaking around.

"Why are you so pissy today."

It was the glib in his voice that irked Francisco the most, the stpring in his step as he padded over to where Francisco was braced over the dresser.

"I'm not pissy." But even still, he stiffened to Ben's touch as he wrapped his arms around his lovers middle.

Benjamin kissed Francisco's neck in an attempt to relax him, closing his eyes to his scent, but Francisco rolled his shoulders and jerked himself out of Ben's grasp, taking two steps away. He hated this, he hated caring so much, he hated it being a secret, he hated having to sneak around when Pope could just have them whenever and however he wanted. It wasn't fair.

Ben's arms dropped to his side. "Hey. What's wrong?" He asked, genuine, but Francisco was still irritated. "C'mon, baby, talk to me..."

The older man scoffs. "You're surprised I don't wanna suck your dick when it's gonna taste like her?"

You've always been slightly awkward, kinda weird Upside down and not all here What's wrong with me and you is crystal clear

Benny's laugh was sardonic. "Oh, is that what the issue is?"

"Yes, that's what the issue is, Ben!"

He wanted to scoff at him, but sensed Francisco wasn't in the mood to be teased for his jealousy. "Frankie, baby," Benny placed a careful hand on Franciscos shoulder, turning him. Frankie faced him, but his head was hanging and not making eye contact. "Baby please look at me." He cupped the patchy beard and coaxed Franciscos face up to look at him.

"You were late..." Frankie mutters, eyes ever-avoidant. "You were late to be with me because you wanted her."

"Frankie..." Ben places a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry, okay? But it's not any different than you and Santi-"

"Yes it is!!!" Frankie steps back, but the bed was right there so he stumbles. Ben reaches for him, both of them falling onto the bed but sitting upright.

Benny's hand is on Francisco's chest. "Easy now..." He kissed the mans cheeks, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips. "I'm doing this for us, okay? The sooner she's pregnant, so sooner we can be together."

Sometimes I'm in a room where I don't belong And the house is on fire and there's no alarm And the walls are melting too How 'bout you?

Francisco was hesitant to believe him, but the way Benny looked at him, adoring blue eyes and his face framed in shaggy, dirty blonde hair... it was hard not to fall into his promises. "What do you mean..."

His eyes lit up, knowing that Francisco was listening. Ben smiled. "Once Madonna has the savior, everything will change, don't you understand?" He grabbed Frank's hand, pulling it to his chest as he scooted closer. "Pope will be so busy, his only focus will be raising the savior with Madonna, fullfiling the prophesy... he'll be too preoccupied with her to want you like that, it can just be us."

Shaking his head, Frank was not convinced. Pope wasn't like that. Pope was obsessive, possessive, he needed everyone and everything to belong to him. "Benjamin, that... I don't think that's what's gonna happen."

"But I do!" Ben was practically bouncing on the bed with excitement; his evergy never ceased to amaze Francisco, constantly animated by the next new exciting thing, but always coming back to Francisco. "Once the savior is born, well, the world will change, Frankie! Things will finally be allowed to be good." He kissed his lovers knuckles. "And what can be more good than us being together?"

Frankie didn't believe any of this for a second. He didn't believe there was a savior, or that they were gods... Ben did, and Benjamin Joseph Miller was an unstoppable force... but Santiago was an immoveable object. Still, as Ben began kissing his lips, his tongue sliding into his mouth, Francisco was, in fact, a moveable object. To Santiago, he was a stoppable force. Franisco felt like the rope in a game of tug of war, and push and pull between the two men in a covert battle.

Ben would never ever outwardly disrespect Pope. Pope was what Ben wanted to be. He admired Pope in a way he used to admire his older brother, long before jealousy and anger and drugs tore them apart. Benjamin would do anything for Santi's approval, and the look on his face when Ben was under him always made Frank jealous... then he had to remind himself that was a rare occurence compared to how often Ben was the voyer in those situations, and how much harder it much be for him knowing how often it happened behind closed doors.

He never even spoke badly about Pope in these intimate moments, Frank learning quickly to not say anything negative about their leader or even hint at disloyalty, because it always turned into a fight. Ben defended their friend to the death. What Ben couldn't understand, however, was that Frankie loved Pope too. Santiago was a good leader, he kept things prosperous in their community and he was like a brother to Frankie. He'd never known a life outside of Pope... but he was not perfect, and he wished Ben could see that. Unfortunately, to Ben, questioning Santi at all meant questioning his infallibility as a God, and if he questioned that... Ben's entire reality fell.

I've never been the favorite, thought I'd seen it all 'Til I got my invitation to the lunatic ball And my friends are coming too How 'bout you? Don't worry, it's all just a symptom of being human

"Benjamin..." Frank moaned into the boys mouth and he palmed him over his jeans.

"Fuck, love when you say my full name."

He knew he was irresistible, he know he was attractive in both looks and charm when he wanted to turn it all, that's why he spent so much time between the legs of women in their commune, on top of Frankie or under Santi. Everyone wanted him, and those that didn't... well, they got him either way.

"Off." Ben ordered, unzipping Frankie's pants and tugging them down when he lifted his hips up. Francisco soon found himself laying down on his bed in his boxers with Ben grinding into him. His pants were still on, the rough material adding to the pressure of their cocks grinding together.

Their hands explored each other's bodies as if this was a new landscape, as it they weren't intimately familiar already. Ben squeezed the soft of his sides as Frankie felt the hard of his chest. It didn't matter how different they were, quiet and loud. Fire, and a gentle flower waiting to be scorched like the earth around it. The flower simply basked in the warmth of the sun, unaware it was withering away.

Unpack all your baggage, hide it in the attic where You hope it disappears This all seems so familiar, but it doesn't feel like home It's just another unknown

Nothing mattered in these moments; Benjamin was the only thing that would calm his racing mind.

Ben sat up, still straddling Francisco and pulled his shirt over his head. Francisco was always mesmerized by this view, the way Benjamin's muscles flexed and moved, the dim light of the shitty lamp casting shadows across his chest. Taught and strong, lean muscles gave way further down to the jutting of his hipbones and golden tan skin. Right at the ends of his abs was a trail of brown hair, much darker than that on his head and face, cut off just barely before his pubic hair by his low-slung jeans.

Frankie couldn't help but gaze up at the sun god... in moments like this, with this view... Francisco could fool himself into believing the god-hood of his paramour. If God was real, Benjamin was his divine gift. Nights alone with him were the closest to heaven that he'd ever be, considering all Francisco had done in his lifetime.

"You're beautiful..." he murmured up him.

Ben's wide grin softened, folding back over Ben to pepper kisses all over Frankie's aged face. "Not as beautiful as you, darl'n"

You've always been slightly awkward, kinda weird Upside down and not all here Right or wrong, it's all so crystal clear

Francisco was not an open person. He didn't let his emotions show, good or bad. Not the way Will expressed his pain or his love, the way Pope expressed his rage, or how Ben expressed his joy. Nothing like that came easy to him. He was aware of the way Madonna watched him pensively, probably wondering why he didn't talk to her, why he didn't fuck her outside of when Pope dragged them together for a threesome...

With Benjamin, he was laid bare, naked and venerable, allowing Benjamin inside him physically and emotionally into the deepest reaches. They were as connected as two people could be, and no one saw Frankie's heart the way Ben did. No one could fill him the way Ben did.

"Perfect, fucking perfect." Ben grunted into Frank's ear as he fucked into his hole, spreading him open. Francisco laid back on the bed, his knees bent and pressed up against his stomach where Ben held there, squeezing his aching member between himself.

Frankie whispers, a contrast to Ben's loud noise, "I love you, Benjamin."

"I love you too, Francisco, don't you ever forget that" Ben moved to his mouth, kissing him and only stopping to mumble against his lips. "She can't compare to you, okay? She doesn't matter. No pussy can compare to you, got it?"

"Got it." He did. Later, when Ben left before daylight and Francisco was there alone in bad, reaching over to Ben's side just to feel the bit of his body heat left behind, doubt would creep in. When he heard Ben bragging to Will about the latest girl he railed over a fence post or against a wall, he would wonder why he wasn't enough for Ben. When he saw his handsome lover trying to fuck a baby into Madonna or kissing Santiago, he'd be reminded that the sex they shared was not unique to Benny, he didn't need him for that.

But as Ben spread his legs, jerking Frankie's weeping cock and thrusting into him, never stopping kissing him, not even long enough for them to breath. He felt like he was Ben's entire world.

The dizzying orgasm made Francisco feel like maybe, just maybe things could be different. Maybe, if Madonna got pregnant, Pope would lose interest in Francisco; what use is someone who couldn't give him children?

Maybe then, him and Ben could hold hands out in the open.

We're all just passing through Passengers on a ship of fools We're all just passing through Passengers on a ship of fools

********************

Not gonna lie, friends in my phone, I teared up writing this.

I write some FishBen on my main, and it's always a lil angsty but happy ending bc they love each other. Deeply. Even when I don't write them romantic, they are very very close, Like in Leather and Lace Universe.

Here, though.... :( they can't be out, they are just angsty and love

Anyway Im obsessed with this song and listened to it for an hour on my drive planning this fic.

Up next, Steve x reader x javi for toxi <3

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[odetodilfs]

Waking up

A/N: My first Frankie smut! This was a pleasure to write, cleanse yourselves off from the dirtiness of that Joel fic with soft smut. Also don't expect such consistency from me yet again, I just had this halfway done already.

Pairing: bottom!Frankie Morales x top!male reader

CWs: SMUT, established relationship, breeding, cockwarming.

Summary: Just waking up with Frankie on a Sunday morning and cuddle fucking, both needy for each other.

If you liked this, make sure to reblog!

It was a calm, Sunday morning in bed, still sleeping with Frankie, having your arms around his torso and spooning him, it was so calm, so dreamy and beautiful. Last night, you ate Frankie out real good and he had given you a handjob.. but that simply didn’t do it for you, it had been almost a month and a half without fucking Frankie, and that thought invaded you even in your sleep… as you were now grinding on him subconsciously while you were asleep, which woke him up. 

“Pst, y/n” he whispered, not being too rough to scare you awake, you opened one eye tiredly as your grinding came to an end, “You’re rather needy, aren’t you?” he teased slightly, laughing softly, you loved his laugh. “Yes, yes I am” you replied with a chuckle as you realized why he was saying that, noticing how your hips felt tired and your dick was hard as a rock “Who’s my beautiful needy man?” he asked you, petting your hair, almost like a dog, quite suddenly he brought your chin up for a kiss on the lips and you moaned into his mouth. You could tell Frankie needed you too. You brought your hand to his thigh, he gasped in surprise, though he didn’t really know why, he knew how much you loved his thighs and ass. “What were you thinking? Sleeping with your ass right on my crotch?” you asked him, “Things” he said as he winked and you grabbed some lube on the nightstand, you freed your dick from the restraints of your boxers and pulled Frankie’s down. After this, you squirted lube on your fingers, immediately putting your index in Frankie’s ass. “F-fuck-” your man moaned as you inserted your digit into him, you started to probe around for his prostate. When you found it, a loud moan from Frankie signaled you that that was the spot, you gently pushed in another finger into the man, “Oh- it feels- s-so good-” he moaned, knowing he was in for an even better time after you were done fingering him.

You did this for a while, he was so tight after you hadn’t been inside him for so long, normally you’d only manage to go 2 weeks without doing it but life had been busy in the past month, and now you finally had the time. His moans were heavenly as you pumped your fingers in and out of the tight hole.

You lubed up your dick and held his thigh up, letting him be more spread out for you, “Ready, darling?” you asked him, he nodded as you carefully started to go inside him. He let out a long, soft moan. Frankie was so fucking tight, his walls gripped your cock like it would be the last time you fucked him. You kissed his cheek as he kept moaning, “Shh, it’s okay my love, you’re taking me so well…” you comforted him as you rubbed his chest and then took your hand and lifted his thigh up, so his legs were more spread for you. “I love you..” Frankie said in breathy moans,

“Love you too, Francisco” he shook and let out another moan when you said his full name. 

You didn’t move much, what you wanted was Frankie to feel pleasure and comfort, it wasn’t one of those desperate times, this was about making the other feel good and to have a good Sunday morning. You fucked into him gently from behind, all you could hear were moans, sobs and whimpers of pleasure. You kissed his neck, ever so slightly sucking on it but not with the intention of marking him, just to amp up the pleasure he felt a little, his hole clenched with each kiss you gave him.

But you wanted to see your husband’s face, you wanted to see his pleasure, not just hear it, “Frankie.. turn on your other side, please” you asked so gently, pulling out, and he did. You lifted the covers to see his hole so you could put your dick inside him. When you were back inside him, Frankie made an expression of intense pleasure and need, your face making everything better for him as you leaned down and kissed his neck, chest and lips. His hole was still tight and you two now wrapped in an embrace, it was heaven for you two. Soon enough you heard Frankie moan louder than usual, “Oh- y/n- I’m gonna..” he tried to say, you wanted him to cum, you wanted to see his pleasure, “Oh my god!” Frankie sobbed out in pleasure as you felt your stomach grow wet with his cum. His hole spasmed and clenched around your cock, forcing you to cum inside him as intense pleasure washed over you and you unloaded inside him.

You laid there, feeling each other, locked together by your tiredness and love for each other, “How about a little more sleep?” you asked him with a smile, your dick was still inside him, “Sounds like a plan” he said. You took the cum he’d splashed onto your stomach with your fingers and ate it. It tasted salty and sweet at the same time, Frankie smiled, seeing you enjoy his release, “Let’s sleep now, okay?” you asked him as you snuggled into each other, your cock was still inside him and you may have had a round 2 that morning.

[dilfsgonedoughy]

Frankie’s had a bit too much to drink

[traningdummy]

From the Start - Frankie Morales

another work, sorry if it felt rushed I just liked it and wanted to get it out soon

Y/n L/n, aka Stingray is one of many friends with Frankie, yet he was the only one to be in love with the man. Always loving the moments when it’s just the two of them, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. But he knows Frankie doesn’t feel the same, so he doesn’t act on his feelings.

Yet Santiago could tell what the younger man felt towards his friend, it was obvious when he caught the man staring at Frankie. His pupils would be blown out, like he was staring right at the sun. So he took it on himself to be the wingman, to both Frankie and Y/n.

“You know, you’re not very good at hiding your feelings, Sting.” Santiago said as he saw the man staring at Frankie talking with a girl. The man was startled by the other man’s presence but calmed immediately, and took a drink of his beer.

“Thanks for telling me Santi, it seems like everyone besides Frankie can tell.” He said with a sigh, prying his eyes away from the sight that made him feel jealous. When he looked at his friend he saw a certain light in his eyes that made Y/n scared, as it usually led to something. “What’s with that look?” He asked and the older man gave a smile.

“Oh nothing, I was gonna ask to be your wingman so I can set this year's long tension.” He said drinking the beer he got, Y/n took a minute to consider the offer. He wanted Frankie to know what he felt like, yet he also didn’t want to ruin the relationship he has with him right now. He took a sigh before taking another drink.

“Fine Santi, you can play the matchmaker.” Y/n said with heavy reluctance in his tone, the man nodded already having a plan in his head.

•••

As the weeks went on Santiago gave Y/n plans on what to do, play Frankie’s favorite songs whenever they drive together, make sure to compliment him when necessary. While Santiago helped Y/n, on that night he also decided to help Frankie.

“Dammit, he’s not looking is he?” Frankie asked when he saw Y/n laughing with a few of his friends. The man sighed and ordered a drink, then came over Santiago. “Hey, you enjoying the night?” Frankie asked his friend who nodded.

“Yep, I’m glad your flying is better than your attempts to get Y/n’s attention.” He said as he saw the man trying to make Y/n feel jealous. Frankie scoffed and thanked the bartender when he got his drink.

“Yeah, it’s a sad display isn’t it?” He remarked to Santiago, taking a chug from his drink. He sighed as he watched Y/n, too drunk to care if his best friend was watching him. All he wanted was to get Y/n’s attention, to tell him how he feels.

Thankfully for Frankie, Santiago was going to play for both sides. Him and Y/n, a double wing man wanting to get his two friends together. “You want me to play your wingman this time?” He offered it to his best friend. Frankie looked over and nodded, wanting any sort of help.

•••

It took a few months of Santiago helping both Y/n and Frankie, giving them both tips on how to flirt subtly. He also showed them how to flirt without any subtly, Y/n would wear some looser clothes which would show off his neck which Frankie loved, and Frankie would wear some tight jeans showing his ass to Y/n.

At that point both men had a feeling they liked each other, which made Santiago glad his wingman teachings were about to end. Watching them both flirt more and more, it made him happy. Then finally all the tension Frankie and Y/n had built up would dissipate on one New Year’s party.

•••

The party was held at Y/n’s house, he had music, drinks, loads of food, a tv with the ball dropping, and best of all his friends and family were there. Overall it was a great party for him, which would get better as the night progressed.

“Santiago!” He yelled with glee when he came in, bringing some beer and food. Y/n pulled him into a hug before his aunt led him to the kitchen. When everyone arrived the party started, which had Frankie and Y/n sitting on the couch.

Drinks in hand as they talked, laughed, and overall enjoyed each other’s presence. Y/n kept a hand on Frankie’s knee as they talked, moving ever so close to him. Frankie caught his small movements and reciprocated by doing the fake yawn and arm over the shoulder.

Santiago watched from the kitchen with a smile. Y/n’s mom watched with a smile as well, seeing her son happy. “He’s a good kid, but I bet you already know that.” Santiago told Y/n’s mom who nodded.

Soon enough the ball was soon to drop, everyone watched the tv. Counting down, and when the clock struck midnight everyone cheered. Y/n and Frankie kissed each other, as it was new years tradition. Yet neither of them knew how, but they ended up in Y/n’s room.

Frankie kissed all over Y/n’s neck, leaving marks and hickeys behind as he moved. Y/n kept feeling Frankie's butt as his neck was getting assaulted with kisses. “Fuck, it feels like I’m messing with dough.” He muttered as he kept going, feeling Frankie’s assault soon stop.

Y/n then took the advantage and got himself above the man, taking off both of their shirts before kissing all over Frankie’s body. The man under him groaned as he watched Y/n work, he was so glad he really was a lucky man.

“You have adorable puppy eyes, it’s almost like my weakness.” Y/n said to the man, as he kept kissing and sucking before stopping at his waist. “Can I?” He asked and Frankie nodded desperately, wanting to have his dick free.

Y/n removed the man’s jeans and out his hard cock came, Frankie groaned when the cold air hit it. Yet before he could say anything, Y/n began to suck on it. Catching him off guard and making him moan, Frankie held Y/n’s head as he kept going up and down feeling through his hair.

Y/n then decided to test his abilities and tried to take all of Frankies cock into his mouth. He gagged a little yet the man holding his head slowly pushed him down as well. “You’re doing so well Sting, just a little more.” He muttered as he watched Y/n go down.

Soon Y/n reached the base, moaning on Frankie’s cock. Said man groaned softly at the vibrations, he played with Y/n’s hair before slowly fucking his mouth. Thankfully, the man’s gags couldn’t be heard over the loud music outside. Yet Frankie heard him loud and clear, it made him feel pride in himself.

He was fucking Y/n’s throat, making him gag, moan, and whimper. He made marks all over the man’s throat, and the man did the same to his body. He is truly in love with the man, and nothing could ever ruin this moment.

So Frankie stopped his thrusting and held Y/n’s head up, the man was confused but didn’t say anything. Seeing Frankie’s love struck eyes made him smile, slightly ignoring the drool coming out of his mouth. “Come here.” He whispered and Y/n went over to the man and sat on his lap.

“So handsome, and all of it is saved for me and me only.” Y/n mumbled, the two kissed again and it was a lot more sensual then the first. Frankie felt Y/n’s hands on his ass but he didn’t care, as he just wanted to savor this moment.

•••

The next day Santiago couldn’t help himself with messing with the couple. Always embarrassing them with how obvious they were with their love to one another. Yet they were also both oblivious to the others love, he found it funny.

[insolent-uprising]

Writing details and specifics

Types of writing:

One-shots

Imagines

Headcannons

Blurbs

Multichapter fics (to be completely transparent, however, this is risky. I have a short attention span and tend to burn out on longer pieces. If you have a prompt in mind though, it should turn out great!)

Characters I write for:

Joel Miller [game or show version] (The Last of Us)

Ellie Williams [game or show version] (The Last of Us)

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)

Javier Pena (Narcos)

Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Javi G (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

Ezra (Prospect)

Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

Dio Morrissey (NYPD Blue)

Max Phillips (Bloodsucking Bastards)

If it seems I missed one or you'd like to ask for more specifics, send me an ask.

NSWF Yes's:

Most kinks, including but not limited to:

Choking

Bondage

Breeding kink

Rough

Dom/Sub dynamics (you choose the specifics of said dynamics)

Daddy/Mommy kink (try to keep it a little light on this one though, with me specifically it can come out a little cringey if too much emphasis is put on it)

Anal

Spitting

Slapping or spanking (keep it fairly light, see NSFW No's)

Praise kink

Degradation kink

Feral! characters

Aphrodisiacs (see sex pollen trope)

Pegging

Risky! sex (see NSFW No's for specifics)

Sex work

Cockwarming

Oral (m or f recieving)

Mild weapon play (see NSFW No's)

Voyeurism

Masturbation (mutual or solitary)

MAYBE dubcon, depending on the circumstances provided (CONSENT IS KEY. I am not promoting dubcon in real life in any way, this is a work of fiction. Always ask your partner for consent <3)

Again, the list of kinks I will write for is not limited to that list. If you have any questions or requests for kinks not on either list, please send me an ask.

NSFW No's:

Underage sex

Rape/excessive noncon

Excessive violence (see NSFW Yes's)

Foot fetish (Sorry to the people that are into it, I'm just not capable or comfortable in writing this kind of work.)

Public sex (this makes me uncomfortable as well, sorry guys)

Absolutely NO HBO Ellie or TLOU 1 Ellie (see NSFW No's #1)

Slurs

Consensual breeding

Bestiality

Any elements of pedophilia

Any Ellie x male reader works. (this applies to SFW and NSFW alike) Please respect her sexuality.

Any works revolving around Pedro himself. (this applies to SFW and NSFW alike) Pedro is a real person and it makes me uncomfortable to write for him. He has a real life and real feelings, I don't want to violate him in such a way. (For anyone thinking this applies to Javier Pena as well, I write strictly for Pedro's portrayal of him. Javi is a fictionalized version of the real life agent.)

If you have any questions regarding this list feel free to send an ask :) Also, no kink shaming whatsoever will be allowed in this space.

Random notes:

Willing to do any tropes!! If you have a specific one in mind, hit me up!

Storylines don't have to be romantic or sexual!! I've noticed a lot of writers don't include platonic works in their library! Sometimes all we need is a friend or family figure. If it's good with you, it's good with me! <3

If a storyline bothers you, please don't spread hate. If you must, please share your opinion in a respectful and polite way.

I'm willing to write for female, male, and gender neutral readers. I'll generally write for afab (often female identifying as well) readers, just because that's what I write best. However, I have no problem writing for any other types of people if requested!! The writing may not be as accurate, but I'd love to include everyone here <3

If you have any extra specific prompts, such as a dialogue snippet, I accept all requests!! Send em in!

[mynameisbangkok]

I will see in a few minutes strange way of life and i'm super excited 📈📈📈📈📈

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 1) "transmission"

gif by me, moodboard by the lovely @sp00kymulderr ♥

pairing: frankie morales/nb!oc (they/them) rating: T (for now) chapter warnings: discussions of sexuality/gender (frankie doesn't understand some things and may use language that would be harmful, but it's not intentional), limited knowledge of the military, goth stereotypes abound, mentions of drug addiction/recovery, swearing, cute shit word count: 2.7k dividers by @saradika

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary and turn on alerts ♥

series summary: frankie morales thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

a/n - i can't thank y'all enough for giving my fic a chance! i'm really nervous about posting it since i haven't properly written anything in years, but i've had some lovely cheerleaders (@scenaaario - who is also my lovely beta, i want to kiss you on the mouth for making this fic sound like i wanted it to ♥♥ - @undercoverpena @mrsquill and @kedsandtubesocks i love you guys ♥) along the way that gave me the motivation to post this little story. comments and reblogs are super appreciated! i'd love to hear what y'all think <3

In 1994, the U.S. adopted “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” as the official federal policy on military service by lesbian, gay and bisexual individuals. It was officially repealed in 2011. Seventeen years. For seventeen years, LGBTQ folks, Frankie included, had to hide. At least, he felt he needed to.

He knew he was bisexual when he and his childhood best friend Mateo were in their sophomore year of high school. Frankie and all the other boys started to hit puberty the year before and things were changing: facial hair was slowly growing, voices were dropping.  Mateo started to develop a little faster than Frankie did. Frankie really liked how Mateo was developing. It was a little weird, because they’d been best friends since they were still wearing underoos, but Frankie started to feel things whenever he hung out with Mateo. Things he normally only felt whenever Alana in third period flipped her hair over her shoulder, or whenever Charlotte in fifth period stretched before she started writing and her sweater pulled over her chest a little too much.

Frankie didn’t know what to do with this information or these feelings. He didn’t have a word for any of it, so he just never said anything. He had a couple girlfriends throughout high school, and to anyone who cared to think on it, would see that Frankie was like any other straight, high school boy.

In 1994, Francisco Morales joined the military. He was nineteen. It was never his plan growing up to join, but his dad always wanted him to. When he didn’t have his own plan after high school, he figured it was a safe bet since he had family in the service. While there, he worked his way up in the ranks and eventually met his brothers: Santiago, Benny, Will, and Tom. They would die for each other, had signed up to do so, in fact. He’d grown closest to Santiago, and it was the first time since he was 15 that he got those feelings again. He pushed them to the side, though, because that’s when she came into his life. He didn’t need those feelings getting in the way.

Frankie’s bisexuality really only came into his life a couple of times. His first girlfriend in the military, Layla, was also bisexual and that’s when he learned what the word was and that it also applied to him. She only ever told him since Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was in full swing. Of course he kept her secret, because she also kept his.

The only one of his group of brothers that didn’t know about his sexuality was Tom. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him, and the others agreed it was best to keep it quiet. Santiago was the first one to know, then Will, and finally Benny. Ben was Ben about it when he found out. He immediately hugged Frankie and excitedly suggested they go to a gay bar instead of their usual hang out. It made Frankie laugh and Will smacked Ben on the back of the head. (They did end up going to a couple of gay bars from time to time. Frankie only went home with a guy once and the guys gave him a lot of shit for it, asking for details. Santiago gave him a smile and patted him on the back and said, “I’m glad you’re finally here, hermano.”)

Frankie had one man he’d consider a “boyfriend” in his life. After he left the military and after DADT was repealed, he went on a bit of a binge. He started hooking up with people more often, despite his introverted nature. He was always careful, safe, and eventually kept to one man for a couple years, before an especially messy breakup.  They were both pilots in the military, but were based in different states; Frankie in Florida, and Jackson in Kentucky. They bonded quickly after meeting at a nightclub in Nashville. Neither one of them remembers why they were there, but they made it a point to see each other frequently, each of them taking turns flying out to see the other.

The breakup happened after Jackson found Frankie’s stash for the last time. The military affected everyone differently. For Frankie, his coke addiction is what got him through the sleepless nights. Jackson had found Frankie one too many times leaned over the back of a toilet and snorting god knows what. Jackson had his own problems with drugs and felt that Frankie ignored them in search of his next fix. Addiction had completely taken over Frankie’s life for the better part of five years. Frankie hated Jackson for leaving him when he most needed him, and lashed out, accusing Jackson of only ever wanting to fuck. That broke Jackson, as he thought about how deeply he loved Frankie. Gay marriage was legalized a year later, and had things panned out differently, they might still be together. He doesn’t blame Jackson for leaving anymore.

Frankie’s daughter, Marisol, changed everything. She was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. After going back to his days of sleeping around after Jackson left, he met Maya. He kept telling her that he would get clean and go to therapy while she was pregnant, but not until he held his little Marisol in his arms for the first time did he commit to both. He and Maya never planned on being together officially, and decided co-parenting would be their best option. 

He’d been clean and sober for two years by the time Santi told him about the Colombia job. He hadn’t flown, or been allowed to in that time, and was pretty content to never do so again. Every time he got in the pilot’s seat, it would take him to terrible places. But Santi was his best friend, so he took the job. He relapsed when he got home, after Tom. He never blamed Santi for it. He gave Frankie a choice, and where he could’ve said no, he didn’t.

Which brings him to where he is now, two years after Colombia. He’d crossed the street and stood in line for the entrance. He hadn’t been to this nightclub in a while. He looked up at the sign for the club, and raised an eyebrow. The Night Owl. That… isn’t what it was called last time. Was it sold? Apparently, it had recently undergone a rebranding, with new owners, and a slightly… different clientele. 

The best way he could describe it now was that it was a goth club. Frankie had never personally been to this sort of club, not really being a fan of the music or subculture, but never had a negative opinion either. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he entered, the bouncer giving him a once over and chuckling, but letting him in anyway. 

He made his way over to the bar and had a seat, taking in his surroundings and started people watching. He planned on going out tonight, and possibly go home with someone. A club is a club, so he decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about. 

The walls shook with the heavy bass and beats of the music. It wasn’t like anything he’d heard before. His nostrils filled with the scent of clove cigarettes and hairspray. Everywhere he looked, someone completely decked out in teased hair and black clothing caught his attention. He smiled softly at all the variations in people’s style, wondering how long it took for all of them to get ready in the morning.

The bartender, a large man with heavy eye makeup and a lot of chains and spikes, came up to him and smirked. He felt a presence behind him and when Frankie finally faced forward again, he startled a little, not expecting such an imposing figure to be giving him a staredown.

“What’ll you be havin’, stripes?”

“Stripes?”

The bartender, who had a patch sewed onto his denim vest that read “Viper”, rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely to Frankie’s whole self. “You mean to tell me you’re not military?”

Frankie blinked a couple times and huffed a laugh. “Ex-military, yeah. Is that… okay?”

Viper gave him a long look, eyes slightly narrowed, and pointed to one of the many tattoos on his arm, up high on his shoulder. It was an old one, a little faded, but Frankie recognized it as the stripes given to Sergeant Majors.  “I left after this. Got injured,” he said.

“Sorry to hear that.”

Viper shrugged and reached under the bar, cleaning a glass. “I’m not. So what’re you havin’?”

Frankie thought about it for a second. “I’ll probably regret this, but surprise me.”

An amused look crossed Viper’s features, but he nodded and started mixing a drink for him. Frankie noticed all the ingredients used; lager beer, hard cider, and some kind of syrup. He raised a brow and picked up the glass as Viper slid it across the bar for him. Frankie gave him a look as if to say, ‘Is this safe?’ despite having just watched Viper make it. The bartender chuckled and just gestured for him to give it a try.

Frankie took a deep breath and gulped down a drink. A little foam was stuck to his mustache when he lowered the glass from his face. “Not bad. What is it?” Frankie asked.

“Snakebite. Kind of a staple around here,” Viper hummed, cleaning a different glass.

Frankie chuckled at the name. Of course that’s what it was called. 

Viper was pulled away when a pretty girl with big, teased hair and dark makeup came up to the bar. Frankie took the opportunity to look around the place again.

The music was best described as “dark” and “broody”, unsurprisingly, with slow tempos and even lower vocals. Everyone on the dancefloor was slowly swaying back and forth and, once in a while, would move their arms in ethereal shapes. 

Frankie remembered seeing one of the younger teachers at Marisol’s daycare wearing a t-shirt with a band logo that looked like a bundle of sticks. He tried figuring out what it said once, but was too afraid to ask, so he still doesn’t know. He doesn’t think she’d be at this kind of club.

“You’re new. Bit like a zoo your first time here, I bet.”

Frankie startled, putting his hand over his heart and turned to look at who was talking. Someone had sat next to him and was grinning, taking a sip from their own drink; something dark red and a little cloudy. He blinked a couple times and took in their features; big green eyes rimmed with dark lines, two different nose piercings, and black lipstick. Their hair was long and straight, dark, and with the right side in front of their ear shaved completely. He couldn’t quite figure out if who he was talking to was male or female, the androgyny of their look very clear.

“Uhh, hello?” They waved their hand, full of rings and black nail polish, in front of his face and chuckled quietly. “Oh! Maybe–” They cut themselves off and started making a bunch of symbols and shapes with their fingers and hands.

Frankie blinked and started laughing softly. “I’m not deaf! Sorry,” he grinned. “You just startled me, that's all.”

“Oh!” The stranger laughed, too, putting a hand on his right knee in a friendly gesture. He looked down at the hand and smiled, his heart skipping a beat. Even if he didn’t know very much about them, he couldn’t deny it; they were very pretty.

He removed his cap and ran his fingers through the unruly curls for a second before putting the hat back on. “Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, it’s my first time here. I didn’t realize the club had changed owners.”

“It did?” They asked, tilting their head to the left slightly. 

“Yeah, it was a– Uh, last time I was here, it was a… different kind of club,” Frankie mumbled. 

The stranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, the smirk still present on their lips. “What kind of club? Are you secretly into some really heavy BDSM type stuff?” They wiggled their eyebrows.

Frankie had started taking a drink of his Snakebite again and nearly choked on it at the stranger’s teasing. He coughed a couple times, a wide grin on his face. “No! Nothing like that,” he chuckled.

The stranger snapped their ring-clad fingers like they were hoping he’d say otherwise and slumped their shoulders in disappointment. “Damn…”

Frankie’s cheeks warmed at the insinuation, but laughed, convinced they were just joking with him. He cleared his throat and continued, “Y-Yeah, uh, I wasn’t expecting this kind of… group, when I came by. Although, the name of the place probably should’ve warned me.”

“What kind of group?” The stranger grinned, watching his handsome features change from thoughtful to concerned.

Frankie panicked, worried he’d somehow offended them, and cleared his throat again. “N-Not that there’s anything wrong with– Um! I don’t, actually… know,” he tapered off, looking down as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

The stranger snorted and waved him off. “I’m fucking with you,” they laughed. “I know what you mean. When I heard a new club opened up closer to my apartment, I got pretty excited. No more hour-long drives to the nearest one, y’know?”

Frankie nodded, their low, smooth voice captivating him the longer they spoke.

“Oh! Meant to say this before, but my name’s River,” they smiled and held their hand out to him to shake.

“Frankie,” he answered, holding his own hand out to return the gesture. But River beat him to it, and gripped his long, thick fingers in their own hand and kissed the back of his softly.

Frankie blushed like mad, eyes widening slightly. No one had ever kissed his hand before. He kept his eyes downcast, his hand still securely in River’s grasp.

River tilted their head, brows furrowed in concern before letting go of his hand. “Sorry, was that–?”

“No! N-No, um…” Frankie smiled shyly, tugging at a loose curl behind his ear. “It was fine– Nice, actually.”

River grinned as if they had clocked him immediately. “Well, Frankie, it was very nice meeting you. Will I see you here again?” They asked, looking him up and down.

Frankie found himself nodding before he could say or do anything else. “Y-Yeah, absolutely. Um, how–?”

“My song just came on, and I simply must dance to it. Later,” River winked, stood, and leaned over to kiss Frankie’s cheek as they slipped something into the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

River was gone before Frankie could ask anything else, his eyes following after them as they reached the dancefloor. He watched them dance for a few minutes before he was brought out of it by someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun around and saw Viper, the bartender, leaning toward him and giving him a look.

“You gonna pay for these drinks?” He grumbled, motioning toward Frankie’s Snakebite and whatever River was drinking.

He followed Viper’s tattooed finger and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his wallet out and putting a couple bills on the bar. Viper nodded in thanks and Frankie took that as his cue to leave.

As he stood, he looked toward the dancefloor again in the hopes of seeing River one last time. When he didn’t, he tried to shake himself off and made his way toward the entrance. The bouncer gave him a look and Frankie just shrugged as he exited the club. The cool night air hit his still-warm cheeks, making him feel like he came back to reality. 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled to himself and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a little scrap of paper. A phone number with two cute little devil horns drawn on either side and a little, ‘text me?’ written down beneath it.

Frankie smiled to himself and rubbed the ink on the paper with his thumb.

[pedros-husband]

you steal their clothes

pedro pascal characters x male/gn! reader

characters included: Javier Pena, Joel Miller, Javi Gutierrez, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, agent whiskey, Silva, Oberyn Martell, Dave York, dieter bravo, Tim Rockford, Dio Morrisey

Javier pena: he thinks you look extremely hot in any of his clothes especially if you wear any of his tight jeans, the way the fabric clings to your ass has him reeling. and if your alone in the office/at home, he'll have you bent over a desk or in the sheets in moments. he doesn't hide how hot he thinks you look in them either, it's a lot of flirty comments and lingering touches. if you aren't in private he might walk up behind you and start trailing kisses down your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he whispers what he wishes he could do to you.

Joel miller: he won’t admit it but he thinks you look so handsome/gorgeous in any of his clothes, especially his flannel shirts, so when he catches you wearing one of them his eyes will light up and a small smile will play on his lips-only for a second though. Then he will silently walk over to you and wrap you up in his arms, smiling into your neck. And if it’s your day off he will push you down on to the couch/bed and hold you close in his arms, your face pressed into his chest as he runs his hands over the curves and contours of your body. If you try and mention how clingy he’s being and how he likes you wearing his clothes- he’ll shut you up with kisses and cuddles until you forgot all about what you where saying. (Sometimes it goes a little further and he’ll rip the shirt off you in heated desire, the buttons popping off as you gasp and he just grumbles about how he doesn’t care)

Javi Gutierrez: he smiles so wide like a puppy and sweeps you up in his arms whispering every pet name under the sun, kissing your cheek and trailing them down your arms and to your hands, telling you how he loves the way you look in his clothes. He will immediately propose that the two of you cuddle and watch all his favourite nick cage movies- and who are you to say no to that cute face?

Marcus Moreno: he melts when he sees you cuddled up in one of his hoodies and as long as he’s finished all his work he’ll drop anything he’s doing to wrap you up in his arms mumbling. How he’s so lucky to have you and to be your husband. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you and not necessarily in a sexual way he just needs to be touching you in some way, even if it’s just the pinkies touching on the couch if your working otherwise his whole body will be draped over you in a big bear hug.

Ezra: let’s be real he only really has a couple of undershirts and pants for under his suit so if you wear any of his clothes they’re going to be quite tight fitting (just pretend they would be okay) and so he’ll drool over you and immediately decide that the orlac hunting can wake a couple more minutes whilst he indulges in his favorite treasure…

Din djarin: he doesn’t wear anything other than his Mando armour like Ezra so instead if your a mando like him and you take your top armour off and are left in just your undershirt and trousers, he’ll flip the razor crest into autopilot and drag you back into the bunk room to retrace some tension he’s feeling

Frankie morales: he thinks you look so hot in his clothes even if it’s just his baseball hat (maybe with nothing else at all) and will twirl you around, smiling like an idiot, before swooping you up and putting you down on the couch, wrapped up in his arms. He won’t let you leave his grasp until the image of you in whatever your wearing is permanently engraved into his brain.

Agent whiskey: he thinks it’s the sexiest thing in the world, seeing you all cozy on the couch or doing the dishes in his shirts and shorts, he’ll walk up behind you , wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your neck, inhaling the smell of your cologne/ soap and smile. Sometimes he’ll whisk you off to the bedroom as well

Silva: he loves when you wear his cowboy hat or his old bandana, to him it shows that your his and no one else’s, and anyone who sees you will know that your his as well.

Oberyn martell: he has quite a few of each of his robes as spares and such as he’s the prince so when he catches you wearing his yellow robe his jaw drops to the floor. No matter if he’s attending an important meeting or training, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and whisk you back to your chambers.

Dave York: he’ll play it off like he’s pissed that you stole his clothes but will secretly steal looks when your not looking, his eyes wandering over your body as he bites his lip. He’ll make a few phone calls to call in late and re arrange some plans so he can have you for a little while longer…

Dieter bravo: this man can already barely keep his hand off you so the second he sees you in something that’s his, he’s tackling you to the nearest bed/couch, looking at you with excited and hungry eyes, mumbling about how much better his clothes look on you but he’d prefer none at all.

Tim Rockford: he catches you wearing his shoulder holster in the mirror at home , and stops in his tracks, taking a couple steps back to leer through the door and admire how it looks on you. He will stare for hours until you’ve walked up to him and tapped him in the shoulder, snapping him out of his daydream with a bright blush on his face as you chuckle to yourself.

Dio morrissey: if you wear any of his necklaces/ leather jackets he’ll go feral. He thinks it’s the hottest thing ever and will pin you to the bed, trailing kisses along your neck and chest whispering curses under his breath as he progressively gets more and more hot and bothered.

————————————————————————————

A/n: sorry I haven’t posted any fics recently, I have had a flare up in my back and it’s thrown me off a bit, I’m working on a request that should be out soon hopefully and just a thank you to everyone as well :)

[ghostlyaerobics1984]

Please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface. I want to be in the sequel.

Summary: Being Tara’s boyfriend is no easy feat when the “Ghostface” killer from Woodsboro resurfaces in New York. Reader has a personality similar to Stu Macher.

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Male!Reader

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: Heavily implied sexual content. Depictions of stabbing/kidnapping.

“Damn, Tara. Your sister is HOT.”

You had a red solo cup in your hand, which used to be filled to the brim with alcohol, and you’ve might’ve been moderately drunk.

You were crowding Sam and some creep that had laid his hands on Tara and tried to drag her up to his room by force with the full intention of having sex with her.

Like, WHAT THE FUCK? You and Tara were open about your relationship; The two of you couldn’t be seen without the other hanging off their arm.

How could one lack a moral compass that bad to be dragging someone else’s woman into bed with them? No one can expect a man with the coined nickname “Frankie” to be smart, and that was the PG version.

You have been intoxicated out of your mind and you were in no shape or form to be fighting dudes reeking of testosterone, and later, you were going to be pissed off that Chad and Sam had to fight your own battles for you.

It was a good thing Sam showed up to the party when she did. Frankie got what he had coming to him—A good ass whooping, aka, tased in the balls.

It was hot when Sam’s boundless, protective, older sister nature was uncovered. That’s why you declared your admiration for the whole party to hear.

It’s also the primary reason she was the one person you and Tara did not flaunt your relationship to.

Imagine what would happen if Sam Carpenter found out you were dating her younger sister? She was hellbent on keeping Tara safe for every day of her life.

So yeah, your intimate relationship has been kept under wraps from her to spare Tara’s sanity and for your best interest.

Tara’s friends didn’t know either, only Mindy and Anika because their gay radar was too strong and they were smart women, picking up on various hints that you and Tara dropped. Okay, technically, it was not an exclusive relationship.

Though, you had a sneaking suspicion Chad knew. There was a time when he would be seen attached to Tara’s side and making her laugh, but weirdly, he’s been keeping his distance and directing his attention to his roommate, Ethan.

He still made her laugh, and so did the rest of her friends. It would be mean if you took that away from him.

Tara thumped your arm, causing you to wince and mumble an ‘ouch’. She wielded so much strength despite her small body size. “I’m your girlfriend, asshole. Don’t take her side.”

You faked an offended gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “I wasn’t taking her side. I was merely making a suggestive comment on the situation.”

Tara rolled her eyes; Your stupidity went in one ear and out the other. “What are you doing here? I cannot believe you followed me.” She was talking—more like yelling—to Sam.

Your girlfriend, being a defiant young adult, was too agitated to listen to her sister’s explanation and favored dramatic exits.

You were the obedient, caring partner and supported your lover in her many tantrums; hence, you pursued Tara outside as she marched on the street to blow off steam.

Sam blew past you like a blur of wind, hot on her sister’s heels. “Will you stop?!” She demanded.

It wasn’t said rudely. It was a desperate, I-need-to-talk-to-you kind of demand.

Tara did stop, but then she launched into a rant about how Sam’s constant, overbearing supervision was suffocating and prevented her from achieving the future she desired.

You strayed a few feet apart from both of them, watching the back of Sam’s head, because it was best to let the sisters resolve the conflict themselves.

Your girlfriend had this terrible habit of locking away her emotions until they festered and exploded in her face.

Sam fell prey to Tara’s angry outbursts 99.9% of the time. Of course, you weren't immune from the angst either just because the two of you were dating, but on the several occurrences it happened, it was misdirected.

The same applied to her friends. If they expressed any semblance of concern for Tara’s safety, she would berate them, whether that be in public or in private.

She did need to see a therapist, not just about her feelings and impulsivity, but about the post-traumatic stress disorder she cultivated because she was a victim of fucked up killings in Woodsboro.

Yes, you knew. The internet was at the entire world's fingertips and made it extremely tough for you to dodge the information acquired by social media.

You had tried to offer a referral to your therapist, but Tara just refused without considering it.

You felt a presence by your side and watched in your peripheral vision as Chad, Ethan, Mindy, and Anika assembled in a horizontal line next to you and listened to the argument.

“I have been going out with—!” Your eyes expanded to the size of golf balls at the slip-up. Tara stopped mid-sentence, her eyes flicking over to yours nervously.

“You’re dating? Who?” Sam looked around, apprehensive, and urged Tara to confess who her suitor was.

You shook your head in a silent no, and Tara was quick to cover her mistake. “No one! I'm not dating anyone.” She resumed her indignant tone, “Because you won’t let me go."

This was not how you envisioned Sam finding out, blurting out secrets during fights was the absolute worst way to reveal information.

If Sam just caught her sister in a lie, she didn't mention or show it. She was annoyed, but not more than usual. “Tara, If you want to date, you can. I never took that choice away from you. You know my rule, don't sleep with assholes."

“And I'm not! I haven't.” Tara exclaimed. “I never gave that douchebag permission to take me upstairs. I can't believe you think so low of me.”

Sam’s voice raised to the same pitch as Tara’s, which was a striking contrast from her previous, calm demeanor. “If you want to be a crazy party girl, then that's what I'm going to think you are.”

She was losing her patience, it was being stretched thin like a rubber band.

Tara scoffed and called her sister a hypocrite, then mentioned something about letting go.

Both sisters sounded like they were holding back tears, they went back and forth, and the argument was soon tired out.

There was a long night ahead of you.

“I'm sorry about your shirt.” You were apologetic as you leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Sam scrubbed aggressively at the fabric, which had been stained with Cherry Coke or some other beverage.

“Not your fault.” Sam gave you tight-lipped smile in return, it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She pulled her shirt over her head and tugged it off. You ogled her for a second too long, drummed your fingers against the counter, and left the kitchen area to see your girlfriend since her sister wasn't much of a conversation starter.

“I'm sorry for telling Sam about the party.” Quinn was standing in Tara’s room when you came in. “It's just–she was really upset, and I couldn't help my mouth.”

“It's fine, really.” Tara had a disingenuous smile on her face. It bothered her more than she let on. “She’s all on my ass, like usual.”

Quinn eyed you like a vulture would a carcass when you stepped into her field of view and sat down. “Who is this cutie?”

“Y/n is a friend.” The lie rolled off Tara’s tongue easily. Guess she didn't trust Quinn enough to not blab to Sam about your relationship with her.

“Friend, huh?” Quinn didn't seem like she believed it. She slow-walked to the door. “Okay, Tara’s cute friend. If you ever find yourself pent up from lust and wanting a release, I’m a room away.” She sent a wink in your direction and stalked off.

You turned to Tara once Quinn was out of earshot, blinking in shock. “What the hell was that?”

Tara joined you on the bed. “That was Quinn.” A small, amused smile tugged on her lips. “She’s my ‘sex-positive’ roommate.”

“Huh.” You remarked with zero substance to the conversation. “I could picture that.”

It took Tara a minute to catch on, and she whacked your shoulder in faux annoyance. “Gross! It’s not like that, perv. Get that image out of your mind.”

You laughed, grinning at her aghast expression as you stuck your tongue out. “I’m just playing, baby.”

Tara huffed an exaggerated, annoyed sigh, and repositioned her legs so that she was turned to you. “I know you are, dumbass.”

The mattress dipped as you scooted closer and patted Tara’s thigh, still having that goofy grin plastered on your face. “I want to go out there and get drunk with Chad.”

You were ridiculous, talking about drinking again when barely even sober from the alcohol consumed at the party.

“Or…” Tara dragged out the ‘r’ syllable, leaning forward. “You bring a beer in here and I’ll sit on your face.” She smirked, an eyebrow raised as if she was daring you to refuse.

“Sold.” That was the fastest you ever hustled, power walking—because running in an apartment was crass unless absolutely necessary—from Tara’s room to the living area.

Pilfering two beers from Chad’s hands, you made a beeline to her room. Tara was suppressing a laugh when you returned, you did not waste time, and it was painfully obvious. “Close the door.”

You did as she said before the sentence was finished. Tara was calm and collected, but a closer look at her face said otherwise, more specifically, the anticipatory gleam in her eyes. She was as desperate as you.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and slinked down, your butt finding a seat on her lap. "No more demands."

The beers were held in one hand by the neck of the bottle, and you set them aside because it was inconvenient for your hands.

The bottles lay sideways on the bed, temporarily forgotten.

"None?" Tara feigned disappointment, her gaze following your tongue while you licked your lips.

"No more." You confirmed in a light whisper.

Your lips brushed against hers, not quite touching them because you wanted to keep your girlfriend on her toes.

Tara barely reached the average height, and your current position made it difficult for her to be comfortable.

She squirmed under you, "I said I was going to sit on your face, y/n. I didn't mean you on my lap." You smiled at her halfhearted complaint.

"I thought you planned to get drunk?" She playfully mocked your words from a few minutes ago, now that you had changed your mind.

"Nah. I don't need it because you intoxicate me." Before she could reply to your less-than-remarkable pick-up line, albeit in a judgmental way, you closed the distance and kissed her.

It was a gentle, short, and sweet kiss. Tara wore cherry-flavored lip gloss; the taste of it lingered on your tongue, and her hand found your cheek.

You had a daydream-like appearance when she disconnected her lips from yours, sporting a warm, lazy smile and dilated pupils.

“You’re so cute.” Tara couldn't help but copy your smile, she still looked as composed as ever. “Now get in position before Sam becomes suspicious and invades the privacy of my room.”

“Aye Aye, Captain.” You crawled to the other end of the bed, grabbed one of the beer bottles, and sat against the headboard.

You twisted the cap off and took a swig, a satisfied “Ahh,” leaving your mouth.

Tara observed all this with a roll of her eyes and crawled to you, picking up her beer. “Dork.” She swung her legs around both sides of your arms and sat on your chest.

When both of you were done drinking, you reached over and set the bottles on the nightstand, looking back at Tara with hungry eyes. You asked, “Ready?”

“Hey, T. I think I left my phone— Oh my god!” Quinn covered her eyes with her hand after waltzing into Tara’s room.

Soft moans filled the room along with other lewd sounds, both of you were too preoccupied to hear the door opening, and Quinn’s disgust went unnoticed.

“I’ll come back later!” She shut the door and scurried away. Mumbling under her breath, “Friends, my ass.”

You and Tara freshened up after having the ride of your lives in the bedroom. Tara orgasmed on your tongue, and she didn't want you to leave unsatisfied so she returned the favor, which led to you outstaying your welcome.

Not a drop of mess spilled on her sheets because if she had to clean them, Sam would have immediately found out about you two.

Tara lit a scented candle to rid the smell of sex from her room, and you helped her reorganize the bed.

Mostly everyone was chilling on the couch watching television when Tara walked you out to the living room, your hands intertwined with hers.

“I had a great night.” You said with a big grin while standing outside the apartment door.

It was late, and it was time for you to go home. “Minus the argument you had with your sister, but the party was pretty fun.”

Tara nodded, her face soured a little when Sam was mentioned, and the door was being propped open by her arm. “It was fun.”

“See you soon?” You were already excited at the thought of seeing your girlfriend again and you hadn't even left her place yet.

Tara crossed one leg in front of the other, and a light blush formed on her cheeks. “See you soon.” She affirmed.

She waved as the door was closed in your face. You walked away with a skip in your steps, happily humming the tune to a song you liked.

Unknown to both of you, it would be a while before you saw each other again.

You were at work when your phone chimed with a text alert from Tara. “Hanging out with my sister, Mindy, her girlfriend, and Chad. Wanna come over? I'm losing my mind.”

You smiled at the message, already imagining the group having fun and laughing. You typed back a response, “Wish I could. I am busy with work.”

“It’s cool.” She might’ve said it was cool, but you knew she was upset you couldn’t make it.

Another text alert and Tara had sent you a message. “Chad just nicknamed us the Core Four. Kill me now.”

“That is not happening.” You chastised her over text, laughing quietly to yourself because you could tell how annoyed she was.

Your phone was tucked inside your pants pocket and you opened the door to your place of work, walking inside.

That was the only conversation you had with her on the day following the party. Work was exhausting, you were scheduled for 9-hour shifts a few days a week and you often fell asleep straight after arriving in your dorm.

You had been stuck with a closing shift again, which was why you were spending your time at work instead of sleeping in or making out with your girlfriend.

Speaking of, you really would've liked to be with her. You haven't seen her for only two days, but it felt like an eternity.

A phone rang. It was yours, you dug it out of your pocket and pressed the answer button. Tara was calling. “Babe, hey. How are you?”

“Quinn and Anika were killed.” Tara’s voice was frail over the phone as she informed you about her friends’ deaths.

Your heart relocated to the pit of your stomach, and you immediately dropped what you were doing to comfort her. “I am so sorry. What the fuck happened?”

“Ghostface. He's back. She’s back, whoever the fuck it is.” Her words were sharp enough to cut through the phone.

You had stepped out where there was less noise, and so you could take a break. “It's going to be okay, alright?”

You glanced around the outside of your workplace, the only person there was a coworker dumping trash into the dumpster.

Tara sniffled. “A professor was killed by someone I knew, and he died too. It was on the news after you left our place.”

“I know. I caught the news before I went to bed. It’s unfortunate.” You never knew Jason well enough to care about him, only knowing him as the guy Tara hung out with too often, but it was alarming to learn there was a pattern of serial murders forming.

Someone was talking to her, but it was indiscernible on your end. “Mindy wants to know where you were last night while the murders and shit were taking place.”

You paused, feeling uneasiness wash over your body like a blanket. “I was working, babe.”

“For that long?” Tara sounded skeptical, and as a result of your stubborn attitude, you started to become defensive.

“Yes,” You slouched against the wall adjacent to the back door while pinching the bridge of your nose. “I'm the designated closer and I'm closing again tonight, working the morning shift right now.”

“Alright.” Tara wasn't as engaged in the conversation as she usually would be. She was dismissive and full of doubt about you.

“Y/n? Are you there?” You were deep in thought. Your mind ran a mile a minute as you panicked on the inside.

It wasn’t because Tara was skeptical of you, but because you were assessing the reality of the Ghostface killings.

“I don't think we should be together right now.” It was abrupt, both of you were surprised at your request.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Just until all this blows over.” You knew it was in poor taste and timing, but the possibility of being hunted and killed because you were in a relationship with Tara was far more gut-wrenching.

“Your friends were attacked and that means I’m next.”

“Look,” Tara’s voice turned exasperated as she attempted to sway your fear, “Whoever it is, has to be close to one of us. If we end our relationship, it will not work because they’re already gunning for you and me.”

“What if there's a chance it could work, though?” It was a stupid question—Deep down, you knew she was right.

Tara stated with utmost sincerity, “Y/n, I need you. I can't do this without you.”

You heard the trembling in her voice and your eyes felt misty, but you had to stay strong. “I know you do. This is what's best for us, though. I don't want to put my life at risk.”

“I'm risking mine as we speak, y/n.” Tara was growing frustrated with you. “Mindy—stop.”

“No! Stop! I'm not giving you my ph—” There were shouts of protest from Tara and what sounded like the phone exchanging hands by force.

“Hello?” You cringed, having to pull the phone away because Tara and Mindy were shouting in your ear.

“Y/n,” It was Mindy who answered you. “Terrible idea. I just asked where you were as a formality! You should stick with your girl or you'll regret it when your insides are—”

It sounded like Mindy was swatting away Tara as the latter demanded her phone back.

“Mindy, what are you even saying??” Sometimes, she could be a terrifying scary movie geek.

“One of the most important rules of horror moves: Splitting up is no bueno,” Mindy stressed every word to ensure you understood her point. “Tara—No!”

There was some fussing, and Tara returned to speak to you. She had wrangled her phone back. “Is there anything I can say or do to change your mind?”

You considered her question, biting the inside of your cheek. “No...” Your response was uncertain.

Your stomach churned, even it was sending signals that this was a bad idea, but your mind had been set... somewhat, anyway.

“I feared this was going to happen.” A heavy, dissatisfied sigh from your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. “I guess this is goodbye, y/n.”

She was about to end the call, but you begged her to wait. “I thought you would fight me more on this.”

“What more can I say? It's your decision.” Her tone implied that she was not in the mood for a discussion anymore. “No one wants to stay when my sister and I have a huge target on our backs. I get it.”

Tara was still there, your Tara, the one you had grown to love. She was dealing with a lot right now.

You could hear your boss yelling at a coworker and asking about your whereabouts from inside your workplace; you needed to conclude this call fast.

“Tara.” You processed her words before you said anything irrational.

“When it gets out that I am innocent,”—enunciating the word ‘when’—I want you to know that I love you, I would never hurt you, and I hope this Ghostface bastard rots.”

Your phone beeped once, indicating that Tara hung up on you.

You scoffed in disbelief, staring in shock at the black screen in your hand.

She didn't say it back.

You headed back inside to do your job before your boss popped a blood vessel and triggered an aneurysm. Working would help distract your mind from the heartbreak that was settling in.

It was 10:30 P.M. and, like you said, you were closing tonight. It was just you, by yourself, in the dimly lit deli.

A detective with a full head of gray hair had stopped by earlier to interrogate you about your alibi and whereabouts during the time window of Jason Carver’s murder and the double homicide of Quinn and Anika.

He didn't say it outright, but you guessed that he was Quinn’s father because he had trouble saying her name without choking.

You were honestly perplexed that he hadn't been removed from the case due to a conflict of interest, but it was easier to answer him and move on.

You were in the back running deli meats through the company-bought slicer in preparation for tomorrow.

The whirring of machinery and the dicing of thick meats were the only sounds that occurred in the building, otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

You were just coming back from a bathroom break, whistling, when you were greeted by an uninvited guest.

Well, it took you embarrassingly long to notice the figure clad in a Ghostface mask and black cloak until you had turned around to investigate a noise, and there they appeared, armed with a knife, ready to kill.

It was a real-life jump scare. Your heart skipped a beat and your soul felt like it evaporated from your body as you screamed so loud, it was deafening.

Ghostface jabbed the knife at you, and you dodged, the knife cutting through the air where your head just was.

The space you were in was small, not fit for running or a two-person scuffle. All you could do was duck and avoid their attacks because you were cornered by this masked killer.

One thing led to another and you were pinned down on the counter, being slid toward the machinery you had just used to slice meats, the rotary blade was menacing as it neared you.

You struggled and released aggravated grunts. In a frenzy, you nailed Ghostface in the groin with an unsynchronized kick.

The cloaked figure sunk to their knees. A groan sounded suspiciously like a male’s, and it did not come from you.

Panting from exertion, you bent your knees to get a closer look while squinting your eyes. “Ethan?”

That name triggered something in the masked assailant, and they lunged at you with surprising momentum.

You were trapped on the counter once more, his grip was unforgiving on your wrist.

The palm of your hand lay flat on the surface, facing upwards. Ghostface stabbed the blade through your palm and the tip of it embedded in the counter, a guttural cry ripped from your throat.

Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you were weeping incoherently.

There was only one person you couldn't stop thinking of. “Please, I want to see Tara again. We have so much to talk about, I can’t leave her like this—Shit!”

You sunk your teeth in your lip as Ghostface ripped the knife from your hand and put an end to your mindless rambling.

You craved a distraction from the pain.

Ghostface leered over you, tilting his head, the screaming mask was especially daunting when you were his next victim.

He lifted the knife stained with crimson, and you screamed for the umpteenth time that night, your throat was becoming raw. “No, no, no!” The weapon was brought down in one swift, stabbing motion.

Outside, sirens blared, cars revved on the street, and the city bustled with life, but your cries of terror went unheard in the darkness of the night.

It was a new day and the weather was fine. Tara hadn't been in contact with you since you suggested a breakup.

She hadn't been in contact with you since you said those three words, and she didn't say them back. Still hasn't.

Tara didn't know what she was waiting for. You loved her irrevocably, and she knew that.

She had always known, starting from the time you guys shared a first kiss and when you gathered the courage to ask her out.

God, she missed you.

Everything you did and said swept her off her feet and into your arms. She wasn't being exactly fair to you. You were right to be frightened about her past, she didn't know why it hurt so much though.

Tara and her sister turned a corner, coming into full view of your place of work—Marceli’s Deli—but something was wrong, police cars and news reporters surrounded the building, and dispatch could be heard faintly over the radio.

Detective Bailey was on the scene, looking forlorn. The two women rushed to him.

Tara blurted out a string of questions before he received a proper greeting. “What happened?! Is y/n okay?”

“Oh,” Detective Bailey winced, lips tugging back in a grimace. “I'm afraid I have some bad news.”

Tara’s devastated expression hardened into an impassive one. “What? Is Y/n in there?”

She strained her neck to get a peek at the damage done, but Sam prevented her from sprinting inside.

Bailey raised his hands to his chest and pushed downwards, imitating a gesture that meant calm down. “Y/n has gone missing; The forensics team hasn't found a body, or... remnants of one.”

He glanced away from the Carpenter sisters, an offhand look in his eyes as he waved an officer over. “If you ladies will excuse me, this is an active crime scene, and I have unfinished work to do.”

Tara scoffed, then gasped like she couldn't believe what she just heard. Sam ushered her sister from the chaotic scene, softly murmuring, “We should go.”

“Sam! Tara!” Oh, they recognized that voice, it belonged to the shallow, selfish, self-serving liar herself, Gale Weathers.

And she swarmed into their personal space without reading the room or caring for Tara’s distraught demeanor. “How do you feel now that Ghostface has followed you to the Big Apple?”

Gale spoke into a microphone while someone filmed behind her. “Care to comment on the recent murders?”

“No. Leave us alone.” Sam said through gritted teeth. She was okay before Gale Weathers showed, but now she was aggravated.

Gale was annoyingly persistent, following after the two women when they tried to leave, and spouting an overwhelming plethora of questions.

Sam had enough. She spun on her heels, and with a roll of her eyes, threw a punch in Gale’s direction. The targeted newswoman anticipated that it was coming, and swerved.

“Nice try, sweetie,” Gale smirked, her voice amplified because of the microphone. “But I've been through this dance before—Oh!”

Tara’s fist struck her in the cheek and made Gale swivel. Tara leaned forward, threatening, “Stay away from us.”

Gale stood, dumbfounded, pressing a hand to where she'd been hit.

Sam was resting against a wall with her arms crossed once she found a secluded area for a genuine talk with Tara. “Is everything okay?”

Tara had been twisting her hands and gnawing on her lip, which were all signs that pointed to extreme anxiety and worry. “We were dating. Me and y/n.”

It came out like word vomit. Sam was surprised Tara confessed information about her private life without the usual opposition.

She blinked and straightened her posture, curiosity peaked. “Oh, Tara. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because you're—” Tara was going to say something mean, but she stopped herself, her voice trailing off. “You.”

Sam listened to her younger sister with a glimmer of guilt in her eyes, and Tara despised that look, like she was a wounded puppy Sam had just run over.

She eyed Sam before finding solace in the ground and absentmindedly rubbing at her sore knuckles. “But Y/n has gone missing, or might not even be alive, and it's all my fault.”

Sam frowned and wrestled with a thought. “Is it possible—”

“Don’t.” Tara shut down the question before Sam could complete it, because if it was voiced aloud—there was a chance it could be true.

And she didn't want it to be true.

Sam nodded and held her tongue; her lips were set in a straight line. She didn't want to upset her sister further. “Okay.”

“It's not over.” Sam shuffled over to Tara, their shoulders almost touching as they both leaned on the building. “We're going to find Y/n and kick the asses of whoever is accountable for hurting all of us.”

“Promise?” Tara half-smiled at her sister.

She wouldn't be wholly content until you were in her arms again, but knowing she had Sam by her side, that made her feel better.

“Swear on it.” Sam held out her pinky, her tone was sweet, but her face expressed a certain maliciousness.

In agreement, Tara hooked their pinkies together. She just missed one vital piece that would make her life almost okay again... you.

A lot has happened. Gale Weathers had been stabbed, Mindy was stuck with Ethan on a train and she was falling behind, and Tara was spiraling into depression because you remained missing.

Prior to Gale’s attempted murder, the reporter had found an abandoned, secret hideout with Ghostface graffiti scattered on the outside and guided Sam and Tara to it—everyone else followed along—as an apology for being a conceited bitch.

It kinda worked. Tara felt a little remorseful, but she deserved that punch.

Turns out the inside was even more of a freak show, occupied with Ghostface collections and a fucking shrine of mannequins wearing cloaks and wielding the knives of past killers, only all the masks were missing.

Tara did not like it here. The place gave her the creeps equivalent to a thousand bugs crawling down her back.

She hoped that you would show up out of the blue, in good health, with a smile on your face, saying something like, “I'm sorry I ran away,” and tease her like you always did by being your goofy self.

But with every passing moment that specific scenario didn't happen, the likelihood of you being alive became less likely, and her heart grew heavy.

Tara didn't want to admit it, because then your disappearance would become a reality, but her hopes were diminishing.

Sam was also going through her own internal turmoil; Tara has seen the way her sister looked at Billy Loomis’s display when she assumed no one was watching.

“What are you doing?” Tara didn't mean to spook Sam. Her eyes gleamed, not out of fear, but because she was concerned.

“Yo, Tara!” Chad had cupped his hands over his mouth to shout and was beckoning for her to walk with him.

Tara glanced over at Chad and back at her speechless sister, who was struggling to form a sentence, her gaze sympathetic.

She turned away to follow Chad.

“Who uses this place anymore? It's so old,” Tara remarked while smirking.

She stood at a dusty concession counter with Chad. He smiled at her comment and shifted closer to her.

He reached for an old box of candy at the same time she did, and their fingers brushed.

Tara flushed from embarrassment. “Oh, you can have it.”

Chad withdrew his arm, grinning sheepishly. “I'm sorry. You can have it.”

“No, you can take them.” Tara insisted, her smile fading while handing the box of chocolate to him.

But Chad just wouldn't get the hint. “No, you wanted them...” He tossed the candy down on the counter. “You take it.”

“I don't want them. They're a hundred years old. I actually—What are you doing?” Chad had tried to kiss her, but Tara pushed him back.

“Kissing... You?” He arched a brow in confusion, sounding unsure of himself.

“I'm dating Y/n. I was. We broke up.” She rambled, using her inhaler before she was sent into a panic attack. “It's complicated.”

Chad wasn't unattractive in the slightest. He had a buff build, muscles, and a soft heart underneath the tough jock exterior.

Sometimes he said things that made him seem brainless, but terrible timing aside, she didn't see him like that—more than as a friend.

Even if you were out of the picture, which was a thought she couldn't stomach, her relationship with you was still fresh. She didn't want to date anyone else.

Chad was quiet, and all Tara wanted to do was drown herself in the silence.

Sam lingered away from the Ghostface mannequins, and stepping down the stage, she called out, “Tara? Chad? Kirby?”

She was alone, in the room by herself. They had dispersed to different areas of the theatre and left her.

Tara and Chad stood beside each other with their backs turned to the counter, seeking comfort in the other’s presence.

“I'm stupid, aren't I?” Chad had a pained smile on his face. He was trying to make the situation less awkward by joking.

Tara couldn't help the small, amused smile that tugged on her lips, partially serious as she answered him. “A little bit.”

Dejectedly, he hung his head and blew a puff of air. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tara shook her head, “You're going to be fine.” She corrected herself, “We are,” and playfully nudged Chad.

Sam slowly crept toward the corridor, her ears picking up on muffled thumping sounds that resembled rats running through pipes.

Chad and Tara kept talking in the other room while Sam was investigating the noise. “I think you're beautiful, Tara. You're strong and I like women who can throw a punch.”

Trailing her hand along the walls, Sam had Billy Loomis’s knife out at the ready, on extremely high alert as she neared the source.

“I can't be with you, not now, probably not ever” Tara replied curtly.

He wouldn't drop the subject and it made her uncomfortable. “Maybe if you told me before I met y/n, then it would be different.”

Bingo. Sam’s hand found a small handle in the paneling. She pushed, then pulled and it gave away, revealing a thin, hidden compartment.

“The thing is, I didn't realize how much I wanted you until I saw you with someone else,” Chad admitted, taking a tentative peek at her.

He was speaking from the bottom of his heart, but still, Tara didn't love him like she loved you.

It was dark, but Sam could see the silhouette of a person and glistening eyes. “Y/n.” she breathed softly; her heart broke at the condition you were in.

There you were. Alive, held captive but not dead.

She flipped the knife so the blade was facing the floor, and crouched down.

“Tara is here with me. We're going to get you out of here, okay?” She fumbled with the duct tape on your wrists, glancing at your tear-stricken face. “She'll be so, so happy to see you.”

Your eyes brightened, but what you were attempting to say was unintelligible because your mouth was duct-taped as well.

You were happy though, that much Sam could tell.

A scream echoed in the corridor. It was Tara’s.

Sam’s eyes snapped to yours and reluctance showed on her features. She began to pull away, even though she was not finished setting you free.

“Sam.�� You looked at her expectantly.

She was reminded of that time in Woodsboro when Tara was locked in that closet and she had to decide whether or not she should set her sister free.

Guilt tugged on Sam’s heart, but she stood up anyway. “Wait here. I'll be back, I promise.”

You began to shout muffled objections. The secret door was shut back in place, leaving you to stew in your thoughts and emotions once more.

Sam went to find her sister, but she didn't have to go far because Tara ran into her, hyperventilating. “They got Chad! They got him! Two of them.”

Sam gripped Tara’s arms and waited until she calmed down to tell her what she'd discovered. “I found Y/n!”

“What? Where is he?” Tara attempted to search for you, but Sam kept her still.

“Not now. He's safe.” Sam brushed back a strand of hair from her sister’s eyes, moving her hands to hold both sides of her face. “Hey, let’s finish this okay? Then we can go home.”

Tara nodded and allowed Sam to guide her to the room where the mannequins and Ghostface memorabilia were.

It was time for Act 3.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes morphed into hours. You were just sitting there, waiting, in the cramped space when the door slid open again.

Sam stared down at you, sporting a familiar, black cloak that you had witnessed Ghostface wearing. “Did you see who took you?”

A slow nod from you.

Was it Ethan or Quinn?” She was digging for information about the culprit of your kidnapping; you shook your head at both of the names mentioned.

“Detective Bailey. Old cop guy with grey hair.” Your confused expression shifted into a knowing one.

Sam smirked, an evil glint in her eyes. “Be right back.”

She slid the door closed; you were enclosed in the secret compartment again.

Sam tore the mask off her face and let it sit on her head. She turned out of the center stage, walked through the projector curtains, and joined Tara on the steps.

“Thank you for letting me go.” Tara’s face was stained with black splotches, and she looked the same as Sam did—A total mess.

They had just finished killing a family–Richie’s family, in fact. Quinn, Ethan, and fucking Detective Bailey were all relatives of his.

Detective Bailey was the only one left alive for their final act. It was a team effort; Tara called him over the phone pretending to be Ghostface.

Sam wore the costume, stealthily approached that dipshit, and stabbed him until he couldn't scream anymore.

Of course, she did stab him in the eye as a preventative measure. He deserved a worse fate than death, but he also didn't deserve a second chance to torment her family. Yes, that included you too.

Sam smiled, and this one did reach her eyes, resting her head on her arm. “I knew you could take care of yourself.”

Tara’s smile faltered and her gaze dropped to her shoes.

“I want to be in your life though,” Sam added after a beat of silence. Tara made eye contact with her sister, her expression softening. “But only as much as you want me to.”

“I want you to be in my life.” Tara declared with complete honesty, squashing Sam’s doubts. “And y/n, Mindy,” Her voice wavered at the next name, “Chad.”

Sam reached over and placed a hand on Tara’s knee. She was sympathetic to her sister’s feelings.

They both have dealt with this specific trauma two times, too many.

Tara chuckled and a wide grin formed on her face. Sam giggled with her, just glad to laugh after the day they had.

A loud bang! and a clatter startled the sisters, causing them to jump up apprehensively.

You stumbled into the room with a bruised eye, and a bleeding cut above the eyebrow of your other eye. Your face was roughed up as if you had been in a horrible fistfight.

There was a long and wide, jagged, exposed gash that went across your nose, under your left eye and stopped at your earlobe.

Your feet were taped together and the tape on your hands had been cut.

“You still don't understand, Tara!” Ethan screamed, veins exuded out of his neck and his eyes bulged. “In the sequel, the perfect boyfriend died.”

“Quinn.” Detective Bailey demanded. “Go fetch, y/n. We have a crime scene to stage.”

“On it!” Quinn strode past the sisters and turned into the corridor that led to the other rooms of the theatre, disappearing from view.

Sam looked up through hooded eyes into the soulless ones of Detective Bailey. “Wow. You and Richie have similar plans.”

He was aiming a gun at her and tilted his head, confusion etched on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Your son took my sister hostage.” There was a faux sweetness behind her tone. Sam was taunting him. “He tried to convince me that Tara was the killer, but guess what? I untied her.”

As if on cue, Quinn exclaimed, “Uh, I can't find him!”

Detective Bailey’s voice boomed as he shouted back, “He can't have gotten far!”

Some things were tossed and slammed around in her search for you. A sharp ‘thwack’ sounded and Quinn cried out.

“I let him go,” Sam smirked.

Tara ran and wrapped her arms around you in a bone-crushing hug, nearly knocking you off your feet, a choked sob escaped from her.

Pulling away to inspect you, she reached out and peeled the tape from your lips. “Tara.” You croaked.

Your throat felt like sandpaper due to a lack of water and food, and your lips were cracked.

“Y/n,” Tara mumbled softly, tears welling up in her eyes. She brought her hand around the nape of your neck and drew you in for a kiss.

You succumbed to the warm sensation of her lips on yours and deepened the kiss. The suffering you had endured was washing away now that your girl was in your arms.

Tara had that power; she always knew how to make your pain forgettable when you were with her.

You parted for air, already missing her lips on yours.

You also had something really important to say and it couldn't wait, “Tara, I want to undo the breakup.”

Tara beamed at you and grinned ear-to-ear. Teasingly, she asked, “We broke up?”

Her face glowed with a certain happiness that was only expressed in your presence.

You rolled your eyes, and the small smile on your lips made it obvious that you were humoring her. “Come here.”

You lured her in for a second kiss and your lips nearly connected with hers, but a loud, animalistic growl forced you and Tara to spring apart in fear.

Ethan Landry was still alive. He had a bloody maw and roared like a beast, rushing, aiming for all three of you with a knife raised.

It was so unexpected and too fast for any of you to formulate a defensive strategy. You, Sam, and Tara could only gape at Ethan’s grotesque appearance.

Something creaked, and in the blink of an eye, the tv that killed Stu Macher tipped over and claimed Ethan Landry as its new victim.

Kirby popped out from behind the display where the TV used to be. Like the rest of you survivors, she was in terrible shape.

She smiled, “Saw that in a scary movie once.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and pulled Tara close to you, a smile returning to your face.

Sam moved closer to you and Tara, looking proud of you two. She placed her hand on your back, between your shoulder blades, and gave you a one-armed hug.

You leaned into her embrace and rested your chin on her shoulder. It was nice of her to do that, and you felt like crying because, from the moment you started dating Tara, you hoped to bond with her sister.

Sam didn't let you go right away; she was dragging out the hug for as long as possible, and it's what you needed. “How would you feel about going out on a double date? You and Tara, Me and Danny—my neighbor—who I've been seeing.”

Her voice was smooth and inviting, even if you considered saying no, it would've been hard to refuse. “I'd love that, Sam.”

She broke off the hug to gauge whether you were being serious or otherwise. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” You had a grin on your face.

“Already talking about me behind my back?” Tara chimed in, staring at you with an eyebrow raised, and suppressing a smile.

“Aww, is my lovebug feeling lonely?” You did a silly, comical impression with your voice and pulled her flush to your hip, tenderly squeezing her shoulder.

“I can't stand you.” You and Sam laughed together at Tara’s empty insult.

Tara protested and elbowed you in the ribs, but soon, she was laughing as well.

“Oh, man.” When the laughter died down, you groaned and touched your forehead, dangerously on the verge of fainting or spilling out your guts. “I need to go to the hospital.”

Two weeks have passed.

Tara strutted through a fitness gym, wearing sunglasses and holding a coffee. All she could hear were misogynistic, sweaty men grunting and using the exercise equipment.

“Come on! Come on!”

Two men were practicing boxing. One man was holding up mitts, acting as a target dummy, and the other was throwing punches.

Tara approached them, removing her glasses. “Y/n.”

You stopped mid-punch, saw who called your name, and disengaged from your boxing stance. “Babe, hey!”

You walked to her with open arms and pulled her into a big, sweaty hug. “We were just finishing up.”

Danny was the man who you were sparring with. He peeled off the gloves and tucked them under his arm, sporting a toothy grin.

“I got you coffee.” Tara offered you the to-go cup when you pulled away.

You took the coffee off her hands. “Oh, sweet. Decaf?”

“Uh huh, only the best for my beau.” She smiled while watching you chug the hot beverage.

“Is Sam ready?” Danny asked, joining you and Tara.

“Yeah,” Tara pointed her thumb at the entrance of the gym. “She’s waiting outside.”

You finished drinking the coffee and lowered the cup in your hands. “How is Chad, by the way?”

Tara perked up when you asked; she seemed excited to talk about him. “He’s recovering pretty fast. It's impressive, according to his doctor. He’ll be out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s good to hear!” You said cheerily with a hint of sarcasm. “I still need to fight him for trying to kiss you.”

Your girlfriend released a small, airy laugh. “As much as I would love to see both of you acting like idiots, fighting is unnecessary. He’s already dealing with my rejection.”

“I imagine that's gotta hurt.” Danny chortled while glancing at you.

“Yeah, imagine.” You smirked, refraining from laughing when Danny gave you a knowing look.

Tara shook her head and she didn't bother to hide her signature eye roll. “I'm hating this... bromance or whatever this is between the two of you.”

You chuckled. Danny pressed his hand to his chest and faked a hurt expression. “Ouch, Sam’s little sis.”

“Speaking of, I wouldn't want to keep Sam waiting.” You slung each of your arms around Danny and Tara and propelled them forward. “Let's go eat!”

Both of them complained while you used their necks as props as you reached the doors to exit, and Tara smacked you until she was freed from your arm.

You met up with Sam, who was standing right outside the gym, and the four of you walked on the sidewalks of New York to a nice, fancy restaurant.

You and Tara were seated together at a table with Sam and Danny, surrounded by great food, jokes, laughter, and a warm ambiance.

You clinked your alcoholic drink against theirs and chatted the night away.

Ghostface? Stab series? They didn't cross your mind once.

[Tags: @jacelion because they are so supportive of my posts <3 ]

[for-a-longlongtime]

III. Danger Zone

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Frankie Morales

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Words: 800 A/N: Well, y'all done it now. I was blown away by all the awesome comments you left on Maverick and No Game At All (But I Can Do This), and ended up writing an entire outline for a ficlet series about these guys. Lots of smut with just enough plot to hold it together. Here is part 3 (thanks for the title @sin-djarin) and there's lots more to cum come. Unbeta-ed. Dividers by @saradika.

< Previous part

“I still can believe this is where you work.” Marcus shakes his head as he follows Frankie to another chopper, still awestruck by being at the  Los Angeles Airforce Base. “Didn’t even know they let civilians in.”

“They don’t, but you’re with me. Figured I owe you for the other day.” Frankie gives him an apologetic smile as he nods at the aircraft. “Wanna check it out?”

“Is that even allowed?”

Frankie looks amused as he climbs in the helicopter, offering Marcus a hand to get in too. “You’re dying to see this but you’re worried about permission? The FBI fucked you up good, huh.”

“I just - I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Marcus tries to not blush, painfully aware of how different they are; Frankie as ex-Delta Force versus himself at the FBI Art Theft department. Different kinds of rules, training, skills. Marcus has never lacked confidence about himself or his profession, but there’s a quiet confidence and competence about Frankie that hits him hard. Even more so here among aircrafts that Marcus has dreamt of since he was a kid.

Frankie doesn’t respond and flicks some switches, then nods at the seat up front. “Go ahead.”

“Shit. Really?” He tries to not sound too giddy as he slides into the pilot chair, breathing in deeply as he looks at all the controls and blinking lights. Shaking his head as he takes it all in, being somewhere he could’ve never imagined himself to be. “This is awesome.”

“Good.” Frankie’s voice is soft, almost as gentle as the hand he rests on Marcus’ shoulder. Before Marcus has time to think about just how close he is, Frankie’s hand moves to his chin, tilting Marcus’ head back just slightly so their eyes meet. 

A smile plays over Frankie’s face as he leans down and kisses him, and Marcus’ mind just goes empty. Senses overloading as he tastes the peppermint on Frankie’s breath, smells his cologne so clearly now, and he wishes they were somewhere private instead of on the base.

When they come up for air, Frankie is smiling as he takes off his cap - revealing even more of those fucking perfect curls -, and puts it on Marcus’ hair. “Hold this for a sec.” He takes a step back as he takes in the sight, those eyes seeming to get even darker. “Looks good on you,” Frankie says, and this time his voice is lower, deeper and almost gravelly.

“Yeah?” Marcus can’t find any further words, especially not when Frankie’s large hand cups him through his pants, strong fingers closing around his cock.

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, then starts to unbuckle Marcus’ belt, calmly undoing his pants as he sinks down to his knees, a slight smile ghosting around his lips. It widens into a grin when he takes out Marcus’ dick, those strong fingers cupping his balls, and Marcus has to fight to not close his eyes by how good it feels. He doesn’t want to miss any of this, of how good Frankie’s tongue looks on his dick, running over the vein underneath and then the head.

“You’ve been hard since the moment you stepped on the base,” Frankie’s voice is quiet but almost shaking, his eyes meeting Marcus’ again. “Saw it. The entire time.” The tip of his tongue slowly swirling over Marcus, licking up the beads of precum. “It’s been driving me fucking crazy.”

“Fuck me,” the words slip from Marcus’ lips as he groans, more in awe than an actual request as he reaches out for Frankie’s curls - oh, they’re so fucking soft, he just has to twirl them around his fingers. 

Frankie hums as he nods, reaching for Marcus’ hand as he slides it to the back of his head. “Oh, you bet I will,” his breath so hot on Marcus’ cock as he flattens his tongue and licks him hard this time. “Later. Gonna suck you off first. You can pull my hair, ‘s good - I like it.” 

With that, he goes down on Marcus, who loses the ability to think right on the spot. There’s only the warm, tight wetness of Frankie’s mouth on him, those curls under his fingers, the smell of diesel and planes all around them, that ridiculously attractive cap of Frankie resting on his head now. 

The soft moans and quiet slurps that make all the hairs on Marcus’ body stand up, and then there’s only the pleasure banging through him, rushing like it’s poured in by the gallon, and he’s crying out Frankie’s name so, so much louder than he should - but he doesn’t even care. Let them find them here, with Frankie on his knees, mouth full of him as he’s jerking himself off - let them find them and be jealous, because they should be.

Main masterlist | < Previous part | Next part Follow @longlongtime-updates for fic updates!

Thank you for reading and supporting, let me know what you think (or if you want to be added to the taglist) in the comments or a reblog! 💜

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[albertasunrise]

Oops Baby - One too Many

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (I am so excited to share this with you. Came up with this idea ages ago, just wasn't sure who to use. Was between Frankie and Marcus Pike... Though our cutie Fish would work best though. Hope you enjoy ♥️)

Series Masterlist -

"What's wrong with me Frankie?" You grumbled as you downed the last of your drink and motioned at the barman to get you another "I mean... Do I have cheat on me written across my forehead?"

"Nothing's wrong with you." He gave you a reassuring nudge and a sweet smile "The guy was just a fucking idiot and couldn't see how good he had it."

"You have to say that." You scoff "You're my best friend."

"No, I mean it." Fish pouted, his eyes growing sad "If I was with you I'd never let you go." His whole body went rigid at his confession and so did yours.

In all the many years you had known each other, Frankie had managed to keep his feelings for you buried. He had watched as you went from relationship to relationship. All of them ended the same way. You cried into his t-shirt as he fed you beers to try and numb the pain.

He coughed in an attempt to dispel the awkward silence that had now settled over you both. His left hand fidgeted in his lap as he grabbed his beer and drained the remainder of it in one large gulp.

"Another!" He said as he motioned at the bartender "Never trusted him you know." He stated as he returned his attention to you.

"No?" You question, your eyebrow quirking at his statement.

"Nah... Guys with eyebrows that well maintained are either cheats or gay." he stated plainly and you spat your beer over the bar "Woah... Mind the shirt."

"Sorry." You choke out as you bash your chest to dry and clear the beer in your throat "You can't say shit like that Francisco."

"What?... It's true."

"No I mean you can't say shit like that whilst I'm taking a sip of my drink!" You chuckled "You nearly killed me."

"You're smiling though, are you?"

"That I am." You agreed, giving him a sweet smile before supping at your beer again.

The two of you moved on to other subjects then. How Will had finally bitten the bullet and created an online dating profile. How Ben was smashing his fights and how Santi was expecting a baby with his wife in Australia.

"Talking of parents... How are mels?" You asked and his expression grew a little sadder at the mention of his, somewhat recently, deceased wife.

"They're doing okay." He replied with a nod "Taking each day as it comes. No parent expects to bury their kid..."

"I bet!" You sighed as you leaned into him and rest your head on his shoulder "I don't know about you... But I think we need more drinks!"

"You going to be okay to get home if you drink much more?"

Ahh sweet Frankie... always the worrier.

"I'll work it out Fishsticks."

"Please don't call me that." He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically before fumbling to catch his hat that had slipped off his head "You can crash at mine if you like?" He propositioned "Seeing as I have the house to myself for the weekend."

"Sounds good." You grinned, perking up immediately "Bartender! More beer please."

...

You weren't sure how you'd got here. One moment you were drinking with Frankie in the bar and the next you were pinned against his front door as he painted your flesh with kisses. His hat and shirt were long discarded and you revelled at his form. Strong arms, broad shoulders and a tiny waist. His tummy was a little softer but you found it endearing and you found your mouth watering as you unfastened his jeans and pushed them, along with his underwear, down his hips.

Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, Francisco Morales... Your best friend of six years... Was naked as the day he was born in front of you. Normally this is where you would start to panic. Yet, you found yourself so wrapped up in the feel of him that you didn’t have time to. You were dragged back to the present when Fish plunged two thick fingers into your heat, pulling a filthy moan from you and you grabbed his biceps firmly as you threw your head back in pleasure.

"What me to fuck you right here or in my bed?" He purred in your ear and you clenched around his digits.

"Start here... Bed later..." Was all you could pant out before you were grabbing his length and stroked it as he roughly fucked you with his fingers "Fuck Frankie... I need you now."

"Mmmmm." He hummed as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you, wrapping them around his waist.

Your arms instinctively looped around his shoulders as he pushed you against the wall beside his front door, mewling as he drove into you in one deep thrust. He was easily the biggest you'd ever had. Filling you so deliciously that you knew after tonight, he was going to ruin all other men for you.

"Fuck you feel incredible." He growled as he pushed into you, finding your sweet spot almost instantly "Just like I imagined."

This statement would, in any other situation, have given you pause but right now as he continued to fuck up into you with a precision you'd not expected from him, you paid it no heed. He was literally fucking you dumb. Pleasuring every thought out of your head except for one.

A revelation that had taken you by surprise.

You sweet, quiet, reserved Francisco had a filthy mouth... And you loved it. You soaked it up. Revelled in his praise and bathed in the warmth that filled you. He was quick to tip you over the edge. Something guys often failed to do without some stimulation but not Frankie... Not he was able to make you cum with just his length and his mouth.

"That's it, baby." He purred when he felt you peak "Cum for me beautiful."

He fucked you through your high, attacking your neck with kisses and nips as he then went about chasing his own. He fucked you like his life depended on it. Focusing his thrusts so that he could wring every last ounce of pleasure from you before he fell.

"Frankie I'm... I'm..."

"I know baby." He cooed "Me too."

"I'm cumming." You sobbed as he pushed you over the edge one last time but this time you pulled him right along with you.

He collapsed against you, panting as he desperately tried to keep himself from collapsing to the ground. You were now a limp mess in his arms, panting and grinning like a fool as you smiled at him.

"Let's get to bed." Fish managed to say after a short pause "I wanna taste you sweetheart." He stated before pushing away from the wall and carrying you down the hall to his room.

It was going to be a long night.

...

Your brain was pounding.

You groaned as you rolled over to grab your phone, only to find it wasn't there. Two Tylenol and a glass of water, however, were waiting for you. Taking the tablets you threw them in your mouth before downing the water, practically groaning in relief. You then started to study your surroundings and realised that you weren't in your bed.

You were in Frankie's.

"What the hell;?" You questioned as you started to push yourself up and then you realised that you were naked.

Completely naked.

Your heart started to race then. Your mind reeled as you tried to remember what happened last night. You had gone for drinks with Frankie after learning your boyfriend of two years had cheated on you. Then things got a little blurry. You tried to focus... Things come back to you in flashes but then you remembered what you had done.

You had fucked Frankie.

"Shit." You groaned as you scraped a hand over your face "Shit, shit, shit!!"

You grabbed one of his shirts from the wardrobe and headed down the hall, the smell of bacon pulling you into the kitchen where Frankie was standing in just some shorts. His hair was a curly mess. His neck was littered with the evidence of what you two had done last night.

Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Frank looked up to see you gingerly walking in in one of his shirts and his mouth went dry at the sight. He smiled sweetly at you as he pushed the bacon off the heat and went to pour you a mug of coffee.

"How you feeling?" He asked as he grabbed the milk and poured it into your mug, nodding when he was satisfied with the colour of your drink.

"Sore." You groaned, nodding your thanks when he handed you the drink he'd made you.

"Mmmmm." He hummed as he smirked at you, the twinkle in his eye making your stomach twist "The good kind of sore or..."

"Frankie-"

"Last night was amazing." He purred as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close "Wanted this for so long."

"Frankie I-"

"Felt too good to tell you how I felt. I've hated watching you with all those other guys."

Your mind was suddenly assaulted with memories. His smile as he told you his deepest secret.

The night before...

"I need to find someone like you Fish." You sighed as you sipped at your beer "Someone sweet and kind that will treat me right."

"What if I could be that someone?" He asked and you perked up, looking at him in confusion.

'What?"

"What if I could be that guy for you?" He repeated, his eyes doing that puppy-dog thing that you found impossible to resist.

You don't know what came over you but as you looked at him. All dark eyes and sweetness. You decided to kiss him. He didn't respond straight away and you panicked for just a second before he was returning it, his hand threading through the hair at the base of your neck as he deepened it.

"Wanna get out of here?" You suggested and he nodded.

"Fuck yes." He practically panted.

The walk back to his place wasn't a quick one. Any opportunity he had, he'd stop you so that he could kiss you. Unable to get enough of you.

"Fuck... I have wanted this for so long." He panted between kisses "Wanted you for so long." Another firm kiss had your knees going weak "I love you..." He whispered against your lips as he rested his brow on yours.

You should have stopped it there. You should have told him that you didn't feel the same... But you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Your body wanted him too much and you were a slave to your desires.

So you didn't say anything.

You just followed him home.

...

You were pulled from the memory by Frankie calling your name.

"Baby you okay?" He asked as he looked down at him in concern, brows pulled together.

"Frankie I... Shit, I don't know how to tell you this." You sighed as you pushed him back "Last night was a mistake."

"What?" He all but squeaked and you felt like the worst person in the world.

"It shouldn’t have happened." You sighed as you ran your free hand through your hair "I was in a bad place and I shouldn't have kissed you. We were both super drunk and it... It was a mistake."

"I told you I love you." Frankie growled, his voice taking on a tone you'd not heard from him before "I confessed to you how I've been feeling all these years and you slept with me."

"I know, but Frankie I-"

"No... You don't know." He interrupted as he turned his back to and gripped the stone countertop in front of him "I have been in love with you for years... probably since the day I met you. I told you last night that I wanted to be the guy you wanted and you kissed me... You led me to believe that you wanted the same thing."

"Frankie I'm sorry I hurt you but-"

"I think you should leave."

"What?"

"Get your shit and leave." He growled and you sobbed.

"Okay." You choked out before putting down your mug and making your way into his lounge.

Your clothes were strewn all over the place. Evidence of what you two had done all over his home. Changing back into the clothes you wore the night before you walked back into the kitchen to find Frankie sitting at the breakfast bar, staring at the new mug of coffee in his hands.

"Frankie I... I'm sorry." You sobbed "I never meant to hurt you I just-"

"Please go."

You nodded. Choking out a barely audible "Okay." Before walking to his front door and leaving. You knew this was your fault. You saw an opportunity to bury your sorrows and you took it. But at the expense of your best friend.

You had royally ruined everything.

...

2 months later...

You hadn't spoken to Frankie since that night.

You had called and texted but he had chosen to ignore your attempts to contact him. If you were being honest, you didn't blame him. You had taken advantage of his feelings for you. You had secretly known for a while that he had feelings for you and a part of you had tried so hard to feel something back but you couldn't. You didn't get why though.

He's hot. Kind. Funny.

He's the whole package and yet you still kept falling for men you knew would wind up hurting you. They were all the same. You knew going into each and every relationship that it would end with your heart broken and yet you kept dating them. You were your own worst enemy.

Then, exactly two months to the day that you had broken your best friend's heart, you'd taken a test that was going to change everything.

Ben had kept inviting you to drinks and up until now you had kept declining. This time however you had accepted. You needed to talk to Frankie and he was always at drinks. You just hoped that your going wouldn't push him to ditch them that night.

When you stepped into the bar you could hear Benny call out to you and you smiled as you make your way over, noting how both brothers were smiling up at you but Frank was looking away.

"Hey." You said as you made your way to the table and sat down on the chair Ben pulled out for you "Long time no see."

"Well, whose fault is that?" Will grumbled and you grimaced as you nodded your head.

"Touche."

"Got you a beer." Ben said as he pushed the beverage towards you.

"Oh, I'm not drinking tonight." You said as you nudged it back "Alcohol hasn't been agreeing with me lately."

Frankie snorted and you tried hard to ignore the reaction. You desperately wanted to talk to him. For him to acknowledge you but you knew that he wasn't going to do that. You had hurt him.

"So what's new with you?" Ben asked "How come you've ditched us for the last two months>"

"Had a lot going on." You answered, not a complete lie "Some stuff happened and I needed some time to deal."

"What stuff?" Will asked and you sighed.

"I lost someone." You elaborated "A friend and I miss them."

"Shit Titch, I'm sorry." Will said as he gave your arm a friendly squeeze "Anyone we know?"

"I don't really wanna talk about it." You said as you gave them a weak smile.

"Figures," Frank grumbled under his breath and you looked up at him in shock.

"What was that Fish?" Ben asked and Frankie shook his head.

"Nothing." He growled out "Need another drink."

"What's his problem?" Will asked and Ben shrugged.

"Been off for a few weeks now." Ben sighed "Think he got his heart broken."

"He was seeing someone?" You pushed and Ben shook his head.

"Dunno but I haven't seen him like this since Mel died." That statement made your stomach roll "He's been really forlorn. Doesn't wanna talk about it though. He's not the guy to kiss and tell but I think he might've been seeing someone and she ditched him."

You let out a sigh as your hand reached into your pocket and clutched the item in there. You needed to talk to Frank but you weren't sure how you were going to get him to listen to you. Little did you know, it wasn't going to be how you hoped.

You were an hour into drinks when Ben finally snapped. Each snide remark Fish made when you answered a question had him at tipping point. So in a fit of rage, he opened the can.

"What the fuck is your problem Fish?" He snapped, taking the older man by surprise "You've done nothing but make shitty remarks about Titch all evenin'... Something happen?"

"Doesn't matter." Frankie grumbled and you sighed.

"Frankie I-"

"You say you're sorry to me one more time and I'll-"

"What the fuck she got to be sorry about?" Ben growled and Fish flipped.

"She fucked me and then dumped me." He snarled. taking everyone by surprise "I confessed how I felt about her and she took advantage of me."

"Frankie can we talk about this outside for a moment."

"I don't wanna hear it." He grumbled and you felt yourself growing more agitated.

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

"I doubt it."

"Please... I need to tell you something."

"Nothing they can't hear." He spat and you lost it.

"Fine!." You pulled out the item that had been burning a hole in your pocket all evening "I'm pregnant!.. and it's yours."

Frankie's expression changed from one of anger to complete shock. Finally for the first time this evening he looked at you and what he saw broke his heart.

"I'm going to keep it. I don't expect anything from you." You finished before grabbing your coat and your bag "I think I should leave."

"Titch." Ben grabbed your wrist but you pulled it from his grasp.

"Sorry to have ruined your night."

You left then. Disappearing from the bar and leaving the three men sat there in shocked silence. Frankie stared at the test in disbelief. He was going to be a dad? And with the woman who... despite everything that had happened... He was still very much in love with.

"Fish?" Will's voice pulled him from his thoughts "You okay?"

"Yeah... Um... Just, processing I guess."

"What you gonna do?" Asked Ben and Frankie shrugged.

"Do you want this?" Will asked and Frank sobbed, nodding as he looked over at Will and then a Ben.

"I really do."

"Then you best go tell her." Ben pushed as he gave his friend's arm a friendly squeeze "I know she hurt you and I pissed as shit at her about it but you guys are gonna have a baby so you got to move past that."

Frankie nodded at Benny before grabbing the test and looking at the message on the small screen.

Pregnant

He had to see you. To talk to you but he found himself glued to the spot. What was he supposed to say? He supposed he'd know the moment he saw you. So after staring at the test for a little while longer he said his goodbyes to the brothers and left, waving down a cab when he reached the street.

Meanwhile, you were sobbing quietly to yourself as you brewed your depressing mug of decaf coffee. That was not how you had wanted to tell him. You'd wanted to confess how sorry you were and how shitty you'd been before giving him the test and telling him that something wonderful had come out of it though. You had just sat down on the couch when a knock sounded at your door. You sighed as you placed your mug down on the coffee and made your way over. Not bothering to check who it was before you opened it.

There, standing on your porch was Frankie.

"Frankie, what are you-"

"I'm in." He stated plainly as he gave you a small nod "Let's have a baby!"

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