#soft frankie hours

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

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

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

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

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

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

Bitchy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your period had come.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

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

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

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

“Love you too. 🤍” 

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

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

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

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I can make that happen.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

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[luffington]

meanie ♡

➤ summary: Zoro tests out a remote-controlled vibrator on you in the middle of town. (18+)

➤ pairing: roronoa zoro x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.6k

➤ warnings: voyeurism, semi-public sex, established relationship, degradation, humiliation, fluff at the end, franky being franky, fem terms for reader

➤ notes: i've been thinking about this concept for MONTHS and i finally got around to writing it! might make a sequel featuring sanji.. who knows :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

“What is it?” You asked after several moments of silence, studying the foreign object your boyfriend had placed in the palm of your hand. Bright blue, shaped like an oversized bullet with a slightly tapered tip, coated with soft silicone. It definitely wasn’t a weapon or a tool. Zoro’s matching remote didn’t provide any clues. 

“Something I asked Franky to make.” Zoro answered smugly but internally cringed at the memory. A few days ago, he had approached the cyborg with bright red cheeks and mumbled his request without making eye contact. Franky simply responded ‘suuuperrr!’, and Zoro was still trying to forget the fact that he already knew how to build it. “Wanna see how it works?”

The remote only had three dark blue buttons: up, down, and power. He pressed the latter and you flinched as the object suddenly sprung to life in your hand, vibrating softly but consistently. “It… vibrates? Okay, but what is it used fo–” It finally clicked in your brain. “Ohhh. Oh, Zoro.” 

He mirrored your knowing smirk with his own. “C’mon, let’s test it out.”

You could barely stand the next morning, wobbling along the deck even though the sea was calm. Nami gave you a suspicious look before announcing that the ship was about to stop at a nearby island for a supply refill. 

Zoro approached you from behind, his muscular body pressed against your back. Breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “Perfect chance to use it again.”

Your eyes widened. “You mean… on the island? In public?”

“What do you think the remote is for?” He frowned. “We talked about this, I thought you were into it. But if you don’t want to…” 

You shook your head — you definitely wanted to. This was a persisting fantasy of yours, something you’d never admitted to your past partners out of embarrassment. But you trusted Zoro more than anyone. However, touching yourself while imagining the thrill of being caught was very different from the impending reality which made your stomach flutter with anxiety. 

“It’s either in town or on the Sunny. Would you rather maybe get caught by strangers or definitely get caught by our friends?” Zoro added with an annoyed expression, “Knowing my luck, that shitty cook would be the first to notice.”

Okay, he had a point. Not just Sanji – getting caught by any of your crewmates would be incredibly awkward. At least you would never see anyone in town again.

So you let Zoro lead you to the men’s quarters, climbing onto his bed as he grabbed the vibrator from his locker. Laughing as he playfully pushed you flat on your back, slotting himself between your legs and easily pulling down your skirt and undies. He ran two fingers up and down your slit before rubbing your clit in small circles. You bit back a moan – this was gonna be a long day. When you were wet enough, Zoro pushed the vibe snugly inside your pussy.

You expected him to keep going and turn it on, maybe let you cum if he was in an especially good mood. But he hopped off the bed, adjusting his rumpled shirt and leaving you to fix your own clothes. “Let’s get going. I need a fucking drink.”

The two of you had been walking around town for nearly a half hour and Zoro hadn’t touched the remote. You passed a bar fifteen minutes ago and he kept walking – he was stalling. Parading you in front of dozens of new faces and leaving you constantly anticipating the vibrations to start. It didn’t help that he kept his hand and the remote in the same pocket of his pants.

A flashy weapons shop caught his eye. He claimed he needed new materials for taking care of his swords, but you didn’t think there was anything wrong with what he had on the ship. You practically clung to him nervously as he wandered around the shop. He occasionally stopped to study items, seeming a little too interested in a sword that was comically worse than his current ones. 

As he picked it up for a closer look, the toy sprung to life inside of your pussy, causing you to squeal in shock. Vibrations sent shivers up your spine, and you felt a fire ignite in your core just as embarrassment burned in your mind. Zoro turned the power up two levels and snickered when you grabbed onto his shirt sleeve to steady yourself. “Careful, babe, there’s a lot of sharp edges around.”

“I know that.” You pressed your forehead against his shoulder and shut your eyes tightly. Unable to do anything besides rub your thighs together. The vibrations weren’t nearly strong enough to make you cum, but they were impossible to ignore. 

“The shopkeeper’s looking at you.” Your boyfriend whispered in a sultry tone. “Bet he wishes you were clinging to him instead. He definitely knows how easy you are. How easy it is to get your slutty cunt soaking wet. You just need a pair of eyes on you, huh?”

“You’re so mean,” you pouted, clenching onto his arm even tighter. Zoro turned up the toy another level and you bit back a moan. You hesitantly turned to look at the shopkeeper, a balding man with beady eyes. He seemed skeptical, not entirely sure what was going on, but his lecherous gaze still moved up and down your body as if he were appraising you. 

“Stop staring at my girlfriend, you goddamn creep.” Zoro suddenly growled and grabbed your hand, quickly moving to the exit as you stumbled behind him. The shopkeeper flushed red and opened his mouth to respond, but Zoro cut him off. “All of your swords are fucking awful.” 

You giggled as the door slammed behind you. “Zoro, if you’re gonna get jealous, why are we doing this?”

“I’m not jealous. I’m showing off what’s mine.” He was right – ‘jealous’ wasn’t the best word to describe him, since you made it clear that he had no competition. ‘Possessive’ was more accurate. He’d been like that since the start of your relationship. Always asking who your pussy belonged to, marking you with bruises and hickies, making you scream his name over and over as he pounded his cock into you. 

Thankfully, you had grown used to the light vibrations after a few minutes – Zoro was kind enough to turn the power level down, but didn’t shut it off. The two of you entered the bar you’d passed earlier, a dark and dingy place with about a dozen people inside.

“Hey!” Luffy’s obscenely loud voice rang throughout the building. He waved you over to where he was sitting, the large table already covered in empty dishes. Your eyes widened and you subtly shook your head at Zoro. The swordsman ignored you and strolled over to the bar counter to order two glasses of sake, leaving you no choice but to sit across from your captain. 

Your boyfriend placed a glass in front of you and moved his chair incredibly close to yours, resting his hand on your bare upper thigh. You shifted in your seat — big mistake. The toy was now pressed against the most sensitive spot inside you. 

“What’ve you guys been doing? Zoro, I thought you’d come straight here,” Luffy asked around a mouthful of food.

Zoro mentioned the shops you stopped by, casually turning the vibrator much higher mid-sentence. You clamped a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your lewd moan, bending over in surprise as the toy insistently massaged your walls. It simultaneously felt heavenly and sadistic – the unrelenting pressure on your g-spot and Zoro’s big hand tightening on your thigh, clearly satisfied by your response. 

Luffy seemed confused, but Zoro told him that sake doesn’t always sit right with your stomach. Yeah, sure, your glazed over eyes and squirming legs could definitely pass as a stomach ache. Maybe to your oblivious captain, but certainly not to the people around you.

Your boyfriend’s hand moved farther up your leg, sneaking under your skirt to thumb at the waistband of your panties and rub the sensitive skin underneath. The toy got even stronger, probably on its highest setting at this point. Zoro continued his conversation with Luffy without stumbling once, barely glancing at you when you spilled your second round of sake all over your white shirt. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Luffy frowned, leaning across the table to study you closely. You prayed he wouldn’t look down and notice Zoro’s half-hidden hand. “Maybe you should talk to Chopper.”

“No! No Chopper!” You immediately exclaimed, making Zoro chuckle quietly. “I… I mean I’m fine, I’m not sick.”

Your captain hummed in thought, but in typical Luffy fashion, shrugged and said, “Well, whatever.”

Zoro finally turned to look at you with a sly grin. “Why don’t we go to the bathroom to wash off that stain?” You instantly nodded in agreement.

The swordsman shoved you against the wall of a men’s bathroom stall and crashed his lips against yours, devouring your mouth like an animal. One hand held your wrists together above your head and kept you in place as the other trailed across your chest, stopping to squeeze your tits. He delighted in your barely restrained moans and breathy whimpers of his name.

“You have no idea how fucking sexy that was,” he panted against your lips. “You’re so bad at hiding how much of a dirty whore you are for attention. All you need is your cute cunt touched and you’re gone. You probably have no idea where we are right now. The only thing your slutty brain can think about is my cock, right?”

“Yes, fuck, Zoro, I need you so badly.” With a satisfied smirk, he hiked up your skirt and pulled your panties down to your mid-thighs. Unceremoniously pushing two fingers inside your hole to retrieve the vibrator. You were so lucky that the bathroom was empty – the noise you made was unholy. 

“Your panties are fucking soaked,” he snickered, admiring the obvious wet spot on the fabric. But Zoro didn’t turn the toy off, simply turned down the vibrations then reached under your shirt and pressed it against your nipple. You cried out again as he adjusted its position so your bra would keep it firmly in place.

Zoro flipped you around so you were facing the wall. He was right – you were much too cockdrunk (and slightly tipsy on real alcohol) to care about how unhygienic a bar bathroom was. You unconsciously wiggled your hips when you heard the sound of his zipper and felt his hard cock rest on top of your ass. He grabbed your wrists again to keep them firmly pinned behind your back. 

“Don’t even need to prep you, I can just slide right in,” the swordsman chuckled. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit teasingly, then shoved his entire length inside you in one rough thrust. You let out a pleased moan, glad that you were finally getting the orgasm you’d been anticipating for at least an hour. Zoro rested his head in the crook of your neck. “You’re so damn loud. We’re still in public, y’know.”

“So shut me up.” You pressed your lips against his again, tongues swirling around each other in a messy dance as he continued to fuck you hard. His cock hit all the right places inside you, the ridges and veins and warmth giving you a more human sense of satisfaction than the electronic toy ever could. It still buzzed away against your nipple, which was almost painfully stiff at that point. Zoro panted heavily against your mouth – riling you up inevitably got him riled up, and he was just as close to hitting his peak as you were.

The bathroom door opened.

Both of you froze. Your entire body went as stiff as a mannequin, too afraid to even breathe. Zoro narrowed his good eye and listened closely to every single footstep, door creak and ruffle of clothes. There were three bathroom stalls, and the stranger was courteous enough to use the one farthest from you, leaving an empty one in between. Once he was sure that the person wasn’t a Straw Hat, Zoro’s hand moved from gripping your ass to cupping your face, silently pushing two fingers between your lips. You gagged around them anxiously.

“Now we really gotta be quiet,” the swordsman whispered directly in your ear. You didn’t have time to question what he meant before he slowly moved his hips back, his dick pulling out of you inch by inch until only the tip was inside of you. He pushed back in just as carefully, the quietest smack of skin as his hips met your ass echoing in your racing mind. The stranger heard it, you knew he heard it. Zoro shifted again and you shook your head in protest, but he just pushed his fingers farther down your throat and continued to fuck you. 

The sound of a toilet flushing made you jump. Zoro’s hips moved in slow circles and grinded his cock against your walls, deep and deliberate. You heard the stranger unlock his stall and turn on the sink outside. If he glanced in the mirror, he would definitely see two pairs of feet pressed together underneath your stall. Your pussy clenched at the thought, causing Zoro to grunt quietly.

As soon as the bathroom door swung closed, Zoro pulled his spit-soaked fingers from your mouth and you gasped for air. “Good little slut listened to me for once,” he chuckled and resumed his previous brutal pace, thick cock filling your cunt so perfectly and prodding at your cervix. 

“Fuck, I’m so close…” You whined, feeling drool drip down your chin.

Zoro promptly reached underneath you to massage your clit. “I’m right there, too, baby. Cum for me.” His words – his permission – brought you over the edge. You saw stars and really tried your best to not let the entire bar hear you. Moments later, thick spurts of cum coated your insides, Zoro biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own satisfied groan. 

You stayed pressed together as you both caught your breath, his cock still snugly inside you. “Zoro, the vibrator–” He had clearly forgotten about it, but there was no way you could ignore the incessant buzzing against your practically numb nipple. He instantly fumbled to grab the remote from his pocket, finally shutting the toy off.

“My fault,” he mumbled apologetically. Letting out a content sigh and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I know I’m an asshole, but, uh, thank you. For being so good to me.”

“You’re not an asshole,” you frowned, gently rubbing the top of his head. “I’m the one who asked for this. I like it when you’re a meanie, and I like that you like it, too.”

He grinned and nuzzled into your touch, prompting you to pull him even closer. “Is there a difference between an asshole and a meanie?”

“Of course. I would never date an asshole. Just a guy who fucks me exactly how I want it.” You giggled to yourself. “We’re going to a clothing store before we leave, by the way. You owe me a new shirt.”

When you exited the bathroom, cheeks still slightly flushed and dry sweat on your temple, Franky had stolen your chair at the table, sitting across from Luffy and chugging a bottle of cola. He spotted you two and immediately gave you a big thumbs up, shouting “Yow!”. Both of you blushed furiously — so much for avoiding getting caught by your crew. Perverts recognized perverts, you supposed. 

[pedge-page]

Cravings

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!reader

Summary: Pussy eating king frankie, who gets his aforementioned nickname when you tried to come up with ways to prevent him from relapsing back to coke.

Warnings: soooo much oral —pussy eating, cum eating, grinding, dry humping, cumming in pants, kissing, Frankie's mouth is everywhere, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex, little dub con since Frankie doesn't ask if he can cum inside, overstimulation, free use esc situations

Notes: This is NOT the Frankie free-use series I mentioned before; I'm a bit delayed with writing it, so here's something else i had started as a drabble but then... did not stay a drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoy this fic!

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Rather than drowning himself in coke, Santi slyly suggest he drowns himself in pussy instead. The guys around the table laughed, but you kind of agreed and told him you'd help set him up on hookups. Frankie didn't want to go through the trouble of having to find a potentially different girl each night. Plus, his cravings were sporadic. He would need his fix in that moment whenever it came.

He remembered back when you had drunkenly admitted guys could hardly satisfy you because you had a high drive, usually cumming on your fingers at least 6 times a day before bed, often times more on lonely weekends. He was left speechless at the time, but now he couldn't get Santi's proposition mixed with that knowledge of you out of his head.

You tried to cook him meals instead or buy him hoards of candy, but the idea was stuck in his mind. You knew you'd be a convenient alternative, given you only lived less than 10 minutes away and was always around when he needed help. But you were afraid of crossing that line with one of your all time best friends.

Eventually, being around him so much—"on call" as the boys put it—left you susceptible to his sweet touches, ghosting lips against your ears, sporadic twitches and jittery hands, antsy fingers dancing along your hips. You considered the option heavily before finally caving: you were doing this to HELP him, as his friend. Just a little relief every so often when he absolutely needed it.

You came 9 times on his tongue the first time. It wasn't even that he was trying to make you cum, but the eagerness in the way he moved so fast, growling and moaning at the taste, his lips attached and never left your heat. His big nose just perfectly bumping your clit each time he pointed his tongue dove deep into your craving hole, curling up and hitting that soft spot inside you left you shaking and crying out his name, back arched and fingers clawing at his shoulders.

He was sated for almost 6 days (and you needed the ample recovery time because not even your fingers could make you cum so hard) before the craving hit again. Incessant knuckles pounded your doorstep. You had barely unlocked the door before he was shoving himself in and devouring your mouth with his. "I need another hit, carniño."

He didn't wait for a response, knocking you on your ass on the sofa and stripping your sweats and panties off before throwing one leg over his shoulder. Flattening his tongue, he licks a long strip along from your hole to your clit, obscenely guttural moans from the back of his throat filled your ears. He looked wild-eyed and crazy, as if starved for weeks and was finally given the sugar rush of the century.

You inevitably move in with him, claiming his spare bedroom, worried about how bad he gets when he goes anything longer than a few hours without you.

He makes you ride his face until you're suffocating him, and he still can't get enough. Your juices flood his mouth and nose and his eyes roll back as he loses air. You try to get off and apologies, but he's caged your thighs with his muscular arms, holding your pussy flat against his face as he devoured you more, ignoring your squirming pleas. He hums against your nub, the vibrations sending you into your own addictive high. You cum again, and again, and again, and soon you're tugging his hair, crying his name with fat tears down your cheek, leaning back and scratching at his chest to let off, but its useless. He's so lost in your cunt that you become light headed, barely holding on to the headboard as your lower body continues to spasm.

He only pulls off for a minute, squeezing his nostrils to force out your juices. He's so dazed, pupils blown wide, beard and mustache drenched in your slick, so pussy-drunk and in love that he wants to do it again. "Sweetest fucking cunt, I swear. Just wanna curl up and live inside here, querida."

You offer to suck him off but he gestures embarrassingly down, where you turn to see a dark splotch on the belt-line of his pants where the tip of his spent cock peaks out, dribbling little white drops onto his lower belly, having cum untouched just from eating you out.

It gets to the point where you lock yourself in the bathroom when you take a shower just to have 10 minutes of peace. Your pussy is so puffy, clit so swollen from his constant assault day and night that you have to calm down and remind yourself what good its doing for him. He hasn't touched the white powder in weeks.

He's wondered where you've gone when he sees the bathroom light illuminate under the door. He knocks a few times, then raps harsher with his fists, calling out your name. You tell him you just need a minute. The makeshift locks on the bathroom door of Frankie's apartment isn't designed to keep an ex militant out, and he just pushes it forward with enough force that it gives way and he let's himself in. You go to cover yourself when he pulls the shower curtains away, but the same needy expression on his face as he narrows in to the slit between your legs has you aching once again. It's Pavlovian, the way he stares, practically drooling, hands twitching by his side, sending signals to your cunt to start dripping for his appetite. He spins you around so your cheek is smothered against tile, ass out towards him, not caring about the water drenching his baseball cap, grey shirt and pants as he kneels on the shower floor and puts his face between your legs. He moans when his lips start sucking on your nub, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole. He keeps you in your spread position with his arms holding your waist, making their way to spread your ass for him to dive further in, knees between your heels. You reach one arm back, knocking his cap off as you card your fingers through his damp hair, gripping it when you cum and grind yourself back on his scruffy face.

He's otherwise so gentle, so soft spoken, but when he gets between your legs, something primal takes over and you can hardly recognize him.

Sometime in the evening while you were watching a movie, you see his knee bouncing next to you. You has snapped at him earlier and refused his hunger when he peppered kisses all over your neck, down your back, then tried to yank your pants down while you were cooking dinner for the two of you, nearly burning your arm on the stove from such force.

You hated that you had outright refused him for the first time, but the truthfully the swollenness between your legs needed rest before he wrecked you again. He's biting his lip so hard, stealing glances at you before rubbing his hair and shifting his cap back on.

You instead take your top off, having gotten comfortable enough to go without a bra when it was just the two of you. Frankie is a bit shocked, only used to seeing you strip your pants first before anything else.

You crawl over to him before sitting in his lap, thighs spread over his. He swallows the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off of your tits right in front of him. His legs are still bouncing in agitation, the movement making your breasts jiggle right in front of him. He groans, licking his lips, breathing heavily.

"She needs a break, Fish," you said quietly, your soft and small hands seeking his big and callous ones, pulling them up over your waist before letting them settle on your cups.

He doesn't hesitate or ask further, head leaning forward and lips immediately latching on to your nipple. He moans, eyes closed as he sucks around the areola, tongue swirling your pebble as he kneads them in his hands.

You're trying so hard not to grind down on his cock, instead sitting upright on your knees so you're not fully resting your damp panty-covered crotch against the tent in his pants. The position is more head level with your tits, but he doesn't like that. He grips your hips to bring you flush against him, gasping out when you instinctually start rocking your hips steadily against his clothed length.

He noticed how heavily your chest is flexing, glaring up at you to see your brows furrowed, face tilted towards the ceiling trying not to cum on him. He cups his hands against your cheeks and brings you in for a sweet kiss, his lips slotting perfectly against yours as his hands return to palming your breasts. He presses his forehead against yours so your eyes meet, goosebumps wracking your whole body at the lust behind his eyes, and something more you couldn't place. "So good to me, querida. Perfect lips"—he gently pecks your lips—"perfect tits"—then a generous kiss to each of your breasts—"my perfect girl." You could smell the scent of your pussy on his lips, as if they'd be stained there now. Kissing your lips, your throat, collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, and erect nipples, and all the way back up again, was enough to keep his mouth busy and his craving subsided. And it worked almost as well, the two of you cumming sticky and wet against one another in your underwear with heavy sighs and sated eyes; you had calmed him down enough to get him to remove his clothes and put on a fresh pair of boxers before tucking him to his own bed with your favorite blanket.

As you tip toed into the bathroom to prep for a bath, you stared at your naked reflection: how swollen, and red your breasts were, covered in raised bite marks the shape of Frankie's jaws. Among your new scars are the faded scratches and bruises of Frankie's fingertips on your waist, stomach and lower back from how incessantly he devours you while his face is buried in your sopping pussy, like he had to sink his claws into you so you wouldn't slip away as he feasted. You look like you were attacked by a passionate lion.

His sweet nothings every time he stared into your eyes was what really turned you on. You tell yourself that it was just the withdrawal symptoms talking. That he was basically just high on a new drug.

-

To you, it must have looked like Frankie's craving were only getting worse with how increasingly frequent his lips found themselves attached to your body. In truth, his desire for coke steadily grew less, and it wasn't the replacement of the powder that he was seeking from you but rather the insaitability of finally having you that grew stronger.

The rest of boys noticed the effects you're having on Frankie too. They see it when he meets them for a drink every other Saturday, the way he anxiously taps his foot under the table, glancing around like he's unsure what to do, where to go, because he can't sit still. It's the signs of his cravings kicking back in, and they're all worried at first. But it's not until you up show later and slide into the booth next to him that they notice: Frankie casually drapes his arm around your shoulders like he always did—that part was normal. But what was new is how they could visibly see Frankie's heart rate slow, the way he slumped against the bench and completely calmed down from just your presence.

They also couldn't help but notice the way his eyes raked you with a mix of lust, love, and obsession, his dark gaze never once leaving the sight of you the entire night. All the while you laughed and chatted with them about your week, oblivious to the change in demeanor of your friend from just a few months ago.

You assured the boys that you two weren't fucking—and it was true, you hadn't slept with him once. albeit a few blow jobs, it was exclusively just Frankie eating you out or kissing. You were very hopeful that his cravings were going to go away soon since its the longest he's been off coke. You were even talking to your old landlord to see if your old apartment a few blocks away still had openings since you'd be moving out of Frankie's place soon. Santi couldn't help but see Frankie's dejection, his arm sliding away from you as he excused himself to get more beer.

By the end of the night, Frankie was drunk out of his mind. Will suggested he slow down so he wouldn't pass out before he could walk home. It sounded like a good plan, until Francisco glanced over to the bar and saw you sitting there and smiling at a guy who was flirting with you. Fish took a giant gulp of his beer, downing the entire jug before slamming it on the table and striding out of the booth towards you. He overheard the guy asking if you had a ride home tonight.

"She comes home with me. Every. Night," he slurred, his sweaty palm skimming possessively over your jean-clad thigh and snaking between your legs, face coming so close to you that your noses slide against each other. Frankie's eyes bore into yours with so much desire, it bordered on range. You knew those were his craving eyes. The pungent smell of alcohol on his breath made you flinch as he tried to pull you in for a kiss. You quickly tell the confused guy that he's your roommate and you need to get him home immediately. You could barely finish excusing yourself from the stranger before Frankie was dragging you out of the bar. You managed to wave to the others, making a drinking gesture and pointing to Frankie before being yanked into the street.

He was stumbling all over the place, breath uneven as you hoisted him up to lean against you, eventually making it through his apartment entrance and turning the key to unlock his unit.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Frankie slammed the door close behind him and pinned you up against it, his hands roaming your body as his mouth desperately sought yours. "Craving," he mumbled against your open lips. "Need"—tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it before releasing with a pop— "need you," he panted.

"I know, I know—Jesus Fish. I'm—gonna help—gonna take care of you—" you breathed, ashamed of how quickly you could feel your panties dampen. It never bothered him though, and only encouraged his sweet tooth more. You weren't nearly as drunk as him, but your few margaritas made you extremely susceptible, even welcoming, to his touch.

You hummed into his shoulder when his hard bulge rubbed purposefully against your covered core. He bit your earlobe as he fisted your low-neck shirt before pulling it down roughly, the fabric tearing away. You gasped, ready to scold him but he pressed his mouth on you again, teeth clashing, his hands slotting down your body to pinch, grope, scratch at any bit of skin he could get.

"So—so good t'me. Always taking—such good care of me, cariño."

His fingers dip into your ass and hoist you up so he's carrying you, your arms and legs wrapped securely around him as he boldered through his apartment, kicking his door open before tossing you on the bed, watching you bounce. You never break eye contact as you unbutton your jeans at the same time Frankie pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside to unfasten his belt and zipper.

Clambering over you to reseal your lips, you breath in his scent, hands exploring his tone arms, down his chest and muscle middle all the way to the little pooch of tummy hanging. His hands gripped your jeans and pulled them along with you down the length of the bed, bringing you to the edge, his grip pushing up on the back of your thighs so your knees are digging against your rib cage, pulsing pussy exposed at his mercy. "I fuckin' love this pussy, querida," he growled before burying his face between you folds for the thounsandth time. "So fuckin' wet for me," he mumbled against your thigh, nipping at the skin.

He ate you out with precision, eyes hungry watching you, determined to make you fall apart quickly. He wasn't doing it for his own taste, but the sheer satisfaction of watching you writhe for him, knowing your body inside out as the only one who could get you like this. He's languidly thrusting two fingers in and out. You didn't even need to be stretched: he'd practically been prepping you for months now. You're crying out into the air as you cum, hips bucking against his nose with your heels digging into his shoulder blades. Frankie pulls away, kissing your stomach and up your tits before making you taste yourself on his lips.

The feeling of his cock nudging your entrance make your once dazed eyes go wide and alert. He pauses, suddenly worried. He can't read your expression, time dragging out too long and it scares the fuck out of him that he's taking it too far, that you didn't agree to this.

He had wanted to tell you everything right then: how he dreams of you riding him, or when he fists his cock in the shower when you're at work to the thought of what your tight walls would feel like wrapped around him when first violates you, how he automatically gets aroused now when he just sees you or smells your laundry, or admitting how many times he's actually cum in his pants without you noticing when he is buried between your legs, dying to have you cum around his cock instead of his tongue.

It's not until you sense his hesitation that you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close, sharing the same breath of air, nodding as your calves hook over his ass and squeeze his hips, the tip of his flush cock slipping in to your wet heat.

You both sigh heavily into each other's mouth when he takes charge again and thrusts fully inside you. He scrunches his eyes closed, forehead dipping down to your breast bone to revel in the overwhelming feeling of the tight space inside you.

You warmly caress his hair to bring him back up to you, kissing him and whispering, lips trembling, "Don't—don't think about it. Just... just use me."

His heart sank: You probably just thought this was another hit for him.

He didn't want to think about the fact that you were everything he'd needed in that moment, the image of perfection beneath him beautifully laid out for his eyes, his touch, but not for his soul. He gritted his teeth, pulling out then slamming back in, jolting your whole body up the mattress. It was fast, rough, and not at all how he wanted your first time to be with him, but he couldn't control his urges. He was gasping loudly as he fucked you, your cunt gushing around his member, the obscene sound of slick and skin slapping skin echoing in his otherwise empty apartment.

He brought his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit, sending you into a spasm of praises and expletives, but the most satisfying sound was his name repeated over and over again.

He barely manages to pull out before jerking his cock only twice and creaming all over your folds and clit. Groaning in post orgasmic bliss, he watches you heaving and shaking, filthy pussy covered in his seed. Half of his mind is only working now as he slides back down to lap you clean with his mouth, his own saltiness filling his throat, fingers scissoring inside to get your juices flowing, obsessed with the sight in front of him: your back arched off the bed, heels digging into his lower back as his hands pinning your hips down flat so he can work his mouth over you. And then you're cumming again, so angelic on his tongue, your sweet moans going right to his dick, hardening once again as he ruts into the mattress. He nips your clit and sucks, reluctant to pull away as he lines up and splits you open. You scream out, and if it weren't for the way your barely-recovered battered walls kept sucking him back in, he'd be worried you're in pain. His hands hook under your lower back, lifting you off the bed as he plows into your squelching cunt over and over again.

Youre both covered in a thin layer of sweat, the pillows and comforter of his bed strewn haphazardly around the floor as he dominates you. The headboard slammed recklessly agains the wall, and neither of you cared about your neighbors trying to sleep at 1 in the morning. He ignores the oversensitivity of his cock and your clit, forcing you both into an unexpected climb of another orgasm like it was a primal need.

It was happening without warning; he should be asking for permission, but he knew you took the pill, and he's been dying to release inside you from the moment you first let him put his lips on you. You're cumming on his cock again, hips bucking and grinding against him without your clit being touched, and he was done for.

With a harsh cry, he climaxes again, his length flooding your womb with ribbons of white. His arm shoots in front of him, flat on the bed next to your ear to hold himself up so he didn't crash down on you as his hips jerked, pushing his seed deeper in to you.

He rested most of his weight on top of you, labored breaths combined into one. He kisses the top of your nose, whispering "thank you," unsticking your sweaty bodies as he rolls you two over to have you lying on top, your head next to his. He pats your hair over your ear, pebbling your forehead and eyelids in kisses. His cock twitched in your spent heat, cum leaking out and dripping down to his balls and on the bed.

"Glad I—could...help..." you mumbled, eyes already closed as you drifted into sleep.

His softening dick slipped from your pussy, warm hands wiping you with his shirt before settling you gently on a pillow. He watched the gentle rise and fall of your breaths, naked and fast alseep on his bed. He pulled his sheets higher to your shoulder, his heart beating faster at the way you snuggled further into his pillow.

Frankie stared at the ceiling for hours, hand on his forehead in anguish, wondering how the fuck he was supposed to tell you it wasn't cocaine he was craving last night.

- - - -

Part 2: Crash

Series masterlist

[luffysscraps]

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

Ft; The straw hat pirates

•Luffy

-“huh? Why do you think I call you pretty? Of course you’re pretty! You’re like the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen! You silly girl.” He grabs your waist and tickles you until you can’t laugh any more, all with the widest smile on his face.

•Zoro

-“What type of question is that? You think I’d be dating you if you weren’t?” He looks at you as if you’re stupid for a second then a smile finds its way to his face. “You’re a cutie.”

•Nami

-“Sure you’re pretty, but I’m prettier! Don’t ya think~?” She teases you with a smile sticking her tongue out and flashing a peace sign at you. But then she hugs you and rubs her cheek against yours. “You caught me! I was lying! You’re wayyy cuter then me!”

•Usopp

-“W-well I uh- of course you’re pretty! You’re beautiful! Magnificent! The beautiful partner of the great captain Usopp!” He says with red cheeks and a puffed up chest. Standing tall as he wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you into his chest.

•Sanji

-“My dear! You’re more then pretty~! You’re beautiful! The apple of my eye! You’re beauty is far too complex for us mortals to understand! You’re a goddess! An angel sent from heaven above gracing me with your presence! You’re-“ The male talks on and on for HOURS about your grace and beauty all with hearts in his eyes.

•Robin

-“Y/N… you’re beautiful.” Is all she says with a sweet smile on her face. Her beautiful ocean eyes gracing yours. Hands appearing from your sides and wrapping you in a hug. It was soft, warm and gentle. Once her hands disappear she moves in and gives you another hug with a soft, closed eyed smile.

•Franky

-“YOU’RE SUPER PRETTY! WHO TOLD YOU, YOU WEREN’T?!? I’LL BEAT THE CRAP OUTTA THEM BABE. U N’ ME 4EVER!” Now you’ve got him started. He’s doing poses and moving rapidly around you, switching from telling you how pretty and beautiful you are to how he’d beat whoever called you ugly into the ground.

[mytheoristavenue]

Protected Sex with Your Fav!

Summary: He wants to be safe for your first time but you aren't on birth control. Luckily, he always comes prepared.

Warnings: Protected/safe sex, first time, soft sex, condom breaking, afab!reader

"Y-You're on birth control, right?" He mutters, already deep inside and holding you seated against him as you adjust to his size.

"No," You wince out in agony from the stretch. "I-I didn't think about it before now..."

"'Ts fine, babe," He sighs, pulling out so slowly. "Got us covered," He pulls his wallet from his tossed jeans, digging out a condom, that had sat for so long, the leather had taken it's shape and the wrapper was taught over the ring.

"So you expected this?" You laugh weakly, still a bit sore and daze.

"Always prepared, baby." He smirks, bringing it to his teeth to tear off the edge while a free hand holds you down by your sternum. You strain your neck to watch him roll it on, spitting in his hand to wet the outside before realigning. "Glad I thought to ask, I probably wouldn't have been able to stop any later..."

Your giggle is cut off by his reentry, melting into a low moan. "Hah hah ahh....fuck," It doesn't hurt as much this time as he bottoms out, giving you a moment before rolling his hips into yours as softly as his desire will allow.

Almost half an hour passes, not that anyone is counting, and he's on the edge, having sat there for a while, still going as slowly as he can. He's putting all his effort into pleasing you, and you said you like it slow, so he's going to give it to you slow. "Fuck, so soft..." He murmurs, holding you close, head resting on your shoulder, facing you.

"I'm so close, don't stop," You whined, face buried in his neck, rocking your hips in tandem with his. "Please, just like that..." Your wish is his command as he guides you through your climax, doing exactly as you say.

"That's it baby, just cum, you can do it," He praises breathlessly, the sounds of you coming undone beneath him and the way you spasm around him behind too much for his heart to take. "Fuuck... Gonna cum baby, you ready?" He moans, hips falling into a sloppy pattern as he wrestles not to break you then and there. "Let's cum together baby, so fuckin' romantic..."

After the smoke clears, you two are still laid up in each other's arms, coming down from a shared high. You feel so connected, one with the other, laughing dazily and doting on each other. "I was so warm," You muse with a sweet blush. "I felt so full..."

"I didn't think you'd been when I came through the rubber," He replies nonchalantly, before paling. "Oh, fuck,"

"What's the matter, big guy?" You ask, worried at the panic on his face, wincing as he drags himself out.

He ignores your concern, sitting up on his knees, running his fingertips along his shaft and head, trembling at the overstimulation of his still-sensitive flesh. His heart sinks, feeling a wet spot just over the slit. "W-Well, uh," He says sheepishly, biting his lips, finding the nearly microscopic tear. "It broke..."

Mezo Shoji, Mashirao Ojiro, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Izuku Midoryia, Fumikage Tokoyami, Rikido Sato, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Juzo Honenuki, Shihai Kuroiro, Hiryu Rin, Kosei Tsuburaba, Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Tanjiro Kamado, Tomioka Giyuu, Mokey D. Luffy, God Usopp, Roronoa Zoro, Vinsoke Sanji, Cyborg Franky, Portgas D. Ace, Spirit Albarn, and whoever else you want!

[chibinasuu]

Captain's Seat | Luffy x Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: You checked up on the Captain, who had been sitting on his favorite seat for hours as he tried to get the first glimpse of an oncoming island Word count: 1.2k Tags: one-shot, fluff, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, main pairing could be interpreted as platonic or romantic, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind

a/n: here it is, the final fic of the thousand sunny slice-of-life series, featuring our beloved captain!! i wanna say thank you to everyone who has been following along, and a warm welcome to everyone who’s seeing this series for the first time! without further ado, please enjoy!

“This is boooring,” Luffy whined from his perch on the Sunny’s railing, one hand limply holding a fishing pole. 

The water today was calm, and the weather was sunny, but not too hot. That is to say, it was a perfect morning for fishing. But, it had also been two weeks since the last time the Straw Hats set foot on solid ground, so you could understand why your Captain was bored out of his mind.

“It hasn’t even been ten minutes, Captain.” You chuckled as you looked up at him. You were leaning against the railing next to Luffy, a fishing pole of your own gripped between your fingers. 

“But no fish is biting!” He pouted, resting his chin on top of his hand.

“Have some patience, Luffy.” You chided him, though a smile was still present on your face. Knowing full well how his brain works, you wittily added, “Don’t you want some grilled fish for lunch? Or sashimi? Maybe some fish and chips? I’m sure Sanji will make something delicious with our catch.”

Luffy’s eyes practically sparkled at the mention of food, and his focus returned to his fishing pole with renewed vigor. You smiled to yourself, nothing motivated your Captain more than a promise of a good old feast. 

“And get down from there, will you?” you told him, eyeing his precarious position on the thin railing, “I’m not fishing you out if you fall overboard.”

“That’s alright!” Luffy laughed cheekily, “Zoro will get me!”

You sighed, knowing that he was absolutely correct. 

Today’s catch ended up being an octopus, some mackerels, and a giant tuna, which was so massive that it actually managed to drag Luffy into the ocean. Zoro immediately jumped after him of course, just like Luffy said he would, and successfully wrangled the tuna onboard with him too. 

Sanji was ecstatic to see the tuna and proceeded to expertly filet the fish, treating the crew to a fresh sashimi platter before cooking the rest of it for lunch.

The meal that followed was a buffet of seafood delicacies – Sanji’s specialty – and by the end of it, everyone was so full that no one seemed to have the willpower to get up from the dining table. 

“Oh, right!” Nami suddenly spoke up, “We’ve entered an island’s climate, by the looks of the weather, so we should make landfall…”

Nami’s sentence was cut short by Luffy’s excited whoop. He immediately leaped up from his chair and charged outside, looking back only to thank Sanji for the meal. You could hear the Captain hooting with joy as he ran to the front of the ship, singing the word “adventure” over and over to a random tune of his own making.

The orange-haired girl heaved a long sigh, “I was saying that we may be making landfall in a few days. The island won’t even come into view until tomorrow, at least.” 

Robin let out a soft giggle, “Let him be, Nami. You know how excited he always gets whenever we’re approaching a new island.”

The crew returned to their respective activities after lunch. Franky and Usopp were holed up in their workshops, while Zoro was training in the crow’s nest. Nami was in the library, readying her mapmaking tools to chart the new island and the seas surrounding it. Robin was keeping her company, deeply engrossed in a book. 

You helped Sanji wash the dishes and clean up the dining room, before asking him for pieces of vegetables to feed the Straw Hats’ resident transponder snails. The little creatures usually just sleep a lot, so it was always fascinating to see their round eyes widen at the sight of some fresh greens. 

A couple of hours passed before you noticed that Luffy had yet to come down from his spot at the figurehead. Now that your chores are finished, you figured it was a good time as any to go check up on him. 

“Hey, Captain!” You called out from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the lion’s head, “Mind if I join you?”

Luffy whipped his head around at your voice, yelling out your name excitedly. His lips formed a sly grin, and your eyes widened as you belatedly realized what he was up to, “Luffy, don’t you dare!”

There was nothing you could do as Luffy’s arm stretched out, wrapped several times around your waist, and snatched you off the deck. You crashed into him, both of you struggling to maintain your balance on the curved figurehead. 

Once you were safely seated next to him, you playfully swatted his arm, “I could’ve just used the stairs, you know. Did you want to fall into the ocean for the second time today?”

He only scratched his head and laughed maniacally, “My bad!”

Luffy’s eyes returned to the horizon, eager to catch the first glimpse of the island, which, according to Nami, won’t even appear until tomorrow. 

You said teasingly, “How come you can stay up here for hours but get bored with only ten minutes of fishing?” 

“Hmm,” He seriously considered, before nodding decisively, “Because the view is way better from here.” 

You laughed, “We’re in the middle of the ocean, Luffy. The view is practically the same from anywhere on the ship!”

“Nope!” He insisted, “Here is better.”

You could only chuckle, “If you say so, Captain.”

After a few minutes, Luffy’s knees started bouncing in excitement, “I wonder what kind of adventure we’ll have on this next island! Do you think there's gonna be a jungle? A desert? A crowded town? Ah, I can’t wait to taste the food there too!”

“Looking at our track record so far, there will probably also be trouble waiting for us, huh?” You said in jest, nudging him with your shoulder. 

“Well, whatever the trouble, I’m not worried one bit.” He gave you a wide grin, “After all, I have you guys with me!” 

Luffy put both his hands in front of his face and counted off on his fingers, “I have you, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, and Jinbe. We always made it through together somehow, don’t we? So, we can just keep doing what we do until we reach the end of the Grand Line!”

You nodded in agreement, your heart filled anew with joy and gratitude for this little family of yours – this little band of misfits who had somehow found each other amid this wide, wide ocean.  

Your Captain was uncharacteristically solemn for a moment before he proclaimed, “Then, I’m going to become the King of the Pirates!” 

He had said the exact same thing thousands of times before, but the conviction in his voice never wavered. 

“You will.” You replied with equal confidence, not a shadow of doubt in your mind. 

“And you all are gonna be there by my side when I do.” Luffy said, not as a question or even a Captain’s order, just a statement that you both knew would come true. 

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, “Of course we will.”

With that signature laugh of his, he took off his treasured hat and placed it firmly on top of your head, “Y'know, I’m glad you joined my crew!”

“Well, you didn’t exactly give me a choice!” You joked, recalling how he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he first invited you to join the Straw Hat Pirates. You leaned your head against his and squeezed his hand, “But, I’m really glad I’m here too.”

You sat side-by-side with Luffy for hours after that, eyes on the horizon, awaiting the stage for your next adventure to come into sight.

Maybe your Captain was right, the view really did seem better from up here.

a/n: aaahh it’s over! thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed that! this series may have come to an end, but i’d love to write some more of these slice-of-life stories if someone requested it, so if you have ideas/scenarios featuring any of the straw hats, you are more than welcome to slide into my askbox or dm!

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

[grandline-fics]

Shifting Focus

DESCRIPTION: The moment they began to see you as more than just a crew-mate

WARNINGS: None

CHARACTERS: Sanji, Law | Shanks,Kid, Smoker

WORD COUNT: 1,125

MASTERLIST

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

SANJI

Another battle done, another town unexpectedly saved and the Strawhats were front in centre of a celebration banquet thrown by the thankful civilians. Never one to turn down the chance to enjoy themselves with a good party everyone in the crew savoured every moment of it before they’d have to set sail again. Chopper, Luffy, Franky, and Usopp were laughing and joking around as usual. Zoro had found a relatively quiet place to drink while still enjoying the atmosphere. Brook stood with the musicians, already he’d picked up on their songs and was able to join them perfectly. As always Sanji’s first priority was the food, looking over everything appreciatively and talking to the cooks to learn any new flavour combinations or techniques.

The sound of cheering pulled him from his careful examination of how the meat was prepared. Across the town square he watched as you, Nami, and Robin were being taught the dance moves of a local dance. You were getting the hang of it but when you were meant to kick your leg out, you twirled which knocked you into Nami. Together the two of you were knocked towards the ground only to be stopped by Robin’s summoned limbs. The three of you laughed along with the other dancers. Sanji couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, that was you all over. 

Even when you stumbled you still found a way to find a positive about it all. After getting untangled from your crew-mate you wandered over to the food table and grinned happily at Sanji. “Were you blown away by my amazing dance skills?” you asked playfully, eyes trained solely on his face.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Sanji admitted with a flirtatious grin, returning your intent stare with equal attention for emphasis. He took in the way your eyes sparkled under the soft light of the lanterns hung above your head, the way your lips spread out into the brightest smile that was too infectious to fight. All around him he could hear the laughter and sound of other women and only now did he realise that you were the only person he wanted to pay attention to. Suddenly the sound of the music changed into something fast and you gasped excitedly, reaching for Sanji’s hand. “Wh-”

“C’mon Black Leg, dance with me!” you urged, tugging him towards the centre of the square. Slowly you looked over your shoulder to fix him with a challenging look. “Or do you think you can’t keep up with me?” Sanji stared at you and prayed he wasn’t misreading the hopeful glint in your eyes. Could it be your words held more weight beyond the light-hearted flirting he’d been used to? 

Not wanting to let the chance go, he tightened his grip on your hand and twirled you effortlessly while walking with you to the dance floor. “Oh I’m with you every step of the way.”

LAW

Law was exhausted and yet even with being a doctor, he chose to push himself further instead of actually taking the free time they were between islands to rest. He sat hunched over his desk, gaze pouring over multiple medical textbooks and charts of the islands they could end up at. Absently he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall but kept his tired eyes focused on the pages in front of him. “Captain? You haven’t gone to bed yet?” A low sigh came from his lips before he looked to Bepo. His deadpan expression telling the bear that obviously he hadn’t. He knew the crew was concerned for this awful sleeping habits but this was something that needed to be done.

“I’ll go soon.” He told the navigator and dropped his head back down, nothing more needed to be said. At least that was what Law thought. Two hours ago he’d promised Sachi he’d ‘go to bed soon’ and Penguin was promised the same an hour before that. It was getting out of hand so Bepo walked through the corridors of the Polar Tang in determination. Twenty minutes later the door to Law’s study opened and he snapped his head up. “Bepo I said-!” he shut his mouth to see you entering. 

“Oh dear, Captain, we might need to get your eyes checked if you think I share any resemblance to him.” You teased while approaching the table. Law kept his head down but was acutely aware of you standing behind him, your gaze sweeping over what was causing today’s lack of sleep. Offering nothing more than a small hum of interest you set a cup of tea and a snack beside his elbow and stepped around to the opposite side of the table again. His stare moved from the offering to you as you sat on the edge of the table, one of the texts lifted into your hand. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me to go to bed?” he asked with a frown, watching as you flipped the page and shook your head. “Why not?”

“Not much point in doing that is there, Captain?” You asked innocently with a knowing smile. “You never listen. I mean it’s fine, you know best.” Law folded his arms and continued to watch you. “There’s actually a bet now.”

“A bet?” Law repeated in interest and slight worry. Bets among the crew were standard, something to help pass the time but when it was about him, it was something he couldn’t ignore. You nodded and turned the text around to face him, lightly tapping a passage for him to read. Law’s eyes flickered down briefly to note the page and saw it was exactly what he was looking for; notes about a virus that was common in one of the islands they were heading to along with it’s method of treatment. But that wasn’t the pressing matter anymore he found. “What’s the bet?”

“Oh just just the guys betting what time you’ll actually fall asleep at. Whoever guesses right wins a date with me.” You answered so casually and leant over the table to grab another textbook. He observed you so intently, trying to hide his shock at the terms of the bet. He stared at you hard, searching your face for any trace that it was a lie but the twisting knot was growing in his stomach. He all but flinched when you unleashed the full force of your stare at him. “If you go to bed now, they all lose.” Your voice was low, practically urging him to make a decision. Whether you were lying about the bet or not, Law’s body acted immediately. He got to his feet and strode to the door, leaving you to smirk triumphantly. “Night Captain.” 

[zwhoreo]

Can i get some Luffy smut? If you don’t do smut i’d love some fluff!! ☠️💖

so hyped to write smut again let’s go <3

caught in the act - luffy x f!reader

SMUT!!

summary: while he’s missing you at night, luffy gets the urge to touch himself while his crewmates are sleeping, and this works out well… until you walk in

contains: handjob, established relationship, innocent but very horny luffy, light exhibitionism

words: 1.6k

________________________

They’re all deep sleepers, right? The crew around Luffy is unmoving, rhythmic breathing making blankets rise and fall against their chests. It’s dark out, he watches the moonlight rise and fall against the wooden floor and swaying bunks as the ship rocks slowly in waves. He’s been up for a couple hours, wriggling uncomfortably in his bed, he’s restless and he can’t sleep and he’s trying to figure out why. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go bother you, he’s missing the feeling of wrapping your body in his and falling asleep in your arms. But you’ve been put on watch tonight and told Luffy to go sleep somewhere warm, you’d be fine out on your own.

So he’s with the guys in the men’s quarters and he’s missing you greatly. He’s stressed, he doesn’t like being alone like this at night anymore, if he can help it.

How can he relax? How can he think of you but calm his mind but go to sleep? But then he remembers something you once told him, about how it’s sometimes soothing, and will help you with bad sleep, if you touch yourself between the legs for a while. He’s done it once or twice, out of pure curiosity, but usually that’s your job and it doesn’t feel that good unless it’s your hands and he’s getting kissed and held at the same time. But maybe tonight he could give it another go.

He’s still wearing jean shorts, the fabric tough and difficult to really feel himself through. Maybe he should take them off, but he doesn’t really want to do that here, he understands the implicit shame of getting yourself off around others, and getting caught.

So he palms himself, rubbing gentle circles over the zipper, building up a pleasant friction and now his cock is aching and twitching in his pants. He grits his teeth and wants to stop, this is getting embarrassing, but it’s feeling so good that his hand is almost moving on its own. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels his breathing get heavier as he presses harder, blood pumping in time with his heartbeat down beneath his legs, he feels himself filled there, swelling…

“Mmmgh…” he moans in a raspy, distant sort of way, unconscious now of his hands or his voice or his bed or his mind, it’s all his cock, burning up against him, desperate to be cared for.

Luffy yanks off his shorts in a fluid motion, feeling his dick slap his stomach, hard and needy. His hands find himself and he tries to imitate what you might do, how you stroke deeply yet carefully, how your thumb etches patterns into the skin, he’s sloppy and clumsy about it because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and now he gets more and more frustrated, heart racing.

So soft slaps fill the silent room as he jerks off furiously, squeezing his cock and rubbing in whatever way he can and just praying that something will be right, if he just tries over and over. Little throaty moans and gasps echo through the men’s quarters and thank god they’re drowned by the others’ snoring, and the creaking of the ship on the waves. He arches his back and squirms and he wants to cum so bad now, it’s hurting him. But he can’t, he just rubs and rubs, faster and more frantically.

You’re trying to find your jacket, meanwhile.

You thought the night would be warm like the day but the stars brought ice. You’re in your favorite blue velvet night dress but it only barely covers your chest, your arms and shoulders are exposed. You wander to your room to check the dresser but your jacket isn’t there. So you wrack your mind, where did you leave it?

Oh yeah, when you were helping Franky fix a leak in the ceiling. The ceiling of the men’s quarters. You had set it down on the table, right? Yes, it must still be there.

So you find the door and open it as softly as you can, creeping your way in through the crack of moonlight, and as you stand in the doorway you look up for a moment, and you meet Luffy’s eyes.

Deer eyes, frozen still, pants off and throbbing cock clutched in his hand. His legs are spread, he’s propped up on an elbow and he’s staring at you, motionless.

You’re in total shock, unsure of what to do. You stare into his eyes as your cheeks burn red and your first instinct is to turn and leave without saying anything. But behind the humiliation in Luffy’s eyes you see a burning need. He wants you really, really bad.

His chest rises and falls fast, like a nervous animal, he blinks a few times at you. He’s sick with anxiety about getting caught in the act, even if you’re his girlfriend, he feels gross and dirty all of a sudden.

But wordlessly you smile at him. You focus your eyes between his legs and his cock is leaking and begging for attention so you slowly, carefully walk across the floor. He’s on the top bunk, Zoro fast asleep beneath him. Luffy tilts his head to follow your every footstep, flushed and embarrassed still, but so excited all of a sudden. You gingerly climb the ladder, the set of bunks rocking a little which makes you freeze, but Zoro isn’t going to wake up, it’s fine.

Luffy scoots over a bit to make room for you, still twitching with nerves, still rubbing his dick a little. His lips are parted, shining with saliva.

Your hands slowly reach for his face, he’s still frozen but as your fingers stroke his cheeks he begins to smile, his eyes still begging, and at the smallest contact he groans and you shut him up with a kiss, pressing your lips to his quickly, eliciting a little squeak from Luffy, and a shiver that travels down through his stomach. Your legs are smooth against his as you slide closer, gathering him gently into your arms.

“[Name…]” he murmurs at last, drool coating his chin, eyes glossy.

And you say, “hi, Luffy,” under your breath. Reaching to hold his hand.

“Hi,” he says too loudly and you kiss him again and whisper a shhh into his mouth. Then you test the waters, you rest your hand over his knuckles where he grips himself, and Luffy practically spills his body over into yours with the promise of touch.

He bites your shoulder as he leans against you, heavy, sweaty, shivering like a little dog. His tongue rests against your skin and he makes some happy little noises, muffled by your body, you lift him to a better position and trace the curves of his knuckles.

So he lets go and lets your soft hands replace him. And there, this feels better. Luffy can relax and let his mind wander and your hands are so much more caring than his. Long, powerful, slow strokes. His skin vibrates and his cock is smelting iron under your touch, a kiln of white-hot sweat blooming beneath your fingers. He buries his face in your neck and looks up at you with huge, loving eyes, raw feeling overtaking his whole self. He reaches for your breasts and squeezes them to occupy his now free hands, he grounds himself in your soft flesh.

It’s a strange feeling, giving Luffy a handjob, because his skin stretches when you pull and you have to be more careful, but also more deep, squeezing with pressure and force so he can feel your movements and playing with him becomes like kneading dough.

He says something unintelligible and shoves his face up against yours as you continue to slowly stroke him off, you keep having to gently quiet him, he’s starting to forget where he is or at least not care anymore, those movements feel so good, this angelic massage.

He’s butter in your arms now, melting against you, he begins to nibble at your ear and writhe under you, his body unsure of what to do with itself now that he’s about to cum.

You’re not sure either and it’s too late now, you have to turn your attention to clutching his face and shoving your tongue into his mouth in a heated, long kiss so his yelling moan is lost in your throat. His cock spasms and he cums all over your night dress.

“Oh…” you whisper, flushed, looking down at the ribbons of white coating the blue velvet like sea foam. This is what waves are made of. Luffy is staring down at you too, curious, but he doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s made and just wants to hold you now.

“Don’t go. I’m gonna hold ya. I don’t want you to go yet.” His gravelly voice is loud again in your ear and you pause to look around the dark room, the men still fast asleep, the shadows still moving back and forth slowly on the walls.

You don’t even wipe off your dress. You just grab Luffy in a tight embrace, pulling the covers over the both of you and settling into his bunk, snuggling into him.

“Fuck it,” you whisper happily into his neck, “I don’t wanna keep watch tonight.”

[absurdthirst]

The Summoning {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: Single parenthood. mentions of sexual awakenings, trick or treating, jealousy, possessiveness, disgusting behavior, horrible exes, confessions, making out, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, praise, soft dom Frankie, cream pie.

Comments: After both of your ex's left, you and Frankie become back up for each other as you navigate single parenthood. Trick or treating together with your boys leads to horrific things - the return of the monster exes. You only have each other to help you survive.

A/N: Reader's costume is Leia Organa's white dress, but no mention of race or ethnicity is mentioned.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Alex, hurry up!” You call out to your son. “We need to get started trick or treating before it gets too dark!” You know that normally it’s the kids hassling the parents to go out and gather up pillowcases full of candy, but you are excited for this year. You don’t have to pull a wagon, or push a stroller, your son is old enough to want to go up to the doors alone to pick out his little treat and you had thought that your costume of Han Solo for him and Leia for you was particularly inspired. Glancing out the window, you see your neighbor, Frankie, setting out his bowl of candy on the porch. “Shit! The candy!” You hiss, having forgotten about your own bowl for the trick or treaters to grab while you are gone. 

Frankie makes sure his porch light is on as he sets the plastic pumpkin full of candy on the doorstep with a sign that says ‘take one only’. He doesn't want to be a Karen, but the bars are full sized. He wanted to be a cool dad for his son by getting the big bars. His son who is practically vibrating with excitement to get out of the house. Dressed as Grogu, the five year old is excited to trick or treat. "Hurry up, Papa!" He demands by the garage door and Frankie chuckles, reaching for his helmet after he shuts the front door. "You got your bucket, little man?" He asks his son, "yeah!" He cheers and Frankie places the helmet on his head before he ushers his son onto the driveway so he can shut the garage door. He turns towards your house, his next door neighbor that has him jerking off every damn day. You moved in around the same time he did. Your boyfriend left you around the same time his wife asked for a divorce and you have helped each other out. Babysitting and school drop offs. You've been his angel, his unbelievably beautiful angel that he has sex dreams about. Tonight, you are his wet dream come true. "Fuck." He hisses, glad for the helmet on his head as you walk down the sidewalk to his driveway, dressed as Leia Organa. Most men would be turned on by the outfit Leia wore when she was captured by Jabba the Hutt but Frankie...his fantasy was the white dress with the blaster in her hand. Capable. Feisty. Sexy. And here you are, dressed in that outfit.

“Hi!” The boys rush towards each other, throwing their arms around each other like it has been five years instead of about an hour since they had seen each other. You normally pick the kids up from school, getting Frankie’s son as well since he got off work later than you did. You bite your lip and grin at the two before trying to hide how sexy you think Frankie looks in the Mando uniform. You waggle your brows as he struts up to you confidently, that blank visor almost as sexy as you had imagined it when you watched The Mandalorian. “Well, Mando.” You greet him with a grin. “They say that armor makes the man.” You whistle playfully. “I don’t know if I need to be walking around you. You’ll be beating the women off with a stick.” Frankie is your perfect version of a man. Strong, kind, a good father. He’s the type that will mow the grass and cut your yard too and yet he apologizes when he needs to ask if you can watch his son while he takes another flight. His sexiness is only increased by a thousand percent knowing he’s a pilot. It’s hard to imagine him dating one day and you hate that it won’t be you. 

He chuckles, wiping his gloved hands on his pants, and shakes his head. He is glad he's used to wearing something on his face so he doesn't fog it up. "Yeah, while you are dressed as every guy's fantasy since 1977. You look amazing." He says and tilts his helmet, "this costume...it looks okay?" He asks while the boys tell each other how cool the other looks.

“Yeah, it is.” You admit, glancing up and down the costume. He got a really good one, it definitely wasn’t one of those cheap costumes he bought at Spirit. It was more of a cosplay costume and it makes you think of riding him while he’s wearing it. “It looks great.” You promise. “And Grogu is adorable.” You shift your attention back to the boys so you don’t embarrass yourself by drooling. “Are you guys going now? Do you want to trick or treat together?”

"Together!" Alejandro says and Frankie chuckles, reaching out to tug on the costume ears. "You good going together?" Frankie asks, knowing he'd be grateful to have company while Ale gets his candy. He will need a distraction from watching you walk in that damn costume but the kids will keep you occupied.

“Of course.” You scoff playfully and bat your lashes at him. “Help me, Mando.” You plead in the same tone Carrie Fisher had used as Leia. “You’re my only hope.” You know the night will be better in the company of your handsome neighbor and once you get your son to sleep, you will touch yourself thinking about the way he walks in that suit, how it seems to be natural on him.

Frankie bites his lip to smother the hiss that threatens to escape. His cock twitches under the suit and he inhales deeply to calm down. This is going to be a long night and he knows he will be jerking off in the shower after Ale is asleep. "This is the way." He deepens his voice and the boys cheer, gripping their bags as you set down the street to the first house.

You turn to check out the Halloween decorations in the yards, not wanting to have Frankie see how badly that change of tone affected you. You haven’t noticed how much his voice sounds like Mando’s. That’s just more fuel for the lust that is already out of control. “Okay, here’s the first house.” You call out cheerful, watching as the boys race up the walkway. “Remember your manners!”

The boys rush up to the door, ringing the doorbell, and Frankie chuckles when they shout "trick or treat!" at old man Jenkins. "How pissed off do you think he's gonna be by the end of the night?" He asks you as he turns his head, wishing he could see better in the damn helmet.

“He turns his light off in about thirty minutes.” You snort, glancing over at the helmet and it’s honestly disappointing not to look into those wonderful brown eyes he has. As soon as they get their candy, they are thundering back down the steps of the front porch and racing back over to the two of you. You lift a hand and wave at the old man. “Happy Halloween!” You call out. “And May the Force be with you!”

The old man waves back, “have fun kids.” He mutters as he closes his door, “he better make a move if she’s wearing that outfit. Every man’s fantasy.” The boys are already dragging you to the next house and you giggle, “we are gonna have to ration the candy.” Frankie nods, “they will be bouncing off the walls till Christmas.” The boys rush off down the walk of the next house and Frankie adjusts the belt of his costume, “so, uh, how was work today?”

“Work was long.” You admit with a shrug. “I would have rather been home with the boys, doing Halloween things.” Since your ex left, it seems like you have less time to really spend with your son on the fun projects but you haven’t been getting any money from him and child support enforcement is slow. “I wanted to make spooky pizzas for dinner but we didn’t get time.” You glance over at him. “Any flights today?”

Frankie sighs under his helmet, knowing that you’ve been struggling since your ex left. He wants to help out as much as possible and you are too proud to take money so he helps by looking after your son when he can. Ale loves it and he is happy to help. “Yeah. A few. One couple - either they are goths or really like Halloween - came dressed in all black and the guy proposed. It was romantic in its own way.” He chuckles, “they were happy and it kinda made me miss having a partner.” He confesses, “not that I miss Maria. She can go, well, you know, but I miss having someone there for the small things.”

“Yeah.” You snort. “I don’t miss He Who Shall Not Be Named, but I miss not being a single parent. I never thought he would quit being a father too.”

“He’s a - a barstool.” Frankie edits his curse when the kids rush back towards you both. “Yeah. A real barstool.” You scoff and you continue down the sidewalk to the next house. “Momma, look! I got Kit Kat!” Your son cheers as he holds up his treat and you smile, “that’s awesome, baby.” Frankie watches you with a smile concealed by the helmet. You’re such a good mother and you work hard for what you have. “I haven’t heard from Maria in so long. She just left town and - well, both of us deserved better.”

“I could never imagine just leaving Alejandro.” You murmur. You wouldn’t imagine leaving Frankie either, but that’s different. He is innocent and her child. You look at your son and could never leave him, no matter what. “Next house?” You ask the boys, who cheer happily, eager to get more candy.

Frankie walks alongside you as the boys chatter about their candy and he wishes again that this was his family. That he was with you and the boys were brothers. It’s impossible to make it a reality. He doesn’t want to ruin this great friendship he has with you. You’ve shared many nights together while the boys played. Watching movies as a group, having dinner, going bowling. It’s easy to imagine this being real. It’s too easy to love you and that terrifies him. He doesn’t want to get hurt again.

You enjoy listening to Frankie as he talks about his work and life. It’s easy and comfortable with him, almost scary how seamlessly he fits into your day to day life. Honestly, you don’t know how you would have survived your ex leaving you without Frankie’s help and his shoulder to cry on. You didn’t want the asshole back, he was right, you deserved better. But your son deserved his father and you can only thank Frankie for being a positive male influence for him now.

Frankie chuckles when the boys come rushing down the path towards you, buckets nearly overflowing. “I think we got enough candy.” He smirks just as Tony and his daughter appear. He’s dressed as Woody from Toy Story while his little girl, Sally, is dressed like Barbie. He’s a single parent but he has shared custody with his ex wife. He gets Sally on weekends. “Hey neighbors. You all look amazing. I freaking love Star Wars.” Tony grins and the kids start to compare candy while Tony drags his eyes along your form, “Leia was like my sexual awakening as a teenager.” He confesses with a chuckle, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You chuckle and shrug. “Wasn’t she everyone’s?” You ask, although you had definitely had a thing for Harrison Ford, you just wanted to be Leia. You look at Laurie and grin. “She’s a cute Barbie.” You compliment, although you don’t comment on his costume. “You had much luck tonight?”

Tony nods, “she’s gonna be bouncing off the walls for the entire weekend but I guess I can give her some candy and I’ll get to watch the game tomorrow. You watch football, Morales?” Tony asks Frankie, who shakes his helmet, “not really my thing.” He confesses, and Tony snorts, “probably more a Call of Duty kind of guy.” Frankie shakes his head, “I don’t really like to play games. Especially ones that remind me of combat.” He says and Tony doesn’t recognize the tone of his voice as his attention turns back to you, “listen, I, uh, I don’t have Sally on Friday. She’s having dinner with the ex bitch’s new boyfriend and he only has that night off. He’s a doctor.” He shakes his hands sarcastically, “and I wondered if you wanted to get dinner. Maybe Morales can watch your kid.”

You have to give him points for having the audacity to ask you out and proposition Frankie to watch your kid all in the same sentence, but it’s for all the wrong reasons. And the way Tony talks about his ex is disgusting, especially within earshot of Sally. You might have talked about your ex with Frankie, but you and Tony don’t have that kind of friendship. “Sorry.” You wince and try to look like you are sorry. “I’ve already made plans for the weekend.”

Frankie clenches his jaw under his helmet, wanting to grab Tony and tell him to fuck off but he isn’t that kind of guy. Instead, he reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist, dragging you against him. “Yeah. She has plans.” He says coolly to the other man whose eyes widen in understanding. “Good for you, man. Finally made a move.” He compliments, revealing how flippant he is, and Sally rushes over, “daddy! All the good candy is gonna go!” She whines and Tony sighs, “okay, honey. Come on. See you round, lovebirds.” He chuckles and walks off with his daughter. Frankie drops his hand from your waist, clearing his throat. “Sorry. I just - I figured you weren’t interested in him.”

“Don’t be.” You snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “I’d rather he believe I’m unavailable - forever.” You huff, wishing that you were off the market for that reason, but you don’t want to make Frankie think the only reason you’ve been helping him is so that you could get close to him. He has complained about some obvious moms at some do the school functions before. “Thank you, Francisco.”

Hearing you say his full name has his cock twitching but he pushes that aside, rubbing his gloved hands on his pants. “You ready to get the kids back? I have some snacks ready and we can watch a movie before they go to bed?” He suggests, having already agreed to watch the boys tonight so you can have some alone time.

“That would be good.” You agree, smiling at him through his helmet. “Something scary. I miss watching horror movies.” You admit. “I don’t like watching them all the time when I’m sleeping alone, but I’m going to do it tonight.” You laugh. “It’s Halloween after all.”

Frankie chuckles, “you’ll be fine. You pick the movie. I’ll handle our monsters.” He jokes as he calls out for the boys. “Time to head home. I’ll eat the unwanted candy.” He announces and Alejandro pouts, “papa. I want it all.” Frankie looks in his bag, “even the Almond Joy?” He raises his eyebrows even though no one can see. “Yeah.” Ale pouts and Frankie chuckles, “who the hell gives out Almond Joy on Halloween?” He scoffs as you make your way back to his house.

You giggle quietly. “I like Almond Joy.” You admit, grinning when he gives you a look of horror. “Not an almond fan or coconut fan?” You ask, remembering how much he had raved over your Italian crème cake you had made for spring. It definitely had coconut in it. You wonder if he had just been polite about it.

"I like the flavors but not almond joy. It's like the flax seed of candy. Doesn't taste naughty enough." He smirks but you can't see it. He reaches for his helmet, taking it off when you walk up his driveway and he punches the code in the pad to open the garage door.

You hum as the boys both race towards the interior garage door to go into the house. Gasping when the door opens before they get to it, and your entire body jolts in shock when you see Frankie’s ex standing in the doorway, smiling widely at Alejandro. “Baby boy!” She cries, crouching down and opening her arms wide for a hug.

Frankie freezes, almost dropping the helmet in his hand as he stares at Maria kneeling in the doorway, hugging the son she left behind. He swallows harshly, glancing at you, and he straightens his back. "Maria. What - what are you doing here?" He asks and she kisses Alejandro's hair while your son comes to your side. "I'm here to see my baby boy." She coos as she cuddles her son. "I, uh, I didn't know - you didn't call. You've been gone for eighteen months." He says with a bite to his tone.

“Well I’m back now.” She replies breezily, as if she had just been late getting home from the store. Your stomach twists, knowing how broken up Frankie had been when she left and now she’s back. You call your son over to your side. “Come on, buddy.” You murmur quietly, knowing the plans have changed. “We need to get home.”

Frankie turns to look at you, "can you take Ale? I need to talk to her." He asks and you nod, "of course." Alejandro steps back from his mom. She left him and he asked where she was every damn day for a month so now, Frankie is pissed at her. "Wait. I want to see my son." Maria pouts and Frankie shakes his head, "we need to talk." He tells Alejandro to go eat some candy at your house and he is eager to go, rushing off with you and your son to inspect their loot. Frankie closes the garage door and ushers a pouting Maria into the house. "What are you doing here?" He asks, setting the helmet down on the counter.

“I live here.” Maria tells Frankie, who scoffs and shakes his head. “You haven’t lived here for eighteen fucking months.” He reminds her. Sighing, she sends him a puppy dog look that used to melt any resistance he had towards her. “I missed you,” she pouts softly, stepping closer and running her hand down the armor plate on his chest. “This is shiny.” She coos, hoping to seduce him and put him in a better mood. Frankie is always pliable after cumming.

Frankie takes her hand and pushes it away, she can’t melt him with that face any more. “You left. Without a word. Ale asked about you for a fucking month and I didn’t even have an answer for him. I heard you were seen with his pediatrician. I took him for his check up and the man had the fucking audacity to smirk when he fake asked me where you were. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. It’s over, Maria. I don’t wanna hear your excuses. I don’t want to listen to you beg and plead to come back. We are doing fine without you. I packed up your things. They are in the guest room. Get your shit and get out of my house. I’ll see you in court for custody.” He says with as much calm as he can muster but his eyes are piercing.

Maria frowns and bites her lip. “But that was a mistake, baby.” She whines softly. “I- I was being foolish. I didn’t realize what I had.” The plain truth was that he had dumped her. Told her that he was bored and it was time to move on. The trade up that she had been expecting lasted a short time and then she had been sent packing. “I realize that now and we can be a family again.”

Frankie scoffs, “you cheated on me, left me and our son without even a note, and you expect me to take you back? I’ve fought in the most dangerous places on the planet and I’d sooner be dropped back there than get back together with you. We are done. Go back to wherever you crawled out from. My lawyer will be serving divorce papers and I want majority if not full custody of our son.” He says with a clenched jaw, ready for her to be out of his house. All that time he thought he had driven her away but she is the reason she left, not him. She was greedy and wanted more. “Leave now before I call the police.”

This time, Maria’s face twists into an angry scowl. “You can’t do this, Francisco.” She sneers. “This is my house too. And there’s no way a court would give you custody with your record.” She taunts, smirking viciously. “Drug charges aren’t good for custody battles.”

“You left. You left without a word and I’m clean. I go to meetings. I go to therapy. Damn sure had to do more of it after you left. I’ve been here for our son. I provide for our son. I own this house. You moved in with me, remember? Leave now. You can’t intimidate me.” He promises, crossing his arms.

Gritting her teeth, Maria fumes that he’s not falling at her feet, happy that she’s giving him another chance. “This isn’t the end of this, Francisco.” She hisses, pushing past him to the door. “You’re gonna regret this.”

Frankie watches her go, exhaling in relief when the door shuts. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want his wife back but he hates that she hurt him so much. He’s been in battles, taken bullets, taken lives, and nothing affected him more than being left by his wife. He knows he fucked up when he got into coke. A mistake he made when Alejandro got really sick. He was in hospital with an infection and they weren’t sure if he was gonna make it. Frankie went off the deep end but he crawled his way back to be the husband and father he should’ve been. Maria repaid him by leaving and cheating on him. He gathers his thoughts and decides to make his way over to your place. He needs a drink and someone to talk to.

You’ve been trying not to think about what is happening next door since you shuffled the kids into your house. You’ve had them dump their buckets and helped them go through the candy, throwing out any that had been opened and explaining why it was necessary. Hating how your stomach is churning and you want to look over there, but you don’t. Finally allowing them to pick out three pieces of candy to eat before bed, you laugh when both boys choose the full sized candy bars they had gotten from Frankie’s candy bowl. “Alright, but you will only have that one.” You warn. 

Frankie comes over, knocking on your door despite him having the code. He doesn’t want to intrude after he has spent ten minutes calming down. You answer the door and he inhales deeply, his dark eyes soft as he looks at you with worry on your face. “She’s gone.” He murmurs, “I sent her away.”

“That was a surprise.” It’s an understatement but you don’t want to insult her if he’s going to get back together with her. “Alejandro keeps asking about her.” You glance back at the boys as they sit at the table. “She coming back tomorrow?”

Frankie shakes his head, "I told her to get her shit from the garage and leave. I am not getting back together with her. She cheated on me in my darkest moment. She was supposed to stand by my side. I cannot - we are done. I don't love her and I will fight to keep Ale from her. You can't pick and choose when you can be a parent." He curls his upper lip in disgust and looks over at the boys, "am I doing the right thing? Sending her away from him?"

“You are.” You assure him, feeling guilty for it, but you are relieved. You don’t want him to get back together with a woman who is so selfish to leave her son. “Think about how upset Ale will be when she disappears again.”

Frankie nods, "I - I can't let her hurt him again. When she left the first time, he was so upset." He murmurs as the boys look over at him and Alejandro rushes over to him. "Papa! Where's mama?" He asks and Frankie swallows, kneeling down to talk to his son. "Mama had to leave. She - she lives in another house. She will talk to you soon." He vaguely promises and sighs when Ale pouts in disappointment but it's better this way. "She left again?" He asks and Frankie nods, "yeah. It's okay though. Show me what candy you got." He distracts the little boy who grins and grabs his hand to drag him over to the table to show him his loot.

You watch the two of them, your heart aching for the little boy, although you know he will be better for this. His mother drifting in and out of his life would do him no good. “They really raked in the candy.” You walk over and ruffle your son’s hair affectionately.

Frankie chuckles, “we will have to ration them. Are you okay having them tonight? We can put them to bed and watch that scary movie but I doubt anything is gonna be as scary as Maria showing up.” He chuckles sarcastically as he watches the boys.

“No, you deserve to get drunk.” You snort, it’s a change from him having the kids, but that’s okay. “Maybe go out and have some fun.”

He shakes his head, “nah. I’d rather be here watching a movie with you unless you wanna be alone?” He asks, tilting his head towards you in case you want to be on your own.

“No.” You shake your head. “I’d rather watch a movie with you than be alone.” You bite your lip, watching him sigh softly and look back towards Alejandro again. “It will be okay.” You promise, putting your hand on his costumed arm.

He sighs and glances down at his outfit, “good thing there’s sweats under the armor.” he chuckles and ruffles his son’s hair, “come on mijo. Time for bed.” He orders and Alejandro pouts, “but I want to have another piece of candy.” Frankie shakes his head, “you can have some candy tomorrow. Come on, we can put an episode of Mandalorian on for you.”

You also usher your son to bed through the protests, although they are fewer now that he knows Alejandro will be spending the night. You keep a toothbrush for the other boy and soon their teeth are brushed and you’ve promised they can sleep in the core of their costumes, without any of the ties and toys.

The boys snuggle into the sheets as you kneel on the bed to put on an episode of The Mandalorian. “One episode. The TV is on a timer and I have the remote so sleep as soon as it’s over, okay?” You say and they nod, “yes mommy.” Your son says and Frankie comes in to say goodnight to his son after he’s gotten comfortable taking his shoes and costume off.

You kind of hate that he has taken off the costume, it was hot. You step back and wonder if you should change out of the Leia outfit, since he was dressing down. But before you can decide, you hear the doorbell and a chorus of “trick or treat!” Coming from the front porch. “Oh, I’ll get them.” You had forgotten to turn off the light and the candy bowl was empty.

Frankie watches you head to the front door, older kids standing there with buckets and you hold your finger up. “Hold on, kids. I have another bag.” You promise and rush into the kitchen. Frankie makes his way to the front door to see the kids, “you’ve got some cool costumes.” He smiles, looking at the excited teenagers. He remembers those days. So eager to grow up and now, he’d give anything to regain that kind of innocence.

“Thanks.” Happy to just not be hassled for being “too old to trick or treat”, the kids stand patiently while you rush over with a bag of candy and start handing it out. “Happy Halloween!” They thunder back down the stairs and out into the dark night, laughing and chattering happily about their candy haul.

Frankie chuckles, "I miss those days sometimes until I remember how awkward I was and I couldn't even talk to a girl." He admits after you close the door.

“You?” You scoff, sending him a dubious look. “I doubt that. I’ve seen pictures of you from boot camp, you were so cute. There’s no way you didn’t have a girlfriend or several in high school.”

Frankie blushes a little at your compliment, “I was super awkward. I could barely say hi to a woman. It wasn’t until boot camp that I lost my virginity to this girl who worked at the local bar and I was kinda a late bloomer.” He admits and watches you for a moment. “You got any popcorn, sweetheart? I can get the movie set up.”

You know that he’s a little uncomfortable, but you nod, giving him a minute. “Sure. Kettle corn alright?” You know it is, it’s his favorite. He nods and you go into the kitchen to get the popcorn started, putting together a little tray of food to go along with the snack. Knowing Frankie, he hasn’t eaten dinner and he should.

He turns on the TV and finds the app to open for the scary movie and he calls out “what do you wanna watch?” just as the doorbell rings and Frankie frowns, knowing it’s too late for trick or treaters now.

“Who the hell could that be?” You had turned off the light and frown as you come out of the kitchen. Frankie stands up but you wave him off. “I’ll get it.” You promise, opening the door and your eyes widen in shock at the sight of your ex boyfriend standing in the doorway.

Frankie frowns when he hears your gasp and he stands up, “what’s going on? Who is that?” He asks with concern lacing his voice. He walks over to the door and his frown deepens when he sees your ex standing there.

“What are you doing here?” You demand and he holds up his key ring. “Why the fuck doesn’t my key work?” He answers, making you scoff. “I changed the locks when you decided you were leaving.” You tell him. “You don’t get to just walk back into my house whenever you want.”

Frankie clenches his jaw, pissed that your asshole ex is back on the scene. Tonight really is a demonic event. He steps back, heart aching because he knows you might want to get back together with him. You’d mentioned how lonely you are and how you miss having a partner.

His eyes shift to Frankie behind you. Narrowing slightly in recognition. “What the fuck is he doing here?” Your ex puffs up, like he’s trying to be intimidating, but he just manages to look like a fool. “Frankie is here because I want him to be.” You snap. “Unlike you. So I’ll ask again, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Frankie doesn’t like his tone and he hovers. “I am here to see my son. I want to come home.” Your ex demands, “this is my house. I want to come back.” He says with his jaw clenched, “and you should let me come home now. It’s been long enough.”

“Not a fucking chance.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “It’s too late to wake him up and you haven’t seen him in a year and a half. A YEAR AND A HALF!” You hiss angrily. “You aren’t coming back home. Your home is with whatever slut you were sleeping with.”

Frankie puffs his chest, angry for you, and he shakes his head at the audacity. “You can’t keep him from me.” Your ex growls and you shake your head, “you left. You left him. And me. For some slut that works at the shop.” Your ex scoffs, “she was good for sucking cock, that’s all.”

“And yet you threw away our relationship and didn’t see your son this entire time.” He must have gotten dumped. “He’s asleep and I’m watching a movie, so you need to leave.”

Your ex exhales through his nose, “this ain’t over. I’ll be back. He’s my son. You are mine. I won’t just give that up.” He growls and spins on his heel, stalking down the path to his truck.

“When you come back, why don’t you bring me a check for the last year and a half of child support!” You call after him, slamming the door and throwing the lock for good measure, unable to believe the audacity of that asshole. “Fucking prick!” You hiss to yourself.

Frankie clenches his jaw and flexes his fingers, tempted to head outside to find that prick. “I’m so sorry. I guess tonight if truly the fucking night of demonic appearances.” He scoffs and reaches for your hand, “do you wanna talk about?”

“We need a fucking drink.” You decide, turning back towards the kitchen to change the hot chocolate you were going to make for something stronger. “You think they planned this shit together?” You ask him, yanking a bottle of wine out of the fridge.

Frankie sighs, following you, “I don’t know. I think - I think they both had a feeling that we were finally happy without them and they decided to show up and fuck with us.” He snorts, walking over to you as you pour out the wine. “You sure you’re okay? I know he hurt you.”

“I’m mad for Alex.” It had always amused you that the boys had such similar names, especially since you and Frankie were the ones to pick them out. They always claimed there were twins and a few times, you wished that was true. So you could be with Frankie. “He just decides when he gets to be a father? He was a shit boyfriend, but I thought he loved his son.”

Frankie can’t help it. He reaches for you to pull you into his arms. “Come here, sweetheart. He’s an asshole. Don’t let him get under your skin. You have custody of Alex and there’s nothing he can do about it. Except pay his fucking child support.”

You lean into his hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and sighing. Breathing in the warm and safe scent of your neighbor. Hating how it instantly relaxes you and turns you on at the same time. “I fucking hate it.” You huff. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve wished you were Alex’s dad.”

Frankie kisses your hair, “me too. I wish - so many times I’ve imagined us as a family. You’re such a good mother. Exactly what Ale deserves and he loves you so much. I- I love you so much.” He reveals against your hair, closing his eyes as he prepares for your rejection.

“Oh Francisco….” You murmur softly, hugging him tighter before you pull away to look him in the eyes. “I love you too.” You confess, smiling at the way his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “I have been crushing on you since you moved in, but I really started falling for you once we were single parents together, helping each other out.”

Your loving gaze makes his heart pound in his chest and he knows this is real. You’ve both turned down your exes tonight and he can’t help himself. He cups your cheek and surges forward to press his lips to yours. Every emotion he’s felt for you comes out in full force as he pours himself into the kiss.

It’s passionate, hot, and even sweet all mingled together. You moan in relief, feeling the emotion course through you as you wind your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Waiting for this moment for so long has made you ravenous for him.

He groans into your mouth as you cling to him, making him realize that this is real. He’s kissing you. You love him. His fantasy is coming true and that makes him growl into your mouth, tongue sliding between your lips while his hands slide down to squeeze your ass.

You shiver, always suspecting that Frankie is a very physical man and it’s thrilling to find out how right you are. He might claim to have been shy as a boy, but the man he is now has no problem touching you. Your hands slide down his back and you roll your hips against a hardness that is rapidly growing and making you drip in anticipation.

Frankie groans into your mouth as he walks you backwards towards your sofa. Netflix is still on the TV and he sits down, dragging you into his lap. When you straddle him and press down onto his bulge, he groans your name and grabs your ass again. “Fucking love this costume.” He admits, “was gonna jerk off thinking about you wearing it.”

You giggle, pressing your lips to his jaw and scraping your teeth over his skin. He’s got a lovely little five o’clock shadow of hair and you know it will feel so good against your skin. “Me too.” You hum. “Disappointed you took your costume off. Mando could have fucked Leia.”

“Shit. I could go back to the house but I don’t think I can. I - I want you, baby. If you wanna eat popcorn and watch a movie and make out I’m happy for that but if you want, I wanna spread you out and lick at your pussy like I’ve dreamed of doing so many goddamn times before I make you cum on my cock.”

You groan, nodding breathlessly. “Take me to bed, Francisco.” You order, leaning in and kissing him hard on the mouth before pulling away. “I’ve been tested, had to after finding out he was cheating. I’m clean.”

Frankie groans when you shuffle off his lap. "I'm clean too. Got tested after she left and I haven't -" He cuts himself off as he stands and he watches you, growling as the need overwhelms him again and he bends over, wrapping his arms around your thighs to lift you over his shoulder.

Squealing in surprise turns to laughter, echoing down the hall and you can only hope you don’t wake the boys. “Caveman!” You giggle, smacking his ass as he strides down the hallway to your bedroom. He knows which one is yours, he’s been in it to fix the sink in your bathroom. “Fuck that’s so hot.” You moan, cunt clenching around nothing. “Dragging me off to fuck me.”

Frankie pushes your bedroom door open with his foot and throws you onto your bed after he kicks the door shut. He watches you bounce on your bed and he reaches for your ankle, "so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, sliding his hand along your calf.

There’s an appeal to his roughness. You don’t mind a little bit of manhandling at all, especially when it’s tempered with praise. “Goddamn you are sexy.” You groan, licking your lips as your eyes slide down to where his sweats are tented by his hard cock. “I swear to God I wouldn’t have survived you in a fucking uniform.”

He chuckles, “I still have my uniforms.” He smirks, “maybe we can have another costume night.” He teases and slides his hand higher until he’s pressing his fingers against your covered cunt. “Fuck. Can feel how wet you are.” He murmurs, his eyes focused on where his fingers are until they flick up to look at you. His hand slides up to squeeze your breast through your costume and he groans your name.

“Frankie, fuuuuuuuck.” You whine, pressing your hips down and wishing that there was nothing between the two of you. “I need you baby.” You beg softly. “Been turned on since I saw you in your costume and it’s only gotten worse. My clit is throbbing.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll suck on it.” He smirks as he reaches for the waistband, dragging the leggings you wore underneath the dress down to expose your panties beneath. “Take the top off.” He orders as he tosses the white bottoms over his shoulder.

You moan, sitting up and dragging your costume over your head and unclipping your bra after reaching behind you. “Fuck, I need you baby.”

He nods, “you’ve got me.” He promises as he leans back to admire your body. “Shit. You’re better than I imagined.” He confesses and groans as he shifts to kneel between your legs. “Fuck, you smell so good.” He murmurs as he kisses your stomach up to your breast. He slides his tongue along the underside of your tit until he takes your nipple into his mouth.

You moan, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his mouth on you. “Frankie.” You gasp his name when he toys with your nipple with his teeth. “So good.”

He loves how you writhe under him and he’s barely gotten started. He groans against your skin, cock aching in his sweats but thankfully not as confined as jeans. He squeezes himself while his other hand trails along your thigh until he’s sliding his fingers through your folds.

“More.” You beg, already needing more from him and he’s barely touched you. “You don’t- you can just fuck me.” You bargain. You don’t want him to do it just because he feels like he has to. You’d rather you both enjoy sex, even if you probably won’t cum.

Frankie offers you a scoff and a shake of his head. “You have any idea how many goddamn times I’ve imagined you spread out like this? I’m gonna enjoy it.” He promises as he kisses down your stomach, “I want to taste you. Make you cum on my tongue. And my fingers. And my cock.” He murmurs between kisses until he’s between your thighs. He pushes them further apart to see your cunt properly. “Fuck. So pretty.” He murmurs before he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds.”

The way you keen should be a crime. He pulls it out of you with the flick of his tongue and the skill of his mouth. This is a man who enjoys eating pussy, not just viewing it as a chore. You moan his name, reaching down and twisting your fingers in the bedspread as he takes you apart lick by lick.

He loves how you taste. Tangy and sweet like a candy and he sucks your clit between his lips. His dark eyes watch you as he makes you moan, his hands sliding up so he can palm your tits, squeezing them until he pinches your nipples.

You bite your lip when you look down at him, his dark eyes focused on you like you are the only thing in the world. You love it, moaning his name again, you reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair.

Frankie groans, loving the way you tug on his hair as he laps at your clit. He desperately wants you to fall apart for him. He needs to taste your cum before he slides into you. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs before he sucks on your clit, his hand finding yours to squeeze it.

He is the beautiful one. Gorgeous between your thighs and looking up at you. You moan his name again and roll your hips down to meet his mouth. “Fuck, Frankie!”

He grabs your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders so he feels smothered by you. He wants to drink you down, make you scream his name. He groans into your flesh when you tug on his hair again when he pushes his tongue into your pussy.

He grabs your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders so he feels smothered by you. He wants to drink you down, make you scream his name. He groans into your flesh when you tug on his hair again when he pushes his tongue into your pussy.

You whine, feeling your entire body lurching and bucking in pleasure as he pushes his tongue deep. “Frankie!” You squeal, eyes closed tight and you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.

Your squeal makes his cock twitch, pre-cum soaking his sweats as he slides his tongue through your folds, pushing it deep again until he decides to flick the tip of his tongue over your clit. Eyes closed as he enjoys this moment that he’s imagined so many damn times.

He’s relentless, pushing his tongue deeper and curling it up. He wants you to fall apart, that is obvious from the determined set of his jaw. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’ve never - ever had someone be this eager.” You pant, unable to breathe he is flicking his tongue so deep inside you.

He pulls back to a second to look up at you, “then you’ve been sleeping with fucking idiots.” He growls before he dives back in, wanting to watch you fall apart for him before he slides inside you. His hands squeeze your flesh, his tongue pushing deep until his nose presses against your clit.

It’s hard to imagine sleeping with anyone better. Gasping when his prominent nose nudges you. His tongue quickly works you back up towards the edge and with one more flick of his tongue, you are sent spiraling, crying out loudly as you fall apart.

He holds you down as you spasm beneath his tongue. He’s aching, pressing into the mattress as he laps up every drop of your pleasure. He loves it. He loves you. “That’s it, baby.” He says between laps of his tongue until you’re pushing him away.

Your chest is heaving, breath heavy as your thighs shake and your cunt quivers in pleasure. “Oh fuck.” You moan. “Oh fuck, you’re so good. You’re so good, baby.” You praise, reaching down and needing to kiss him.

He shuffles up your body to press his lips to yours, his cock pressing against your thigh through his sweats and he’s so hungry for you. His tongue slides into your mouth, loving how you moan and taste yourself on his tongue while his hand cups your breast.

You want him. Reaching down, you hook your fingers under the waistband of his sweats and try to push them down, eager to touch him, to have him inside you. Gone is any worry about messing this up, you just need him.

When your fingers wrap around his cock, he groans and presses his forehead to your chin, watching your fingers squeeze him and he pants, “hold on, babe. Let me - let me take them off.” He pleads and you release him, letting him shift off the bed to kick off his sweats while he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Fuck, you are so gorgeous.” You moan, pressing your thighs together before spreading them wide in invitation. You want him to hurry up and fuck you. Needing that thick cock inside you. “That cock- fuck Francisco.” You whine. “I need it inside me.”

Frankie groans, wrapping his fingers around his cock as he kneels on the bed and shuffles closer. “You need it? Tell me how much you need it.” He demands, his free hand sliding through your slicked up folds.

“So bad, it hurts.” You promise him. “My pussy hurts, it’s so empty.” You probably aren’t making any sense, but you ache for him. Needing him to fill you up. “Fuck me, baby, I need you to fuck me.”

He chuckles at your whiny tone, loving it after imagining so many times how good you’d feel around him. He shifts closer, his slick fingers squeezing your thigh as he slides the head of his cock through your folds. Your whine is louder until it transforms into a moan as he starts to push into you, slowly stretching you out.

“Ohhhhhh godddddddd.” Your head tilts back and your eyes close as he fills you. Managing to scrub against every nerve inside your sensitive pussy and sink impossible deep. “So good.” You gasp, hands on his shoulders and fingernails digging into his skin slightly.

He shifts closer, resting his weight on his elbows, and he leans in to kiss along your neck. "So goddamn good around me. Always imagined you would be. So fucking perfect." He murmurs between kisses as he shifts his weight so he can caress your thigh.

He’s so fucking big inside you. Your walls are pulsing around him and every time he twitches, it feels like he’s poking against your cervix. “Fuck, move baby.” You beg, wanting him to wreck you. “Show me how you’ve imagined me.”

He nods, biting down on your chin as he squeezes your thigh, lifting it up higher, and he rocks into you. He’s slow and methodical. Loving the way you whimper when he pushes deep. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin as he kisses your jaw.

Your fingers caress his shoulders and you sigh softly. “I love you too.” You breathe out quietly, feeling your heart swell happily. Your legs slide up high on his hips and then hook behind his ass. “So much.”

Frankie loves how you push on his ass to make him sink even deeper inside you. He groans, rocking into you a little faster, and he presses his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

It’s not as fast or as hard as you have imagined before, but it’s perfect. You feel everything and the emotions have you nearly tearing up as he kisses you like it’s the last thing he will do. Pulling him closer and kissing him back just as eagerly.

He loves how you feel around him, beneath him, and he rocks into you like he has all the time in the world. Slow and deep. "Feel good?" He asks against your jaw, voice raspy from emotion.

“Sooooo good.” He has no idea what he does to you, what he is doing to you. “You’re perfect, Frankie.” You turn your head and kiss up his jaw and then back down again, nipping his skin slightly.

"You're perfect." He murmurs, closing his eyes as you nip at his skin. His pace increases, his hand sliding under you to get you even closer to him.

You moan, feeling so connected to him right now. It’s like the two of you are one whole together. “You -You’re perfect.” You pant, gasping for breath as he steals it from you.

Frankie doesn’t respond, he wants to show you how perfect he thinks you are. You’ve been his rock since his ex left and he knows you’ll be there no matter what happens next. He rocks into you a little faster, adjusting the angle with each thrust as he tries to find the spot that makes you cry out. When he finds it, he groans at the way you clench around him, and he focuses on it. He wants you to fall apart for him.

He has to be the perfect lover. You cling to him, moaning and whining every time he pushes against that perfect spot deep inside you. He seems to love hearing your sounds so you don’t hold back. “Fuck, fuck baby, I love you.”

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel it. Squeeze me. Fuck - wanna feel you cum for me.” He demands, focusing on that spot with a determination that matches when he’s flying.

It doesn’t take long to do exactly as he says. The insistent push of his hips and the strategic angle that he’s shredding up into you sends you over the edge with a sharp howl of his name as your vision goes white and stars bursts behind your eyes.

Frankie watches you as you fall apart beneath him and shit, it's gorgeous. Your eyes roll back and your body shakes beneath him as you enjoy the pleasure that rushes through your body. "So fucking beautiful." He murmurs and slows his pace, helping you ride through it while he kisses along your jaw.

You moan his name, almost upset that he’s slowed down. “Baby, I want to feel you cum.” You whimper, turning and pressing your lips to his and enjoying the way he groans into your mouth. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Not yet.” He groans, pulling out of you and you whine. He slaps your thigh, “hands and knees. Wanna make you cum again.” He demands, “wanna feel it one more time before I fill you up.” He squeezes his cock, slick with your juices.

“Oh god.” You huff, rolling over to your stomach and coming up on your hands and knees. You hadn’t expected multiple positions the first time around, but he’s full of surprises. “Fuck me baby.” You beg, looking back over your shoulder at him as you shake your ass enticingly.

He can’t resist smacking your ass with his free hand, squeezing the flesh as he shuffles closer to you. He groans your name as he slides his cock through your dripping folds. “Gonna make you cum again.” He promises as he pushes into you.

You groan in pleasure, your already fluttering cunt greedy for another orgasm. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve cum from anything except your toy and now you are being spoiled. “Gonna get me addicted.” You pant.

He chuckles, caressing your lower back, “that’s the point, babe.” He grabs your hips so he can start pulling out of you until he slams his hips against your ass, loving the way it jiggles and he can’t help pressing his thumb against your puckered hole.

You choke out his name, surprised by the action but you don’t pull away. You can’t, not when it feels so good. He’s downright filthy and you love it

He rocks into you, his other hand sliding down to rub your clit as he bends over you. He wants you to cum again for him and he wants to fill you up.

His chest is pressing into your back, pushing you down and you love how he feels. Surrounding you, overwhelming you. He’s completely in control and his fingers are pushing you towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck. Pussy feels so good around me. Knew it would. Jesus, you’re so perfect. Wanted you for so long. Jerked off so many times imagining you.” He murmurs, groaning your name when your walls flutter around him. “That’s it. Cum for me. Wanna feel it again.”

You collapse down onto the bed, pressing your cheek to the cool sheets as he hammers into you. Squealing and moaning every time his hips slap sharply into your ass. He pinched your clit and you lurch forward, crying out in pleasure again.

“Fuck. That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, rubbing your clit for a few more seconds before he slides his hand from beneath you. He grabs your ass, squeezing the flesh as he pushes into you over and over again. “Fuck. I’m gonna - I’m gonna. Gonna cum.” He warns you through gritted teeth as he closes his eyes when he can’t hold on any longer.

You feel his hips stutter, slamming into you one last time and grinding deep, the heat of his cum flooding your pussy walls and filling you up. It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt and you moan his name while he rides out his high, clenching down around him again.

Frankie leans over you, pressing his forehead against your back and he presses a soft kiss to your skin as he tries to catch his breath. His cock twitches inside you and he can't believe that just happened.

You melt into the bed, bringing him with you as he collapses on top of you. “Could sleep just like this.” You groan happily, closing your eyes and sighing softly.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder, and he pulls out of you. He groans as he watches his cum well up between your folds. “So fucking pretty.” He murmurs, “everywhere.” He sighs as he flops to lay down beside you.

“You are pretty.” You hum, eyes still closed but there is a smile on your face. “We should have done that months ago. Maybe even a year.” You crack one eye open to look over at him in his gloriously disheveled state. “Fuck, you look even better post sex.”

He looks at you and chuckles, rubbing his chest that’s slick with sweat. “You do too. Yeah, we definitely should’ve done that earlier. But we have tons of time to make up for it.” He smirks, knowing the boys will be having lots of sleepovers now.

“Yeah?” You lean over and press your lips to his shoulder before rolling over to curl into him. “Plan on spending a lot of time in bed, Morales?” You tease.

He wraps his arm around you and he kisses your forehead. “Hell yeah. We got a lot of time to make up for.” He chuckles and enjoys the way you caress his chest. “And I want to go on a proper date. Like get Kelly down the street to babysit and we can dress up to go for dinner.”

“Fancy.” You tease, although it’s a very sweet sentiment. “I would go on a date with you. Of course.” Frankie dressed up would be so sexy and you haven’t been out in so long.

Frankie smiles, “good. I want to spoil you. You deserve so much better than that asshole.” He scoffs, “you deserve the damn world and I’m gonna give it to you.” He promises, turning his head to nudge your nose with his.

“Yeah?” You nudge him back and grin. “Why don’t we start with getting some of that leftover Halloween candy to share and we can go from there.”

“Fuck yes.” Frankie grins, “I’ll get the candy. You want a beer?” He asks and you nod. He shuffles off the bed and grabs his sweats, pulling them on before he disappears to your kitchen to grab some snacks. He pauses by the boys, slowly opening the door to see them both asleep and he shuts it softly. He can’t help but smile, his cheeks aching from how happy he is. He finally feels like things are happening for a reason. He has you, you love him, you have the boys and they are like brothers already. Despite your exes showing up like a goddamn demonic summoning, you and Frankie are together and that is definitely not a trick. It’s the best treat he’s ever gotten.

[pinejayy]

➤ being needy and horny || one piece men

- Riding his thigh and mumbling how much you need him inside of you “Please…sweetheart I need you. Please do something.” And as you’re riding his thigh you moan softly as you feel your clit rub against his pants, he smirks at your reaction, your sweet whimpers and moans are music. “Come you can beg better than that. Come on dear ~ Tell me what you need.” He whispered against your ear, dragging his lips across your neck and nibbling onto the soft skin. And if you finish on his leg he’ll shake his head “Look at the mess you made, naughty pet.” And slowly he would insert one finger into your needy hole, moving slow. “Beg…for it.”

dracule mihawk, shanks, portgas d. ace, trafalgar law.

- “Haha…look at the needy horny bitch?” He mumbled as he sat on the edge of his bed, with you between his legs on your knees. He smirks as he grabs his cock and slaps you slightly with it. “Let’s see how much you want it.” Grabbing your hair and forcing you to take in his full length down your throat, and letting out a deep chuckle as he heard you gag around his length. As your bobbing your head up and down, you were getting wetter by the lewd sounds that was coming out from his mouth and slowly your hand started to trail down to dripping core and before you could do anything he yanked you away and smirks. “Touching yourself without permission? Looks like someone needs to be punished.”

eustass kid, sir crocodile, rob lucci, arlong.

- Walking behind him as he was sitting down minding his own business, wrapping your arms around his neck leaning in and placing kisses along his neck. “Please I’m so horny-” You didn’t have a chance to finish your sentence before he quickly turned around and threw you on his shoulder and took you straight to the bedroom before stripping you from your clothes. And before you could react he’s already between your legs eating like there’s no tomorrow. Licking your wet folds, and dragging his tongue across your clit making you arch your back. Moaning his name as you tug onto his hair. “So fucking good, so needy…taste so fucking good.” And he’s going to eat you for hours until a whimpering mess.

vinsmoke sanji, roronoa zoro, sabo.

- His soft grunts and moans filled the room, as your head bobs up and down on his hard member. “Fuck….your mouth feels good…so good dear.” He couldn’t help but tug onto your hair. Moaning around his member you couldn’t help but rub your needy clit. “And touching yourself too.” He grunts, biting his lip holding back his moan. It was a beautiful sight. His cock wrapped around your pretty little lips while you’re teasing yourself. He couldn’t but moan your name under his breath. And after awhile he came undone, cumming down your throat. Swallowing everything and pulling away and opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out making him blush. “Can I return the favor?” He asked shyly, he was red as a tomato but you couldn’t help but blush and slowly nod your nod.

franky, usopp, donquixote rosinante (corazon), buggy the clown, charlotte katakuri.

- This crusty dirty pink rat is only going to think about himself and himself only. Oh you’re horny? Well that’s too bad you better get on your knees and take his cock like a good girl. He doesn’t care if you’re crying and begging for some kind of pleasure and honestly he’s gonna laugh at your face if you’re crying. “I can’t believe you’re that horny that you’re crying.” He mocked you. But if he’s feeling nice or you’ve been a really good girl he’ll gladly take his time with you in the bedroom for the night. He’ll make you cum with his tongue and by god this evil man knows how to use his fingers. He’ll make sure you’re screaming his name. He doesn’t care if anyone hears your moans.

donquixote doflamingo.

- Please give this adorable innocent man a hug and a kiss on the check. And he loves cuddles and cute dates!! He actually loves showing you off to his friends and a certain cook gets jealous. But yes please show this man love and affection. Lots of sweet words and he’ll gladly share his food with you because you’re so special!! And please buy him a lot of meat. He’ll love you to the the very end!! uwu

monkey d. luffy.

[elliesmainhoe]

"SAPPHO"

Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: Ellie pulls up outside of your house, ready to take you on a first date.

warnings: none, fluff, pining?

DAY 3 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

WC 560

nerves drifted through Ellie, she could hear her heartbeat echo around her head, hands shaking as she gripped the wheel harder, car slowing down as the GPS began to beep.

every house on your street looked the same, pretty blue suburbans with perfectly manicured flower beds, trees with tire swings and white picket fences.

"you have arrived at your destination"

the monotone voice speaks from Ellie's propped up phone on the dashboard, a nervous breath leaving her lips, before picking up the bouquet of flowers she'd put on the empty passenger seat, wrapped in brown paper, tied together with a white satin bow.

She would never admit it, but Ellie spent about 45 minutes in the florist deciding on the flowers. She wanted it to be perfect, like you- god it was corny even just thinking that, but flowers could express what Ellie couldn’t, her excitement and adoration for you.

Ellie stands on the street outside your house, mind racing a million thoughts a minute, every worse case scenario popping in and out of her head, what if she got the wrong house? What if she got the day mixed up? What if you didn’t even answer the door?

This was so unlike her, so out of character- she wasn’t like this; she was effortless and laid back, never worried, and never cared too much- about anything really, but the soft unease in her stomach argued differently, butterflies.

She scoffed to herself; she had fucking butterflies.

She began waling the cobbled path towards your front porch, looking up into the window where you sat- of course you had a window seat, wearing a beautiful dress, your hair cascading down like waves she would be delighted to be stranded in. your knees were tucked up as a book rested up against them, the soft sunset beamed through the windowpanes, illuminating the pages in golden hues, you looked like a painting, one that would transfix art snobs in museums for hours, staring mindlessly at your beauty and effortless grace.

And what made it even better? You were reading Sappho. Fitting.

She shook her head quickly, if you caught her staring, she thinks she would run away and never come back- live her life as a fugitive in another country and simply die in a pit of her own embarrassment. With hands that were still shaking, Ellie tapped on the blue painted front door, breath becoming uneven once more as she tried not to hold the bouquet of flowers too tightly in fear of squishing them, because god knows that would be the type of thing she would do.

The door creaks open as your face fills her view, you had put on another layer of lip-gloss and ran a brush through your hair again, locks now cascading in a different way- still just as beautiful.

“Oh Ellie- are these for me?” you gasped, smile beaming at her, a loving glint in your eyes. If she didn’t look like a total creep, she would take out her phone and capture the look on your face, so she could admire it again and again and again.

“uh- yeah, hope you like ‘em”,

Ellie is about to start rambling but is cut of by your lips pecking her cheeks, leaving behind a sticky pink stain, laughing at the surprise on her face, flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

“they’re perfect Ells, thank you”

[tieronecrush]

BNBG (brand new baby girl)

frankie morales x curvy OF/cam girl f!reader

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

wc: 11k

rating: E (very)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d wanna be your fluffer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he’s got plans for Monday night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No going back now.

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

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

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

[Direct Message:] FlyingFish

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

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

FlyingFish:

Hey

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

Hey there Fish

Guess I never actually asked if I could call you that

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

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

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

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

You can call me anything you want bonita

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

Fish is close to your name?

What is it? Bass? Salmon? Trout?

Funny

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

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

Oh really? :)

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

Hmm

:( please?

I wanna be liked by you

Showing your cards there Fishie

Not trying to play it cool?

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

I doubt that’s true

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

My buddies on my team

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

So Catfish

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

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

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

Never

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

I appreciate the honesty baby haha

My name’s Frankie

I like your name Frankie :)

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

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

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

Would you wanna actually talk? Like on Facetime maybe

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s gonna miss the call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You jus’ sound…nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you a good teacher of other things?”

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

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

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

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

“My voice is sexy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s got a crush.

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

Conejita:

Hiii 😚

Are you busy?​

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you wanna switch to Facetime?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promised me something, Conejita.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes’sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

“What, Conejita?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Frankie wasn’t lying. He’s big.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right back at you, Conejita.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @kiwisbell @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @k-k0129 @cartoon-garbage04 @nostalxgic @ravenpoe67

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Bonding

Summary: You and Javi just brought your daughter Lucy home from the hospital. While the two of you couldn't be more in love and excited at the addition of your newest family member, it doesn't mean that you both aren't feeling some of the nerves of being first time parents.

Word Count: 2.4K (She's reasonable, your honor)

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: This is honestly just pure, sweet, sickening, fluff, mentions of body insecurity postpartum, worry/anxiety about being a first time parent, Javi snuggling a newborn baby skin on skin (it needs a warning fr), Javi being the cutest dad ever to exist, Javi is in full on dad mode, ladies and gents (gn) 🫡

A/N: This was inspired after reading @kteague adorable post about Frankie carrying his daughter in a baby sling, and I couldn't help but picture sweet Javi as a first time dad cuddling with his baby girl 😭🥺 and to @endlessthxxghts for being a bad influence 💀Y ou know for a fact that Lucy's got Javi wrapped around her finger from the moment she's born, and picturing the adorable bond these two have makes me want to melt into a puddle 🫠 also I have a raging case of baby fever, but let's pretend that wasn't entirely the motive to write this or that I'm not projecting at all WHOOPS

Part of the Forever and Always Series!!

From the moment you had found out you were pregnant, you had no doubt that Javi was going to be nothing short of the best dad you could have ever hoped for. Before your daughter was even born, Javi had completely flipped the switch into full Dad Mode, spending the past 9 months coming with you to every single doctor’s appointment, baby proofing every square inch of your home, and checking out (and re-checking out) every parenting book he could get his hands on at the library. 

So it was safe to say, that once you brought Lucy home from the hospital to start your life together as a family of 3, if Javi hadn’t already been full force into Dad Mode, he sure as hell was now, and was going to do anything and everything he could to make sure that the two most important girls in his life were showered with every ounce of love and affection he had. 

It was also safe to say that even though he wouldn’t admit it, Javi was also an absolute nervous wreck at the reality that he was now actually a dad to a tiny newborn daughter that had been brought into the world. 

“You think that her diaper is snug enough? Should I get a bottle ready just in case she gets hungry? Different pajamas to sleep in before we put her down?” Javi asked, carefully cradling Lucy against his chest as you passed her off to him, planting a soft kiss on her head, gently bouncing her up and down. 

“Javi,” You laughed leaning in to give your sleepy daughter a kiss on the messy tufts of hair ruffled on her head before looking back up at your husband, “I’m going to take a shower, not leaving for war. I’ll be quick, so that way if she needs me then I’ll-” 

“Hermosa,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at you as he smiled, “take as long as you need, okay? I’m just asking to make sure so I don’t have to bother you. Take an hour, hell, take 3 hours for all I care, you deserve it, Momma. I can’t imagine how exhausted you are. Me and Lucy Goosey will be just fine, won’t we, mi amor (my love)?” 

The two of you smiled as Lucy quietly cooed, your grin spreading even wider watching Javi’s face light up with joy as he looked down at his daughter, your heart practically bursting at the seams with how in love he was with her. But even through the pure bliss in Javi’s eyes, you couldn’t help but sense a nervous twinge in his voice, knowing that in the short day and a half that you’d been home from the hospital, even though you were only a room away, this was the first time that Javi was in charge of Lucy all by himself. And because you knew your husband better than you knew yourself, you knew that despite the fact Javi was probably better prepared for parenting than you were, he was secretly terrified he was going to do something that would hurt his precious baby girl, and the thought of that? That scared the shit out of him. 

“Javi?” You said again, gently rubbing your hand against his arm, forcing his gaze to shift on to you and your tired smile. “Honey, you know you’re an amazing dad right? But, I can guarantee that even though we would do anything and everything for this stinker, we’re gonna mess up at some point. You love her so much, and that’s all that matters, okay? I love you, Jav.” 

You could feel some of the tension begin to ease from Javi’s body, looking back down at Lucy before back to you, taking in a deep breath, and softly nodding his head to himself. 

“I know, it’s just- She’s so perfect. I wanna give her everything. I just, I just wanna be a good dad. I just want her to know that I love her so much.” 

As if you weren’t already an emotional mess, watching the tears well in Javi’s eyes as he gazed down at Lucy, looking at her like she was the only thing the world that existed, had your hormonal heart bursting into a million pieces, now trying to wipe your own wetness streaming down your cheeks. 

“Javi, I don’t think it’s possible for you to love that little girl anymore than you already do.” You sighed, stepping in to press a kiss onto Javi’s lips before another onto Lucy’s head. “Okay, I’m gonna go shower before I become even more of a hot mess than I already am. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” 

“Thanks, Osita. We’ll be just fine. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” 

“And hey, you’re not a hot mess, just hot.” Javi smirked, making you roll your eyes as you gestured to yourself and the undeniably disheveled state you were in. 

“Javi, I look like I just rolled out of a dumpster. I am literally wearing an adult sized diaper.” 

“And no one’s ever made an adult sized diaper look hotter, Hermosa.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking your head at your husband as you finally turned to head out of the nursery, giving Javi and Lucy one last wave before disappearing out of the door frame and into the bathroom for a much needed shower. 

“Alright, it’s just you and me, pollita (little chicken).” Javi smiled, rocking Lucy against your chest, taking a deep breath of reassuring confidence, feeling more self-assured about his time alone. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, huh?” With another kiss on Lucy’s head, Javi carefully laid her down on her changing table, reaching into one of the drawers to pull out a tiny onesie covered in pink flowers and strawberries. 

He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at how absolutely tiny the pair of pajamas felt in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that all of this was real- for so long, Javi had been convinced a family of his own would never be in the cards for him, and for as much as it hurt, he’d come to accept it. But when you had come into his life and given him the second chance that he had so desperately longed for, he still couldn’t quite believe how he had deserved to find himself here with a beautiful family, a wife and daughter he loved more than life itself, and how he couldn’t have been happier to be dressing his newborn baby girl into a pair of tiny pink pajamas. 

Checking Lucy’s diaper and tossing her clothes into the hamper, Javi zipped her up into her pajamas, noticing that she was starting to get squirmy and fussy, he quickly picked her back up, pressed against his chest as he made his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. 

Despite the steady movement back and forth and the gentle rocking, Lucy’s cries only started to become louder, Javi trying his best to keep calm despite the fact his heart was racing, thinking he had already done something wrong to upset his daughter in the few short minutes they had been together. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhhhh, it’s okay bebita, it’s okay.” Javi cooed, gently patting Lucy’s back to try and soothe her. “What’s wrong, huh? It’s not your diaper, Momma fed you before she got in the shower, I wonder if it’s-” 

Before Javi could finish the rest of his mental checklist outloud, he was looking down at his shoulder to see the little dribbles of spit-up drooling from Lucy’s mouth onto his shirt, quietly laughing to himself at the mystery that had seemed to solve itself. 

“Alright, well that was easy. Let’s get you cleaned up, messy miss.” 

Standing up to bring Lucy back to the changing table, he laid her down to reach into another drawer to grab one of the many burp cloths that had been stored away to wipe up Lucy’s little face before he was back to the pajama drawer, pulling out another pair to change her into. But as he tossed Lucy’s second outfit in 10 minutes into the laundry, he couldn’t help but notice the giant spit stain drenching his own shoulder. Not wanting to have to lay Lucy back into his damp shirt, he stared down at his daughter in nothing but her diaper, thinking back to the advice from the plethora of parenting books he had consumed and a few days ago after Lucy’s birth, where the nurses had been adamant about making sure both you and Javi spent plenty of skin on skin time with the baby. 

Trying to fight off any self-doubt or need for reassurance, Javi took a deep breath as he stared down at Lucy, still restless and crying on her changing table before stripping his own shirt and tossing it in with the other tiny items of laundry that had quickly accumulated throughout the day. 

“Okay, c’mere mi amorcita (my little love), it’s okay, I’ve got you. Shhhhhh, I’ve got you, baby girl.” Javi cooed, carefully cradling his daughter to his bare chest, feeling the heat of her tiny body pressed against his as he sat back down in the rocking chair, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t cry, pollita, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

After a few seconds of whispered reassurances and gentle rocks back and forth, Javi let out a quiet sigh of relief as Lucy’s cries began to lessen, slowly fading from wails to muffled tears against Javi’s chest. 

“That’s it, see, it’s okay, baby girl.” Javi softly smiled, pressing a tender kiss into Lucy’s soft hair before reaching over to the small bookshelf next to the rocking chair, pulling a well loved copy of “Goodnight Moon” into his lap, trying his best to maneuver it open to the first page with his one free hand. “You never got to meet your Grandma Lucia, but that’s who you’re named after. A long time ago, this was Daddy’s favorite book to listen to her read. This is his book when he was a little boy, and now I’m so happy it gets to be yours.” Almost as if little Lucy knew, her crying began to calm even more to listen to her dad as he began to read. 

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon and a picture of…” 

As Javi began to read each page, Lucy became quieter and quieter, and by the time they had said goodnight to kittens and mittens, and clocks and socks, Little Lucy was sound asleep on Javi’s chest, her soft snores rumbling on his skin. 

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere. And goodnight my sweet Lucy Goosey. Daddy loves you so much.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing his thumb in circles along Lucy’s back as he tilted his head against the back of the rocking chair, the back and forth and weight of his sleeping daughter on his chest slowly just enough to the weight of his eyelids droop to a close right along side Lucy’s. 

After a long, hot, and much needed shower, you had changed into some new pajamas, throwing your still damp hair into a towel as you headed down the hallway towards the nursery, surprised and slightly concerned by the lack of noise coming from the room. 

“Hey baby, I’m all done with the shower if you want me too- Oh my god.” Before you could even make it all the way through the door, you were stopped in your tracks, covering your mouth with your hand to try and cope with the cuteness overload that was in front of you. 

There, in the corner of the room sat Javi and Lucy in the rocking chair, the pair sound asleep and snoring as Lucy lay against his bare chest, “Goodnight Moon”  half open and slipping out of Javi’s lap from what you assumed had to have been the book he was reading to her before they clonked out. 

Your footsteps down the hallway must have been enough to wake Javi to the point that his eyes began to blink open, scrunching his face in a half awake yawn as he recognized your frame in the doorway, quickly shaking his head to bring himself back to full consciousness, immediately looking down at his chest to make sure Lucy was still there before looking back at you and the lovestruck grin spread between your cheeks. 

“You two having a good nap?” You giggled quietly, making your way over to stand next to the rocking chair, gently running your hand through the dark curls of Javi’s messy, sleep ridden hair, kissing his forehead, admiring your tiny daughter perched on your husband’s chest. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.” Javi whispered, steadying his grip around Lucy as he sat up straighter. 

“Javi, don’t apologize, baby. I’m glad that you were able to get her to sleep for you. Did you read her “Goodnight Moon”? Glad to know it still works like a charm. I think she must already have it memorized at this point.” You smiled, picking the book up off of Javi’s lap, turning through the well worn pages, knowing how excited Javi had been to finally read it to her as he held her, despite all of the times he had read it to your belly while you were pregnant when it was the only ways to bring you some relief from the constant kicking in your last trimester. 

“Yeah we did, didn’t we, sleepy girl? Although I didn’t realize that “Goodnight Dad” was the last page of the book I must have been missing all this time.” Javi laughed, readjusting Lucy as she let out a tiny yawn, stretching her little body against Javi’s. 

“Well, if every time you read “Goodnight Moon” to this little cutie, you end up shirtless with Lucy asleep on your chest, I don’t think that I’ll have anything to ever complain about again, except for the fact I’m gonna die of cuteness. God, you two are so adorable. You have a good time with your Daddy, baby girl? I hope you know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little tiny finger, Little Miss. He loves you so much.” 

“God, you’ve got that right. Have you ever seen anything so perfect? She’s perfect, Osita. I love her more than anything. I love our family so much. Thank you.” Javi whispered, trying to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Thank me for what, Javi?” 

“For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[jolalibrary]

wet n' wild

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: “This what you wanted?” His breath fans across your cheek, your neck—teeth all but gliding over your hammering pulse. “You just wanted me to touch you, querida?” wordcount: 1.8k warnings: smut. p in v. frankie doing a bit of dirty talking. reader wears a white two piece/bikini. mutual appreciation of bodies - although slight mention of shyness about 'your' body. an: all thanks to this anon, i hope you appreciate how you made me rot.

As soon as it had begun—you’d hoped it would end like this.

The game of who could break the other started as soon as he'd pushed you into Santiago's pool.

The rules dissolved, disappearing amongst the soft waves made from your legs wrapping around his middle when you finally got him in the water, "jus' wanna float with you" you coo, wrapping it in naïveté as the pool floats moved past you and people shout over the music and sizzling food.

He believed you for all of a few moments. That is until you tightened your thighs, rocking yourself over him, smirking, fingers twirling a strand of his hair around and around. Just like you do at home.

Stop, his eyes said. Make me, you challenged silently, it having become clear that there would be no defined winner or loser.

Just a symphony of soft brushes and lingering glances, ones that make your face burn and your thighs press together as hours tick on by and the teasing increases. Each time he wraps an arm around your waist, you feel you're losing the edge, becoming powerless, desperation creeping up as you dig your nails into your palm, the sun drying your skin and two-piece doing nothing to quell the fire that swirls in your insides.

It's why you'd been cautious to slip from the party, from the laughter and loud yells. Sliding past bodies you don't know, moving between ones you do, as you head up to the house.

To freshen up, compose yourself.

But then you’d felt him follow.

A thrum darting through you, turning the fire into an inferno, it grows, showing no signs of simmering as your flip-flops clap against tiles. Even less so when you hear the backdoor slide open and then shut. Recognising that gait, that walk.

Your pulse thumps in your ear as he follows you, doing so down Santiago’s hallway. A part of you waiting. All on edge. Anticipation quickening the rhythm of your heart within its cage of bone as you turn your head, graceful, ear tilting akin to a curious animal, capturing the quiet sound of an opening door just as fingers wrap around your wrist, gently tugging you back.

Game, set, match.

You do your best to hide your smirk—smother it in wide eyes and a blank expression. Innocence, all halo shining and white two-piece gleaming. You know Frankie sees through it—has been aware of each brush of your ass against the strings of his swim shorts.

It's evident in the way he looks at you, and pins you to him, all broad and spectacular as he moves you, back meeting the edge of the dresser as it digs into exposed skin. And, suddenly your throat is dry, unable to tear your eyes away from him if you tried. Because he’s crowding, all but looming—palm resting on your hip, the other cupping your cheek.

It’s brief, the seconds he provides. A flick of his gaze between both eyes, a confirmation requested and given with a smirk of your own mouth.

Then, he's on you.

Hot, wet mouth sliding over yours, tongue pressing past your lower lip, cursing somewhere at the back of his throat that he breathes into your own. Because fuck. A thought that grows, builds, but you do your best to bite back as your fingers grasp at bare skin, palms sliding over the flexing muscles on his shoulders and along his back before you grab a handful of his curls, droplets dripping down your wrist.

You don't fight the moan when he flattens his body to yours. Frankie flush to you, soft stomach against yours—no space between the two of you, nowhere for air to be except around the two of you—as his fingers splayed out on your hip. Keeping you where he wants you; where he needs you.

Here, here, here.

You lose yourself against his mouth. Drown in it; pleasingly overwhelmed by him, and desperate for more. Insatiable, in fact—as you become aware of his fingers at the crease of your thighs, parting them, ungluing them, fingers sliding over your fabric-covered seam.

The tip of his nose slides against your cheek, breath searing against your skin, leaving a trail of fire to your ear before he whispers, “Don’t think your bikini is wet from the pool, is it?”

It's instinct, barely muffled, a murmur of his name escaping—but better that than the moan you have to bite down on your tongue to suppress. More so as his fingers, all expert, competent, slide back and forth over your covered pussy. The thinnest layer being a barrier, keeping him from sliding into your heat and making you see stars.

“This what you wanted?” His breath fans across your cheek, your neck—teeth all but gliding over your hammering pulse. “You just wanted me to touch you, querida?”

You can't think, not as he teases the edge of your bikini.

Your name on his lips is elongated. Meaningful.

And, there's an answer forming somewhere, but it won't make it to your tongue. It thought, but barely given—never mind said—but he reads you. Pushing the fabric to the side, fingers parting you, retrieving a moan that does more than kiss the air.

You think you nod. You must do as sounds dull and thoughts silence as he sinks two fingers into you.

"Eyes on me, bonita."

And they pin to him just like he demands. Seeing only slowly drying curls and deep brown eyes. Admiring, mouth parting around silently pleas as he focuses on you, nothing else mattering, as he studies you, moves his fingers and thumb to get the sounds from you he knows he can get you to play.

There, you think. But he already knows. Frankie's attentive like that, swirling his thumb, circling and circling as your own hand slides between the two of you, palming him, feeling every thick inch of him as your teeth nip at your lower lip.

And he gleams as though reading your mind like he’s watching a movie in your eyes. Hand stopping, making your face scrunch before he's retracting it, fabric snapping back into place.

You barely have a chance to ask, never mind speak, before he’s shifting you, moving you with far too much ease until your back is bouncing on a mattress that isn’t your own—staring up at him as he tilts his head.

Fuck, he looks good.

Impossibly good. A thought you have constantly, almost continuously. Because it's him, all yours, forever 'mine'.

It's why shyness is gone, eroded. Hands rising, undoing the top of your swimwear until it parts open at your cleavage, exposing your breasts to him, nipples pebbling in the cool, drier air before you grasp them—take one in each hand and roll, squeeze, parting your thighs further as you mentally wish for his hands to replace yours—

“Or,” he says suddenly, grittier, all low and sounding closer to a grunt.

Jaw ticking to the side, eyes narrowing, as he takes one of your knees in hand, forcing it up, further into your chest.

"Is this what you wanted?”

Your heart hammers in your ears, thunders. It practically dulls all else—mind emptying of a party, of anyone walking in and catching the two of you. Least of all when he slides the fabric to the side, an order—direct and stern—to hold it for him, as you do so, all in awe, watching as he frees himself, swimshorts pooling somewhere at his ankles before he runs his palm up and down as he drinks you in.

And you’ve never felt more seen, more beautiful. Usually, a hand would have slid over your stomach, a thought crossing through your mind about the thickness of your thighs or the slithers of discolour that stretch across your hips.

But there’s none.

Just the sight of him, all handsome and pretty, stroking himself as he admires you undone and waiting.

“I ever told you how good you look?"

His eyes flick to yours at the sound of your voice.

"You do," you continue. "So pretty with your hand wrapped around your cock for me."

Sliding a finger over your soaked folds, breath hitching, you watch his eyes snap to it.

"Fuck Frankie," you whine. "Especially when you’re like this—when you’re doing this?”

It's silky, the way you let each word fall. Let it glide through the air to his ears as you earn a brow twitch.

“I want you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, your free hand reaches for him, the mattress dipping as he kneels.

"Want you to fuck me so good we have to buy Santi new spare bed sheets, and not just wash them."

Leaning over, he smirks, pink sliding up his neck as his palm flattens to the mattress, all close to your head. "He never uses this room anyway," he retorts, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, forcing your teeth to bite down on the back of your hand. "So, someone should."

Nodding, you murmur something, words, letters at the very least.

“Fuck, who knew my girl was so dirty?”

Heat flushes through you, spreads—licks across muscles and bone as you stare down at the place the two of you could be conjoined—

“Frankie, please—“ the last letter barely forming as he pushes in, pussy taking him, inch by fucking inch, “—fuck, baby.”

His forehead finds yours, pushing it back as the back of your head meets the mattress as he slides himself into the hilt. All thick, suddenly nothing but full—mouth parted at it, before you begin to move, urging, pleading, before he’s moving.

Palm finding your mouth, you try to smother the moans and whines as he rolls his hips, gripping your hips, bruising, thrusting and kissing that part inside of you that makes his name fall in tandem from your mouth.

Distantly, you can hear him. Mumbling, babbling, lost in it: “I know, s’good for me. Feel perfect—always do. Look so good, querida—wanna fill you up. Touch yourself, come for me, baby. Please come for me.”

Fingers moving, sliding from holding the fabric for him to drawing circles, chin lifting, back arching into him as fire slides up your spine, the knot tightening in your stomach, muscles both tightening and relaxing. And it’s dizzying, vision blurring as you hear him talking you through it, murmurs of “that’s it’s baby, come on baby” as your fingers move on their own and your other hand clamps and digs into your own cheek, "can't believe you're letting me fuck you here, so perfect, mine, all—"

Hissing, moaning into his palm—teeth almost biting, piercing your skin as a tightness forms before you're clamping down. Before you snap, crack.

And you come.

And it's all but consuming, mind-bending and sound melting as he fucks you through it. Hips snapping against yours, skin slapping, as you hear him hissing, grunting, his name painted in spit and hisses against your palm as your legs shake.

You yank him down by the back of his neck, fingers full of curls, mouth slanting over his as you swallow his breaths, all hot and desperate—

“Come for me, Frankie.”

And he does. Hard.

And fuck, you know you're gonna have to replace more than the bedsheets.

an: hides and runs cause for me this was so filthy and I'm unwell from my own words

[pedrospatch]

more hearts than mine

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

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

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

word count: 2k

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

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

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

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

“You’re kidding?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How?”

“Because he poured you a drink.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mother hisses her name, angrily.

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

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

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

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

Pushing away from the table, you stand up. 

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

“Hermosa?”

You stir at the sound of Frankie’s voice.

“Baby. Hey. Wake up.”

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

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

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

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

“What—what time is it?”

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

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

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

“How did fishing go?”

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

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

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

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

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

He stiffens. “What?”

“She loves you.”

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

You hesitate.

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

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

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

Part of you is afraid that it could happen again.

“Amor?”

Frankie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

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

He frowns. “What are you worried about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you see?”

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

Warmth blossoms in your chest. “You do?”

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

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

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

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

His bulge brushes against your thigh and you gasp.

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

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

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

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

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[froggiewrites]

Hello! I was wondering if i could request a Zoro or a Law x gn! or m!reader with angst? They are in a fight and reader kinda ignores them and hides from them and Zoro or Law realize how in love they are with the reader? Can end however you want!

Sorry I've been so slow on requests, writer's block hit me pretty hard this week! I chose Zoro with a gn!reader for this one, it just seemed to fit him pretty well (man is not good with his emotions). I hope you enjoy it!

A Bridge Too Far

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Zoro is terrible at handling his frustrations, and you're tired of being his punching bag. He doesn't realize what he's lost until it's gone. Warnings: Angst, Zoro being a bad boyfriend, not a happy but possibly a hopeful ending? Word Count: 2.3k

Like most of your arguments with Zoro, he started it.

He always starts it, even when he doesn’t want to. When his frustrations start to bubble, he can’t help but lash out at whoever’s closest, and that’s normally you. You’re always there, waiting for him, and you never hold it against him once he calms down. Frankly, they’re less arguments and more one-sided furious rants, as you never rise to the provocation. So he doesn’t think much of it when he snaps at you again after a particularly tough battle, one that left a buzzing under his skin and a strain in his muscles that he couldn’t shake. You wouldn’t mind. You never did.

A few minutes after you follow him to the training room, sitting quietly in the corner while he readies his swords, he finally snaps. “Will you just leave me alone for once? How am I supposed to relax with you trailing after me like this?”

You don’t just sit there and take it like you always do. You don’t just get up and leave, ready to come back when he’s calmer. You stare at him a moment, not radiating fury or indignation, simply…disappointment. Weariness. “Again?”

“What?” He snaps.

“We’re doing this again? Really?” You seem completely composed and calm. It infuriates him more than snapping ever could.

“What do you mean, doing this again? You following me around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, I guess we are.” He hits the target in front of him harder, sending splintering wood everywhere. The sound of it pierces his brain, rattling around, making him feel even worse.

You sigh, sounding horribly burdened and beaten down. “You know what? Sure. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone, Zoro, if that’s what you want. But this is the last time. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

He grits his teeth. “Won’t put up with this? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Your eye twitches, finally a show of emotion, a show that he’s affecting you. “I’m not your punching bag, Zoro. I’m not here for you to use to work off your adrenaline instead of learning to deal with your emotions like an adult. I’m supposed to be someone you care about.” You finally stand, gathering your things and turning to leave. You don’t look back at him as you call, “You’re going to regret this, but I won’t.”

The door slamming echoes through the room, sounding horribly…final.

He ignores it.

It takes a few hours for him to finally wind down, for the buzzing to quiet and leave nothing but a blissful silence. He doesn’t bother cleaning up the wood all over the floor, or taking a shower to rid himself off all of the sweat. He has only one thought: his bed, warm and soft and welcoming. If he’s lucky, you’ll be in it, waiting for him to hold you close and kiss your face, the closest thing he’s ever given to an apology. He eagerly makes his way to the Sunny’s sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly to the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy and Franky, accompanied by Sanji, Chopper, and Usopp’s quiet breathing. Brook is still on deck, on watch for the night, so it makes sense his bunk is empty, but Zoro notices your bed is also suspiciously clear. Even your pillow and blanket are gone, the sheets not even wrinkled, as though no one had ever slept there at all.

A small part of him tells him he should check on you, make sure you’re alright. But a much larger, louder part is crying out for rest, and he cannot help but give in, falling face first onto his mattress without even changing clothes. He’s asleep within seconds.

He’s alone when he wakes up. He doesn’t typically sleep very long, instead napping in short bursts throughout the day, but he can see the light pouring in under the door and he realizes he must have slept at least until noon. He’s shivering, still on top of his blanket. Usually when he falls asleep like this, you throw one of the extras in your locker over him, tucking him in like a child. You must not have come back in at all last night.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling nipping at him, something he will not name. You’re fine. You’re an adult, and one night away from your bed doesn’t mean anything.

But then you aren’t at lunch.

Sanji is giving him dirty looks, and Nami is giving him the most foul side-eye he’s ever had the displeasure of receiving. The rest of the crew are trying to act normal, but Franky is suspiciously absent and Usopp is so nervous he keeps dropping everything he tries to pick up, ending in him spilling water all over himself and taking the excuse to “take a second to go change” and never come back.

He finally breaks after Sanji brings Nami another drink, takes an obvious glance at him, and they start to whisper to each other. He makes out the words idiot, asshole, and loser (the first two from Nami and the latter from Sanji), before he slams his fork down. “What? What is it?”

Nami turns to him, filled with the sort of righteous fury she only saved for those who dare hurt her friends. “God, Zoro, you don’t even know? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re all acting weird as hell!”

Sanji jumps in. “Because you’re acting like a jerk and have the gall to pretend everything is normal, asshole! What the hell did you say to them yesterday?”

What he said to…oh. That feeling comes back again, and he furiously clamps down on it, replacing it with a significantly more comfortable and familiar indignance. “That’s none of your business, cook.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think I deserve to know why I had to find them sleeping in the goddamn kitchen this morning, actually.”

In the kitchen? Of course. It’s the one place you knew he would never find you. He never went there other than mealtimes, avoiding the possibility of another stupid fight with Sanji when he wasn’t up for it. “How the hell should I know?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t know it’s your fault? They were bawling their eyes out after leaving the training room.” Nami’s even angrier than Sanji is, and Zoro genuinely thinks she might hit him. The smaller, more tender part of himself, the one he’s ignoring, wouldn’t even blame her.

But that part isn’t in charge today. “My relationship isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Relationship? You seriously think you still have one of those?”

His blood runs cold, but he forces the feeling away, standing up from the table and stalking off. “I don’t have to take this.”

Nami calls after him, “I hope they dump you!”

Sanji cries out soon after. “I hope you fall into the sea, asshole!”

Zoro could go look for you. Should, even. But he instead makes the trek to the crow’s nest, cherishing the quiet, the solitude, the safety of it.

But as he sits in what is usually his sanctuary, he begins to feel that itch beneath his skin. Quiet turns to unbearable silence, solitude turns to loneliness, safety turns to suffocation. He tries to close his eyes, to center himself, take control as he loves to do, but the moment he does he can see nothing but your face. He can almost feel your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles while your voice gently shushes him. You were so good at that, calming him down right when he needed you. Giving him a patience he simply didn’t deserve.

A patience he had been taking for granted.

What would he do, if another man had made you cry? If someone else had raised their voice at you as he had, time and again?

Part of him tried to justify it. But I don’t mean it, some petulant part of himself cried. They know I don’t mean it.

But do you? And would it matter, anyway? He’s still shouting. You’re still taking it. How long can you perform the same song and dance before it stops being a performance?

He needs to apologize.

He just needs to find you first. You aren’t in the kitchen, though Sanji is, and he doesn’t even speak with him this time, just giving him a mean glare that would send a lesser man running. Zoro hates to admit he deserves it. You aren’t in your bed, and your things are still missing. Not in Chopper’s office. Not in the library. Not in the bathroom, though Robin is, and he has to take a moment to furiously apologize for not knocking while she laughs at him.

He can only think of a few more places to check when he remembers who was missing this morning.

Franky’s workshop is quieter than he’s ever heard it, only filled with the quiet clanking of a small hammer against an even smaller piece of metal. Franky is using his second set of hands to put together some clockwork trinket, a significantly more delicate project that he usually takes on. Zoro is confused only for a moment, then he sees you, eyes intensely watching, and he realizes what’s going on. Franky has taken you in today, chosen something simple and small to distract you, to allow you to participate in some way. He’s always been great at small comforts like this, allowing someone the peace of his presence without worrying about being a burden.

Zoro could learn a lot from him.

Franky clearly knows he’s there, shoulders tensing slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for one of you to take the first step. You don’t seem to notice either, too enraptured by the small metal bird in Franky’s hands, a look of wonder on your face that makes Zoro’s heart skip despite himself.

“Hi.” He cringes the moment he speaks, the peace shattering instantly. Franky doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but he can practically feel the wince that must be on his face from the lame opener. Your head shoots up like a frightened rabbit, every part of you tense and ready to run. You pull in on yourself, making yourself smaller, like if you’re lucky he might miss you entirely, move on to the next prey. He puts up his hands, the first and only act of surrender he has ever performed, before continuing. “Can we talk? In private?”

You look to Franky, and Zoro doesn’t know what the look you two exchange means, but it makes you get up and approach. You give him a wide berth, not even coming within a foot of him, but you nod at him briefly to indicate he should follow. However small of a gesture it is, you’ve finally acknowledged him. That’s something.

You lead him back down to the training room, still covered in splintered wood and reeking of sweat. He can’t help but notice you didn’t pick a neutral location. You lead him somewhere he feels safe.

You turn to him. “Talk.”

He hesitates a moment, trying not to trip over himself and somehow make this work, but he can see that he’s finally reached the end of your apparently not-quite-infinite patience. “I’m…sorry.” He says the words through gritted teeth, feeling as though they burn his mouth as they leave. He doesn’t like to apologize in words, but in action. In gentle hands, in small acts he could deny later. He doesn’t know why it embarrasses him, to admit he was wrong. He is pretty often. But something about it makes him feel so small, so weak. But he can be small and weak for you, right now. No matter how much it hurts.

Your eyes widen, and you take the smallest step backwards. Shocked by him admitting for once he’s at fault. “You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at him, searching for some kind of trick, some hidden knife ready to plunge into your back. “For what?”

“For…for what? You know for what.” He winces at how defensive he sounds, at how you start to pull in on yourself again. “Sorry. Um. For yelling at you. For taking my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. For how I always do that. I…I don’t know why I snap at you. And it’s wrong.”

“Yes, it is.” You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It isn’t fair of you to keep doing this. I tried letting it slide, because I know you just don’t know how to handle your feelings, that you aren’t coming from a place of malice. But that doesn’t make it okay. And you never stopped.” You turn your back to him, approaching a nearby window, staring out at the sea.

“I’m going to stop now. I swear it.”

“I won’t be with someone who speaks to me like that. I deserve better. You know I deserve better.” You’re trying to play tough, but he can hear the shake in your voice, and he realizes that just like yesterday you’ve only turned around so he can’t see the tears on your lashes.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “You do. I swear I’ll treat you like you deserve. If I ever talk to you like that again, I’ll fall on my own sword.”

“...Swords.”

“Huh?”

“Swords. All three.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Alright. I’ll fall on all three at the same time.”

“Good. …You deserve it.”

“I know.” A silence hangs in the air. “I love you.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t hug him back, and you’re still sniffling, but you let him hold you. That has to be enough for now.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece (if you saw I forgot the taglist when I first posted this no you didn't)