#chubby!frankie one shot
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Chubby!Frankie fic
Send in your thoughts, ask box is always open!
The Catfish & The Mouse: Part 3
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
Summary: The trials and tribulations of a pregnant Mouse... and Frankie, too!
Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)
Word Count: 7,089
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, pregnancy sex, p in the v - unwrapped cos she preggo (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain
Author's Notes: IT'S HERE! And now you have to wait for Part 4! *maniacal laugh* Thanks be to @theywhowriteandknowthings for their eyes & sound judgement in proofing. And also to @harryleatherfit for being an awesome cheerleader.
The THOT TANK is always open for y'all to make a deposit - I'll never not love writing Frankie + Mouse 💜
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As soon as you showed Frankie the positive pregnancy test, he wanted to scream from the rooftops that he was gonna be a dad. He was downright elated and ready to tell everyone, but respected your request to wait until it was officially confirmed by your doctor.
You booked your appointment for an afternoon later that week and both of you took the day off work.
Even though you could have slept in, you found yourself wide awake with excitement. You rolled over and snuggled into Frankie’s side causing his gentle snoring to subside. He moved his arm, allowing you to snuggle in closer.
“Morning, mama.”, he croaked.
“Morning, daddy.”, you crooned back, nuzzling your face in him.
You laid there quietly for a moment, only the sounds of your steady breaths breaking the silence. Then Frankie rolled towards you, pushing you onto your back, his hand gently rubbing circles on your stomach.
“Gonna make sure there’s a baby in there today.”, he smiled, pressing a kiss to your neck.
You smiled back, letting out a happy sigh, and out your hand on top of his. “Yup. But I’m pretty sure there is.”
You could feel Frankie’s morning wood pressing up against your thigh and you knew where he was going with this morning cuddle session. As if on cue, Frankie began sliding his hand from your stomach into your sleep shorts while planting kisses along your neck and jaw.
“You look so good, mama… love you like this… wet and ready for me…”, he cooed, dipping his fingers into your folds.
You let out a few small moans, then gasped as he plunged a finger in. “Fuck… yeah… you’re so ready for me already, princess…”, he grunted, starting to push a second in.
You were whimpering his name along with other unintelligible words while he slowly pumped in and out of you and grinded his hard on against you, grunting. As you were just starting to feel that telltale coil begin to wind up, he removed his hands, and grunted at you, “Take of your shorts… can’t wait…”
Sleepy Frankie didn’t tease or shy away from anything when he wanted you; he was to the point.
You removed your shorts as he did his, stroking his cock a few times, then he crawled on top of you, situating himself between your legs. He lined up himself with your entrance and pushed in slowly, you let out a gasp and he whispered into your ear. “That’s it, mama… there you go... fuck, feel so good…”
He started out at a slow, gentle pace, with an arm around your shoulder and the other on your thigh, pulled up to his hip. Again, the only sounds being both your breathing. As much as you loved when Frankie railed you on the various surfaces of your house, this was your favourite. This was so much more intimate, and you knew in these moments that you had his heart and he had yours.
He kissed your neck and pushed himself up on his elbow so he could see your face, his other hand still on your thigh. You smiled at him and he back at you both breathing in time with each thrust. The look he gave you asked if you were ready for him, and you nodded. He pressed his forehead to yours and picked up the pace, and your breathing turned to little whimpers and cries. Frankie loved that sound. He smiled through closed eyes and gritted teeth as you continued his favourite music.
That coil was now wound up tight, waiting for its cue to push you over the edge. Frankie could feel it and pulled the hand from you hip, two fingers going to your clit and rubbing circles. You cried out, head flung back, and Frankie watched you plummet.
Your walls squeezed him, forcing his orgasm and he came a few beats after you.
Frankie stayed on top for a moment for you both to catch your breath, then kissed you.
“I fucking love you, Mouse.”
I fucking love you, too, Frankie.”
The pregnancy was confirmed that afternoon, and you felt your eyes get glassy while Frankie openly sobbed next to you as you looked at the tiny bean on the grainy ultrasound screen.
*****
You told Benny, Will and Hannah first. You’d arrived at Will and Hannah’s house for dinner, and before you even got your coat off or could be sick from the smell of caramelized onions, Frankie blurted it out at Hannah when she went to give you a welcoming hug.
“Hey Mouse!!", she said, pulling you into a hug, noticing your swallowing a little harder as the smell hit your nose.
“Careful, Hannah. She might spew on you… her nose has been super sensitive since got preg-”, Frankie stopped himself and looked at you wide eyed.
The whole room went silent, save for the sounds of food cooking in the kitchen, and Will stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.
You couldn’t handle the tension and looked at Will, then said in a sheepish voice, “Surprise!”
“You’re… you’re pregnant?!”, Benny yelled, excitedly and slapping his hand on Frankie’s back. “Way to go, Fish!”
Hannah squealed and pulled you into a hug, but you could only watch Will. His eyes looked a little sad and he’d yet to say anything.
Hannah let you go and went to hug Frankie, and Benny came bounding over to you, pulling you into a hug that, for Benny, would be considered gentle.
When he finally let you go, Will walked up to you and pulled you into a big hug. You felt his breathing change and shudder a bit.
“Awe, Mouse… this is amazing, sweetie…”, he says, his voice sounding quiet, like he was trying to hold himself together.
“Will, don’t start…”, you said, your lip trembling and your eyes watering.
He pulled back and grabbed your head, pushing a kiss to your forehead. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, looking at Frankie.
He stuck his hand out and when Frankie went to shake it, he pulled him into a hug.
You managed to get through the night without being sick, at least until you got home.
*****
The first trimester was rough. Morning sickness hit you like a ton of bricks and was not just relegated to morning. You managed to lose weight from being so ill, but the doctor was confident that it would pass once you got to the second trimester. You kept your fluids up, and Frankie took over making food to the best of his abilities.
One issue with him being in charge of the food was... well, Frankie overseeing the food. It wasn't that he was a bad cook, but he pretty well stuck to frozen meals and quick things that he enjoyed, and given that he was stressed about you, he overindulged most nights, and whatever you didn’t eat, he did. By the time you were midway through month four, Frankie was happily eating as though he were the pregnant one.
You finally started to feel like yourself again in month four, minus the fatigue, so he’s suggested a date night. You were getting ready in your ensuite, standing in a bralette and your panties in front of your mirror, applying your eyeliner.
“Hey mama...”, Frankie said huskily, his eyes trailing down your body; he stopped at your stomach. A little bit more there than before. He smiled, “Now look at that.”
“Hmm?”, you questioned, looking at him through the mirror.
His grin was wide, and he stood behind you, his hand going to your stomach. He splayed his big hand wide on it and kissed your neck and murmured, “I see a bump.”
You leaned back into him and smiled. The whole notion of you being pregnant made Frankie soft in the best way; he was warm and gentle, and so very hands on with you. You loved it, as long as your mood swings allowed it.
“You sure you wanna take me out on that date, daddy?”, you cooed, your eyes catching his in the mirror.
“Fuck, don’t tempt me, mama…”, growls as he kisses your neck.
You didn’t make it to the restaurant, let alone out of your bedroom.
****
Your baby bump had popped finally in month five, or around the 22-week mark. Despite you having had it checked, and checked again, there was only one baby in there, although the doctor did admit it looked like a big baby. While the rest of your smaller frame stayed the same size, your belly reminded everyone and their dog that you were pregnant. You had some insecurities about how your body was changing, especially when getting weighed at the doctors, but you tried to keep yourself in check.
Frankie had told you that his family had a history of big babies. His abuela had told the story about how for each one of her pregnancies, the midwife thought she would be having twins, but each time, there was just one baby. This story, while sweet, made you feel less than confident.
But Frankie loved it; he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off your belly. Whether in the grocery store, cooking dinner, sleeping, watching TV, he had his eyes and hands on you, and while you loved him, your insecurities and mood swings sometimes reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments.
Like today. Today was a hard day. You hadn’t slept well, and work had been particularly grueling, leaving you filled with unbridled, hormonal rage at the smallest inconvenience. That on top of the already insecure feelings you had about your changing body. Even though you were supposed to gain weight to support a healthy pregnancy, every time you weighed yourself, your old body issues would come out and cause you to cringe at the escalating number; just as you had started to have a good relationship with your body, you ended up pregnant and had no idea it would affect you so much.
He could hear you swearing and cursing at the currently cooking dinner in the kitchen; the tell-tale signs of one of your tantrums beginning, and Frankie smiled.
“Fuck… what you do to me, princess…”, he groaned, walking into the kitchen and seeing you cook dinner while he palmed his crotch.
“Jesus, Francisco! I’m making you fucking dinner!”, you snapped, frustrated by the package of pasta not opening easily. “Do I look like I want you to try and fuck me?”
You were standing in the kitchen, wearing a shirt that was fitted before you were pregnant and a pair of leggings. You were flushed and sweaty, hair up in a messy bun, belly popping out from under the shirt, while standing in front of a pot of boiling water.
“No… but you look so fucking tempting…”, he groaned again, walking towards you slowly. He knew when you were temperamental like this, he could usually coax you into a better mood by sweet talking to you, or, better yet, making you come.
“Don’t you fucking dare…”, you growled at him, turning towards him, bag of pasta in your hands.
“Oof, princess… the mouth on you today…”, Frankie purred with a grin, getting closer slowly.
You scrunched your nose and scowled at him as he got closer. “Francisco Morales! I am warning you!”
“That’s my name, princess…”, he growled with a grin, licking his lips. He loved it when you got into one of your moods – the result being far more satisfying. “Come on, baby… let daddy make mama feel good.”
You gave him a furious glare as he stood in front of you and huffed at him. He grinned, reached his hand out and took the bag of pasta from your hands then gently pulled it open. He kept his eyes on you, still grinning, and placed the pasta bag on the counter and reached over to turn off the burner for the boiling pot.
“Come here, mama…”, he cooed, one large hand splaying on your belly and the other cupping the back of your neck, pulling him towards you. “Gonna help you relax…”
Your temper was getting the best of you, and you tried to push him back with a scowl on your face, but Frankie stayed firm and pulled you into him further.
“None of that, mama... I’m trying to make you feel better, baby... let me take care of you.”, he cooed as he placed kisses on your neck and jaw.
You huffed in resignation at the fact that it really did feel good to have him lavish this attention on you after the day you’d had. You could feel your muscles relax as his hands caressed your back and sides.
“There you go, mama... just relax and let me take care of you...”
The gentle touches and the soothing vibrations of his voice nicked your heart, and you went from feeling loved to feeling guilt. You despised who you became with these mood swings and how you treated your sweet, gentle Frankie. You could feel the lump in your throat and the tears stinging your eyes.
“Do you hate me yet?”, you questioned in a whisper, burying your face in his chest.
Frankie was taken aback, and while his hands stayed on your back, they stopped moving, now almost gripping you like he was trying to stop you from slipping away.
“What? Wh – Mouse! What?”, he retorted in a surprised and almost offended tone. He pulled you back to look at him, and you kept your head low.
“I… I just…” The words you so desperately wanted to say were lost, and you made the mistake of looking up and seeing Frankie’s eye boring back into yours. Hurt and pain and confusion screaming from them.
“Why would you ever ask me that?”, he demanded in a hurt voice.
“I-I’m just so… so bad at… at this.”, you cried quietly.
“At what? I don’t understand, honey. What are you bad at, baby?” He was begging you to let him in, his voice filled with fear. Fear of the words you didn’t know how to tell him: that you didn’t love him anymore; that you wanted to break up; that you thought he would be a lousy father like his dad.
When you didn’t respond, he begged again, eyes searching yours while his tears threatened to drop. “Please. Please, baby… talk to me, Mouse.”
You shook your head, trying to find the resolve to tell him what was breaking you, but all you could muster to say in a quiet and pathetic voice was, “I’m just so bad at... at being pregnant.”
Frankie let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding and couldn’t help the small, sweet smile that slowly grew on his face. He pulled you into him again. His arms held you in a warm, safe hug while he murmured soft words of love and praise to you.
He let you go so he could see your face, your belly still snuggly up against him, holding your hands. “You’re not bad at being pregnant.”
One hand went your swollen middle and he rubbed tenderly with his thumb. “It’s gotta be hard on you and I know you’re struggling, princess. You’re growing a fucking human in you, and I can see this taking it’s toll on you. I want to help you in any way that I can, but you need to talk to me, baby. I can’t do what I am supposed to do, what I need to do and what I want to do for you if you don’t talk to me.”
You nodded with your eyes cast down and stayed quiet for a moment to collect your thoughts while Frankie looked at you, silently encouraging you to speak. When you did, it was between small sobs and sniffles.
“I just don’t feel good about… about me. I feel gross and fat, and this is the time I’m supposed to feel the best and I don’t… and I feel like I’m not… good enough. I feel like because I’m so out of control with my emotions, that I’m burdening you… And I feel… I feel sad. And guilty and angry… at myself for it. It’s like a horrible cycle I can’t break out of.”
Sensing Frankie desperately wanting to interject, you continued, “And I know our priority is that the baby is healthy. I get that and I agree, and I know it’s all about the baby. Baby is number one and I just need to get over it. I know it’s stupid to feel this way… but I just want to be… good.”
You finally looked up to meet Frankie’s eyes, and what you saw startled you. No judgement or anger. Just sadness.
His eyes were glassy, and he sniffled as he nodded. “No, Mouse. Please listen to me. You’re my priority. You are. Please tell me you know that. You’re going to make me a dad – I don’t take that gift lightly. Don’t you dare say you just need to get over it like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing and you’re not nothing. You’re mine and I love you so fucking much. The baby is your number one, but you.”, he reached up and held your face in his big hands, “You’re my number one and the reason I bust my ass each day at work. The reason I am here.”
All you could do was nod while tears streamed down both your faces.
“I can’t stress it enough how much you don’t deserve the grief you’re giving yourself, Mouse. I knew you weren’t feeling great, so I wanted to help you feel better, but baby… I didn’t know it was like this for you. Baby, I’m sorry.” He wiped his eyes and continued. “You’re not gross, you’re fucking stunning and beautiful and sexy and strong… and I’m sorry that I haven’t done more to help you see that.”
You shook your head and tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he cut you off.
“I’ll move fucking mountains if it means you’re happy.” He took your hands in his and kissed your knuckles, then said quietly, “I have one fucking job: Dad is supposed to make sure that Mom is happy. That’s my job and it’s a hell of a lot easier than yours. But you gotta tell me what you need, mama.”
You sighed and gave a real smile for the first time in what felt like weeks, then nodded.
“One of the pregnancy books I read said that this can happen and that sometimes hormones can make mood swings and body issues worse and…“
“Wait - you read a pregnancy book?”, you interrupted, almost amused by the admission.
“Well, yeah. I did. I didn’t know what was going on or what I could do to help. A customer was in the shop, and she asked about you… she suggested this book and I picked it up that day after work and…”
Frankie noted your stunned expression and gave a small grin. “It’s in my locker at work… I read it at lunch.”
“Oh Frankie… I’m…”, your voice cracked at you tried to speak, feeling the emotions welling up and attempting to make you feel back about his efforts going unnoticed, but you pushed them down.
“You’re so insanely sweet. Thank you.”, you smiled.
You leaned in and gave him a kiss, saying again against his mouth, “Thank you.”
That was all it took for the dam to break, for you to open up and talk to Frankie about what was going on, he in turn shared what he was feeling. That evening, you both agreed that a daily check in when you got home from work was going to be the way you moved forward.
*****
By 26 weeks, your insecurities had not abandoned you as your belly grew, but you were far more open about how felt to Frankie and he was ever ready to offer support and praise and compliments. By this time, you were able to eat and sleep better, you felt better, and it helped that Frankie had slipped back into his old habits. He had started to fill out again, with his belly, again, bearing the brunt of it. You were more than pleased.
Your second trimester was filled with food, mainly consumed by Frankie, and fucking. Your body grew, like it was supposed to, and Frankie worshipped it.
But what really took over was your insatiable libido. Your body had become so sensitive and responsive to everything Frankie did; from a goodbye kiss in the morning or him accidentally grazing his leg against you in his sleep to him knowing how to quickly get you where he wanted so he could fuck you senseless. He almost felt in over his head with your need for him.
Early Sunday morning, your body woke you to pee. After going to the washroom and climbing back into bed, Frankie rolled over and in a sleepy haze, pulled you into a spoon with him. His hand on your belly and just the feeling of him up against you set fireworks off and your body felt like it would explode if Frankie didn’t do something to make that tension release.
“Frankie…”, you cooed, involuntarily rubbing your thighs together.
“Hmmm?”, Frankie hummed, barely awake.
“Frankie… please…”, you begged, voice dripping with need.
He knew that tone; when you said his name that way he knew what you needed. And as of late, you needed it a lot.
“Really? Seriously now?”, he groaned. Frankie wasn’t a morning person, especially on weekends. Morning sex with Frankie after 9 am was sweet and wonderful. Morning sex with Frankie at this god forsaken hour – 5:26 am to be exact – was probably going to be gruff, and a little clumsy, and oh so satisfyingly to the point.
You rolled over on your back, his hand remaining on your swollen middle. “Please Frankie… I need you. Now.”, you whined, knowing you were going to get your way.
“So bossy… so fucking needy, princess.”, he cooed with eyes stilled closed, his hand moving down your belly as you opened your legs. He slid down and cupped your heat, pressing a finger into your clothed folds. You gasped and bucked your hips.
“So sensitive… god fucking damnit.”, Frankie grunted as he moved to kneel next to you. You noted his hard on in his boxers as he pulled your panties off.
“Take your top off. You wake me up for this, I get to see your tits.”, he grunted with a grin, eyes barely open.
“Where do you want me, baby?”, you keened, feeling your body aching for anything he would give you.
He let out a shaky breath at your words, pulling his boxers down the pumping his hard cock. “On your hands and knees baby.”, he says, swatting at you to get moving. Your belly was more and more in the way of your standard position, and currently, riding him was not the most comfortable for you and your body issues.
Doing as he said, you maneuvered yourself and eagerly waited for him to just push into you. But instead, he ran two fingers through your dripping, puffy cunt, then plunging them in, forcing a high-pitched whine from you.
“Good girl… fuck… your so fucking needy… Jesus… you’re sucking my fingers in…”, he crooned as he pumped in and out of you.
You could feel your orgasm hurling itself to fruition then exploding with no warning. Crying out, Frankie kept the pace, his breath increasing as his own need skyrocketed.
“Oh fuck… you’re coming already?... fuck yeah, baby… yeah, princess… come on, mama…”, Frankie panted as he worked you through your orgasm.
Just as you started to come down though, he removed his fingers then lined his hard cock with your entrance and pushed in. You thought your arms and legs were going to give out under you as Frankie began to pound into you.
You cried out, begging in nonsensical words and phrases for him to keep going.
“Oh fuck… oh fuck… so fucking warm for me, mama… fuck you’re close again… oh shit… yeah… come on baby… I got you… come on… yeah…”, he mumbled in a sleepy timber.
You felt your walls start to flutter, and a sensation you hadn’t felt in a while began to burn white hot through your lower belly.
“Fra… Frankie… fuck… I-I’m gonna… “, you cried out.
Frankie pounded into you and felt a gush of liquid come out of you, soaking him, you and the bed underneath. If he wasn’t quite awake before, he was now. His drive kicked into high gear and his thrusts became more intense while he reached around you, moving his middle finger onto your clit, rubbing circles.
“Oh fuck! Fucking soaked me…. Can you do it again? Come on, mama… give me another one... you can do it…”, he howled as his hips continued to push you further.
You couldn’t even respond as you felt another tight coil threaten to break you apart; all you could go was cry out and pant over the vulgar squelching of Frankie fucking into you.
With a shriek, your cunt clenched down on him and your body convulsed as your third orgasm of the morning ripped through you. This pushed Frankie to come in your tight, quaking heat while a growl erupted from his mouth.
He pulled you down to your side along with him and kissed your shoulders. Your breath was ragged as you let out whimpers, and your limbs shook.
“Good girl… fuck… you did so good, mama. Yeah, come back down, baby… shhhh… did so good for me…”, Frankie cooed between his own laboured breathing while his hand rested on your middle, feeling the baby moving in your belly.
Your breathing evened out, and you let out a chuckle at the movement in you. “Frankie?”, you asked quietly.
“Hmmm?”
“We woke the baby.”
You both laughed as Frankie got up to get a cloth for your clean up.
*****
At 34 weeks, you were done being pregnant. You were all belly by this point and your back ached along with every other body part that had to work harder to accommodate your girth. One highlight though was because you were truly eating for two, Frankie had begun his old habits again. At first, when you had a craving, whatever it was and no matter how strange, Frankie would make it happen for you. Now, your middle-of-the-night wants for burgers or pasta or strawberry ice cream with pickles in it, Frankie joined in. Most nights, Frankie went to sleep with a stuffed belly, out eating you at every turn.
Benny was competing in a championship tournament and Friday night was the big fight. Although Frankie had attended some fights as of late, you’d opted to stay in, not feeling good enough to stand in a loud, packed arena. But Benny had called you himself and begged you to come watch his big fight, saying that he wouldn’t have a chance at winning if you weren’t there. He also mentioned that Frankie was bragging about how beautiful and cute you were pregnant, and he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Instead of telling Benny to come to you to see himself, you agreed with a laugh that you would attend.
On the afternoon of the fight, you’d gotten home from work and showered the day off and done your hair and make up again. You picked out a tank top and one of Frankie’s flannels to wear over a pair of leggings. You looked in the mirror and you actually felt cute. While you still felt self-conscious about your body, you were really starting to enjoy how you looked with a big baby belly. You smiled to yourself as Frankie walked back into your room from the ensuite in a towel, catching you admiring your reflection.
“There’s my girl.”, he said, coming behind you and putting his hands under your sizable bump and gently lifting, relieving your back.
“Oh, Frankie… please do this for the next month.”, you sighed and leaned back into him. “Just follow me everywhere and do this… god, I forgot what it felt like to not have a backache.”
He kissed your neck, and gently let your belly down. “You’re doing so good, Mama… soon.”, he cooed, rubbing your bump, and looking you up and down in the mirror. “You look amazing. Wait – is that my shirt?”
“Yes. I don’t have a cardigan that I can do up if I get cold. Baby’s getting too big.”, you stated, and proudly showed him how his shirt can still snap closed over your belly. Frankie just smiled.
Benny and Frankie had agreed that you didn’t need to be there until right before his fight began, so the parking lot was packed when you arrived. Frankie had arranged for Will to meet you at the door while he went to find a parking spot.
Pulling up, Will smiled and waved. You hadn’t seen him since you were around 4 months pregnant and were anxious about him seeing you now.
Will opened the truck door and offered his hand to help you get out. “Hey Mouse! How’re you doing, sweetie?”, he said, eyes bright and happy. You noted that he scanned over your body, his eyes hovering over your middle for a beat.
“Hey Will! I’m good. Tired, huge… but good!”, you laughed, posing with your hand on your belly.
“Knock it off, you’re not huge.”, Will chided while pulling you into a hug.
You stood outside and chatted while Frankie made his way back to you on foot. Frankie hand his hand on your lower back as you tried to not waddle into the arena. Hannah jumped up from her seat when she saw you, pulling you into a hug. She looked you over and squealed, “You look amazing! Oh my god, you’re adorable!”
You saw Frankie talking to Will and then saw Santi in the conversation, too. His eyes look up and he nodded to you and smiled. You nodded back as the announcer started to speak.
Benny’s fight was intense. His opponent was almost evenly matched with him and put up a hell of a fight. Even so, Benny was the victor and was the regional champion. You figured that it could be a late night, given that Frankie would probably want to celebrate with his friends.
Benny’s entourage, Will, Hannah, Santi, Frankie and you, all waiting outside the change room for Benny. Hannah and you continued your conversation from earlier and tried to cram a few months’ worth of gossip and news into a few minutes. Frankie and Santi seemed to be doing the same along with Will. All chatter stopped the moment the change room door swung open, and Benny came flying out towards you.
“Mouse! You came! You saw me win!”, he hollered, as he ran and looked like he was ready to do what he normally did – pick you up and swing you around.
“BENNY!”, Frankie and Will yelled, eyes wide with worry, as Benny got his arms around you.
Instead of him hoisting you up though, he hugged you tight and you did the same right back. Frankie sighed in relief and Will just huffed a laugh and shook his head.
Benny pulled back and looked down at you. “I know better than to fling a pregnant lady around.”, he said with a satisfied smile plastered on his face, then stood back and looked you over. “Let’s take a look at you and see what Fish has been gloating about.”
You smiled and turned in a circle and said “ta-da!” when you pulled the flannel back to show off your bump. Benny hooted and clapped in response.
“Fucking rights, Mouse!”, he hollered at you while the rest of the group laughed.
You all made your way to the same bar you’d met up at before, even finding yourself at the same table, given it was close to the bathrooms for your convenience. Hannah was also not drinking that night and had offered to make sure at least you got home safe that night; she knew corralling up the guys would probably not be easy, and decided that they would cab it if need be. You sat between Benny and Frankie, enjoying your cranberry juice and soda water. Frankie’s arm was around the back of your chair while you talked with Benny.
He was telling you the gossip he’d heard about his opponent while he drank his beer, when the baby gave a big kick to your ribs, causing you to wince.
“Whoa, you okay? What’s wrong?”, Benny asked in alarm. Frankie turned quickly away from his conversation to look at you with a questioning look.
“Baby kicked me in the ribs. I’m okay, Benny.”, you waved him to continue. “it’s fine. Happens sometimes.”
Benny looked as though his mind was trying to comprehend the meaning of existence, then finally asked in the most bewildered voice, “Your ribs get kicked? What the fuck?”
You started laughing and Frankie chuckled behind you.
“Yes, Benny. My ribs get kicked. From the inside.”
From there, Benny asked you questions about your pregnancy, some you hadn’t even thought about asking yourself.
About two hours later, Frankie, Benny, Will and Santi were drunk. One of the bar regulars who knew Frankie knew that you were pregnant and insisted he and his crew buy the guys shots to celebrate. What you didn’t anticipate was that the guy’s crew wanted to buy a round each, meaning that Frankie had four glasses of beer, two rum and coke, and seven shots of whatever hard liquor was poured in him.
Sitting at the table with Hannah, you watched and laughed as the four men enjoyed the libations.
“I’m gonna be a dad!”, Frankie hollered at Will and Benny.
Benny tried to high five him, but missed, and yelled to a fellow patron, “He’s gonna be a dad!”
The other patron, just as drunk, said something but you couldn’t quite hear it. Santi staggered over to Frankie and jumped on him for a piggyback. Then Will, wide eyed with a stupid grin, pointed towards your table. “She’s the mom!”
Frankie whipped his head towards you and smiled, waving. “There’s mama! Hey baby!”
You and Hannah burst into a fit of giggles. The four men came back to your table, Frankie plopping himself down next to you.
“Hey mama… you look hot. So fucking good. Being pregnant and shit. Fuck, I love you.”, he slurred with a grin, hand splayed on your belly. You couldn’t help but grin at the terrible attempt he did at making a pass at you.
“Thank you, honey. You’re great, too.”, you said, trying to supress the laughter.
“Yeah, Catfish. You look good pregnant, too. Fucking… Baby Daddy Fish…”, Santi crooned, wrapping his arms around Frankie’s shoulders from behind and patting his belly like it was a bongo drum while Benny danced in his chair and chanted, “Baby Daddy Fish! Baby Daddy Fish!”
Frankie and Santi started laughing again, and Will abruptly stood up with a glass in hand, startling everyone.
“I have a toast. I have words to say to toast.”, Will declared, wavering on his feet.
“Benny, you did great. Knocked the shit out of that sonofabitch and now you’re a fucking champ – no, THE fucking champion. Proud of you and shit, man.”, he drunkenly stated, then took a drink.
Before you all could join in and take a drink, Will continued loudly.
“And I also wanna say good work to Catfish for knocking Mouse up, ‘cause now I’M GONNA BE A FUCKING UNCLE!”
Will screamed the last part of his ‘toast’, causing most of the bar to look his way then cheer. Your face was red from embarrassment, but the sentiment was not lost on you. Despite the crudeness of Will’s words, you knew he meant well, and you guessed that drunken Frankie would be happy to know drunken Will wasn’t mad at how he’d gotten you pregnant in the first place.
Santi, along with other patrons and regulars at the bar, came over to offer Frankie back slaps and congratulations. You and Hannah laughed.
You knew this was your cue to leave. You and Hannah managed to wrangle Frankie and Will into her vehicle after many sappy and drunk goodbyes from Santi and Benny who wanted to stay out longer.
Once home, Frankie flopped onto your couch, mumbling something about a cactus, and you continued to your ensuite. You, of course, had to pee again.
Once finished, you washed your hands and began brushing out your hair.
“Mouse? Baby? You in here?”, Frankie called out form the bedroom.
“In the bathroom, Frankie!”, you called back.
You saw Frankie’s reflection in the mirror and were met with a very drunk Frankie, smiling like an idiot at you.
You smiled back as he came and stood behind you, eyeing you in the mirror. He leaned in and growled in your ear, “I fucking meant it, mama. You look so fucking good like this.”
One of his large hands lifted your shirt and pushed down the waistband of your leggings, exposing your swollen middle. He palmed at your belly while the other cupped your chin, his thumb running along your bottom lip.
“So fucking hot… Love your body like this…”, he growled while kissing and nipping your neck.
You let out a moan and you hand went up into his hair, knocking his hat off his head. “Oh fuck… Frankie!”, you keened, feeling the heat radiate from his body and his hardon pushing into your back.
“I wanna keep you looking like this, mama… fuck a baby in you every god damn chance I get… breed you... so fucking beautiful…”
You could only whine and pant in response to hearing those words and seeing his eyes staring back at you in the mirror.
“I just wanna worship you… fucking tell you how fucking thankful I am…”, he crooned drunkenly, his hand trailed from your belly to try and cup your heat.
“Oh fuck… yes… please baby…”, you gasped.
He plunged his hands down the front of your leggings, fingers dancing in your folds. Despite how drunk he was, Frankie maintained his ability to get you off with no issue.
He plunged two fingers into you, and you gasped and writhed in his other arm’s grip.
“Please… fuck me, baby… I need you… please!”, you panted as you grinded down on his hands.
He removed his hands after a minute or so, and when you heard him remove his belt and pants, you knew he was not going to take you to the bedroom. He was going to fuck you the way he did when he was drunk – hurried and needy and sloppy - and you loved it. Looking up into the mirror, his eyes caught yours and he reached for your leggings, pulling them down and you stepped out of them.
“I wanna watch you fall apart while I fuck you from behind, princess.”, he grunted as he pushed you to lean forward onto your hands on the sink. “I want you to see how fuckin’ gorgeous you are when I fuck you.”
He spat into his hand and pumped his cock twice before grabbing your hips and pushing into you. You clenched your eyes and gasped at the sudden and very welcome intrusion.
“Open your eyes when and watch when I’m fuckin’ you.”, Frankie panted. He couldn’t hold any composure while being both drunk and balls deep in your cunt.
You opened them, eyes catching his and nodded, needing him to start moving. He snapped his hips into you, each time a moan escaped your mouth. You watched his jaw tighten and brows furrow while he watched you. His breathing came out in huffs while he pounded into you.
“Frankie… please… I-I need…”, you whined.
“So fuckin’ pretty… Look at you… fuck, your pussy is a fucking dream… you’re just too fuckin’ much, princess…”, he pants, and you can feel his thrusts getting messy.
“Please baby… I wanna…”, you beg, but before you can finish, Frankie comes with a few big thrusts and loud grunt. He stills in you, breathing heavily into your neck, and you feel annoyed.
He doesn’t stay in you long, and as he pulls out, his hands grip your hips to turn you around.
“Up’n the counter, princess.”, he said as he tries to get you to hop up.
“Frankie, no… no, I’m not hopping up. I’m too pregnant for that.”, you state annoyed, shaking your head.
You try to push past him, but he stops you. “You didn’t come… you gotta… I need to…”, he panted against your mouth as he reached around and lifted you on the bathroom counter.
He pushes his mouth on yours and kisses you messily. Your annoyance at him melted away and his hand went to your swollen cunt and began pumping you with two fingers; you laid back against the mirror. He got on his knees and kissed your belly and then attached his lips to your aching clit.
You cried out and arched your back and grabbed his hair.
“Oh fuck... yes... Frankie... please... right there!”
He keeps the pace and grunts into your cunt as he licks and sucks on your nub. You can feel your release barreling through your body and you shudder as you come on his fingers and face.
Your body finally relaxes as Frankie pulls himself away from you and falls over on the bathroom floor. He lays back, pants around his ankles and drunker than a sailor on shore leave. You get down from the counter carefully and nudge him with your foot.
“Frankie... honey... you can’t sleep on the floor.”, you laugh as you look down at him on the cold tiles.
He mumbles something in response and opens his eyes lazily at you. He eventually got up, took off all his clothes, and flopped onto your bed. You took your shower, peed again, and crawled into bed next to a passed-out Frankie.
As you started to fall asleep, the baby began kicking, preventing you from getting comfortable. Despite this and Frankie’s snoring beside you, you were content.
--------<3---------
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TAGLIST:
@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @theywhowriteandknowthings @neverwheremoonchild @toxicanonymity @beee-haw @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @rebel-held @lalocitos @heareball @idolatrybarbie
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#frankie morales#pedro pascal fanfiction#triple frontier#frankie morales fanfiction#pedro pascal tummy#francisco catfish morales#chubby frankie rights !!!!!#frankie morales x reader#the catfish & the mouse one shot#the catfish & the mouse#the catfish & the mouse#chubby!frankie eu#chubby!frankie one shot#chubby!frankie#beefro is sweating#beefro beefcal#beefro's bistro#🥩
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Nepty, im humbly asking…
… for more out-of-shape, sympathy-weight-packin, thicc daddy Fish.
So be for you ask, I know… why is this request coming from me? Well… yeah, I got two chubby Frankies percolating constantly in my noggin cottage, but your Frankie… the cannon accurate Frankie with more meat on his bones… I NEED HIM. I YEARN FOR HIM.
please, Nepty - help a thirsty thot out!
I’m-looking-for-the-sky-to-save-me regards,
Beefro👌🥩💜
Come Back To Me - A Frankie Morales One Shot
Hey Beefro! 🖤
Look, I humbly worship at your pot-bellied Pedro Boy altar! I am so not worthy, my friend! And the fact YOU love my canon-realistic thicc Frankie-boy makes this gal blush and squeal like a Red Wattle Hog being spit roasted on Labour Day, seriously... I am in awe of you. 🥹 So, can I do this justice for you, my mighty meat queen? 🤔😬 I mean, I'll give it a (one) shot. 🫣
Summary: Frankie makes you a promise and seals it with more than a kiss.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 2.8k-ish
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️ "It's the emergence, of."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here
Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author's Note: This is part of the Frankie's Way universe. Frankie Spanish translated at the bottom.
Enjoy! 🖤
You can hear the tinkering. It's what wakes you to find his side of the bed empty. Nothing but a heavy indent in the bare sheets.
That tinny sound of metal upon metal clanking as you pad your way through to the kitchen, after checking on Gigi who's still sound asleep in her crib.
You can already hear the expletive slurs in Spanish, and grunts of frustration ebbing in from outside.
You enter the side door leading into the garage, to see Frankie going at the garage door that's rolled halfway up - or down, depending on your outlook - with a handful of tools that aren't doing a thing to appease it loose where it's gotten caught on it's damn rusted hinges again.
You sigh and you hear him growl out in a deep frustration at it.
Sweat shimmers at you from the back of his neck under the nape of unruly curls squashed to his head by his cap, and you wonder how long he's been at it.
Leaning up, his grey t-shirt rises up his back at he stretches, revealing tanned divots in the golden flesh, and a waist that's fuller and dumpy and makes your mouth salivate.
He's packed on a few pounds since settling into fatherhood, and you don't mind at all, enjoying that he might have a third helping of the meals you cook, or indulging his sweet tooth in a rogue dessert or two.
You rouse his attention when he glances at you over his broad shoulder chucking the tools down on the work bench with gritted teeth.
"Hey, did I wake you?" He says concerned, and his expression softening immediately. He traipses over to you and lets his eyes drop over the crumpled silk camisole and shorts you've slept in.
You shake your head as he presses a kiss to the side of your jaw; the soft scruff tickling gently, and his big hands settle on your hips.
"The door's gone again?" You query bleakly, and he nods looking at you with deep chocolate eyes that seem tired.
"Yeah, piece of shit. I don't know if I can fix it this time." He murmurs with a helpless shrug.
You sigh again, knowing it's forcing you to confront the obvious. It's all stacking up in odds against your resolve.
You need a new garage door. You need money to buy a new garage door that you both don't have. You need money for more diapers and groceries that seem never-ending in their need; for new clothes as you've noticed Frankie's wearing the same t-shirts with holes in them that seem to be getting bigger and wider as he stretches them out now with his chunkier build.
You need money for the mortgage payment that's already late this month.
Frankie's putting in the overtime at the workshop, but it just isn't enough. You'd contemplated picking up some hours at a coffee shop or something to help, but he insisted you be with Gigi when he saw how upset being parted from her, whilst she's still so young, made you.
But you both can't keep struggling like this. It's unfair almost. It makes you resent that the guys don't seem to be struggling as much as you and Frankie are.
Will proudly showed off his new TV at the barbecue he threw last week as Frankie scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he flicked through the HD channel offerings, and you were certain Benny wore new sneakers.
You need the money that's buried at the bottom of that chasm in the Andes mountains to buy a new fucking garage door.
Frankie growls into your shoulder with a defeated sigh, seemingly able to read your thoughts.
You've both spoken about Pope's unexpected visit and proposal at length ever since he left the offer hanging over your heads like a precarious weight ready to crush you at any second. Discussed through all the pros and cons.
The biggest con being Frankie returning on a slab of ice like Tom did. You shudder and Frankie's arms are felt caressing at your back.
"You cold, hermosa?" He asks.
You shake your head in defeat. "We need that money, Frankie." You whisper gravely as it cuts slinters in your stomach lining to say it out loud.
It can do so much more than replace the garage door. It can give you a comfortable life, a stress-free life. One where you're not losing your hair in the shower thinking about how you're going to be able to afford to pay the bills this month.
It'll give Gigi a good start, a nest egg. Enable Frankie to get good support with his ongoing sobriety and cut back on the hours you know are killing him. But he never complains despite it all.
It's a beguiling thought that's been haunting you ever since Pope shoved it so easily under your nose, making your fingers twitch with all the possibilities. All the tempting could-be's and what-ifs.
And you want to hate him for it, for passing you a much needed life line. You want to resent the very fabric of the idea of Frankie returning with him and the boys to go and retrieve it because you know what it could cost.
You know what you could lose for the sake of some printed paper. But it's printed paper that you need to live this life with Frankie. A life that you almost lost the first time. You wonder how it would be, if it would be worth it. How he'll be when he returns this time...
You think about the box sitting on the dining table full of his Delta Force gear that he'd packed away and shoved into the attic after last time, vowing it would never come out again as you both realised that stupid expedition almost cost you everything.
You were infuriated to learn it had all been for nothing. He came back with nothing, and more of a loss than when he left.
And now, it's all there. His tac vest, his desert boots embedded with sand, his guns... all ready for him to put back on when you to say the word. Because he wouldn't commit fully to Pope, not without your say so this time. It wasn't about Pope and the others.
It was about you and Gigi. It was about his world.
Frankie nods, pressing his forehead to yours. "I know, baby." He squeezes at your hips gently.
His body is warm from the exertion of trying to fix the garage door. His t-shirt is damp around the neck and under the arms and he smells musky. You run your nose along his shoulder inhaling the salt of him in.
Things had gotten back on track with you both, despite it taking time and effort to repair the holes. He's stayed sober despite this being a trying time. You'd been proud of him for stepping up, for coming back to himself. For realising that he could put Gigi down and she'd be fine, even though most of the time she was sat on his hip as he moved about the house when he was home.
You'd both finally been able to be intimate again after so much trepidation and angst, and it was amazing. Having Frankie back between your legs on an almost nightly basis, even after Pope's damning offer.
And to lose all it all now? The thought bites horribly at your ankles and makes you feel sick.
"Promise me." You look up at him. "Promise me you'll come back."
"You know I will." He says seriously.
"Promise me, Francisco." You repeat. You only use his full name with heavy gravitas and he knows how heavy this is for you. For you both.
Your hands run over the thickness of his own hips, fingers shucking into his belt loops and pulling him towards you. "If I let you go get it, you have to promise me you'll come back. That's the deal."
"I promise. I promise I will come back to you both, te lo juro." Frankie nods.
You nod back as he presses another kiss to your jaw. He trails more up the side of your face into your hairline. Your hands squeeze at his ass, meatier and fuller after months of packing on the pounds, his jeans being tighter against it.
You wonder if this shape and weight of him now could manage such a treacherous expedition. Whether it would be a hindrance or to his ultimate detriment.
You squeeze your eyes shut willing your mind not to go there. It can't. He can't-
"Hey," you feel his fingers tilt your chin up to face him. "I'm coming back," he promises sincerely.
And when Frankie looks into your eyes, you believe him when he says he'll come back for you and Gigi. And he'll come back with the golden ticket you both so desperately need.
"There's no way I'm leaving you, okay?" He says, as you nod despondently. It's the only choice you have and you both know it. You both need this. "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah, I do. We need this," you appease.
"I'll be back within a week. Won't even notice I'm gone."
"Yes I will. I'll be worrying non-stop until you're back here with us." You say, with a faint smile ghosting over your lips.
"I don't want you to worry, baby."
"Too late," you say.
"We're doing it my way. I have a plan. For every eventuality." He confirms. "It's all I can think about. We should have fuckin' done it my way last time. Maybe if we did, Tom would..."
"Don't do that. It wasn't your fault." You say.
He nods solemnly. "I know." You see him quickly blink away the excess moisture pooling in his eyes.
"Besides, I'm always going to worry. No matter how prepared you are, or how big or strong you are..." You say, groping at the thickness of his shoulders and then down to his biceps. You groan as you squeeze them and he notices.
"You like that, huh?"
"I love it," you say with a smirk.
"It's your fault, fattening me up. You're too good of a cook."
"Just more of you to love," you giggle, as he presses his face into yours. He kisses across your cheek and settles on your lips. You can feel how hard he is as he crushes you into his arms and against his stacked body.
Slipping his tongue inside your mouth you can't help but moan and falter in his grip; like pudding slipping through his fingers, your legs buckle and you feel instantly weak for him.
"Prometo que voy a volver, hermosa," he whispers.
Your hands work his belt and zipper as he squeezes your ass.
"I believe you," you confirm. "I'm gonna miss you so much." You gasp around his lips. You can feel all the heat in your body flooding towards your core.
"I'm gonna to miss you too, baby."
"Show me," you entice.
You reach in and pull out his fat, leaking cock into your hands without hesitation. You both groan at the sight of it; swollen thick and with a flushed head and succulently wet.
You trail your hand up, pushing his t-shirt out of the way to get a better view of the tanned paunch he has settling over his hips. You run your fingers across it, skimming gently and making him shudder before taking a handful of his belly and squeezing gently as you jerk him slowly in you other hand.
He whines, his own hands pulling down the straps of your camisole and taking your freed, puffy nipples into his mouth.
"Mmm, Frankie..." you groan, as he latches on, sucking and nipping across them both hungrily. "Fuck me," you plead.
You need him. You need him inside you filling you up with more than his promises.
Quickly, he pulls you to him and pushes you against the work bench. Turning you so your back is against his chest, and pulls your shorts down as your hands reach behind you, knocking his cap off and clawing through those sweaty curls desperately.
He reaches forward and swipes his fingers between your thighs finding a slick, wet pool waiting for him. You arch your back and groan out as his fingers tease through your folds, circling on your clit making your thighs shake.
"Fuck," he moans into your hair. "Siempre estás tan lista para mi."
"Baby, I need you," you sigh, reaching round for his cock that's leaking more wet strings onto your butt cheek as you grind against him.
You feel his stomach crush into your back as he groans when you touch him. He's so heavy against you and you pulse at the thought of his weight sinking you into the mattress beneath him when he fucks you hard in bed.
He lines himself up, sliding his thick head through your drenched lips, once, twice before he sinks himself into you, stretching you open again around him.
You both cry out, a little louder than you probably should with the garage door rolled up halfway. Anyone passing by on the street at that moment would see both your bare legs and know immediately what's happening. But you don't care.
You need him. You need Frankie like this, all thick and heavy and crushing against you with his warmth and heavy belly as he buries himself deep into your sopping cunt from behind.
You need to remember the feel of him like this on your body whilst he's gone.
His arms wrap around your stomach holding you tight against him as his hips shunt up and fuck you deeply. Every breath catches in the back of his throat as he does it, and your whines and moans only grow louder.
Twisting, your lips find his as he sucks in breaths with each hard thrust, his hands sliding up to massage and grope at your breasts. Both of you locked tight together, squeezing and gripping on to one another.
"Mmm," you groan around his teeth. He feels so good, filling you full of him. His thick thighs hitting against the back of yours, the weight of him against you making you safe and warm. Knuckles bruising against your own as you scramble for one another and lock fingers.
His digits on his other hand play with your clit, circling around that buzzing hub of nerves as your thighs shake again, and you can't help but bend forward into the pleasure of it all as it builds.
You feel it at the back of your skull, blooming like a flower with petals unfurling that blind you. "You feels so fucking good, don't stop!" You whine as you hold onto the work bench.
He grips onto your hips and fucks you harder now; thighs now slapping against your ass as he bottoms out continuously, filling the deepest parts of you with him.
Frankie leans over, kissing over your shoulders and neck. You feel his teeth indent and bite as he sucks the skin there. "Fuck, baby." He whines close to your ear. "Want you coming over my cock," he hisses.
"I'm close," you pant.
"I know, I can feel you squeezing me." He smirks as he sucks more of your skin into his mouth like he's starving. "You feel so good, I can barely stand it, baby."
You stand up, pulling from him and turn, sitting on the bench as you wrap your legs around his waist. He pulls you closer to the edge as he slides back into you.
You cling onto his shoulders, your face pressed against his as he fucks deeper and slower. His cock hitting against that spot that makes you dizzy and absolute putty in his hands.
You watch as his belly ripples each time he flexes his hips and you can't help yourself but to reach down and stroke it. He chuckles as you paw at it mesmerised somewhat by it's jiggling.
"You're so fucking sexy, Frankie." You moan as his hand joins yours, guiding it down to your pussy where he makes you stroke your clit for him.
"Not as sexy as you," he says, slipping his tongue back into your hot mouth.
You rub your clit as he thrusts deeper and you're almost there, right on the cusp. Feeling it build and pile up behind your abdomen as your thighs and legs tense and your mind goes hazy.
"Fuck, Frankie!" You wail, your voice escaping under the garage door and into the street.
"Come for me," he says and it's all you need as you burst, gasping out and shuddering as he holds you tightly and fucks you through it. "Baby, come for me."
"Come back to me, Frankie," you gasp clutching onto him.
"I'm coming back to you," he promises again.
"Don't leave me."
"Never."
"I need you back here inside me like this," you croak. "Fucking me like this with your big, thick cock... oh fuck!" You cry out as the wave subsides, leaving you shook and rattling.
"I'm coming back... fuck, I'm coming-" he stutters "I'm-I'm gonna come, baby... shit!"
You feel him tense and then gush, filling you full of warmth as he slows with a choke at the back of his throat. You stroke over his belly again, pinching the sides of his rounded hips gently as he smirks into your hair.
"You really like that, don't you?" Frankie says, watching as you grope his belly fat gently, lovingly.
He's noticed the extra love and worship you show his more wobbly parts these days. And it warms him to know it doesn't put you off. He knows you have hang ups about your own body since giving birth, but he couldn't find you more beautiful; stopping to lavish attention over the jagged lines and stretch marks on your tummy and hips when he goes down on you.
His cock falls from you, dripping his creamy spend onto the garage floor at his feet. You can feel it drip out of you too. He runs his forehead against yours sticky with sweat and hums contentedly into your face.
You kiss his soft, pink lips as you rub his stomach more. "I'm going to miss this the most whilst you're gone," you say with a dreamy smile.
Smiling at you, he knows it'll be alright. He'll make sure of it.
He's coming back to you.
🖤
Spanish Translations:
Te lo juro - I swear
Prometo que voy a volver, hermosa - I promise I'll come back, beautiful
Siempre estás tan lista para mi - You're always so ready for me
FRANKIE'S WAY | MAIN MASTERLIST
#pedro pascal x reader#frankie morales x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#frankie morales#frankie morales smut#chubby!frankie#triple frontier fic#francisco catfish morales#jett's asks#jett's writing
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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 21
Howdy darlin'
Welcome to the 21st Spreadsheet Digest. If you're new here, this is every fic I read this week, each with a little summary and my unhinged thoughts about it. This week we have 24 fics!! It's a lot because I decided to try to read one fic each from "small writers" that were recc'd on this list. I obviously didn't get all the way through the list, but I plan to continue this week! (I also read a few other things)
As always, you can find the original Spreadsheet here and all my previous fic recs here. Here is my masterlist and my kofi, if you feel so inclined.
Fic recs below the Pedro (and Nik) <3
Hotel Hobbies - a Jack series by @loversandantiheroes
Guys, friends, my loves, listen. Whiskey gets tied up!!! Ok so like the summary is that you're at a hotel for a conference and you meet a cocky cowboy at the bar and then some stuff happens and then the next night some not canon but canon typical stuff happens to Whiskey and that influences the next bit of fun stuff that happens between you two and... holy fucking shit dude this is HOT.
Sundown - a Joel one shot by @bageldaddy
You live in a trailer park and Joel moves in to the trailer across from yours. You're a young woman living on your own and he's old and doesn't really seem to have family. You get close and.. ya know. Listen... I love the way this fic captures the place they're in? Like as a kid who grew up in a trailer and in a tiny town in bumfuck nowhere, I felt very connected to the location of this fic and I loved how it was depicted. Stuff like changing out the skirting of the trailer is nostalgic to me lol. But then also just the way Joel is characterized here? And don't get me started on the smut. (babes there's somno in here!! and also realistic depictions of trying to fuck Joel "Monstercock" Miller). This fic made me happy idk.
Tease - a Javi P one shot by by @amanitacowboy
Javi forgets his lunch at home and you decide to take it to him at work... wearing nothing under your dress. So Javi decides to tease you and sends you home to wait for him and you're not allowed to touch yourself while you wait... but then of course you break the rules just to get him riled up and... he gets very riled up. This is so hot. Like the smut is filthy, but you can also tell how much they love and care about each other throughout the whole thing. Incredible <3
You're a Mansion With a View - a Joel one shot by @atticrissfinch
Daddy Joel takes really good care of his baby. That's it. That's the fic. And it is everything. I love Katy's dark fics with all my heart, but I think Daddy!Joel might be my favorite
Frankie and Din - a Frankie/Din one shot by @avastrasposts
This is so fucking funny and adorable. I love it so much. Basically Din and the N1 show up at Frankie's airfield and Frankie wants to test drive the N1, but Din is the way he is. Listen... it's like grumpy x sunshine but like they're not fucking? But hear me out. Part two.... I'm just saying. Din doesn't let just anyone pilot his ship.
An HR Nightmare - a Javi P one shot by @beefrobeefcal
Chubby Javi P!!! I speak from experience... quitting smoking will do it to ya. I love grumpy chubby Peña so fucking much. Silly stubborn man. You are his secretary and you love watching his tummy round out and you feed him hard candy and other sweets all the time. The ending too... Damn. Two words, friends: office sex. And it is glorious.
The Riding Lesson - a Jack one shot by @bluestar22x
You're a new trail guide at a ranch and Jack gives you a lesson on how to ride western! I know absolutely nothing about horses or how to ride them or anything, but this was still lovely to read! It's got a cute bit of flirting with the pretty cowboy and is overall just very cute and lovely.
Stages of Grief - a Joel one shot by @bonezone44
This is for all of us who have shitty families lol. You finally come to terms with the fact that your family fuckin sucks and Joel helps you through it. If you've ever fantasized about a gorgeous man loving you through a mental breakdown, this will be delightful for you (me lol). I really adored this. It hit home and I loved the message and I loved how understanding and firm Joel was in it.
The Angel in Me - a Dieter one shot by @chaoticgeminate
Dieter Bravo as an angel? Never expected that. He's in training and he gets put on gate duty when he meets you (gn!reader bc you get to pick when you get to heaven i think?). You were a fan of Dieter Bravo back on Earth and you very happily give him a blowjob in thanks for uhhhh something. Spoilers. This is hot and kind of sweet? Dieter is the king of being a little depraved in the sweetest ways ugh.
Acting Out - a Din one shot by @cool-iguana
Din goes on a hunt and you decide to tease him over the comm link, breaking the rules not to touch yourself and driving Din absolutely crazy. When he gets back he punishes you. Bruh... light daddy kink, spanking, bondage, edging, little bit of overstimulation... this fic has it all. And then the aftercare is also so sweet? I'm so obsessed with this
For the Love of Horror - a Dieter series by @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist
So you start dating Dieter and you're a horror film nerd. Dieter, however, is a scaredy cat. Absolutely terrified. This is like... a loosefit series, but this is the first one and it's cute all by itself (although I obviously recommend reading the rest of them too). There's flirting and nerding out over movies and Dieter being adorable. It's perfect tbh.
The Vagabond Gladiator - a Joel series by @dark-scape
Gladiator!Joel!!!!!!! He's a vagabond and he shows up with The Innocent, a young virgin (Ellie) desitined to be sacrificed to save the city. You are a Vestal Virgin, sworn to protect the city and also to be pure. This series does such a good job of taking elements from canon and blending them into this AU. It's a really interesting read -- I was fuckin riveted -- and the smut is... so fuckin good.
Dangerous Games - a Din one shot by @decembermidnight
You hide under the kriffing table at the cantina on Nevarro and give Din the bj of his life while he talks to Karga and it's hot as fuck and also a little funny bc he's like trying to keep his cool and not doing a good job of it. And then obviously he cannot let this stand so he drags your ass back to the ship and fucks you stupid. Dom!Din is sooooo hot ugh. This fic is incredible. 10/10
My Brother's Keeper - a Joel series by @diversemediums
So this is the first chapter of a series that I am so so excited to read. You were Tommy's gf in the QZ and he when he decided to leave, you didn't go with him. Tragically... you find out you're pregnant 3 months after he leaves. So you seek out Joel and he comforts you and he's so fucking soft and sweet, but still in that gruff mean QZ!Joel way lol and he's lowkey down bad for reader but she doesn't know that. I seriously cannot wait for more.
The Parents That Are Left - a Joel one shot by @frenchiereading
Joel had this patrol partner, Iris, who he adored. She was kind of like a daughter? Not in the Ellie way and def not in the Sarah way, but he really cared about her. Anyway she died. And this fic is him going to visit her mom (not romantic btw). This is just such a beautiful, painful portrayal of grief and a wonderful little snapshot of two people who lost their kids bonding over their tragedies. I love it so much.
Boss - a Javi P series by @guess-my-next-obsession
JAVI P IS FUCKING HIS BOSS AND YOU'RE THE BOSS???? What's not to like man
Salty Caramel - a Jack one shot by @iamskyereads
Guys, friends, my loves, my darlings. It's an Agent Whiskey sex pollen/fuck or die fic. Like. This is devastatingly hot. This is everything my depraved little brain has ever wanted.
My Girl Now - a Joel one shot by @psychedelic-ink
Your boyfriend is a fucking asshole who is super controlling and just genuinely the worst and he hired Joel to redo your kitchen. Joel is soft and sweet and wonderful and makes you feel lovely.... and then he absolutely rails you on camera, has you call him Daddy, he says all kinds of mean shit to your bf, etc. And then your petty ass actually sends it to the motherfucker. Perfect. No notes. This is amazing.
A Piece of Cake - a Frankie one shot by @idolatrybarbie
Frankie is your ex and you see him at the bowling alley and have to contemplate like... why you broke up and you remember the good times and shit and it hurts. Bea likes to hurt my feelings.
No Entendemos - a Frankie/Santi one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear
You're lost in the street in Italy and come upon two dudes who don't seem to speak English and try to ask them for a phone to use to call your friends. You are not aware that Frankie and Santi, who are going to try to get their money from that one heist back, def speak English. You're also caught off guard by what happens next... TW NONCON.... I'm in love with the dynamic between Frankie and Santi. The way Santi is this dark driving force, pushing Frankie to do fucked up shit. And Frankie has lost so much already in his life because of this dude, I think he's given up on trying to be good.
A Good Friend to Have - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters
YOOOO okay Kel's fucking boyfriend wrote this fic. You help your friend get away from the big scary bounty hunter by distracting him. You tell him you'll give him information if he does what you ask.... Friends this is dub con (for Din, not reader), sub!Din, with helmet riding, orgasm denial, and edging and a little (creed based) blasphemy. It's so hot.
Blood Money - a Dave/Max P series by @theywhowriteandknowthings
You are a bookkeeper for the fuckin vampire mafia and they keep you naked and chained in a basement, barely fed or hydrated. You get rescued though! Yay! Oh shit you get rescued by more vampires. You think this will be a bad thing but it... actually doesn't seem like it's gonna be all that bad. I have a little BTS knowledge and am delighted to tell you that this is eventual Reader x Max x Dave. Y'all know I love a throuple... and now we're adding in vampires. Excellent.
Whatever's on Tonight - a Joel one shot by @inthe-dark-tonight
You go on a little get away vacation with Joel and... fuck in the hot tub. This is pure porn but it is also so soft and sweet and perfect? Joel is an angel man and I want to kiss his perfect forehead. I love this.
Fucking Your Best Friend's Brother - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters
You're hanging out with Tommy and Joel for Christmas. Tommy is your best friend and he has a massive crush on you. You're not into him though, you're into his brother. Joel notices this and decides to do something about it. Mean Joel, super hot dom!joel. Slapping and spitting and all the good shit. This is fucking amazing.
-------------------------
I also wrote a lil fic this week!
Red Right Hand - a Max Phillips one shot by meeee
This is a follow up to I Bite Back, but you don't need to read that first. It can stand alone and you won't be confused. Sub!Max Phillips x vamp!Dom!reader <3
------------------------
Happy Reading!
#fic recs#the spreadsheet digest#fanfiction recommendations#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro fics#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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Frankie "Catfish" Morales Fic Recs
A Helping Hand by @dameronscopilot
One shot - Benny Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales
Be Polite by @jksprincess10
One shot - sub!Frankie Morales x dom! f reader
A Fond Farewell by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin
Mini-Series - Frankie Morales x f!reader
My Girl by @foli-vora
One shot - Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales
Frankie Snippet by @ozarkthedog
Drabble - Frankie Morales x reader
The Catfish & The Mouse by @beefrobeefcal
One shot series - Chubby!Frankie Morales x fem!reader
The First Time by @fettuccin-e
One shot - Frankie Morales x afab!reader
Day 3 - Exhibitionism by @tropes-and-tales
One shot - Frankie Morales x f!reader
Time by @pedropascalsx
Drabble - Frankie Morales x f!reader
A Soft Place to Land by @guess-my-next-obsession
Drabble - Frankie Morales x gn!reader
Cravings and Crash by @pedge-page
Series (unfinished) Frankie Morales x f!reader
Vis-a-Vis by @hier--soir
One shot - Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader
This literally belongs in a museum and I'm not joking
Tonight You Belong To Me by @intheorangebedroom
Series (Ongoing) - Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
UPDATED 12/3/23
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Ana's Masterlist
Warning: I write SFW and NSFW, so, please, pay attention to warnings and rating. If you're a minor, I don't get any responsibility if you decide to read anything unappropriated for your age.
Who I write for? Agent Whiskey.
I'd like to write for Joel Miller, Javier Peña and Frankie Morales, but I don't think I have the skills for it.
Things that are not of my business (which means I'll not write them even if my life depends on it unless I'm getting paid for it haha): Spanking, edgeplay, protected sex, reverse cowgirl, doggy style (unless we're talking about pegging), deepthroat (yes, I'm a vanilla b*tch about some specific subjects 😂).
DM's and requests are always opened. Feedbacks are more than welcome.
List of stories:
Series:
Piece by piece
After being intentionally placed sitting side by side in a bar by their friends, Jack and Ana realized they have more affinity than they expected. Tastes align in multiple things; both are passionate about animals; and both like the idea of living on a ranch surrounded by animals, furthermore, at the end of the day, there are open wounds that only someone who has been through something similar can understand.
Cowboycember
A series of pre-Christmas stories with dear cowboy Jack.
Angel of Music- Theater AU
After almost 25 years in theater, your favorite actor, co-star, and friend Jack Daniels decided to retire. Your last work together will be The Phantom of The Opera and, taking your role as Christine way too far, you're not ready to let your angel of music go.
Cowboytober (Kinktober 2023)
Flufftober 2023 with Agent Whiskey
One-shots:
Agent Whiskey's NSFW alphabet.
Agent Whiskey's SFW alphabet.
It's not too late for a goodnight kiss
Agent Whiskey comes home late just to find his wife and daughter missing him.
As long as you hold my hand
After a hard day, you met Jack at the bar, and he ends up surprising you positively.
How much does devotion weigh?
Your thoughts about your husband's appearance end up on a good morning sex or Jack became chubby after retiring from Statesman and reader is obsessed with it.
A taste of what you asked for
Jack decides to prove you that not only his mustache can have a porn vibe.
Rodeo prizes
After meet Jack and Joel, you couldn't resist the idea of get into their bed.
So fitting for happily ever after
You got jealous because of a past situation with his secretary, so Jack makes sure to calm you down aka Jack eats reader on his office desk.
Everything I post here will probably also be posted on my AO3.
#agent whiskey#agent whiskey fic#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#jack daniels#jack whiskey daniels#Kingsman: the golden circle#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrostories
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☆guidelines for requests
So, first thing first, before sending a request, please check if my requests are open or not. The current status will always be on my header description.
☆generals:
When requesting,please, show some kindness, I'm not a bot, a "hello" and "thank you" are always nice.
My current job is, actually, being a writer as a living. So I might not be able to immediately complete your requests, I'm doing this on my free time and sometimes I’m not in the mood to "work" (write) again.
I do not guarantee to write the requests you're sending to me, it will depends on my inspiration.
English is not my first language. Forgive me for the weird sentences you may cross on my writings here.
I'll gladly accept both sfw and n/sfw requests. But, N/SFW requests must be off anon and are not allowed for the minor/ageless blog. However, I understand if you want to keep your privacy. If you want your nsfw request to be anon, please, just precise you want to stay anon on your request and I won't show your name when I post. ♡
⇢ I absolutely love writing : hurt and comfort, fluff and funny, smut&kinks. Minors, please DNI with my +18 content or I’ll have to block you.
Fandom : I only do One Piece prompts for now. Consider I'm always caught up in the manga and in the anime. So don't be afraid to spoil me when you request. If the request contains a huge spoiler, then, I'll use this specific tag : #op spoilers. Block it, if you don't want to see that content.
Reader : gender neutral, AFAB reader, AMAB reader, female reader, male reader, transgender reader, non-binary reader. MM, FF and MF pairings are all fine for me. However, I won’t write for male reader with female character. And I only write character x character for the ship I personally enjoy.
⇢ By default, I'll use a gender neutral reader for requests. If you want a specific reader, please, precise the gender!
⇢ Regarding the apparence, I want to keep the reader as neutral as possible. But I can do some exceptions, if it's still vague enough to include a large groupe of people. For exemple : chubby reader, black reader etc. I do not accept requests based on an OC, except for a giveaway or as a winner prize.
Age : only 18+ characters
Type of post : one shot (over 1,000 words), drabbles (under 500 words), headcanons (multiples characters, bucket list)
⇢ One Shot : 1 character per request. Please, give me some details and ideas of things you want to read in the OS. And if you request for a smut os, I need to know what kind of smut you're looking for, kinks included
⇢ Drabbles : 3 characters per request, or less. again, please, give me some details or precisions, I need to understand clearly what you're looking for.
⇢ Headcanons : 5 characters per request, or less.
⇢ Group headcanons : how the characters would react in a situation. a small paragraph per type of reaction, with the list of all the suitable characters
☆characters I'll write for:
⇢ my fav characters are in bold
⇢ i do not write smut or romantic prompt with Minks or non-human like character.
Bartolomeo, Buggy, Cavendish, Corazon, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Eustass Kid, Hawkins, Izou, Kaku, Katakuri, Killer, King, Kiku, Kuzan, Luffy (only sfw prompts with Luffy), Marco, Mihawk, Nami, Paulie, Portgas D. Ace, Rob Lucci, Robin, Roronoa Zoro, Sabo, Sanji, Shanks, Smoker, Trafalgar Law, Usopp, X Drake, Yamato (he/him)
Characters I won't write for: Blackbeard and Blackbeard crew, Brook, Roger, Kin'emon, Kanjuro, Franky, Benn, Akainu, Kizaru, Apoo (it doesn’t necessarily means that I dislike those characters, just that I’m not comfortable writing for them. No offense if your favorite one is listed here)
⇢ if the character you would like is not on one of those lists, just send your request and I'll let you know.
☆I don't accept requests with:
dub con ; rape, even as a consensual play ; stepcest/incest kink ; cheating ; abuse ; pregnancy ; somnophilia, even consensual ; daddy/mommy/and any kind of family kink ; water sport, scat; hateful and religious topic ; self-harm, suicidal intentions.
⇢ Please, take care of you and your mental health if you struggle with that kind of thoughts, everything will be alright, but I know it can be hard sometimes. You're enough and you're loved. ♡
⇢ Dysphoria (I don't know enough about this to provide an accurate text, nothing personal and you have all my support if you're facing dysphoria)
☆some kinks idea i can write for:
⇢ if you're unsure about a kink, feel free to ask
⇢ some of my fav are in bold
69, anal sex, aphrodisiac, begging, biting, blindfolds, body worship, bondage, breeding kink, choking, clothed sex, cockwarming, creampie, creative use of Devil Fruit, cum play, dacryphilia (nothing with dubious consent), deep throat, degradation, dirty talk, discipline, dom/sub dynamic, double penetration, dry humping, face sitting, face fucking, fingering, femdom, food play, gagging, gloves, group sex, hair pulling, handjob, hickeys, lingerie, loss of virginity, massage, mirror sex, nipple play, oral sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, panty stuffing (mouth), pegging, praises, public sex, rimming, roleplay, rough sex, sensory depravation, size kink, soft sex, spanking, squirting, striptease, teasing, temperature play, thigh fucking, thigh riding, toys, vaginal sex, wax play
#yone piece headcanons#one piece smut#eustass kid x reader#one piece x reader#guidelines#one piece requests#blog rules
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Room’s on Fire: Bonus Chapter: Go Insane
In the Room's on Fire universe, Jonah's POV. Takes place the day before the pilot.
Summary: Jonah is told who he will be escorting to the ceremony. Iris pities her father.
Warnings: General dark themes of ROF, do not read if that' not your thing. Mentions of abuse, SA, alcoholism, father-daughter strain, death wish, all that. By clicking read more you understand I cannot warn against everything.
***************
"Two kinds of people in this world
Winners, losers
I lost my power in this world
Because I did not use it
And I go insane like I always do
And I call your name, she's a lot like you
Two kinds of trouble in this world
Living, dying
I lost my power in this world
And the rumors are flying" Go Insane, Lindsey Buckingham
Drinking was the only way to get through the day, most of the time. Jonah functioned with a buzz most days, something to dull the ache, something to make looking at Iris sweating in the kitchen, bags under her eyes as she slaves away because of him. Something to make it bearable as he watches her dancing with Reyansh, knowing he’ll never hold her like that again. It’s the only way he can suffer through life knowing Jessica is dead just for being his wife.
Knowing all the women and men he’s loved are dead. Not all were his fault, but even if they weren’t… he felt like everything he touches burned down.
Knowing nearly everyone he’s loved even non romantically was dead, and that just meant Iris and Rey were next.
Knowing once Iris is dead, there was no reason for him to be alive.
“Jonah” Santiago walked into his room without knocking. Jonah wasn’t allowed locks.
Jonah rolled his eyes before rolling over. He didn’t like Santiago. Hated him. Yeah, honestly, the fact he was a sniveling little psychopath brat was his fault, seeing as he was the main male figure in his life. Jonah probably fucked up that chubby little toddler too.
“What?” No need for niceties and formalities. Jonah has known Santiago and Frankie since before they could talk.
“We found our madonna. You gotta bring her here tomorrow for the wedding.”
Jonah rubbed his eyes. “What the hell is a madonna?” Grunting, he began to sit up. He couldn’t keep up with this bullshit anymore, Beatriz liked to change things.
“The madonna.” He said, as if it was obvious. “She’s gonna marry us, give birth to the savior?” Nothing.
“What the fuck is a savior?”
Santiago groaned, rolling his eyes. “The one mighty and strong? Savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?”
“Santi what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Jonah.”
“Oooohhhh” Jonah said with a sarcastic edge, rubbing his bleary eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be the messiah.”
Santi shot him a look so dirty Jonah wondered if he’d take out his gun and shoot him for that, but Jonah wasn’t really sure he cared enough to try and stop it.
Instead, he continued. “The savior.” He corrected sharply. “And I think you’re well aware of our doctrine, seeing as you spent more time with my mother than I did.”
“Your mom kept me a little too busy to worry much about theology.”
Santiago stared at him for a long time after that. “You know, I don't really know why I kept you around. I could’ve just burned you alongside Marcus.”
“Probably should’ve.” He thought about it sometimes. Would’ve been easier. Sometimes, Jonah wished he would’ve died right there with his friend instead of drinking himself to death, wallowing in his guilt every day. But, as always, Santiago was quick to remind him why he couldn’t just swallow the barrel of a gun.
Bent over, hands on his knees, Santi got to Jonah’s eye level. “But then who would be here to protect Iris? It’d be a shame if she had to suffer more for the sins of her father.”
As good a threat as Jonah’s ever heard. He sighed. “Who's the lucky lady?”
And then Santiago said her name, and Jonah’s blood ran cold, more sober than he’d been in a week.
“You know her?” Santiago asked, and Jonah couldn’t tell if he was taunting him or not. “Marcus’s kid?”
“Yes, I’m familiar.” He was more than familiar. He’d been following her life as closely as he could while remaining discreet. It was the least he could do after Marcus took the fall. He’d watched he grow from a traumatized 12 year old forced to dance as her father burned to death next to her, to a shy, reverent, respectful young woman of 22 years. Jonah couldn’t say she’d adjusted well; she was nervous, jerky movements and startling at loud noises, she didn’t have a single friend. From what he knew of her prior to the uprising, she was an awkward child already: inward, quiet, thoughtful. Social interactions didn’t come easy to her, but she was devout and had a talent in painting at a young age. The few friends she had were gone when her father was outed as a traitor, and for 10 years she was estranged from her community.
Now, she was about to be thrust into one of the most powerful roles there was for women.
“Yeah, I’m familiar… what exactly is she doing?”
Santi explained it all, how she was to be married to all of them, pregnant with their child, be the Madonna, the mother (but not the Divine Mother, he clarified).
Married to all 4 of them, each with their own issued a girl as sensitive as her would suffer with.
Santiago and his constantly changing moods, the flashed of fire and rage and unpredictable cold.
Will with his charm, his golden tongue, his ability to talk you out of the good and into the bad that serves him.
Ben and his addictions: alcoholism, coke and a fuck ton of sex with everyone he could get his hands on, despite breaking Frankie’s heart.
And Frankie…
Frankie was softer, kind, a lover at heart caught in a love triangle he never wanted. Francisco was a broken down man, and a girl as gentle and devoted to her gods as she was would give every piece of herself to fill the cracks.
“Think you can handle it?” Santi asked, jerking him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, whatever” Jonah took out his bottle again, taking multiple big chugs to numb that growing panic. He’d done everything he could to keep her under the radar for Marcus and yet he was the one taking her right into the den of vipers.
Santi mumbled a swear. “Just have her at the house by 2 pm for Iris to dress her and help her get her thing in the carriage.” He almost left, walking out the door before turning around. “Lay one single hand on her, and I’ll throw Iris to Ben, got it?”
Jonah couldn’t help but glare at the younger man. “She’s 30 years younger than me, Santiago. That’s disgusting.”
Santi shrugged. “She’s about the same age Delilah was.” And walked off.
He knew that’d shut Jonah up.
World spinning, Jonah laid back down and rubbed his eyes, trying to fight back tears of frustration. He was failing, constantly. He failed Jessica, Delilah, Marcus, Iris and now he would literally be walking the only thing left of Marcus, and innocent child, traumatized and desperate for affection that was stripped away from her at a young age. She ripe for the picking, ready to do anything to feel loved.
Anger at himself only growing, Jonah’s feet kick as he growled and pulled on his hair. He was a fucking failure of a father, husband and friend. Everyone he loved would be dead, including his daughter, the one who mattered most and was suffering because of him. She deserved different. She deserved better. Better than him. She deserved a happy life with Reyansh and he ruined all prospects of that for her and she would die miserable and hating him just like everyone else.
“You’re fucking pathetic.” He announced to himself, glancing over to see himself in the mirror. Had he always looked this old? No… no he had some good years left in him still… he had to get his shit together.
Marcus would absolutely never, ever just lay down and drink himself to death. He wouldn’t just wallow in his fucking misery. Marcus would fight for change every chance he had, and Marcus would never in a million years have just taken Iris to this fucking house left her. He’d have protected Iris like she was his own.
Jonah sat up and stumbled to the mirror. He looked fucking awful. Uncombed hair and a gray beard, looking like he hasn’t slept in years. He had to fucking pull himself together. He had to help Marcus’s kid survive the whirlwind she was walking into.
He needed to fucking shave.
*
Iris heard a crash from her dads room. She almost didn’t go investigate; she wanted to sleep. But then she heard the sound of vomiting, and as much as she wanted to have as little involvement in her fathers binge drinking, fucking, moping around, she couldn’t let it go.
“Jonah?” She called, walking into his room. At first Iris didn’t see him, but then she saw two legs sticking out of the bathroom. Walking over, she found him propped up against the tub that had puke in it and blood on his face. He was gripping a razor. “Dad!” Iris ran to him, taking the razor out of his hand. He was too drunk to behandling that.
“I’m-” Hickup. “Fine, honey.”
“Why are you bleeding!”
“I was trying to shave.” Jonah’s words were slurred, head bobbing a bit as he chuckled. “It didn’t go well.”
Iris closed her eyes and sighed. For a moment, she had thought he was trying to hurt himself, leaving her behind like the coward he was… No, he was just shaving. Once again, she wanted to walk away, go find Rey and spend her limited freetime with her lover… but fuck, he locked pathetic like this. Half his beard shaved off, bleeding, puke on his lips and about ready to pass out.
“C’mon, up” Iris assisted her dad in standing long enough to sit on the toilet where she cleaned off his face and rinsed the puke down the drain. Then, she covered his face in shaving cream. Careful of his fresh cut, which wasn’t all that deep, Iris bent over Jonah and carefully shaved his face, her non dominant hand tenderly holding him still. She tried not to look at him, looking up at her with his sad brown eyes. She didn’t want to feel more sorry for him than she already did. She was supposed to be angry.
After patting his face dry, Iris slung his arm over her shoulder and walked Jonah to bed.
“I don’t deserve you.” He mumbled as she pulled the blanket over him.
She wanted to say no, you don’t. You were never there for me. You never put me first. You didn’t protect me . But that would get them nowhere.
“Go to sleep. We got a busy day tomorrow.”
He started snoring almost immediately. Iris bent over and kissed his cheek.
***************
Jonah Jonah Jonah.... he's trying his best.
Go Insane is soooooooooo Jonah coded.
I've been learning about the mormons for my research apaper, so "the one mighty and strong" is now joining terms for the baby alongside "the savior of the broke, the beaten and the damned"
I'm so eepy and must go to work. chapter 12 is slow going. Got writers block rn so im sorry. school comes first.
you guys voted rey your fav oc which made me so happy. I love my lil guy.
@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa @mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg @sub-aro @wand-erer5 @pixielou5
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Take Care of Me
Pairing = Santiago x reader
Words = 5.5k
Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more … concrete
Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex
A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthings as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesn’t exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know you’re not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules y’know?
Posted to AO3
Masterlist
***
It’s always easy to be loose after one of Benny’s fights.
It’s a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. You’re normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and there’s no need for your teammates to know too much.
You’re all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.
It’s a small comment from Benny (because of course it’s Benny), saying that you haven’t got laid in a while, and you’re honestly surprised he noticed. But then, that’s the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.
Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Benny’s statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, who’s sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.
“Well maybe if you guys didn’t look like you’re about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe I’d have better luck.” That’s a lie, but there’s no way you’re going to tell them the truth. No way you’re going to tell Santi-
Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. “So you’re asking for our help?”
You scoff, hitting him up the head. “No, thank you.” Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, he’d been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”
You send a wink down to the table to Benny, who’s the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though you’re not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.
You continue, deciding you’re quite enjoying the effect you’ve had. “What do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?” You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pub’s other patrons.
That sip means you’re unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. “Maybe ‘stranger’ is where you’re going wrong.”
You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, “I could take care of you.”
You catch a glimpse of Santi’s fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, “Does that mean you have toys?”
Frankie’s hat somehow tips lower on his head, if that’s possible.
Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. “Of course.” The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. “Who doesn’t?”
There’s a blush rising on Benny’s cheeks and you can’t help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. He’s still not too ashamed to ask though. “What kinds?”
Will decides he’s had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way you’d hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction you’ve gotten. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. “Yes! Yes I would!” He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.
***
Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. He’s been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.
And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.
With you, there was a before in Santi’s life, and an after.
Before he knew you; and after he knew you.
Before he loved you; and after he loved you.
Except Santi’s not quite sure when he fell in love with you.
It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you weren’t like anyone else.
He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Will’s friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasn’t). He’d wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.
He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He can’t remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.
Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didn’t even realise he was doing it.
Santi’s still impressed with himself that he didn’t just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.
How long had he been in love with you for? He couldn’t pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when you’d become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.
You’d made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until he’d had a go. You’d talked and talked, and Santi can’t even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that he’d used to keep the conversation going the next day.
He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.
But he didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.
The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasn’t you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santi’s previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they weren’t you.
They didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didn’t know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.
You did. What you weren’t there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didn’t even really know existed.
You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, you’d started bringing him coffees. He hadn’t noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.
Until, a month later, you weren’t there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew you’d be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what he’d thought was his usual coffee.
And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, definitely hadn’t linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadn’t disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.
He hadn’t even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadn’t noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.
You hadn’t noticed at first, assuming that Santi’s bear hug when he’d first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.
“Are you alright?” Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and you’re chewing slightly on your bottom lip.
He hates that he’s the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. “I’m fine.” That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.
“Santiago!” He’s pulled up short, and there’s that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Your tone of voice hasn’t changed, but this time it’s a command.
Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t...I don’t know.” He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. “I don’t know.” He sounds defeated, and he hopes you can’t hear it. “I just...I feel…” How does he feel? “Jittery.” Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.
You frown, looking him up and down like you’ve never seen him before. In fact, you’re silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that you’re going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.
You don’t, but you ask questions.
Has he been sleeping? “Not really.”
Does he have something big coming up? “Just the usual.”
Has his daily routine changed at all? “No, I don’t think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-”
You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.” And now it’s wrong, because now you’re looking at him like it’s your fault, when it definitely isn’t. “Santi I’m sorry. It’s your coffee.”
Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesn’t understand why. “I switched you to decaf.” You can’t meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And you’re not shutting up. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-”
Santi cuts you off with a hug.
And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments you’ve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what you’d look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-
Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. There’s never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when they’re sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.
And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-
In the end, it’s you who breaks him out of his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed Pope.” You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.
Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like it’ll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. “No.” Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“Good,” you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you can’t resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. “Out of all the boys, I figured you’d be the most likely to use toys.”
Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. “Or maybe Will,” you muse, and Santi coughs again. “Shit, are you alright?” You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santi’s back for a second.
He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you won’t see him blush.
Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but it’s not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. It’s so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar they’re all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.
“Good,” you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.
Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Benny’s ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Will’s upper arm, and Santi’s eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?
“I’ve used handcuffs,” he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. He’s wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and he’s reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.
Fuck, you’re sexy though.
***
Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.
I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-
“Yeah?” You ask, trying to act calm when there’s a steady thrumming under your skin. “And are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?”
Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.
“I do the tying.”
You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. “Sure about that?”
He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you don’t even think he realises he’s doing it. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. That’s been happening more and more lately, especially when it’s just the two of you. You like it.
“You want to test me babygirl?”
You feel breathless. “Maybe I’d like to try.”
You’ve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And he’s closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate.
“That’s not what good girls do.” Fuck, his voice.
“Good girls don’t do a lot of things I do.”
And you’re not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. It’s a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you don’t care.
And then you’re retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.
And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and there’s a smile threatening to take over his face.
Come here.
You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. It’s familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.
And then he’s kissing you again and it’s everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.
You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. You’ve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and you’re the first to speak.
“So do you use those handcuffs on anyone?”
Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. “Hmm, just on girls I really like.”
You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. “Can I use them on you?” Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, he’s all you care about, all you can feel.
Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? “Yes.”
“Good.” Santi’s voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. “How do you feel about a date, too?”
“Yeah?” You lean back slightly so you can see his face. He’s beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.
His lips are brushing yours again.
“Yeah. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.”
“Good,” you mumble against him, “that sounds really good.” Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. “Shall we go?”
Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. You’d responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.
Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. “Can I really tie you up?”
You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. “It’s ok, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, it was just a-”
You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, it’s a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesn’t hear. “Break out the handcuffs, and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you act, big boy.”
Santi groans when you lean away from him.
Getting inside Santi’s flat is a feat in itself, and you’re honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.
You’ve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you don’t protest. It’s so nice to finally kiss Santi like you’ve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.
His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.
Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like he’s about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.
When you don’t he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. “Step back.” His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.
In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.
Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.
You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. “You taste so good,” he groans, “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.” As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santi’s arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santi’s tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.
One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santi’s short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.
Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next you’ve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.
He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. He’s murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job you’ve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.
Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.
Now it’s your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
And then his body weight is gone and he’s standing next to the bed, taking his top off and it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, of course it isn’t, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santi’s all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.
You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what you’re pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe it’s because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe it’s the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.
When Santi turns back to you, he’s opened the cuffs. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”
You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you don’t know why, this is Santi. He’s made it clear that you don’t have to do this, and anyway you want to. “Green is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,” you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.
“Good girl,” he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadn’t known existed. “You say something and I’ll untie you.”
You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santi’s jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. “What if I don’t want you to untie me?” You ask.
You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me you understand,” he says, voice stern and you shiver.
“I understand,” you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. He’s hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.
Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, he’s stepping back, shaking his head.
“Lie back,” he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. “Colour?” Santi asks, and you grin up at him.
“Green.” Your voice already sounds broken. “Santi, please.”
Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.
“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Why don’t you come down here then, instead of just watching me?” Santi’s hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.
“You’re unhappy with my hands?” Santi returns, and stops touching you. You can’t help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you can’t, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.
“No, Santi,” you’re desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you can’t touch him,“Santi please, touch me again, touch me more.” Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santi’s moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.
You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.
It’s only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, “Santi, Santi please,” that he begins to push into you.
Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. “Fuck, baby.” The stretch of him is delicious. “I wanted this for so long.” Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. “Colour?” he asks softly.
You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. “Green.” You feel full, like this is how you’re supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.
“Good girl,” Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. “You liked that? You like being told what a good job you’re doing, how good you feel around me..” he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.
You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santi’s butt. They don’t stay there for long, one of Santi’s arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.
Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.
His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell he’s near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. “Santi, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?” You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. “Please Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-”
You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.
He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. “Good girl,” he murmurs, massaging your skin. “You did so good for me.”
He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santi’s cum leaks out of you onto the rag.
“That’s kinda hot,” you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.
He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. “Do you want me to do it again?” he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.
“Yes,” you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.
“Good.”
There’s a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.
“You were right,” you murmur near his ear, “Stranger was where I was going wrong.”
It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and it’s like he hung the sun in the sky. “Yeah? I took care of you?”
You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. “Yeah.”
***
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Tags: @fantasticcopeaglepasta
#Santiago x reader#Santiago Garcia x reader#Santiago pope x reader#Santiago pope Garcia x reader#pope x reader#Santiago Garcia#Santiago pope#Santiago pope Garcia#triple frontier#fanfic
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Carnival Games
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader
Warnings: Fluff. Competitiveness. Frankie being a cute dad.
Word Count: 1,131
Author’s Note: This is inspired by this week’s Writer Wednesday challenge from @autumnleaves1991-blog
Summary: You and Frankie are determined to win a prize for your daughter at the carnival.
Taglist Form - Masterlist
Frankie watches in amusement as you draw your eyebrows together in concentration, handing over another ticket to the carnival worker behind the booth. Within a minute you have promptly failed, once again, to hit anywhere near the target when it pops up. It’s cute, really, the way you jump in surprise every time it appears, Frankie decides. The second-long delay before you move to aim at the target throws your timing off, and when the bells ring out, signaling that your turn has ended, you let out a dramatic sigh. The dejected pout on your face perfectly mirrors Isabella’s as she squirms in her stroller. It’s been a long day for her, the hours since the three of you had arrived at the carnival filled with more excitement than she’s used to. The sticky remnants of the chocolate ice cream cone she had earlier are still smeared on her chubby little hands and face no matter how many wet wipes you’ve gone through trying to clean her up. It’s past her bedtime, the sights and sounds of the carnival tiring her out more than usual, and she’s growing crankier by the second.
The little amusement park had been crowded this afternoon, the squeals of delight and roar of roller coaster cars racing past on the wooden tracks filling your ears, your other senses consumed by the sickly sweet scent of cotton candy and Coppertone and the flashing lights of the carnival games. You and Frankie had both been excited to bring Isabella here now that she’s old enough to enjoy some of the smaller attractions. The highlight of your afternoon had been sight of Frankie cramming his long legs into the little train ride with Isabella in his lap. It was nothing short of adorable, and you made sure to document every second of it on camera for the group chat you and Frankie have with the other boys, which is almost solely dedicated to photos of Isabella.
“If you’re done putting the fear of god into those pop-up targets, I think the princesa demands we take her home,” Frankie announces. “We can always just buy her something from one of those booths on the way out.”
“Those are for quitters, Francisco,” You shake your head. “I’ll just try one more time-”
“Babe, you said that twenty minutes ago,” he points out. He’s right, but the thrill of the carnival has you hooked, and all hope of rational thought has gone out the window while you sit in front of the game.
“It’s rigged!” you declare in your defense, looking over your shoulder to him. You’ve spent the better part of a half-hour at this same booth, shooting at little pop up targets with a laser gun, all the while insisting that you would win Isabella a stuffed animal to take home as a memento. Twice you’ve ordered Frankie back to the ticket booth, determined to win something no matter what the cost- which, at the moment, is looking like roughly thirty bucks, and counting. At this point, both you and Frankie realize that you could just buy her whatever stuffed animal she wanted and pretend that you’d won it for her, but you’re stubborn. You refuse to be one of those lame parents who buys their kid the consolation stuffed animals by the front gates because they can’t win them anything.
“It’s not rigged.” Frankie shakes his head. “Your aim sucks. So does your technique.”
You scoff, attempting to make yourself sound and appear scandalized even though you know it's the truth.
“Well, alright then, Mr. Military Man. If you think you can do so much better, why don’t you give it a shot?” You’re taunting him, but he takes the bait just like you knew he would, your competitive natures not allowing either of you to let the challenge slide.
Frankie chuckles, gesturing to the wall of stuffed animals. “Which one do you want, Isa?” he asks with a smirk. The toddler stares up at the prizes dangling above her head, her gaze landing on the giant bears on the top row. She raises her arm to point at them, Frankie trailing her line of sight. He hears you giggling beside him when you realize what she’s pointing to. He would need a perfect score to win one of those.
“That’s my girl,” you coo appreciatively, crouching down next to Isabella’s stroller to bump her tiny fist against yours. “We’re gonna make your dad eat his words, aren’t we?”
“Seriously? Honey, I’m a professional,” Frankie reminds you. “I can do this in my sleep.”
“That doesn’t matter. As I said, the game is rigged.”
Rolling his eyes, he hands a ticket to the teenager manning the booth, taking a seat on the stool you’d previously occupied.
From the look on his face, you knew that no part of Frankie had expected himself to fail. It was a carnival game, and he’s a former special ops soldier. By all accounts, Frankie is a force to be reckoned with, with deadly accurate aim. If he can’t hit those targets, then you assume that your assessment had been correct; it really was rigged.
But there Frankie sits, stunned into silence as the carnival worker hands him a small, pink frog. A pathetic little prize compared to the bear he’d set out to win for his little girl. He just stared at it for a moment, the button eyes seeming to mock him. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Good job, baby,” you cheered, taking the frog from him and handing it over to the toddler. “Isa, look what daddy won for you!” You watch Frankie’s eyes dart from Isabella to the giant bear on the wall. She was already gnawing on one of the frog’s stuffed toes, cuddling into it happily.
“I’m going again,” he decides, already digging out another ticket from his pocket.
“Frankie, it doesn’t matter,” you remind him, the clarity of logical, adult thinking settling in now that you’re no longer being lured in by the carnival game’s illusion of simplicity. “You won her an adorable little frog, and now we can go home-”
“We aren’t leaving here until I win that big ass teddy bear,” he declared, cutting you off. He says it with all of the determination and resolve of those little old ladies you’d seen camped in front of the slot machines at the casino you’d visited on your honeymoon, and you realize that the carnival has claimed the impulse-control of yet another seemingly sane adult, all in the name of your toddler and a giant purple bear. With a wild look in his eyes, Frankie nods for them to start the game again. You have a feeling you’re going to be here for a while.
General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest @supernaturalcat7 @maythxthirstbxwithyou
Pedro Character Taglist: @coldlilheart
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Francisco “Catfish” Morales
Frankie Morales plants a garden for his girlfriend
Frankie conforting reader
Making love in front of a fireplace
Lazy Morning Kisses
Helping Frankie with nightmares
One Summer Night
dark Frankie head canons
“You want to do this right now? Even though we could get caught?”
semi-public sex in a tent
Frankie putting his hat ON YOU while he eats you out
edging
First Dates
“But there’s only one bed in there” part II
Stop pretending you're okay cause I know you're not
”I had a bad dream again”
the sweetest taboo
overstimulation
Frankie taking you from behind
some casual intimacy
Headcanon for kissing
midnight cravings and other starry-eyed confessions
Being on top, moving your hips so slow
Cockwarming sub Frankie
nap
i just wanna dance with one (1) francisco morales in the kitchen at midnight
cracking the headboard
Francisco Morales giving you forehead kisses
"Just for that, I'm gonna suck your clit 'til you go blind."
In front of a mirror
trust and ice cream
touch the sky
Neighbor!Frankie masterlist
finger me til i’m crying
take it slow
Red Handed
couch sex
You can leave my hat on
Communication
would really like it if frankie called me a good girl and a slut
rain k*ss with Frankie
he walks in on you only wearing his dog tags
Santiago “Pope” Garcia
Ride or Die
Bulletproof
Body shots
First time w/ Santi and Finn
wholesome barbecue
what would absolutely go down during makeup sex after an explosive fight
Friends without benefits
Santi’s tired.
NSFW alphabet
the city lights can wait
Accidental stimulation
Get a Room
Small joys
Not in Kansas anymore
Fuck Training
trivia night, girlfriend
Vanity Fair
let love consume us
Provocatio
Dusk Till Dawn
Santiago Garcia x Reader x Frankie Morales
nothing could be finer (incompleto, en curso)
Marshmallow Fluff
moving day
Home
Catfish takes ya’ll on a fishing trip
Benny Miller
fight night
'I think you're just afraid to be happy'
Finally
You Wouldn’t Last a Day
Use Me
headcanons by mylifeliterally
headcanons by mandoplease
This is a Locker Room, Babe
Waking Up in Vegas
having your hair pulled by benny
taking photos
Stormy Weather
when reader is sleepy, ben often sings to them
Benny’s praise kink
chubby!girl
Ben joins a bowling club of grandmothers
him telling how much he loves you
Her Protector
Heart to Heart
Intimate moments w/ Ben (not only sexual but just in general)
Ben and his plants
Benny with his sweetheart, and it’s her first ever time in bed
back roads, driver’s seat
Coffees & Cactus. Part I, part II, part III, part IV, part V. (Wrote by me)
Will Miller
Lady May
Let’s Get Something Straight
Headcanons for Will in bed
Home
No Shirt, No Problem
road tripping with the guys, part II
“I thought things were going great”
Will Miller NSFW Alphabet
Will Miller and cuddling
Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Ben Miller, & Will Miller x Reader
Team Building Exercise (incompleto, en curso)
TBE boys how they act when they’re drunk
Cuddles headcanons by damndamer0n
Cuddles headcanons by dignityneeded
When you’re making cookies in the kitchen…
Background Headcanons
Surprise!
Like You’re Mine
#Triple Frontier#triple frontier imagine#triple frontier x reader#triple frontier fanfic#catfish x reader#frankie catfish morales x reader#Francisco 'Catfish' Morales#catfish morales x reader#santiago pope garcia#santiago pope garcia x reader#ben miller#benny miller#benjamin miller x reader#benny miller x reader#ben miller x you#ben miller imagine#william miller#william ironhead miller#william miller x you#will miller x reader#catfish x reader x pope#pope x catfish x ben x will x you
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https://x.com/discorobak/status/1696111755909300397?s=46&t=WH4bIMHLTxVR1rMw3VWJ_w OKAYYY i saw this tweet and thought: what if mouse and frankie go on a camping trip and mouse packs a bunch of classic camping food like hotdogs and burgers and popcorn… but especially S’MORES. and frankie loves them so much that he have a little fun with it… (along the same lines as the just desserts update if yknow what i mean 🤭) so excited for more updates, i love frankie and mouse so much !!
HELL YEAH, NONNIE. This is dedicated to all the new Friendos Beefro has made on the platform-formally-known-as-Twitter. Y'all got me riled up!
Beefro 👌🥩💜
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Beefro Proudly Presents:
a Chubby!Frankie one shot
The Catfish & The Mouse: Camping Can Be In-Tents
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
Summary: After a dry spell, Mouse gets Frankie into the wilderness.
Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)
Word Count: 3,326
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, oral (m receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), eating, belly praise, belly stuffing, rough sexy stuff, fingering (f receiving), hair pulling, tail-gating.
Author's Notes: I know it's been a bit... between a crisis and a cold, your friendly neighbourhood Beefro was shooketh. Thanks for kicking around! Thanks to @nevergoingbacknowshine and the TDS brigade, and of course to the lovely @theywhowriteandknowthings and @harryleatherfit
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You had both been so wrapped up in your work lately. The stress of your jobs made the time you were spending together strained; arguments leading into tense bedtime routines had become more normal, and that intimate connection had become something neither of you could bring yourselves to admit you needed from one another. It had been over a month since he’d fucked you, let alone touched you like that and it sucked. You missed your sweet, soft, gentle, fuckable Frankie, him being replaced with an irritable and short-tempered grouch, although you did see the odd fleck of his old self come though occasionally. And you knew he missed his Mouse; you’d become an overly emotional and temperamental silhouette of yourself. That’s why this weekend was so important – it was your reset, your chance to reconnect. You’d suggested it, knowing that Frankie would jump at the chance to go camping.
You could hear Frankie swearing in the garage as he collected all the camping gear while you packed the food in the various coolers and bags.
“Mouse? Need your help.”, he called out.
As you started to move towards the garage, his calls out to you became a little more panicked.
“MOUSE?!?”
“I’m coming, Frankie!”
Opening the door to your garage, you tried not to laugh aloud at the sight before you. Frankie was wedged between the wall and your spare fridge, trying to reach the packed-away tent on the shelf above and had caused several other stored boxes to come dangerously close to toppling on his head from the top of the fridge.
“What are you doing?”, you laughed as you pushed the offending boxes back into place with a broom handle.
“I don’t know what happened! I guess I bumped the fridge too hard or something....”, he grumbled as he unwedged himself. “I got in there no problem when I put the tent away last year.”
You smiled and patted his belly, straining against his now-too-tight t-shirt. “Well, I would say that there’s a bit more to you than last year, honey.”
He looked down at your hand on his tummy and huffed a laugh as he gave you a blushing smile. “Yeah... I guess so.”
You helped Frankie collect the rest of the camping gear and load up his truck for the morning.
*****
Pre-dawn departures were Frankie’s specialty, not yours. Despite him not being a morning person, the prospect of getting out of the city and on the open road, along with years in the military, had him all sunshine and rainbows at 4:30 am, while you were trying to keep your eyes open long enough to get from the bed, into your jacket and into the truck. Frankie already had your air Pods, a blanket and pillow in the passenger seat for you, knowing that it would be a lost cause to ask you to bring them yourself.
By the time Frankie backed out of your driveway, you were back asleep and didn’t answer him when he asked if you wanted a coffee as he turned into the McDonald’s Drive Thru. Even without an answer, he got you one, as well as enough breakfast sandwiches to keep himself entertained for a good part of the morning.
You finally felt rested enough to open your eyes by 9:30 am to see Frankie humming along with his music, tapping gently on the steering wheel.
“Hey... have a good sleep?”, he asked smiling when he saw you pull your air Pods out.
You nodded and groaned as you stretched and yawned. “Not a bad sleep... where are we?”
“About an hour or so from the lake.”, he responded with a grin.
Frankie was about to be in his element; in the outdoors, his survival instincts kicked in high gear, and he loved every minute of it. You, on the other hand, felt lost without cell service or Wi-Fi, and detested with every fiber of your being the creepy crawlies that seemed to come out in droves at your arrival. But part of Frankie loving the outdoors was trying to keep you as comfortable as possible so he could enjoy you at the same time.
*****
Arriving at the secluded and private site was the easy part; setting up was not so much. Frankie was trying to get the tent set up, and since it was put away in a hurry last year and he didn’t check it when you got home or when he pulled it out the day before, everything had come out of the bag in a jumbled mess, and you had made the mistake of pointing out his folly right after he’d realized he’d forgotten his hammer.
"If you would just let me help, Frankie!”, you pleaded with thinly masked frustration at his inability to take your help.
He grunted as his eyes narrowed at you from under his ball cap and you stared right back at him.
He broke the stare first with an eyeroll and a huff, returning to the tangled mess that would hopefully be your tent and you turned and started to unload the truck. By the time you’d unloaded, gotten the bags and containers arranged, and set up the chairs around the vacant campfire, Frankie had gotten the tent up and was crouched down, hammering the pegs into the ground with a rock. You couldn’t help but watch as his broad back moved and flexed under his t-shirt, while his thick, beefy arms were bursting out from the sleeves. You longed for those arms to toss you down onto whatever surface was available and have his body pin you down and fuck you senseless. God damn it, you missed him in a debilitating way that made you feel hollow.
He caught you staring and briefly gave you an unreadable look then went back to hammering more pegs, and you could feel the flush of heat wash over your body. God damn it, you needed him.
It was well passed noon when Frankie got the fire going and you’d gotten the stuff out for hot dogs. Maybe you could ease yourself into his arms with food? You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t realize your mouth was open and you were staring at him again until a bird flew far too close to you and snapped you out of your thoughts. You quickly tried to look like you knew what task you were trying to complete, but Frankie saw the whole thing. His eyes met yours for just a moment and you gave him a small, forced smile, trying to play it off like it was nothing, like he didn’t see what he thought he saw. Your eyes went back down to the cutting board on the picnic table and the onions you were slicing up for the hot dogs.
Getting the metal rods out, you pierced the hot dogs on their ends and started cooking them. Frankie set up the air mattress and set out the sleeping bags. You were tempted to tell him yours could be left in the truck so you could share one, but you kept your mouth closed and focused on the hot dogs. Once ready, you silently plated them in the buns, dressed exactly how Frankie liked them and you placed the plate in front of him. You forwent your own, your stomach in knots, and started cleaning up, knowing the lecture you would get if it weren’t done properly because it could attract bugs and god knows what else to your site.
Frankie sat and ate his hot dogs, and after he finished one, his irritation cooled down. He watched you, his desperation for your touch had increased after he caught you ogling him. He knew he’d been completely out of line as of late, his frustration at his work dog piling on you for no other reason than you were in the line of fire. Your back was to him as you dug through a bag, and he watched the way your lithe body move. He imagined the sweet noises you would make for him as he railed you against the truck. God damn it, he needed you in a way that should have made him feel filthy.
He realized you were looking for his pajamas to put in the tent for him. His heart skipped a beat when he looked in the tent and saw his toiletries and swim trunks laid out on his sleeping bag; you were taking care of him, and he felt like a complete asshole. God damnit, he missed you.
*****
For the rest of the afternoon, the two of you moved through a slow dance of silent, touchless fore playing, catching one another giving once overs and longing stares, while trying to break the other’s resolve with movements. By the time you pulled out what you’d planned for dinner – two big cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli and garlic toast – you’d decided that he was going to fuck you, whether he knew it or not.
“We can just have hot dogs again, baby.” Frankie’s voice, although softer and gentler than it had been in a while, cut through the silence between you, but you didn’t want to look up to him, you wanted him to come to you and make you stop. So, you pretended you couldn’t hear him while you stood with your back to him and the fire.
You had no idea he’d gotten so close to you when he gently put his hand out and took the can opener from you, placing it on the picnic table. He held your hand in his, feeling your body tremble with just his touch, and turned you around to look at him. This was the gentlest with one another in over a month, and you could barely contain the utter arousal and excitement at this small, sweet act of intimacy.
He pulled back from you, and you looked up at him. His soft brown eyes were screaming in need, scanning your face and begging for you to say something. So, you did.
“I miss you, baby, and I – “
Frankie cut you off abruptly by smashing his lips onto yours, his mouth fiercely fighting to get any kind of barrier between you gone. Your body melted against his as he pulled you further into him. His tongue ran along your lips, looking to deepen the kiss further, and when he was granted entrance, he moaned into your mouth and his hand ran down your side and hitched your knee up onto his hip.
Finally parting, and both panting to catch your breath, your lips still almost touching.
“Fuck, Mouse… baby… I miss you, too…”
He kissed you again and as you both found your rhythm again, his belly grumbled loudly, telling him it was time to eat.
“Fuck…”, he grumbled as he pushed his forehead against yours, and you smiled at him.
“Let’s get you fed, baby.”
*****
Almost a full pack of hot dogs later, Frankie was getting full. Sitting back into his camping chair, he stifled a burp and smiled at you.
“You want any more?”, you asked, holding up one of the metal rods.
He raised an eyebrow at you, then grinned. “No, princess… I gotta have room for dessert.”
Frankie stood up slowly, and as he reached his full height, his full tummy pushed up his t-shirt. He stood in front of you and cupped your jaw, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looked down at you. Your lips parted and your breathing quickened, anticipation of what he would do or say at an all-time high.
“You got any marshmallows, princess?” His voice was low and thick with need as his eyes looked into yours.
It took you a moment to realize what he’d asked you, not anticipating that.
“W-what?”
“Marshmallows.”, he spoke slowly with a dark grin on his face.
You turned and reached for the grocery bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. He removed his hand from your jaw and took it, then reached for the metal rod. He winked at you and returned to his chair by the fire. As he got few marshmallows onto the rod, you stared at him, confused and horny.
“Frankie?...”
“Better get those clothes off if you don’t want to get s’mores all over them, princess.”, he said in a nonchalant voice, not even looking up at you.
You hesitated but remembered that you’d specifically booked a private site, and other campers would only be able to hear you. Once fully naked, minus your slider sandals, you stood off to the side of Frankie, and he looked over at you.
“Fuck, baby… missed you…”, he groaned slack jawed, his eyes racking over you. He reached out for your hand and pulled you to straddle one of his legs, and his sticky fingers tweaked one of your nipples.
“Frankie… fuck, I need you…”, you moaned as you shivered at his touch.
He grabbed one of the toasted marshmallows off the rod and a piece of chocolate, squishing them together between his fingers and dragged the warm concoction down the valley between your tits. You yelped and his other held you firmly in place.
“Told you I needed room for dessert, princess.”, he said huskily, then licked his wide, flat tongue up the chocolaty trail and sucked on your neck.
“Please, Frankie… need you so bad… don’t tease…”, you begged in a breathy, desperate voice.
You began to rock your core against his rough denim as he smeared more s’mores on your nipples and chest. He licked and sucked the sugary residue off you as your weeping, aching cunt drooled, and you grinded your core into his jeans. Every time the rough denim texture hit your clit in just that way, you arched your back into his mouth and moaned, while he repeated his smearing, licking and sucking. You needed more so you reached your hand down and began to palm his crotch and could feel the weight of his thick, heavy cock coming to attention. He whined as he held your nipple between his teeth and his hips bucked, pushing his full belly into you.
Your bodies were screaming for the other, too long since you’d touched one another like this, and the need and desperation was heavy in your breathing and grasping of each other.
He dropped his head back and grabbed your arm, pulling you hand away from his rock-hard cock, but your hips grinding against his jeans kept going.
“Mouse… gonna come in my pants if you keep that up… wanna fuck you… please baby… gonna come on my jeans? Huh, princess?... So fucking needy… Jesus… missed this body… come on, baby… keep going…”
He watched you, his hands only holding you in place and not assisting with your movements. You could feel you were close, and his words just egged you on to your climax. You cried out as you came but didn’t break eye contact. Frankie’s grip on you tighten, and his hands began to move you to keep your hips grinding his leg, and he groaned at you while you came through gritted teeth
“Atta girl… good girl, yeah… make that pussy weep, princess… that’s it, baby… soaking my jeans… can’t wait to fuck your sweet little pussy again… been too long…”
Before you could fully come down, Frankie had you standing and was bending you over the open tailgate to his truck, then ran a finger into your glistening, swollen folds before plunging it into your weeping hole. You cried out and arched your back, but his hand rubbed between your shoulders, coaxing you down. His hand splayed out on your back and held you firmly in place as he added another finger and increased his speed.
“Yeah, baby… pussy missed me… I missed her so fucking bad…”, he panted, his eyes focused on watching his thick wet fingers disappear over and over into your cunt. “Never want to go that long without you again, princess… fuck you look so good getting fucked on my fingers… so fucking wet and warm… come on, baby… know you’re close… I can feel it… let go… come on, princess… be a good girl and come on my fingers then I’ll fuck you raw…”
His final words shot through you, and you came loudly and squirting all over his hand and arm. You could hear the liquid splashing onto the dirt; it was obscene, and it was perfect.
“Good girl…”, he praised breathlessly, pressing a kiss to your back before sucking his fingers clean.
You could hear his belt being undone and then heard his jeans being tossed onto the ground. He grabbed your hip with one hand and used the other to line himself up with your entrance. Slowly pushing in, he moaned, and you whined, trying to push your hips back into him to make him go faster.
“So fucking impatient… So fucking needy.”, he grunted as he held you in place and buried himself to the hilt into you, and you felt his full, heavy belly resting against your ass.
“Frankie… please move, baby… need you to move…”, you begged, crying out pathetically.
He huffed a laugh and gripped your hips hard in his large hands.
“Need me to be rough, princess? … need it hard?”, he grunted as his hips began to move slowly. Frankie wanted to savour this with you, he didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to spoil it.
“God, please, Frankie!”, you cried out, his slow movements agonizing and leaving you needing so much more.
“Promise me, princess… promise me you won’t let me go that long again from burying myself in your gorgeous pussy…”
His hips started to thrust at the same pace but harder, and you panted a whiny “uh-huh!” in response to him. It was enough of an answer for Frankie. His hips began to snap into yours faster and harder.
The weight of his bulk behind you mixed with the momentum he was building pushed him deep into you each time he thrusted and forced out a loud cry from your mouth. You’d more than likely have bruises on the front of your thighs from the tailgate, but you didn’t care.
“Oh fuck… Mouse…. Baby… missed this… god damnit, your pussy’s like heaven… fucking Christ… yeah… oh fuck, fuck, fuck… baby, not-fuck!... not gonna last much longer… need you to- ugh - come…”
“I’m cl-close… oh fuck… oh god… Fr-Frankie… please… please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!”
You came with a loud cry, arching your back again and Frankie pulled you flush with his belly and he thrusted into you.
“Frankie… please… come in my mouth… wanna eat your… your come…”, you panted, and he groaned, pulling out of you.
You turned around and he grabbed your hair, pulling you down on your knees, and he shoved his hard, glistening member into your mouth. He fucked into your mouth for a moment, and his hot spend shot in ribbons into your throat and mouth, spilling out onto your chin and chest with each thrust.
He finally stilled and grunted as he stood back and watched you run your fingers over your chin then suck his come off your digits, humming in satisfaction.
“Fuck…”, he groaned as he watched you, moving backwards to sit in the camping chair again.
You stood up and walked towards him; leaning forward, you pressed a messy kiss to his mouth, sharing your combined taste with him and receiving a hint of chocolate from him. You pressed a hand down on his full belly and smiled.
“You still got room in there for more dessert, Frankie… What can I get you, baby?”, you asked with a wry grin, lifting his shirt and rubbing his stomach.
He looked up at you, eyes looking glazed over in desire. “You, princess.”, he breathed back.
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TAGLIST:
@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#frankie morales#pedro pascal fanfiction#triple frontier#pedro pascal tummy#frankie morales fanfiction#francisco catfish morales#chubby frankie rights !!!!!#frankie morales x reader#beefro's bistro#chubby pedro pascal#chubby!frankie one shot#chubby!frankie#🥩#you ask beefro answers#you asked beefro answered#THOT TANK
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the teacher’s pet // neville longbottom
Summary: the reader visits their husband, Neville, at work
Request: Neville Longbottom but after the war, maybe being married and visiting him at hogwarts with your toddler?
A/N: this was so fucking cute I screamed also I wrote hagrids bit like a normal person but then I was like nope let’s be real here Hagrid has his own brand also I watched philosophers stone while writing this and oh boy Neville makes me cry
Reader: unspecified, parent
Warnings: children
“How was that, baby?” you asked, pleased to see your daughter’s smiling face cheerful despite the appariting. You sighed, releasing a shaky breath. “At least someone liked it.”
It seemed she was better at it than you were, you thought as you readjusted her in your arms and swallowed the bile that crawled up your throat from the process. She giggled as you shifted the gift bags in your hands and when you glanced at her, your chest tightened a little bit. She really was perfect. With her pretty green eyes and mop of dark hair, she had Neville written all over her face and you couldn’t help the way your heart soared as you looked at her.
“Come on then, darling,” you whispered, stroking her cheek with the back of your hand. “Let’s go find your dad.”
Walking through Hogwarts after so long was a strange experience. After the battle, they’d rebuilt all the fallen structures and the new and improved architecture of the school seemed foreign to you. Most of the hallways were familiar; at the back of your mind, you remembered running down them with Fred and George, sneaking off with Neville in the dark of night, silencing his worries with stolen kisses. You shook your head at the image of Ginny throwing a bat-bogey hex at Malfoy, a fond smile on your lips. There were so many memories that lingered in these corridors and one day your daughter would make her own. You were so wrapped up in your reverie you barely noticed the eleven-foot-tall man wandering down the corridor towards you.
“Y/N?” he said, drawing your attention away from the curtain you’d once hid from Filch behind, Neville’s grip eating into your hand with nerves. “Blimey, I thought that were you. Barely recognised yeh’-“
Hagrid stopped in his tracks as you turned around, your daughter taking a break from her goal of shoving her whole blanket in her mouth as she stared at the giant of a man.
“Now, who is this?” Hagrid asked, creeping closer and crouching down to make her less nervous. Your heart softened at the thought, even if he was still obscenely large and looming.
“Say hello,” you whispered, squeezing her leg lightly. The blanket dropped from her mouth as she grinned.
“Hello!” she squealed, reaching out to Hagrid with grabby motions. “Big man.”
He cooed as she barely managed to wrap her fist around his little finger.
“Oh,” he whispered. Tears filled his eyes. “She’s a beauty, she is. What’s ‘er name?”
You smiled, bobbing her up and down gently as you pushed a lock of hair from her face.
“Frankie,” you said. “After-“
“Neville’s dad, yeah,” Hagrid cleared his throat and pulled away, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “A great man was Frank Longbottom.”
He nodded solemnly. “How is he doing? And Alice?”
You paused, swallowing as you thought about the last time you’d visited Neville’s parents. It had been the same as the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before. It was always the same.
“They’re alright,” you said, an optimistic take on the situation. “As expected, I suppose.”
He nodded again before he straightened up, his eyebrows raising.
“You’ll be here to see Neville, won’t yeh’? It’s just turned lunchtime.”
You chuckled at him, biting your lip as you shifted the bags in your hand, remembering why you were there.
“Yes,” you said, watching Frankie with a small smile. “It’s this angel’s birthday today.”
“’Er birthday?” Hagrid thundered, earning a few grumbled murmurs from the portraits around you. “Well, in that case, yeh’ must get on; ‘ave to make sure she sees ‘er dad on ‘er birthday. You know where to find ‘im, don’t yeh?”
“He’ll be where he always is, Hagrid.”
You laughed again as he shooed you off, smiling as Frankie waved at him.
The walk to the greenhouses was a familiar one as you retraced the steps you’d made so many years ago; this time without the gaggle of students surrounding you, laughing and joking, but with your daughter in your arms, eating your jumper. You heard Neville before you saw him, his confused muttering carrying under the glass roof of the large room. A grin stretched at your cheeks as you finally saw him leaning over his desk, frowning deeply at a pile of essays on his desk. He looked up at you when a floorboard creaked underneath your foot.
“Hi, love,” he said absentmindedly, before returning back to his work, scratching away will his quill on the parchment. You smirked, treading closer.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, head darting up when he realised who was in his home away from home. “It’s you.”
“It’s nice to see you too, handsome,” you said, smiling as his chair scraped against the floor.
“Dada!” Frankie squealed, reaching out her pudgy little hands, her grin only widening when her father lifted her into his arms.
“Hello, little one,” Neville whispered, bobbing her up and down. He chuckled as she placed her hands on his cheeks, his eyes shining with an adoration that made your heart flutter.
“How’s my favourite husband doing, today?” you asked, setting the gift bags on the floor and kissing him on the cheek, moving to sit on his desk.
“I should hope I’m your only husband,” he said happily, tearing his eyes away from Frankie to look at you, the same adoring look in his eyes.
“You should be so lucky,” you said, grinning when he shot you a dry glance.
“I’m kidding,” you huffed, pecking him on the lips as he walked past. “What more could I ever want?”
You enjoyed the blush that spread over his skin, biting the inside of your cheek as he distracted himself by playing with Frankie, watching her tug on his finger. A strange longing filled your chest.
“How was she this morning?” he asked, turning to you again.
“Good as gold,” you said, waving your fingers at your baby girl. “Bit grumbly when I told her she couldn’t open anything yet, but when I told her that she’d get to see her daddy, she lit up like a Christmas tree.”
You brushed her hair from her face as he brought her closer to you, a wonderful pride flooding through him. “Didn’t you, baby?”
Her smile lacked teeth as she grinned a wide, wide smile, but that only made her cuter, her eyes lighting up like stars.
“Time for presents?” you said, looking more at Neville than Frankie.
“What a great idea,” he replied, the high-pitched tone of his baby voice making you laugh. “Isn’t that a good idea?”
The greenhouse was filled with giggles and coos as Frankie opened her gifts. Of course, for a toddler, paying attention to anything long enough to reveal it from a colourful casing was a chore. However, with you and Neville’s help and baby-talk encouragement, she ended up surrounded by brightly-coloured and outrageously noisy toys. She was perched in Neville’s large swivel chair, her little legs far too short to reach the edge and she looked unfairly adorable. Neville came up behind you as you leant your hip on the desk, watching her play. His arms circled your waist and he leant his chin gently on your shoulder.
“She’s a little princess,” he said softly, hugging you to him.
“She really is,” you said, rubbing your hands over his.
“I’ve missed her,” he tilted his head agaisnt your own. “And you.”
You hummed.
“Thank you,” he said, pressing his lips to your temple.
“What for?”
“Her.”
A peaceful silence fell between you as she swung one of her toys in her grip, the bright yellow rattle already dripping with saliva.
“Hey, Nev?” you asked, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. You hadn’t anticipated your words, but something about the moment and the longing pulling at your insides made the words tumble out.
“Yeah, love?”
“Do you ever think about having another one?”
“Another what?”
“Another kid.”
He stiffened behind you and you gnawed at your lip, already regretting your question.
“Are you for real?”
You exhaled sharply before turning to face him, preparing to retract your words, but surprised to see a smile on his lips.
“Yeah, I know she’s still so small, but she’s growing up so fast and wouldn’t she just make the best big sister? I know it’s-“
You were cut off when he pressed a long kiss to your lips, your mind drawing a blank as he turned you around in his arms, his hands settling on your lips.
“Yes,” he said breathlessly, the same youthful sweetness you fell for displayed all over his face. “A hundred times, yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You stared at him for a moment before the sound of something hitting the floor garnered both yours and Neville’s attention. You turned to see Frankie grinning at you, her face resting on her chubby fists and her elbows on her knees. She looked wise beyond her years as she stared back at you both and as she started clapping, a delightful shriek slipping from her lips, you convinced yourself that she’d somehow understood.
“Seems like she wouldn’t mind someone new to play with,” Neville said, smiling brightly.
You just looked at him, letting your hand fall against his chest before you pecked his lips once more. You had to agree.
harry potter tag list:
@creator-appreciator
@decadentwastelandtrash
@loveisblindness
@xinyourdreamsx
@brainlesspasta
@hariosborn
@staringmoony
@rexorangecouny
@alittletoomanyobsessions
@peachesandpinks
@yuptha-tsme
@obsessedwithrandomthings
@dreamer821
@iprobablyshipit91
@in-slytherin-we-trust
@haphazardhufflepuff
@princesof-theuniverse
@whovianayesha
#neville longbottom#Harry Potter imagine#harry potter#imagine#writing#neville longbottom imagine#neville longbottom x reader
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I should be able to write next week after work (please to heavens that I can, I may have an application on my plate but that remains to be seen). I'm kind of excited for a lot of ideas right now and can't really focus, so what would you want me to work on:
next chapter of Cherry Trees
next chapter of The Instructor
next (final!) chapter of Teachings
part 2 of Make Your Bed
next instalment of Frankie x chubby!Reader
more Frankie x Lady
I usually keep to a strict rotation on the multichapters, with one-shots sprinkled in between, but now I feel so torn between all my wips that if I sit down with the one that's next in line, I'll only think about the following.
I may also have a nasty Dave York idea but it crosses over into some shit I don't really want to write so I'll have to mull it over...
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Your Power Over Me: One - Beginning
Summary: this movie was not that great.....it had so much potential. But I’m going through some sort of weird JGL phase and I really like his character in this. Another cop but at least he’s not a bastard. His character has zero backstory besides loving and living in nola so I’m giving him a FAMILY BITCH. This’ll prolly take place right before the events of the movie.
Pairing: Frank Shaver x OFC (Michelle Shaver)
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: mega fluffy so wooooo
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Frank pulled up to the house and parked the car on the side of the street. It was late. Later then he said he would be. He definitely missed bedtime by now. Again. Third time this week. At least this time he’d remembered to shoot her a text. He sighed, pulling his hands over his face. He was so tired. He killed the engine but continued to sit there for a moment.
What he saw tonight was indescribable. Unfathomable. That suspect…What he could do was beyond any normal human. Almost like he had….
Frank shook his head. No. If he thought about it too much it would make that next word a reality. Something that was plausible, tangible, something that wasn’t just on the movie screen or in the pages of a comic book.
He got out of the car.
The path that led up to the front porch was lined with purple flowers, freshly planted for the new, colder season. She had told him when she was working in the yard that day what they were. Something that started with an F — he couldn’t remember. His mind had probably been too distracted that day thinking about a case. He’d look it up later. The white paint of the porch was chipped, but the matching siding was pristine. Newly painted over after she finally convinced him that the periwinkle purple that the house was before was rather hideous. She wanted the front door untouched though, a bright turquoise blue.
The house was dark and quiet when he came in. He kicked off his boots at the door, adding them to the pile of tiny sparkly slip-ons, pink Crocs, and flip-flops with the little elastic strap on the back to keep them on tiny feet better. The living room was speckled here and there by toys. She had probably given up on forcing the issue of cleaning when they were just going to get pulled out the next day anyway. He smiled. He hoped they had a good day — he wished he could’ve asked her about it.
He stopped in Claudia’s room first. The bedroom had a pink haze, the little machine on her bedside table projecting hearts and unicorns on the ceiling to help her sleep. Claudia had moved into a big-girl bed just a few weeks ago. He thought she still looked so small in it. Wasn’t it just yesterday he could fit her entire body in one arm? Now she was old enough to sleep in a bed with no rails? The crib she had been using before was pushed into the corner of the room, waiting for the newest Shaver to arrive.
God, he hoped it was another girl. He didn’t know if they could afford to buy all new clothes for a boy.
Claudia was asleep in the center of the bed. Frank chuckled quietly to himself. Just like her mom. Pillow still at the head of the bed, curled in on her side with the blankets barely covering her legs. Her dark hair just like his in messy double french braids. He sat down quietly at the edge of the bed. He looked at her for a moment.
When she was born, the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. She came into the world bright blue and not breathing. The first time he saw her he had been so scared. Scared for her life, scared of failing her. And for a long time after, even when the doctors got her breathing and free of the umbilical cord, he only looked at her with fear in his heart. A whole life — his responsibility. But now he only looked at her with love. A love so strong he was sure it would make the wind change directions. Everything he did, he did for her. His little Claudia.
Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her warm cheek. God, she got so sweaty at night.
“I love you, Cloudy,” he whispered, “Sweet dreams.”
He left her with one final kiss and the door cracked open how he knew she liked it. From the dark hallway, he could see that their bedroom light was on. He sighed. She shouldn’t have waited up for him. But he also knew that he was powerless to stop her.
Michelle was sitting up on her respectful side of the bed under the covers. Her bright, copper hair was thrown up into a bun at the top of her head. She held a book, about halfway finished, in her hands. An empty mug that once was filled with tea if Frank had to guess sat on her nightstand. She smiled at him when he gingerly opened the door, a soft, tired thing that made him feel even more exhausted than he did before.
“Hey, baby,” he sighed as he shut the door behind himself.
“Hi,” Michelle whispered back. She closed her book and set it down beside her empty mug.
Frank let out a long breath. He might have been in his house for nearing on five minutes, but he didn’t feel like he was home until he saw her. Then the more he looked at her, the more he thought about the things he saw that night; and the more he thought about that the more tired he became. He felt surprising tears prick the backs of his eyes. And she seemed to notice them, those unwanted tears that hadn’t even fallen yet, her face buckling in concern.
“Frankie?”
She moved to get up but he held up a hand. He groaned as he pulled at his nose, rubbed at his eyes. Trying to force the tears back and keep his head on his shoulders. He pulled off his badge and gun first, setting them on top of the dresser by the door. Then he stripped himself down to his underwear, leaving his clothes where they lay. He’d pick them up tomorrow. He slid in beside her on top of the covers, laying his head on her chest and placing a hand on her swollen belly. Michelle instantly wrapped him up in her arms, one hand running through his short hair.
“Rough night?” she asked quietly, giving the top of his head a quick kiss.
“Yeah,” he sighed.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not yet.” He pulled her a little closer. “Just talk to me for a little while? At least until the baby cries.”
Michelle chuckled. “She’s not a baby anymore, Frankie.”
“She’ll always be my baby girl.” He moved down and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “At least until this one gets here.”
They had never discussed having a second kid. Both of them were perfectly content with the one — especially for financial reasons. But then Michelle’s period never came, she took a test, and sure enough, she was pregnant again. About five months along now. They were happy, Claudia was ecstatic to be a big sister. But they also had to live with the reality that Frank was an underpaid detective, Michelle worked part-time as a florist, and they lived in only 700 square feet of house. Things were going to be tight until Michelle could go back to work full time and Frank finally got that raise he had been promised. They had made it through worse. They could make it through this.
“I don’t know — I just have a feeling this one’s a boy.”
Frank looked up at her with a smirk. “A feeling? A feeling where?”
“In my…Motherly instinct.” She hit him gently when he laughed. “You cops follow your gut — we mom’s gotta follow our instinct. Millions of years of evolution was not for nothing.”
“Okay, fine.” He chuckled a few more times before he moved so his head was back on her chest. “How was your day?”
“It was good. Worked today. Donna says hi by the way. First arrangement of the day was an apology. The client specifically asked for Star of Bethlehem and Ivy. Donna and I are sure he cheated. Then I did an anniversary piece with Eucalyptus, Scabiosa — they’re a dark dark purple flower, I think you’d like them — Sweet Peas, Spirea — “
“The guy picked up the car and threw it at us,” Frank suddenly spoke, eyes lost somewhere between the present and the past.
He was sure that Michelle heard him, but she still asked, “What?”
“Suspect robbed a pawn shop — we had him cornered in an alley. Then he picked up an abandoned car and threw it at us.”
“Was anyone hurt?” she asked.
“No — well, just the suspect. Next minute he was rolling around on the ground screaming his head off. Medical said that nearly every muscle in his body had detached from the bone.” He felt her shudder beneath him.
“That sounds awful,” she whispered, “Must be some kind of new drug or?”
“Nobody knows,” he sighed, “Captain didn’t even wanna talk about it when we got back to the station. We’ve been getting…A lot of weird calls lately.”
Michelle adjusted herself so that she and Frank were laying side by side. Curled on her side and nose to nose with the man she loved. “Just stay safe…That’s all I ask.”
“You know I do, baby.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “Anything to come back to you.”
“You’ve got a power over me, Franklin Shaver.” She smiled, her light brown eyes crinkling at the edges, and he could feel his heart lift in his chest. A weight lifting off of him. “You gonna hold it over me?”
This, right here, was warmth and light and home. As long as she was there waiting for him, with open arms and a smile, nothing could get him down. No case could be too dark, too dangerous, too bleak. She was his source of power, his energy, his everything. What more could he possibly need than his family?
“For the rest of our lives, baby.”
The door creaked open. Frank instantly shot up in bed, that gut feeling taking over him as he shielded Michelle with one arm. But then he saw little Claudia standing in the doorway. Messy braids hanging limp on her shoulders, favorite blanket cradled in her arms, and chubby cheeks red with sleep. Her eyes were barely cracked open as she walked into her parent’s bedroom.
“Cloudy, baby, what’s wrong?” Michelle asked as Frank visibly relaxed beside her.
The toddler walked further into the room, to Frank’s side of the bed. She shook her head. “Daddy.”
“You just want Daddy?”
Claudia nodded her head and Frank scooped her into his arms. God, she was sweaty. “All right, let’s go back to bed, okay?”
He moved to get up from the bed but Claudia began to fuss. Whining and kicking at him with her little feet. Frank held her legs down. “Nah-ah. Use your words.”
“Stay ‘ere with…Daddy.”
Frank looked over to Michelle. She had her head cocked to one side and a smile on her face. “I think someone missed you today.”
“I missed you too, baby-girl.” Frank kissed the top of her head and tucked her into bed between him and Michelle. “Let’s go to bed and you can snuggle me all night long.”
Frank got under the covers and Michelle turned off the light. Claudia burrowed herself into his chest, her favorite blanket tucked between them. Frank looked at Michelle one last time in the darkness. She had let her hair down for the night. Copper tresses hanging well past her shoulders and fanned out across her pillow.
He had been so tired before. So drained of all energy. But now, laying there with his little girl against his chest and the love of his life beside him, he could feel all that energy coming back. The power he needed to get up in the morning and face another day of crime, cruelty, and corruption in New Orleans.
#project power#project power fic#project power fanfic#project power fanfiction#frank shaver#frank shaver imagine#frank shaver x reader#frank shaver x you#frank shaver x oc#joseph gordon levitt#jgl
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Giacomo Colosimo , better known as Big Jim Colosimo, was an Italian-American mafia crime boss who built a criminal empire in Chicago based on prostitution, gambling, and racketeering. Immigrating from Italy in 1895, he gained power through petty crime and the heading of a chain of brothels. He would lead the Chicago mafia from about 1902 until his death in 1920. When prohibition went into effect in 1920, Johnny Torrio, an enforcer Colosimo imported in 1909 from New York, pushed for the gang to enter into bootlegging, but Colosimo refused. In May 1920, Colosimo left Chicago to marry his second wife, Dale Winter (he had deserted his first wife). After Colosimo returned to Chicago a week later, Torrio called him and let him know about a shipment arriving at his cafe. When Colosimo appeared at the cafe to wait for its delivery, he was shot and killed. The initial murder suspect was his new wife but no one was ever arrested for the murder. It was widely believed that Torrio ordered Colosimo's killing so that the gang could enter the lucrative bootlegging business. Torrio reportedly brought in New York colleague, Frankie Yale, to murder Colosimo. Al Capone has also been suspected as Colosimo's assassin. After his death, Colosimo's gang was controlled first by Johnny Torrio and then Al Capone. It became the infamous Chicago Outfit.
Three weeks after his marriage to the beautiful singer Dale Winter, James Colosimo remained giddy, and nervous. Known as “Big Jim” or “Diamond Jim” for his obsession with the gems, Colosimo reigned as boss of a whorehouse empire in Chicago’s Levee vice district. Celebrities, powerful pols and opera performers crowded his Colosimo’s restaurant, with a café-cabaret and separate late-night fine dining room.
On May 11, 1920, Colosimo and Winter set a date for dinner in the city’s fashionable and exclusive Loop area, along the shore of Lake Michigan. But Colosimo phoned Winter to tell her he’d be late, due to a sudden appointment. “Angel, just got a call,” he said to her. “Gotta meet a guy at the restaurant. It’s important.”
Colosimo had his chauffer drive him in his Pierce-Arrow to the restaurant that afternoon. Inside the still-closed restaurant, he asked a porter, Joe Gabrela, if he’d seen a man looking for him. Gabrela said no. Colosimo entered his office. Soon, Gabrela noticed a man in the dining room. “Mr. Colosimo’s in the office,” he told the man before leaving the room. Then the restaurant’s accountant noticed Colosimo exit the office. About a minute later, he heard a gunshot.
Colosimo had just peered out a windowed door to the large foyer of his café toward the street, when a gunman strode behind him and fired a .38-caliber revolver into the base of his brain, killing him instantly. The suspect fled, but Gabrela provided police with a detailed description. Chicago Police, acting on tips, shrewdly theorized that Brooklyn mobster-killer Frankie Yale did it. Gabrela did identify Yale in a photo lineup. But as things often wound up in gangdom in those days, his fear got the best of him. Taken to view a live police lineup in New York that included Yale, Gabrela declined to finger him. Practically everyone knew it was Yale, but lack of evidence meant no murder charges filed against anyone.
Johnny Torrio, Colosimo’s righthand man and Yale’s former saloon partner in Brooklyn, leapt into action. He organized an extravagant funeral for his dead boss that would serve as the template for future over-the-top, flowery send-offs for murdered mobsters of the 1920s. In a tribute to Colosimo’s political influence, mourners at the funeral inside his home included the all-powerful First Ward alderman and Cook County Democratic committee member Michael “Hinky Dink” Kenna, the second First Ward alderman “Bathhouse” John Coughlin, several other aldermen, a couple members of Congress, a state legislator and a few judges. About 5,000 people, some holding banners for the Democratic Party and street laborers union, trailed a hearse carrying Colosimo’s body in a $7,500 silver and mahogany casket to Oakwood Cemetery.
When people outside Colosimo’s brownstone watched Torrio enter Kenna’s waiting car, they realized who had moved in as Big Jim’s heir apparent in the First Ward. The Chicago Outfit was born.
Torrio most surely planned Colosimo’s assassination, enlisting Yale, his friend, former business partner and experienced hitman. His motivation to off his boss, acknowledged by history, came from his understanding that Prohibition, effective that January 17, clearly offered massive profits, based on his and Colosimo’s existing model of payoffs to police and local office holders to look the other way from Colosimo’s many prostitution houses in the area. Torrio read that the federal Prohibition enforcement agents would be political appointees, not subject to U.S. civil service rules. In other words, low-paid, low-skilled hacks, ripe for bribery and inattention to liquor smuggling.
But Colosimo, still in rapture with his new bride, disagreed with Torrio, fearing the prospect of federal law enforcement without the protection he was used to. Better to keep things the way they are locally, in the Levee and Loop, he thought. He nixed Torrio’s idea to make a major racket out of bootlegging.
However, it is rarely reported that Colosimo did in fact approve Torrio’s scheme to reopen closed breweries to make and sell illegal, real beer to underground merchants and barkeeps in Chicago. Earlier, before Prohibition, Colosimo invested $25,000 in a brewery operated by one of his saloon owners, Jake “Greasy Thumb” Guzik (one author claimed Guzik garnered his nickname for serving beer with his thumb in the stein). Still, this didn’t go far enough for Torrio. Just as he convinced Colosimo to expand the brothel business to the rising suburbs and towns bordering Chicago, he rightly predicted that unbridled bootlegging of beer and hard liquor would produce far more money — millions. Colosimo was dead set against going much beyond prostitution in Chicago and the suburbs, and his popular restaurant. For Torrio, to build this new domain, his shortsighted boss had to go.
Colosimo, born in 1878 in Palermo, Sicily, moved with his parents to the Windy City at age 1. He would not have reached his height as top pimp in Chicago – the nation’s brothel capital – without Hinky Dink Kenna’s well-paid protection. Hinky Dink and Bathhouse Coughlin represented the First Ward, when wards had two city alderman each, from the 1890s to the early 1920s. Two masters of influence and graft, Hinky Dink, thin, stoic and not quite five feet tall, and the floppish, flamboyant Coughlin, helped themselves to payments, not only from the vice businesses in the Levee, but on everything awarded by the city council in their ward – licenses, permits and utilities needed for hotels, banks, shops and clubs in the Loop as well as federal and state offices, the police, courts and jails. Colosimo, as Torrio after him, served at the pleasure of Kenna as his vice gang underlings and made sure he received his cut of the proceeds. Kenna let the illicit gambling operators and brothel madams run as long as they, as precinct captains, delivered him the votes to win elections.
Colosimo’s links to Hinky Dink started in the 1890s when Jim was an engaging young bootblack inside Kenna’s rowdy Workingman’s Exchange saloon. Kenna took a liking to the kid and later arranged for a city patronage job as a street cleaner. Colosimo ingratiated himself with Italian immigrants and got them to support Kenna. The boss in return promoted Colosimo to street cleaning supervisor. Colosimo organized his Italian men into a street cleaners union.
By the early 1900s, prosperous Chicago had been a bastion of illegal but tolerated prostitution for decades. Colosimo, with Kenna’s approval, made the move to the brothel business by marrying Victoria Moresco, a madam – six years older than Big Jim — of a pair of dollar-a-go whorehouses. Kenna elevated him to precinct captain to deliver the Italians to the polls. Colosimo was second only to Ike Bloom, the First Ward’s vice money bagman, in political power, under bosses Kenna and Coughlin.
In 1909, the dangers of Chicago vice life intruded on Colosimo’s rising stardom. Black Hand extortionists, by letter and then at gunpoint, demanded Colosimo pay them $50,000. He needed a bodyguard. Victoria knew someone who might be right for it – her cousin, Johnny Torrio (born in southern Italy in 1882), who co-owned a saloon called the Harvard Inn in Coney Island, Brooklyn, with Frankie Yale. They offered to pay Johnny’s expenses and put him up in their Chicago brownstone. Torrio, weary of years of gang wars in the New York area, decided to make the move, and sold his share in the Harvard to Yale.
Unsure of the calm, squat, chubby Torrio, Colosimo told him about his problem. Torrio, a veteran Black Hand-style extortionist himself in Brooklyn, assured Big Jim he had it covered. Driving a horse-drawn carriage with two Colosimo gunmen hiding inside, he lured the three extortionists one night with the promise of a payment. The gunmen stood up, shot and killed two of them and mortally wounded the third. Colosimo hired Torrio as his bodyguard. As time went by, Colosimo noticed Torrio’s talent for finances and leadership and delegated responsibility for managing prostitution houses to him as a “male madam.”
In the 1910s, Colosimo rose to vice boss and Kenna’s collector in the First Ward, thanks both to Hinky Dink’s sway with police, judges and prosecutors, and Torrio’s business acumen. With the Loop district’s thriving businesses and fancy residences, the First Ward developed into perhaps the richest area in the whole Midwest.
For Torrio’s headquarters, Colosimo bought a four-story building at 2222 S. Wabash Avenue. Torrio opened an office, a saloon – the Four Deuces – a gambling house and fourth-floor brothel. While there, his old friend Frankie Yale sent him a letter, asking if he could give a 19-year-old roustabout bar worker of his, Alphonse Capone, a job. The teen cut up a man in a fight and needed to leave New York. Torrio made Capone his front door bouncer and then, after seeing his violent side, his bodyguard.
By his death in 1920, Colosimo had unknowingly fathered the shell of an organization that Torrio, and Capone who succeeded Torrio in 1925, would transform into the Outfit, one of the most powerful crime syndicates in American history.
Big Jim Colosimo
(February 16, 1878 - May 11, 1920)
#Big Jim Colosimo#Chicago#Mafia#Mobster#Gangster#Italian Mafia#American Gangster#Goodfellas#Wiseguys
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Various X Reader [Multi-Fandom Book]
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zO0Nji
by Bonkers4hatter
Various scenarios, one-shots, and headcanons with your favorite characters. I take requests too. Just send me a message if you'd like to make one.
**All characters are 18+**
Words: 602, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, One Piece, Haikyuu!!, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Dragon Ball, Free!, Trigun, Supernatural, Big Hero 6 (2014), ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga), Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series), DCU, Leverage: Con Artists (TV 2019), Deadpool - All Media Types, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Venom (Movie 2018), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), Avatar: The Last Airbender, Uta no Prince-sama, Soul Eater, ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man, The Umbrella Academy (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV), Naruto
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Characters: Multiple Characters - Character, Various Characters
Relationships: England (Hetalia)/Reader, America (Hetalia)/Reader, Germany (Hetalia)/Reader, Canada (Hetalia)/Reader, South Italy (Hetalia)/Reader, France (Hetalia)/Reader, North Italy (Hetalia)/Reader, Spain (Hetalia)/Reader, Japan (Hetalia)/Reader, Denmark (Hetalia)/Reader, China (Hetalia)/Reader, Various (Hetalia)/Reader, 2P Hetalia Ensemble/Reader, Loki (Marvel) & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Thor (Marvel)/Reader, Vash the Stampede/Reader, Eliot Spencer & Team Leverage, Erwin Smith/Reader, Kaiba Seto/Reader, Yami Yuugi/Reader, Wade Wilson/Reader, male raven / reader, Suoh Tamaki/Reader, Sebastian Michaelis/Reader, Peter Parker/Reader, Tadashi Hamada/You, Zuko (Avatar)/Reader, Shiro (Voltron)/Reader, Hunk (Voltron)/Reader, Keith (Voltron)/Reader, Lance (Voltron)/Reader, Lotor (Voltron)/Reader, Allura (Voltron)/Reader, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Reader, Kagami Taiga/Reader, Kise Ryouta/Reader, Nanase Haruka/Reader, Tachibana Makoto/Reader, Ryuugazaki Rei/Reader, Hazuki Nagisa/Reader, Yamazaki Sousuke/Reader, Matsuoka Rin/Reader, Roronoa Zoro/Reader, Monkey D. Luffy/Reader, Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader, Eustass Kid/Reader, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Reader, Thatch (One Piece)/Reader, Portgas D. Ace/Reader, Hanamiya Makoto/Reader, Murasakibara Atsushi/Reader, Soma Asman Kadar/Reader, Agni (Kuroshitsuji)/Reader, Grell Sutcliff/Reader, Sekizan Takuya/Reader, Zanba Ryuujin/Reader, Iwashimizu Sumiaki/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Akashi Seijuurou/Reader, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Reader, Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Midoriya Izuku/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader, Nico Robin/Reader, Nami (One Piece)/Reader, Franky (One Piece)/Reader, Hannah Annafellows/Reader, Castiel (Supernatural)/You, Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester/You, Peter Pan (Peter Pan) & Reader
Additional Tags: Polyamory, Double Penetration, Oral Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, headcanons, Scenarios, One-Shots, Teasing, Rough Kissing, Possessive Behavior, NSFW, sfw, Fluffy, Smutty, Smut, Shameless Smut, Cuddles, Chubby Reader, !chubby reader, chubby reader insert, plus size reader, !plus size reader, plus size reader insert, Insecurity, self doubt, Badass, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zO0Nji
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