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astoryisaloveaffair · 2 days

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Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood.

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye. The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees. The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane.

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later.

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead.

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?”

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them.

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks.

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.”

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide.

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now.

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her. “How could you?”

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips.

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life.

“Bebita.�� He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself.

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes.

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it.

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to?

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends.

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence.

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him?

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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deakyjoe · 4 months

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Something Stupid

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader (no pronouns apart from “you” used, I believe)

Category: fluff, friends to lovers

Summary: And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you”.

Warnings: slightly insecure Frankie and reader, kissing, awkward love confessions, pining, seemingly unrequited love (it’s requited), they’re both just super awkward really, basically soulmates, reader implied to be shorter than Frankie, alcohol consumption, Santiago described as short…

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Title and summary from the song Somethin’ Stupid by Frank and Nancy Sinatra. For everyone out there who won’t be getting a kiss at midnight (me), this is for you <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

“You could always kiss me at midnight, if you’d like.”

The words had been rattling around in Frankie’s brain for the past two hours.

It was the last thing he’d expected you to say when he’d mentioned, casually in conversation, that he hadn’t kissed anyone at midnight on New Years in at least half a decade.

Initially you’d scoffed, not believing him in the slightest. He was too attractive for that, women were constantly throwing themselves at him, and there wasn’t a chance that not a single woman at the party you were attending would offer to kiss him at midnight.

But when he’d insisted that it didn’t feel right with a stranger, who wants to begin the new year with someone you don’t care about, you’d paused for thought. He was right. You understood him. Yet you’d asked him to elaborate.

“So, what? It has to be someone you’re dating? Or someone you’re in love with?” You’d sipped on your drink steadily, bracing yourself for whatever answer he decided to give.

“No, not necessarily. Could just be a friend, a really good friend.” He’d clarified. “Just someone you care about, y’know? Someone you want to celebrate with.”

You’d hummed at that, deciding to tease him. “I’m sure Benny wouldn’t mind a little kiss from you.”

Frankie had rolled his eyes. “Don’t joke. I’d kiss that fucker if he wasn’t going to have about twenty women fighting for him at midnight.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to see how that goes down.” You’d giggled, a thought suddenly popping into your head. “You could always kiss me at midnight, if you’d like.”

Frankie’s brain had short circuited. He must’ve misheard you. There was no way you’d offered to kiss him at midnight. Not a chance in hell.

“Really?” He’d almost squeaked.

“Sure.” You’d shrugged, trying to create an air of nonchalance. “We’re friends, right? Have been forever. And I don’t have anyone to kiss either. So it makes sense.”

You hadn’t expected him to agree.

“Okay.”

So when he did, you tried desperately to hide your excitement.

“G-great!” You’d chirped, taking another couple mouthfuls of your drink. You had a couple hours until midnight, which you’d need to fill yourself up with liquid courage if this was actually going to happen.

Before the two of you could say anything else, you’d been whisked away by other people who wanted to chat, wanted to dance, wanted to drink. Time flew by, the clock counting down to midnight, and the only thing the two of you could think of was your kiss at midnight.

Frankie did shot after shot with his friends - Santiago, Will and Benny all having their own obscure flavours of liqueur that they insisted the others had to try. He felt extremely nauseated by the time the last one had reluctantly slid down his throat. Attempting to blink away the blurriness his eyes had suddenly adopted, he realised that the drinks had been a bad idea. He wanted to be as coherent as possible when he finally got to kiss you.

You, however, were happy to throw back multiple drinks considering you were berating yourself for being an idiot for most of the night. Why had you suggested kissing? All you were going to do was tease yourself with the prospect of having him momentarily but not quite fully.

What if he was a really good kisser (you knew he would be)? What if he held you close (you knew he would)? What if he wanted to use tongue (you knew he would)? What if he tasted good (you knew he’d taste delicious)? What if you fell even more in love with him (you knew you would)?

You were an idiot.

And so fucked.

The suggestion had been incredibly stupid.

Midnight was approaching fast, and the two of you realised at around the same time that you should probably start seeking the other out. Just so you were definitely together by the time the clock struck twelve. But every time one of you entered a room, asking for the other, you were informed that they just left.

Oh, you’ve just missed them.

I’m sure if you go now, you’ll find them.

They were literally just here.

Frankie found himself getting frustrated when he bumped into Santiago and asked after you.

“In the kitchen, I think. Anyway, excited for the new year?” He was very drunk. And Frankie really didn’t have time for this.

“Yeah, so pumped. I’ll see you later, man.” He tried to walk away but was blocked by Santi’s smaller frame. He took up a lot of room for a shorter guy.

“Why so anxious to leave, bud?”

Frankie hesitated before quickly explaining the situation. His attempt to hush Santiago when he started cheering went completely ignored.

“Catfish, my man! You’ve wanted this for years! Quick! Go, go!”

“I was trying.” He grumbled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen and left his friend behind, still celebrating.

He didn’t find you in the kitchen, but back with the majority of the crowd in the living room where most people were gathering around the television with their respective partners for the night.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Frankie exclaimed, pushing through a group to get to you. He sobered up at the sight of you. You were so beautiful.

“Well, you found me!” You smiled widely at him, the nerves dissipating as soon as you saw his face. His gorgeous face. “I figured we were going around in circles looking for each other so I decided to just stop so you could catch up with me here. And it worked!”

Frankie couldn’t help the pull on his heart at seeing you so happy at your simple plan working out. He adored you so much. “That was a good idea.”

You shrugged. “Thanks.”

There was a brief moment of silence between you.

“So, uh, ready for midnight?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

The anxious yet excited energy between you was palpable. Neither of you commented on it.

As the room grew more and more busy, everyone determining that they should be together in the same room for midnight, the two of you inched closer and closer together. Until you were chest to chest. And there was no room to breathe without touching the other.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah!”

Before you knew it, it was one minute to midnight and everyone was counting down from sixty. You and Frankie didn’t join in, just looked at each other and sent questioning looks to make sure that the other was sure they wanted to do this. Neither of you had been so certain about something before in your lives as you were with this.

The countdown reached ten.

“Ready?”

So ready.

“Ready.”

Five.

This was really happening.

Three.

His face dipped closer to yours.

One.

“Happy New Year.” The both of you rushed out before your lips crashed together.

Neither of you were patient, hands immediately on each other. Yours clinging to his shirt and on the back of his head, his on your waist and cupping the side of your face.

It was exactly as the two of you had predicted, butterflies floating around wildly in your stomachs at how good it felt to finally do this. Yet, somehow, the both of you remained unaware that the other felt the exact same way.

Frankie decided to take the opportunity to be greedy, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip and then into your mouth when you opened up and allowed him to. A deep groan rumbled in his chest when your tongue met his, a smile curving up your lips slightly at the sound of it. You tugged him closer, the handful of shirt tightening into a fist and your other hand carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been right about everything you’d been questioning before. The arm around your waist kept you flush against him and standing straight, the hand on your cheek stroking soft circles with his thumb.

The people around you broke away from their respective kisses, the music being turned back up and the dance party continuing. But the two of you were too busy wrapped up in your own little world. Wrapped up in each other. It would’ve taken the apocalypse to stop the two of you in that moment.

Frankie momentarily broke away for some air, feeling the earth shattering beneath him and the gates to Heaven opening when you immediately tugged him back towards you for another kiss. His cap got slightly knocked to the side when you forced him downwards even closer to you than before. But he didn’t care. He was too preoccupied with you.

He had to remind himself that this wasn’t real. You weren’t his. This was just for tonight. Just for this moment.

But you felt so warm and soft and perfect in his hands that it suddenly felt impossible that you didn’t feel the same. How could you not when the two of you fit together so easily?

So, without really meaning to, Frankie took the leap.

“I love you.”

The words were mumbled, barely a hushed whisper against your lips compared to the raucous noise of the room. But you heard them. Loud and clear.

It was evident by the way you froze momentarily, head rearing back in shock. Frankie’s heart dropped when panic suddenly flashed across your face and his hands dropped back to his sides.

He’d fucked up.

Could he play it off as a friendly I love you? No, probably not, considering that you’d just made out and the way he was looking at you was very non-platonic.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. But I thought-“

He cut himself off. Thought what exactly? He couldn’t confess that he’d convinced himself you were as madly in love with him as he was with you. That sounded crazy. You were nice to him, sure, very friendly. But you were like that with everyone.

Frankie adjusted his cap, pushing some hair back away from where it was sticking to his forehead. Had the room always been this hot?

Still you said nothing, your wide-eyed stare speaking a thousand words.

“I’ll uh…” He cleared his throat with a halfhearted cough. “I should go. Thanks, uh, thanks for the midnight kiss.”

And he pushed past you, shoulder bumping yours, before you even had the chance to open your mouth.

“Wait.”

It came out raspy, unsure, but it was too late anyway. Frankie was gone. You stayed stuck, frozen on the spot, for way too long. What were you supposed to do now? He’d confessed his love to you and you’d done the one thing worse than just rejecting him. Nothing. You’d done nothing. You didn’t speak. You didn’t even smile. Shit, you could’ve just kissed him again to show that the feelings were reciprocated. But you’d just stood there, horrified.

It had been your dumb idea to kiss at midnight, a selfish plan to see what it would be like to kiss him. Just once. You hadn’t expected him to admit feelings to you. Yet, it had been the one thing you desired most for years. Francisco Morales loved you. And you’d fucked it up.

So you chased him.

“Frankie. Frankie!” You pushed through the crowd, desperation pouring out of you. “Frankie!”

The sight of his retreating figure filled you with relief. You could see his brown curls peeking out from under his cap, the familiarity of it filling you with warmth. But you could’ve sworn that he started to walk faster when you shouted his name again.

Calling out his name repeatedly, you didn’t stop for breath until you reached the empty hallway.

Once you’d refilled your lungs with oxygen, you straightened up. “Francisco Morales, I know you can hear me.”

He stopped still, a sigh lowering his shoulders. You rushed towards him with quick steps as he turned around and folded his arms across his chest in an embarrassed yet defensive stance.

“You don’t have to say anything because you feel bad. It was my mistake. Let’s just go back to the way thi-“

You wanted him to shut up, needed him to shut up. Just so you could speak. But he just wouldn’t, no matter how many times you opened your mouth to talk. So you just let it burst out of you in a rapid half-shout.

“I love you too.”

That got his mouth to stop moving. By some miracle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before but I was just surprised and I don’t know how to voice my feelings well. And you confessed so easily and I didn’t know how to do that. Which is ridiculous because I could’ve just said it right back to you.”

Now you were the one rambling.

“But I didn’t know what to do because the kiss was real nice and I was focused on finally kissing you and then suddenly you were saying you loved me and yeah.”

It was Frankie’s turn to freeze and look panicked.

You really were quite the pair.

“Say something, Francisco.” You mumbled, realising you couldn’t quite judge him for this as you’d done the exact same thing a few minutes prior.

“I, uh, I-“ He paused and took a deep breath. “You love me?”

You nodded once. “Yes.”

“You love me back?”

“Also, yes. Technically, same yes I believe but yes nonetheless.” You internally slapped yourself for that. Just say yes, you idiot.

Frankie didn’t care about what you’d said. All he cared about was that you’d said yes.

Yes, you loved him.

And he loved you.

Had the two of you really been so oblivious to the other’s feelings for so long? Had you both hidden it that well? Or were you both just certain that the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way?

Either way, it didn’t really matter. It was all out in the open now and there was no turning back.

Frankie suddenly realised that he was stood staring at you silently. Why wasn’t he kissing you again? Good question.

He took the two steps forward and scooped you up into his arms, pressing his lips against yours desperately but in relief. Feelings had been boxed up for too long. He didn’t need to hide his longing for you anymore.

You giggled happily into his mouth, grateful that this had finally happened. Grateful to get this weight off your chest.

The two of you ignored the party going on in the next room, the floor shaking a little beneath you as people danced just a door away. You could only focus on each other, you’d wasted too much time already.

The confessions were whispered against just to be sure that the two of you weren’t dreaming or had somehow misunderstood the whole situation (of course you hadn’t).

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Neither of you could’ve been happier that you’d both been daring enough to say something stupid.

A/N: I wrote this instead of a uni essay. You’re welcome. Hope you enjoyed!

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thot-of-khonshu · 4 months

Text

All Access

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Summary: It's 1975 and you're one of the rare women given the opportunity to write for Rolling Stone. When you get the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with the hottest band in the US, Triple Frontier, you're welcomed into their den of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. But what happens when you fall for their bass player and it becomes more than just a story?

Fic Content: 70s rock band au! triple frontier, explicit sex, heavy drug use

New Chapters Every Monday

Chapters:

Chapter 1: You go see Triple Frontier at the Chateau Marmont for your story. You dabble into their world of sex, drugs and rock and roll...and you and Frankie bond.

Chapter 2: You're officially on the road with Triple Frontier and you try to adapt to a boys club. After Benny makes a misogynistic comment, you lean into the arms of Frankie.

Chapter 3

4 / 5 / 6 / 7

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year

Text

The Fire Within Us

Frankie Morales x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 5.4k

Warnings- smut (18+ ONLY!), sex pollen (Frankie gets pollened), drug mention (passive, mostly about moving it), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m receiving), multiple positions, overstim, feelings, love confessions, praise kink, creampie, protective!Frankie

Notes- This is a collab with the wonderful and talanted @frying-panties who provided not only the idea, but the amazing beautiful art for this piece (below!💖) I had a blast writing this and I’m so happy with how this turned out! And check out their art for this too cause I’m obsessed with it!!! Enjoy!!

To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates

Art and fic under the cut for spice 🔥

“Thank you, Catfish! Another delivery without a hitch,” the man, Robert, greeted Frankie right outside the helicopter.

Frankie let out a huff, “Just doing my job,” he said dismissively. This wasn’t where he thought he would find himself, but with money being tight and jobs sparse, this was Frankie’s only option. He wasn’t happy about it, but it paid well and it gave him a chance to fly.

Robert inspected the packages in the cargo space of the helicopter as Frankie watched. He knew the routine: inspect the delivery, count it all and make sure it was all accounted for, then he got paid. Frankie never asked what exactly he shipped; he figured it was better not to know the details. But this particular batch looked different. It wasn’t cocaine, he knew all too well what that looked like, but he had no idea what it was.

“All here, as usual,” Robert turned around with a smile on his face and one of the packages in his hand, “I expect nothing less from my best and most discreet flyer.”

Frankie shrugged, “Just doing my job,” he repeated.

“Your payment, as promised,” he passed an envelope of cash to Frankie, who immediately pocketed it. Robert then flashed a grin that made Frankie’s skin crawl, “You know what this is?” he gestured to the package in his hand.

“You know I never ask,” Frankie replied, keeping his face stern and level. He did not have a good feeling about this and he kept his guard up.

“And I appreciate you for it,” he pulled out a pocket knife and sliced the package open, “And I think you deserve a little bonus,” Robert dug out a handful of what looked like a brightly colored powder, “Dude, you’re too tense! This’ll help you… let off some steam,” he smirked as he blew a small puff of the powder right in Frankie’s face.

“Hey, what the fuck!” Frankie exclaimed as he coughed and waved his hands across his face.

“Especially if you’ve got someone to help you out with the… side effects,” Robert added slyly as he watched Frankie try and brush the powder off his face.

That made Frankie stiffen. Your name immediately popped into his head, but he wasn’t about to let this man know who you were. He was determined to keep you safe and protected from this part of his life at all costs; Frankie couldn’t risk getting you involved in any way. He didn’t want you to ever be used against him if things ever went south; he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.

“So there is someone,” Robert grinned as he noticed the change in Frankie’s demeanor.

Frankie’s eyes narrowed.

“Have fun then, Fish,” the man sounded too happy as he turned and left Frankie alone with his thoughts.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he shook his head and made his way out, “What the fuck was that?” Frankie whispered as he got into his truck and ran his hands across his face and through his hair.

Suddenly, Frankie saw a large flash of white in his vision and then his skin felt like it was on fire. Sweat lined his brow and his pants quickly felt tighter as his cock stiffened out of nowhere. He let out a deep breath to try and calm himself before he blasted the air conditioning in his face to try and cool off.

“What the fuck was in that?” he repeated to himself as he wiped sweat off his forehead.

Not wanting to sit there any longer, Frankie decided he was well enough to drive and took off. He figured he would just head home and ride out whatever was now pulsing through his system until he was ok again. He just had to make it home and everything would be ok.

“Just make it home…” he muttered to himself.

The drive felt like a blur as Frankie kept repeating the mantra of “home” to himself over and over again. Yet, as much as he forced himself to think of home, all he could think about was you. Your beautiful smile, your kind heart, the way your eyes lit up when you looked at him, your laugh… your hands, your lips, the curves of your body, the swell of your breasts, your perfect ass… Frankie shook his head as his thoughts quickly morphed into something else.

He imagined what you could look like as he fucked you, or the look you would give him if you were on your knees with your lips around his cock. He wondered if your pussy tasted as sweet as he imagined it to be. Frankie imagined the sounds you’d make for him as he pounded into you over again over again, or how beautiful you’d look when you came on his cock…

Frankie’s desire for you flooded his system as the images in his head turned more and more lustful. Vaguely, he knew that it was something about that drug that was making him lose control like this, but there was nothing he could do to stop it now. And as he pulled his truck into park and turned it off, Frankie realized that he wasn’t at his place at all… he was at yours.

“When did I turn here?” he whispered to himself. But again, Frankie moved without realizing it and in a flash he was suddenly standing at your door.

What was he expecting when he knocked at your door? What would Frankie even say to you? Hello, I was forced to take this drug and now all I want to do is fuck you senseless, oh yeah and I’m fucking in love with you. Yeah sure, that would go across real well. You were Frankie’s best friend, you’d been there for him through everything. You were always there when he got back from deployment, you were there when his fiance left him, you were the only one who really knew what he was doing when he made those private flights. Not even the guys knew about that…

Swallowing hard, Frankie knocked on your door. His mind raced and his breaths were deep and heavy as he waited for you, but every thought was forced out when he was face to face with you. He let out another deep exhale as he scanned your figure up and down. You were dressed down in just a tshirt and shorts, obviously not expecting company for the evening. But to Frankie, you were still stunning.

“Frankie!” you breathed in surprise, “What are you doing here? Is everything ok?”

A rush of heat pulsed through his body as you spoke and Frankie let out a heavy breath as he ran his hands through his hair, “I-I just…” he stuttered, unsure of what exactly to say.

Concern lined your features, “You look a little flushed, Frankie,” you reached out and cupped his face, “Shit you’re burning up! Come in, let me help you.” There was no hesitation in your face as you led him inside and closed and locked the door behind you.

Frankie’s eyes dropped to the floor as he tried to shift himself so that his erection wasn’t as obvious. He knew his face had to be hot and he felt the sweat on his scalp. And it only got worse as he watched you; the moment you turned your back to him to close your front door Frankie’s eyes went right to your ass.

“Frankie…?”

Something about the tone of your voice snapped Frankie out of his trance and his eyes shot up to meet your gaze. He studied your face in silence for a moment, and when your lips parted to let out a shaky exhale, the dam broke.

Frankie groaned your name as he closed the gap between your bodies in an instant. His large hands cupped either side of your face and he looked deep into your eyes for a moment before he took your lips with his own in a heated kiss. You gasped as his movement caught you completely off guard, but your heart flipped in your chest as you instantly leaned into his kiss.

It had been your secret for years: you were desperately in love with Francisco Morales. Between his beautiful brown eyes, the sharp angle of his nose, his broad chest and his good, kind heart, you were a goner from the moment you met. You lost count of how many nights you laid in your bed alone and touched yourself with his name on your lips. How many times had you fingered yourself and imagined they were Frankie’s hands instead? You were too embarrassed to answer that honestly.

A growl escaped Frankie’s chest as he guided your body across your living room until your back collided with the wall. You squealed softly as the breath got knocked out of your chest, but you clung to Frankie, putting all your trust in him. And the taste of him drove you wild…

The moment Frankie kissed you, it felt like a wave of emotions crashed into him. All the feelings he buried over the years bubbled to the surface as he devoured your lips with his. And the moment your back hit the wall, he pressed his body fully against you and leaned completely into you. A mix of his groan and your moan echoed between your bodies as he was sure you felt how rock hard he was.

Everything in the logical side of his brain screamed at him to stop. He knew this was too much to put on your shoulders, too much to ask of you. But Frankie couldn’t help it. Whatever was in the drug overpowered every other thought in his brain until he was completely consumed by you. And once he got a taste of you, Frankie knew he couldn’t stop himself.

But he summoned every ounce of strength in his body and forced himself to break away from you. Heavy pants filled the room as you blinked your eyes open as the two of you stared at each other for several tense moments. Frankie’s arms trembled as he held himself back from ripping your clothes off and ravaging you right then and there.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as he dropped his head.

“Frankie?” your tone was soft, yet he still heard the concern there, “What’s going on?” Not that you would complain; you had wanted him to kiss you for so long. But you knew Frankie better than anybody, and you knew when something was up with him.

“Shit I’m so sorry, querida,” Frankie’s voice was strained as he rested his forehead against yours, “I got something in my system from my run today,” he clenched his jaw, “And it’s making me want to fuck you senseless.”

You gasped but your voice turned more stern, “Frankie, you knew better than to try what you move.”

“I know!” he snapped back harsher than he meant to. When Frankie saw your eyes go wide, he relaxed his shoulders, “I’m sorry,” his voice was softer, “He kinda forced it on me…” his voice trailed off.

“Frankie?” you reached out for him.

“This was a mistake,” it took all of his willpower to push himself off of you and turn away, “I’m sorry…”

“Wait,” you didn’t let Frankie get far as you grabbed his shirt and spun him back around to face you, “Stay,” the second word was just a whisper, but you knew he heard you.

Frankie looked at you with those big brown eyes that made you melt, and you saw the fire that burned behind them. But, you also saw something else… something more melancholy. Under your hand, you felt how tense he was, as if it physically pained him to hold himself back. Briefly, you dropped your gaze down and noticed the bulge in his pants.

For a moment, your own emotions swirled around in your head; it must have meant something that you were the person Frankie thought of at that moment. That kiss was too passionate for it to only be the drug in his system. And when Frankie whispered your name so sweetly, your own dam of emotions broke.

“Fuck me,” your voice was hushed yet it held all the passions and emotions you felt, “Please Frankie…” you took a deep breath, “I… I’ve wanted this… Wanted you for so long…”

Your confession stunned Frankie to stillness for a moment that he almost forgot about his painfully hard cock. He stared deep into your eyes for a long moment and time felt like it froze for both of you as your words hung in the air. Even without him saying anything back, you could tell from the way he stared at you and the way he clung tightly to you that his feelings reflected your own.

A low grumble emanated from deep in Frankie’s chest as he lunged forward and captured your lips in another heated and desperate kiss. You moaned into him but you gave in more easily now that you laid your heart out for him and he didn’t push you away. Frankie breathed your name against your lips as he dragged you back towards your bedroom.

As he guided your bodies through your place, Frankie didn’t even need to look up or break away from you. He knew your place like the back of his hand, and he couldn’t even say how many nights he imagined almost this exact scenario: leading you down while devouring your lips and tugging at your clothes until you were bare for him.

Frankie yanked your shirt off first before he ripped your shorts and panties down in one swift movement. You clawed just as desperately at him, ripping his shirt open and fumbling with the zipper of his jeans clumsily. Heat rose between your bodies as a trail of discarded clothing led the way to your bed.

Once you reached your bed, Frankie quickly pushed you down so that you landed on your back, and an inferno burned in his eyes as he watched your breasts bounce as you hit the mattress. You looked up at him with a glazed over expression and immediately parted your legs. Frankie’s eyes trailed down to your pussy, and even in the low light of your bedroom he saw how wet you were for him.

“Fuck baby…” he groaned as he covered you with his body and attacked your neck with bites and open mouthed kisses.

The warmth of Frankie’s body was inviting, even when he was fueled by some mysterious drug. He took your breath away from how beautiful he looked in the low light while he gazed down at you with a look of pure admiration on his face. And when he kissed you, it felt like you were in a dream.

“Frankie…” a shiver ran down your spine when he nipped at a sensitive spot on your neck.

His hands cupped your breasts and you moaned when Frankie pinched your nipples. You were so soft underneath him, Frankie knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. So with one last kiss on your neck, he pushed himself up so that he lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Querida…” Frankie groaned as he thrust into you, fully sheathing himself inside you in one motion.

You screamed in pleasure as you clawed at Frankie’s back. His cock stretched you out more than any of your toys, and since he was too filled with his own need from the drug, Frankie didn’t take his time with you like he would have wanted to. He mumbled a soft apology as the drug fueled him on and he snapped his hips against yours, desperate for release.

Frankie growled as he drilled into you; his large hands gripped your hips tightly as the drug made him lose all control of himself. He pounded into you at a fast, harsh pace, and the way you moaned and screamed every time his cock was fully buried in you only spurred him on more. You dug your nails into his broad, strong back as your legs framed Frankie’s body. It was overwhelming but in all the best ways because it was Frankie… your Frankie.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, “You feel so fucking good baby… So fucking beautiful…”

All you could do was moan in response as Frankie showered you with praise while he fucked you so roughly. It was a sign that Frankie was still in there under the drug that made him fuck you senseless. It felt so natural to you to let Frankie fuck you and surrender to him like this. You trusted him more than anyone… and you loved him more than anything in the world.

In what felt like no time, Frankie felt the warmth build from deep within him and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Between the drug and how good your pussy felt around his cock, his climax quickly built up until it threatened to spill over and explode.

“Baby… I’m gonna…”

“Cum in me Frankie,” you whispered as you held him tightly.

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned as your request pushed him over the edge. Frankie came hard as he spilled himself into you, his hips still pounding against yours as wave after wave of his climax crashed into him.

But, where Frankie hoped to find relief in his climax he only found more desire. As his hips slowed, he realized he was still hard inside you, and you gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes as you realized the same thing. Even after the strongest orgasm of his life, and finally getting to fuck you, Frankie still needed more.

“Frankie…?”

“Shit,” he spat as he rocked against your body again.

You dropped your head against the mattress as Frankie started fucking you once more. Tears filled the corners of your eyes as you felt the soreness creep up, but you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted to be there for him, and you’d wanted this for so long you didn’t want to let it go. But you also felt overwhelmed with emotions as Frankie sped up his thrusts again.

He noticed when a single tear rolled down the side of your face, and Frankie immediately wiped it away, “I got you baby,” he whispered as he laid himself completely over you, covering your body with his own, “You’re doing so good, baby… Que hermosa… So good for me…” he mumbled more incoherent praises into your ear as his hips moved on their own.

These weren’t tears of sorrow or pain, but something else, something deeper. Emotions ran high between the two of you as you felt Frankie’s cock hit that sweet spot deep inside you over and over again. Your moans became louder and louder until your body trembled around him.

“Cum for me baby… Please…” he begged as he felt his second orgasm build up, “I need you to cum.”

“Fuck!” you cried out as your body trembled when climax suddenly hit you like a freight train.

And your climax triggered Frankie’s as both of you turned into a gushing pile of sweaty limbs. Together, the two of you rode out your highs on each other as you clung and clawed at each other. It was as if neither of you could get close enough to the other and the desperation boiled over.

You saw stars in your vision as the aftershocks of your powerful orgasm pulsed through your body. Your limbs shook as you tried to hold onto Frankie while he still pounded into you, clearly still desperate for more.

“Shit,” you heard Frankie hiss, “Fuck…” Clearly he was frustrated when, even after cumming with you, he was still hard and the need still pulsed through his veins. Sobs of his own escaped his chest as he wrapped his arms around you as best he could, “Fuck… I’m so sorry baby,” Frankie’s voice quivered as he thrust into you again, “I’m so fucking sorry… Lo siento mi cielo…”

“Frankie…” you had no idea what else to say, and any thoughts you did have were pushed out of your mind as Frankie pounded into you again. Your body was exhausted and sore, but you didn’t want him to stop if he still needed you, so you didn’t push him away. You let Frankie use your body for his release as his cock filled you over and over again until his third orgasm rocked you both to your cores.

Frankie knew he had to be hurting you, and it killed him inside. But he couldn’t help it, once he started fucking you, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as his own tears flowed from his eyes, “Fuck… Baby I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologized to you over and over again as his rock hard cock still stayed deep inside you.

Something about the sounds of his sobs and the way he said your name like it was a prayer snapped you out of your own mind. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly, “It’s ok Frankie,” your voice was soothing and soft, “I’m ok… You’re not hurting me.” It was a lie and you both knew it. But, you had an idea, “Here, let’s try this.”

Gently, you pushed Frankie up so that he was propped on his hands. You took a moment to look into his tear-stained eyes and your heart skipped a beat. Even though his cock was still in you, there was something about looking into his eyes that made you weak. Your eyes fluttered shut as you closed the gap between your faces and placed a soft, sweet kiss on Frankie’s lips. He gasped against you, clearly surprised by your action, and you took the opportunity to flip your bodies.

It took all the strength you had, but you rolled both your bodies around so that Frankie was now on his back and you straddled his waist. Both of you let out soft moans as the new angle drove Frankie’s cock deeper into you. And you both felt the gush of your releases spill between your bodies.

Frankie looked up at you with the same wide-eyed expression you had on your face before. His hands landed on your hips, but he didn’t grab you. He just rested them against your skin carefully as he studied every inch of your body. The way your breasts rose and fell with your heavy breaths, the way your lips were swollen from his harsh kisses, the fiery look in your eyes… it was all perfection to him. And when Frankie’s eyes trailed down your body, he let out a breathy moan when he saw where your bodies were still connected.

You let out a moan of your own when you felt his cock twitch inside you, and you felt a tingle of embarrassment under Frankie’s intense gaze. He looked up at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, as if you were a goddess, and it made your heart flutter in your chest. But, as much as you would be content to just stay like this, on top of him with his cock buried fully inside you, Frankie still needed your help.

Carefully, you lifted yourself off his body, his cock sliding out of you as you did. You whimpered as his seed dripped from you and you suddenly felt empty without him inside you. And Frankie let out a whine unlike anything you’d ever heard before. You quickly reached up and cupped the side of his face, much like he had done to you before.

“Shh,” you soothed him, “It’s ok Frankie,” you wiped a tear from his face, “I’ve got you,” you echoed his words to you from earlier, “Just trust me.”

Frankie breathed your name, “I trust you, baby.” The apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t have the energy to voice it. You knew though.

You shimmied your way down his body and settled between his legs. Your mouth watered as you finally got a better look at his cock, and fuck it was beautiful. Even after three orgasms, Frankie’s cock was hard as a rock and stood at full attention. Your eyes trailed up his figure and you watched as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. If this wasn’t a desperate situation, you would have wanted to kiss every inch of him and take his nipple in your mouth and flick it with your tongue. You wanted to mark his body and show him just how much you truly loved him. But now was not the time.

So you wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped it a few times. Immediately, Frankie let out a loud moan as his head slammed down onto the mattress. And his moans only grew louder when you wrapped your lips around his length and swallowed him fully.

“Fuck! Baby!” he cried out as you bobbed your head up and down his length, “Fuck… Fuck!”

You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him hard as you stroked the rest of him with your hand. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive tip and you hummed around him when you felt his cock twitch at your actions. Frankie grabbed hold of your scalp and held you tightly as you worked his cock with your mouth.

“Shit, shit, shit… Baby I’m gonna cum…”

You only sucked him off harder, determined to throw Frankie over the edge. And it only took a few more moments for him to explode in your mouth. You gagged at first but you didn’t let up and swallowed every drop of his cum that flowed into your mouth.

When you needed to take a breath, you broke away and wheezed as you filled your lungs with air. Frankie’s seed dripped from the corner of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You casually wiped it away as you watched him come down from his high. Frankie still looked flushed and his skin glistened with sweat, but he seemed calmer than before. As you looked down, you noticed he was still hard, but his cock didn’t seem like it throbbed the way it did before.

“Frankie?” you asked in a whisper, “Frankie, you ok, baby?” you crawled up and hovered over his body.

He didn’t even realize his eyes fluttered shut. Frankie wanted to watch you while you wrapped your lips around his cock and took him into your mouth over and over again. But you felt too good, and when you flicked your tongue against his length, he was done for. Frankie’s heart pounded in his chest, and it only got worse when he looked at your concerned face once more.

“I’m ok, baby,” his voice was raw and low, “I think I’ll be ok now,” he tried to push himself up, not wanting to put you out any more than he already did.

“Wait,” you placed your hands on his chest and kept him in place, “Stay,” you whispered, “I think one more will get this drug out completely.”

Frankie’s eyes went wide as he cupped your face, “Are you sure, baby?”

“Do you not want to?” your voice was barely audible as your own vulnerability showed.

“It’s not that…”

“Let me then,” you interrupted, not sure if you could handle what he was about to say.

You moved slowly, giving Frankie the opportunity to push you away if he wanted to. But as you hovered your pussy over the tip of his cock, Frankie held onto your hips and gently guided your body down. No words were needed in that moment as you sunk down onto him inch by inch. This time, however, it was less desperate, less rushed. You took your time as Frankie’s cock stretched you out once more.

Both of you moaned softly and once your hips met his, you collapsed down onto his chest. Frankie immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you close as you both moved slowly against the other. You both clung to each other and held the other close, but this time it was different. The need was still there, but it was a more heartfelt need instead of drug fueled.

Slowly, you bounced on Frankie’s cock, letting the veins rub against your inner walls as you moved against him. Every drag of his cock drove you wild, and you felt the heat build up within you in no time. Underneath you, you felt the way his heart pounded in his chest and you were surprised when it matched your own.

“Fuck baby,” Frankie mumbled in your ear as he held you close. His hips bucked against yours as he matched your rhythm from below you, “You’re fucking amazing… You feel so good… So beautiful,” he rambled in a low tone, “Fuck… I love you baby. Te quiero… I fucking love you.”

Your climax hit without warning right after Frankie’s confession. You cried out as tears fell from your eyes as your entire body trembled in his arms. Frankie held you close as you rode out your orgasm on his cock until he too came again. He groaned your name as he tightened his grip on you, as if he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go.

Once both your final highs were ridden out, both you and Frankie flopped onto your bed, exhausted. Heavy breaths filled the room as you laid on top of him. Frankie ran his hand across your back soothingly as he muttered soft words of affection in your ear. You couldn’t quite hear what he said as the sound of his pounding heart was even louder in your ear. His cock stayed inside you, but you felt it slowly start to soften, and you both knew it was over now.

“Thank you, baby,” Frankie murmured in your ear, “Thank you.”

A sob echoed in the room, and you weren’t sure if it was from you or Frankie.

“I love you too, Frankie,” your voice was hushed and you didn’t dare look him in the eye, “I’ve loved you for so fucking long.”

Frankie smiled against you as he kissed the side of your face. He carefully brought his hand to your head and gently turned you so that you faced him. You gasped when you looked into his deep, beautiful brown eyes and saw the adoration he held there.

“If we didn’t just go at it for the last few hours, I’d show you just how much I love you. I’d eat your pussy until you ask me to stop,” the sincerity in Frankie’s voice made your heart skip a beat, “I’ve been in love with you for years,” he confessed more shyly.

“Frankie,” you breathed, “I’ve loved you for-fucking-ever,” you let out a soft laugh and paused for a moment, “Maybe that drug wasn’t all that bad then,” you added with jest.

Frankie laughed with you before he turned more serious, “Maybe not,” his brows furrowed, “But I promise baby, nothing like this will happen again. And I promise I’ll keep you safe from anything.” Frankie thought back to the way Robert sneered at him earlier after he realized there was someone special in Frankie’s life, and his words echoed in his head.

You pushed yourself off of Frankie’s chest, his cock slowly sliding out of you as you did so, and settled yourself at his side. His arms wrapped around you and held you close without hesitation, “I trust you, Frankie,” you said as you rested your head on his chest and made yourself comfortable in his embrace. Nothing had ever made you feel safer than right now, in Frankie’s arms, and you found you never wanted to leave.

Thankfully, Frankie never wanted to let you go and soon enough both of you passed out in the other’s embrace, completely wiped out but still safe and protected. Just as you trusted Frankie, he trusted you with his heart, and he never felt more at home than when he was with you.

You were right: perhaps some good did come out of that drug. Because now, Frankie could officially call you his. And he was yours.

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wordywarriorwrites · 2 months

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Life Is But A...

Title: Life Is But A... | AO3 | Rating: T

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie is ready to tell his daughter about you...

Warnings: Kissing. Mild-spicy thoughts. Mention of death and medical issues (not explicit).

You’re flipping through the pages of a Little Mermaid coloring book – Cranberry Red crayon at the ready – when you feel a strong hand grip your calf.

“Got a minute?” Frankie’s deep voice rumbles through the air.

You glance at his daughter and quirk a brow, “You’ll have to ask Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella. We are very busy, after all.”

The three-year-old little girl, with beguiling brown eyes just like her father’s, looks up from her own artistic endeavors. She cranes her neck, gaze focused on her dad, and seems to consider his request. A purple and pink bejeweled crown perched precariously on her head, lips pursed, and brow furrowed – she’s clearly thinking hard, but it’s not until Frankie says the magic words, “pretty please,” that she finally acquiesces.

It takes only a few moments to scoot the basket of shared crayons closer to her and relinquish your own, much smaller tiara and white, feather boa. You roll your old bones back into order, elbow bumping up against the plastic cup and saucer from an earlier tea party as you move from lying on your stomach to sitting up.

Frankie’s knees pop when he stands, and as you look up at him, your mind immediately switches from coloring inside the lines of Sebastian, Flounder, and Scuttle, to appreciating the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever had the pleasure of digging your nails into. He offers you a small, knowing smile and a hand up, and you admire the strength and the flex of his bicep, your heart stuttering a bit at the way his eyes sweep over you in return. Frankie makes a motion for you to follow him, and you do just that, tiptoeing over toys and around laundry baskets. His long strides eat up the length of the hallway to the master bedroom in no time, and you’re right on his heels, stepping over the threshold when he gestures for you to enter first.

The door is left slightly ajar, allowing you both to hear his daughter and the movie playing in the background. Woody has just called Buzz “a child’s plaything” when he reaches for your hand, guiding you forward until you’re seated at the foot of the neatly made bed.

“Wanna talk to you about something,” Frankie starts.

Spine straightening, you clasp your hands in your lap, “Alright. I’m all ears.”

There’s a discernible shift – the air suddenly a little tense, a bit more serious. Lips pressed into a hard line and eyes dark with an as-yet-to-be-revealed purpose; he paces the small space between the dresser and closet like a caged lion, and you consider asking him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“I want to tell her about us,” he says, tone low and certain. “If that’s okay with you?”

Your body is engulfed with a combination of relief and excitement, as well as a hefty dose of nervousness.

You’d agreed from the start that neither one of you wanted to confuse Isabella or cause her any pain. And that pact you and Frankie made was exactly why his daughter – who is currently belting her ABCs with all the power her toddler's lungs possess – still believes you’re simply “a friend of Daddy’s from work.”

In the beginning, it had been a casual thing; more about sex (great, mind-blowing sex) and adult conversation than anything else, really. But as with all things tended to with passion and kindness, it grew, gradually morphing into something more – something significant. You knew about Isabella from day one, met her officially at month three, and then, just like that, Frankie and you were no longer simply dating.

A couple became a trio, and you were given a drawer and space in the medicine cabinet. You had a car seat installed in your sedan and your apartment was no longer a “bachelorette pad,” but a kid-friendly spot for the occasional weekend getaway. Purse staples, like lipstick, gum, and perfume, were replaced with a toddler-friendly gamepad, snacks, and sanitizing wipes. There are boxes of goldfish and teddy grahams in your cabinets, and string cheese and apple slices in the fridge.

You’ve been part of the bedtime routine – helping Isabella get into her pajamas and reading her a story before turning on the nightlight. You know she hides her peas in her potatoes and that she’s allergic to penicillin. You’ve noticed she prefers to wash her hands by herself and favors the giraffe toothbrush over the whale one.

You’ve seen Frankie handle her meltdowns and marvel at her milestones. You know about the handmade bracelet beneath the band of his watch, and that his iPod has more specialized playlists and audiobooks for her than it does for him. You’ve seen the preschool brochures and are aware of the college fund her honorary uncles, Ben, Will, and Santi, have started for her.

You also know about Isabella’s mother – have listened with a heavy heart as Frankie told you stories about their complicated past and too short-lived time together. You know the circumstances that took her away from them – the unknown, undiagnosed cardiomyopathy that snatched a mother from a five-month-old baby girl who needed her. You have smiled, lash line brimming – honored to be asked to help decorate a frame for a photograph of the very woman with whom Isabella shares the same chin and nose. It’s buttercup yellow, decorated with assorted beads and shells, and it has held a place of prominence on the nightstand ever since she got her big girl bed, which you and Frankie built together.

Isabella refers to you by your call sign, Hawk, and will “kree” excitedly whenever she runs to greet you. To her, you’re a playmate. A grown-up friend. You fix broken helicopters and sometimes sneak her cookies before dinner. You show up for movies on weekends and occasionally pick her up from daycare if Daddy is running late. The two of you work as a team to beat Frankie at Don’t Break the Ice and Go Fish. Bumper bowling and band-aids. Flus and fairy tales. Pinkie promises and potty training.

“What’re you thinking?” Frankie asks.

There’s a hole in the knee of your jeans, and you tug at a loose thread until it begins to unravel. “Is she ready?” you wonder, winding the string around your finger and pulling hard until it comes free. “Are you? Really?”

Frankie reaches for your hands. Yanks you to your feet. You meet his gaze, finding an unwavering sureness that somehow steadies you and makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight. Eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth quirked, he switches his hold to your upper arms, giving you a squeeze and little shake for good measure. It’s all silent, affectionate admonishment for what he clearly thinks are very silly questions, but still, he follows up with a tender kiss to your forehead and softly spoken assurances.

“I’ve been working up the courage to ask you since her birthday two months ago,” he admits. “And Isabella is braver than you, me, and her uncles combined.”

It’s an assertion you can’t argue with because it’s so very, very true, so, you don’t. You just smile and nod, which prompts a hug that brings forth tears, and then, Frankie’s kissing you – gentle pecks on your damp cheeks that morph into a lip lock full of relief and love and unrestrained happiness.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of chores and games and nap time that’s more about reading books and cuddling than actual napping. Frankie oversees the grill, while you and Isabella, sous chef extraordinaire, put a tray of fries and tater tots in the oven and set the table. Halfway through dinner is when he broaches the subject, reaching for your hand and holding it tightly while he tries to explain in toddler-friendly, simple terms that you’re more than a friend.

“You understand what I’m trying to say, querida?” Frankie finally asks.

“Daddy loves Hawk,” she chirps, swiping her index finger through a glob of ketchup and bringing it to her mouth. “Duh.”

You let out a burst of surprised laughter, and that, combined with Frankie’s admonishingly bemused, “Oh, mija!” makes Isabella kick her feet and giggle wildly. She dances in her booster seat, and as she worries a fry between her teeth and pulls the cheese off her bite-sized cuts of burger, you can’t help but smile because you adore her.

A bite of food. A sip of milk. After she’s declared she’s full and can eat no more, it’s bathtime. You do the dishes while Frankie has the fun, undoubtedly overindulging on the bubbles and toys. Row, Row, Row Your Boat echoes off the bathroom walls, but in this version, life isn’t a dream – it’s a bowl of spaghetti. You join back up with them in time to see the exciting saga that is hair combing and teeth brushing before the three of you head into Isabella’s room to get her dressed for bed.

“Daddy read,” she insists as her head pops through the shirt collar of her moon and star-themed pajamas. “Hawk tuck.”

Two books, a potty break, and another book. Then, she’s conked out, with her favorite stuffed moose in her arms and owl-patterned sheets up around her shoulders. Frankie asks you to stay the night, and you say yes, the two of you spending what remains of your evening on the couch, chatting about everything and nothing, silently agreeing that the “what now” conversation can wait for another day. By the time you climb into bed beside him, your heart is full to bursting and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Daddy loves Hawk,” he mimics with a snort. “That kid… Already actin’ like she knows everything.”

“Can’t imagine where she gets that from,” you quip.

He grunts, mockingly indignant, and waits for you to stretch out beside him before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. Nosing your hairline, he takes in a deep breath before exhaling a contented hum into the quiet, comfortable space between the two of you. You adjust your pillow, and when Frankie kisses you, it’s soft and sleepy, his mouth and bristly moustache brushing languidly against your lips and chin.

“I do love you,” Frankie rasps.

“I know,” you sigh. “And I love you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, “You’re my bowl of spaghetti.”

For a moment, he looks at you – all tired-eyes and quizzical brow – but it comes to him eventually, and when you start lightly humming the song, he groans low in his throat and gives your ass a playful swat.

“You know what?” he challenges.

You jut your chin, “What?”

A pause. A sigh. Another kiss – one that sizzles and lingers until he slowly pulls away.

“You’re my bowl of spaghetti, too.”

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales fic #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader

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javipispunk · 11 days

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frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader

summary: you and frankie make the best of a rainy vacation

warnings: hurricane, established relationship, smut, pwp, f!receiving oral, slight overstimulation, frankie comes in his pants,

word count: 583

a/n: this is for @undercoverpena April Shower’s Challenge! And dedicated to the loml @syd-djarin

divider by @saradika-graphics

Paradise on Earth, that's what your friends said about St Kitts and Nevis. You’re sure that is the case when it’s not the middle of hurricane season. But right now it’s down pouring with no end in sight. So much for the beach vacation you and Frankie booked for your anniversary. Not to say it’s been a complete bust though, the weather has led to more indoor activities than you had anticipated. Time you thought you would be spending on the beach is now spent in bed with Frankie’s head between your thighs, which is the true paradise on Earth.

The howling winds drown out your screams of pleasure as his tongue takes turns licking your clit and delving inside of you. He can’t get enough of your sweet, sweet pussy, as is evident by his constant moans. He’s made himself a home in your cunt. Your hips are bucking wildly at the sensation, begging for more and squirming away for some reprieve at the same time. It’s getting so intense that Frankie has to hold you down with his strong arms.

He speaks directly into your center, “you gotta relax for me baby.”

“I’m trying Frankie,” you whine.

“Feels too good huh?”

You let out a strangled moan as your answer. You’re close, you can feel it and you know Frankie can feel it too. He continues his besiege on your clit and with one final suck you are coming all over his face. Like a man starved he drinks up all of the juices that pour out of you. The over stimulation from that quickly becomes too much. You whine Frankies name again but he doesn’t respond, too lost in the euphoric haze he falls into every time he makes you orgasm. With all the strength you can muster you tug on his hair to get his attention.

When he looks up at you he looks throughouly fucked. His pupils have taken over the mass of his irises and your spend covers the whole bottom half of his face. You drag your thumb across his chin to collect some of it and bring it to your mouth. When you start to lick it up he whimpers and jerks his hips into the mattress. Anyone else might think it pathetic the way he gets off on just your pleasure, but not you. The way Frankie worships you is unlike anything you’ve ever experinced, more powerful than any storm, and louder than any beat of thunder.

You motion for him to move up your body and bring his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. You’re both a mess, panting wildly through clashes of lips and teeth, hips bucking into each other with wild abandon. You curl one hand around the back of his neck and use the other to palm him through his boxers. There's a wet spot right at his tip. It’s not a small spot either.

“Have you been leaking Frankie?” You ask him condescendingly.

He looks at you with his brown puppy dog eyes and nods.

“Poor baby. Want me to make it better?” You ask and he nods again.

You put your mouth back on his and palm him a few times. With a final squeeze he groans and spills his load into his boxers. He collapses on top of you with a big smile on his face. The rain continues to pour down as you run your fingers through his hair, causing Frankie to fall asleep.

#frankie catfish morales #triple fronteir fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #undercoveraprilshowerschallenge

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jksprincess10 · 5 months

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Are we out of the woods 2. Passenger side

Summary : Your father is a dangerous man who has a lot of enemies. One day, you’re taken from your home by force to go to a safe cabin in the woods to be protected from an unknown danger by three of his men: Ironhead, Pope and Catfish. You’re not really a nature enjoyer, but in your boredom, you discover a new love for nature. You also get to know the men working for your dad and interest sparks between you and the mysterious and silent Francisco.

CW: canon-like violence, explicit smut, reader is kind of a princess at first, talks of divorce, drugs & alcohol, talks of addiction, slight age gap (reader in her mid 20s, frankie in his late 30s), jealousy, tension, frankie is a mess.

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“You’re not going, it’s not safe.” Santiago settles, while Frankie and Will are silent beside him, arms crossed.

You feel like you have three different versions of your dad scolding you.

“Well I’m not trusting any of you to go grocery shopping. What will you get? Beer and chips?” You argue with your fists against your hips.

“Of course we can get the basics…” Will starts.

“Yeah? Like what?” You wait and your only answer is silence. “Exactly. I’m cooking and I’m not letting you starve, even though it’s very tempting right now.”

“I’ll go with her.” Frankie says after clearing his throat. The boys turn to him with knives in their eyes, but they sigh and agree.

You’re so excited that you could burst from joy. Well… it doesn’t seem like much, but in your current situation, it still is a victory.

The scenery is so repetitive, you could fall asleep. The falls colors all blend together, creating a vibrant painting.

The fact that Frankie is as silent as a tomb doesn’t help. You don’t know how far the nearest shop is, but you guess it’s very far and you would have to buy groceries for a while.

The radio had been on low volume, but suddenly Frankie cranks it up way too loud when he hears the start of a song he likes. You hear him humming and drumming against the wheel and you try to hide your amusement.

“Don’t tell me you listen to Nickelback?” You ask as you camouflage your giggles behind your hand. Frankie looks at you from the side and you can tell he’s annoyed.

“There’s nothing wrong with Nickelback.”

“There’s a lot wrong with Nickelback. What is this, Frankie? Dad rock station?”

“I’m a dad, you know.” He doesn’t say it like he’s proud of it. You can feel a hint of sadness in his tone, veiled by a faint annoyance.

He’s a…dad? You have a hard time determining how old he is. His face is young with little signs of age except the dark circles under his eyes. He has the start of a dad bod. There isn’t much grey in his hair, well as far as you can see from the curls hanging out of his cap. There are a few grey hairs mixed in his brown beard, though.

And you’re probably staring… because you hear Frankie clearing his throat.

“Is it that surprising?” Frankie inquires.

“I mean, yeah, with that kind of job.” You think out loud. “But it’s none of my business.”

There’s no ring on his finger. You don’t know why, but the thought pleases you.

“You’re right, just let me do my job.”

“I’m sorry.” You respond awkwardly as you look out of the window.

Eventually, the scenery changes. Civilization. The houses are still far apart though and besides a gas station, you don’t see much until Frankie parks near a grocery store. The parking lot is empty besides a few cars. It’s still early for grocery shopping, you guess.

“Put your hood up.” Frankie orders.

The strict tone he uses unlocks something in you that you try to ignore. You shouldn’t like when a man orders you around. Still, you choose to obey and put the hood of your dark coat over your head.

“Who would attack me? It’s 10 fucking AM.” You finally say as you get out of the car.

“Better safe than sorry.”

You go through the automatic doors first, with Frankie following you closely. You grab the nearest cart. You greet the clerk with a polite nod, and you go through the first aisles. You’re overwhelmed with all your options and the quantity of things you must buy to survive the next weeks. Frankie is stressing you out, acting like a guard dog.

“You look suspicious when you keep looking around like that. Relax.” You mumble.

“Can’t you be quicker about it?”

“Go get stuff for the boys and quit stressing me out.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Fine, then wait.”

You can’t believe you’re fighting with Francisco like you’re an old couple. You do your best to ignore him as you fill the cart with essentials, and him with dumb things that you don’t need: like enough beer for an army.

“You have a drinking problem.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should drink too so you’d be more fun to be around with.”

You roll your eyes and head to the cashier. You pay for the food – and Frankie’s beer, with the money your dad gave you.

When you get home, Santi and Will are outside, probably admiring nature. They look relieved when they see you coming out of the car intact.

“Relax, no one would have hurt me. Well… maybe except Catfish’s dad rock music that hurt my ears.”

He gets the bags for you. “What do you even listen to anyway?” Catfish scoffs.

“Not dad rock.”

“I see you two are getting along well.” Santi says with a tinge of teasing.

Days pass and the lack of intimacy you have is starting to get to you. The boys are always around to watch over you. You think they’re probably listening when you’re in your room, which makes it awkward to fulfill your… needs.

Let’s say with that much free time, your mind started to wander. You can’t deny that the men hired by your father are attractive. And Frankie, even though he’s getting on your nerves, is your kind of man. Older, with a beard and pretty eyes. You can’t help thinking about him giving you orders but in other situations.

Fuck it. You can’t hold it back any longer. It’s late, the boys should be in their room anyway. You make sure the door is locked and take out your phone. It’s useless since this place is very much off the grid. But… you saved a few special videos for lonely times.

You select your favorite, thinking your air pods are connected. But there’s a loud, unmistakable tune that’s at the start of videos from that website. You curse and you reconnect your airpods, hoping no one heard. You eventually relax as you watch the amateur video of man fucking a woman roughly. You imagine yourself and Frankie in the situation as you circle and tease your clit until you come in a silent moan.

When you come out of your room to get a glass of water, you find Santi and Frankie in the middle of a conversation, a beer in hand.

“Were you watching porn or was that from Will?” Santiago asks without any discomfort. Like it’s a normal thing to talk about.

You feel your cheeks heating up. “T-That was probably Will.”

“Don’t worry, we all have needs. Except we make sure no one hears it.” Frankie teases. He’s smiling at you, and you want to slap the smile off that pretty face. Even though it’s nice to see another expression than the pouty lips he wears constantly.

Santiago adds something in Spanish that you don’t hear. You grab yourself a glass of water as Frankie responds in the same language.

“It’s not fair to keep secrets from your boss.” You snap.

“We were just saying that you were cute when you were embarrassed and mad.” Frankie translates. “And technically, you’re not our boss. Your dad is.”

And for once, that shuts you up.

#awootw #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x yn #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie catfish morales x you

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frannyzooey · 2 years

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Weeknights Drabble

Gif: @uuuhshiny ❤️

Frankie Morales x f!reader, Weeknights Universe

Rating: Explicit

“I wish I could have some alone time with Mommy.”

You rinse the dish you’re holding, placing it in the rack next to the sink and you look over at Frankie, cooing at your son. His body squirms enthusiastically in his grasp, Frankie’s fingers touching across his small back and looking at the dark swirl of hair across his tiny crown, you smile.

I wish I could have that too, you think to yourself. Your eyes linger on your husband, the curve of his jaw peppered in even more grey, strands of the light blending with the rich, dark brown waves that cover his head and his eyes crinkle as he smiles, his skin tanned and aged in a way that only makes him look more handsome.

It is those things, but maybe it’s the baby he’s holding on the counter right now that makes him look more handsome.

Yea, you feel your eyes hooding. It’s definitely when he holds the baby.

Sensing you looking at him, Frankie meets your eye and winks.

Standing, he places your son in a nearby rocker on the floor, bending to strap him in before tugging to make sure they’re secure and you take the moment to admire the muscles in his broad back, the sliver of skin exposed just above the waistband of his jeans.

When he stands up, you turn back towards the sink to resume the dishes and grabbing a bottle from the water, you feel the warmth of his body at your back without looking at him.

“I’ve missed you, baby.” He breathes the husky words into the nape of your neck, his fingers curling around your hips to pull you back into him and you close your eyes, limply dropping the bottle you were washing back into the sudsy water. You relax into his hold, relishing the press of his body, but also the comforting hold of it — it’s been a long few weeks.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His mouth is warm and wet on your neck, a hum at the taste of your skin escaping from his throat and you let your head loll to the side, biting your bottom lip.

The baby shrieks, then gurgles — the less often one of play instead of discontent — and the sound of the rattle he’s batting at fades into the background; Frankie’s voice taking over. “It’s been a long time. His tongue traces the shell of your ear, a kiss pressed to the lobe of it. “Too long.”

He’s right - the baby transitioning into his own room but still waking in the night, Lucia’s infrequent but no less alarming for it night terrors; the two of you haven’t been able to catch a break. In the morning, you’ve been interrupted by her barging into your room. In the afternoon, you sleep when the baby sleeps. In the middle of the night, the two of you are out cold.

“I wanna taste your pussy, baby. I need it.” His words are strained, lighting an immediate flare between your thighs, the heavy weight of arousal gathering there and as if he can sense where you need him most — or maybe he actually really knows you just that well — his hand skates down, cupping you over the thin fabric of your leggings.

The ones you’ve been wearing for days because they are the most comfortable things you own, the ones that fit you like a second skin making it easier to bend down and clean up toys and lean over the bathtub and crawl on the floor for tummy time. All this time, you’ve been mentally scolding yourself for feeling unattractive, for not trying harder.

And all this time, you’ve been driving him absolutely crazy.

His fingers flex and dig into you, pressing right over your clit before slipping down to follow the curve of your entrance and your hand covers his own, helping him.

“You wanna play, baby?” His teeth catch on your shoulder, his broad chest covering your back and when you nod dumbly, he grins against your shirt. “It’s almost nap time.”

The weight of his hand drags up to the waistband of your bottoms, pushing beneath them and it’s immediate, the way he seeks the warmth of you out. Your mouth drops open when he pushes inside, a hitch escaping when he lets out a low groan into your ear when you take two of his fingers easily. Your wetness coats the digits as he glides them in down to the knuckle and his mouth waters, imagining the taste.

“I bet you taste so fucking good.”

A slow, filling push in, a curled slip out.

Another one in, down to the base of his fingers and when he holds it there for a moment, you let out a small whine. Your feet shift slightly open, giving his hand more room and he takes it, grinding the heel of it against your clit. You curl forward, your hands clutching the rim of the sink and he pulls you back to him, breathing in your ear.

“I’m gonna put him down right now.” His beard catches against your cheek, his sweet breath warm over the slope of it. His fingers are a snug fit, even more when he smoothly adds a third. “And then I wanna go play Mommy and Daddy.”

no one look at me

Read Weeknights here!

#weeknights drabble #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #pedro pascal

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years

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Be There ║ Frankie Morales

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

genre: smut, pwp, hurt/comfort vibes, minors dni

word count: 1.6k

summary: you think frankie might leave you just like everyone else, he proves otherwise.

warnings: period sex, established relationship, the fear of being left alone, insecurities, self-doubt/hate, creampie, fingering, blood is mentioned (obv), frankie is a dream and I want him, a bit of feral frankie

a/n: this isn't beta-read or anything, literally sat down and wrote this in one go because I'm feeling kinda shitty and cramping 🥺 hope you guys enjoy tho!

“Are you okay?”

“No I’m not, obviously,”

You can’t help but snap. You also can’t help the way your eyes fill with incoming tears, the way your lungs collapse in on itself, the way your voice trembles with every word you spit out. You’re venomous. That’s what you feel like. You’re nothing, everyone just wants you to leave, disappear and you know it. It’s just a matter of time he gets tired of you too. They all leave. Even guys as nice as Frankie. His presence lurks behind you, tall and strong. Suddenly you feel very small, a speck of dust waiting to blow away with the faintest of winds.

“Hey, come on now, tell me what’s going on,”

You clench your fingers around the kitchen counter hard enough that your knuckles turn white. You want to cry but you also want a hug. You just don’t want to feel worthless anymore, you want to be loved, to be taken care of and not be afraid of them leaving at the first inconvenience. You want to feel protected. But you know that it’s an impossible thing to ask from someone, who would be crazy enough to stay with you? He’s going to leave too. You’re loud, stubborn, and angry easily– Sure you have some good qualities too, you’re nice for starters but those qualities are never enough. His palm curves along the back of your shoulders, fingers providing a gentle squeeze before loosening up again.

“Please,”

You’re not strong enough to stay silent.

“I’m on my period,”

“That…” an airy chuckle parts from his lips. His breath ghosts over your nape and a shudder climbs up your spine. “That doesn’t really answer my question,”

“You asked what’s going on,”

“I did but I was hoping for more of an explanation,” he presses the bridge of his nose against the back of your head, his voice low as he speaks. “Is it cramps? Do you have a headache? Is it something emotional? You need to tell me baby so I can help you,”

“You don’t want to help me,”

“What?”

He pulls away, sounding genuinely surprised. Before you can peel yourself away from his grip, he turns you around, the dip of your waist now digging into the edge of the marble counter. There’s a slight sting to it but it’s something you can quickly ignore beneath Frankie’s stare. His brows knitted together, he lets out a slow breath, his eyes scream home to you and it makes your heart ache.

“Why wouldn’t I want to help you?”

You avert your eyes, throat closing up as you blink away the tears.

“Because I’m annoying,” you mutter. “And don’t deserve someone like you. I know that I can get a bit intense at times, no one really wants me around but I really don’t want you to leave…I–I–I don’t want to go back to being all alone,”

Your face contorts with incoming tears. The first sign of the mask breaking is the tremble of your lips, the sniffle from your nose and lastly the tears sliding down your face, hot and wet. Frankie’s eyes widen momentarily before pulling you in for a hug, his strong arms coiling around you tight enough for your chest to ache. His one hand gingerly holds the back of your head, and the other sneaks between your waist and the counter.

“Why would I leave?” he whispers. “You’re not any of those things you just said, none of it. You hear me?” when you nod, he lets out a breath of relief. “I’m not going anywhere, bonita. You don’t need to be afraid, you’re not alone anymore, never will be ever again,”

You want to believe him, you really do. But the dark thoughts swirling in your mind whispers otherwise. He seems to hear it too. That’s what you assume anyway. His gaze moves across your face, taking in every furrow of your brow, twitch of your lip and he leans into you, tongue tracing the salty tears streaks left across your cheeks. Head builds between your legs, a shudder running along your spine.

“Stop it,” he mutters, lips moving across your skin. “Stop thinking, I’m here. Focus on me. Can I touch you?”

Frantic and emotional, you nod, fingers digging into his shoulders as he lifts you to the counter. It doesn’t take you long for a fog to settle within your mind. Frankie’s lips find your neck, teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin as he tugs down your sweatpants. A gasp tears away from your lips when two fingers dip under the waistband of your panties and traces your slit. He groans, tongue tasting the salt of your skin, he presses his fingers into your with ease.

“So fucking wet, shit,”

His gaze meets yours, you’re still tense, not knowing this will be as fun as he thinks. You definitely want to continue, already feeling relieved with the touch of his fingers, but you don’t want to force him to do this just because you cried a little. He curls his fingers, and when your insides clench around him, he moans, mouth parting wide as he looks directly into your eyes. Tears build in your eyes once more, heart hammering in your chest. Pleasure looks good on him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he starts to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of it echoing across the walls. You feel so dirty but in the best way possible. “So wet for me, allowing me to push my fingers– You’re so amazing, how could I ever leave you when you make me feel like– fuck– Like the most wanted man on earth,”

“Frankie–” your voice shakes, hands clawing at the front of his shirt. The ache between your legs proves to be too strong for you to handle. “Please, I need you inside me– Need you to fill me up–”

“You sure?”

“Y-Yes, if you want to, of course,”

He chuckles, shaking his head, “Just say the word and I’ll fuck you till the end of time,”

Frankie’s hands slide under your shirt, softly squeezing both of your breasts as his fingers play with your pebbled nipples. You keen at the feeling, body tingling with pleasure, your already sensitive tits heaving with every roll of his fingers. Rolling up your shirt, he draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue lapping and drawing slow circles around the swollen nub. His free hand quickly pulls himself out of the confinements of his pants, a growl rattles his chest as he strokes himself. Your head falls back at the feeling of his cock nudging apart your wet folds, he pulls away from your chest, a string of saliva following.

He looks down, lips parted as he pushes into you. Normally he would have to prepare you more, at least make you cum once if he wants a smooth entry. But you’re so ready, so needy for him that it doesn’t matter, he slides into you with ease, buried balls deep in a second. His eyes roll back when your pretty cunt flutters around him, both of you heaving out relieved sighs at being connected. Frankie draws his hips back, watching the red coating the length of his cock, glistening under the light. Something feral awakens inside him. He can’t believe you’re letting him have you like this, he wishes you’d let him sooner.

Frankie’s eyes flicker to yours. Your face is twisted in pure pleasure, whine after whine leaving your spit soaked lips. He crashes into you, shoving his tongue between your lips while the movement of his hips becomes faster. His cock twitches at the way you moan into his mouth, so needy, his thrusts are hard, yet slow, you feel every inch of him and your head falls back, involuntarily parting from his heated mouth.

“Frankie I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out, words slurring.

“Already?” he smiles, dipping into your neck. “You’re amazing, love the way you’re squeezing around me bebita, cum, let me feel all of it,”

His hips stutter, breathing hitched and chest heaving as he slams his hips. Frankie can feel your thighs desperately twitching around his frame, slick drips down his length, a bit of it meandearing down his thighs as he fuck deeper, harder into you. Your nails bite into his skin, and his teeth dig into yours. Both of you desperately trying to consume one another, his balls tightens, cock throbbing, aching for release. He takes in a sharp breath, he needs to wait, he wants you to cum first. Mind spinning, he presses his swollen lips into your ear.

“You’re beautiful,” he raps. “If I could, I would put a bullet into every head that made you feel like this, you deserve the world,”

He sees the crystal tears sliding down your face, you smile, it’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen.

“I already have the world,”

Frankie’s hips snap forward, stilling as he emptied himself into you, a loud moan rattles in his throat, eyes half lidded, he leans and drags his mouth across the curve of your breasts.

Well…so much for waiting.

When his mind clears a little, he hears you. Hears the way you’re whimpering his name, spasming as you come undone, cunt fluttering and twitching around him. He hisses out a breath, without even thinking he presses into you more, his cock twitches, more of him seeping into your deepest parts. This time your head falls forward right onto his shoulder, he presses a wet kiss into your temple and keeps himself still until your breathing returns to normal.

“You feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” you sigh heavenly, eyes closed. “Thank you Frankie, for being in my life,”

“The same goes for you too, you know. I would be lost without you. You’re my word just as much as I’m yours,”

You hum into his neck, he can feel you smiling, his chest lightens.

“Can we take a bath?” you mutter, sounding drowsy with sleep.

“Of course, baby. Then I’ll lay you down alright? I’ll make you your favorite,”

“I love you so much,”

“I love you too.”

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#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x reader #triple fontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfic

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wildemaven · 1 year

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Love At First Flight

I had this random Frankie thought earlier this year and totally forgot about it. Just a little something short and sweet (maybe kinda corny too)

Main Masterlist

You babysit your nephew a few times a week to help out your sister.

He loves helicopters, so after school you take him to the small airport where you can watch all the planes and helicopters take off and land.

The viewing bench is near where a few regular helicopters are kept— your nephew is always excited to see the same ones each visit.

One of the pilots notices you both there throughout the week and starts to wave after he lands, loving the look of excitement it brings your nephew by the simple gesture.

After about a month of visits and distant waves, the pilot makes his way over to you and your nephew.

You can’t help but notice how handsome he is the closer he gets. Dark brown curls peak out from his worn baseball cap. A dimple you can just barely notice through his adorable patchy beard. His smile literally takes your breath away.

He gives a small little nervous wave once he reaches the fence and says his name is Frankie. Your nephew is ecstatic, having never met a real life pilot before.

Frankie invites you both out on the air field, offering to give your nephew a tour of his helicopter. You completely melt— not only is he strikingly handsome, but also incredibly sweet. Giving your nephew the rundown of what it takes to operate the aircraft, sharing how he use to fly a bigger one when he was in the army.

Visits feel a little more personal now. If he has time he brings you both out to the helicopter letting your nephew live out his dream of being a pilot— he found an extra pair of aviators laying around and gifted them to your nephew, you can’t have the sun in your eyes when your flying.

You bring him a coffee each visit now. He had mentioned the long hours he puts in when he’s on call, he sometimes rarely gets a chance to grab a warm cup for himself. He appreciates it.

Once summer hits, you’re no longer needed to babysit. You’re sad not seeing the little guy regularly.

One afternoon you find yourself sitting on the viewing bench— watching the aircrafts take off and land has brought you a sense of comfort. A small part of you hoping to see the handsome pilot how unknowingly stole your heart all those months ago.

The bench creaks as someone makes themselves comfortable next to you. You turn to catch that charming smile that you think about so often. Frankie offers you a warm cup of coffee, I noticed you were alone today and thought you could use some company.

You both talk for what feels like hours. Catching the golden pinky hues of the sunset dipping below the horizon.

He walks you back to your car where he asks if you would want to grab dinner with him sometime next week. After an exchanging of numbers, he says he’ll call you tomorrow to set up a day and time for your date.

He leaves you with a sweet kiss on the cheek before he heads to his pickup. Your entire drive home you debate whether it’s too soon to text him, confidence edging out your doubts as you pull into your driveway.

Y/N: Thanks for the wonderful night. I couldn’t wait to talk to you tomorrow, seems too far away 😉

Frankie 🚁: I’m glad we’re on the same page. I was thinking next week is too long of a wait to see you again.

Y/N: Maybe we should plan something for this week instead?? My schedule is pretty flexible, especially when there’s a handsome pilot involved.

Frankie 🚁: Handsome huh?? Pretty bold statement coming from someone as stunning as you are. I guess you could say it’s love at first flight

Y/N: Was that a flying pun?!

Frankie 🚁: Yeah… Kind of lame, right??

Y/N: Nah! I’d say it’s a move in the flight direction 🚁

#frankie morales #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #wildemaven writes

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pintsizemama · 4 months

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Decorating Cookies

Day 17

Summary: You decorate cookies with Will, Frankie, Benny, and Santi.

Pairings: Frankie Morales, Will Miller x You, Frankie Morales, Will Miller x Female Reader

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language, talk of crime scenes and blow jobs, drinking

Word Count: 870

A/N: This goes along with the other Frankie/Will Christmas stories.

Day 16 Day 18 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

You sat on the plush sectional in the cabin surrounded by your four favorite people. Benny and Santi had finally joined you, Will, and Frankie on your Christmas getaway. You were all watching a Christmas movie, but the guys weren’t paying much attention. You eyed the eggnog and saw everyone needed a refill. You stood up and gathered the glasses and disappeared into the kitchen while the guys gave Benny shit about his latest hookup.

Once in the kitchen, you poured more eggnog into each glass and added a hefty dose of bourbon. You made sure to do an extra pour—or two—into Will’s. After the movie you were all planning to decorate cookies together, and you figured the extra bourbon would help Will lighten up and not focus on each cookie being absolutely perfect. You brought the eggnog back in and handed it out to each of the guys. A chorus of ‘thank you’ followed you to your seat. Before you could sit back down Frankie snagged you and pulled you down next to him. He loved to cuddle, and you were surprised it took him this long to grab you. You snuggled in and watched the rest of the movie.

“Who’s ready for some cookie time?” Benny hollered out excitedly.

“Just make sure not to eat all of them before they’re decorated, Benny,” you said with a smile.

“That was one time!” Benny defended himself. You all chuckled and made quick work of pulling out everything you needed and spreading it out on the large table. Will looked a little unsteady, and you worried you may have put a little too much in his eggnog.

“What the fuck is wrong with the gingerbread house?” Benny asked.

“What?” Frankie said.

“Why does it look like two different people decorated it without consulting each other first?” Santi cut in.

“Well, Will decorated one side, and Frankie and I did the other,” you explained.

“Why?” Benny asked.

“Because Will is a perfectionist, and didn’t want us to get into another fight,” you answered.

“Another fight?” Santi questioned.

“Don’t ask,” Frankie groaned.

“Let’s just decorate some cookies,” Will told everyone. You all sat down and got to work. You had to scold Benny a few times for eating too many of the decorations, and Will knocked a few things over as he was reaching for them, but otherwise it was going well. After a while you looked up when you heard Will giggling. You noticed he was still drinking the eggnog. He kept giggling, and had now caught the attention of everyone at the table.

“What’s so funny, Will?” Frankie asked. Will held up his cookie. He was decorating a snowman shaped one and had decided to add a large carrot penis to the lower half, complete with two coal shaped balls.

“My snowman is hung like a horse,” Will laughed. You couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you. The rest of his cookies were definitely not up to his standard. They looked closer to something Frankie would decorate. The guys looked at his work.

“You feeling ok?” Santi asked him.

“I feel great!” He said happily. “This was such a good idea!” He looked around at the cookies that still needed to be decorated. “Is there a Santa shaped one? I wanna make him getting a blow job from Mrs. Claus.”

“Oh Jesus,” you groaned.

“Is he drunk?” Frankie asked.

“I may have been pouring him doubles…and triples in his eggnog,” you confessed. Frankie sighed heavily. “I just wanted him relaxed for this! He’s always such a perfectionist, and I wanted him to have fun…I didn’t think he’d get this drunk. He usually holds his liquor really well.”

“Oh! The head came off this reindeer!” Will shouted. “I’m gonna make it look like a crime scene!” Benny was practically falling off his chair laughing. You carefully pulled the glass of eggnog away from Will while he was busy spreading red icing all over the reindeer to look like blood.

“I’m cutting him off,” you told the guys and pointed to the eggnog.

“Good idea,” Santi agreed. Frankie was watching Will before he turned to you.

“You know this means no sex with him tonight,” he told you.

“What the fuck,” you cursed angrily. “I didn’t think this through.”

“Just fuck Frankie,” Benny chimed in. “Isn’t that the point of two boyfriends? 24/7 dick on tap?”

“Wow, Benny, you’re so romantic,” Frankie said with an eye roll.

“What? Like you’re not gonna fuck her tonight?” Benny asked defensively.

“Not having this conversation with you, Benjamin,” Frankie said shaking his head.

“You might want to move some of those cookies away from him unless you want them all to be ridiculous,” Santi warned. Will had already grabbed three more to add to his Christmas crime scene. Oh, and there was one with Santa getting a blow job from an elf. You shook your head and moved the tray of undecorated cookies to the other side of the table. Will was all laughs and smiles, and you couldn’t feel too bad about getting him drunk. This was the most fun you’d seen him have in a long time.

Day 18

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thot-of-khonshu · 4 months

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All Access, Chapter 1

All Access Masterlist | Ko-Fi | A03 Link

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Word Count: 6.4K

Content: explicit drug use, heavy partying, triple frontier as rockstars, eventual smut, 1975 au

A/N: Thank you so so so much to my beta readers @heythere-mel, @proxima-writes, @nostalxgic, and @pedropascal-whore I am so insanely, eternally grateful you have no idea! Thank you to anyone who has been waiting for this story since it was just a random idea in 2022. I hope you all enjoy it and it makes you sing as loudly as Santiago.

TRIPLE FRONTIER: FROM BATTLEFIELDS TO CENTER STAGE

As the dust of the Vietnam War settles, a new sound emerges from its ashes. Four war veterans—Santiago, Benny, Will, and Frankie—unite under a new banner, Triple Frontier, capturing the soul of a generation seeking peace, love, and rock 'n' roll.

Triple Frontier's latest self-titled album strikes a chord with raw passion and unflinching honesty of their previous work. We can trace their meteoric rise in the music world back to their time serving together in the Vietnam War, an experience that has left an indelible mark on each member and seeps into every note they play.

At the forefront is Santiago Garcia, the charismatic lead singer with vocals matched only by his charm and stage presence; Behind Santiago, Benny Miller lets loose on the drums, laying down the heartbeat of their sound. Will, Benny's older brother on lead guitar, is the soul of the band. He's intuitive and artistic with the guitar akin to Robbie Robertson.

And then there's Francisco Morales on bass. The stoic backbone of the group, his basslines are more than just musical notes—they're lifelines. His bass weaves the music together like a thread that ties each member of the band.

Tom Davis, their manager, has been instrumental in their rise. A fellow vet, he understands their shared history and has transformed their raw, visceral tales into a finely-tuned musical odyssey. Speaking about their journey, Tom says, "These boys have stories that the world needs to hear. I'm just helping amplify their voices."

The band's name, Triple Frontier, references the tri-border area in Southeast Asia—a location many veterans from the Vietnam War will recognize.

Despite the weight of their past, or perhaps because of it, Triple Frontier brings a refreshing authenticity to the rock scene. Their music isn't just entertainment; it's a balm, a therapy, a reminder of the indomitable human spirit.

As they gear up for their nationwide tour, one thing's for certain: Triple Frontier is here to stay, and they're just getting started.

Despite your boss stating he just needed a simple puff piece about Triple Frontier, whenever you reread that review you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when you saw your name in print in Rolling Stone. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You were on the fast track to doing something big at Rolling Stone by the time you were thirty, you could just feel it. After freelance writing post graduation from college, you landed an entry-level job at the magazine. You knew what you were getting into, the long hours and the male-dominated office could be a lot at times, but you were living the dream as far as you were concerned. To write about music and make it your living was a gift you never wanted to take for granted.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were done at work surprisingly early. You lugged your 1969 Dodge home and immediately went to the back patio to light a joint. You slunk back in your chair, inhaling deeply from the joint, and watched the sun dip lower behind the tree line; the warm glow of the Los Angeles sunset never got old. As the smoke filled your lungs, you felt the day slowly dissipate.

The sound of your phone ringing jolted you out of your high-induced stupor but you heard your roommate Jenna flit across the house and yell "I'll get it!" before answering. You took another deep pull off the joint and exhaled, watching the smoke dance around the sky as it faded out.

You heard Jenna call your name from inside. You walked into the kitchen and saw her standing with the phone receiver in her hand, she was looking at you with an expectant expression.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"Some guy named Tom Davis? Sounds foxy." She grinned at you and wiggled her eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and swatted her away before taking the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Hey! I hope you don't mind me calling you at home. Your work number was listed in the phone book, but I didn't know if you'd want to take this call in the office or not. Figured home was probably better."

You had talked to Tom a month back for the Triple Frontier article. You remembered him as a no-nonsense type of guy who didn't beat around the bush, so you knew even though he was calling you at home it wasn't for a dinner party.

"No, that's okay. What can I do for you? I hope the article came out okay?"

"That's actually why I'm calling, I wanted to thank you again for doing such a great job. The guys really loved it and the boss did too. And we've had some new interest in the band and they think an interview series might be a good way to build some buzz during the tour."

You felt excitement bubble up in your stomach. You didn't want to be presumptuous and assume this was an offer, but you also didn't want to say no.

"I'd love to write more about them! I'm not sure if you just want a song by song review or..."

Tom chuckled on the other end.

"Nah, nothing like that. I know this is actually last minute but we're playing a show at the Troubadour on Friday night and we'd love for you to come. I've already cleared it with your editor at Rolling Stone if you're game."

You tried not to sound too eager. Of course you knew about the Troubadour show, it had been sold out for months. You knew this wasn't an easy ticket to score or an opportunity that just falls into your lap like this.

"I would be an idiot to say no."

"That's what I like to hear! I'll be in touch with more details, but I'll have your ticket and backstage pass ready for you on Friday night."

"Awesome, thank you so much."

"Thank you, we'll talk soon!"

He hung up the phone. You stood in the kitchen with the receiver in your hand. You felt like someone had just punched you in the gut, you couldn't believe it. The Troubadour, backstage passes, exclusive interviews... it was the break you'd been waiting for.

This was real rock journalism, the rock journalism your mom cried over when you said you wanted to move out west and pursue this as a career.

Will Mom still think you're dabbling with the devil if your name is under the biggest story for Rolling Stone with the hottest band in the country?

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

By the time Friday night rolled around, you felt like you had a permanent case of butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't often you had the opportunity to attend a show and not write about it, so the fact that you had no other reason for going besides seeing the band was enough to set your nerves on fire. But meeting them?

You'd spent the whole week building scenarios in your head - Would these guys even take you seriously? Would they see you as just another fan? Were they even that interesting to interview, or were their music and looks all there was to them?

You shook the thoughts from your head as you walked up to the Troubadour. The line outside was already around the block and you could feel the energy from the crowd. You saw women with long hair down their backs in tight jeans and crochet tops, some men with hair even longer than theirs and dressed in flared pants and vibrant shirts. You could already smell the weed wafting off some people.

As you approached the bouncer at the back door, he glared at you, intimidating and unwavering.

"I'm here to pick up a press pass from Tom Davis." You tried to exude confidence, even though you felt the opposite. He arched his brow at you before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a paper.

"Name."

You gave him your name and also added what you thought would cement your legitimacy. "I'm with Rolling Stone."

He looked over the paper before his eyes settled on your face.

"Right. This way."

The man turned and opened the door behind him, beckoning for you to follow.

Once inside, he led you through the dimly lit back corridors of the club. You were immediately welcomed into a heavy musk of smoke and sweat. You passed other roadies carrying guitars, amps, and microphones. You felt the excitement rising up again and you had to remind yourself to act cool.

He led you into a dressing room with a large group of people. Everyone had drinks in their hands and seemed to be chatting amongst themselves. The walls were covered in posters and various band members from over the years had scrawled their names on the walls where Tom was seated, reading over a sheet of paper.

"There she is! Good to see you." Tom immediately spotted you from the crowd, his tall and imposing figure stood up and made his way over to you. He was wearing a black leather jacket and his hair was pushed back with gel. He looked every bit the rocker, and you couldn't help but wonder if he always dressed like that. With the band but not in the band.

He reached into his back pocket to pull out a laminated press pass. "Here you go, this should get you access to whatever you need."

You took the press pass and held it up, smiling. You were still in shock.

"I can't thank you enough, Tom. This really is an honor."

Tom chuckled and clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Honor's ours. We're looking forward to the piece."

"Speaking of pieces, If you're gonna write about the band you might as well meet them. Come with me."

He started making his way toward the back of the room. As he passed, the people parted to let him through. You followed closely behind, trying to not lose him.

He led you towards a cluster of men in the corner. They were talking amongst themselves, beers in hand and laughing. You recognized Benny–the drummer–from the album cover, by his shaggy, dirty blonde hair. He was bouncing off the soles of his feet, drumsticks tucked in his belt loop, and was the center of the circle.

Will was leaning against the wall, his long blonde hair tucked in a bun. He had a cigarette dangling between his lips and a guitar pick in his hand, fiddling with it.

Next to Will, Santiago was sitting on a couch, his arm draped over the back with a glass tumbler in his other hand. His eyes shined as he was talking to the other boys, taking his hand to smooth out his jet-black hair.

It was true what every girl said - his pants were as tight as his voice.

And then there was Frankie.

He was standing next to Santiago, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingertips. He was leaning on his elbow on the wall behind Santiago, listening to Benny.

He was handsome. His brown hair was covered in his signature baseball cap, and the stubble along his jaw along with his mustache gave him a rugged look. You couldn't help but notice the muscles underneath his thin shirt. You could see his arms flexing underneath the material, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer.

He was the first one to notice you, looking at you before he did Tom. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but you could tell he was assessing the situation.

"Boys," Tom boomed, "I want you to meet the writer from Rolling Stone."

Santiago and Will turned their heads in unison, but Frankie's eyes stayed fixed on you.

Santiago's smile broadened, and Will raised his eyebrow and nodded. Frankie's expression didn't change.

"Well, hey, welcome to the party." Santiago stood up and extended his hand. You reached out and took his, shaking it. His hand was soft and his grip was firm.

"Nice to meet you." You tried to sound confident.

"You've already met Tom, obviously," he gestured towards Tom, who smiled at you, "and this is Will and Benny, and that's Frankie."

Benny smiled at you, and Frankie's eyes flickered over to Santiago as he said his name, but he didn't speak. You had a feeling this was his way of letting everyone else talk.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm a huge fan." You offered them a friendly smile.

Benny spoke up, "Well then, I like you already. You'll make us look good!"

Tom looked down at his watch and then snapped up at the guys. "Shit–we have ten minutes before showtime, you guys need to get down to the stage."

They started moving and shuffling: Will stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, Benny put down his beer, and Santiago tossed back his drink. Frankie had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to watch them all go by.

Tom turned back to you, "What are you doing? You're going down with us. ‘Can't write about the show if you aren't there."

You felt the rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your face broke out into a huge grin.

"Yeah, right. Okay."

Tom smiled and turned, heading for the door. You followed him, trying to keep up with his strides. Backstage was a flurry of activity and you felt like you were on a hamster wheel trying to stay out of the way. You couldn't help but stare at the scene before you, the lights and the sounds, the smell.

After navigating through the throng of people and equipment, you found yourself on the side of the stage, the lights dim and the sound of the audience humming through the floorboards. While Tom had stopped to talk with one of the lighting guys, you could see the boys getting into their instruments and tuning up.

You looked over and saw Frankie. He had taken off his hat and was carding his hand through his thick hair. His mouth was turned down into a frown, but you could see the glimmer of his eyes.

He looked up at you. Your breath hitched and you could feel your cheeks start to burn. He held your gaze for a moment before turning away and putting his hat back on.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and the audience erupted in cheers. The guys, including Tom, went into a huddle and you slowly inched yourself closer, not wanting to miss this moment.

You heard Benny shout, "Let's get it done tonight, boys! Let's give the fans what they came for."

You could see Santiago's grin spread across his face, "This is our mission. Our job. Our purpose."

Tom placed his hand into the middle, "I'm proud of you, boys. Now, let's go fucking rock this shit."

They put their hands together and Santiago began to sing "Stop, hey, what's that sound..."

Like a ritual, the rest of the men in the circle sang "Everybody look what's going down."

With that, the boys dispersed and you felt so lucky to be in that moment. You feel their connection, their comradery, their love.

You saw Tom pat Benny on the back. "Showtime!" he boomed. Benny ran onto the stage and the crowd roared. You could hear the clatter of sticks in the air as Benny hit the cymbal to start playing their song "Echoes".

The rest of the guys filed onto the stage and you were immediately struck by the sheer energy radiating off the crowd. They were cheering, clapping, dancing. There was so much movement and excitement and you felt the hairs on your arms stand up.

The band started their set with a bang. You watched as Santiago worked the crowd, his voice smooth and strong. He walked slowly, confidently, swaying with every step. The crowd was eating out of the palm of his hand.

You'd never experienced a concert like this, being able to watch from the sidelines and take in everything. The lights, the sound, the way the crowd responded.

Your eyes drifted to Frankie. He was focused and precise with his guitar, his hands moving effortlessly across the strings. You watched the muscles in his arms flex and strain as he played along with the concentration in his eyes.

The rest of the concert flew by. Before you knew it, the band was finishing up their final song, and the crowd was going crazy. You watched as Santiago, Frankie, Benny, and Will took their final bows.

The audience screamed. Santiago leaned over and spoke into the microphone, "Los Angeles, thank you. We love you! Goodnight!"

And with that, the lights dimmed and the guys filed off stage. Tom turned and motioned for you to follow as he led you to a different area where the guys were drinking bottles of water and catching their breath.

Benny was sweating, his face flushed red. "Man, we really fucking killed it."

Santiago grinned, wiping his brow. "You bet your ass we did. That was one of the best shows we've done."

Frankie was leaning against the wall, a bottle of water in his hand. He was drinking it slowly, his eyes looking up and meeting yours.

Will looked over at you and gave you a wink. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh my god, yes. That was incredible." You were trying to be professional, but your excitement was starting to show through, an excitement that Santiago could start to see through.

Santiago clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Now that we've broken your legs, I think it's time for the afterparty. Are you coming with us?"

"The afterparty?"

"Of course," Tom chimed in, "you don't have to go, but it might give you some time to chat with the guys more and get some quotes. These things tend to be a good time so I can also book you a room, on us. It's at the Chateau Marmont."

"Holy shit."

"That's the spirit." Santiago winked.

You hesitated, knowing how big a decision this was. The idea of the afterparty excited you, but it was also a chance to spend more time with these guys. To talk to them one-on-one and maybe get some insights that would really sell the article.

You took a deep breath and looked around the room, at the guys waiting expectantly.

"Alright, count me in."

You could have sworn you saw Frankie's lip twitch up into a smile.

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

The afterparty was at a bungalow at the Chateau Marmont and it was a mess of people, noise, and debauchery. You tried to take it all in but you just couldn't. There was too much happening at once.

You found a bar top to sit at, watching the scene unfold. Santiago was at the piano playing some old jazz tunes and laughing with gorgeous women surrounding him. Tom was chatting up some record exec, a scotch in his hand. You even saw Benny and Will having an impromptu arm wrestling match in the corner. Frankie so far wasn't anywhere to be found.

The music, the lights, the alcohol. All of it was almost overwhelming and you were starting to wonder why you decided to come.

This world of excess and debauchery was so foreign to you, a far cry from the quiet solitude of your apartment where you usually did your writing. You've been to parties but nothing like this. You thought about your male coworkers at Rolling Stone, who seemed to fit seamlessly into the rock and roll lifestyle, effortlessly bonding with their subjects over shared experiences and unspoken understandings.

You focused on scribbling notes in your notebook, trying to make sense of the chaos around you and organize your thoughts about the concert. The more you wrote, the more your head cleared, and you found yourself able to better compartmentalize everything you'd experienced.

As you were finishing up your notes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey."

You turned and saw Santiago standing behind you. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"Hey." You replied.

He moved to stand beside you, looking at the party in front of you.

"What are you doing over here by yourself? Having fun?" He asked, taking a swig of the whiskey.

You shrugged, "I guess I just wanted to take everything in, get a feel of the scene. "

"Through your notepad?" He asked, gesturing towards your notes.

"Yeah, uh, it's easier for me to write things down."

"Ah," he took another swig, "can I ask you a question?"

You looked up at him. He was staring down at you, a smirk on his face.

"Sure."

"Why do you wanna write a story about us?"

It wasn't the question you were expecting. You had prepared for a list of generic questions like how you got into writing and your favorite bands, but this one caught you off guard.

"Because..." You hesitated, not sure how to answer, "...because I think you guys are cool."

Santiago smirked, leaning in.

"Cool? That's it?"

"Yeah," you said, feeling slightly defensive. "I think you guys have something special."

He chuckled to himself, taking a joint from a walking passerby, and taking a hit. "That's what they all say."

"All who?"

"People, the press. They all want to write a story about the cool, rebellious, rock and roll band, but the thing is, no one ever actually gets it."

"Maybe because the people who write about you are only interested in the glamorous lifestyle and not the reality of it."

He cocked his eyebrow.

"The reality?"

"Yeah," you said, closing your notebook. "I don't want to write a story about what I see here. This is a party, a show. It's not what's real."

Santiago studied you for a moment, and you felt the tension in the air between you. It was as if he was trying to read you, to figure out what made you tick.

"I'm here to witness the magic, the brotherhood. You can feel the bond between you guys: it's real, it's tangible, it's magnetic. People come to see your shows to see it. Shit, people come to the Chateau Marmont at 1 AM to see it. People want more."

You met his gaze, unwavering. You weren't going to back down.

He laughed, taking a step back. "Okay, okay. I believe you."

You smiled, relieved.

"But I'm gonna let you in on a little secret…Tom? He's over the moon, hunky fuckin' dory that you're writing this piece, but the truth is? We're a little skeptical, a little worried. We wanna look good but we also don't want this to be a puff piece. You've convinced me though, I believe you when you say you wanna do something different. So here's the deal - if you want the real story, the one that matters, you need to prove it."

You swallowed.

"And how do I do that?"

He smirked, gesturing to the crowd. "Come hang with us, chill out, see how we are when it's just us. If you can do that, I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. If you wanna get to know the real us, you gotta dive in."

Santiago offered you the joint, and you took it from him, putting it to your lips and inhaling.

He grinned. "Welcome to the team."

You hesitated for a moment. You wanted to get the real story, the one that mattered, but you were afraid. What if you didn't fit in? What if the guys didn't like you?

But Santiago had a point. You needed to prove yourself, and what better way than by actually hanging out with the band?

So you sucked it up, took a long drag off the joint, and threw caution to the wind.

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

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the party was still in full swing. The doubts and fears that plagued you had floated away along with your sobriety. Santiago had been a great host, introducing you to people, making sure you had a drink in your hand, and keeping the conversation going. You'd lost track of how many drinks you'd had, but you were feeling good.

He'd also gotten you better acquainted with Will and Benny. Will was reserved but he was incredibly knowledgeable about music, and you spent most of your conversation talking about some of the more obscure bands you both liked in common. With Benny, he was the life of the party. He had an infectious smile and was quick to laugh.

Frankie was another story entirely.

Frankie had eventually been found at the party but he'd stayed off to the side, talking quietly with a group of people, occasionally smoking a cigarette or sipping from a glass. You watched him throughout the night.

He'd glance at you from time to time, his eyes dark and unreadable. His gaze would linger, sending shivers down your spine. You would try to catch his eye, but he'd look away before you could make contact.

A model that you recognized from a cover of Cosmopolitan pulled out a baggie of coke and offered some to everyone at the table. You politely declined and headed for the bathroom.

You walked around the hallway and saw a few sets of doors. You opened a door to see Tom sitting on the bed, the phone cord stretched across the room.

"Of course I'm thinking about this damn offer, it's all I can think about. Fuck, I just don't know if this is the right move. If I had another band under my roster the boys would kill me, but the money they're offering? It's the kind of money we can't turn down."

You tried to back out of the room quietly, but sobriety be damned, the heel of your shoe clicked loudly on the hardwood floor as you tripped. Tom turned, his eyebrows raised and his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.

You mouthed an apology and quickly made your way out of the room. Humiliation and embarrassment flooding through you, you decided you needed some air.

You made your way outside, the cool air hitting your face. You inhaled deeply, trying to clear your mind and slow your racing heart. You only had a bit of context but you knew that wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.

You sat down on the ground, resting your head against the wall. You could feel your body relax, the tension easing from your shoulders.

As you closed your eyes, the events of the evening replayed in your head. The music, the energy, the excitement.

Suddenly, you felt someone sit next to you. You looked over and saw Frankie, his expression still unreadable.

"Hey."

"Hi." You tried to sound casual, hoping the high pitch in your voice didn't sell you out.

He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly. The smoke curled in the air, dancing in the breeze.

You sat in silence for a moment, watching the smoke drift away, trying to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"Having fun?" Frankie's voice was low and husky, his question caught you off guard. "What do you think of all of this so far?"

"It's definitely not what I'm used to."

He chuckled, and you couldn't help but smile. He took another cigarette from the carton, offering one to you.

You took the cigarette from him and he lit it, the flame flickering in the darkness. You felt the smoke fill your lungs.

"What are you used to then?" He asked, his eyes locked on yours.

"Lighting a joint at the end of a long day, writing a draft for an article, and throwing it in the trash. Sitting at home alone and wondering if I'm ever gonna break out."

Frankie smiled. "We're not what you expected, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not at all."

You took another drag of the cigarette. The combination of weed, whiskey, and nicotine was making your head spin, and you couldn't stop the giggle that escaped your lips.

Frankie smirked.

"Lightweight."

You nodded, leaning your head against the wall. You looked over at Frankie, his profile illuminated by the moonlight. He was handsome, his jawline sharp and his lips full. His hair was tousled under his hat and his stubble was perfectly trimmed. You could see the muscles in his arms flex as he brought the cigarette to his mouth, and you felt your breath hitch.

You looked away, feeling a blush creep up your neck. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, the drugs, or his presence that was making you feel so flustered.

"What are you doing out here anyways?" You asked, trying to distract yourself from the butterflies in your stomach.

Frankie shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I could ask you the same question."

You laughed, the alcohol and weed finally settling in.

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, I needed some fresh air."

Frankie nodded, understanding. "I'm not really one for big parties."

"Is that why you weren't around earlier?"

He gave you a curious look. "You really are quite the observant reporter."

You grinned. "I'm a professional."

He smirked, your gaze turning back to the sky. You couldn't help but feel his eyes linger on your skin, you felt like you were burning up.

"I'm just not a huge fan of the crowds. I like the music, the shows, but the parties are sometimes too much."

"I can understand that."

"Can you?"

You looked at him, surprised by his question. "Of course."

He raised his eyebrow. "How so?"

You shrugged. "I've had my share of experiences. Not quite like this, but enough that I get it. Sometimes I'd rather just sit back with a joint and observe it all."

Frankie's lips twitched into a small smile. "Me too."

You couldn't help but smile back. He seemed much less guarded now.

You took another drag of your cigarette; the smoke swirling around the two of you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Frankie glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching again.

"Sure."

"What brought you into music? How'd you end up here?"

He considered your question for a moment, tapping the ashes of his cigarette.

"Well, I just always loved music. I was a quiet kid and my parents weren't around a lot. Santi moved to Miami when we were eight and we just immediately hit it off. Whatever he did, I did. If he joined the baseball team, I joined the baseball team. And then he started playing guitar. We'd sit in his garage for hours and play. I never knew I wanted to be a musician until then. It just felt right."

He paused, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"How'd you get into journalism?"

You froze. The truth was, you had no idea. You just always felt drawn to writing. You had a knack for it and it came easily to you. You never had any grand plan or vision, it was more like a calling.

"I guess I just felt called to it. I was always writing stories as a kid and then I wanted to write about real people and real stories."

He studied you, his eyes searching yours.

"So far, do you like my story?"

You grinned, "I don't know your story yet."

He smiled, exposing a dimple as you felt your heart skip a beat.

"It's been a long time since I've actually talked to someone like this."

"Me too."

There was a moment of comfortable silence. You could hear the sounds of the city around you, the cars honking, the music and laughter drifting from inside. Suddenly, you heard the door open and Tom stepped out.

"Some chick from Apple Records just threw up on my Italian boots. This is a disaster."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "You've had worse, Tom."

Tom groaned. "I'm gonna call it a night. You guys have that radio station interview tomorrow and I need to get ready for it in the morning."

"I should probably get some sleep too." Frankie stretched out and yawned, his shirt riding up and exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans.

You felt your mouth go dry and quickly looked away.

"Did you get the room key I left for you?" Tom asked you. "We rented out the whole second floor, so you've got your pick of rooms."

"Yeah, thanks." You dug into your back pocket, pulling out the key.

"I gotta clean this shit up so I'll see you guys in the morning."

He retreated away from the cottage, leaving you and Frankie alone once more.

You stood, dusting off the back of your pants. "I guess I should get some sleep, I'm pretty wasted."

"I'm heading up myself, so I can walk you to your hotel room."

"Oh, okay." You said in a high-pitched tone.

"Unless you don't want me to."

"No! No, I want you to, I just wasn't sure if you wanted to say goodnight to the guys?"

"They're honestly too fucked up to remember anything right now. Besides, I'd rather make sure you get there safe."

You blushed, the alcohol and weed still affecting you. "Thanks."

You and Frankie made your way back into the main building, the party still raging on from the cottage nearby. While you walked through the halls and into the elevator, you marveled at the luxury of the famous chateau. You'd heard so many stories but to say you'd gone to a party there, even for a couple of hours, was something you’d never forget.

The two of you got into the elevator, and you were acutely aware of Frankie's presence. He was tall–at least a foot taller than you–and his shoulders were broad and muscular. You could smell his scent, a mixture of spice, nicotine, and citrus.

The both of you got off on the second floor, walking silently down the hallway. The hotel was dark and quiet; it was as if the rest of the world had faded away.

You reached your room, fumbling with the key and unlocking the door.

"This is me."

Frankie nodded. "Good night."

You stepped into the room and turned around, watching as he walked away.

"Good night."

You watched him disappear around the corner, the butterflies in your stomach erupting again.

Once the door had shut behind you, you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You were still buzzing from the alcohol and the pot but there was something else, an energy that you hadn't felt before.

You stripped off your clothes, letting them pool on the floor, and crawled into the bed. As you drifted off, you felt yourself smile.

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

You were jolted awake by the shrill ring of the hotel telephone. Before you could even think, your head was already pounding from last night and its excess. You squinted at the clock next to you, the bold white words focusing on 9:30 AM.

"Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and still heavy with sleep.

"Morning! It's Tom." Tom sounded surprisingly chipper given last night's circumstances with his Italian shoes. Not one to beat around the bush, he started, "I have a proposition for you."

You were instantly alert, sitting up straight in the bed. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I had a long talk with Santiago this morning. About you."

You swallowed nervously. You knew that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Okay.."

"He told me that you really want to tell the real story of the band, that you want to get to the bottom of who we are."

You paused, considering your words carefully.

"That's correct. I think there's more to your story, more than meets the eye."

"That's exactly what I thought, which is why I have an offer for you."

You held your breath. You didn't want to seem eager but you couldn't help the excitement building inside of you.

"I'm listening."

"Rolling Stone wants an in-depth piece, right? Well, what better way to get that than by joining us on tour?"

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in.

"You mean..go on tour with you guys? Be a part of the band?"

"It's the only way to really understand us, right? Get into our world, our culture, and experience it for yourself. I already pitched it to your editor and he said as long as the label pays for expenses and you're game, he's game."

You were astounded at the things that Tom Davis could get done before noon.

"But..how would that work? Where would I stay? I don't have any experience touring or writing on the road."

You took a deep breath, processing everything Tom had just told you. "I'd be lying if I said that this wasn't an incredible offer."

"An incredible offer you can't refuse?"

You couldn't help but smile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "An incredible offer I can't refuse."

Tom let out a hearty laugh, "That's what I like to hear! Look, we've already discussed it amongst ourselves, and as for accommodations, we're a tight-knit group, we always look out for one another. You'll have a place to crash every night, always a nice hotel to stay in."

Your mind was racing with possibilities. The chance to immerse yourself in their world, to witness their artistry up close and personal—it was an opportunity unlike any other. "What about interviews? Will I have unrestricted access?"

Tom nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. We want this to be as authentic as possible. You'll have full access to everyone in the band, backstage, on the bus, wherever we go. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you won't hold back. We want the real story, the gritty details, the highs and lows of life on the road. Don't sugarcoat anything."

You nodded with determination. "I promise, Tom. I'll give it my all."

"Good," he said with a satisfied smile. "I have a feeling you're going to fit right in."

As you pressed down on the end call button, a surge of adrenaline shot through your veins. This was it - the opportunity to delve deep into the core of the band and capture their raw energy in words for all to experience. Just thinking about it made your heart race, and as you thought of Frankie, you felt an unfamiliar warmth in your belly.

You'd have a new adventure ahead of you, one that would change your life forever.

157 notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 3 months

Text

My Boys

Frankie Morales x fem!reader x Benny Miller (Messy Pile of Affection universe)

Word count- 1.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), mmf threesome, established relationship, pegging, anal, fingering, oral (m receiving, hint at f receiving), soft dom reader, sub!Frankie, praise, pet names (babe, baby), fluff, feelings, no use of y/n

Notes- A bonus for Peg That Middle Ages Man Campaign!!! Thanks again to @wannab-urs for putting this event on!! And while this is et in MPoA-verse, this can be read on it's own since it's just smut lol! But I love writing this thruple so much so I'm happy with how this turned out! Enjoy!

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

“Shit…” you breathed as you soaked in the sight before you, “You guys look so fucking hot right now.”

Benny looked up from where he concentrated on Frankie in front of him and smirked at you, “So do you, babe,” he winked.

You bit your lip as you grinned back at one of your boyfriends. The way his gaze bore into you made your skin tingle. Absentmindedly, you ran your hand down the front of your body, testing Benny with a squeeze of your breast before you grabbed the dildo that sat snugly in the harness you wore- the only thing on your body. Benny let out a soft moan at the show you put on as his cock twitched just against Frankie’s face.

Between you and Benny, Frankie was positioned on his hands and knees, just as bare as both of you. His skin glistened from sweat from the fingering you just gave him, and generous amounts of lube dripped from between his asscheeks. Benny had watched as you prepped Frankie for your dildo, his hand stroking his cock the entire time as he enjoyed the show the two of you put on.

“You alright, Frankie?” you murmured as you caressed his back, running your hand up and down his spine.

“Great, babe,” Frankie smirked as he looked over his shoulder, “Fuck you do look hot with that strap!”

Heat rose in your skin as your tone dropped, “I like you on your hands and knees too, baby.”

“Fuck, me too!” Benny interjected enthuastically.

Frankie turned back and looked up at Benny with his mouth open. His mouth watered at the sight of his cock, so beautiful and yet just out of reach of his lips. “Ben…” he breathed.

In a rare display of soft tenderness, Benny cupped Frankie’s face, running his thumb across the soft stubble as they locked eyes. From behind, you still ran your hands up and down Frankie’s sides in a soothing manner. Heavy breaths filled the room as the three of you stayed hypnotized by each other. Hands roamed all over, touching and caressing wherever you all could reach.

It was you who finally broke the silence, “You ready, Frankie babe?” you asked in a hushed tone, yet one that still held all the need you felt as the tip of your dildo tickled the skin of his ass.

He let out a low groan, “Yes,” he replied to you as he adjusted himself slightly, “Fuck me, baby.”

Benny let out a low groan of his own as you coated the dildo once more in lube and positioned yourself. “She’s gonna fuck you so good, Fish,” he moaned, knowing first hand just how proficient you were with your strap.

You glanced up for a moment and gave Benny a knowing smirk before you turned all your attention on the toy that you had poking at Frankie’s entrance. Before he could come up with a clever comeback to Benny’s comment, you pushed the tip in, causing any thought he might have had to vanish from his mind.

As Frankie moaned loudly, all he could think about was how good the stretch of your cock felt as you slowly pushed into him. You kneaded and spread his ass as you watched the toy disappear into him inch by inch until your hips met his ass. Benny too watched in awe, frozen in captivation.

“You doing ok, Frankie?” you asked in a whisper as you gave him a moment to adjust.

“Y-yeah,” he whimpered as his arms trembled to keep him up. He then looked up to meet Benny’s piercing gaze, “Your turn, Ben.”

“Fuck…” he breathed as Frankie’s mouth dropped open for him in an invitation.

Without a word, you gave your hips a thrust, catching Frankie and Benny both by surprise. And the sound that Frankie let out went right to your core and made you clench around nothing. “Fuck,” you echoed Benny’s curse under your breath as you thrust again, pushing Frankie forward this time.

As he lurched forward, Frankie aimed himself right at Benny’s hard cock, and the moment he was close enough, he wrapped his lips around it. Benny gasped as the warmth of Frankie’s mouth engulfed him, and he grabbed his shoulders to make sure he didn’t let go.

Together, you and Benny found a rhythm on either side of Frankie. The slow thrust of your hips made a squelching echo in the room as Frankie’s moans were muffled by Benny’s cock in his mouth. Benny, however, moaned loudly as he felt Frankie’s tongue along his length. And you couldn’t help but moan as you watched your boys in front of you.

Picking up your pace, you felt the room warm as the need grew exponentially. Overwhelmed with emotions, you reeled your hand back and slapped Frankie’s ass hard as you thrust even deeper into him. The moan he let out, while muffled, still filled the room as Frankie jolted forward in surprise. Benny’s eyes widened as he watched you rock your hips harder and faster into your shared boyfriend.

“Shit baby,” Benny groaned, “Do that again.”

“You like that, huh?” you purred as you did exactly that. Slapping Frankie’s ass again, both men groaned and you felt dizzy from how hot it was. “Yeah… I think both my boys like that,” you added as you slapped Frankie once more, squeezing it hard this time.

“Fuck…” Benny growled as his own hips stuttered into Frankie’s mouth, driving his cock down his throat.

Frankie had never been so helpless in his life. And he had never been more turned on. Though his own groans and moans were muffled by Benny’s cock in his mouth, he knew you both could tell he was enjoying this. The muscles in his ass clenched as he squeezed your dildo as you thrust into him over and over again, mirroring the way both he and Benny would fuck you.

Benny could feel Frankie’s moans around his length, and it sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. “Shit…” he groaned as his mind went blank too. Normally Benny had a lot to say during sex, but tonight he was speechless. Watching you fuck Frankie while his own cock was deep down his throat was almost too much in the best way possible.

“My boys are so fucking good for me,” you cooed as you grabbed Frankie’s hips to angle yourself differently. As you gave one harsh thrust, Frankie’s mouth dropped open, allowing a cry to spill out unmuffled. “That’s it,” you purred as you started rocking your hips back and forth again, “That’s my Frankie baby.”

“Fuck, baby,” Benny’s eyes started to roll back into his head as he felt his climax start to build, “I’m the luckiest fuckin’ guy to get you two… Ahh… Fuck….” The way Frankie groaned into his cock sent wave and wave of pleasure up Benny’s spine. And Benny couldn’t help but thrust his hips into his mouth in time with your thrusts. “Fuck I’m gonna cum…”

That was the only warning Frankie got before Benny’s cock exploded in his mouth. He gagged for a moment until he closed his lips around his cock and sucked hard, letting his boyfriend ride out his orgasm in his mouth. He was rocked back and forth by your pounding on the other end, but Frankie concentrated hard on swallowing every last drop, not wanting anything to go to waste.

“That’s it, Frankie baby,” Benny cooed as he gave one last thrust.

You stilled yourself for a moment, burying your dildo deep inside Frankie as Benny slowly pulled out of his mouth. You allowed him to take one deep breath as he tasted fresh air for the first time, but then you started up again. “Let us see you cum now, Frankie,” you murmured as you reached around and wrapped your hand around his cock.

Frankie’s moan filled the room as he was able to voice his pleasure for the first time that night. He leaned forward, resting his hard on Benny’s chest as he listened to the sweet nothing’s he whispered in his ear as you pounded into him.

Pumping his cock at the same time, you let out a moan of your own as you listened to the chorus of your boys together. Even after having cum, Benny wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it lazily, sending chills up his spine and overstimulating himself. And you couldn't help but notice.

“Fuck…” you breathed as you clenched your jaw and sped up your pace.

“Fuck!” Frankie cried out as the sensations almost got too much for him, but in the best way, “Baby…”

“Cum, Frankie.”

That was all it took to send him over the edge. Gripping into Benny for dear life, Frankie came hard with a loud groan. He saw stars as you thrust into his sweet spot over and over again while you worked his cock with your hand. And feeling Benny as an anchor only added to the emotions. Frankie made a mess between their bodies as his seed splashed them both.

With a final grunt, you thrust fully into Frankie once last time, pumping his cock to squeeze every last ounce of orgasm from him before you knew he had enough. Heavy breaths filled the room as you leaned forward, resting against Benny as well.

“I’ve got you, babes,” Benny murmured as he wrapped his arms around you both, awkwardly holding his boyfriend and his girlfriend in his arms, “Fuck that was so hot,” he added in a whisper.

“Fuck yeah it was,” Frankie replied with an exhausted laugh.

You just hummed with a smile on your face as you enjoyed the feeling of Frankie under you. It was almost as if you could feel the cock inside of him, much like the way they each liked to stay inside of you for several moments before pulling out.

Benny was the first to open his eyes, taking in the sight of the two loves of his life in his arms, “I love you guys,” he blurted out.

“I love you too,” you blinked your eyes open.

“I love you guys too,” Frankie groaned as he pushed himself up, causing your strap to pull out of him in the process of adjusting to see you both.

He turned to you first, cupping your face and placing a deep, passionate kiss on your lips. He swallowed the moan you let out, and savored the taste of you on his tongue. Then, Frankie broke away with a gasp for breath before he turned to Benny and kissed him the same way. Hand roamed all over each other as you leaned in and joined in on the kiss. The three of you became a puddle of lips and tongues as you all tried to kiss each other at the same time, emotions overpowering the fact that it was awkward and messy. But that was perfect for how the three of you always were.

This time, it was Frankie who broke the silence as he turned to you, “Now how about Ben and I eat your sweet pussy until you can’t fuckin’ think anymore, baby.”

You whimpered in response as your skin tingled and warmed. In the heat of the moment, you almost forgot that your own needs weren’t taken care of.

“Shit I love when you talk like that, Frankie,” Benny groaned, “But I am starved so…”

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moralesispunk · 2 years

Text

Frankie Morales x Afab! Reader

Summary: Frankie often worries that he is not enough, years of making himself disappear into the corner of a room coming back to bite him, but you are there to show him otherwise

Warnings: insecure Frankie, bi-Frankie (though do I even need to put that as a warning idk), smut, protected sex, oral sex, kissing

A/n: This thought came to me when I saw this (very nsfw) gif - it is short but it’s the first time I’ve had motivation to write something that isn’t tfbu fic updates so I hope you enjoy :)

He noticed it the first time he was with you; the shiver that runs through your body when he presses a feather-light touch against your bare skin. It’s completely involuntary - a tense of your stomach, a shiver of your shoulders, a broken gasp that pushes past your parting lips - but it set off a hunger in the very pit of his stomach that made him want to completely devour you as you laid out before him.

Frankie, ever since his growth spurt aged thirteen, had been overly aware of his presence in any room he walked into. His therapist had said that it was his anxiety making him feel like everyone’s eyes were on him and that really wasn’t the case but Frankie felt like there was something more to it than that.

He had never been tall by any means - above average maybe - but with his broad shoulders, heavy footsteps and deep voice that made it impossible to whisper, Frankie felt as though he was taking up space that didn’t belong to him and he found himself trying to make himself smaller. He would hunch over slightly and keep his arms close to his side; he spoke less and less until he simply became the observer at the end of the table; he held everything in his calloused hands as though it was made of glass and would shatter into a thousand pieces if he held on too tight. He thought that if he made himself smaller - handled things with greater care - then maybe people would ignore him, or that maybe - if he tried really hard - he would be able to wash away some of the violence he had been a part of and replace it with something kinder.

Because of this, there were two categories people started to put Frankie into: mysterious or strange. His friends, the men he came to call brothers, were part of the former; they would introduce him as “strong and silent type” and thought that it would work to get him a date.

It often did, the stranger in the bar batting their eyelashes at him as they leaned across the sticky-from-beer surface while resting a hand on his arm as they asked “so why Catfish?”

It would never take long before these people quickly picked him up and moved him from mysterious into strange and there was an awkward goodbye outside his front door or theirs - girls who wanted him to be rougher, guys who wanted him to talk more who suddenly were put off by his quiet demeanor, people he had really tried with but had gotten bored of how long he was taking to open up.

He started to think he was broken - a word his therapist had tried and failed to remove from his vocabulary - because surely there had to be something wrong with him. It couldn’t be the case that every single person often got frustrated with him and that it was their problem rather than his.

But then he had met you and it’s not to say that those thoughts or feelings had been silenced overnight but when he was with you he felt like being himself was enough.

When he preferred to ask you questions over answering them you never got frustrated, you bobbed your head as you answered every one he asked on the drive to the restaurant he had booked for your date. When he offered up one word answers because he was too nervous to say more, or because he had never really got used to giving an explanation for anything he said in the hope that the conversation would move on to the next person, you would keep going.

He was trying so hard because he really liked you and he didn’t want you to think he was strange, too quiet or too gentle, but your smile never faltered the whole night as you spoke all the way through dinner and the drive home.

“Why did you move out here?” Frankie asked before taking another bite out of his burger.

“School first, then I got a job, and then another job,” you rolled your eyes as you pretended to complain about all the life decisions that meant you were living in this quiet town made up of mostly young families and retirees but the smile on your face told Frankie you loved it really. “It was never my first choice school and I hated moving but I think I found my people here. Well, I did and then one of my best friends moved to Australia for work and the other is now on the other side of the country as of last week so… I guess we’ll see what happens.” You shrugged, leaning forward and taking another sip of beer before taking a bite of your burger that was somehow almost as finished as Frankie’s despite his silence and your chatter. “What about you?”

“Army. I’m stationed at the base just outside of town.”

He winced as he heard back how blunt his answer was and his fingers tightened around the edge of the table as he waited for the awkward silence to fall.

“That must be a lot of moving about… but that’s interesting. I always say I should travel more but…”

His shoulders relaxed and his mouth fell open a little as the awkwardness never came, his mouth curving up slightly at the corner as you fell down a rabbit hole or where you wanted to see most in the world while asking Frankie if he had ever been and stopping just long enough to listen to his brief, few word answers, before going on.

He had almost laughed on the drive home when he pulled up outside your house and you apologized to him.

“Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous,” your hands pressed against your cheeks and you laughed.

Frankie smiled back at you, the widest one he had shared that night. “That’s alright. I don’t talk much.” When I’m nervous. Or ever, if I’m telling the truth.

You seemed to understand what he was saying and you reached across and squeezed his hand, following it with a kiss on the cheek before hopping out of his truck.

But no matter how well the date went, for the next few weeks he felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop - waiting for you to get bored of keeping the conversation going or reaching to turn on the radio when the car fell quiet - but it never did.

As you stumbled over the threshold into his bedroom for the first time his mind was racing as he tried to work out what you would want him to be like. He found that people often guessed he would be rougher, throwing their bodies from position to position as he took his pleasure from them, but Frankie preferred to take his time. He liked to learn from the other person and, honestly, preferred seeing their pleasure that he knew he caused rather than chase his own.

He was so worried in his own mind had barely realized that you had stopped kissing before you placed your hands on his cheek, tilting his head down to look into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” His brows furrowed and his hands rested on your waist.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with what is happening right now - with your mouth pressed against his and your eyes staring back at him, this person he can feel himself falling in love with. If only he could get his mind to quiet for one night.

“You just…” your thumbs stroked across his cheeks. “It feels like you’re somewhere else.” You tapped his temple gently.

“I just- I just want to make you feel good,” he mumbled, bending down to kiss your neck while hiding his face from your gaze.

“I- fuck, Frankie,” you gasped when he kissed the spot just below your ear. “I don’t think there is any doubt about you making me feel good.” You laughed nervously. “Just- just do what feels good for you, too.”

He could feel his cheeks flush a bright pink but he nodded against your neck, walking you backwards until your body fell against the mattress and he stood over you.

His hands worked slowly as he pulled your clothes off, taking his time to trace and kiss your skin that was revealed to him inch by inch, but you never hurried him on. You brushed his hair from his eyes, let out a breathy moan when he kissed somewhere he made sure to remember was particularly sensitive; you gasped his name but not in a way that urged him on but rather one that sounded like you would be happy to keep doing this.

At some point you were bare before him and his clothes had been abandoned too, his body covering yours as you let your own hands trace over his skin while noting the bruises and scars as well as the places that made his breath catch in his throat. It was unhurried and your mouths moved against one another with no frantic movement to go any further.

The head of his cock had slipped in once, both of you groaning as your back arched and his head fell against your shoulder when he felt how you squeezed him, but then he slipped out and kissed down your body until he was settled between your legs.

Neither of you were sure how long it had been since you had first stumbled into the room, long enough for your skin to be sticky with sweat and Frankie’s curls sticking to his damp forehead, but neither of you cared. Neither of you had begged or asked for more than the other was giving, patient and content just being here and with each other; learning exactly what makes the other moan and gasp.

Frankie had long since forgotten his nerves of worrying you would want - or need - more from him, but as he ran one gentle hand down your stomach while dragging his tongue up the crease between your thigh and he moaned at the taste of your salty skin he watched your whole body shake.

It made his whole body stop as his eyes darted around to watch every reaction you gave him. Your body shivering from where his fingers had touched you all the way to the tips of your toes and fingers, your head rolling to the side as your hand came to grip his hair, and when you opened your eyes you almost looked apologetic from how hard you had dug into his curls.

He didn’t give you a chance to apologize unnecessarily as he finally dipped his tongue between your folds, the both of your groans filling the room as he licked up slowly to your clit.

He memorized every little thing that you liked, that made your body tense up and your chest heave from trying to catch your breath. He watched as he slipped one finger inside, then another, how your hand slid slowly up your tummy until you started teasing your own nipples.

That sight had made Frankie’s eyes roll back and he reached his other hand up to copy your movements on the other.

Again, nothing about this was hurried. It was nothing like either of you had experienced before.

Usually Frankie had someone urging him on, already reaching into the drawer to pull out a condom as if to say “let’s get to the main bit” and, honestly, you were used to urging the other person on, but there was something different about this.

You weren’t thinking about the crash of pleasure that would come or the feeling of emptiness that follows as you reach for his cock; all you could think about was how good this feels right now.

It was a slow build-up, one that was now weighing in the pit of your belly and ready to explode any second, but you never begged or forced your body to get there quicker - you kept your eyes open, looking into Frankie’s as he curled his fingers just right and sucked hard enough on your clit to push you over the edge.

You made yourself keep your eyes locked on his for as long as you could before your head fell back against the pillow, his name leaving your lips in loud moans as he groaned against you.

Even now there was no rushing, his mouth and fingers coaxed the very last of your orgasm from you before he crawled up your body, kissing and licking your skin until his mouth finally reached yours and only then did he reach inside his drawer and roll the condom over his cock.

Your legs lazily wrapped around his waist and his hand had laid on your hip as he slipped inside, both of you watching as you swallowed every last inch of him until your eyes were rolling and his body was shaking.

Your hands continued exploring each other’s bodies as his mouth stayed pressed to yours, every moan and gasp swallowed by the other until you were both coming again and he finally broke away to moan your name, his careful and gentle resolve almost crashing around him as he bit the skin where your shoulder and neck met and whined.

He stayed like that as you both came down, your hands stroking up and down his back until he rolled onto his back and pulled you into his chest.

He almost began to worry again as his breathing settled and he thought of what he should say.

That was amazing, great, wow, the most perfect sex he had ever had? Because it was all true but what would sound the best and-

Your fingers caught his chin, tilting his head down to where you were still laying on his chest, and you smiled.

And he smiled back.

tags

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09 @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted–ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride @lowlights @notabotiswear @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @bport76 @fangirl-316 @1andthesame @pedrostories @nyfeeer @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thereisaplaceintheheart @graciexmarvel @trickstersp8 @dreamiesunny @oogaboogasphincter @mstgsmy @dobbyjen @agingerindenial @mishasminion360 @blub-senpai @mashomasho @adriiibell @darnitdraco @dragonsondragons @mysteriouslyfuzzypeach @ayrusss @lovesbiggerthanpride @girlofchaos @dinsangelx @hallway5 @fictionismyrealityy @stardust-galaxies @joelsflannel @buckybarneshairpullingkink @llilithmademedoit @kirsteng42 @mandos-riduur-reading @dins-cyare @Magickfanatic @gallowsjoker

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x y/n #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales

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milkymoon2483 · 1 year

Text

Tension | episode 3 - Occupational hazard

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Francisco Morales x female reader

WC: ~6300

Summary: Frankie doesn’t call or text, until he has a back issue again that is. You're a little mad, and he finds a way to apologize.

Disclaimer: Same as the last time basically; I’m not a massage therapist. The thoughts and actions described in this one are, as the title says, unprofessional. I do not mean to sexualize the job massage therapists do. I only mean to oil Frankie up in order to eventually serve you all with some deep-fried filthy smut, like you deserve. *There are edible massage oils. Google says so. *Assume they had the whole ‘are you clean? Are you on the pill?’ convo off-screen.

Rating: E. MINORS DNI. 18+

Warnings: SMUT with all capitals. This is porn ma'am. Unprotected P in V, Oral (F receiving), fingering, and a bunch of other goodies.

Occupational hazard

Text her pendejo, just pick up your fucking phone and text. You’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Just be done with it. What’s the worst that can happen? She thinks you're a creep and she will politely ignore you or tell you to find someone else. Just stop torturing yourself and text the girl.

Frankie repeated the conversation he has been having with himself a few times a day for the past week. A sharp pang hit his gut every time you crossed his mind, he began feeling almost guilty, but then again, maybe you weren’t expecting him to text at all. The bouts of self doubt came and went, where he’d be feeling confident and sure of himself one day, he would somehow manage to convince himself that he had no basis for that feeling the very next.

Why would a sweet, funny, pretty girl like you would actually want him? What business did you have getting involved with someone this damaged? He didn’t want to seem like an over- eager old creep. The thought paralyzed him, made him disregard any notion of you reciprocating his feelings.

When Joel called asking to borrow Frankie’s truck to move his notoriously heavy couch, he found himself insisting on helping him with the move. The nine foot brown leather monstrosity was being shipped off to the junkyard, to the great delight of Joel’s wife, Melissa. She was ecstatic at the thought of finally replacing it, after thirteen years.

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to regret them. “Joel stop being an ass and let me help you, your back is fucked up and Mel will kill you if you try to do it by yourself”

Frankie was making a good enough point for Joel to reluctantly agree, with the promise of feeding him some lunch when they were done. Melissa was more than happy to cook for whomever got “Jabba the couch” out of her house.

The drizzle intensified as Frankie was driving, he hated the rain with a passion and it filled him with a sense of unease, like it was somehow attacking him personally. He knew however that this had to be done, and it had to be done today, since the new couch was arriving later that afternoon.

Suddenly the thought of you crossed his mind, the inviting treatment room, dimly-lit and smelling of fresh laundry and essential oils. Your warm deft hands on him, the sweetness of your voice and your smile. It filled him with comforting warmth, maybe texting you wasn’t such a far fetched idea after all. He didn’t let his mind wander further to the swell of your ass and the way that your top seemed to cling to your perfect breasts, otherwise he would be arriving at Joel's with a raging boner.

45 minutes after they started, the men were finally able to get the couch out of the front door. Both were already panting and sweaty and they still had a long way to go. Thankfully the rain subsided and they were able to load it onto the truck faster than anticipated.

“So… how do you like your new massage therapist?” Joel asked with a knowing smile.

“She’s, yeah…she’s great, really helped me” Frankie replied, hanging onto some last modicum of discretion.

“She did now, didn’t she?” Joel cocked his eyebrows.

“Fuck off man, she gave me a massage. Yeah it was really good” Frankie scoffed. He’d say you’re also funny and charming and hot. But he already saw the shit eating grin spread on Joel’s face.

When the truck backed into the junk yard Frankie already noticed the dire state of the muddy ground, that was sure to make their job harder.

The rain picked up again, soaking into their clothes as they attempted to unload the brown behemoth. They pushed it slowly out of the back of the truck, attempting to support its weight as much as possible. The couch was hanging by a thread, half of it still on the truck and the other half held by both men. That was when Joel’s boot slipped. He laid his weight on the couch in an attempt to brace himself, causing it to topple over the edge. Frankie’s instinct to try and stop it from falling over was clearly misguided as he felt a muscle in his back pull, before he leaped backwards, landing flat on his ass in the mud.

The hysterical laughter that ensued was inevitable, and ensured Frankie and Joel that they both were fine.

An hour and a half after they departed both men strolled into Melissa’s aptly named mud-room, soaking and filthy. Frankie can sure pull this look off. She thought to herself as she took their sight in, immediately bursting into laughter herself.

“My heroes! Looks like Jabba put up a fight. Let’s get you cleaned and fed” she chimed.

*******

Another day passed without any messages from Frankie, you were past feeling disappointed, veering into the indifferent zone. You were still mad at yourself though, waiting for him to throw you a bone like some kind of hookup that never bothered texting after the fact. How pathetic.

You understood that there were some things that were not supposed to come into fruition. You didn’t really know him, there could have been a thousand different reasons for him not to reach out. The sting of unfulfilled potential was bound to wear off eventually.

You were sprawled on the couch after a particularly long day, watching Brooklyn nine-nine for the umpteenth time, still in your work clothes, minus the bra.

The soft *ping* of your phone went unnoticed.

It was three AM when you woke up, delirious and confused, you were greeted with the “are you still watching?” Netflix message. It took a while to register exactly where you are and how you fell asleep. You threw yourself on the bed, vowing to shower in the morning, when your hand landed on your phone that laid discarded on your comforter.

You picked it up to check the time, but your eyes went straight to the notification instead. You blinked twice just to make sure you were not imagining this.

Hey there. How are you?I wanted to ask if you have any appointments available soon, I think I pulled a muscle.ThanksFrancisco.

Really??!

“Hi there”..?! “I pulled a muscle”?!You repeated his message out loud with the most mocking tone you could muster.

You put your phone down, realizing quickly that a three AM response would probably be ill-advised. You could fume about this for a few hours and respond when you were calmer, and in a more reasonable hour.

I’m ok, thank you. Thursday 18:00.

It took you four hours to come up with this.

You hit the send button and quickly tossed your phone aside, with every intention of ignoring it for at least four hours more.

********

Great, see you then.

He replied back nervously. Is she pissed?

Frankie was talented and accomplished in many fields, texting however, wasn't his forte. He debated whether or not to ask anyone about this, opting to share with Melissa.

After a brief retelling of what happened between you, she concluded with confidence;

"Oh, she's definitely pissed."

"But Mel, What the hell did I do?" He was confused. He had a general feeling, that maybe the flirtation was a bit too much and it creeped you out, maybe you were only treating him because he's friends with Joel, and that you want to keep it professional moving forward.

Melissa however had an entirely different explanation.

"Francisco, sweetie, that's not it. It's what you didn't do. God how do you men even function, when every non-technical detail needs to be explained to you?!"

"Huh?" Was his only response.

"You have a degree in aviation and can do advanced math in your head, but this is beyond your comprehension?"

The face she made was truly bewildered.

"You flirted her face off, gave her a kiss on the cheek, made it purposefully 'hot' as you admitted yourself, and then, you did nothing. Not a call or a text. Just silence"

"Oh" it seemed so painfully obvious when she explained it that way.

"And then, after more than a week passed, you asked to schedule what is essentially a work appointment for her"

"Oh..fuck" Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face in embarrassment.

"Yeah, fuck indeed, no wonder she's pissed. Shit men are dumb."

Frankie nodded. Yeah we are.

*******

17:23 the clock glowed. Your five pm canceled, causing the time to crawl even slower, each second stretched like a piece of old gum, now that you had nothing better to do than sit and wait for him.

You plucked your eyebrows and picked at your nails and even watered your lone plant, the one that managed to survive. You named it Harry, the fern who lived.

17:34 You proceeded to eat a banana, then a cookie, then brushed your teeth because said cookie left a strange taste in your mouth. A part of you wished he'd cancel too. The affect of him has worn off, but you knew that the moment he walks in it will undoubtedly return with a vengeance, punching you harder, hitting you faster.

17:48 You checked yourself in the mirror, for the eleventh time. You were mad, but you were not about to let him catch you looking like crap. Push up bra was back on. And perhaps a tiny bit of tinted lip balm, and maybe some strategically placed perfume.

17:57 *Ding Dong*

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the doorbell. You stopped yourself for a moment, closing your eyes and repeating your mantra. He’s just a client.

The motherfucker was wearing a sweater. How dare he.

The thin-knit forest green material hugged him perfectly, extenuating the broadness of his shoulders and the soft definition of his pecks. The white t-shirt peeking from the collar was the final straw, pulling your eyes onto his long neck, bringing out the sun-kissed hue of his skin.

“Hey” He smiled softly, turning his eyes to the floor as he walked in.

“Hi” you replied simply, dryly. Stretching a polite fake smile on your face, trying to ignore how goddamn infuriatingly good he looked. Sweaters were your personal kryptonite.

He’s just a client.

The air was tense when you walked into the treatment room. Frankie’s gut was in knots as you kept quiet, not letting any pleasantries slip past your lips. He understood now that the ball was in his court, Mel made that perfectly clear.

“Can we talk for a moment?” He asked hesitantly.

”Is it treatment-related?” you replied, as calmly as possible.

“Well..I don’t think it is” He took a deep breath before he continued.

“See, I meant to text you but I didn’t want you to think..”

“Frankie, I think it’s best if we talk after.” You stopped him mid sentence. You assumed you knew what this was about, but letting him stew for a bit seemed like a good idea. Maybe your hands on him would help jog his memory as to why he needed to apologize in the first place.

Truth be told, you were afraid that no matter what he said you would not be able to continue after that, so you asked him to wait, not to change anything between the two of you just yet.

“Yeah, we can do that” he replied. Unsure of himself.

“Now, can you tell me which muscle you think you pulled?” This was your attempt to pull on the “therapist” mask, to resume your role as the clinical professional.

“It’s right around here” he pointed to his mid-lower back. You assumed it’s around the T12 vertebrae.

“What happened?” You asked, genuinely curious as to the reason he finally contacted you.

“I helped Joel move a couch to the junkyard and landed on my ass in the mud”

“Ouch” You chuckled at his response. Serves you right.It was damn near impossible to stay mad at him.

Your hands slipped under his sweater as you prodded him through the soft cotton of his tee. It felt so intimate, so incredibly personal, even more than when your oiled palms glided all over his skin. He could feel the ghost of your breath at the back of his neck as you leaned a little closer and it made his skin prickle, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

You could smell him, inhaling deeply the soft clean scent of his soap. You bit your tongue, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him, to cling to his warmth. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

As he was getting ready, you stared at the door of the treatment room. You couldn't help but imagine him pulling off his sweater and tee with one swift motion, revealing his bare chest, the muscles of his back rippling under his skin, the long arms pulling the fabric, the way his hair would bounce. Every single detail you could think of seemed to spur you on, causing the heat to pull between your thighs.

He’s just a client.

Gone was the indulgent want for you to touch him, it was replaced with a desperate need. A low huff left his lips as soon as your hands were on him. Finally However he might have wronged you, your touch felt like forgiveness, a soothing balm on his nerves.

Why did he wait so fucking long? What the hell was stopping him? Was it wrong for him to want this for himself? Was he truly so far beyond redemption that he didn’t even deserve this? The thoughts that swirled in his mind began to quiet one by one, brushed off by the slide of your hands, melted by the drizzle of hot oil.

“I’m going to warm you up before we take care of that knot” you stated, granting him another delicious slide up his back. You relished every centimeter of skin at your fingertips.

“Mhmmm” he purred back. God I missed that sound.

He shuddered with excitement as he felt the bed dip beneath you. You climbed on and settled on his left. You began pressing into his muscle but the angle wasn’t right, you needed to change the position.

The gentle tap on his thigh encouraged him to spread his legs as you rolled the sheet back off his left leg. He was confused but followed along, he would comply with anything you’d ask of him. He swallowed thickly as he felt your knee between his thighs.

Now your thumbs rolled into his aching muscle again and again, the knot was easy to find and each swipe of your hands hit it accurately. You could see his face contorted with pain, and you knew it would hurt, he tensed up and grunted as the pads of your fingers dug deeper into him, unwavering ,circling the painful spot over and over again.

“I know it’s painful” you said quietly, attempting to assure him that it will not be long now.

“No good deed goes unpunished” he replied with a slight chuckle that made you smile.

The truth was, he was thankful for the pain, the only thing distracting him from the heavenly heat emanating from your core. He could feel it on his leg and it took everything in his power not to imagine you riding his thigh. The heat crept up his groin slowly, clawing towards his cock, unstoppable and unrelenting. He was afraid that a moment would arrive when the pain was not enough.

If he only knew.. if he had any idea… You counted his vertebrae and listed the latin names of his back muscles one by one. Trapezius, Deltoid, Teres Major, Latissimus Dorsi…Desperate attempts to think about anything other than the warmth radiating off him, the graze of his thigh against yours.

The knot was almost gone now and you slid the heels of your palms on both sides of his spine one last time.

"Ow!" he yelped. “I think…when you slide your hands like that, I think some pain is radiating..lower?” He didn’t quite know how to explain the sharp pang in his right butt cheek.

“That’s quite possible actually, that you have some other knot we missed and it can definitely radiate onto your glutes. Can I check?”

“Is that your professional way to ask me for permission to touch my butt?”

“Guilty as charged. It also happens to be the largest muscle in the body… so I have a perfectly good excuse”

“Well, I’m at your mercy, as usual” He turned his head backwards as much as possible and smiled his soft signature smile, banishing any traces of anger or annoyance you might have been holding on to.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” You smiled back now. His heart felt lighter at the sound of your voice.

“I’ll repeat the motion and you tell me exactly where you feel the pain”

You slid your hands again and watched his face scrunch up. He pointed his hand on his right buttock.

“I’m going to have to tuck those a bit higher” you pulled at his boxers gently.

“Mhm” he nodded and swallowed thickly. This might be a problem. Shit.

Gently but efficiently you rolled his boxers up, exposing a soft little butt cheek. Tiny pale stretch marks ran across its side. You tried not to stare, but looking at it was a part of the job.

Such a sweet little ass. Was all you could think of as you ran oiled up fingers up his thigh and onto the tight muscle.

Frankie took deeper breaths now. Doing everything in his power not to clench at your touch.

For a moment he felt a relief as you now focused on his butt cheek and dug your fingers deeper into the painful spot, but then you added oil onto your hands. And then you began sliding down his hip in a smooth inward motion. Tips of your fingers brushing so closely to his inner thigh. Again. And again. And again. Blood rushed towards his cock with every swipe. So close, your hand was so fucking close.

Shit. SHIT. No no no…shit please not now. He knew this could happen, at some point it was bound to happen, but this was really fucking bad timing.

He was gone now, no force in nature could stop the tightening in his abdomen and the painful hardness of his cock, which was now pressed fully into the mattress.

It twitched with every swipe of your hands, as the tension in his lower stomach grew, as he attempted to fight the consuming urge to rut his erection against the bed and find some relief. Waves of shame and arousal crashed into him one after the other, as his mind desperately scrambled for a way to explain or excuse himself.

You progressed down Frankie’s leg, and you felt him tense up, his breaths shorter and quicker. You could say you were oblivious to the situation, but something inside you knew, or at least suspected, that he might be having that kind of a reaction. Because something inside you knew that your touch was too purposeful to begin with. You couldn’t say which little demon encouraged your fingers to softly brush against the most sensitive parts they could reach, but the mere thought of him growing harder from your touch made you feral.

What felt like history’s longest fucking foreplay, had you both on the very last edge.

“Turn around please” You used the calmest tone you could pull from your mouth.

Too distracted by the dirtiest thoughts on one hand, and the attempts to calm himself down on the other, Frankie was startled by your request.

FUCK.

“ummm…I…ummmm…” He did not know how to approach this.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, noticing his apprehension.

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just..umm..fuck” Frankie leaned on his forearms and gave you the most apologetic look, before glancing downwards, pointing to the source of the issue as discreetly as possible.

“Oh..” the message sank in as you gave him an understanding nod.

“Yeah… I’m sorry” That’s it, she’s gonna kick me out, fuck.

“Frankie, it’s ok, really, it’s totally fine, it’s natural, nothing to apologize for” You attempted to reassure him.

“I just, I really don’t want you to think that I’m a creep. You’re just so good..your hands are so amazing..I really didn’t mean for this to happen, do you…do you want me to go? I can go..” He rambled as his face turned bright red.

“I don’t want you to go, and I don’t think you're a creep Frankie. Quite the opposite. I thought that was obvious” Guess we are doing this now. Oh well.

“Really…What’s the opposite of creep?” He smirked, amused all of a sudden.

“Well…tall, sexy, and a little smug, apparently.” Your heart pounded in your throat as you smirked right back at him.

He chuckled, too pleased with your response to have a quick comeback.

“Turn around Frankie.” Your voice was calmer, more commanding now. “Ok” Frankie swallowed thickly and turned to lay on his back, still leaning on his forearms. The sheet covering him pulled to the side, revealing the unmistakable tent in his boxers.

You tore your eyes away after only a split second, but it was just enough time to see it. Well happy birthday and Merry Christmas to me. The sheer size of him was blatantly visible even through the thin dark material.

Looking in his eyes was far more challenging, you moved closer to him as he pulled himself up to sit on the bed and face you. You felt your blood drain from your face, pulled towards your stomach, laced with equal parts anxiety and arousal.

You stood closer now, almost between his legs, and you laid a careful hand on his chest.

“Do you..do you want to stop?” you asked, averting your eyes from his.

“Fuck no.” he responded, smiling softly “Thought that was obvious”

You smiled back, lifting your eyes at him, meeting his warm gaze.

Keeping his eyes on you, he took both of your hands in his, laying soft gentle kisses on your palms, brushing your fingers against his lips, reverently worshiping the hands that brought him so much pleasure and relief. You could not look away now, as he laid a tender kiss on each knuckle. It was the hottest, most sensual thing you have ever witnessed. His kisses flowed gently up your arm, pulling you closer towards him, until your faces were inches apart. You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, as he cradled your face in his large palm.

"C'mere" he whispered, leaning in and finally pressing his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, warm, pliant and sweet. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, swiping his warm tongue into your mouth. His kiss was deep but unhurried, allowing him to taste you properly. Frankie saw no need to rush this, he wanted to enjoy every second and every inch of your body.

You carded your fingers through the soft waves on the nape of his neck and pulled even closer, flushed against his bare chest.

His arms brushed your sides, fingers reaching under the soft fabric of your tee, hot against your skin, asking for permission. You nodded, not breaking the kiss, as he slowly rolled it up and pulled it off.

Large arms engulfed you fully, pressing you against him, running along your back, to the swell of your ass, and back up towards your neck, like he could not touch you enough.

Frankie pulled the bra straps off your shoulders one by one, relishing the opportunity to undress you slowly, leisurely. He unclasped the back with one deft hand.

“Impressive” you teased

“Beginners luck” he chuckled back, resuming the open mouthed kisses on your neck, cupping your right breast in his hand, enjoying the softness, the weight of it.

When you climbed on the bed, he laid you on your back. You weren't used to this position, could not remember an instance when you were the one laying down.

“Are we really…doing this? I mean, is this ok with you?” Laying on top of you might have not been the best timing for the question, but he needed to make sure.

“Eh…it’s an occupational hazard” You shrugged, before bursting into a giggle.

"What is?" His brows furrowed for a moment, and he looked too adorable not to kiss.

"That thing you've got there…" you cocked your brows, lowering your gaze.

"I'll take that as a compliment" he chuckled. He'd take his cock over a six pack any day.

"You should"

"I will"

"Good"

“Yes, Frankie, this is very ok with me” you said softly, tucking loose waves away from his forehead before pulling his mouth back to yours.

Frankies lips traveled down, he took one pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around , a perfect mixture of hot and cold, soft and hard.

"This is so fucking ok with me” you mumbled, grinding your clothed pussy on his thigh. You could feel him painfully hard, pressed against you, as you cupped him through his boxers. It felt even bigger than before, and the thought of him opening you up and stretching you out sent a sweet wave of anticipation straight to your core.

"I wanna take care of you, please?" He asked softly.

"Please", you said, practically begging him to touch you.

"Can I…use the oil?" he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your side, pressing soft kisses to your neck and down the slope of your shoulder.

"Sure…it's almond oil” you nodded, pleased beyond belief that this man took all of 5 minutes to figure you out.

It was so intimate, perhaps too intimate, but you trusted Frankie, something about him put you at ease. You knew his body and now it seemed fitting for him to get to know yours in the same way.

He lifted himself up, caging your legs between his knees and gently pulled on the elastic of your pants, as you lifted your pelvis to allow him to slide them down your legs. He reached for the oil on the stand next to the bed. The hot liquid pooled in his hands and he rubbed them together. He laid his large warm palms on your thighs, sliding them downwards, rubbing the soft flesh and spreading the oil, then moving back upwards from your knees to your hips. Frankie was mesmerized by the glow of the slick on your skin. He repeated the motion, more confident now, earning himself a sweet purr from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” he asked hesitantly, requiring a little more encouragement.

“mhm…Yes…” You answered, breathless.

His hands slid back up, tips of his fingers reaching under the hem of your panties, as you flooded with arousal and anticipation. He repeated the motion again, this time brushing his thumbs closer to your inner thighs. A soft little moan left your lips, making him smirk. He continued sliding his hands down and back up, getting closer and closer to your core. Your thighs clenched together and hips bucked slightly, begging for his touch where you needed him most. But Frankie was enjoying himself far too much, at last he was the one doing the teasing and you were the one writhing at his touch.

He ran a careful thumb on your clothed pussy, testing the waters. He kept his eyes on your face, making sure you were comfortable. The slacked jaw, heavy panting and white knuckles from grabbing at the sheet beneath you told him everything he needed to know.

He kept circling your clit above your panties, watching them get progressively more and more soaked. “This is where you want me?..hmmm?” he teased while his fingers ran along your slit, making you impossibly wetter and needier.

“Fuck, Frankie!” you whined.

He chuckled at your impatience.

His hands ran up your inner thighs again, taunting you with every inch of progress towards your throbbing cunt, he brushed the tips of his fingers under the band of your panties “Can I take these off?”

You lifted your hips and allowed him to slide the soaked fabric down your legs.

You laid exposed before him. "Fuck your'e beautiful" he whispered.

He added more oil, before sliding his palms from your breasts, down your belly and onto your thighs again. His hands traveled back up, unable to stop himself from relishing in the addictively soft texture of your body at his fingertips. He spread the oil further, circling your nipples, then brushing along your ribs, down the dip of your belly button, and back up to your clavicles. He marveled at your smooth skin, shiny and golden under the dim lights.

"Spread your legs for me baby” he rasped, you obliged immediately

“Good girl"

With the gentlest touch, he ran two thumbs on the sensitive lips of your cunt, spreading your glistening folds. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

He oiled his hands again, letting it drip from the tips of his fingers onto your pussy. You shuddered at the sensation of each drop. He gently spread the oil between your folds, mixing it with your arousal. His index prodded your entrance before sliding inside, slowly pumping in and out of your tight wet heat.

Mesmerized, Frankie lowered himself to lay between your legs, and licked a thick stripe up your slit. "Pretty pretty pussy" he murmured, circling your clit with his tongue, then dipping it into your hole, drinking you up.

You couldn't tell exactly what Frankie was doing, but the limited amount of times men have gone down on you, it never felt like this, not even close. Arousal and heat bloomed between your thighs, spreading along your belly, crawling up your limbs and down the tips of your toes. He seemed to be speaking directly to your core, whispering soft nothings, making the filthiest promises and coaxing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your hands laced into his hair, fingers gently tugging at the roots while he ate you out like you were his last meal. There was a generosity to his movements, like he could happily spend a day between your legs. Your hips bucked at him, asking for more. "You need another finger baby? To get you ready to take my cock?" All you could do is moan louder. The filth this man spoke so freely drove you insane.

Frankie added his middle finger, sliding it in with ease as you were dripping on his knuckles. The coil in your belly tightened, with each swipe of his tongue on your clit, Frankie could feel you drawing close. He purred, alternating between licking and sucking gently at the perfect spot just under your clit, pushing you over the edge of a cliff into a pool of pleasure. Your body convulsed as you squeezed him tightly between your thighs, he could feel the flutter of your walls on his fingers, and the wave of slick that poured out of you into his awaiting mouth. "Yes baby, yes, give it to me, taste so fucking good" he muttred, drinking everything you could give him.

After you came down from your high Frankie kissed his way up to your lips, the lust drunk look in your eyes told him what you could not.

“Wow” when you finally spoke, that was all you could manage.

“Are you ok? Do you wanna stop?” He asked, softly brushing away loose strands that stuck to your forehead.

You tsked, shaking your head slowly, and proceeded to whisper in his ear “I want you to fuck me Frankie" peppering kisses on his earlobe and behind his ear. Goosebumps erupted across his skin and ran down his back. His cock twitched at the sensation.

“Fuck baby, your’e gonna kill me”

"Since you've already killed me, it only seems fair"

"Well, how can I argue with a pretty girl asking to be fucked so sweetly?

"You better don't"

"Wouldn't dream of it"

You pulled him closer again, kissing him lazily through your post orgasm haze, sneaking a curious finger through the hemline of his boxers. Frankie's breath hitched as he felt you swipe his sensitive tip, leaking with precum and screaming for relief. You tugged on the band, encouraging him to take the fabric off.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Heavy and thick and perfectly veiny. It was your turn to reach for the oil, bringing your loaded palm to his throbbing length. You stroked lazily at first, as Frankie mumbled curses and prayers, not taking his eyes off your hand wrapped around him, spreading the warm oil all over his shaft, gently running your thumb on the tip. The smooth delicious glide of your oiled hand felt better than he could imagine, drawing him impossibly closer to his release with every stroke.

"Fuck..as much as I thought about this, if you dont stop, I'm gonna cum"

"Really? You thought about this..?"

"Mhm…I also thought about other things"

"Such as?" You asked teasingly, pulling him to lay in between your legs.

"Such as this.." he rasped, notching himself at your entrance.

You canted your hips at the sensation. He sank into your heat with a groan, slowly pushing himself to the hilt. The delicious stretch made your walls flutter. "shit Frankie, move, please" you begged, whimpering with need.

Your legs locked on his back as he began to slowly buck his hips, gently opening you up on his girth. For all his mass and strength he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed the column of your neck, nibbling at your chin, before your mouths latched onto each other, breathing each other's air. Frankie’s pace picked up slightly. “Uh…uh…fuck!” you moaned with each thrust, the coil in your belly tightening. You could hear the obscene squelch of your slick each time he pounded into you. Frankie lifted himself up slightly, eyes entranced and black with lust as he watched his glistening cock slide in between your puffy folds, spurring him to go harder and deeper still.

He hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you up with surprising ease. You straddled his hips, leaning back on one arm to balance yourself, gripping into his shoulder with the other.

He began fucking into you faster, and your hips moved to meet his with every stroke, the angle making his length hit impossibly deep within you. Your bodies moved in sync, shiny with sweat and oil. "Good girl, use my cock, take what you need" He muttered as he felt you approaching your release. You climbed higher and higher, your cunt gripping onto his cock like a vice, until one final stroke pushed you off, made you soar. Pleasure searing through every cell, pouring into every crevice, exploding in thousands of tiny bursts.

Frankie felt your release pulsating on his cock, he fucked into you as deep as he could, gripping your hips with bruising strength, roaring as he flooded your core with ropes of his hot spend.

Frankie collapsed on top of you with a groan, chest heaving, mind blown. Both of you too fucked out and spent to speak, breathing heavily in a synchronized pace.

He nuzzled into your cheek, kissing across your face, until he reached your nose and placed a peck on the tip, before reaching your lips again.

You exchanged lazy kisses, nibbling and licking into each other’s mouths, slowly coming down from your respective highs.

“Holy fuck” you rasped

“Yeah, holy fuck indeed” Frankie replied with a coarse voice.

“No, I mean, holy fuck this bed is sturdy. I never tested it like that before” You teased. “Also, you blew my brains out, can I make you some tea as a show of my appreciation?”

“Only if you give me one of your sex mugs to drink it from” Frankie chuckled back.

“Sure, I’ll even throw in some cookies to sweeten the deal”

*******

You stood in the kitchen, the dim glow of the pendant light above the counter illuminating your bodies, nude and barefoot, still emanating heat from your previous activities. Frankie snuck an arm around your waist as you poured the boiling water into the mug.

It felt strangely familiar, his warmth engulfing your senses, you could get used to this.

You welcomed the gesture, brushing away the notion that it felt too intimate, too good to be true. You’d never let him know, with your quick wit and your casual demeanor, how nervous you truly were, because this was something special.

Just enjoy it, this, him.

As if he sensed your post-coital nervousness, Frankie asked sheepishly. “So..I've been meaning to ask you, before the…um…crazy sex. Can I maybe take you out to dinner?”

“I’ll think about it” You chuckled with relief, setting the freshly made cup of tea in front of him.

Frankie looked at it slightly confused, it had a picture of an Excel spreadsheet with the green logo on it. After a few seconds he began to laugh, “Freak in the sheets” was written in black across the bottom.

“I’ll take it as a compliment” he smiled at you, that sweet soft smile with the creases around his eyes and the dimple you could not resist.

“You should” you giggled back.

“I will”

“Good”

FIN.

Thank you so much, I also tagged anyone who reblogged part#2, hope it’s ok with you. You will not be automatically tagged in future fics unless you ask me to.

@romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @astroboots @welcometostayingawake @damnyoupedro @kirsteng42 @boysddontcry @miraclesabound @jump-over-my-fence @wildemaven

#massage #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales/reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #smut fic

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grogusmum · 1 year

Text

Let It SQUALL ❄️

This is part if the @pedrostories Secret Santa gift exchange 2022.

For: @something-tofightfor

With love: Hazel

Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

W/C:1400

RATED: T

You go to a tree farm to get your Christmas Tree and get a little help from Frankie.

It's your first Christmas alone, but you are determined to enjoy personal traditions built over a decade. This includes cutting your own tree...

So here you are, pulling into the tree farm's hardpan parking lot, hoping your hatchback isn't too small to bring one home. You remind yourself that it will be fine so long as you get a small tree as you get out of the car and grab your bow saw.

It really is a perfect day for it, snow on the ground from last night and some flurries swirling… you are bundled up in your favorite sweater with a scarf, gloves and good boots as you make your way to the field.

Holiday music floats over the parking lot and in the warming house, the smell of wood smoke and hot chocolate fill you with nostalgia.

A sweet faced dog with large pointy ears lopes by, you smile and your eyes can't help following. It's a dog, okay? The dog stops, tail wagging at a guy, you assume is his owner. He's comfortably handsome with soft brown eyes, a mustache and patchy scruff on his chin and cheeks. Layered a thermal shirt, button down flannel, and quilted barn coat, his head topped with a trucker cap with the tree farm logo on it. You note his coat has a patch with Frankie embroidered on it.

He gives you a crooked smile that displays a singular dimple. You give a small smile back and then continue your trek to the grove of trees, your face heats a little at being caught staring.

The music fades being replaced by the crunch of your foot falls and the aroma of pine and snow overtakes the smells from the farm yard.

You meander through the trees unhurried, passing the noble firs, gorgeous but expensive, best not to fall in love with one. Next the Douglases, then the Frasers… at the Balsams you turn into the rows, surrounding yourself in their scent. You take a moment to steep in it.

“I like the balsams too, humble, beautiful and the amazing smell lasts,” says a soft voice behind you.

“I love them,” you say, you had heard a second set of boots in the snow, turning to see that the friendly voice is coming from Frankie, the tree farm guy. “I just wish they held their needles a bit better.”

“Yeah, there’s always a catch,” he chuckles.

“There really always is isn't there," you smile.

“So, I followed you to see if I could help. Usually we get people out here in pairs or families…” Frankie trails off, not wanted to overstep. His hand comes up to the back of his neck, it is sweetly shy.

“Oh,” you say, have this broad, soft eyed tree farmer help? Pssh “That would be great!”

His smile lights up and you know you are in trouble!

As you and Frankie walk the lines of trees, you tell him you usually get a tall tree, your place, while not very big, has high ceilings, but now you only have a small hatchback to bring it home, so you need to stick with a 5 footer.

“Deciding which ornaments to leave in the boxes, that will be hard” you say with a sigh.

You walk in companionable silence for a few beats.

“Are you far?”

“No actually, I’m above the used bookstore right off Main,” you say absently as you walk around a small tree, scrutinizing it.

"I can," Frankie clears his throat, "I could bring- we offer delivery."

It takes a moment for you.

"Really?" You beam, then your face falls, "mmm, thank you butI really can't afford a bigger tree and delivery- "

"Delivery, under 5 miles, is free," Frankie confirms with more confidence. Though you get the feeling he just did that math. It's your turn to give a lopsided smile, as you thank him and move away from the small tree and head for the more mature ones.

You choose a narrow eight foot tree, Frankie makes quick work of falling it for you and drags it behind him as you make small talk. The temperature dropping as the day progresses and you begin to shiver.

"Cold?"

"Yeah, I didn't think it was supposed to drop like this, also thought I was going to be keeping myself warm with taking the tree down myself." Then you quickly add with a grin, "not I'm complaining. Thank you again."

"Well let's get you a hot drink and warm you up!"

At the warming house, you loosen your scarf and open up you coat. Frankie is aglow, ruddy cheeks from the chill and exertion as he hangs his coat up and adds a log to the woodstove. He smiles at a couple of the crew taking a break from the cold as he picks up two mugs-

"We got coffee, tea, hot chocolate and hot cider"

"Oh, um… I'll take the cider!"

Frankie, dimple showing, brings the two piping hot mugs over. You take the mug with both hands grazing his, murmuring your thanks.

After a sip-

"I love this space, and the woodcut ornaments… so, is this a family business?"

"Sorta, found family I guess." He says, "my buddies and I bought it, sort of defunked at the time…"

You continue to look everywhere but him-

"Nice"

Frankie on the other hand can't take his eyes off of you, "yeah."

Finally, you look over your steaming mug at him, "yeah."

You were kicking yourself internally for being so awkward. Why? Why must you be this way?

Then a bunch of phone notifications chime at once, you look at yours as several others do the same, including Frankie.

"Well, we'd better get you and your tree home, there's warning for squalls." Frankie says as everyone starts moving to finish up.

You nod and take another sip of the cider and set it down on the tray table set out for that purpose.

"I'm, um, a little nervous about my car getting it down the hill its not great in the snow…"

"Well, you're not far, how about I drive you in the pickup and you can get your car tomorrow, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow, no problem," Frankie guides you out a hand gently on your lower back. The tree is already in his truck and he takes just a moment to say something to a shorter man with black curls, who looks at you and then back to Frankie. He smiles and Frankie gives him a good natured shove.

With a whistle, his dog hops in the cab as the two of you clamber in.

"Is it okay if my dog joins?"

"Of course," you enthuse, giving the sweetie a scratch behind those big ears.

As with squalls, the snow is suddenly heavy and there are moments when it is white out conditions. You were so glad to not be in your little hatchback, you really needed to get a better car for the winter.

Frankie takes his time and soon enough you are in front of your bookstore, The Dancing Goat.

"Why dancing goat?" He asks looking up at the sign.

"That is an excellent question," you say with a smirk as you climb out of the truck.

You hear him chuckle, then shiver. With the wind the snow is coming down, and sideways, and up.

After the pair of you bring the tree up the stairs to the apartment above, and put the tree in the stand, you walk him back out to the sidewalk, finding the snow is worse.

"Maybe you should come back up, hopefully the squalls will settle in a little bit."

"Yeah, I can bring Raffi in?" Frankie asks, hand on the car door.

"Of course."

As you wait for the kettle, you start putting up the tree lights, Frankie falling very naturally in step with you, helping wind them around the tree. His dog Raffi finds your couch a perfect place to watch you both work, and gets cozy.

The kettle sings just as you finish the lights, so you plug it in with a voilà and you turn down the other lights and rush to get the tea brewing.

The windows with snow swirling outside them perfectly frame your merrily twinkling evergreen. You can't help but sigh and your eyes get bright with holidays past.

As a distraction, you pull out your phone, check the weather once more and then swipe over to your music app, selecting Skating by Vince Girardi and the quiet nostalgia of the Charlie Brown soundtrack.

"I think it might be a while."

"That's alright by me," Frankie says as he plunks down next to his already sleeping dog, he looks up an eyebrow raising and smile widening as he pats the cushion next to him-

"I'm still waiting to hear about the Dancing Goat."

Part 2

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚 AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS

If you enjoyed this, you can find more Frankie and my writng in general on my masterlist and if you would like to be tagged in future work, please go to my taglist form.

#secret santa #frankie morales x you #pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales christmas fic #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader

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