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luxurychristmaspudding · 9 months

Text

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all. until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said.

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled.

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him.

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you.

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out.

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten.

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking.

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other.

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away.

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice.

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out.

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner.

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand.

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks.

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally.

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter.

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there.

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him.

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him.

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street.

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping.

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes.

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down.

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging.

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope.

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name.

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on.

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch.

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim.

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle.

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches.

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot.

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare.

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms.

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach.

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it.

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering -

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead.

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed.

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable.

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put.

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips.

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed.

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question.

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt.

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain.

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp.

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off.

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘Just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock.

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

#pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pickup truck #kings of leon #Spotify #pedro pascal x reader

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Text

Tag-Teaming

Kinktober Day 5: Threesome

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader x Santiago "Pope" Garcia, afab!fem!reader, tag-teaming, unprotected piv (wrap it up gang dont be dumb), fingering and oral (f!recieving), Santi and Frankie both have filthy mouths how dare they (w/c: 1.1K)

A/N: I have been wanting to write a Santi x Frankie x Reader fic for forever okay and kinktober really gave me an excuse, but writing threesomes is so HARD (in more ways than one hehehe) so props to anyone who can write threesomes regularly because it's so difficult. Anyway these two can sandwich me between them anytime (I have been following prompts from this list by @flightlessangelwings!)

It shouldn’t surprise you how good they are together, how well they work. They’re a team. They've always been a team. Why would this be any different?

But fuck, it’s so much different experiencing it, not just seeing it in the field. Frankie plastered against your back, your legs braced over his thighs as he spreads you apart, spreading you so wide for Santiago. Fucking Santi, his cock pressed so deep inside you it’s like you can’t breathe, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips as he breaks you open around him.

“Fuck her harder Pope,” Frankie grumbles, pinching your aching clit between two wonderfully calloused fingers. “Fuck her like you goddamn mean it.” His voice in your ear, his filthy fucking mouth, make your cunt clench around Santi’s cock, and the man groans at both the feeling and Frankie’s command, pounding his cock into you hard.

Frankie rubs furiously at your clit, sending your back arching against his chest, gasping for air. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let yourself fuckin’ feel it. Santi’s cock feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“God, yes, oh my fucking God,” you whine. Santi chuckles, all smugness and delirious pleasure. He rocks into you at an angle that has him jamming into your sweet spot relentlessly. “He feels so fucking good, ‘s so fucking big.”

Santi leans forward again, capturing your lips with his. “You think I’m big, hermosa, I can’t wait to see how you take Frankie’s cock. He’s gonna split you apart, stretch this pussy so fuckin’ wide,” Santi mutters against your mouth.

The thought makes you moan, pressing back against the unmistakable length of Frankie's cock, hard and aching, pressed against your skin. You hear Frankie suck in a labored breath, his fingers pausing on your clit. “You wanna cum, sweetheart?" Santi says, his voice dark with promise. "Get all loose to take Frankie so deep in this little cunt?”

This time, Frankie groans from behind you, deep and rumbling. The sound is intoxicating, especially as his fingers start rubbing at your pussy all over again. An endless mantra of “please, please, please,” escapes from your lips, and Santi growls, fucking into you so hard it makes tears spring to your eyes. You claw at Santi’s back, into Frankie’s forearm, gripping onto them both for dear life.

“C’mon, baby, cum on Santi’s cock, bet you look so pretty when you do. Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around his cock,” Frankie murmurs darkly in your ear. He snakes his other hand up for body, pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. “Don’t you want to see Santi cum, cariño? Won’t he look so pretty?”

A look up at Santi, his curls drenched with sweat, flush high on his cheeks as his hips work between yours, has you nodding furiously at Frankie’s words, and fuck, you’re cumming at the sight of him, of Santi, so beautiful and debauched between your thighs. Your body locks up with it, your pussy clenching around his length still working into you, Frankie holding you tightly to his chest as Santi fucks you through it.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Santi growls, pressing himself as deep into you as he can, his hips twitching as he fills you up. And God, Frankie was right, Santi is beautiful, twitching through his orgasm, jaw clenched and pupils blown wide. He leans forward to kiss you in a way that is fucking filthy, licking into your mouth desperately, swallowing your moans. You breathe together through it, and when you finally stop trembling, Santi pulls away from your mouth with a feral grin.

“Wanna give Fish a turn, baby?” he whispers, and you manage to mumble a yes, even though your brain has been turned to mush. Santi chuckles, the smug bastard, and slips out of you, the emptiness making you whimper.

“I know, bebita, I know,” Santi says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Frankie’s gonna fill you up again, I promise.”

You lift your hips, turning your head to press a kiss to Frankie’s lips as Santi grabs Frankie's cock, pressing the tip to your entrance. Fuck, it’s thick, popping past your entrance as you sink your hips down, down, stretching yourself around him. It seems fucking endless, how deep he reaches into your cunt.

“That’s it, baby, it’s so big, isn’t it?" Santi whispers, "Frankie fills you up so good, yeah? Treats this pretty pussy like it fucking deserves?”

“Santiago.” Frankie growls, his fingers digging into your thighs as you clench around him like a vice at Santi’s words. Fuck, he’s so close already. Watching Pope fuck you already had his cock throbbing beneath you, and now, in the hot clutch of your cunt, he feels like a goddamn virgin. And with Santiago whispering some of the filthiest shit he’s ever heard in his life between the three of you, there’s no way he can last very long.

He’ll make you cum first though. Of course he will.

You nearly scream as Frankie pumps his hips up beneath you, spearing you deep on his cock. He holds tight to your thighs as he pounds furiously in and out of you, ripping you to pieces on top of him. He’s so fucking warm against your back, Santi radiating heat against your front, and you swear to God that you could pass out then and there. Fuck, it’s so good, Frankie’s cock drags against your g-spot with every fucking thrust, unrelenting and utterly debilitating.

And then, Santi lays down on his front, eyes trained on where you and Frankie are connected, and sucks your clit into his hot mouth.

This time, you really do scream, your hands flying down to tangle in Santi’s hair while he licks feverishly at your clit, and you cum, Santi licking between your legs, Frankie pounding up into your cunt. You thrash between them, utterly lost in the feeling of it, hot tears leaking down your cheeks.

“Fuck yes, baby, that’s our good girl,” Frankie groans from behind you.

“Please, please cum Frankie, need you to fucking cum,” you cry, and Frankie has no choice but to follow your orders. He sinks deep inside, biting into your shoulder as he drowns your pussy in his cum. The thought of it mixing with Pope’s inside of you has him shaking through his orgasm.

“God, look at that,” Santi murmurs from between your legs, watching you clench around Frankie so tight he can barely move, cum leaking out around where Frankie is buried deep inside you. His cock twitches at the sight. Later, he thinks, later, we’ll do this again, over and over.

For now, he helps Fish guide you off of his lap, laying you between them. The three of you plaster yourselves against each other, breathing together. A unit, a team.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#i fr need them both right fucking now #santi frankie sandwich <3 #yeah frankie has a massive schlong #frankie x reader x santi #frankie morales x reader x santiago garcia #catfish x reader x pope #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier x you #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

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adrienneleclerc · 28 days

Note

We’re on a world tour (like beyonces renaissance tour) and it’s opening night in London. Charles being with Arthur Pierre and kika and their reaction + them being in the pit. Also, Charles and our oldest daughter coming out to dance on stage like how blue Ivy did with bey. And the grids’ reactions + other celebrities being there for opening night!!!😅❤️

What happened to “hello”? “How are you?” “My name is”? I’m kidding. ANYWAY, sorry it took me so long so I really hope you liked it and I am so sorry if you didn’t. Since you said “oldest daughter”, Charles and Y/N have 3 kids.

World Tour

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Singer! Reader

Summary: Y/N starts her world tour in London and kicks off the tour with a huge surprise

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: mix of social media and written fic, because of the ages of the kids, we could make it so charles and Y/N got married at 18 and started their family at 19 so charles is still 26, OR married at 21, family at 22 so he’s 29, completely up to you. So this could take place in 2027 or 2024, it doesn’t matter. Also, her performance photos/video outfits are not consistent, sadly.

Y/N was backstage doing her makeup when her daughter, Juliana, who everyone calls ‘Jules’, walks in with a hairbrush in her hand

“Mami, Can you brush my hair?” Jules asked. Y/N turned to her and smiled.

“Sure, baby. How many knots are in your hair?” Y/N asked, taking the brush from Juliana’s hand

“A lot, I can’t get them out.” Jules said. Y/N got a detangling spray from her vanity to spray in her daughter’s hair.

“It should be easier to get it out now. You excited to dance with me, princesa?” Y/N asked.

“I’m nervous. What if I mess up the routine to ‘Arranca’ and I get booed?” Jules asked. Y/N spun her around so they were facing each other.

“Mi amor, you won’t get booed. Besides, you are 7 years old, no one expects you to be perfect. And guess what, you are still going to sing a song with me.” Y/N said.

“Can we sing ‘como la flor’, mami?” Jules asked and Y/N smiled.

“Any song you want, baby.” Y/N said and kissed her forehead.

Charles was sitting with his 4 year old son, Santiago, who’s nickname is “Santi”, his brother Arthur, Pierre, and Kika.

“Where’s sissy?” Santi asked.

“She’s with your maman, mon coeur.” Charles replied.

“I can’t believe you brought him to the concert, Charles.” Arthur said.

“It would be unfair to leave him in the hotel room with Dot’s (Dorothea) nanny while Jules gets to be here with us.” Charles said.

“I think it’s cute that Charles brought Santi.” Kika said. “How old is Dot now by the way?”

“She is 8 months old now.” Charles said and Kika cooed.

“You took him to the bathroom, right?” Pierre asked,

“Of course I did, I’m not an idiot, mate.” Charles said.

“Why is Jules with Y/N?” Arthur asked.

“I Don’t know, Jules asked if she could go backstage with Y/N and Y/N said she was okay with it.” Charles said.

“Yeah, she had the right idea, do you see how packed it is?” Kika asked. Charles stood up, holding Santi’s hand the entire time.

“Yeah, my Y/N has a lot of fans from all over the world.” Charles commented the lights turned off and the crowd started screaming, Charles saw Santi put his hands over his ears so he got out Santi’s headphones from his backpack and put them on him, carrying him so he will be able to see his mom.

Y/N came out on stage with her first performance outfit.

“Ah, she looks so good!” Kika fangirled.

“Yeah, she does.” Charles smiled fondly.

“How we doing tonight, London?” Y/N asked the crowd and they cheered. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m starting my world tour here. It seems insane to me but it’s also the same weekend as the British Grand Prix so of course it makes sense to start here.” The crowd cheered, clearly having an overlap of F1 fans and Y/N fans. “If you have been a fan of mine for years and have been to my concerts before, hi, it’s so nice to have you come back. If you’re a long term fan but haven’t been to my concert, I am so glad that you are finally able to come. Lastly, if you’re a new fan or your sibling, bestie, partner, child, or even parent dragged you here tonight, welcome! You are going to have a fun time, I promise.” Y/N said and the soundboard person started the instrumental track of her song ‘Fulanito’

“If y’all know this song, sing along, mis amores!” Y/N said. “Que manera, como él consigue de mí lo que quería, quedé partía desde la primera, haciendo lo que no hace cualquiera, y no sale tan bien…” Y/N started singing. Her backup dancers joined her on stage for the performance and they finished that song. There was a ton of applause. “All right, before we start this next song, I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m married.” Y/N said, putting her hand up to show off the ring Charles bought her once he started making good money in Formula 1 and the crowd cheered. “We have a little family, 3 children to be exact, and my daughter’s dream is to be a performer like me. So everyone clap your hands together for my daughter, Juliana!”

“Sissy!” Santi said, perking his head up.

“Yeah, It’s You’re sister, Santi.” Charles said, they all clapped and Charles saw Jules walk on stage and hugged her mom before standing next to one of the dancers before the music of ‘Arranca’ started playing, Jules was following the dance exactly and she looked like she was having a great time. Charles took out his phone to record his little girl dancing with his wife, when the song ended, Jules hugged Y/N and Y/N squatted down to give Jules’s a kiss on her forehead.

“Give it up for my daughter, everyone! Before my baby goes, she wanted to sing a song with me so I gotta do it.” Y/N sat down on the edge of the stage, Jules following her and the soundboard guy started playing the music of “como la flor” by Selena Quintanilla. Charles took photos of that too.

The concert ended an hour and a half later.

“Hey guys, thank you for coming with me.” Charles told Pierre and Kika, carrying Santi who is sleeping.

“No problem, we had a fun time.” Pierre said.

“Yes! Please ask Y/N if she’ll let me borrow the outfit she wore when she sung Sin Pijama, it’s so cute.” Kika said. Charles laughed.

“Sure Kika, I’ll ask her.” Charles said. Pierre and Kika left and Charles walked with Arthur backstage. When they entered, they saw Jules practicing her dance.

“Papi!” Jules said, hugging Charles. “Did you like my dance? I practiced with Daniela (dancer).”

“You were amazing, sweetie, but call me papa.” Charles said. Jules let go,

“I like papi better.” Jules said before hugging Arthur. “Tio, you liked how I sung?”

“You did really well, and it’s oncle.” Arthur said.

“Fine, oncle.” Jules said and she sat down on the couch. Y/N came out in short and a hoodie.

“Muñeco, Arturito, is Santi sleeping?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, He’s a little tired, but he was dancing to most of your set, you were amazing out there, Mon coeur.” Charles said, kissing her.

“Yes, you were great, didn’t know you were such a great dancer.” Arthur said.

“Yeah, i took classes when I was younger. Let’s go back to the hotel so we could Santi in bed.” Y/N said, rubbing Santi’s back.

“Yeah, Let’s go.” Charles said.

They go to their hotel, Arthur goes to a different room, charles Charles enters their shared hotel room to get Santi ready for bed while Y/N went to the nanny’s hotel room to get Dot. When Y/N enters their hotel room, Jules and Santi are in their pajamas, he’s sleeping and she’s brushing her teeth.

“Mami, Can we go to iHop tomorrow?” Jules asked.

“Do we have time for breakfast before going to your race?” Y/N asked Charles while putting Dot in her portable crib.

“Yeah we have time, we justa have to wake up early.” Charles said.

“I’m okay with that.” Jules said, she got into bed and fell asleep.

“Thank you for coming to my concert tonight.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, Pierre and Kika loved it, she loved your last outfit by the way, she wants to borrow it by the way.” Charles said, changing into his pajamas

“Yeah, she can borrow it after the tour.” Y/N said

“I am so proud of you, you know. We’re both in a really good place in our careers” Charles said.

“Thank you, i love you.” Y/N said.

“I love you too.” Charles said, kissing Y/N.

liked by tomholland2013 and others

charles_leclerc My princess and my queen singing and dancing together, what more could mask for? The Y/N Leclerc concert was a blast, Santi enjoyed it, my brother enjoyed it, what a great way to have fun before the Grand Prix

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y/n_leclerc love you, muñeco! Glad you had a good time

valeinallcaps yes! F1 driver supporter his Latina Queen, love to see it

maxverstappen1 Kelly and P loved her too! P won’t stop singing “Shower” on the way back from the concert

georgerussell63 Carmen had to tell me what the lyrics meant and I think she sang “MAMIII” a little too hard

danielricciardo she had me dancing in the mirror and singing in the shower this morning, best concert ever!

pierregasly Kika has her tickets for the Paris show, she’s obsessed.

oscarpiastri Lily really wanted to go but it was sold out 😢

charles_leclerc im sure Y/N will have another show in London soon

User32 NO WAY!!! I was there too!

User12 him going to her concert is iconic

User28 the grid going to her concert is iconic

liked by zendaya and others

y/n_leclerc Thank you so much London, you guys were absolutely amazing, thank you for making Jules’s first performance special. Next stop is Dublin!

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sabrinacarpenter loved your performance outfits, they’re so you! We need to collab!

selenagomez never been happier to be in London than last night!

mileycyrus you have such an amazing stage presence

dualipa whenever you’re in LA…

joejonas 100/10 concert right there!

reneerapp that’s mother right there

sukiwaterhouse it was such a great show, loved that you brought your daughter out

liked by y/n_leclerc and others

francisca.cgomes she is an iconic, a legend, and she is the moment. But bestie, where did you get that outfit?!?

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y/n_leclerc its custom made, babe, you could borrow it after the tour!

User31 she’s so real for that

The End

I really hope y’all liked it!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #hispanic reader #hispanic #latina #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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absurdthirst · 3 months

Text

Fireworks {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: Dirty talk, premature ejaculation, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum eating, riding, breast play, mentions of IUD, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of breeding kink, family planning

Comments: Seeing Frankie Morales again at the cookout thrown by your sister and her husband, you discover that you the crush you have on the Delta Force operators isn't as one sided as you previous thought.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸HAPPY 4th of JULY!!!!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

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

“Ohhhhhhh say can you seeeeeeeeeee!” Loudly and off-key, Ben Miller shouts/sings the national anthem for only the hundredth time because it’s the only day he can get away with it. Fourth of July, the nation’s birthday and it either invokes ad nauseam tales of valor or over exuberant patriotism. In Benny, and the other members of Delta Force’s A Squadron, it’s both. A day to get rip roaring drunk, party like they might not live to see the next day and generally raise hell. “Give it a rest, Benny!” Frankie shouts over the music that is blaring through the outdoor speakers that Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia had set up in his little backyard oasis. “You sound like a cow giving birth!” He adds, laughing and taking another sip of his beer when the youngest of the Miller brothers shoots him double fingers.

Santi chuckles, “Maria’s sister will be arriving soon so you better be on your best behavior.” He warns and Frankie sits up a little. Ever since Pope introduced Frankie to you, he’s always had a crush. It’s ridiculous but he didn’t really get to make a move when you were busy being the maid of honor and he was the best man. So many people joked with him about getting you in his bed the next of the wedding but Frankie was a gentleman. What he doesn’t know is that you have a crush on him. Ever since you first set eyes on Frankie, you have been like a schoolgirl with a crush and it’s so bad your sister has teased you mercilessly. Your sister answers the door after you arrive with homemade cherry pie and apple pie in hand and she ushers you in. “Frankie is here.” She smirks and you roll your eyes, “it’s been like 2 years. He doesn’t like me like that.” You warn Maria who scoffs and sets the pies down. “Santi thinks he does.” You snort, “Santi just wanted his best friend to be his brother in law.” You raise your eyebrows and she huffs before guiding you outside to see the guys.

As soon as your name is said, Frankie’s head pops up, almost embarrassingly fast. Santiago catches it, but that’s because the bastard was watching him in anticipation. His eyes widen when he sees the flirty little sundress you are wearing, cock twitching in his shorts. Thankful he wasn’t just wearing swimming trunks like Benny was.

You greet each man, Tom over on the grill flipping burgers, until your eyes meet Frankie’s and your heart stutters. God, he’s so fucking handsome. “Hi Frankie.” You smile, trying to not show how flustered you are by the matching grins of your sister and brother in law make it clear that you’re not acting as cool as you want to. “Beer?” Santi offers and you nod, “Frankie, why don’t you get her a beer?” He asks his best friend, eyebrows raised slightly.

He knows what Pope is trying to do and he appreciates it while hating it at the same time. You’ve shown no interest in him, so why is he trying to push the two of you together? You seem nervous around him. “Come on, we’ll get you a good beer.” He promises, holding up his Corona with a lime wedged in the neck. “Not that Miller Lite shit the others are drinking.” Benny scoffs because the last beer Frankie had drank was a Miller and he had just switched to the Corona.

You chuckle and follow him into the kitchen where the beers are in ice to avoid the hot summer heat. You set down the pies you made and Frankie groans, “is that cherry pie?” He asks and you nod, “yeah. My grandma’s recipe.” You tell him and he leans down to smell it. “Fuck, that smells delicious.” His words make your stomach twist with arousal, imagining him between your thighs saying the exact same thing. He grabs a corona and opens it with ease, grabbing a slice of lime to shove in the top. “Thanks. Happy 4th. Thank you for your service.” You toast him with a soft smile, clinking your glass bottle with his after he grabs his drink.

He doesn’t really like when people just thank him for his service, but he feels proud when you say it. Maybe because you are more aware of what he does because of your sister. “It’s hard flying a helicopter and having women throw their panties at me because they don’t know the difference between rotary and fixed wing.” He jokes.

You giggle, hating how girlish you sound but that’s what he does to you. When he was Santi’s best man, you dreamed about him sweeping you off your feet on the wedding night, keeping to the tradition of the maid of honor and best man but he was a gentleman and that, you can’t deny, made you pout in disappointment. “I’m sure you struggle every day.” You mock jokingly before you try to push the lime into the beer but it’s too big.

He shrugs, not willing to comment on that because it would be disrespectful. “Haven’t found a keeper yet.” He admits, knowing the woman he really wants is completely out of his league. You are gorgeous, smart, funny, and responsible. No way you would fall for a trigger puller like him. “What about you? I was surprised when Maria said you were coming alone. Thought you were seeing someone, that it was serious.”

You frown, “seeing someone? I’ve been painfully single for way too long.” You snort and finally manage to push the lime into the beer. Frankie frowns, “I thought - your cousin Danielle told me you had a boyfriend and he was away on business during the wedding events?” Frankie tilts his head and it’s your turn to frown, “boyfriend? I - no. Why would - oh. I know why. She has a crush on you. Told us allll the time about how cute you are but why would she say I had a boyfriend?” You don’t put two and two together, annoyed at your cousin for lying about you.

Frankie rolls his eyes and sighs, putting two and two together. “I fucking know.” He growls. “Pope was busting my ass about making a move on you at the reception.” Frankie confesses, “she must have overheard the night of the cookout.” He remembers her being annoying and constantly ‘checking on them’ while the guys were outside. The bridal shower had been a family co-ed event for everyone. “She told me later that day.”

“Told you what?” You ask, stomach twisting that Pope was telling him to make a move. You wonder if he wants you like you want him or if he is being polite and he actually told Pope he wasn’t interested in you. “Told me that you had a boyfriend and she - she was interested in me.” You deflate at that, wondering if he hooked up with your cousin and that’s why he hasn’t made a move. You take a sip of your beer, “well, she’s beautiful.” You murmur, glancing down at your pies on the counter.

“But she’s annoying as shit.” Frankie snorts. “No offense.” He adds because she is your cousin. He takes a sip of his beer. “I told her that I wasn’t interested, because I’m not.” Frankie doesn’t like to play around with that shit, because he knows how stressful his job is in a relationship and he doesn’t toy with the women he dates.

You nod, chuckling, “yeah. She’s annoying as shit. I love her but all she wants is to get married and have a kid. I don’t even think she cares who the guy is. Insert man here.” You gesture and take another sip of your beer, “I wondered why she hasn’t been around since.” You hum, “so…have you been seeing anyone?” You ask, curious and mentally preparing yourself for heartbreak because you don’t want to keep fantasizing about him when he could be taken.

Frankie lifts a brow, very interested in the way the conversation has come back to him. “Nope.” He answers truthfully. “Haven’t really felt like it.” He’s had a couple of one night stands, but no one that he’s wanted anything more with. “But I can’t believe you are single.” He admits. “Guys where you live must be blind idiots.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, “I guess I don’t put myself out there enough. Maria is always telling me to get out in bars and meet someone but it’s not my scene anymore. Did that in college and now? I just want to find my person and settle down, spend nights watching movies with take out and make out on the sofa.” You confess with a giggle before you inhale deeply, deciding to take a leap. “I met someone but I don’t know if he likes me too. It’s hard to read him when he’s hiding behind a cap.” You confess, looking up at the hat on his head.

The Standard Heating Oil hat is a constant when he’s not in uniform, a family business that he had no interest in joining when he joined the Army. He reaches for it now and shuffles it back and scratches his longer than regulation hair and settles it back down. “Hat’s just an accessory.” He flashes you a grin and shuffles a little closer. “I bet the man you’re talking about has always thought you were amazing and wanted to take you out.” He hums.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look at him with surprise in your eyes and a smile on your face. “Well, I’d love to go out. Anytime, Morales. Just name the time and place.” You command and he nods, his hand finding your waist. “Could’ve been dancing during the wedding reception if I knew you didn’t have a boyfriend.” Frankie sighs and you take a chance to reach up and cup his cheek, “better late than never.” You murmur, stroking his stubbled cheek with your thumb.

Frankie’s eyes dip down to your lips and he licks his own without even realizing he’s doing it. Leaning in slightly to kiss you, your lips barely touch when the door opens. “Food’s ready!” Benny shouts out and grins when he sees Frankie. “Go Cat!” He slams the door and turns back to the group out in the yard. “Maria! Frankie’s kissing your sister!”

You chuckle against Frankie’s chin. The kiss is short and sweet, your heart pounding from the brief touch, but the moment has passed so you slide your hand down to Frankie’s neck. “Let’s get some food, Catfish.” You declare and he nods, knowing that he will need to kiss you properly another time where you won’t be interrupted. You make your way outside and everyone is smirking, making you roll your eyes. “Shut up.” You say to your sister and she holds her hand up, “I didn’t say a word.” You snort, “you don’t need to.” She’s been your sounding board for your previously unrequited crush on Frankie.

Frankie moves over to Benny, slapping his back harshly and squeezing the other man’s trap. “Thanks, asshole.” He hisses, even though he’s not too mad. The two of you are on the same page at least and his heart thumps when he looks over at you talking to your sister, even as his cock twitches. “Guest bedroom has fresh sheets.” Pope offers with a shit eating grin. “She’s staying there anyway, but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind christening the bed.”

You grab a hot dog and sit with your sister, talking about your extended family, and you tell her about Danielle and what she said to Frankie. “God, she’s - she’s too much. You mean to tell me she stopped you getting laid on my wedding night?” Maria scoffs, “well, you get the last laugh. The sheets are clean in the guest bed if you wanna have the best man stay tonight?” She smirks and you fluster, “I mean…I wouldn’t say no if he asked.” You confess, “he’s - God, I can really see a life with him. Is that too much?” You ask your sister who looks over at her husband and smiles when he winks at her from across the yard. “Nope. I know exactly what you mean.”

Benny and Pope are giving him hell, ribbing him relentlessly while Will and Tom laugh and egg them on. “Yeah, yeah.” Frankie rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing right along with them after relaying the entire story and feeling extremely confident now. “It’s better that we found out now.” He adds and they are encouraging him to go for it now. “Let her finish her hot dog.” Pope suggest. “Yeah, no deep throating Kong over here until thirty minutes after you’ve eaten.” Benny snorts, having seen Frankie naked more times than he could count. Frankie shoots him a bird.

You see the boys joking around and Maria playfully rolls her eyes. “Boys.” She scoffs and you chuckle, helping her with the plates once everyone is done eating. When you’re back in the kitchen, you look up as Frankie comes in to grab another beer. “Tom is a good griller.” You compliment his captain and Frankie nods, “he is. Always has been. Even when we were out in the middle of the desert, the asshole could grill up something on a fire.” He chuckles and you giggle, “I think later I should really thank you for your service. Show you my…appreciation for your sacrifice for our great nation.” You reach out to trail your nail down his chest, scratching his chest slightly.

“Mierda.” Frankie hisses, cock twitching again. Your boldness is sexy and he loves how you go after what you want. “I didn’t really want to watch fireworks anyway.” He admits with a smirk. “Overrated.”

You grin, loving that he is enthusiastic and not rejecting you. “I said later. I want to see some fireworks first in the sky and after, I want to see them when you make me cum on your tongue.” You declare boldly, leaning in to kiss his neck.

He groans, smirking even wider when you pull back to grin at him. “I see the rumors of my talents have been justifiably spread.” He jokes, sending you a wink. “You’ll see fireworks and then you’ll see stars.”

You giggle and step back when Tom walks into the kitchen to grab another beer. He playfully rolls his eyes at your proximity to Frankie, “can you two at least wait until after the fireworks? I bought like three packs. Benny is banned from letting off fireworks.” He reminds Fish who nods and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. You snort and ask “why?” and Frankie sighs, “well, Benny is great with a M4A1 but nearly burns his dick off with fireworks.” You nod in understanding and Tom takes a gulp of his beer, “you gonna come outside and help set up?” Tom asks and Frankie nods, squeezing your hand before he heads off to help Tom. You are anxious for later, knowing this would seem fast to most but you’ve wanted Frankie for nearly 3 years.

“Man, are you sure about this?” Tom asks seriously as the two of them walk outside. “This is Maria’s sister, if shit doesn’t work out….” He trails off, looking over at where Pope and his wife are sitting in one of the loungers, making out. “Yeah I know.” Frankie has thought about that a few times. His best friend would be honor bound to break his kneecaps. “But I think she’s worth it.”

You clean up some dishes, setting them aside to dry while the boys set up the fireworks. You head outside to find Frankie and Tom stepping back from the set up in the back of the yard and you see Pope sitting on the lounger with your sister between his legs, his hands caressing her thighs. “Get a room!” You yell at them playfully and your sister shouts back, “I have one upstairs.” You chuckle and walk over to Benny, “you think this is a good decision? Me and Frankie? I feel…I really like him but I don’t want him to break my heart.”

Benny snorts, nearly choking on his beer. “Fish?” He asks, pointing over to Frankie. “The man has it bad for you. Thinks moon beams shoot out of your ass and shit.” He jokes, trying to reassure you at the same time. “He’s pined for you. One of the reasons he hasn’t really dated. Said that he had already found the woman for him, but she was taken.”

You cover your smile with your beer, pleased that his friend said that. “We wasted time because my cousin lied but I don’t want to waste another second. I really like him and I - I want to see where it goes.” You confess just as Frankie comes over. His arm wraps around your waist to pull you against him and you smile, leaning into his side while Tom sets the fireworks off.

Frankie likes your weight against him as you both look up into the sky. “Enjoy the show.” He murmurs in your ear. “It’s just the first one of the night.”

You grin and nod, looking up at the sky as the fireworks begin. It’s gorgeous and your eyes widen at the display. “Wow.” You gasp and tilt your head, resting it on his shoulder to look up at the sky in awe.

The moment is completely perfect as he watches the fireworks as they burst overhead. Neighbors around the house also start shooting bursting bombs of color and light into the air, making the entire neighborhood light up. The display will go on for hours. “Happy Fourth of July.” Frankie hums.

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and he turns to look at you. His eyes flick down to your lips and you lean in at the same time he does. His nose nudges yours for a second, giving you a chance to back away, but when you don’t, his lips press against yours. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss as the fireworks explode over your head.

Frankie tightens his hold on you, drawing you closer while your tongue slides against his and makes him moan. He likes a woman who’s willing to initiate. His hands sliding up and down your back before he palms your ass possessively.

You whimper into his mouth, your hands sliding up to grip his neck and his hat is pushed back on his head as he kisses you thoroughly, squeezing your ass until you feel him starting to harden against your hip. The group notices and starts to cheer, making you fluster as you pull back from Frankie’s mouth.

“Get a room.” Santi snorts, grinning at Frankie before he waggles his brows at you. Tom chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Just don’t run off to get married.” He warns playfully. Frankie huffs and shakes his head. “You all suck.” He teases. “We are going to go upstairs now.”

You ignore the way everyone smirks as Frankie takes your hand and guides you through the yard into the house where you switch to guide him up the stairs. It’s a house Frankie knows well. He worked on it with Santi after he bought it, helping to update it. You giggle as you make your way upstairs and squeal when Frankie smacks your ass through your sundress. You find the door to the guest room and open it, pulling Frankie in behind you before you shut the door.

“So now we are alone.” Frankie smirks as he pushes the lock on the door knob and looks over at you. “And we aren’t nearly as drunk as we would have been at the wedding reception.” He adds. “That dress was killer though.”

“Thanks. I told my sister I’d only be maid of honor if I got to pick my dress.” You tease and make your way over to the foot of the bed after you kick off your sandals. “You looked so handsome in that suit. Wanted to rip it off of you but shit…Danielle ruined our good intentions.” You chuckle and take a step closer to him, “but we are here now and I want you, Frankie. I want you to touch me.” You plead, sliding your hands along his chest.

“Shorts and a t-shirt are just as good as a suit?” He asks jokingly as he pulls you closer again. “Although I like this dress too.” He slides one hand down to dip under the fabric. “Easy access.”

You smile when he caresses the back of your thigh and you lean in to kiss his clavicle on display above his t-shirt. “Shorts and t-shirt. Suit. Whatever you’re wearing, you are sexy, Morales. No two ways about it.” You murmur as you kiss along his collarbone.

“You’re sexy.” He finds the zipper to the sundress and drags it down. Eager to feel you under his hands. “Wanted to bend you over the wedding party table and fuck you right there.”

You let him pull the zipper down and you lower your arms so he can push the thin straps from your shoulders, letting the dress drop to the floor. “God, imagine that. Fucking me instead of making your best man speech.” You joke and you’re glad your dress didn’t require a bra.

“Woulda been great.” He moans when he peels the dress off you and sees your tits. “Fuck.” He hisses. “They are fucking pretty.” He compliments. “I want to suck on them when you ride my cock.”

“We can do that, baby. I just - shit - I just need you to touch me.” You plead, having spent so many nights imagining him touching you, inside of you, it’s almost unbearable to wait another second and when his hands squeeze your tits, you sigh in relief. “Yes. Please Frank.” You beg, your hand finding his hat so you can toss it onto the dresser.

“You are so goddamn pretty.” He murmurs softly, cupping your tits and pinching your nipples. “Do you want me to fuck you? Or eat you out first.”

The fact that he’s asking you what you want has your pussy clenching around nothing and you are impatient. You want him inside of you. “Fuck me first.” You demand, reaching for the hem of his shirt, “I want to see all of you.” You whine, pulling his shirt over his head when he lets go of your tits.

He is smirking at your impatience and eagerness, letting you reach for the button of his shorts. “Strip me down, baby.” He encourages. “I want you to touch me too. Imagined how good you would feel. How fucking perfect.” He groans. “You don’t know how often I thought about you while I was jerking my cock.”

You unbutton his shorts and push them down along with his briefs and he kicks them off while your eyes widen at the sight of his thick cock. “Probably as much as I touched myself thinking about you but fuck, I never imagined you’d be so…big.” You confess, reaching out to wrap your fingers around him.

He groans at your touch, rocking his hips forward and twitching when you squeeze him. “Don’t think I’ll fit?” He asks playfully. “I think I’ll fit, but I know you’ll be the tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You never knew he was such a dirty talker but you fucking love it. You moan and squeeze him again, guiding him by his cock back towards the bed and you let go of him as you fall down onto the bed and he follows you. He grabs your waist and lifts you up higher until you’re settled on the pillows. “Hi.” You murmur with a smile as he kneels between your spread legs.

“Hi.” He slides his hands up and down your thighs before he wraps a hand around his cock and starts to pump it. “You look so fucking pretty spread out for me, baby.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours while he settles into the v of your hips and lines up to sink into you inch by inch.

You cup his cheeks and lift your legs higher as he pushes into you, stretching you out. It’s a pinch without foreplay but you love how he’s stretching you out. “Oh God.” You gasp against his lips and he leans back, stopping. “You good, hermosa?” He asks and you nod, “yeah. Just overwhelmed. I never - didn’t think this would actually happen.” You confess softly, caressing his cheeks.

He nudges his nose against yours and kisses you softly. “I didn’t either.” He admits. “But it is happening and you are taking me so well. You feel so fucking good around my cock.” He is still inside you, praising you and loving how you clench down around him.

He pushes the rest of the way into you until his cock is nudging your cervix and you inhale deeply, closing your eyes at the way he feels inside you. “Fuck me, Morales.” You demand playfully and he shifts his hips, making you moan, your head tilting back against the pillow at how good he feels.

He chuckles and slowly pulls back, watching your body arch as you try to draw him back in. “Remember you asked for this.” He warns, another firework exploding above the house muffles the sound of your scream when he snaps his hips forward again.

He starts to fuck you in earnest and you cling to him, mouth open as you cry out his name in pleasure. It’s so fucking good. His hand squeezes your tit and you cover his hand with yours, making him squeeze again. “Oh shit. You feel - it’s so fucking good.” You praise him as he rocks into you.

It’s not the romantic, gentle time he probably should have been trying to focus on. This is raw, needy. Years worth of wanting being burnt off with the harsh snap of his hips and the groans when he’s buried so deep inside you that your walls clench around him. “You’re a fucking dream, baby.” He moans your name and kisses your neck. “Blowing my mind, fuck- I’m already about to bust.”

You moan at the fact that he’s so worked up. You’ve reduced this grown man to almost cumming like a teenager and that makes you clench around him, getting close. “I don’t care. You can cum. It’s safe. I have - fuck - I have an IUD. You can cum inside me.” You promise and caress his shoulders as he hunches over you.

That does it for him. He hasn’t even thought about birth control when he normally is an ‘always wear a condom’ kind of guy. The thought of filling you up as his hips stuttering before he pushes deep, painting your walls with ropes of his hot, sticky seed as he groans your name and apologizes over and over.

You stroke his back, enjoying the warmth of his cum filling you up. You sigh, closing your eyes and you know that he will make this up to you. You lower your legs from his hips as he comes to a stop and pants into your neck.

“Fuck, I can’t believe that I did that.” Frankie pants, pulling back to look you in the eyes as he kisses you. “Now, I’ll show you that I can make you cum on my tongue at least.” He promises, feeling a little embarrassed about his quick performance.

You shake your head, “it’s okay, baby. I’ll take it as a compliment. Just means you liked my pussy.” You tease, sliding your hands up to tangle in his hair as you lean in to nip his jaw playfully. “We have more times ahead.” You murmur, knowing that he won’t always do that.

“Shiiiit.” He snorts, shaking his head. “I have to take care of my girl.” He nudges his nose against yours, feeling on top of the world that you want to be with him. He smirks after one more kiss and starts to drag his mouth down your body as he moves towards his goal, determined to make you see stars like he had promised.

You watch him as he pulls out of you and starts to kiss down your body. You moan when he wraps his lips around your nipple, biting down on the bud until it’s puffy and you are squirming beneath him. “Fuck, Frankie.” You moan, already feeling his cum welling up to leak out of you. “Do you want me to - to clean up before you - you know.” You ask, wanting to see if he wants you to clean his cum first. Some men don’t like tasting themselves.

Frankie grunts, shaking his head as he suckles on your tit before pulling off of it. “Why?” He asks, lifting a brow. “I’m just going to make you messy again when I make you cum and then fuck you like I should have the first time.”

You moan when he starts to kiss down your stomach, “some men don’t like it.” You answer and he rests his chin on your lower stomach, “I’m not some men. I don’t give a fuck if you’re full of my cum. I’m going to make you cum.” He promises and you whimper when his breath hits your slicked up folds.

The pearlescent liquid that is starting to drip out of you doesn’t bother Frankie. He uses his thumbs to pull your folds back, exposing your sensitive clit to his hungry gaze and he moans when he sees your cunt clench, pushing more of his cum out. “Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight.” He groans, looking up at you while he lowers his head down to suck your clit into his mouth.

His mouth is hot and wet as he sucks on your clit and a soft gasp escapes your lips at the sensation. “Fuck. That feels good.” You murmur, stroking your fingers through his hair as his dark eyes watch you from between your thighs.

Frankie has never been a passive lover. He doesn’t take and not give in return. Even the one night stands left his bed unable to tell anyone that he had been selfish or didn’t try to make sure they had a good time. You, he especially wants to enjoy this, he wants you to love it. To be addicted to it and him in turn. The same way he is already addicted to you. He flattens his tongue against your folds and tastes the two of you combined with a moan.

You moan at the way he laps at you, tasting his own spend from your pussy, and you love the way his hands squeeze your thighs as he pushes them further apart to accommodate his wide shoulders. "Shit." You hiss in pleasure when he pushes his tongue inside of you.

He chuckles into you, aware that you are both shocked and awed by the fact that he’s willing to devour you so thoroughly. It makes it even better, his spent cock twitching as he feels your walls pulse around his tongue. Moaning at how good you are being for him. He can hear the cheers and the fireworks outside, but he’s focused on you, nothing else matters right now as he laps at your cunt.

Your head tilts back as his nose nudges against your clit and your chest heaves as the pleasure makes your spine tingle. The way he’s devouring you like a man starved has your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Frankie groans, unwilling to pull away from your cunt to encourage you, so he just makes sounds as he doubles down on your pussy. Wanting to see you come apart for him as his cock starts to harden again.

His tongue pushes deep, lapping up his cum combined with yours, and you whimper, getting closer as he nudges your clit with his nose again. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.” You moan and he works his tongue faster, sending you over the edge.

He absorbs your sounds, loving how they muffle through your pussy and your walls flutter wildly as your body arches. Sucking your clit into his mouth and pulling on it while your body shakes and he wrings every drop of pleasure out of you that he can until you are pushing at his head. He lets go, licking at you softly just to feel you convulse with aftershocks and he chuckles quietly. “Now we’re even.”

You chuckle breathlessly, eyes closed as you enjoy the way he makes you feel, and you sigh in bliss as he kisses his way back up your body. You drag him down to press your lips to his, not caring about the combined taste on his tongue as it tangles with yours. You slide your hand down between you, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock. “Lay down.” You order, letting go of him to push on his chest.

He rolls onto his back and reaches for you. “You want to ride?” He asks, helping you as you swing a leg over his waist and straddle him. The next barrage of fireworks starts to burst, lighting up the bedroom and he grins. “There’s a show to compete with.”

You smirk, sliding down his body until you’re kneeling between his legs. His cock is still half hard so you wrap your fingers around him and take the head of his cock into your mouth. You love the way he groans and his mouth falls open as his dark eyes watch you.

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, wanting to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling but he wants to watch you more. Knowing that this is so much better than his wildest dreams about you. “Fuck, baby, that mouth.” He groans. “I knew you would look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. So fucking pretty.” He reaches down and caresses your cheek, feeling the jaw move as you take him deeper.

He hardens more in your mouth and you love that, tasting the tang of your arousal lingering on his skin and you whimper around his cock as you start to pump what you can’t take into your mouth.

“Fuck, I want you to ride me.” Frankie whines. “Want to see your tits bounce while you ride my cock. Want to watch you.” He pants and curses again. “Mierda- that tongue of yours.” He hisses when you press your tongue against his slit. “Ride me, baby. Please ride me.”

You want to deny him and make him cum down your throat but you want to cum on his cock. You moan and release his cock, a string of spit keeping you connected until it breaks as you shift to straddle him. You reach down to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance after you lift up to sink down onto his length with a moan, fireworks still exploding outside.

“Fuck!” He rocks his hips up and grabs onto yours as he groans. You are perfect around him, looking like a goddess as you are taking his cock deep into your body. “Perfect, baby. Fuck, you are so perfect.” He reaches up and drags you down for a kiss.

You moan into his mouth, loving the way he feels even bigger in this new angle. “Fuck.” You pant against his mouth and rock back onto him. Your hands sliding into his hair as you slide your tongue against his.

Frankie holds onto you, adoring you with his hands. Cupping your tits and squeezing them as you slowly start to rock. Rolling your hips and squeezing your cock. “Fuck, baby.” He moans into your mouth breathlessly.

He loves the way you rock back onto him and you caress his chest as you kiss along his jaw. He feels so good inside you. “Fuck. You’re so good, baby.” You gasp, hitting something good inside of you.

“That’s it, baby.” Frankie encourages, holding you up and ducking his head so he can take a nipple into his mouth. Doing exactly what he said he wanted to do.

You rock back onto his cock, shifting back to sit up and you grab onto the headboard to start bouncing on his length. His eyes burn into yours and you watch him as your thighs start to burn but you ignore it and focus on the pleasure.

He watches, completely entranced by the sight of you riding him like he was a prized bull. Your fingernails dig into his chest and make him hiss in pleasure at the sweet sting as you brace yourself over him. “Fuck, fuck.” His eyes dip down between your thighs and he watches your lips drag over his shaft, making his toes curl when you clench down around him.

You are lost in the sensations, mouth open and whimpers escaping as you move faster, grinding down onto his cock, and your hand slides down to rub your clit. Frankie’s hand immediately knocks yours away and you whine until he picks up where you left off, rubbing your clit and you pant, “I’m so close. Shit. Keep going. Just like that. Just like - fuckkkk.” You wail, freezing on top of him as your walls clamp down on his cock while you soak him.

Frankie growls when you clamp down on him, soaking his cock and he braces his feet in the bed to rock up into you. Chasing his own release again while you shake and whimper, riding out your high. “Fuck, baby. Love it, love you.” He blurts out, knowing that you might not believe it, but he does love you.

His confession, even though it could be the best of the moment, makes you choke out, “love you too. Fuck, Frankie. Loved you since - since the engagement party.” You confess, wanting him to cum inside you again. “Cum for me. Please. Want to feel it again.” You beg, squeezing his cock in your walls.

He gasps out, holding tight to you as his cock drives up into your grasping walls over and over. “Fuck- you- you’re perfect.” He rambles, turning his head to press his lips to yours as his entire body tenses. Another thrust buries him deep and he’s moaning into your mouth as he falls over the edge again, cock pulsing deep inside you.

You pant against his lips as he stiffens beneath you, painting your walls again, and you caress his cheek, “so good. That time was - wow.” You murmur, relaxing above him as he slides his hands along your back down to your ass to playfully squeeze it.

“Had to make up for the first time.” Frankie jokes, even though it obviously hadn’t bothered you. He kisses you softly and sighs. “You’re amazing.” He has always thought so. “And I meant it. It’s too soon to say something like that, but I don’t just like you or want to sleep with you.” He admits. “I want to have a relationship. See where this goes.”

You caress his chest, “Frankie, we have known each other for four years. I think I’ve been in love with you for three of those. It’s not rushed and it’s not some fling. I want a relationship with you. I love you and I am all in if you are.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss his chin.

Frankie hums and shoots you a grin. “That sounds perfect to me.” He comments, just as the last barrage of fireworks quiets down and cheers are heard around the neighborhood. “Everyone agrees too.” He jokes, happy to finally be here with you and sharing how he feels.

****

“Thanks.” You say to your sister after she hands you a beer. “No worries. Bet you’re glad you don’t need to breastfeed anymore.” She grins and you snort, “yeah. I love him more than life but sometimes I just wanted a beer without having to pump and dump.” You confess, looking over at Santi and your husband, Frankie, as they talk. You have your son on your hip and he’s eight months old now. Santi and Maria’s daughter runs around chasing Uncle Benny, the lively two year old giggling while Tom grills and Will sips his beer overseeing the food.

“You know, Santi and I have thought about trying for another.” Your sister admits, grinning at the squeals of joy as her daughter is scooped up by Benny and he blows raspberries against her tummy. She shrugs slightly. “You having Marcus gave us baby fever. Especially Santi.” She rolls her eyes playfully, amazed that her sexy husband is so enthralled by the idea of getting her pregnant again. He loved her body while carrying their daughter and loves the changes that had brought to her post baby body.

You chuckle, leaning in to kiss the forehead of your baby as he babbles away on your hip. He will want to be crawling around in a minute but you want to hold him for a little longer. “Well, I’ll be honest…I kind of want another one too. Frankie is such a good dad and I just - we got pregnant by surprise with Marcus and we wanted him as soon as we found out but I kind of want to get pregnant knowing we are trying.” You tilt your head, “does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” She promises, knowing you better than most. You want to wonder if every time your husband cums inside you if that is the time you create another life together. “It’s the anticipation and fun of trying.” She smirks. “I think that your husband has a breeding kink that might come out.” She teases playfully.

"You think so?" You smirk, looking over at Frankie as his gaze meets yours and he winks at you from under his ever present hat. "I like the idea of that. If we both try, we could be pregnant at the same time." You tell her and she grins, "how freaking amazing would that be? So, are we doing this? Telling our husbands to knock us up again?" She asks and you nod, "hell yeah." She giggles and reaches for Marcus, "lemme hold my nephew for a bit. Go tell your husband what you want." She smirks and you let her take your son into her arms and you sway your hips as you walk over to Frankie who is now alone as Santi walks over to Maria, cooing over the baby. "Happy 4th, baby. Thank you for your service." You murmur as you lean in to lick his ear.

Shivering, Frankie groans and turns his head to press his lips to yours. “I love when you thank me.” He teases, remembering the very enthusiastic blow job he had gotten on Veteran’s Day, even though you were still pregnant and weren’t always feeling sexy. “This is our anniversary.” He reminds you with a grin, loving the re-telling of the story every year when the fireworks start. Every year the tales of your screams are even more exaggerated, but he doesn’t dispute Benny’s telling of the story. “I love you more now, if that’s possible.”

You reach up to cup his cheek as he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer. “I love you so much.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss him softly and he chases your lips as you pull back. “I have something I want to talk about.” You confess, sliding your hand down his chest. “Yeah?” He asks, brow furrowing in curiosity. “I want another baby.” You admit, biting your lip to wait for his reaction.

Frankie is honestly surprised, thinking that you would want a year or two before talking about another. “Are you sure?” He asks, wondering if his pride in Marcus and being a dad has somehow pressured you into thinking that he needs another kid now. “Yeah.” You grin and shrug your shoulders. “Maria and I were thinking that you and Santi could get us pregnant and we can go through it together.” He glances over at his best friend and your sister as they play with Marcus and he has to admit that it would be fun to share the expectant dad role with Santi. “Only if you’re really wanting another baby now.” He murmurs. “You are the one who has to go through everything.”

You nod, “I want this. I want us to enjoy trying for a baby. Marcus was a surprise and I want us to actively try and know that when you’re filling me up, it’s to knock me up.” You explain, “we have been using condoms anyway since I didn’t bother with another IUD after Marcus. We could start trying tonight.” You suggest with a smirk as you press yourself against him.

You can feel his cock twitch when you’re pressed against him, so Frankie doesn’t even deny that it sounds good to him. “I’ll burn the damn condoms.” He vows, hating wearing them, but he wasn’t going to push you towards a different birth control. He just loves feeling nothing between you. “You want a Fourth of July baby, baby?” He smirks back at you, leaning in to kiss you again.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding into his mouth. You moan when his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through your shorts, and you ignore the cheers from your friends as Frankie devours you. “Guessing you said yes too, huh Fish?” Santi smirks as he walks over with Marcus on his hip. You step back from Frankie and take your son from his godfather, “you hungry, baby?” You ask and Marcus squeezes your breast, making you laugh. “Come on, let’s get you a snack.” You coo to your baby as you carry him into the house to get a snack for him.

Santiago slaps Frankie on the back and laughs. “Fuck, we are in for it now.” He jokes, smiling broadly at the adventures to come. “First one to get their wife pregnant has to buy the rounds throughout the pregnancy.” He tells him, making Frankie snort. “Pendejo.” He huffs. “You just want me to buy the drinks.” He won’t give a shit about it though. Proudly will buy the drinks since he’s a lucky fucking man. He’s got the woman he wanted and the life he never imagined he would have, all because of the Fourth of July.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

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honestly i just have dbf!santi brainrot.

Precious Girl.

oh my GOOOOOOD everyone knows I see the words dad's best friend and go fuckin feral. thank you for this.

warnings - smut. cursing.

Masterlist. Inbox.

You're sat on a bench in the dark when he walks past.

"Santi?" you ask, squinting to see him.

"Hermosa?"

He stops and sits down next to you, his warmth instantly seeping into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

"What are you doing sat out here? It's 2am and pitch black."

You chew at your lip, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"I had a date. It was bad, so I left. Realised I didn't know where I was, so I sat down here to try and call an Uber or something."

"What do you mean, bad?"

"I don't know. He was cocky. Patronising. Immature. I don't have the energy for boys anymore, Santi."

He chuckles, deep and knowing.

"At least you know what you want, hermosa. I admire that."

"What I want doesn't fucking exist," you laugh. "Think I'll just give up."

"I know you. You've never been a quitter."

You exhale slowly.

"I hate that you're right."

A pause.

"What are you doing walking around in the dark at this time of night, Garcia?"

"Met some old college buddies at that Irish bar."

"Did my Dad go?"

"Yeah. We parked in separate places, so I was just walking back to my car. He left just before me."

"He loves those guys."

"I do too," he smiles.

You both sit for a moment, thinking. Santiago nudges your shoulder with his gently.

"Let's get out of here, hmm? I'll drive you home."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I know you love my heated seats, so..."

"It's true," you laugh. "They're the height of luxury, Santi."

"That car was my mid life crisis."

"There are worse things it could have been. Thank God it wasn't gambling. Or prostitutes."

He laughs, throwing his head back and knocking his body into your side.

"None of that shit. Just a nice car with heated seats."

"What more could you want?"

"Exactly."

He grabs your hand, pulling you up with him.

"Let's go home, hermosa."

Santi walks you back to his car, only ten minutes down the road. When you reach it, he reaches past you and grabs the handle on the passenger side to open the door for you. He leans in close, his nose brushing yours. Your breath hitches in your chest, not daring to move.

You don't know who moves first, but all of a sudden his lips are on yours, pressing you up against the car. You're moaning into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his salt and pepper hair, desperate to get as close to him as possible.

Santi's hands dance from your hips to the hem of your skirt and underneath. He pulls your underwear to the side and runs his fingers through your wet heat, groaning.

"Fuck, baby. This all for me?"

When you nod frantically, he smirks.

"Fucking filthy. Getting all worked up for your dad's best friend. What would they say if they knew, huh? If they saw their precious girl getting fingered in a parking lot..."

He trails off as he sinks two fingers into you, his other hand holding an iron grip on your hip to keep you still. His thumb finds your clit effortlessly, the ease of it making you moan.

"Think it's time you expand your horizons, cariño. No more boys from now on, yeah?"

You're babbling, agreeing mindlessly, willing to say anything to get what you want.

"You look so gorgeous like this. It's nice to see your attitude in check for a change."

You kiss him again to shut him up, practically begging him to be quiet. As much as his teasing gets under your skin, he's right. This was exactly what you needed.

"Close, baby? Can feel you squeezin' me. Like a fuckin' vice."

You grip at his jacket and pull him into you, resting your forehead on his chest to try and anchor yourself. When he leans down and sucks into the spot under your ear, you're done for.

You find your release embarrassingly quickly, boneless and shaking. Santi talks you through it, murmuring sweetness into your hair.

You pull away and rest against the car, catching your breath. Santi steals a kiss cheekily before smoothing down your skirt and brushing the creases from your shirt.

"Good?"

"Good," you giggle. "Very good."

"Let's get you home, huh?"

He leans past you to open your door, lips brushing your ear.

"My home. I'm not done with you yet, hermosa."

The anticipation makes you shiver.

#santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia imagine #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia #santiago garcia fluff #santiago garcia x reader smut #dadsbestfriend!santiago garcia #dbf!santiago garcia #dbf!santi #dbf!santi smut #dad's best friend santiago garcia #dbf!santiago garcia smut #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader smut #triple frontier x reader #dadsbestfriend!santiago garcia smut

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eyelessfaces · 11 months

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

santiago garcia x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: dirty talk

warnings: reader wears a skirt, exhibitionism kink, public teasing, creampie

word count: 0.9k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Santiago had developed the habit of being the worst kind of tease in public.

He knew it made you slightly embarrassed, not to the point of uncomfortability though; he would never do something that you didn’t feel comfortable with, and he knew you liked playing along, acting like it bothered you when in reality you enjoyed it.

It was rather frequent for his public teasing to resurface, especially at parties like the one you were at at the moment.

It was Benny’s birthday, and his garden was rather crowded, including with people you weren’t familiar with. That fact didn’t particularly bother Santiago, and you both knew it. It actually excited him more to have complete strangers around, so you knew he could be insufferable, and it had already started when everyone started eating and his hand had conveniently settled at your thigh, progressively going higher up under your skirt as he acted completely oblivious and chatted with Frankie across the table.

This was step one, and the day was far from over.

Despite your best efforts to always be surrounded just so he could be annoyed by the fact he wouldn’t be able to tease you, you forgot the game for a second to take another drink in the kitchen, and Santi took advantage of that weakness.

You hadn’t even heard him coming, you only felt his arms wrapping around you when he hugged you from the back, making you jump in surprise, your glass almost slipping from your grip.

“I can’t wait for everyone to go to sleep so I can wreck you” he whispered into your ear as he shifted his position to grind his hard on against your ass, making you bite back a moan.

Goosebumps raised over your skin, your grip tightening over your glass. “Really, I can’t wait, maybe I could take you right here, where anyone could come and see us” he mutters as he puts his hands over the globes of your ass, kneading the tender flesh over your skirt.

“Bet you’d love someone walking in while I pound that pretty pussy” you can hear the teasing tone and the sly smirk in his voice as he raises the piece of cloth, exposing your underwear, a small whine leaving your mouth as you feel air hitting the damp patch between your legs. “Mh?” his hand pushes onto your lower back so you could bend against the counter, and you don’t even put any force to try to stop this – objectively – unreasonable decision.

“Tell me to stop, baby” he whispers, pressing himself over you to speak to your ear, his erection pressing even more firmly against you. You don’t say anything, because you don't want him to stop, and that’s when you hear the sound of his fly before feeling him push your underwear to the side, the feeling of his tip circling your entrance eliciting a small grunt of anticipation coming from your throat.

“Quiet” he murmurs as he gathers the wetness pooling at your folds before progressively inching himself inside you, a low groan escaping his own mouth as he bottoms out and really plunges his cock inside of you.

Benny’s bathroom had already seen its fair share of action from the both of you, but having your way in the kitchen was a whole new experience, no lock and the possibility of everyone and anyone walking in on you at any moment.

Technically, the chances that someone would walk in on you or hear you were low. Everyone was outside, music was blasting and almost every drink was within reach; you only came to the kitchen to get a fresh glass of water.

Now you were gripping onto your filled glass, knuckles turning another color from how hard you were holding onto it while Santi was pounding into you. His rhythm was demanding, restless and a bit desperate; you feel his hands bunching up your skirt, holding onto it tight as the obvious sound of skin on skin resonates in Benny’s open kitchen.

You have no idea what you would actually do if someone walked in while Santiago was taking you, and despite your best efforts to think of a backup plan, you give up on trying to ponder over that subject when Santi’s hand wraps around you and his fingers settle to rub rough circles over your clit.

Your body jolts at the feeling, the glass in your hand being the least of your concern at the moment; it rolls over the counter with a coarse sound as you come, its content spilling in a trail falling to the floor as you writhe under your boyfriend, drips falling beside your feet.

His movements hasten as he helps you ride out your high, seeking his own; he presses himself flush against you, his breath halting as he pumps his seed inside you, your head falling to rest over your extended, numb arms.

You feel him gently ease himself out of you, pull your underwear back over your sensitive cunt.

"Good girl." he smirks as he slaps your ass, smoothing the fabric of your skirt so it could look like no one had ever touched it. “My pretty little slut.” he hands you a kitchen towel, kissing your cheek before leaving, as if nothing had ever happened, like every single time.

No one would ever know what happened here, if it wasn’t for Benny’s high tech fridge having a camera.

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @alexxavicry @grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @luxisluxurious

+ @flightlessangelwings

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia smut #triple frontier #oscar isaac #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #fawkinktober

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pimosworld · 2 months

Text

Only if you catch me

Pairing- Frankie Morales x f!reader

Chapter Summary-You and Frankie have your first official date.

Chapter Warnings- 18+, MDNI, mentions of addiction, angst, fluff, first date jitters, kissing, sexual tension, flirting, Frankie is a gentleman

WC-6.7k

A/N- These two are so sickeningly sweet I can’t stand it. Reader and Frankie have a long way to go but it almost always starts with butterflies. @toobusyshrimping Thank you for the help with the “foot in mouth” line.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 2. Composite

For some people, one slip up means disaster. There is a huge emphasis on not taking that first drink. That first drink can trigger the obsession, the compulsion. The need for more and more.

It took Frankie awhile to find an NA meeting not focused on shame, but healing. A place that didn’t ask you to share something about your week like you were a child. A place that didn’t tell you to be comfortable all the while making you sit on hard metal folding chairs in a cold dingey room.

Soft ambient lighting strategically placed to help you relax, instead of the harsh fluorescent lights like you were being interrogated.

It’s a weekly routine.

One Frankie has grown used to over the last year. From that first day feeling like he was going to crawl out of his skin to now being a regular face amongst the crowd.

His knee no longer bounces nervously as he listens to others talk about their battles with addiction. His hands are steady resting along his thighs instead of worrying at the frayed lines on his shirt.

He’s seated facing the door so he sees Jones enter. The older man looked a little more gray than usual. The worry lines deeper and more evident on his face. His clothes could use an iron and he looks on the tail end of a three day bender…but he’s here.

He gravitates towards him and Frankie offers the open seat.

“Look, I’m sorry about…”

Frankie waves him off, not wanting to do the awkward song and dance. Offers him an easy out and a curt don’t let it happen again.

“I hope your lady wasn’t too upset.”

Thankfully the moderator enters the room to save him from an explanation. His lady. A statement he hadn’t heard in awhile. Obviously way too soon to call you that, but he doesn’t feel like correcting him. He may be getting ahead of himself but he hopes he won’t have to correct him.

Frankie hasn’t felt this way about anyone since her. Somewhere deep down where he shoves every ounce of guilt he thinks he may have never felt this way about her at all.

Bonded by trauma and addiction, he somehow thought what they had was love. He thought they were meant for each other because who could possibly love him and all his fucked up past. He started coming to these meetings with her and then she made excuses as to why she didn’t need them anymore. That was the beginning of the end, when he finally realized that maybe they weren’t as compatible as he thought. Each day he healed his trauma, each day he stayed sober they grew further and further apart.

And then Colombia.

Frankie returned with the boys and no Tom. No amount of money could fix the damage they had all done. Fractured and barely holding on, when he needed her the most she came to him so strung out he didn’t recognize her. The woman he used to love, the woman who had laid her life on the line for them so many times he lost count. He’s glad for her sake that Santi couldn’t find her before Colombia or she might not have made it home.

“Francisco, do you want to share anything new about your week?”

All eyes are on him and he’s not sure how long she’s been trying to get his attention. Judging by the sly way Jones tries to hide his smile behind his hands it’s been a second.

He adjusts his cap on his head, nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Umm, not much to share about this week.”

“That’s okay, we don’t always have to share. I’m just glad to see your face.”

He’s not sure where it comes from as she goes to address the next person. As though he has no control over his body when he begins to clear his throat and she redirects her attention back to him.

“Actually.”

He straightens up a little in his seat, squaring his shoulders back.

“I met someone this week.” He’s met with her pleased smile and a few low whistles. “We have a date this Saturday.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, not usually one to share during meetings but never being pushed too. Something makes him want to open up more. Perhaps it’s you.

“I’m proud of you Francisco. For sharing and for putting yourself out there.”

He knows she’s the only one who keeps track of everyone’s recovery process. He brushed it off six months ago when she informed him that he’s been coming in consistently for a year.

The silent understanding that he’d reached a milestone.

He memorized the pamphlet his first time coming in. The only thing he could focus on while his hands shook and his back sweat.

He scoffed when he first read the part about dating.

Dating too soon can be detrimental to mental health and well-being, and increase the risk of relapse. During early recovery, people are still learning to navigate their new sober lives, and dating can be a distraction or replacement addiction. It can also be difficult to maintain sobriety while dating.

He ignored the advice that first month when Benny needed him as a wingman for a double date. He nearly had a panic attack at the restaurant when his date wouldn’t stop pestering him about his time in the military, what he did for work, does he have any siblings. All the monotonous first date conversations that he should be able to answer but her wine stained lips and suffocating perfume were making it all too much.

For what it was worth Benny felt bad when Frankie ditched the date and drove straight to Will’s house because he didn’t trust himself to be alone.

A year and a half later and you come along. A breath of fresh air

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of introductions, confessions and thoughts of you as he makes his way out to his truck.

****

“I’m not entirely sure why you think I’m gonna be able to help you pick an outfit.”

Your phone is propped up on top of your mirror with a little FaceTime image of your sister in the corner as you twirl around.

“You used to help me pick outfits all the time Dom.”

“Yes but I have no sense of style now. I spend most days in sweats.”

You step out of frame not satisfied with the third outfit you’d tried as you add to the growing pile of clothes on the bed.

“Tell me more about the date and I might be able to help you.” She yells knowing you’ve gone to your closet.You’ve spent the better part of the last hour hoping to find something that doesn’t remind you of him. You really needed to get some new clothes but that would require money you did not have at the moment.

You pull out your dress from your college graduation. A red satin wrap with a low neckline and a flowy skirt. You may have worn it a thousand times but it’s never done you wrong.

“He said we’re going to dinner, he’s picking me up at seven.Those are all the details I have.” You smooth your hands along the soft fabric as you stand in front of the mirror once more. Standing on your tip toes to get a better look you hear a tiny gasp.

“Auntie you look so pwetty.” You can see the top of your nephew's dark curls just peeking out in the frame as your sister props him on her knee.

“Well I think that’s a winner.” Dom says as she tickles her son and he lets out an excited squeal. “Don’t you think so buddy?”

He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“I love red!” He yells and you both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Red is his favorite color.” She ruffles his hair as he slides off her lap, bored with the adults' conversation. “Red is bold?”

“Too bold?”

She holds up her hands as she senses the nervousness in your voice. “I’m just saying it’s refreshing to see this side of you again.”

You fix her with a look already knowing where this conversation is heading. A direction you don’t even want to follow right before a date.

“Don’t think I don’t recognize that dress, I haven’t seen you wear it since that party.”

“Dom.” Your voice in a low warning.

“I hated the way he spoke to you and then you never wore it again.”

“Please don’t start.” Your voice trembles as you move out of frame, hastily untying the knot in the dress.

“Come back please, I’m not trying to start a fight!”

You know deep down she’s just being a concerned sister. You’ve been working on this particular trigger with your therapist. Not being able to sense when someone is helping and when someone is judging.

You let out a shaky breath as you grab the phone from the mirror, plopping down amongst the clothes on your bed. A stray tear rolling down your cheek as you see her moving through her house to a quiet room.

“Listen please….I love you and I just want what’s best for you. Don’t shut me out again because it nearly killed us both last time.”

You close your eyes as you listen intently to your sister's words. Trying desperately to shove down the thoughts you’ve kept at bay for the better part of a year.

“I’m not mom okay. I’m not judging you, I just want my sister back. I want that person back who wore the red dress. I want the person back who snuck out with me and got a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday.” She’s crying now and it’s just occurred to you that it’s been ages since you’ve seen her cry. “I want the sister who forged moms signature so she could go skydiving.”

You both let out a guttural laugh when you remember how livid she was at the both of you.

“I saw a glimpse of her the other day when you called me to talk about the job…and just now when you put on that dress.”

You're grateful you still have hours to go before Frankie comes to get you as you wipe the mess on your face and smile back at your sister.

“Jesus Dom, I’ll wear the damn dress. You didn’t need to make me cry.”

She’s smiling ear to ear as she wipes the tears from her face and you both let out wet laughs.

“Call me when you get home please.”

“You know I will. Tell Elise I said hi and tell Casey I love him and thanks for the vote of confidence.”

You hang up the phone and lay in your pile of clothes a little while longer just thinking about what your sister said. She was right. She was always right.

****

6:45 pm

Frankie sits outside your quaint apartment building not wanting to head up too early.

You live on the top floor, which is definitely the safer option for someone like you living alone. The complex isn’t gated and that makes him uneasy.

Anyone can just walk up to your doorstep.

He did notice security driving around which is nice, but security guards are a dime a dozen and they can’t really protect you from much.

It is one of the nicer neighborhoods in town, close to schools and a police station just down the road.

But when do the police ever show up in time.

He can tell he’s obsessing but he can’t really help himself. He is not really sure why he’s even so concerned about these things when it comes to you. He just met you and you’ve lived on your own successfully without him. He doesn’t need to swoop in and save you. In the words of his therapist, you don’t have to be in protective mode all the time.

Easier said than done.

In the time he’s spent scoping out your living situation five minutes have passed. He figures that should give him enough time to head upstairs and only arrive five minutes early. He checks his hair once more in the rear view mirror not totally loving how it looks without his hat but deciding not to fidget with it anymore. He grabs the bouquet of red roses that he thought too hard over at the florist thinking maybe it was too cliche but at her insistence on how romantic of a gesture it was decided to go for it.

****

6:45 pm

You’ve been standing in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom for the last ten minutes trying to decide on a shoe. You texted your sister and she was no help telling you to go for something wild yet sensible. Those two things could not be more opposite. You didn’t want to go too fancy just in case this was a casual restaurant, but what if it was a really nice restaurant and you decided on a sandal?

You were definitely overthinking this.

You silently curse to yourself knowing you were running out of time and you can’t really go on a date barefoot when you remember some strappy low heels you bought for a wedding awhile ago. Perfectly cute and sensible all at once.

You throw them on and give yourself one last look before you glance at your vanity table. The red lipstick you went back and forth over practically mocking you with the cap off.

I want the person back who wore the red dress.

Your sister's words echoing in the back of your mind.

Fuck it.

You hold the tube in your hand as your fingers tremble slightly. You stare down at the vibrant, fiery hue in stark contrast to your normal understated palette. With a deep breath you carefully apply, the texture smooth and crisp against your lips. When you first take a step back and look, the color is so striking it feels foreign.

It’s also exhilarating and cliche that some red lipstick is giving you this huge boost of confidence.

You grab a black leather purse hanging from your closet door opting to forgo your usual tote bag for something a little nicer. You tuck the lipstick, your phone and a little wallet inside leaving just enough room for Andy. Your sister would probably have your neck for bringing your camera on a date but it was your comfort blanket at the moment and you weren’t ready to let go of it.

A heavy knock on your door and you take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table.

****

6:55 pm

He knocks once and winces at the loud sound that echoes against the cheap wood. His hands are sweating against the plastic wrapped around the flowers and he hopes he’s not this rusty the rest of the night.

When you greet him at the door he’s sure his heart stops for a few seconds. It’s entirely unexpected, his reaction and his complete underestimation of what he thought you would look like. He knew you were beautiful when he first saw you in the gym but this. This has him questioning everything.

The red.

Your dress and your lips. It’s Pavlovian the way he wants to sink his teeth into them. If this is you then he’s a goner.

“Frankie…do you want to come in?”

“Oh shit…sorry. Ya, these are for you.” He practically shoves the roses at you and thankfully you laugh at his fumbling. He’s not sure how long he stood there gawking at you.

“Why don’t you come in so I can put these in some water.” He’s following the scent of you like a cartoon Pepe le pew through your quaint apartment.

You fumble around the kitchen cabinets looking for a vase as he takes in the space. It already feels a lot more warm and inviting than his five bedroom house that seems like a void of endless drab furniture.

Little hints of you everywhere, a shelf with vintage cameras lined up. An odd shaped purple suede couch in the middle of the room, your coffee table looks like an old door with legs on it, plants hung in any available window. A picture of you with a little baby on the wall along with some of the most vivid scenery shots he’s ever seen. Another picture with a woman who closely resembles you and an older man on what looks like your graduation day, wearing this dress.

“I know I have a lot of…eclectic things.” You say as he turns to you. You’ve somehow trimmed and arranged the roses in the time it’s taken him to inspect your space.

“Is that a pitcher?”

“I mean…technically yes, but it’s serving as my vase since I don’t receive flowers much.”

He hums in disbelief because how could a woman like you not receive flowers just for merely existing.

He doesn’t even know if you realize you’re smiling behind the bouquet. A perfect blend of red that you serve as the backdrop. He takes out his phone and boldly takes a picture.

You squint your eyes at him because he has his sound on.

“Francisco.” Your voice drops an octave dripping all syrupy sweet.

He surely won’t make it with you saying his name like that.

“Yes, that is my name.”

“Did you take my picture?” Hands on your hips and your tongue on your canine.

“Maybe? I get the feeling you’re behind the camera too much.”

You laugh as though it’s some inside joke because it is really. Your sister is always pestering you to be in the photo. But that leaves someone out and it might as well be you.

“Can I see?” You move towards him and place your hand on his arm and he’s tempted to let you. He could read lips if they were yours as he repeats them back to himself.

He places his phone in his pocket and watches as your eyes flit briefly to where it disappeared.

“Not tonight.”

Some other time

You’re not so bold to reach in and see for yourself. You’re so close to him now you can feel his body heat and if this is what weak in the knees feels like then you’re certainly that. It takes every fiber of your being to remove your hand from his arm.

He misses the warmth immediately as you step back but the look on your face shows a sign of that shy girl from the other night.

“Should we?” You gesture to the door. “I don’t want to miss a reservation.”

“No reservations needed. I know the owner of the restaurant.”

You raise your eyebrows and he didn’t mean for it to come out so cocky. “I hope you like Italian.” He changes the subject hoping to avoid the awkwardness that he’s let fall over the room.

“Points for you since that’s my favorite.” You reach for his hand as he leads you out and as you lock up your apartment you have to remind yourself that he’s not your ex. The man who knows the owner, the man who decides what you eat and drink, the man who didn’t care less what you wanted as long as you didn’t embarrass him.

****

If he notices your shift in demeanor he says nothing. It’s easy to relax around Frankie and you notice yourself slipping into a peaceful routine with him. When he opens your door and helps you into the truck. When he instinctively grabs your hand as he drives, you notice his signature cap left at home for your date as his hair blows in the wind.

This doesn’t feel like a first date.

This feels like something you do all the time. Like you fit right into some imaginary puzzle piece in his life. He’s humming some tune under his breath and you’re feeling a little more bold as your fingers lace with his.

You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye as you look out the window at the familiar surroundings. He likes the way you look next to him, in his truck and something bubbles to the surface that he has to push down to not scare you away too soon.

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.” You glance over at him as his large hand grips the steering wheel. “I was thinking it real hard but the words never came out.”

“I was thinking something similar myself.”

He notes that low timber in your voice when you compliment him. It takes everything in him to keep his eyes on the road.

“I was hoping I wasn’t too overdressed.” You say apprehensively as he pulls into a small parking lot.

“Baby for where we’re going you’re perfectly dressed.”

You don’t have time to even react to the pet name when you see the restaurant come into view as he parks directly in front.

“Frankie, this place is impossible to get a reservation. Trust me I tried and failed when my sister was in town visiting me.”

He smirks as he opens and closes the drivers side door leaving you momentarily to saunter around and open yours.

He holds his hand out to help you down and gently grabs your waist in the other. “Make sure to let me know next time she’s in town.”

“Okay.” You say a little breathlessly as his large hand engulfs yours and he guides you towards the entrance.

****

“Morales for two.”

“Right this way Mr. Morales.” The Maitre d’ leads the way dressed in a tailored suit with a vest and small black bow tie.

The interior is breathtaking as you make your way through the ornate hallway. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden light over the crisp white linens. There’s plush, crushed velvet and intricate woodwork furniture throughout.The walls are adorned with tapestries and the scent of fresh herbs and garlic wafts from the kitchen.

You’ve noticed the entire night Frankie has been sure to walk behind you or beside you. Something you didn’t even realize in your previous relationship was a courtesy you weren’t afforded. Always being pulled along or left behind. His hand is warm, placed gently on your back as you pass by other well-dressed couples engaged in intimate conversations. Their voices a soft murmur against the backdrop of classical music playing somewhere in the distance.

You’re both ushered toward a secluded corner of the restaurant, away from the bustling dining room. Your breath catches as you take in the scene before you. A small path opens up to a hidden courtyard, bathed in a soft glow of candlelight. Ivy climbs gracefully up the old stonewalls. A table set for two is adorned with empire candles and one single rose.

Frankie’s eyes are on you, a mix of nervousness and pride etched across his face. He’s clearly pleased with your reaction and he chuckles to himself as he takes in the romantic setting his friend arranged just for this moment.

“I hoped you’d like it.” Frankie says, his voice a soft murmur as he pulls out your chair.

“Like it! Frankie, are you serious? This is incredible.”

He smiles at your reaction as he takes his place across from you. The tenderness in his gesture, the thoughtfulness of the setting-it all makes your heart flutter. This isn’t just a date. It’s a memory in the making, and his effort to impress you is overwhelming in the best way possible.

****

“Frankie I have to say the website photos do not do this place justice.”

The laugh that erupts from his chest catches you off guard briefly. “The owner was being cheap-.”

“Cheap!” A familiar voice sounds from behind you as the gorgeous man you recognize from Benny's fight strolls over to your table. His hair is slicked back showing off his perfect bone structure. Slight salt and pepper stubble across his face. Dressed in all black and the first two buttons undone to show off his tan chest.

Frankie stands from the table and embraces the man in a tight hug. He whispers something you don’t quite catch before turning to you with a wide smile.

“Hi, I’m Santiago.” He holds out his hand for you and to your surprise kisses the top of your outstretched hand. “Fish whisked you away before I had a chance to introduce myself the other day.”

“Fish?”

“That is exactly why I whisked her away.” Frankie says through gritted teeth.

Santiago holds his hands up in apology. “Sorry, I mean Francisco.”

The waiter appears with a pitcher of water and pours for the table as Santiago instructs him to bring a bottle of sparkling when he returns with the bread.

“So I hear you’re quite the photographer, I could use your help.”

“Pope.” Frankie eyes him in warning.

You reach across the table and take Frankie’s hand in yours. “It’s fine really.”

Santiago’s eyes on your joined hands and a knowing smirk on his face.

“I would love to take some photos for your website. They really are quite awful.” You say honestly.

“Well I took them myself so…”

You unconsciously grimace and it’s equal parts comical and painful to look at as you palm your face. “I’m so sorry.”

Both men are laughing before you can continue your apology.

“No hard feelings, cariño. I’m a big boy and can take some criticism. This guy on the other hand.” He pats Frankie on the back. “Go easy on him for me.”

A look of gratitude passes between them and Santiago steps back as the waiter reappears.

He claps his hands. “I’ll leave you two love birds to enjoy. I have a very special meal planned for the evening so I hope you’re hungry.”

He turns to leave but not before Frankie speaks.

“Gracias hermano realmente aprecio todo.”

“Para ti cualquier cosa.”

****

The conversation between you and Frankie flowed easily as each course was presented to you. Per Santiago’s instruction the waiter presented each dish to you in great detail.

First Course: Antipasti Deliziosi

The evening begins with an elegant spread of antipasti, served on a polished wooden platter. The colorful assortment included thinly sliced prosciutto, delicate burrata cheese drizzled with balsamic reduction, and an array of marinated olives, artichoke hearts, and sun-dried tomatoes.

Frankie tells you a little about his time in the military with the boys. After a brief explanation that because of some private government contracts they all did very well for themselves after the service. Of course your curiosity was peaked at the thought of Benny and Will owning their own gym and Santiago owning the most popular restaurant in town. Frankie had casually mentioned at your first encounter that he owned a private helicopter business. None of these men came off as self centered or what you would consider avaricious so it was refreshing to see such successful men be so humble.

Albeit very intimidating that you struggled most months to pay your bills and your savings was almost at nothing after a year of being here. You quickly steered the conversation away from that topic which made you uncomfortable because of your previous relationship. You didn’t want to come off as some kind of gold digger.

Second Course: Risotto ai Frutti di Mare

The second course featured a luxurious risotto with a medley of seafood—plump shrimp, tender scallops, and mussels. The creamy, saffron-infused risotto, complemented by a hint of lemon zest. Between forkfuls, Frankie shares anecdotes about his most memorable helicopter flights, while you told him( sparing some of the not so pretty details) of your spontaneous move just a year ago.

He listens intently to you talk about trying to work when you first arrived but it being too overwhelming. You briefly mention therapy and for that he’s grateful he doesn’t have to be ashamed to talk about his struggles after leaving the military. There’s no judgment in your eyes when he talks about those meetings that saved his life.

First date feels inappropriate and a little too heavy to mention ex’s so you both stay far away from that topic.

You don’t mention your sobriety so he doesn’t push.

You talk about finally taking that step and reaching out to Will for the shoot and he can’t help but shake his head on the timing of it all.

Third Course: Filetto di Manzo con Salsa

For the third course, the table is graced with a perfectly cooked filet mignon, its tender surface glazed with butter and rich red tomato purée . Accompanied by truffle mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus.

You’re beaming when you open up to him about some future projects you want to work on and the need to get back into weddings since those were your favorite.

He may know some people that are seeking you out for just that but he won’t spoil the surprise.

All of the normal first date questions that would usually bore him to death seem to feel different when he’s with you. The way you look in his eyes makes him feel like he’s floating. He’s sure you don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking or the way you moan after trying the first bite of each course.

Your knee keeps brushing his under the table but it’s comforting when you don’t pull away.

Dessert: Tiramisu Classico

The evening concludes with a classic tiramisu—layers of espresso-soaked ladyfingers, creamy mascarpone, and a dusting of cocoa powder.

Once the waiter disappears, and since he’s feeling a little bold he takes your fork and a small piece. Holding it out for you as you wrap your still red lips around it and let out the most sinful sound he’s ever heard.

Worth it.

You take his fork and serve up a slightly larger piece and do your best to lean as he meets you halfway. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when he takes a bite.

Without thinking you reach across with your finger. “You’ve got.” And swipe the cream from the corner of his lip. Boldly licking the remnants as you watch something flash in his eyes.

“Frankie. I don’t know how you’re gonna top this.”

He watches you take another bite. “Oh I’m sure I can think of a few things.” He finally managed to say after he composed himself. “In fact, if you’re not afraid of heights I definitely have some ideas.”

You sit back and clutch your chest. “Oh I would love to meet Lucy.”

He chuckles as he looks at you and wonders where the hell you’ve been hiding.

****

Santiago of course waited until you were finished to get your opinion and say his goodbyes. Frankie suggested you walk in the small park across from the restaurant. With a little push from Santi, the name he preferred you call him since Santiago was my father as he put it.

It was a short walk to the park.

You and Frankie strolled along the winding path encircling a small pond. The sun was already set but the sky still had those remnants of dusty pink and purple as the last rays bounced off the surface of the water.

You love the way he instinctively takes your hand and he thinks it’s almost too perfect the way it fits in his. Like they had been designed for each other. The both of you walk in a comfortable silence exchanging glances as you stare at his profile and laugh to yourself.

“Something funny hermosa?”

“You never told me about the nickname.” You say matter of factly and he just sighs.

Instinctually rubbing his hands along his jaw as he stops walking and you face him. “It’s better now but. I couldn’t grow a beard to save my life.” You laugh and he crowds your space. “The guys said I had whiskers like a catfish.”

He raises his eyebrows as you hide your smile behind your hand. “I like it.” You say softly as you reach out, grazing your finger over the small spaces still missing some hair. His eyes close for just a moment and he leans into your touch.

He’s so close you can feel his breath fan across your face and it would be so perfect if he just-

“You wouldn’t happen to have Andy in your bag by chance?”

It takes you a moment to register what he’s said instead of kissing you.

“What? I mean yes…um ya I do. Why?” Sounding more flustered than you want as he places his hands on your shoulders and slowly turns you around.

You stifle a gasp as you see a man across the pond getting down on one knee and the camera is out of your bag before you can blink.

You can see the woman as she covers her mouth in shock. Her excited squeals echoing over the water and it couldn’t be a more perfect backdrop.

Frankie’s hands haven’t left you as his thumbs rub circles on your shoulder and he steals peaks of the photos when you take a moment to make sure the shots are just right. Adjusting the zoom on a few and grateful you don’t need the flash with just enough natural light left over.

Frankie watches you work and he’s just in awe of how you can capture the moment so well. You’re quiet and methodical in your approach and the juxtaposition of you moments ago makes his head spin. It’s like when he’s flying and everything else just shuts off around him and he can only focus on the controls and the shifts.

He watches as the couple embraces and for the first time he thinks that’s something he wants. He’d spent so much time with his ex and that thought never once crossed his mind.

“We should head over before they leave so I can show them.” It’s all rushed out in a hurry as you grab his hand and pull him along the path.

He can’t help but laugh at your pure joy as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

He hangs back a little as you show the couple the photos. Your hands animatedly flailing to match the woman’s as she jumps up and down. The man looks over to him briefly and Frankie flashes him a thumbs up in congratulations. A man not much younger than him and he has his whole life to look forward to with this woman.

****

“Oh my god, she thought he hired me.” Your voice comes out louder than you expected. As he glances over to you in the passenger seat looking through the photos. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He clears his throat but keeps his eyes on the road. “I love watching you work.”

“It doesn’t feel like work for moments like that.”

“Hmm…ya I know what you mean.”

His free hand resting on your thigh, you don’t think he’s gone the entire night without touching you and you don’t mind at all. He’s so grounding in a way you’ve never experienced before.

The soft glow of the street lights are filtering in through the window as he pulls into your parking lot. That familiar tension is starting to settle into your chest at the thought of saying goodbye or at the prospect of Frankie being disappointed that you’re not quite ready for that next step.

Frankie notices you’ve gone quiet in the seat next to him as he puts the truck in park. “Everything okay hermosa?” Suddenly feeling a little apprehensive.

“Oh ya it’s fine…everything is fine.” He could tell by your tone it was most certainly not and he was starting to wonder if he’d done something to make you uncomfortable.

He turns towards you, his hand resting on the seat next to you now. “I had a really great time tonight.” Frankie says, his voice steady and sincere.

Your cheeks grow hot as you avoid his intense gaze. “Me too. It’s been…really nice.”

There’s a brief pause and you can feel that unspoken question lingering in the air. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your dress trying to gauge his reaction. “So,um, would you like to come up for coffee or something?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Frankie’s expression softened as the realization set in. “You don’t have to invite me up if you’re not ready. I want you to feel comfortable.” He takes your hand again forcing you to meet his deep brown eyes. “Just because we had a great dinner doesn’t mean you owe me anything. Or anyone for that matter.”

You exhale a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? Frankie…I really like you, but it feels too soon.” You turn to look away but he gently grabs your chin.

“Of course I’m sure. We can take things at your pace.”

Your pace

His eyes flit to your lips briefly as he retreats his hand. You stop him and grab his wrist hoping you didn’t send the wrong message. Your heart flutters as he leans in and you meet him halfway. Your lips meet in a tender kiss. You could taste the sweet remnants of dessert and the warmth of his breath. It’s intoxicating as his hands drift to your waist and despite the awkward angle you find yourself impossibly closer to him.

Frankie has never felt like this before. Your hands drift to his hair and a deep growl erupts from his chest and he’s starting to question what your pace is as the kiss starts to get intense. It’s one of those kisses that has him questioning every one that came before you.

You break apart for a second and rest your forehead on his trying to catch your breath. You had to remind yourself for what felt like the hundredth time, that you needed to be patient.

“How about I walk you upstairs? Just to make sure you get there safely.”

All you can manage is a nod. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

You both exited the car in silence. Your fingers brushing occasionally, sending small sparks through you. When you finally make it to your door he turns you to face him. His hands around the back of your neck as he leans in for one more kiss. This one much softer as the last still lingers on your lips.

“Tonight was really special.” His voice full of gratitude.

“Thank you Frankie.” You whisper against his lips, unable to pull away. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.” He says pulling back slightly, but keeping his hands on you. “I’ll call you soon okay?”

If he doesn’t leave now he probably never will.

“Okay.” You laugh breathlessly as you wipe the evidence of lipstick from his face.

You have to let him go or you’ll end up eating your words and inviting him in. He’s backing away slowly as you turn to open your door. You can feel him watching you as you close the door behind you and lean against it, finally letting the breath out of your lungs.

You can feel your phone buzzing in your purse.

Glancing down to see Frankie’s name light up on the screen.

“Have you even left the parking lot?” You hear his heavy breathing and a huff of laughter.

“I told you I'd call you soon.” He teased as the sound of his truck door closing echoes in your ear.

“A man of his word.” You reply as you walk through your apartment stripping yourself of your shoes and untying your dress.

“So…what are you doing?” A hint of mischief in his voice.

“Frankie.”

“I’m just kidding.” He pauses briefly as you hear the truck roar to life wishing you were still sitting passenger. “If you’re free this Friday-“

“I am!” You hold the phone away cursing under your breath for sounding so eager.

“Good, it’s a date.”

You hang up and take in your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your lips stained a pretty hue of pink now that the red has been kissed off. Your fingers brush them slightly and you know that Francisco Morales has your heart in his hands.

Hopefully for your sake he treats it with care.

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for-a-longlongtime · 4 months

Text

Catch That Buzz

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x nonbinary!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 Warnings/tags: Smoking (cigarettes, cannabis), fingering, hair pulling (m), biting (m), PiV, oral (reader receiving). Characters are bisexual 💖💜💙, on PrEP + birth control. Reader is nb + AFAB (assigned female at birth), had top surgery. Mention of scars. No use of pronouns, reader has a clit and ‘folds’, gets wet, no further genitalia descriptors. Word count: 1079

A/N: This suddenly happened, inspired by @sin-djarin‘s and @lotusbxtch‘s input, and with thanks to @perotovar! Casually written format, based on the gifs below. This is for @romanarose‘s Oscar & Pedro Characters Fic Pride event; please go check out the other stories and send in your own! Dividers by @saradika.

Young Santi, pre-Army days or on leave - idk make it work in your mind, time is irrelevant.

but

The way Santi would have YOU light that cigarette for him after you’ve fucked, just to see if your hands could hold it steady enough. And if it does - well then he hasn’t done a good enough job, according to him.

He'd take a drag of the cigarette and then pull you to sit on his lap, slipping his free hand between your thighs. "C’mon, baby. Ride it for me," stroking you before he slips two fingers inside.

He would finger you to orgasm at least once, probably twice, while he smokes that cigarette. Then depending on his mood - e.g. a lazy Saturday or Sunday would be perfect - he may even light up a joint, shot gunning you as he keeps you in his lap, sitting against his hardening dick. Just slow slow rocking and rubbing against each other, kissing as you're both getting hazy from the weed.

It’s always good to kiss him, but even more so when you’re this relaxed, because he kisses you like *that*, devouring you, slow and easy, while you can’t stop your fingers from playing with those beautiful curls. Soft groans slipping from his lips when he finally breaks your kiss, baring his neck as he tips his head back and you tug a little harder at his curls.

“Malo…”, he warns you, his hands stroking your chest; gently over your scars as always, then a little rougher to tease your nipples until they’re hard. So you taunt him back, tugging his hair just a little harder as you grind yourself against him, still so wet from when he fingered you earlier. You don’t know which strain of weed he tends to buy, but it always makes you so horny despite - or maybe because - everything seems to move so slowly.

It takes a little longer than usual to get him hard when he’s high, but that’s no problem, because one of the perks is that he’s more inclined to let you take charge. And you like it - love it, really - when you push him down on his back and he holds his cock like that, jerking himself off as he gives you a heated look. He whimpers so pretty when you first only let your folds brush over his leaking head, teasing him some more just because you can, and you love that slightly strung out look in his eyes as you sink down on him, he’s always unable to tear his glance away from how you engulf him.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers as he rocks his hips up into you, never one to lay back idly even when you’re riding him like this. But when you pull his hands away from your hips and bring them up above his head, leaning down to kiss him as you hold him pinned against the bed - even though you both know it would take no effort for him to break free -, his breathing will stutter so beautifully.

He tries to hold back, slow down his thrusts into you, but he loves it when you take him like this - when you take what you want from him, and as your hand slides into his curls again, his eyes will flash dark with need and a wordless question. Because despite how soft and hazy and slow everything is like this, you know what it is he wants in that moment.

He moans when you sink your teeth into his shoulder, his breathing growing even heavier, and then that loud hiss you love so much when you tug at his curls. "Fuck me harder, baby," he pants and you do so, tightening your heat around his cock when you bite his other shoulder, curling your fingers just a little more around his locks. Only then you tug *hard* to really make it hurt - the way that makes his breathing stutter so rapidly and desperately in his chest, tears glistering in his eyes from how his scalp stings.

He arches up under you, just like you do when he holds you down and fucks you like this, and when you keep him pressed down and lick his neck, whispering "Come for me, pretty boy" he cries out hard, pumping his seed into you as he stammers your name.

You like to keep him on edge as he tries to catch his breath, tell him to keep his eyes on you as you sit back up and touch yourself while keeping him inside, even as he's softening. He always obeys, dark eyes fixed on you, biting his lower lip which makes it look even more plush than usual. You don't even need to tell him to do so, but you like ordering him around at times like this, particularly because of the eagerness sparking in his eyes to listen like the good soldier he was trained to be.

He loves watching you get yourself off, the way you'll lean back to give him the best view as you spread yourself open for him, your fingers on your clit brushing down every now and then to stroke him where you two are still joined. You know he's bordering on being overstimulated, and that there's only so far you can push him like this, but it's worth it.

Worth seeing the unabashed desire in his eyes like this even though he has already come. Worth hearing him gasp when you tighten yourself around him as you come, but most definitely worth the way he stares at how you move up to let him slip out of you. Because the way his jaw drops without fail when he watches his cum leak out of you, his body nearly shaking at the sight of it - it is priceless -, until he then moves up with a growl and will push you down on your back, not coming up for air until he's eaten his spend out of you and you've come on his tongue, now feeling just as overstimulated as he is.

You taste yourself on his tongue when he moves up to kiss you, and as you’re both struggling to keep your eyes open from exhaustion and the weed, you know there will be plenty left - for him, for you, for anything - of the weekend once you wake up again.

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ivystoryweaver · 2 months

Note

hi ivy!!!!

congratulations on the anniversary, I think you’re doing amazing and I’m really impressed with the frequency at which you put out stories

Could you please write me some thing super soft with Santi? That’s my baby. Maybe something smut but loving and communication, ys know, LaL style

love you

When You Come Back Home

"But on really good days, you get a picture of him."

Awww hey bb, you are so sweet. ILY! The muse has been kind lately - you know it ebbs and flows, so it's always nice to catch up. (Until I went on vacation, that is)

Yes ofc Santi is your baby, I'm so honored you trust me to write something soft, especially mentioning the amazing LAL! Leather and Lace is sooo good and you're a genius at world building.

Word Count: 3.9k

Santiago x f!reader, fluff, married life, flirting, dirty talk, lingerie, oral, fingering, p in v, language, absolute smitten husband!Santiago

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Gazing listlessly out the window, you idly pass your off day, waiting for word from your husband. Despite the ease electronic communication provides you, Santiago writes you letters, and sends polaroids. It may be the thing you love about him most - he wants you to have something tangible when he's not there to hold you, kiss you and gaze into your eyes.

Your collection of polaroids covers the side of the fridge, top to bottom, the bulletin board behind your bedroom door, you have a few on the bathroom mirror and even a couple in your car. Most of them tell the story, through scenery, of each and every place he's visited or worked.

But on really good days, you get a picture of him.

Santiago practically vibrates with energy - always on the move, ready for a mission or an adventure. When he's home, he inevitably takes on a project, hosts an entertaining barbecue, whisks you away to a special trip, and his stamina is no less vigorous when he gets you alone, between the sheets.

The mail truck rumbles around the corner onto your street, nudging you out of idleness. You rise to your feet, ready to collect the mail the moment the truck pulls up to the next driveway. Your bare feet hit the sizzling Florida pavement, hurrying you toward your destination.

But there is no letter, not today.

Slightly deflated, you rush back inside, grateful as the air conditioning kisses your skin. That's the thing about snail mail: it's unpredictable, which makes receiving it such a delight. Oh well, at least you'll be able to see your husband's face later when he calls.

Shuffling to the kitchen, you pour yourself some fruit infused water, rolling your eyes at how quickly the Florida heat can parch your throat.

Then you hear the front door open. The voice of your husband almost makes you drop your glass.

"Oh my god, Santi!" You screech, rounding the corner and flying into his waiting arms.

"Heyyy, mi cielo," he breathes against your ear as he holds you close. He's not a tall man, but he's a solid wall of strength - his forearms flexing along the curve of your back as he molds your body to his.

"How...are you here?" You gasp, sinking your fingers into the thickness of his salt and pepper curls.

"Home early," he states the obvious. "Missed you too much." His mouth chases after yours, tasting your soft lips one at a time. The heat of his breath melts you in his embrace, and it occurs to you that this experience far surpasses a new Polaroid.

"Let me take you out tonight, bebécita," he hums against your mouth between kisses. "Got you something pretty to wear."

You assume he's brought you a dress, but it's something much more...shiny.

"Don't ask me where it came from. I don't think you want to know," he cryptically warns, earthy eyes sparkling with a playful glimmer.

"Please tell me there were no drug lords involved," you half joke as he fastens a gorgeous diamond bracelet around your wrist. "Florida is way too close to all that shit."

"No drug lords. I promise." He grins, kissing your mouth for good measure.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Music pulses, colorful lights flash - the tang of alcohol fills the air. Santiago's hips move expertly to a familiar tune, the Spanish lyrics energizing the delicious Bachata he leads. You gladly follow, feeling success as a dancer, simply by matching his movement and energy.

Spinning you a few extra times to show you off, Santi grins as you laugh delightedly. You tend to recharge with alone time, but your husband needs this - friends, fun and some sort of action. You gladly give it to him, knowing that when he gets you home, you will have him all to yourself for days on end, with no one to disrupt your bubble.

“Mi cielo," he cinches you tightly against him, the shift of his hips pulsing against yours, urging you to drag him by the collar to a dark corner. "Ready to go?"

You know he's not ready. But he checks in with you, just to be sure, to give you an out.

"Already tired after one dance, Garcia?" You tease, syncing the movement of his body with your own, the motion honestly a tad scandalous for the dance floor. "Thought you wanted to show me off tonight. Me and this mysterious bracelet."

He smiles brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight as he dips you and finishes the song with a flourish - trumpets wailing as the bongos boom out a fantastic finale.

"They're good," you huff out breathlessly, motioning toward the live band on the stage.

He nods, leading you by the hand toward the bar as the band eases into the next dance - a merengue.

The night goes on this way, with a generous amount of alcohol, a group of your best friends and a few sensational slow dances that have you desperate to get him alone.

During one particularly smooth Rumba, he kisses a trail down the side of your neck, the tequila lowering his inhibitions to a scandalous level. "Ready now, Señora Garcia?" He smoothly husks, working his lips over yours and stealing your breath as his hips once again swirl into yours.

"Si, mi amor," you gush back to him, noticing the sparkle of your bracelet as he leads you outside by the hand.

A ride share carries you safely home, but Santi's long, dextrous fingers have already temptingly edged under the hem of your shirt, anxious for the caress you both crave.

"Behave yourself," you teasingly admonish, swatting his hand away even as he nibbles on your neck, his breath ghosting your skin.

"Can't wait to get you out of this and underneath me," he rumbles on your ear, linking his fingers with yours, simply because there is nowhere else he can put them without earning another stare from the rearview mirror.

"Hey," you whisper, returning the favor by breathing hotly, making him shiver with want. "What makes you think I won't be on top?"

He growls, gripping your chin with his free hand and opening his mouth over yours - the heat of his tongue setting you on fire. You forget, for a few heavenly moments, that you're in the car with a complete stranger.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Stumbling through the front door like teenagers, your husband can't help but manhandle you, shutting the door dramatically before pushing you up against it - his strong hands gripping your hips as he touches his forehead to yours.

"How uncomfortable did we make that driver?" He jokes between lingering kisses to your lips.

"Don't worry, I gave him a good tip," You remind him, locking your wrists behind his neck and arching against him temptingly.

You carry on this way, endlessly kissing, caressing, bodies craving contact at every point. Santi hooks your thigh around his own, thrusting slowly up into the center of you as his free hand slips back underneath your top. “You really wanna do this here, bebécita?” He whispers between kisses.

Santiago is in amazing shape and you’re stupidly in love with him, but gone are the years of sneaking around for wild quickies against doors. Still…it’s tempting.

“Maybe not,” you smile against his lips. “Got something new for you too. Why don’t I go change?”

“Mmm, okay.” Although he agrees, he squeezes your hips, shifting up to rock against you with renewed vigor, lips trailing across your jaw to suck a mark into the flesh of your neck.

“God, baby…” you pant, meeting his thrusts eagerly, dizzy and euphoric from the alcohol and the dancing…and him.

“Missed you so much.” He clambers through the fog of his own lust and pulls you into a protective embrace, helping you stand up straight, so he can take you upstairs, as you requested.

But the world has spun off its axis tonight, and as he takes you by the hand once more, the way he loves to do, you find yourself stumbling down with him on the staircase, giggling like you did when you were younger - when he took your virginity and made you fall in love with him.

“Shit, sorry,” he half apologizes, his legs falling open as you drape your body over his, your thighs spreading wide across his lap.

“Told you I’d be on top,” you cheekily toy with him, shifting your aching core to rub over his obvious erection.

“Fuck…honey,” he growls, done with all the teasing and flirting. He pushes hungry hands under your shirt, feeling you up as his lips chase yours. As his tongue rolls over yours, he moans into your mouth when he feels the softness of your bra. You wore his favorite - the black lace with touches of emerald green satin. He bought it for you overseas - the biggest surprise of all being that he got the right size in a beautiful bra that’s actually comfortable and supportive.

But that’s how Santiago is: observant, beautiful, comfortable, supportive and sexy. Weird to have a bra remind you of your stunning husband but well…

He all but tears the shirt over your head, restraining himself only enough to keep from pulling or otherwise messing up your hair. Santiago is an expert at you. He knows when to push or pull or lead or follow - when to be rough or test your boundaries, and when to protect you and love you softly.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he rumbles, hands reverently steadying you on top of him by your soft shoulders, before he drags them down to cup your lace covered tits. You arch into his expert touch, slowly rocking in his lap, putting on a little show for him.

You’ve changed over the years. Your body naturally isn’t what it was the first time he took you. But Santiago never ceases to make you feel prized and adored and so beautiful. He makes you believe it somehow, even when you silently criticize yourself in the mirror.

So you let him adore you - you’re safe with him as he touches you all over, worshipping your curves and soft, plush places.

“I love you so much,” you breathe out as he nudges at your stomach, attempting to get you to lift up so he can take off your pants.

“Love you too, baby. But I’ll love you more when you’re naked.”

You snort at his cheesy forwardness, realizing he’s a bit more horny while you’re swooning with romance. You are on the stairs, after all. But he’s determined, rolling you beside him and yanking at fabric until you’re bare from the waist down. So much for the matching cheeky panties.

You forget to care that he didn’t mention them when he spreads your legs wide and drags his knuckles through your wet heat. The overexposure you feel dwindles away as he leans over to brush open-mouthed kisses against your stomach. Steadying yourself, you push your fingers through his curls. “This isn’t fair, babe. You’re still completely dressed.”

Peering up at you through endlessly long lashes, he smirks. “I don’t need to be naked to eat you out.”

“Santi,” you gasp in mock surprise, as he quickly and tauntingly kisses a trail down to your core. “What has gotten into you?”

He grins. "That a trick question? Oh shit - "

You watch him wince in pain. "Knees?"

He groans, nodding. "Knees."

"Come here, Papacito," you tease, climbing to your feet and offering him your hand.

The sight of you standing above him on the stairs, naked except for your bra and a sparkling bracelet quickly convinces him to follow.

You rush ahead of him to your bedroom, feeling a dizzy, freeing rush after a night of dancing and foreplay, but so ready to get this man of yours on your familiar, comfortable bed. After ordering him to lie down, you slip into the silky little number you ordered specifically for his next homecoming.

Slithering on top of him, you yank at his belt buckle.

“Just tell me what to do, mi reina. Make it easy for me.” He grins in self-satisfaction.

"I just want you out of these clothes," you fire back, wordlessly working him free enough for you to take hold of.

He groans out something incoherent as you tease the hot, heavy length of him, gliding your hand up and down his shaft.

"Just like that," he pants, his hips involuntarily bucking as you lean over and swirl your tongue all over his tip. "Fuck, I missed that." Slipping his hand around the nape of your neck, he has to restrain himself from thrusting up into your hot, wet mouth.

Santiago knows there's not another woman like you, anywhere. He's traveled over half the world, a couple dozen times over, so he knows. It's not just that you're beautiful. You radiate beauty. The trust you place in him and the freedom you give him to be who he is, to pursue his career, is as much a siren call, luring him back to you every chance he can manage, as it is a steady anchor for him.

As you take him deeper, his breath quickens at the thought of coming down your throat, but somehow, he's distracted by a need to reclaim you. To take possession of your body the way he dreamed of doing on the dance floor. As your lithe body swayed, matching his rhythm, following his lead, he noticed the men devouring you with their eyes.

He would grip your hips tighter, grind against you possessively and trail his lips down the side of your neck, marking you as his own.

But before he can claw his way out of the haze you're literally sucking him into, you pull off his cock with a pop, lips wet and pouting.

"Take these off," you whine, yanking at the waistband of his pants, attempting to pull them down over his thick thighs. "Can't reach all of you."

He surprises you by climbing off the bed to undress completely. With only moonlight spilling in through the bedroom window, he wears the vigor of his last mission on his skin, darker from days in the sun. His toned muscles flex with every motion, fresh bruises and old scars telling the story of his adventurous life.

You're way past giving him a lecture every time he returns home with a new piece of the story etched onto his skin.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, you stretch out your fingers, tracing a healing bruise just under his ribs, situated beside a small, angry cut. Your eyes lock with his and he nods, letting you know that whoever inflicted this pain is taken care of. You press your lips there, learning the new marks of him, claiming this new part of him as your own.

"Show me where else," you plead, but he's shaking his head, easing down to hover you, his body flexing deliciously as he rolls you underneath him and covers your lips with his.

You moan into his mouth as his hands roam all over the shape of you, just like while you were out dancing, but wilder, more possessive. His tongue licks deeper as he grips your hips, positioning you underneath the hungry thrust of his hips against your thigh.

Your fingers slip around his neck, tenderly fingering the scar from his surgery before sliding into his hair, yanking hard enough to pull his mouth free of yours and earn you an appreciative moan. You yank again, harder, the leverage enabling you to pull your silk-covered breasts flush against the bare heat of his chest.

Slinging one leg around the back of his thigh, you meet his steady grinding eagerly, already panting as he smirks against your cheek.

"You've been wet all night, haven't you?" He teases, tugging your earlobe into his mouth. "All those men watching you dancing, but no one's touching my wife but me."

He sucks a mark into your neck, pushing one hand up your inner thigh, kneading the soft flesh, but stopping short of your aching, wet core.

"Wanted to touch you right here, make you come, soak those pretty panties," he taunts, tracing one finger over your puffy folds.

"Why didn't you?" A pout escapes your lips as you desperately attempt to shift your hips, to chase his fingers for any sort of friction. "Wanna come for you, Santi, show them I'm yours."

At that confession, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them forward into your spongy softness, beckoning your hips forward.

"Want me to finger you next time we dance, baby?" He huffs against your lips, rubbing the heavy length of his cock against the slick on your thigh, already dripping from your sopping core. "Wear a pretty dress for me and let me feel you up? You would be louder than the music when you come. Dirty girl.”

Your back arches off the bed at the sound of his voice goading you - something he does often during long distance sex. Your mind briefly drifts to the half dozen times he’s nearly taken you over the edge with his voice alone, uttering filthy things, finally allowing you to touch yourself for some gratification, or at least relief.

Before you can beg him to keep talking, he swipes his thumb over your clit, working a third finger into your hole, expertly coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your thighs shake, chest heaving as you tremble and shudder around his fingers. “Oh fuck, Santi…so good,” you pant. “Missed you so much.”

Chasing after his lips with your own, you press a tempting kiss to his mouth, licking it open even as he strokes you past overstimulation, smiling into your kiss as you squirm to get away from him.

“Too much?” he grins, nibbling your bottom lip, swirling his middle finger like a cyclone inside you, just because he can.

“No. Want your cock.” You bite his lip and he hisses as you wrap smooth fingers around his hard, leaking length, pushing your thumb roughly over his tip.

Shimmying your hips closer to what you really want, you beckon him forward, rubbing his tip between your folds. But he resists you.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, biting gently on your jaw, then your throat, his hot breath making you tremble with desire.

Twisting your wrist, you work your hand up and down the length of his aching dick. “Want your cock. Want you inside me so bad.” Your tongue swirls inside his ear and he stutters out a gasp, shifting his hips to push his fat tip into your dripping hole.

He moans out your name, thrusting all the way inside. Your warm, wet walls hug him perfectly and he settles in that spot he knows you love. The stimulation and warmth of feeling him flush against you has you desperately rutting against him.

His hand grips your luscious thigh, pushing it up, folding you and opening you wider for him. Shifting his hips, he pumps into you faster, this angle hitting you so deep your head drops to the pillow as you whimper, overcome with how delicious it is to feel your husband, home, in your arms, in your bed, deep inside you where he belongs.

Grunts of pleasure pass his lips as he makes you his again, after weeks of nothing but a blurry, in-and-out video or sometimes, a crackly voice over a satellite phone.

“Don’t know how I ever leave this pussy,” he huffs, his body rolling over yours, spearing you open, molding you to the shape of his cock after so long without it. “That’s it. I fucking quit. I’m gonna spend the next month inside you.”

You know he’s not serious. Not yet anyway, but you love to hear it when he reclaims you like this. How he’ll forget everything else just to spend all his time coming inside you. And oh, does he make up for being gone when he’s home.

"This feels good," he sighs, hands tracing the shape of you through the silky lingerie you're wearing for him. His fingers drag and push the soft fabric until he's taking it over your head, licking his lips at the way your tits bounce as he fucks into you. "You feel better, though."

"Come here," you plead, luring him down all the way on top of you, kissing him wildly as his chest settles against yours. A light sheen of sweat forms between you, slick and hot as you sling your legs all the way around his waist, pulling him harder and deeper, if it's possible.

The thrusting of his tongue inside your mouth almost seems to match his hips and you grip onto him for dear life, holding him so tightly, your bodies rutting faster and harder in one deliciously fluid movement, so in sync you move as one.

The friction against your clit has you on the edge. You're unable to meet his hungry kiss with anything more than a long, breathy moan.

"Come on, baby, I'm so fuckin' close," he rumbles, his rhythm faltering as your walls hug his shaft, fluttering and pulsing, soaking his cock before you shriek in pleasure. Gripping him tighter, so wet and so tight he comes with you, filling you with his warmth, dragging his lips across your shoulder to bury his strangled cry in your neck.

You cradle his head, kissing his cheek, his ear, carding your fingers through his damp curls and whispering how much you adore him as he comes back to himself, finally going still, safe in your arms.

You rest there together, mouths fusing for a languid kiss, bodies joined and sated, sharing one another's breath. Santi holds you so close and you know he needs this. Needs to stay inside you, connected to you, wrapped up together, the heat of your bodies, your sweat and the slick between your legs raw and real and grounding for a man who has seen too much and is gone too often.

This is when Santiago is his most vulnerable, and inevitably makes his way to the question voicing his deepest fear. "Don't let me go."

"Never," you swear, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter and squeezing him fiercely. "I'll always be right here, you know that."

He feels the slight scrape of your new diamond bracelet against the nape of his neck, toying with the scar from his operation. He knows diamonds won't make up for the fact that he's not here, and he doesn't want to pretend that it means something deep - such as he's with you whenever you wear it.

You're both years past that bullshit now. It's a beautiful piece and it belongs on his beautiful wife - it's that simple.

He asks you every time he comes home, if it's too much. Makes you promise you'll tell him if doubt has crept into the back of your mind. He does it now, and you know what he means.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He kisses you again, his body finally relaxing completely.

"Besides," you tease, "You're going to be inside me for the next month, remember? So neither of us are going anywhere."

He was teasing about that. You know it and he knows it. But now that you say it out loud...

"Yes ma'am." The next mission can wait.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist (Santiago, Leto, Nathan, Llewyn, Orestes)

Main Masterlist

updates blog @ivystoryupdates

#ivy's ficiversary celebration #thanks for the ask!#📥 inbox #asks #📤 answered #ivy replies #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #husband!santiago garcia #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #lovely moots 💕#WYCBH fic

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luxurychristmaspudding · 2 months

Text

wait | listen/watch/touch

summary: it’s just a shirt. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. smut, dacryphilia, p in v, light bondage, general (sadly not acacius) horny thoughts. takes place in the listen/watch/touch'verse. don't think too hard about timelines.

series masterlist

wc: 500+ (it's a baby!)

an: you have @undercoverpena to thank for this one. jo spun her magic wheel for her birthday celebrations, gave me this colour, and said ‘how very frankie/joel of you’. and - ya know - i had to pay them a visit. i'm sorry this turned out so smutty after swearing it wouldn't lol.

thanks also to @itsokbbygrl, who has filled my brain with the most delicious thoughts over the last few days.

happy birthday darling jo. you are a sparkling star, a ray of sunshine. so generous with your kindness and talent. i’m so lucky to have met you <3

The last time he wore it, Joel fucked you in it.

Hard and fast over the back of the couch, until you could feel your cum leaking down your thighs, until you could hardly remember your own name. Caged in by his arm on one side, his other hand holding you down by the back of your neck. Heavy and hard against you, his lips pressed to the curve of your spine, heat pulsing off him in waves. You were sweating, somewhere close to tears, close to the brink of unbearable pleasure. His grunts, rattling around in your swimming mind, his praises - good girl, I know, I know, just feels so good doesn’t it, baby? - the slick, wet sound of your cunt as you begged him. Begged him for more, for less, to devour you, consume you, swallow you and the world whole the way only he can.

Just a little longer, he’d moaned. Wait.

The last time you wore it, you fucked Frankie in it.

Swathed in the warmth of Joel’s smell as you rocked your hips against him, his mouth shining with your wetness, pretty flush all the way up his chest. This time, he was the one begging. Begging you not to stop, to let him come, to let him fill you up. Begging for relief against the suck of your greedy cunt, the way it tightened around him, begging for relief against the want and the heat, the smell of sex, the all consuming feeling of you against him. Anything to lessen the pressure in his belly, the tightness in his thighs. The days this had played out for, touching, not touching. You gonna break the rules, baby girl?

You’d slowed, pulled off, dragging your swollen, soaked folds over him.

Wait, baby boy. Just a little longer.

The last time you saw it, it was in Santi’s hands.

A scrap of anything would do to tie you up, hold you back. Keep you from the scene playing out before you - the tongues, the open mouths, the moans, the hands knotted into fists, the curses, the three beautiful men just out of arm's reach. And you’d cried for real then. Squirming against the sheets, wrists bound, as you pleaded brokenly, wantonly, for someone to touch you, to fuck you.

Watching through bleary eyes as Frankie crawled between your legs, as he kissed up your thighs, gasping as he slipped his tongue against your clit. Moaning into Joel’s mouth as he kissed you, feeding you his tongue. As he laid himself down at your altar, as you breathed in his musky scent, mixed with Frankie and Pope’s. As he licked the tears from your cheeks, rough hands all over your body. Santi, untying your hands from that damn green shirt, pressing tender kisses down your neck before latching his teeth around the sensitive bud of your nipple.

You’ve waited, you’ve waited. Not patiently, not like you were told. But when it comes together like this - when you come together like this - it’s so worth it.

And now, seeing that shirt slung over the back of the chair in Joel's room, where it all started, you don’t think you can be patient again.

divider from @/saradika-graphics

#jo's birthday bash #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader #joel miller x frankie morales x reader

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Note

congrats on 2222!! soulmate au with frankie would be so cute. I love frankie sm he’s just the cutest 😍

Hi lovely! Thank you for this prompt. I was a bit apprehensive because I've read one (1) soulmate AU in my entire life and wasn't sure if I could do it justice. But obviously, Frankie takes this by the ears and I just had the best time writing it. This is also a college AU because apparently I love AUs set with Pedro boys in college 🤷🏻‍♀️

This drabble is actually an AU of an upcoming fic I have in the works, called Summer House (with a lot less angst and pain). I hope you like it sweet anon!

Frankie Morales x soulmates AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1346 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, college AU, inexperienced reader, drinking games, friends to soulmates

Sometimes, you wonder what colour Frankie’s eyes are.

It’s not something you wonder about often, not when everyone has grey eyes - but not really. One day, when you kiss your soulmate for the first time, you will see their eye colour, and they will see yours.

So you definitely don’t have any business wondering anything of the kind about Frankie at all, seeing that you two do not get along. Never have, probably never will, despite having been in the same close knit group since you were kids. Benny has long played the second to your principal in your duels with Frankie, while Santi is his, with Will keeping the peace whenever you get into a particularly thorny disagreement.

But that’s the funny thing about friendship. Despite your bickering, you got his back, and you know he has yours.

You’ve heard about it once or twice through the grapevine in high school, but finding one’s soulmate seems to be a dime a dozen in college, with happy news dropping left, right and centre throughout the academic year.

While you’re not in a hurry to find your fated other half, you start thinking that you should at least get started with the kissing part. You’re way behind your friends and peers on that front, somehow missing out on the formative experience despite being a regular fixture at house parties at high school, then sorority parties in your freshman year in college.

You really should blame the boys. No one wants to risk messing with a girl who has three hulking seniors and one equally hulking sophomore at her beck and call, not when there are far easier options around.

But you know it’s not just that, and you’ll only admit it when you're drunkenly tucking yourself into bed, alone yet again after another party. It feels like you’re the only person your age who’s still (stupidly) holding onto the hope that your first kiss can be something, not just a sloppy makeout session with too much tongue and too little meaning.

And so you find yourself, still never been kissed, when summer rolls around at the end of your first year at college. Your gang of five is about to shrink to just you and Benny, with the rest of the boys enlisting after they graduate, and the impending farewell upsets you more than you care to show.

The five of you spend the first week together at the Millers’ summer house after school lets out, as has been tradition since you were kids - with your parents when you were younger, but it’s been just kids for the last few years.

Well, just the kids plus one, since Frankie always brings a girlfriend. Unfailingly, it's someone beautiful with perfect hair who has a wandering eye for the other boys, and hates your guts for being the only girl in the group.

On the last night, the guys invite a select crowd over for one final hurrah before they go home and get ready to ship out to basic training the following week. Music is booming, cheap beer is flowing, and you’re all in the garden, the sticky Floridian heat clinging to you like a second skin.

Ironically, it’s Frankie’s girlfriend who wants to play spin the bottle. He sits opposite you, his Standard Oil cap pulled over his eyes but failing to hide his annoyance at being forced to participate. You roll your eyes at him across the circle, and he gives you a middle finger back.

Will, the self-appointed gamesmaster, spins the bottle set on a pizza box atop the lawn.

It spins, and spins, and spins - until it doesn’t.

You look on in sheer horror when the bottle stutters to a stop squarely before you, the other end pointing at Frankie, who turns green with nausea.

‘FUCK NO!’

You attempt to run, only to be tackled to the ground by Santi, who practically hauls you by the waist back to the circle as you kick and scream.

Frankie, on the other hand, has to be restrained by both Miller brothers.

‘I have a girlfriend!’ he shouts, digging the heels of his beat-up sneakers into the grass.

She doesn’t seem to mind though, clapping gleefully along with everyone else, chanting, ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’

Shoved toe to toe in the middle of the circle under watchful eyes, you exchange vicious glares. Frankie’s broad shoulders are hunched over defensively, arms crossed. It’s strange, you’ve known him forever, but this is probably physically the closest you’ve ever been to each other without being locked in a fist fight.

Warmth bounces off his tightly wound up frame as he towers over you, and by some folly, you feel an inexplicable pull.

You fight the staggering want to bury your nose in that grey tshirt (the one he wears Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and restocks at Old Navy when it wears too thin), to swipe that hat off his head to brush the curls from his face, to look into his eyes - and see what colour they are.

In the end, Frankie breaks first - you’re not sure if it’s the jeering and goading from the crowd or your stubborn standoff that makes him snap. Grabbing you by the elbow, he hauls you firmly into his chest before you can react.

You should be embarrassed, mortified that this is how you’re going to end up losing your first kiss. And yet, losing doesn't seem like the right word.

There’s a deep-seated calmness inside you, knowing that it’s going to be Frankie. The boy you’ve known since you were three, the teenager who used to make you cry with stupid juvenile pranks, and the man now who wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch if anyone even looks at you the wrong way.

As soon as the tip of his proud nose brushes yours, your eyes slide shut of their own accord - and he kisses you.

God, his lips are so soft. Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees wobble so dangerously that your fingers twist into the front of his tshirt, holding on for dear life.

Can he tell that you don’t know how to kiss, at all? Does he think you’re terrible? The fact that this feels so fucking perfect despite having no idea what you’re doing sets you on edge, a magnifying glass trained on your inexperience in a way that makes you stiffen with nerves and awkwardness.

He must be appalled at how bad you are, especially after the litany of gorgeous, more experienced girls he’s been with over the years. You can’t believe you’re subjecting him to this, how would he ever look you in the eye afterwards -

But then, something shifts when his hands find your waist, palms easily spanning the small of your back as he pulls back for air, but only just, still so close that you can feel the tickle of his beard on your chin. There’s an unmistakable hitch in his breath, a tremour as he exhales, which in turns makes you tremble and switches off the unwelcome commentary in your head.

It’s as if he wants you.

Before you can think too hard, Frankie leans in and kisses you again, harder this time, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, and heat chases down your spine like a meteor. He sucks on your bottom lip when it falls open in a gasp, dipping between your lips with a clever swipe of his tongue against yours that makes you shudder and whimper, which he swallows with a possessive growl.

Your lungs are burning when he draws back, his nose still touching yours.

Then he calls your name.

You blink as your eyes open -

Frankie’s staring at you, lips parted, his gaze reverential. Like he’s never seen you before. Reaching up, he takes your face in his hands, calloused palms on your cheeks, thumbs swiping away the tears that won’t stop. You break into a watery grin, which he mirrors, a warm chuckle rumbling in his chest, holding you close as everything falls into place -

Frankie’s eyes are brown.

Note: In case it's not clear, in this fic, everyone’s eyes appear grey. You can only see your soulmate's eye colour after you kiss them for the first time.

#fuckyeah2222sleepover #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales soulmates au #frankie morales college au #frankie morales imagine

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

Note

Belo looks so so so comfortable to lay on.

Like, if I got my hands on him, it'd be over for him, no one could stop me. He wouldn't leave the bed for the entire day.

Others can speculate about what we did, but they'll never know (cuddles and perhaps even... kisses? Hand holding?!)

On the one hand, Belo has sworn to make your life as comfortable as possible, and he would never deny you the feeling of his fur. He's aware angels tend to be nice tactile stimulus for lessers, after all.

Besides, there's nothing dirty about the way you cling to him, nothing wrong about how you lay your head down on his chest, how your fingers ruffle and pet over tufts of whiteness. Surely, you shouldn't lie in bed for so long, but just seeing the content smile on your face makes the angel think twice about disturbing you.

His coworkers do wonder. In fact, Santi is the first one to sniff around Belo in an attempt to determine if he had some wild sessions. He's usually always disappointed, but it won't stop him from sniffing around the same way he does to his other coworkers.

#Belo oc

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romanarose · 9 months

Text

Favorites of 2023

Hi! I've seen a lot people doing these so I thought I would too!

These are all sorts of Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal fics that delighted me this year <3

I tried to keep it to one rec per author just because I have soooooo many friends with wonderful fics and blogs who deserve recognition

If yours didn't make it, NO FEAR you are still wonderful to me <3

Everything is labeled properly in the fic so be warned, many of this contains dark!

3 series that I couldn't stop thinking about

Hungry Hearts By @atinylittlepain: The Last of Us, A Bruce Springsteen themed Joel series? SHEEEEEEEESH

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites : The Last of Us, Jackson!Joel and a victim of prolonged sexual assault. If you know me, you know I love a traumatized reader healing with the power of love and friendship

The Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : Moon Knight, NON CON, dark moon boys is always a slay but the way Marc is so tortured and Steven is so needy?!?!?!?! Mels characterization of Steven may or may not have influenced my Ben in ROF

Three fics that rewired my brain

On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal : Triple Frontier, Now, I've always loved a tubby man with a belly (who else had a crush on Samwise Gamgee in LOTR?) BUT DARK FRANKIE?!?!?!?! Turned it into a full obsession.

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear : The Last of Us, Wow, I devoured every single chapter!!! I thinka bout it so much, ESPECIALLY that scene with Tommy... I've never looked at a pool ball the same way.

Dancing With Wolves by @hon3yboy : Moon Knight, Now, I'm not the biggest monster fucker out there, but this?!?!?!?! WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR??? Unwell about it.

3 times men jerking off was hot

Caught by @toxicanonymity : The Last of Us, I've mentioned in the authors note for Keep Cry'n that this fic inspired it, it's one I go back to allllll the time

Take Care of me Tonight by @missdictatorme : Moon Knight, Jake is horny and lonely and jerks of..... reader helps, and makes our boy feel special <3

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Narcos, Javi is... well... pent up, needs to let loose! and boy does he.

4 times it got gay bc something is wrong with me and I couldn't decide

Behind Enemy Lines by @astroboots : Triple Frontier, Y'all know how much I love this series, seeing as I wrote a fic for it XD but this chapter is something i always hold close <3

Captain of the team by @writefightandflightclub : Triple Frontier, MAAAAAANNNNN this fic is why I will never be the same as a person.

Trine by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction : Sucker Punch. Anyone who reader blue jones should be reading this. Incredible.

What if he never had to go? by @velocibeewords : Triple Frontier, The infamous series I read on my friend bachelorette weekend! So good I couldn't put it down, going so far as to read it at a casino XD Benny and Santi, my babies

3 times underused characters shined

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : The Two Faces of January, Tell me, how does someone take a character with almost no following and make a series so damn beloved by many??? Only Mona could.

My Ex's Tapes by @runa-falls : Lighteningface, Basil Stilt AND Jake Lockley??!?! God bless this mess hnnggggg

I'm Getting What's Mine by @winniethewife : The Card Counter, dub con, I think we as a society need more William Tell, and sensory deprivation to break down reader? Amazing.

3 times they talked dirty to me *trumpet noises*

Not a Survivalist Girl by @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery : The Last of Us, when they finally fuck??? HELLO?!?!! unreal

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee : The Last of Us, Joel is so degrading and condescending in this I think about it so much it's fucking unreal.

Making Trouble by @juneknight : Moon Knight, The fic that completly fried the brains of the moon knight fandom. "You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop" yeah. Yeah...

3 times there were three or more

The story of us by @pimosworld : Triple Frontier, This series has a special place in heart bc Priscilla said I influenced a lo of it with the characterizations and thats such a big honor. Priscilla Is so talented and I adore how she writes these guys... and the FishBen wins my heart

Eyes on Me by @cavillscurls : The Last of Us, Soft Joel? Tommy watches? AFTERCARE?!?!?! Y'all know how much I love aftercare.... I should read this again shouldn't I?

Run the Table by @katiexpunk : The Last of Us, MORE TOMMY JOEL THREESOME! MORE!!!! This one came out recently so its still fresh in my mind

3 Times I should NOT have been into that

No Soul to Sell @atticrissfinch : The Last of Us, NON CON V DARK, this is the fic that made me like... yeah I'm into piss. No doubt. It was so dark and hot ;-;

Plushies Series by @pedge-page The Last of Us, Haru knows how much I love this, and it was a toss up between this and their piss kink but seeing as I got that above.... plushes needs more love bc its so soft and domestic and horny <3

Plaything by @missannwinchester : The Last of Us, wow, I adored this fic… then I lost it!!!! Thank you to everyone who helped find it bc it’s one of my favs. I wanna be Joel’s lil doll he dresses up 🥺

3 times I said “this is underrated af”

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : The Last of Us, Are y'all tired of me talking about this fic yet? Koshka told me my series The Wrong Way inspired this so it's special to my heart <3

Safe by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and @apascalrascal : Triple Frontier, Cal has so many good Frankie one shots it was hard to pick, but this one is sooooo soft. We love Frankie being willing to listen and learn.

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Triple Frontier, Y'all know I love a traumatized reader learning to heal, but his fic is fantastic bc it's a traumatized reader who has done a lot of the work already and is strong and brave as it is <3 Also, all 4 of the guys are her friends now which is the best way to have a fic

Thank you all soooooo much for all these amazing fics and for a great 2023! Well. Not so great, I had terrible time lol but y'all were my solace <3

If you feel so inclined, check out my best of year wrapped for both RomanaRose and Romana-after-dark

I'm not gonna say 2024 is my year, I leanred my lesson XD I am approaching 2024 with RESPECT. It will be the year it is.

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bitchesuntitled · 3 months

Text

Play Date Hookup

Summary: Frankie arrives early to pick up Missy.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Sexting, being parents, unprotected piv, creampie

A/N: Thank you very much @beefrobeefcal and @strang3lov3 for lending your eyes on this one ❤️ @jay-zzle basically makes all the moodboards for me(with the exception of a few) and continues to surprise me over and over again with her talents! 😍 ilysm!!!

Masterlist||Parents to Lovers||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

“Down the hall and it’s the last door on the left,” Benny points, and grumbling in response, Frankie makes his way towards Benny’s new bedroom.

“Fuckin’ hell, Benny,” Frankie mutters, carrying the box Will shoved into his arms, “The fuck do you have in here? Weights?”

Frankie makes it to Benny’s room, barely able to hold the box any longer before it falls to the floor, the contents spilling out onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck,” Frankie mutters, whipping around to make sure no one followed him in to see the box fumble, wiping his forearm across his sweaty brow he looks down at the mess he has to pick up. Playboys. Hundreds of playboys spilled out of the box.

After picking one up, Frankie quietly makes his way to the door, peering out to see if anyone is coming before closing the door and browsing the dirty magazine. He finds a model that slightly resembles you and his cock twitches, smirking as he pulls out his phone.

Frankie: You busy?

You: Making the girls lunch

Frankie: Thinking about you

You: Yeah? What about me?

Frankie: Oh ya know 🐱

You: Francisco! Naughty, naughty 😈

Frankie: Wanna eat your pussy so bad baby

You: How about I ride you instead?

Frankie: Fuuuuuuck I’m supposed to be helping Benny move and now I’ve got a fucking boner

You: Show me? 😏

Frankie sighs, looking down at the tent in his jeans. Fuck it, he thinks, undoing his jeans. He slides them down to the middle of his thighs and moves his boxers down just enough that his cock springs free. He holds his dick in one hand and his phone in the other, getting the perfect angle.

“Hey man, there’s mor-“ Santi comes barging into the room, “What the fuck?”

“Fuck!” Frankie says, turning around, and pulling up his pants.

“What’s going on?” Will asks coming up the hallway.

“Fish is taking a pic of his dick!” Santi hollers out laughing.

“Fuck off!” Frankie huffs, buttoning and zipping his pants back up. His face feels like it’s on fire with how red it must be, turning around all three of them standing there looking at him.

“Fish, you’re supposed to be helping me move!” Benny laughs, “Not sexting your girl!”

“Ha. Ha.” Frankie mocks, “Lady gets what the lady wants,” he shrugs.

The guys continue to laugh, shaking their heads.

“Come on Fish,” Will says, “Let’s get the rest of this shit done and maybe you can leave early for your girl.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Frankie grumbles, looking at the pic he took before sending it to you.

Frankie: [image attached] I hope you know I love you because I just got fucking caught since you wanted a dick pic so bad 😜

You: Mmmm I love you too babe 😘

—

“Girls! Lunchtime!”

Frankie had volunteered to help Benny move into his new place which meant Missy was hanging out with you and Nora until he was done. Nora and Missy come bounding into the kitchen, sitting down at their plates and digging into the bag of chips on the table to pile on their plates.

“Hungry?” You ask with a laugh.

Missy and Nora nod while grabbing a handful of chips to shove in their mouths.

“How much more time do we have?” Nora asks with a mouthful.

“Sweetie, don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

“My bad,” Nora says, while Missy giggles.

You glance at your watch checking the time before picking up your sandwich.

“Looks like you girls have about an hour left before Missy’s dad comes to get her.”

“Can we play in the sprinkler after we eat?!”

“Can we?!” Missy asks with the same puppy dog eyes as her father.

“I guess that would be okay,” you shrug, “you can just borrow Nora’s old swimsuit, it should fit.”

“Yes!” Both girls shriek in triumph, picking up their sandwiches and taking big bites to try and finish faster.

“Hey now, slow down,” you murmur after taking a bite of your sandwich, trying to cover your mouth with your hand.

“Momma,” Nora says, “Don’t talk with food in your mouth!”

—

The girls are outside running through the sprinkler while you clean up the kitchen from lunch. You hear your ringtone blaring just as you finish putting dishes in the dishwasher. The picture of Frankie from your first date shows up on the screen, causing a grin to spread across your face.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe,” Frankie says, even though you can’t see him you can hear the smile on his face.

“Hey babe! Ooo-la-la!” You hear in the background along with someone moaning, “Oh Fish!” And obnoxious kissing sounds.

“Fuck off!” Frankie grumbles as the background noise gets softer and softer, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s all good,” you laugh, “How are the guys?”

“Being assholes,” Frankie grunts, “but they also wanted me to forward their hellos”

“Tell them I say the same and that I don’t call you Fish,” you say, unable to wipe the grin off your face.

“No you do not,” Frankie purrs into the receiver, “Miss you baby.”

“Frankie,” you groan, “Don’t start that.”

“Start what?” He asks with fake shock in his tone.

“You know what!”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, “How’s Missy? Is she behaving?”

“She’s good! Frankie, she always behaves, stop worrying about that. You’ve done good with her,” you smile, looking out the kitchen window, “They’re outside right now running through the sprinkler.”

“Do I need to stop at my place and get clothes for her?”

“Nah,” you say with a shrug, “She’s wearing Nora’s old swimsuit.”

“Okay,” Frankie laughs, “Oh before I forget! Benny is going to throw a barbecue at his house once he gets settled and he would like it if you and Nora came too.”

“Frankie,” you say softly, “As much as I would love to. Is that really a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Me and Nora showing up to Benny’s,” you sigh, “Nora and Missy don’t know that I know your friends or that we’re together, I think it might give off a confusing message.”

“Yeah,” Frankie sighs, “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m sorry babe, I really am.”

“No it’s okay, I just didn’t think about that.”

“One day,” you sigh dreamily.

“One day,” Frankie repeats, “I better go, I think we might finish sooner than we thought but I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” you smile, “Just let me know. I love you!”

“I love you too babe, I’ll see you soon.”

—

Your phone pings and a text from Frankie pops up.

Frankie: Hey. Girls still playing in sprinkler?

You: Hey. Yeah

Frankie: Come let me in 😉

Confused for a moment, stepping towards your front door peering through the peephole to see Frankie standing on your front porch. Smirking, you open the door.

“What are yo-“ Before you can even finish your sentence Frankie grabs you pulling you into a hungry kiss, letting out a soft moan when his hands grab your ass.

“Frankie,” you whisper, pushing your hands softly against his chest, “We can’t.”

“They’re distracted,” He hums, his nose tracing along your jaw, nipping your neck gently, “We can make it quick.”

You can hear the girls' laughter outside, he’s right - they are distracted. Nora won’t leave that sprinkler until someone makes her and Missy won’t leave it unless Nora does.

“Okay,” you smirk, hands trailing down to his waist, hooking your fingers into the belt loops on his jeans and pulling him towards the couch “But seriously we need to make it fast.”

Frankie nods with a dopey grin, and pushing him to sit, you straddle him. His hands immediately grip your hips, pulling you down on the bulge trapped in his jeans.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he sighs as your lips trail along his neck, softly sucking on his pulse point causing him to groan.

“I’ve missed you too,” you giggle, grinding your core against him. Frankie’s mouth drops open at the friction, “But you gotta be quiet too,” you say smirking as you undo his belt.

“Up,” he grunts, slapping the side of your ass. Hastily he maneuvers your body so that your chest is against the arm of the couch, slipping your leggings and underwear off you just enough and he lets out a pained groan seeing your wet slit, “Fuck, wish we had more time.”

You feel his thumbs spreading your lips open and his breath ghosting against your core, giving a barely there kiss to your bundle of nerves.

“Frankie,” you whine, “Please.”

“Tranquilita,” Frankie huffs, his thumb running circles against your clit, “Wish I could give this pussy the treatment she deserves.”

“Fuck,” you moan, “We don’t have that kind of time, baby.”

“I know,” Frankie sighs, as you hear the button and zip of his jeans, the rustle of them being pushed down, turning your head you see his hand gripping his shaft, a soft groan crawls out his throat as he gives it a few pumps before pressing against your entrance. The head swiping up and down along your slit, causing you to squirm. Frankie grips your hip sharply to keep you still, pushing his cock in, your walls parting to make room for him. Simultaneous groans come from the both of you as he pushes in deeper until you feel his hips against your backside.

“Fuck baby,” Frankie groans, his hand on your hip gripping tighter, “Feel so fucking good.”

“Move,” you whine, hands gripping the cushion in front of you, “I need you to move.”

Frankie hums, pulling out an inch and slowly moving back into your heat. His other hand moves to the opposite hip, placing a firm grip there.

“Frankie,” you whine again, trying to move your hips against him but his hold on them becomes even tighter “More. I need more.”

“Tranquilita bebé,” Frankie says calmly, still keeping the same tempo working you open, “Gotta get used to it first, don’t wanna hurt you.”

He was right, the last time you had a quickie it hurt, but this was starting to feel like torture. Slowly rutting into you, you want it harder, want to feel him tomorrow every time you moved.

“Fuck,” Frankie softly hisses, feeling his cock pull out until only the tip is inside before plunging back into you harshly.

“Oh god,” you gasp, feeling his length scrub along your walls, “Frankie!”

Frankie’s hips begin to snap into you at a frenzied pace, the sound of skin clapping bouncing around your ears. His hand slides down between your thighs to access that sweet spot, swirling two fingers around it, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Bebé,” Frankie tuts, his arm leaving your hip to lean over you, his chest flush with your back, slowing the pace of his hips, “Gonna need you to hold those noises in for me,” he whispers into your ear, giving your neck a soft bite.

“Mmhhmm,” you choke out, feeling the flutter of your walls as he hits that spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.

“God damn it,” Frankie groans, sucking in a sharp breath and pistoning into your cunt, “I need you to come,” moving his fingers faster against your clit.

Your grip on the couch becomes tighter, that warm feeling below your belly button becoming a raging inferno, the sound of your wetness smacking against Frankie’s balls as he continues brutally rutting into you.

“Fu-“ you start to sob as he clamps his hand across your mouth, leaving you to whimper into his hand as you reach your peak, coming undone beneath him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Frankie pants, beginning to chase his own climax as your walls constrict his cock, hips losing their rhythm, “Where can I - fuck - come? Where?”

You grip his hand moving it from your mouth, “I- In- Inside,” you stutter out.

“Dios mío,” he growls, grinding into you, feeling his cock twitch as he paints your walls with his spend, slumping against you, “Fuck me,” he whispers between your shoulder blades.

“Well,” you smile, “I didn’t do that but you did just fuck me.”

Frankie lets out a small laugh, rolling his forehead against your upper back with a shake of his head.

“You’re something else, bebé,” Frankie laughs, pulling out as you both groan.

There’s a smack at the backdoor and you hear your name being yelled.

“Nora fell!” Missy shouts from behind the door.

“Fuck,” you say, quickly sitting up, pulling your underwear and leggings up, “Mom duty.”

#fransico morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco morales smut #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #fic: parents to lovers #bitchesuntitled

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