#Franky Doyle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babbygirlblues · 2 years

Text

Is there a Wentworth fandom here? I found these two on youtube so now I'm watching the series & taking out my obsession on my keyboard, so if you're interested, here's what I'm writing!

Intro to Franky & Bridget is probably best done with this clip. Highly recommend it, it's what drew me in. Although if you want to start at the start there's a nice playlist here.

Letting Ya Down

Summary: Franky's hates feeling like she’s letting Bridget down.

Warnings: Smut! Tribbing/Scissoring. 1.5k

18+ MINORS DNI

“What’s going on, baby?” Bridget slides closer on the couch. Her face is lit up by the TV, a glaring distraction that doesn’t seem to be doing it’s job for either of them.

Franky’s gaze seems to bore through the TV and into the wall behind it. Her mind is clearly elsewhere and Bridget can practically feel the anxiety vibrating off her.

“Hmm?” Franky turns her head on the cushion, squishing her cheek into the pillow so she can look at Bridget.

Bridget’s gaze is as open and honest as always. The older woman's hand reaches out and she runs gentle fingers through Franky’s dark hair, brushing her eye’s clear so she can’t hide behind the cascading shadows.

Franky’s eyes close at the feeling of Bridget's fingers at her crown and she shrugs sluggishly, “Nothin’.”

A weak smile plays on her lips and slowly grows into a real grin at the concerned way Bridget fidgets at her hair. Bridget's hand drops from her forehead and she tugs teasingly on Franky’s ear, soothing the lob between her thumb and pointer finger with soft circles.

“Are you sure?” Bridget mumbles, the tv seems quieter although neither have touched the remote. Franky’s head spirals with the ways she could tell Bridget the truth.

“Mmhmm…” Franky ducks her head further into Bridget's hand until she cups her cheek in a warm palm.

“Talk to me?” Bridget pleads, but she’s ready to let it go if Franky isn’t ready to say what’s on her mind.

Franky crawls the short distance to Bridget’s lap and shuffles herself into her side, digging her face into the crook of the woman's neck.

“I think I’m going to be fired.” She blurts out, her breath blowing against the warm skin of Bridget’s neck.

Bridget moves back, shocked and almost knocks Franky off her chest, “What?”

Franky whines softly and the sound makes Bridge quickly pull her back into her arms.

“A client started asking about the show today,” Frankie says, “I could tell the guys at work weren’t happy with the questions, they knew something.”

“Oh, honey.” Bridget murmurs.

Franky sniffles and a wet droplet falls down Bridget’s throat.

“I’m so fucking sick of letting you down.” She sighs, her lip curling in and she clamps down hard between her teeth.

“No, baby.” Bridget runs wide circles over Franky’s back, the sweater over her shoulder trembling. “No.”

Franky murmurs quietly.

“You’re not letting me down.” Bridget whispers.

Franky shakes her head, “I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Bridget says louder and with a pointed ferocity, it knocks Franky off her course for a second.

“You could never let me down.” Bridget whispers. Her lips press confidently to Franky’s forehead in a simple kiss and she continues to place pecks down her nose and over her sharp cheekbones. When she reaches Franky’s lips her press is hot and heavy, and Franky meets her desperately in a fierce open mouthed kiss.

She tips Bridget backwards with a strong grip on the backs of her knees forcing her to fall back into the thick pillowy couch.

“Franky,” Bridget gasps.

Franky rips the band of Bridget’s track pants over her hips and it slips easily over the swell of her ass. She loops two fingers in her underwear and slides the thin material off Bridget's legs and over her ankles.

Bridget chuckles lightly when Franky ducks back up to her mouth to press a kiss to her lips.

Bracketed between Franky’s strong arms, Bridget squirms as her inner thighs are ripped apart and Franky digs room for herself between Bridget’s legs. Franky’s fingers are demanding and they spread Bridget’s pussy easily, the swollen, wet folds parting and begging for Franky’s touch.

She starts with teasing light circles of Bridget's clit, forcing warmth into her core and tendrils of white heat to smother the bones in her spine and chest.

Franky sinks the first finger into welcoming walls and Bridget squeezes her tight as ever at the first penetration. She doesn’t slow down, the dark echo in the back of her mind tells her that this is all she’s good for. Bridget deserves to feel good, she doesn’t deserve the shit Franky puts her through, she could do so much better.

Her ring finger joins the middle and she drives hard into Bridget's cunt, searching for the spot that makes her breathlessly moan Franky’s name.

She finds it and digs into it brutally. Bridget whimpers uncontrollably, feminine and vulnerable, as pleasure shoots up her core.

“F-Franky, baby, oh, oh, fuck!”

The gravely sound makes Franky wild and she quickly ups her pace, adding a third finger and pistolling her arm until it aches.

“Franky!” Bridget moans, “Oh god, please.”

Sweat peaks on Franky’s forehead and her forehead furrows in concentration. She’s determined to make it up to Bridget.

The older woman’s eyes are hazy, but she searches Franky’s face and is heartbroken to find her so serious. Franky has a tendency to ‘perform’ and despite the pleasure Franky inflicts, it’s tainted by knowledge that she’s not enjoying it like Bridget is.

Bridget’s hands drop to the crook of Franky’s elbow, slowing her down and creating some distance between their heated bodies.

“What’s wrong?” Franky whispers.

“Pants,” Bridget sighs, “Pants, Franky.”

The blonde tugs pleadingly on the material of Franky's shorts. Franky groans as she roughly grabs the material and pulls it down her legs. Her underwear follows quickly after thanks to Bridget who carefully caresses her skin under the waistband, using her palms to drag it down to Franky’s calves. It draws Franky from her mind for a second, the soothing press of Bridget's hands over her thighs immediately makes her core throb.

“Better?” Franky huffs.

“Hmm,” Bridget hums, “Come here,”

Franky hovers over her, confused as Bridget guides one leg over the woman's waist and positions her hips directly above her pelvis with two hands on Franky’s hip bones.

“Come here,” Bridget insists with a gentle whisper.

She pulls Franky’s hips down until her cunt drags along Bridgets and she gasps softly.

“F-fuck, Gidge.” Franky whimpers. “What the fuck?”

Bridget’s jaw has dropped, her lips gaping open as she feels Franky’s wet heat sinking onto her own. Franky is enamoured with the sight of Bridget completely incapacitated on the couch, her finger nails claw desperately into Franky’s hip bones and her flushed skin from her chest to her cunt is all bare for Franky’s eyes to see.

Their skin presses together and Franky slowly works up the confidence to rock her pelvis along Bridget’s slit.

“That’s it,” Bridget murmurs, “Good girl,” She drawls.

Franky slumps forwards, her hands slamming down into the couch above Bridget’s head, getting a better angle with her hips. Her legs start to shake with the effort of keeping herself tamed and gentle against Bridget.

Both of them keep panting, breaths deep and heavy. Franky’s hair curtains over her face, clinging to the damp skin of her neck and face and back.

“Gidge,” She whimpers, the syllables getting caught in her throat and crackling out with her breath.

Bridget’s hands arch in warm circles from the start of Franky’s ass up to her shoulder blades until Franky drops into a rough, testing thrust against Bridget and her hands scramble to Franky’s ass. She grips both cheeks in each hand and squeezes Franky in her palms, encouraging another harsh movement against her.

Bridget’s breathing gets faster and heavier as her hip keeps rutting up and she catches the perfect place against Franky’s clit.

“Gidge,” Franky moans her voice rising from gravel to a high pitched whimper, “Fuck, oh, oh, oh, fuck!”

Fanky’s movements start to become less controlled, the inelegance of them makes Bridget swoon. Her body rocks under the hammering pace of Franky’s hips and she rises to the challenge of meeting them.

Bridget pinches her eyes tightly closed, starving off the creeping orgasm she can feel is about to hit her like a train. Franky’s panting, moaning lips above her keep tipping her closer to the edge but she wants to wait. She always craves Franky’s orgasm first, Franky comes first.

The raven-haired woman starts to shudder, Bridget watches smitten by the pleasurable expression that captured Franky’s face. Her strong hands keep guiding Franky’s ass, helping her rock steadily against Bridget and she thrusts her own hips up to meet Franky’s cunt as she breaks.

“G-gidge, I-” She fumbles around the words caught in her throat, “Nnggh.”

It’s enough to make Bridget fall, her own movement turning sloppy as she frantically searches for Franky’s sex, craving as much ferocity against her clit as possible.

Franky, as observant as ever, pumps down into Bridget's core with the last of her energy.

“Franky, shit,” Bridget moans, “Oh, baby.”

Bridget’s chest drops back down as she starts to calm and settle into the cushion. Franky follows her down, digging her face into the crux of Bridget's neck when the woman’s hands sweep back up her back and she tangles fingers in Franky’s dark locks. Her fingertips massage gently into Franky’s skull and eventually the younger woman's breathing evens out.

“Franky?” Bridget whispers, unable to tell if she’s fallen asleep, “Baby?”

Franky only nuzzles herself deeper into Bridget's neck, the simple response says everything and it draws a soft smile onto Bridget’s face.

~~~

#franky x bridget #franky doyle x bridget westfall #franky doyle #bridget westfall #frankie and bridget #franky and bridget #frankie x bridget #wentworth #wlw #writing

44 notes · View notes