#cssfcm

[cannedsoupsucks]

This goes beyond desire... this is carnality at it's finest

watch your step (7)

Pairing: TF Boys x F!Reader Wordcount: 14.6K Warnings: gore. alcohol/drug abuse. kidnapping. eventual reverse harem. drunk smut. insecurities. frankie being a dick. benny being a king. Summary: Ben takes her out. A/N: wow this has been the longest time i've taken between chapters. truly sorry. i just have been all over the place and this is one i definitely wanted to get right. many thanks to @frannyzooey again and again for her editing/advice/support. i'd be a mess without her aid. the song i specifically feature in this chapter is Bob Moses's "Tearing Me Up". I got the inspo from this scene in Netflix's White Lines.

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Two weeks. Two fucking weeks and she thought she was losing her mind.

Frankie had completely avoided her. He’d left her half-naked on her bedroom floor. Still shuddering from the stretch of him. Still recovering from the heaviness of his body. His heat. She felt a distinct emptiness from his loss. Ripples in his wake.

She stared at the stain on her carpet. It was rust-red - nearly brown. She’d been unable to get it out and she’d finally brought in the big guns.

Will cocked his head before crouching to the floor. He rubbed at his jaw - beard rasping across his palm. “Did your legs open up or something?”

Something like that.

Her skin flushed at the memory. She’d never confess it and she highly doubted Frankie had told the guys anything. They treated her the same. There were no shared furtive glances or deliberate innuendo.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry I took so long to ask you. I just - I don’t know, I must have forgotten about it.”

She had absolutely not forgotten about it. She studied that stain like it was a piece of art she could not process. She thought it a reminder that she wanted to keep. She wanted to know that what happened between Frankie and her had in fact happened.

Saying that she had forgotten about it seemed like a flimsy excuse. It was quite blatant against the cream weave of the carpet. A dark smudge. A mistake. After Frankie continued to avoid her, she had finally needed it erased. It gradually became a punch to the gut every time she saw it. She’d tried her best to clean it herself, but it only smudged - only spread its edges outward into pale pink.

Will frowned at her. “How are they healing?”

That was so Will. He could care less about the fact that she had pretty much ruined her carpet on purpose. She bent down and lifted one of her leggings to show him. The cuts were there, but faint. They no longer hurt.

He reached out and traced the lines scattered over her skin. His touch was warm and gentle. It was almost unbearable.

“They look better,” he said in a soft voice. She nodded and then shoved the fabric back down. She stepped away from him and climbed onto her bed where Tom slept soundly.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, hoping it would break the tension that had now swelled in the air. There was always a thick tension: cobwebs of electricity binding them together. She had watched him kill and, still, she felt goosebumps of pleasure split her skin whenever he pinned her with one of those tenderly amused expressions.

He cleared his throat before lifting the bottle of bluish liquid that he’d come in with. He shook it a couple times before pouring it over the stain.

“What’s that?”

“Baking soda, dish soap and hydrogen peroxide,” he answered without looking up. He was focused - zeroing in on the carpet with his lower lip stuck between his teeth. He whipped out a brush device from his back pocket and began to scrub the liquid into the stain.

She tried to avoid gawking at him, but it was no use. His wheat-blond hair was tugged into a knot revealing the jut of his cheekbone. Her eyes roved over the muscles bunching in his back. His white t-shirt did nothing to hide all that definition. She could imagine being spread out beneath him - her nails biting in his shoulders before sliding down to clutch at the solid flesh around his ribs. She still recalled what he’d told her - what he’d promised her. She had yet to act on it. She already felt guilty enough that she fucked Frankie. That had been a mistake. It had been the heat of the moment. It had been a few minutes of insanity.

She glanced at Tom who was now peeking at her with one tiny black eye.

“Don’t judge,” she mouthed and his blush-pink tongue darted out.

Truthfully - she didn’t want to hook up with Will because she was terrified that he’d leave her like Frankie did. She wondered if she had played this all wrong. They were men who had sex served to them on a weekly basis. She was just this forbidden fruit they couldn’t touch and so of course they flirted with her. Perhaps once he’d fuck her, he’d be over it. She’d be something he had expunged from his system.

Frankie had bruised her ego. He’d rammed it into the dirt and thoroughly crushed it with his boot for good measure.

She’d slept in after they’d had sex. She’d practically drugged herself with melatonin because her skin was still vibrating - her legs and cunt ached and sleep would not come to her. When she’d finally awoken mid-afternoon - there had been a pale purple box on her nightstand. She knew what it was just by the damn color scheme.

Plan-B.

Emergency contraception.

Wonderful. She was mortified. She was completely ashamed.

Frankie had no doubt snuck into her room and left it there. She’d promptly burst into tears, which she would never fucking admit to anyone. She’d turned onto her stomach and shoved her face into her pillow and crumpled like a tissue. She hadn’t cried over a guy screwing her over in years and it had been one of Sioban’s golden rules: never let them see you cry.

That along with don’t mix benzos with alcohol unless you’re lying on a flat surface.

While she had sobbed in front of the men numerous times already, she had decided that those really didn’t count. Those were reasonable breakdowns. Those were about life and death and existential crises.

Frankie discovering that he had absolutely annihilated her self-esteem was unthinkable. That applied to all of them. She’d die if they knew.

“Finished,” he announced, standing up. “That mixture can sit there for a couple hours and then we can wash it.”

She smiled at him.

Tom barked excitedly - wiggling in her arms as he desperately tried to reach the man standing by her bed. A grin split Will’s pink lips and it was truly heartbreaking. He was so good looking it made her teeth hurt.

“Better pick him up before he freaks. You’re like the animal whisperer.”

Will swept Tom into his arms - scratching his neck and ears. “I like animals. They’re loyal.”

“You have obviously never had a cat.”

“I could make a cat loyal,” he shrugged. “It just takes a bit of patience.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Animals are very dependable. It’s why I use pigs for half of my disposals.”

She sat up - allowing that to sink in. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d mentioned a pig farm off-hand once. Benny had, too. She didn’t know why he still managed to surprise her when he had only ever been upfront about who he was. Will was a killer and yet she could so easily forget that fact as he cleaned her carpet on his hands and knees - as he cuddled a small, yipping puppy.

His gaze was fixed on her. His expression unreadable. His eyes were that shade of a storm-tossed sea. Light at the surface, but churning dark and foggy beneath the ripple of pale foam. His lips twitched. Her skin grew hot.

He reminded her of Gabriel or Apollo. This man with all his golden handsomeness. His features could appear so cruel before something made him laugh and they became a completely different shade of beauty.

Fuck - she was so into him that it was borderline-disturbing. She didn’t want to fuck it up. She didn't want to take hold of that string between them and have his end rip away.

“Funny,” he muttered as he stepped closer.

“What’s funny?” He took the hand not holding Tom and palmed her cheek. With his thumb - he slowly stroked over the place between her brows.

“You used to get these lines here if I ever mentioned something about my work. You’d scrunch your face up.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” he husked and then dragged his hand just a little lower to grasp the hinge of her jaw. He took his thumb again and rubbed it over her lower lip. She was melting - going to liquid right in the deep of her core.

He was warm. He was so warm all over. She wanted to press her face into his broad chest. She wanted him to kiss her. He leaned forward just enough before he paused. There it was - he was waiting for her to close the gap. He had put the decision in her hands.

“That after tonight - if you still want me to - I’ll fuck you.”

She did want to. She wanted it too much and therein lied the problem.

There was the possibility that he’d never look at her like this again. If she gave in - if he fucked her then the myth of her could crumple - could break apart and she’d no longer be this prize to be won. She didn’t want to lose him.

She sat back on her heels and disappointment twisted his gorgeous face. Tom struggled in his grip as he tried for the bed and Will let him go. She needed to puncture the tension.

“So,” she said. “Can I make you dinner as payment?”

***

In the last two weeks, she had gone out of her way to cook the boys delicious meals. Not for them, but for her. She was so anxious over Frankie that she wanted to fill her days prepping and chopping and only thinking about measurements and fresh produce. She lacked for nothing. She’d write a list and they’d supply whatever she wanted.

Pope had even started to come try the things she made. Of course, he’d bring it back into his office, but he still seemed to enjoy her food. He’d lean nonchalantly against the counter as he tasted it. The corner of his mouth quirking at the flavor as he chewed.

“Good?” she’d asked.

“Good.” And then he’d grab a plate and disappear into the hallway.

Kimchi fried chicken. Saffron-spiced bouillabaisse. Beef bourguignon. Salted caramel pots de crème. Flakey buttery dinner rolls. Dan Dan noodles. Strawberry and cream layer cake. Cornmeal waffles with banana bourbon syrup. A homemade hamburger helper that Benny took into his room and refused to share.

She’d had a lot of time on her hands.

She walked over to the fridge with Tom at her heels. He’d become very attached to her - often curling up right at her feet as she cooked. Will leaned over the island - dropping his elbows against the wood butcher block to observe her.

“Can I help?”

She spun around tossing a chunk of parmesan on the counter. “Not really,” she said. “You can grab me a box of pasta out of the cabinet.”

“Which one?”

She felt a twinge of delight at that. Will had always called pasta spaghetti, regardless of type, and she’d gone into an entire lecture about the variety and which went with sauce.

There’s tons! Bucatini, penne, fusilli, farfalle, rigatoni, tagliatelle, ziti, orecchiette -

Okay, okay I get it.

“Spaghetti or linguine,” she replied. “Whichever one you want.”

He tossed her the box and she placed it next to the cheese along with the pepper mill.

“That’s all you need?”

“It’s cacio e pepe! It’s ridiculously easy.” She put a pot of salted water on the burner and then grabbed a pan so she could start toasting the ground pepper.

They slipped into an easy silence. She could feel Will’s eyes on her - raking over her hands as she stirred the starchy pasta water, pecorino, and black pepper with the noodles. They did this a lot and it had become routine. She’d never had company this often. She had always been alone - incredibly isolated as she burrowed into that old house with her mother. She had only ever cooked for herself. Her mother had subsisted on saltines - chewing them to a gloopy pale mush and washing them down with a slosh of vodka. In the penthouse’s gorgeous kitchen, that life seemed far away. It seemed coated in a thick film of dust and one that she had no intention of cleaning off. She didn’t want to go back there.

As she passed Will a bowl of pasta, she leaned forward, pressing her chest across the island to watch him eat it up close. He took a bite and his face dissolved into pleasure.

“So good,” he hummed as he stuffed another forkful into his mouth. She grinned, spinning around to lick the salty buttery sauce off the wooden spoon. Benny would be here any minute and probably starving. He had to be fed every hour or he went all gremlin.

“So I overheard you guys talking about retribution,” she remarked casually. She had been sufficiently kept at arm's length when it came to whatever politics the boys were dealing with. She knew that Frankie had made a move that Santi had not blessed. She knew that he’d acted out on her behalf, which felt strange. He’d gone out of his way to avenge her and then treated her like she wasn’t even there. The day after their tryst, she’d heard Santi yelling at him in his office followed by Frankie’s low retorts.

“Are you going after Baron?”

“Yes,” Will said carefully. “But we are playing it safe right now. The situation is delicate.”

She chewed thoughtfully and then made a comment that she sort of meant as a joke and sort of didn’t. “What if he wins? Would he chop me up? Blow torch my face like in Hostel?”

Will abruptly dropped his fork and it clattered in his bowl. “What the hell? No! Who have you been talking to?”

“Frankie said he’s psychotic.”

“A lot of people say I’m psychotic.”

“Yeah, but - they don’t know you.”

“I torture people, Faire,” he said bluntly. “That’s what I do - what I’m good at.” He picked up his fork again.“And I’ve used a blow torch.”

She absorbed that revelation. It didn’t bother her like it should have. She had begun to see Will as he was in the penthouse. She saw him taking care of her when she’d cut herself. She saw him when he wedged himself between her knees and took her face in his hands and kissed her. All of Will’s previous actions had become flushed with a blurred filter. She couldn’t touch them

- taste them. She didn’t see Ironhead. She saw Will.

It could be a form of Stockholm syndrome. It could simply be that she could not remain in a state of permanent fear and anxiety because her mind would surely break under the pressure.

They had been kind to her and they had given her a reason for it. She didn’t have the emotional capacity to be terrified of the men when she had Santi’s brother after her.

She bit her lip. “All jokes aside - do you think he’d really make it hurt? Like would it not be quick?”

The second the words left her mouth, there was a subtle shift in Will’s features. His eyes darkened - his lips thinning to a hard line as his jaw clenched. He leaned toward her.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he stated in a serious voice. “That won’t happen.”

He declared it like it was law - like it was an absolute truth. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t promise her anything. She’d told that to Frankie. No one could promise her safety. No one was a hundred percent in full control of her life or her death.

He should know that, but she found herself unable to say it.

***

Frankie was spiraling, Benny thought.

He’d been acting strangely ever since he went full Liam Neeson down at The Wharf. He’d gone out nearly every night - slithering through the clubs - the casinos - their many bars. He was brooding. He was pissed. His skin on tight as if hooks were pierced into his back and stretching him to his breaking point.

“I’m worried,” Santi told him. He was sitting across from Ben in his office. The cityscape rose and fell at his back. The dying sun illuminated the skyscrapers and the bridge over the bay. There was a dull orange in the light. Autumn was coming. “He hasn’t been like this since the wreck.”

Since the wreck…

It was a mass of memory that collided into Ben when Santi brought that up. He was so good at burying it and with one word, it felt as if a meteor had crashed into him - knocking him off his axis. He cracked his neck - breathing deep in an effort to not let it unnerve him.

“Have you talked to him?”

“He’s giving me nothing,” Santi replied. “When I asked about the Wharf, he shut down. He felt justified in it.”

“He was pissed.”

“He was pissed because he’s got a hard on for Charles’s daughter.”

Benny squinted at him as if it was obvious. “We all do, man. She’s gorgeous.”

Santi rolled his eyes. “Regardless - he can’t let this crush start fucking him over. We can’t afford to have Frankie go off on one of his emotional blackout benders.”

“Say that five times fast.”

“This isn’t a joke, Ben.”

“Okay - okay,” Ben threw his hands up. “I know. He’s been weird. He’s been fucking a bunch of chicks while he’s been out. I walked in on him in the billiard room at Mayfair and I had to bleach my eyeballs”

“He’s seen you do worse.”

Ben glowered at him. He had a point. Still, it was strange. The last few weeks, Frankie had been with a number of women - all of them different. Fish choosing not to fuck the same girl wasn’t exactly unusual, but the quantity definitely was.

Santi massaged his temples. “Do you think he’s drinking?”

“No,” Ben said - fairly confident. “I think this is something else.”

Like he’s trying to get her out of his system. He’s trying to forget about her.

Frankie was Ben’s brother in so many ways. He read him and read him with a sharp eye. Like Ben - Frankie was probably trying to erase her via distraction. He couldn’t drink, but he definitely could fuck. Maybe - he was worried about how he’d lost his head. Raged. Maybe - he thought that the girl brought out a more feral side to him. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d acted so violently and without a solid plan.

Fish had just done it.

“We have to go out tonight,” Santi finally said after a few minutes. He steepled his fingers - rocked in his leather chair.

Ben blew out a breath. He wasn’t in the mood. “Where?”

“Saints.”

***

There was tension in the group. She had put together that much. She wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure if it was because Frankie had acted out and killed two people seemingly on a whim. She wasn’t sure if it was about her or Baron. It was probably everything.

She had - admittedly - been so distracted by Frankie ignoring her that she had yet to ask Pope about the rest of her father’s story. A part of her simply didn’t want to know. It hurt her too much to realize that her father had apparently nursed a paternal sort of relationship with Pope. It wasn’t fair. Here she was being punished for her father’s decisions. Here she was being stalked by Pope’s psychotic brother.

She was just a fucking girl. Boring. Unstable. Depressed.

She pressed her hips against the counter as she reheated the pasta for Ben. She could focus on this. She could run through the ingredients and the steps: salt the water, toast the crushed peppercorns, boil the pasta, add the starchy water to the pan, the pecorino, mix.

If she busied her mind the rest fell away. She sometimes even forgot that she had three bottles of white wine in the fridge.

“What’s cookin, good lookin?”

Ben sauntered inside wearing a pair of gray sweats and a ratty t-shirt. A backwards baseball cap sat on his head.

“Cacio e pepe,” She turned toward him and stabbed her wooden spoon at him viciously. “And never say that again.”

He cocked his head to the side. “But you look hot when you’re pissed.”

She glowered at him and he laughed. “Sorry - sorry - I won’t.”

He slid behind her, dropping his chin over her shoulder to stare down at the pan. He smelled like sweat and cotton. Musky. He’d probably spent a couple hours in the gym. “You’re gonna make me fat.”

She could feel his very flat stomach against her spine. “I’m trying my best.”

They spent the next hour ribbing each other as usual. Benny scarfed down her food while asking about her day. He even cleaned the dishes - bodily picking her up and setting her down on the counter when she tried to do it herself.

Will and Pope entered the kitchen by eight o’clock. Pope looked as he always did: darkly handsome and aloof in his pristine gray suit. Will was dressed in a far more casual outfit: black jeans and a white shirt and boots. The smoky essence of their cologne mingled in the air. The clinical smell of the basil soap Benny had used on the pans.

“Are you wearing that, Ben?” Pope asked - perplexed.

“Nah,” He settled next to her against the counter. He didn’t make a move for the stairs. He just stared down at her bare knee with an odd sort of focus.

Her gaze darted between the men. The vibe of it all felt unsettled - almost nervous. Frankie wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen him at all today though lately that wasn’t unusual.

Will stood over by the sink, crossing his arms. “Where’s -”

Frankie strolled into the room with a girl under his arm. Every head in the room turned to look at him.

The sight of it stunned her. She had never seen him with a woman. She hadn’t heard him with one like she had with Ben and Will. This smacked her across the face.

His face was pale - his stubble overgrown. She quickly glanced down as Ben clasped his hand over her knee - his thumb stroking the skin around it.

The girl giggled and it pierced her - thrust through her guts. Frankie’s date appeared elated to be there.

“Hi,” she said and the boys didn’t respond. An awkward silence sat bloated and inescapable between them. The girl glanced at Frankie, unsure.

Ben’s hand was a firm pressure on her knee. He squeezed it and when she finally looked up, she realized that Frankie was staring at her. His big umber eyes bore into her own and she swallowed.

This was the first time he’d actually held her gaze in weeks. The last time had been right at the beginning of their fuck. His expression was unsteady as he watched her take him to the hilt - as she whimpered and begged him.

His eyes roved over her face - his nostrils flaring - his jaw rolling. His arm heavy on his date's shoulders as she turned her body to seal herself against his chest.

It was too much for her. It was far too much.

She jumped down from the counter - brushing past Will and Pope to go upstairs.

“Have fun,” she shouted in the most cheerful tone she could muster. She felt tears at the back of her throat and she desperately tried to will them away.

***

Ben saw it almost immediately. The second Fish walked in with whoever that was, her expression shuttered - curled in on itself like she was about to cry. Something had happened between them. He had put that much together. Frankie had gone from following her around to completely avoiding her.

What the fuck was he playing at? Frankie didn’t bring girls to the house unless it was after a night out. This made it look like some sort of date.

It’s why all of them had been too shocked to respond to the chick.

This was a deliberate move. He wanted to hurt her or fuck with her.

Had he said something? Had she?

He doubted it. She didn’t seem to take things too close to heart seeing as they’d kidnapped her and now they were on speaking terms - cuddling terms, even. Frankie wouldn’t have given a shit if she had called him every name in the book and then burned his room down.

This was deeper. This was bad.

Had they hooked up? Kissed? Fucked?

It was likely. Maybe - Frankie was now trying to shut her down in the most ridiculous, roundabout way? That was Fish. Always doing the most irreparable damage to try and find a solution.

“Ben,” Santi cleared his throat. “Go get dressed.”

Ben glanced at the stairs where the girl had fled. He felt a tightness in his chest as if he had violent heartburn.

He was pissed. Whatever had happened between them didn’t mean that she deserved Frankie treating her like that. She’d been through enough. She was barely holding it together as it was.

He had a very strong desire to speak to her or at least make sure she was okay.

“I’m going to stay here,” he replied -tone brooking no room for argument. His gaze flew to Frankie who had - if it was possible - gone even more stone-faced. He could see his fingers curling into a fist - his dark eyes focusing on the place she’d just vacated.

Benny analyzed people. He was quite good at it, which was entirely why Santi trusted him to work their clubs - lube up their connections for lack of a better term.

Ben would never be able to get it out of Frankie, but Faire? He could.

He was going to figure out what was going on and he’d need to get the girl in a better headspace. He would settle this and settle it tonight.

***

She rushed into her room, slightly hating herself for it. She needed to get out of that kitchen. She needed to just be alone. There was a sensation like glass - ugly and serrated - twisting through her stomach.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

She curved her fingers into her palm so hard that her nails bit through the skin. This was so fucked. She should have never slept with him because now it was ruined. Now - she could barely tolerate seeing him with another woman. She knew what he felt like inside of her. She recalled in perfect detail how thick he was - how heavy his body was on top of hers - the ferocity with which he claimed her on her bedroom floor. He’d kissed her like he wanted to eat her from foot to cunt to head.

She sighed - pressing her fists into her eyelids until black spots sprang and burst across her vision.

After twenty minutes or so, she heard the boy’s steps in the foyer below. The distinct click of heels on marble. Bitch.

She heard the front door open and shut.

Thank God.

She released a heavy breath. She could crawl into bed and sleep or watch shitty television and hopefully not hear when they came -

“We’re going out,” Benny announced from the doorway.

She jerked - hand flying to her chest.

He was dressed in dark grey pants and a navy shirt along with a black bomber jacket. He held up an enormous bottle of CasaMigos - the liquid sloshing as he shook it. “We’re pre-gaming and we’re gonna go to my club.”

She gaped at him.

He grinned - obviously pleased that he’d surprised her.

“Are you drunk? We can’t leave.”

“I’m not drunk and we can leave. I’ve got business, anyway. It’s an excuse.”

“Ben…”

“Yes?” He was already strolling over to her closet - no doubt ready to sift through the numerous dresses that Pope’s personal shoppers had purchased for her.

They couldn’t go out. There was a price on her head. A big one.

But - it’d be fun.

She wanted to go out with him. She did. Benny was the most persuasive. It was his gift. However, she’d also nearly been killed only a few weeks back. Her prison had gradually become her safe haven. It was a comfort and one she was now terrified to leave. “Is that a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Baron?”

Ben waved his hand dismissively. “The club we’re going to is my club. Baron wouldn’t show up there and his lackeys certainly wouldn’t.”

“Someone could tell him.”

“Someone could, but he still isn’t going to do shit,” he assured her. “I have about a hundred people including security working for me there.”

“What about Tom?”

“We’ll leave him with the guards. Gerry loves that little dude.”

She chewed on her lip. She was still nervous, but there was also the bubbling ache of jealousy over Frankie. Sitting at home would make her fiend with anxiety and probably drink the whole damn bar and then she’d burst into tears outside his room or something equally pathetic. She wanted to forget. She wanted to have a good time for once. She didn’t think she’d had a real, true night out since even before her mother had died. She’d lost most of her friends since graduating college due to her own self-imposed isolation.

She needed to forget.

She had no desire to focus on the fact that she had been fucked and totally cast aside. Frankie could barely look at her and it hurt. She was shocked that it hurt so fiercely - that her chest and lungs got stiff whenever he avoided her gaze. Was she hideous? Had it been terrible? Did she not do a good job? She had just laid there. She’d been so consumed - so off kilter because it had felt so sweet. She had just taken what he had given her.

“What about the guys?” she implored. “Pope gets hives every time I walk near the front door.”

Ben shrugged. He turned toward her and held out a silvery minidress that sparkled beneath her buttery bedroom lighting. “They’ll probably be mad and I’ll probably get chewed out, but I’m willing to risk it so that you can have a good time for once.” He sidled up to her - his eyes round and expression playful. “Let’s go get fucked up and dance.”

She couldn’t help the smile that burst behind her lips. He was just too fucking fun. He was a killer and he had drugged her and kissed her and fucked too many chicks for her to count and still he could tug the glee from her. He was so talented at making her not think. Benny’s eyes fell to her mouth and he nudged his knuckles across her cheek.

“C’mon, Faire. Let's go be bad.”

***

The hem of her minidress rode up her thigh the second she slid into the backseat. She tried pulling it down, but it was no use. The strappy shoes had a thick heel, at least.

Benny got in next to her and offered her one of the red solo cups he was holding. She took a sip: Tequila. Soda. Splash of grapefruit.

“Did I get it right?”

“Mmhmm,” she grinned behind the rim.

“Nice,” He spread out next to her - thighs falling open as he threw his arm over the back of her seat. She didn’t mind. Ben took up space, but it was never in a way that felt domineering or rude. “By the way - you look hot as fuck.”

“You told me that already,” she pointed out. “In my room and in the elevator.”

“Well - it’s true.”

She snorted and immediately tried to muffle it behind her hand. She felt giddy. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her - at least for a few hours. Ben’s nonstop compliments were also doing wonders to her ego.

She relaxed into her seat as she looked out the window. She hadn’t seen the world from this level in ages. She digested the thick, rolling mass of the city as the SUV cruised through the streets. They were headed toward the marina - a once very shitty part of town that was now extremely expensive. The lights blurred and fuzzed - melting into streaks of brightness across numerous industrial-type buildings. This was the art’s district - famed for its pop-up art installations and murals and strange sculptures. A concert hall. The latest farm-to-table restaurant where you’d find menu items like beet pancakes or fish roe bucatini or freeze-dried liver with truffles.

She used to run around down here during college. It had weirdly been the best couple years of her life. She’d been away from her mother. She could spend her day going to class and then the library and then party until her feet ached. She’d been out of her fucking mind, but that had been the beauty of it. She’d been a good student in highschool and it was like she could let it all go once she’d left home for the short period that she was able. Of course, she’d also spent her entire junior year doing non-stop molly until the comedowns got so bad that she couldn’t sit with herself for more than ten minutes at a time. There was no joy in spending each Sunday rocking back and forth in your tiny dorm room bed either crying or vomiting.

She’d had zero self control, which was proving to be a facet of her personality. She was getting older and very much not wiser.

She glanced at Benny who was intently reading his phone. He’d slicked back his dark blonde hair and a strand hung over his eyes. He really did have ridiculously nice hair. Thick and the color of honey. The screen illuminated the sharp line of his nose and the jut of his lower lip.

“Do you have an instagram?” she asked.

Benny shot her an indignant look. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you always reading your phone?”

“Wikipedia pages,” he drawled as if she was an idiot for not knowing.

“Pardon?”

“I go down Wiki rabbit holes and read about weird shit,” he clarified before handing her his phone. She scrolled up to see the title of the article.

“Why are you reading about codpieces?”

“I was originally on 14th century armor,” His tone defensive. “Sometimes the links just take you for a ride.”

“You’re so strange.”

“You love it.”

“A little.”

“A lot.”

“Is Will this weird?”

“He tortures and dismembers people for a living.”

“Point taken.”

Benny chuckled before sliding closer to her. He smelled remarkable: smoke and musk and mint. His expensive cologne was pressed with spice.

“So what about you, Ms. Faire? Are you a little weirdo?”

Yes,” she replied without missing a beat.

“Go on.”

She took another sip of her drink. The red plastic crinkled between her fingers. She’d have to pace herself. “I don’t know - I was just one of those kids who grew up thinking something was wrong with me. I couldn’t figure it out. I was very in my own head. Fantasized a lot about being anywhere but where I was.”

“So that makes you weird?”

“I don’t know. I think kids could smell it off me. I was just different and I tended to keep to myself.”

“I can see that.”

“I also used to stroll around our garden talking to fairies while wearing a wig.”

He blinked at her. “Yep,” he finally replied. “There it is.”

***

It was still warm outside as she stepped out of the car. The wind swept off the bay and ruffled her hair. It smelled briney - clear and crisp with that fertile tang of the sea. Lichen. Seaweed. Damp moss soaked rocks.

She studied the rows of ugly warehouses. There was no indication that this was a club aside from the extremely long line that spilled from its enormous door. She saw the fine print along the side of the front door. It’d be almost impossible to see unless you searched for it. A place that didn’t need to promote itself due to its exclusivity.

She did a double-take.

“Wait,” She grabbed him by the wrist as he led her to the bouncer. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “St. George’s is your club?”

“Yeah,” he said as if it wasn’t a huge deal.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Is it really that impressive?” He continued to drag her to the door. “Damn - should have told you sooner.”

“It’s impossible to get into! I think I’ve tried maybe ten times.”

“Who didn’t let you in?” His words aghast. “I”ll fire them.”

“Oh shut up.”

***

The first room into the club blew her away. The entire space was a blend of extravagant reds, velvet and dark-wood interiors. Like The Chapel - the vaulted ceiling was covered in art. Opulent paintings of St. George fighting a sinister dragon and the lush beautiful princess at his side. There must have been red gems inlaid into the surface because they sparked and spat like flames. There was a faux historical gloss to the place which was then contrasted by high-shine, modern furniture. Lacquered tables and chairs. Geometric, futuristic chandeliers that hung heavy.

She wanted to stop. She wanted to take it all in. She wanted to stare at the ceiling for hours, but Ben was hauling her after him and she could barely keep up with his long legs.

The next room was narrow, almost a great corridor. The ceiling was made up like the night sky. Violet-blue with scattered pendant lighting that blinked and twinkled. It made the space seem bigger than it was - taller. The true beauty were the trees that lined the path. Olive trees in granite podiums - their branches tangled and knotted as they formed a canopy over them.

“Holy shit,” she gasped as Benny led her further into the club. There were many rooms. Rooms leading into rooms, which made it like an experience. Some areas were oppressive and womb-like - others open and breathable.

“Here we are,” he called over his shoulder as they reached what had to be the main area of the club. Her mouth fell open.

The ceiling was a prism of neon multi-colored lights: cerise, violet, coral, mint, cornflower blue, and burgundy. Blown glass like handful-sized bubbles covered the lights so that they shimmered and bounced in a ripple. There were even neon flowers that hung between the bubbles, bathing the dance floor in a wash of various shades.

A giant screen stood at the far rear of the space. It played what looked like music videos as image after image revolved on a loop. Slicked up dancers. The bright berry lips of a pop star. A boy band from the nineties in white jackets and pants. There was an enormous bar - obsidian and shiny. Booths of various colors dotted the edges and when she looked closely she noticed that some of them had curtains. It was very modern with a geometric flare. It even had tinges of Art Deco. Highly stylized. A wonderland, really.

“Do you like it?” Ben asked - his mouth ghosting her ear.

“I’m speechless.”

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ve gotta network and then we can get a table.”

***

She knew that this was dangerous. Forbidden. Will would rage. Pope might kill her. She didn’t care - not a lick because Benny’s hand was firm around her own. He didn’t meander through the room but slice through it. He was sharp - quick with every note he had:

That’s Drago St. Claire - he owes Santi like a hundred k.

See that chick back there - yeah her - that’s Sylvie - she’s my eyes and ears in this place. We’ve known each other since I was thirteen.

Oh fuck me - I have to talk to this guy. Do you mind? He fucked up a job down in Santo Domingo and if I don’t do it then it’s gonna be Will and we know how that goes.

She was stunned. She had known that Benny ran Pope’s clubs. She had understood that he had responsibilities and that he was most likely good at what he did.

But - this?

Benny was an orchestrator. He dripped through the room - bloomed like the swell of the sun. The crowds oriented around him - many seemingly knowing who he was and treated him with a subtle reverence. He gave orders out of one corner of his mouth while schmoozing out of the other. He knew the most insignificant details about the people who worked for him:

How’s Mary’s ballet class?

Did you fix that pipe that blew in your basement? I can send a guy over.

Really? He dumped you? Well - fuck that guy. You can put all your drinks on my tab tonight.

He kept her pressed to his back - his grip fierce on her wrist at all times. No one seemed to notice her - no one really paid attention and perhaps everyone thought she was just one of his girls - one of the several he had because the boys did have several. She briefly wondered if any of those women would be here.

She hoped not - she enjoyed being like this with him.

She watched him - admired him. He really was gorgeous - that smug, golden shine gilding his features. His prominent cheekbones and sharp jaw and big white teeth. His height, too. She felt safe with him - huddled in his shadow as he guided her with a solid, heavy arm.

You okay? You want another drink? I promise we can relax after I do the rounds.

It had become gradually apparent to her that Benny looked out for her. He was her friend more so than any of the others. Sure there was Will, but that connection was like a livewire. She could barely interact with him without feeling a shock that sparked her blood. Making eye contact with him was like clamping down on a power generator. Santi was cordial. Frankie was…? Well - she wouldn’t go there. Not tonight when this was all meant to be a tool to forget about him.

There were no catches with Benny. There was nothing, but him asking her if she wanted to get out of that glass prison and cut loose.

Maybe - it was a bad idea. Maybe - it was incredibly foolish.

But her gaze was pinned to him and it was like seeing Ben in every new light imaginable. Every stand-out cut of footage that had been their film. Every dramatic fucking angle.

The music continued to pulse beneath her feet - it buzzed hot under her skin. She wasn’t drunk, but the tequila had lifted the cold, black stone that had settled in her gut the last few weeks. She twisted her hips - bobbed her head. It made the air churn with a sweet kind of sensuality. It made her hum with sensation.

Benny gifted her a disarming grin as he spoke to one of the security guards near the end of the bar. His gaze trailed over her - flickered across her chest and the span of her waist as she swayed subtly with the music.

She flushed deep. It throbbed over her bones. It turned her inside out. Molten fucking heat.

“What?” she mouthed and his grin spread wider.

She was about to punch him in the shoulder - smack him for taunting her with that expression when his smile completely disappeared. His face went completely flat.

“Ben!”

The throaty voice burst through the thump of the music. A body shoved past her before pouncing on him.

Marissa.

She was in a backless, silky red top and black leather pants. He returned the hug half-heartedly, but his gaze stayed firmly on her. That familiar pain in her chest began to rise. She felt a tiny bit ill.

Should she go? Should she leave them?

“Hey,” Benny said before quickly stepping away from Marissa. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I searched for you at Saints!” she exclaimed - wrapping her arms around his shoulders - sealing herself to his chest. “The boys said you stayed home, but Gwen texted me that you were here. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She gripped his face to tug him down to her mouth and he staggered backward.

Ben - who was usually so smooth and elegant - seemed utterly caught off guard. He stared at her helplessly as he tried to dodge the brunette’s outstretched hands.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Marissa snapped.

She wanted to be anywhere, but here. She felt awkward standing behind them - shifting on her too-high heels and her short dress. Marissa was gorgeous - effortless in her leather and silk. Ben had complimented her - had told her how good she looked, but still - she felt like she might bust out of her own skin.

Benny’s jaw tightened and then he gestured to her over Marissa’s head. “I’m actually here with someone.” His voice wasn’t rude, but it did lack warmth.

Marissa twisted around and finally noticed her.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “Hi.”

She sounded both pissed and stunned. Her narrowed gaze trailed over her from her feet to her chest to her hair. Her expression was hard as if she was doing her damndest not to sneer or bare her teeth. Marissa was itching to do something to her. She could feel it.

The bitch probably win if she was being honest. She really needed to build up her strength again.

“Hi,” she returned. She really didn’t know what else to say.

“Funny,” Marissa lifted her glass to her lips while crossing her other arm over her stomach. “I thought you were Frankie’s.”

For a second - she thought Marissa somehow knew that she had been with Frankie. But then she recalled that morning in the kitchen when she had first arrived. Marissa had stood there - staring at her blankly while Frankie shoved her behind him.

“I get around,” she drawled flatly and Benny’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

“Seems like it,” Marissa replied. Her tone clipped with barely-veiled resentment.

Marissa chewed her lip before finally whirling back around - decidedly ignoring her existence.

“You wanna come see me later?”

Ben made a non-commital grunt, casting her an irritated glance. He slid around Marissa to get to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ll see you,” He yelled over the music before dragging her away.

He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. “Sorry about that. She’s kind of needy.”

Kind of. The bitch wanted to skin her.

She didn’t respond, choosing to take a heavy sip of her drink as he guided her to the booths. The burn was delicious and she was just the right amount of buzzed. Marissa could fuck all the way off.

***

Ben always got the best table in the house. The bottle service girl had left a giant silver bowl filled with ice and various alcohols and chasers: Tequila Reposado, Bourbon, Vodka, Champagne. Tonic. Grapefruit Juice. Cranberry.

He poured her a drink - his eyes drifting over her unreadable expression. She was strangely quiet and Ben guessed that it was about Marissa.

Fuck. He had not meant for that to happen. He hadn’t seen her in a week or so - totally blowing off her texts. He poured himself a bourbon and scooted closer to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Benny narrowed his eyes before taking her chin between his fingers to pull her face close to his. “You’re pissed.”

“I’m not.”

She was. He could see that reserved look she tried so carefully to uphold begin to leach from her face, making way for something heated.

“You are,” he accused. He drew back from her. “Marissa?”

There it was. A very bright spark of anger flashed behind her pupils. A twitch. The alcohol was no doubt sliding through her veins and making her a little less guarded.

His eyebrows lifted and then he chuckled low and gritty. She scowled before trying to slide out of the booth. “I can leave-“

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. He practically pulled her into his lap. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He lowered his voice and his breath was hot and damp across her brow. “I’m having the most fun I’ve had in a long ass time.” He circled his thumb over her forearm affectionately. “Now - why do you think I’d ever ditch you for Marissa?”

She bit her lip and he had to stop himself from touching it.

“Because you guys fuck?” she offered lamely.

“I fuck a lot of people.”

“Ugh,” she huffed as she ripped her arm from him and snatched her drink. She swallowed half of it and wrinkled her nose.

He sighed - tapping his fingers against the tabletop.

“I fuck a lot of people, but I do not usually take any of them on dates,” he explained. She paused, opening her mouth and then shutting it again. He laughed. “You don’t need to be jealous, Faire. Isn’t it obvious that I want to spend all my fucking time with you?”

Her eyes widened and it was a sight. She really was beautiful tonight. He hadn’t been just buttering her up. She looked genuinely happy and it did wonders for her coloring.

His attraction to her pulverized his ego. Ben had gotten any girl he wanted. Any. Girl. It was a joke at this point. The boys had constantly teased him about it.

Ben got women hung up on him. While the other men fucked women and immediately kicked them out the door, Ben was too playful. He’d let them hang around him - chill in his bed until he’d inevitably forget they were there. They’d get the wrong idea, of course. Mistake Benny’s flirtatious and easy nature for true affection. He was approachable, the others were not.

She tilted her head and arched one perfect eyebrow. “Why do you like me?”

“You’re hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“That’s a great attribute! We love hot people in The Cardinals.”

“I hate you.”

He grinned and then placed his hand on hers - twining their fingers together. She let him. “Alright,” he said. “For real. It’s because I think you’re fucking hilarious when you don’t even mean to be. Just deadpan humor. You talk to me like it’s easy - like I don’t owe you something or you owe me. You’re a culinary goddess and I’d eat your food forever.” She simpered at that - the corner of her lip twitching upward as she brought her glass up for a sip. “And you one-hundred percent touch yourself to the thought of me.”

She choked on her drink - spitting tequila across the table before she slapped him hard across the chest. “You’re such a little dick.”

He gasped - attempting faux outrage. “What are you talking about? I have a huge cock.”

She giggled. “Uhuh.”

“You’ve seen it!”

“Okay - okay - it was pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice,” he snorted, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Pretty nice, she says!”

She prodded him in the bicep. “And I do not touch myself to the thought of you!”

“Of course,” he said - incredibly amused. “How could I ever accuse you of such a thing?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in air. The sight of it made his cock throb. Her eyes glistened beneath the flash of colored lights. He wanted to know what had happened between her and Frankie without outright asking her. He was pretty sure he knew, but he’d have to be tricky about it.

He took a healthy gulp of his drink - letting the alcohol warm him. He shrugged out of his jacket, baring his arms. Her eyes danced over his exposed tattoos; the black tree with its shadowy branches, the skull, the dragon. All of them scrawled and slithering along his biceps and forearms.

“You know,” he said slowly until her gaze flitted back to his face. “You know who has the biggest dick?”

Her brow furrowed.

“Fish.”

There it was. She started, her lips parting and her eyes widening before she lowered her eyes to his thigh.

A wrinkle creased her forehead and he knew he’d hit the mark. The red and blue lights clashed and streaked her face. He could literally sense her skin beginning to burn - to flush. He studied her intently and decided to just say it.

“You guys slept together,” he surmised. He didn’t want to use fuck. He felt like it was too crude - that it might upset her.

She turned toward the table and dropped her face into her hands. “Yes.”

“Hey,” he soothed - stroking her back. “It’s fine. Honestly - good for you. He’s got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

She laughed into the cup of her palms. It was muffled, but it stank of bitterness.

“Alright - what’d he do?”

She didn’t answer. Fuck - he’d kill him.

He set his drink down and wrapped his arms around her waist. He hauled her into his side, burying his nose into her hair. “C’mon, tell me.”

She blew out a breath. “He didn’t do anything. He just - he just fucked me and left and now hasn’t spoken to me since.”

And was blatantly fucking other women to forget about her.

“It’s not you,” he told her before frowning. “Well - I mean - it IS about you, but it’s not your fault. He probably just flipped out about taking advantage of you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Babe -,” He raised his hand - lifting a finger with each point: “You were technically our captive. You’re way younger than him. You’ve been traumatized on multiple occasions since you’ve been in our care.”

All shit he regretted, but what could he do about it? That’s why he took her out. She needed to breathe.

She gripped his shirt - knuckles pressed into his stomach. “You don’t care?”

“That you fucked Frankie?” He traced his fingers up her arm before moving down - a gentle, soothing pace. “No - I’m jealous that he got to, but not upset that you did it.”

She nodded. The side of her face was firmly sealed to his chest. His heart was thumping - pounding - clattering against his rib cage. He burned for her. He knew it was cliche and sappy, but it was the truth. He burned for her in so many ways - in too many ways to count. She was gorgeous, but she was sweet and if he couldn’t have her, he’d understand.

He’d hate it, but he’d understand.

She lifted her face to meet his.

“Tonight isn’t about him,” she declared.

Benny offered her a soft smile. “It’s okay if it is.

She sat up straighter - clasped him around the neck. Her mouth was a breath from his own. “I like you, Ben. I think about you all the time.” Her eyes darted to the dance floor before they returned to him. He kept his hands on her lower back - his fingers catching on the sequins.

She leaned forward - just enough that his nostrils flared.

“I thought we came here to dance?” she murmured.

Ben grinned.

***

It was everything that she had needed. Bob Moses’s “Tearing Me Up” spilled from the speakers - thumped against the walls. The sensual, brooding beat of it swirling within her.

I don't know what you want from me

So careless in your company

I will follow what you say is true

There'll be no getting over you

“I love this song,” she shouted at him as he yanked her against him.

“Oh yeah?” he laughed as he pressed his chest against her own. His shirt was soft as it slipped through her fingers - his body hard - unyielding. “I’ll have to make a note.”

So we're now playing by your rules

If you're a joker then I'm a fool

I guess there's no catching up to you

She twirled and he moved with her. His enormous hands held firm to her waist and it was all so much. The music pounding between them like the flush of a pounding heart.

If you don't want my affection

Don't lie, you're tearing me up

Cause you've got all my attention

I won't lie, you're tearing me up

She was hungry for this. She clung to Ben as all of her insecurities fluttered into nothing. She felt ripped down the middle - burning inside and out and all of it felt good. Frankie had left her wanting. He had fucked her and left a hole in his wake and Benny knew. He knew and he didn’t judge her for it. He held her closer.

“You having fun?” His mouth at her ear - his hand on the nape of her neck.

“Too much fun,” she replied as he lifted her up and spun her. She felt eyes on her - thousands of them as the lights spiraled and circled and warmed the tops of their heads. Ben was a prince here - a king - Baby-Faced Benjamin and everyone probably wondered who this girl was in his arms. He laughed into her cheek and she tugged at his hair.

Was Marissa watching? She hoped.

She was drunk off the music as she plastered herself to Ben. Their sweat intermingled - his mouth smeared against her temple.

I'm trying to tell your intention

When you lie, you're tearing me up

If you don't want my affection

You won't mind, you're tearing me up

She had come to a realization about Benny as she watched him work. He had this particular expression - a superiority in his sharp-toothed smile. It was a mask - a boyish, wicked veneer for Ben Miller. He’d seduce you with that caramel voice - deep and thick as molasses. You’d stick to it - unable to free yourself as it wrapped tenderly around you and then when you’d least expect it, he’d make his move. He’d kill you or hurt you or demand something you’d have to give.

However - when he interacted with her there was nothing, but startling sincerity in his grin. He was animated. He was charming. He was so warm and lovely that it honestly snatched her breath.

They danced and danced and danced.

And then somewhere along the way the sexual tang to their movements escalated. His hands on her squeezed and stroked. Her grip on him was forceful and desperate.

Her back was sealed to his front as he held onto her hips. She could feel the blunt pressure of his cock against her ass. The line of his jaw swept against her brow as he spoke in her ear with a gravely: “You’re so fucking hot - I want you - I want you - I’ve wanted you”

Between the tremble of the music, the pressure of the hot air and the vibration of the floor she fell into him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her clean off her feet and her hands flew to his face. It was all so sudden as he lunged forward and captured her mouth in a kiss that blinded her.

He drew back momentarily as he dropped her to her feet. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek and then her jaw before he dragged it over her lip and then he licked into her mouth. The beat of the song thrummed and shook through their bodies. It echoed through their kiss.

He was forcing her backward and she went. She stumbled on her heels and he caught her easily. His mouth wouldn’t leave her. It was as if he was glued to her and could’t tear himself away even if he wanted to.

The kiss blended into something else. Furious. Frantic. She knew where it would go and she didn’t want to stop. She tasted the sweet blush of whiskey on his tongue. He cradled her face - held her firmly as he plunged his tongue into her parted mouth. She wanted it again and again - sloppy loose - spinning out.

Her shoulders hit a wall. He crowded her - his arms braced on either side of her head. She could see nothing, but him. His lips were swollen from kissing - he looked disarmed - rocked. She wondered if she looked the same.

The dance floor behind him was just a trembling mass of figures. It blurred and rolled together as a unit. No one paid attention. No one could see and if they did she didn’t care. He regarded her for several seconds as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start.

Finally he sealed himself to her, his hand sliding down her body before she felt it teasing between her thighs. He swept his fingers along the soft plush skin before slipping them against her clothed cunt. She gasped and he removed his hand.

He nosed at her temple. “It’s up to you, baby. We can stop now.”

She shook her head and wrapped her small hand around his larger one - she forced it against her cunt. “Do it,” she panted and he pinned her with a dark smirk that broke her. He hooked his fingers around her panties and shoved them to the side. He slid his fingers through the slit of her pussy. He dipped into her shallowly before tracing up to rub her clit - up and down and up and down at a taunting pace. Her voice keened and she had to bite the inside of her mouth.

People could see. People would know.

Did she care?

“Trust me,” he drawled. “They can’t hear you. Make all the pretty little sounds you want.”

And then he pushed his fingers into her.

She exhaled sharply. She clutched at his bicep - nails digging into the thick muscle. She rocked against his hand as he thrust and curled to the knuckle. His thumb swirled against her clit and she jerked in his arms. She dropped her forehead against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “That’s it. Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

He exhaled, pressing his mouth to the side of her head. He said her name. He repeated it - the letters punctuated by him shushing into her hair as he urged her to come.

It didn’t take long. She was already so worked up. He kept pressure on the peak of her sex as he fucked her with his fingers. Her climax swelled behind her cunt - made her belly tighten and her skin feel too hot. Her pleasure grew and grew - pulsing inside her with the same rhythm of the music playing above them. It hit her forcefully and she came hard enough that her legs nearly gave out - her thighs trembling around his hand.

Ben drew back to look at her. She’d never seen that expression on his face: it was hungry and dark and fucked out. His gaze was lazy - his eyes hooded as his tongue darted out over his lower lip. He eased his fingers out of her and held them up to the light. It was obvious that they were covered in her - glossy as they caught the colors fluttering through the glass bulb ceiling. He stuck them in his mouth and the sight made her clench again - made her nearly collapse. His brow creased - his eyes narrowed to slits and his nostrils flared. He released his fingers with a crude pop before his damp hands grasped the hinges of her jaw so he could crush his mouth to hers.

She tasted herself. The fleshy salt of her own pussy and Ben’s spit along with the cloying bite of alcohol. He was sealed to her. His body was so large that he could cover her completely - hide her from view. She could feel the bulge of his cock against her stomach.

“Do you wanna leave?” he husked between kisses. She could barely breathe - barely think. She clutched at him - fisted the back of his black shirt now wet with sweat. “Could fuck you in your bed.”

No. No. Too far.

“The booth,” she suggested - although there was a pinch of command behind it. “The booth.”

***

She was out of her mind, but she honestly was past the point of caring. The booth was private enough with its curtains and the screaming bass of the music.

They stumbled into it. His hands all over her. Her fingers caught in his clothes.

“Sit down,” she ordered before she clambered onto his lap.

She straddled him - her thighs spread over his - the hemline of her dress practically above her ass. She cupped his face to stare at him - to admire how good looking he was. She felt powerful like this. This was a give and take situation. This was more than just her getting fucked.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped- expression blushed with awe.

She gripped him tighter. “You don’t even know me.”

“Nah,” he contested before leaning forward and pressing a wet kiss to her throat and then the edge of her jaw. She shivered. “I do know you. I know that you try really fucking hard to look strong. You like to nurture people. You don’t like to be nurtured unless we do it by force. It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”

She splayed her hand out across his cheek and he nuzzled into it. “Uncomfortable?”

“You don’t know what to do when people want to take care of you.”

“No,” she agreed. “I don’t.”

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. She didn’t know herself. She didn’t know what she was doing or how her desire for Ben had now wrecked her insides. She’d wanted him since they’d kissed in the penthouse’s bar. She needed him in an almost biological way. “Fuck,” he muttered as he dragged her back to his mouth. His lips slanting and pressing - tongue behind her teeth as he devoured her with an unshakeable urgency. It was like he couldn’t get enough. “I’ve wanted this - thought of nothing else.”

“Me too,” she replied because it was true - because this was so different from Frankie. Ben was beneath her and declaring his longing for her - his desire for her over the rest. Worship.

He could feel his fingers trailing over her slick heat. She was soaked from her earlier orgasm - probably staining his pants. “Sit up,” he urged and she did - lifting herself onto her knees with her hands braced on his shoulder. He sunk a finger into her and then a second. She couldn’t hear what it sounded like with the echo of the music, but she could imagine it.

Ben groaned. “Fuck - fuck - I want to get my mouth on you.”

She grasped his belt - fiddling with it until she managed to undo it and then his button - his zipper. His cock sprang free - thick and hard and dripping. She could feel it in the dark - see the shadow of it beneath the onslaught of pretty lights.

He gripped the nape of her neck - his fingers digging into her flesh. He ground himself into her - the strength of him undeniable.

“You want me to fuck you?” He said in that low voice of his - deep and from his chest. “Make you feel good?”

“Yes,” She nodded frantically. “Please.”

Ben hitched her underwear to the side as she helped line him up and then -

Shit.

“Condom,” she whispered. “Fuck.”

His face fell momentarily and she almost cried.

“Kidding,” he grinned before reaching into his jacket for his wallet. He fished the small square package out and ripped it with his teeth. “I’m highly responsible.”

She laughed before smashing her mouth to his in the clumsiest of kisses. “Thank God,” she practically sang against his parted lips.

He slid the condom on and she could feel the blunt press of the head of his cock pushing against her. She could feel how hot he was. She could feel all of him and ever so slowly she sunk down on his length.

His mouth dropped open.

“Fuck, baby,” he ground out. “Your pussy -“ his forehead fell against her chest - teeth scraping the top of her breast. “-fuck - it’s so good.”

***

Ben couldn’t quite believe it. He’d thought they’d fool around - maybe make out on the dance floor, but he certainly didn’t expect this.

He stared up at her and felt his heart shutter in his chest.

She was illuminated with a brand new type of energy. She fisted her hand into his hair - nails scraping across his scalp. She rolled her hips forward and back as she impaled herself onto his cock. Her cunt was tight and slick and molten as the blood rushing under his own skin. He wanted to pick her up and drop her on the table - spread her legs and fuck her on top of it - slide down and lick himself out of her. He wanted to feel her spasm around him - jerk with her climax.

She smelled good like jasmine and tequila and the bite of citrus.

“Please.” she begged as he met her stroke for stroke. He planted his feet and canted his hips to meet her easy rhythm. It wasn’t necessarily frantic - not a screwdriver kind of fuck. It was deep and slow and inexorable. He pressed hard into her - his hands splayed over her pillowy ass. He could see her throat working - her nipples pebble under the skimpy dress.

He dragged the neckline down to bare her breast. He lunged forward - sucking the tip into his mouth - swirling his tongue with a practiced talent. He edged his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

“Ben,” she whimpered. “Benny.”

He wondered how Frankie fucked her - he wondered how it felt and so he found himself bursting out with it. It was strictly a curiosity. Kind of.

He tugged her down so he could keep his mouth to her ear. “Did he feel good, baby? Did he fill you up just right or leave you wanting more?”

She stuttered, drawing back to gauge his expression - maybe to see if he was being serious. A smile spread across his face and he tightened his grip on her hips - he pushed deeper into her and gave her a perfunctory thrust that sent a high-pitched yelp from her mouth.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Pleasure enriched her features - her lashes fluttering in bliss. He wanted to fuck her as if he could fuck her throat. He wanted to inhale her.

“It’s different,” she murmured as she brought her face an inch from his. “This is different,” she repeated with more meaning. They were breathing harshly into each other’s mouths, now.

“Tell me how it felt, baby — did he make you come like I’m gonna?”

***

Did he make you come?

She couldn’t even remember. It had been so fast - so different. Brute passion. With Ben, it was erotic and sexy and slow and quick and everything. Frankie was big, but Ben’s cock was piercing something vital inside her - it turned her inside out.

Ben had seduced her. Ben had taken her out. Ben had freed her from the penthouse and treated her like she was something special. He’d ignored every girl who’d walked up to him. He only had eyes for her.

It screamed inside her. Wailed. Benny.

His thumb was hard against her clit. He was circling - tweaking - in time with each snap of his hips. She rode him - held firm. Her knees chafing on the leather of the booth. The straps of her heels marking her ankles. There were masses of people grinding and dry-fucking just outside these curtains. The music beat inside her head.

Her second climax rushed through her. It lit up her veins and twisted around her ribs. She shuddered against him and he kept on going. His cock like steel - shearing through the sloppy mess of her spasming walls. Everything was so wet and overheated. Her dress was rucked all the way above her hips and cool air drifted over the bare skin of her ass and thighs. Her panties pushed to the side as it scraped against her folds and Ben’s length.

It was a storm of sensations: the thumping bassline of the techno song, the brilliantly colored lights, the sweat slippery on their skin, the blunt heavy pressure of his cock stretching her open as he drove up into her.

“You’re such a little fucking weirdo,” he grunted, kissing her chin. His pace staggered - his body trembling as she clung to him. She held him - embraced him in her arms in an almost maternal fashion. She cradled his face against her tits while he fucked into her. Every second he grew harder - thicker - and she knew he was nearing the end of it.

“Yeah,” she mumbled - breathlessly. “You, too.” She combed her fingers through his hair. He released a groan that vibrated through the silk of her dress. She felt him twitch and pulse inside her as he finished.

When she drew back, she almost burst into laughter at the look on his face. His lids were drooping - his hairline beaded in sweat. He gave her a lopsided smile and smacked her ass.

“Shit,” he said. “Fuck.”

“You’re really a Casanova with that kind of talk,” she teased and he smacked her ass again.

***

When they left - it was as if the club had spiraled into delirium. She had no idea how much time had passed. All she was aware of was the soreness between her legs - the wetness drying along her thigh. Benny’s arms wrapped around her as he sealed himself to her with his chest at her back. His chin dug into her head as he practically carted her forward and out of George’s. His frame loomed and dominated. People made fucking room for them as they cut through the crowd. It felt safe and it felt good for him treat her like the fucking sun after he’d finished fucking her.

He dropped his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Wanna go get McDonalds?”

***

The car ride home was painted in an other-worldliness. That pale blue dawn that turned their skin and swept over them inside the car. She was lying on her back - her head in Benny’s lap. His fingers were greasy from salt as he periodically shoved his hand into the McDonalds paper bag.

This was the hour she used to stagger home after a night out. Alone usually. Drunk or coked up and she’d crawl into her ugly bed with another beer or three in order to pass out. There’d be the song of morning birds - the honk of workday traffic - all of it acting as a symphony that clashed with her violent hangover. It had been the worst. It had been nightmarish.

Now - it felt like magic. She felt pretty. She felt wanted as they were driven back to their home.

Condensation gripped the windows of the car. Her body relaxed as they held each other in comforting silence. Nothing, but the tremble of the road beneath them, the click of the turn signal, the scratch of her sparkly dress on leather.

Silence. Easy Silence.

“Where’s my phone?” he finally grunted as he searched through his coat. He plucked it from his pocket and turned it on. His eyes widened - almost comically.

“Oh shit.”

***

Santi had dealt with stress before. It was in his nature - adhered to his bones as if he had been fucking born with a too-fast heartbeat. It had been the worst when Mateo broke away from them. When his father had refused to listen to him despite the fact that he had set Santiago up to be his heir. He had never understood it. That time had been critical. The best moment for the Cardinals and the Apostles to align. Charles had given his full support and still his father pushed back.

What did it matter now? He thought bitterly. It was done. It had gotten so bad and it wasn’t only because of Charles’s daughter. This whole fucking fight had been a long-time coming.

Mateo now had a reason to move in on his turf.

Santi stared out the great window of the living room. The city twinkled and blinked. It stood long and tall and went on until it hit the pink dawn that was rising at the horizon. This whole city had been a mass of labor and blood and -

He turned back so that he could watch the front door. Will was silent as he sat in one of the velvet chairs. He was leaning forward, hands curled into fists. There was anger simmering beneath his expression that Santi had no desire to unlatch. He knew that Will cared about the girl - certainly more than he cared about any other woman Santi had ever seen him with.

They had to be careful. He didn’t want Ironhead to break Benny’s face, which seemed more and more likely as time passed.

Frankie was stiff - leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes on his boots. He’d been tense the whole fucking night. He’d been distracted even when they were out.

When they’d gotten home and realized that Ben had run off with the girl, he’d sent his date away. He hadn’t even given her a cursory glance.

“You need to leave,” he growled and she went - bewildered and insulted.

There had been at least ten minutes of absolute chaos. Will tore the house apart. Frankie got on the phone. Santi had interrogated the guards. They had just seen them leave with Ben’s driver. They figured it was fine. Ben told them nothing.

Santi worried that Mateo had possibly threatened them or done something that would force them out. He had felt it in his guts - a real twist of fear that he had failed them somehow.

He didn’t need this. He didn’t need this on top of Frankie losing it. He didn’t need the fucking guilt of her dying when he could have prevented it. If Mateo took her - if he touched her…

Santi shut his eyes - the thought of it made him ill. He couldn’t go there - at least not yet.

“They’re at his club,” Frankie had finally announced - his lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. He looked alarmingly exhausted.

“Doing what?” Santi asked - incredulous.

“Dancing apparently? Drinking? Sylvie said that he came in with a girl. She thought it was a date.”

“Ben doesn’t date,” Santi grumbled at the same time that Will remarked: “It probably was a date.”

Santi squinted at him. “Is Ben that stupid? She could be killed out there.”

“Ben’s Ben,” Frankie shrugged - his expression completely unreadable. He appeared slightly upset.

Santi didn’t know what the fuck was going on. It had become increasingly apparent that all three of his men held some sort of infatuation for her. Frankie was trying to make her jealous. Will hung around her every moment that he wasn’t in the basement. Ben had now disobeyed Santi’s orders and taken her out to what? Impress her, he guessed? To Santi’s knowledge, Ben had never gone that far for any chick.

Yes - she was lovely to look at. She was sweet. She was stupidly good at cooking, but Santi drew the line there. He had to. He could not entertain the thought of touching her because he wanted to do right by her father. He had kept her far away.

Even when she had thrown herself into his lap - tears streaming down her face as she begged him to let her go, he refused to comfort her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t blur the boundaries that he had very carefully set up.

He glanced at the dog fast asleep on the couch.

You did get her a puppy. Were you blurring the boundaries there?

Santi grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The noise of the front door opening tore him from his thoughts. He lifted his eyes to see her stumbling inside with Ben at her heels. The puppy yipped, springing from the couch and bounding over to her. She let out a squeal of joy as she kneeled - scooping him up and pressing her face to the dog’s. After a moment, she glanced at the others and her smile fell.

Santi couldn’t think clearly. He was pissed and he also was highly distracted by the fact that this was the first time he’d really ever seen her in anything other than work out clothes. The dress was obscenely short. The heels elongating her legs. She had make-up on though it was slightly smudged. Even he had to admit that she looked sexy. Okay, maybe gorgeous.

Santi couldn’t control himself as his gaze washed over her before it zeroed in on her mouth. Her lipstick was smeared and Santi cringed. Ben you fucking didn’t -

“Where have you been?” Will said in a soft voice. The question was loaded - bubbling with that rage he kept so carefully buried.

“George’s,” Benny rolled his eyes and the girl leaned into him. When Santi studied her more closely, she looked slightly disheveled. She seemed dazed, but her lips were curved into a pleased - lazy sort of smile.

“It was so fun!” she said as she did a light turn on her heels. “Prettiest club I’ve ever seen.”

She was slurrying just a bit.

“Ben,” Santi articulated slowly. “This is serious. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Benny narrowed his gaze before he strode over to the bar. “She’s fine,” he said. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her.”

He reached for a glass and Santi grabbed him roughly by the arm - tugging him backward. “You can’t guarantee that. Mateo isn’t a fucking idiot. If he had seen that as his chance, he would have taken it. You can’t stop him.”

Ben ripped himself away from him and moved back toward the girl. She reached for wrist - her mouth forming his name under her breath. He shot her a wink before turning back to the three of them.

“Nothing happened,” Ben snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. His cheeks were rosy with a buzz. “We had a good time. She got out of this place for a bit. Get the fuck over it.”

“Why are you treating this so casually?” Santi crossed his arms over his chest.

Ben regarded them for several moments before quirking an eyebrow.

“She needed a night out,” he said carefully, with a deliberate weight to it. He pinned his eyes directly on Frankie - something unsaid passing between them. Santi suspected Frankie knew what he meant, in the way Fish looked at the ground. Still he was struggling to fit the pieces. Ben continued. “A lot’s happened to her. Give her a break.”

“We’re not blaming her,” Frankie finally pointed out. “This is on you.”

Ben scowled. “Dude - you have no room to talk.”

“What does that even mean?” Santi asked, but both men ignored him.

Will remained utterly silent as he sat in the chair. He clenched and unclenched his fists. The muscles in his jaw ticked and his nostrils flared as he regarded his brother with a pointed rage that was beginning to prick the surface. Santi paused.

He had seen Will truly angry a handful of times in his life. He was too controlled. He compartmentalized. But Will had been anxious over her - scared, even. Santi realized he needed to diffuse this before anything happened. That was more important than tearing into Ben.

It seemed as if Ben noticed Will, too because he hesitated before stating. “It’s not healthy to keep her locked in here. I might have gone about it the wrong way, but honestly I don’t really give a shit.”

Will’s eyes darkened even more if that was possible. Santi was at a loss. He couldn’t believe that they weren’t listening to him - that control of this situation was thoroughly racing from his fingers. Ben never pushed back. He’d complain or whine or joke, but he’d never so staunchly defended his actions like this. Actions that were fucking wrong.

He had to be into her. He had to like her far more than Santi realized. This wasn’t just sex or flirting or whatever they had done at the club. It was different. Now - it was interfering with Will and Ben. Frankie, too.

It came out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“This is why we don’t keep girls around.”

It was stupid to say. She wasn’t even just one of those girls. It sounded ridiculous now that he thought about it. Still - he had said it.

She blinked at him - her mouth parting.

“Santi, man-” Ben said before she cut in front of him and faced Santi.

“Then let me go if I’m causing so much trouble!” Her tone struck him as defensive. The words were thick in her throat - almost wet. She was getting wound up and Santi wasn’t sure how to react. She simply did not understand that going off with Benny had been a terrible fucking idea. Nothing had gone wrong, but it could have. People had seen her. There could be ramifications. He didn’t know how to get this concept through to her.

His own anger began building inside him. Burning. Scratching.

He lacked empathy especially when he was furious. He could be terribly blunt and this time was no different.

It burst out of his throat before he could stop it. He stormed toward her. He needed to push her away. He needed to build up those solid boundaries because everything was getting out of hand.

“Let you go? Who is gonna protect you, sweetheart? You have no friends. No family. You think you can just run off? To where? There’s nothing for you outside of this house.”

She flinched. A beat passed. A startling break of silence.

It was as if the air was sucked from the room. Santi immediately regretted it. He wanted to take it back.

She had to understand. She had to know that her life was on the line and her death would not be an easy one if she were to be caught by his brother. He had to.

She clasped her hand over her mouth and for a horrifying moment Santi thought she was going to cry.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I-”

She dropped her hand and narrowed her eyes to slits. Her teeth flashed.

“I didn’t ask to be here, you fuck.” Her gaze flickered between the three of them. Frankie grimaced and stared down at his feet.

Will held it though - his eyes boring into hers without a single ounce of regret. He stood up and stalked toward her. “I don’t fuck around when it comes to your safety” he disclosed. His tone was cutting and blunt. “Get mad. Stomp around. But - Ben could have gotten you killed tonight.”

“I wasn’t,” she shot back. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”

Will didn’t respond. His expression had gone flat - coldly blank aside from a tiny glimmer of something, which stirred and spat beneath his eyes. The vein in his neck throbbed.

Ben came to her defense.

“You need to chill out, man,” he growled and pushed against his chest. “I know how bad you want to fuck her, but - “

Will slammed his fist into Ben’s cheek and he went down. It happened in a flash - a single flaming moment as the tension finally burst. The girl cried out and dropped to her knees beside Ben’s sprawled form.

“What the hell, Will?” She gripped his face. There was an ooze of blood trickling at the corner of his mouth. He thumbed at it, his expression surprised.

“Shit,” he husked as he stared up at his brother. “You’re actually mad.”

Will surveyed them both for a couple seconds. His lips curled and his jaw clenched. That endlessly cold mask had appeared, fitting him like a second skin. Without another word, he simply turned around and stormed up the stairs. The entire room deflated. The sunrise was streaming in through the enormous windows. Santi was done. He needed to sleep. He needed to not think for a while.

Frankie made for the stairs and Santi followed.

[cannedsoupsucks]

I appreciate how you didn't have Pope and the reader immediately have sex. It felt real that they shared a couple of kisses and are now taking some time to process how they feel and how they're going to move forward. I also admire Frankie because I don't know how he's not feeling jealous. I know I couldn't do it!

Caught On - Part 4

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

Word Count: 7,705

Rating: Explicit. (language, sexual acts, sexual contact with two separate men)

Summary: This is it: the moment when things change between you and Pope … what happens between the two of you - and how do you handle it? But just as importantly, how do Pope and Frankie handle it? 

Author’s note:

I am so damn sorry that this has taken so long to get out. I didn’t forget about them, I just got really sidetracked with other things. But we’re back! Thank you all for being so patient with me. 

Catch up here: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

He would have stopped if he’d wanted to. You knew that - you knew exactly how he would have reacted - freezing and then straightening all the way up, pulling himself away from you and out of your hold, hands leaving your body without hesitation as he turned away and spluttered out an excuse. But Pope didn’t do any of those things, and before you knew it, he was kissing you, the man’s lips soft and warm against yours. 

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

I'm so excited about this because I love post-apocalyptic stuff!

Until the World Goes Cold 1

Find my masterlist

Here we are! Chapter one of this. I have no idea how long this will be. I have no idea how often I’ll update it (but I will I swear). Y’all can thank @ohheyitsokay​ for being my cheerleader on this one and convincing me to work on it while the plot bunny was whacking me over the head. 

Warnings: Descriptions of disease, mentions of violence, lawlessness, collapse of society. Please mind your own mental health on this one, my dears. It’s darker than I usually go.

This will be Frankie Morales x f!reader. Eventually. 

Word count: ~900

Nobody expected things to get this bad. And not this fast. 

It started, as these things do, with one. Just one. 

One infected traveler changed the world. 

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

Oblivius Epilogue III (After)

We've come to the end of the epilogue and I hope you all enjoy. I am always prepared to dive back into this world, I genuinely love this story and want to talk about these two at all times so don't be shy!

Thanks for sticking with this story and for getting so invested.

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader (Spills)

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader (Spills)

Word Count: 6.1k (it is what it is)

Warnings: Angst, Smut 18+ (NO MINORS) p in v sex, slight dirty talk descriptions of an injury, (trigger warning - talk of ptsd & anxiety, talk of counselling) Language, Fluffy parent stuff. HEALING.

(Please let me know if I’m missing anything!)

Masterlist Playlist

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

Luna was glued to her father, screaming whenever he left the room and you could see the separation anxiety on her face and in her actions. Just like you could see the guilt on his.

He spoke to her softly, cuddled her longer than he would have before. He played with her despite the pain he must have been feeling and you had to step in more than once.

“Francis, take it easy - you’re barely healed and you have to go to physio tonight.” Your words quiet as she squealed with joy. He always looked at you as if he’d been chastened. You knew he expected you to be angry, to yell and scream at him when you’d gotten home and at first you’d wanted to. You’d thought about all of the things you’d say to him but they never came, instead there was a quiet separation. A massive drift between the two of you and it was so much worse.

“I know, but I can’t say no to her when she’s so happy to play.” He was looking at her but speaking to you. She was running around the couch - coming to crash into him as he sat down with a wince.

It had been a couple of weeks since he’d gotten back and he looked a lot better - he’d gained back a few pounds and the external wound had healed but there was still pain from the break.

You let him carry on.

“I’m going for a little walk with Mateo. Be back soon.” You didn’t give him a chance to join you.

I want to be alone.

The day was a little cloudy but the wind was nice, it felt stuffy at home and you’d taken to going out with the stroller for at least an hour every day. It gave you time to process your feelings and think about what you wanted to happen between the two of you, it gave you time to cry.

You could sit on the little bench near the ocean and cry in peace - without him wanting to comfort you, without your daughter seeing. You knew he saw the swollen eyes and tear streaks on your face when you got home but he never said anything. He knew there was nothing he could say.

At night when the two of you lay together it was like there was a wall between you, the time away was a barrier blocking you from each other and you didn’t know what to do about it. He apologized, profusely. When you’d gotten into bed that first night he’d cried and begged you to love him, to forgive him for his decision and for causing you so much worry. For missing the birth of his son. You’d both sobbed, clinging to each other in the dark - and you had told him he was forgiven, but come the next morning something had shifted.

It was the same when you got into bed later on, after tucking Luna in and after Mateo was asleep in the crib next to you. You’d both gotten into bed and it was awkward. There was no laughter, no talking about Luna and the funny things she said. There was no sex. There was just silence, and distance.

You facing the crib, and him facing your back, while you were awake that is. In sleep it was different - your body didn’t care about your feelings and it brought you both together. You’d wake up curled into each other. Whether it was you draped over his chest, or him curling onto your back. Without your mind to stop you - the distance disappeared, but it would be there in the morning. Awkwardly pulling away from him when the baby would cry.

---

Your parents were spending the day at your house, trying to keep up with Luna and cooing over Mateo. It had been a couple of months since Francis had gotten home and things weren’t getting better. If anything - they were getting worse.

You were washing a dish in the kitchen, sunlight streaming in as you rinsed the glass. You could hear your dad laughing with Luna - the tv playing softly.

His arms wrapped around you from behind like they had a thousand times. The wall of his chest pressing into your back and it was in you to turn around and hug him. Kiss him the way you would have before, but your mind rebelled.

“Go relax honey, I’ll take care of this.” You could hear the smile in his voice, feel his breath ghost along your neck and it was too much. You pulled away.

“It’s fine. I got it.” You didn’t look at him, you knew that if you looked at him you’d see the sadness in his face, you felt it though. Saw the slump in his posture in your peripheral vision when he slinked away and so did your mother. She was entering the kitchen and you knew she’d seen the whole thing.

“You can’t keep punishing him.” Her voice was low, she didn’t want anyone but you to hear.

“Stay out of it mom.” You said the words, but they had no bite. In reality, it was exhausting but no matter what the anger wouldn’t leave.

“Listen, you know I don’t pry into your life and I don’t want to start now but he’s a good father. He’s a good man - he loves you to death and although you have every right to be angry and hurt over his decision you have to decide what you want to do here.” She was leaning against the counter, staring at you and you sighed.

“I don’t know what to do, I want to forgive him - I love him. I just can’t, I get angry every time I look at him.” You took a deep breath as you spoke - not wanting to cry.

“Do you want to split up?” It was a simple question but you frowned at her.

No of course not, I don’t want to split up. I want things to go back to the way they were. I want to be happy again.

“No, don’t be ridiculous.” You scoffed at the idea.

“Well you’re acting like you do. You’re drifting away from him and eventually he’ll give up. Your partnership needs forgiveness, needs understanding and if you don’t know how to get there then get help. Go see a counselor, but stop this. It’s horrible for both of you and your kids deserve to be in a loving home, with the way things are, you're both ghosts.” She came over to you and hugged you, and you knew she was right. You walked back into the living room and sat beside your dad and watched Francis sitting on the floor with Luna. She was curled into his lap, her little hand curling a strand of his hair behind his ear over and over. An act of comfort you remember doing when you were little and your heart softened.

Tentatively you placed your hand on his shoulder and he gave you a heartbreaking smile when he looked over his shoulder at you. He said nothing but you could tell he’d been craving this. His free hand coming up and covering yours instantly.

I’m sorry Francis, I’m trying.

---

That night things felt much more awkward when you got into bed, you could see that he wanted closeness, he always did but you didn’t think you were ready just yet.

“Francis?” Your voice cracked slightly, nerves and fear of what he might say.

“Yes honey?” His hand inched closer to yours.

“I think we should do couples therapy.” You blurted out the words and instantly you felt lighter. He was quiet for a little while.

“I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever you need in order to forgive me, I’ll do it.” His hand brushed against yours, softly and you intertwined your fingers with his.

“I want to, I really do. I just think I need help with processing my anger and I don’t want to keep shutting you out. Can you be patient with me?” You were looking at him in the dark, the moon glowing on his face through the open window and he nodded softly.

“Of course.” He fell asleep holding your hand.

---

He was sweating - could feel his shirt sticking to his back as he drove to the counselor's office for their first appointment. He knew she’d be angry, knew it the whole time he was stuck in the cot in that jungle. Had been sure she wouldn’t even show up at the airport, and when she had he cried like a baby. That she would take him back despite his monumental fuck up was a miracle, but that’s as far as it went.

Things were different and he couldn’t stand the look on her face when their eyes met. There was a hurt there that he knew he was responsible for. He wanted to hold her, crush her to him and never let her go. He wanted to feel her wrap her arms around him - he wanted to feel her nails on his scalp. It wasn’t there though, there was a divide and he didn’t know what to do about it.

When she told them of the counselling he’d been scared - terrified that she’d been so close to leaving that they needed professional help but that couldn’t be it. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to go through with this. This surely meant that there was still love there and that she wanted to get back to normal just as badly as he did - they just needed help.

He’d give it his all for her, he’d do anything for her.

---

The building was nondescript. A regular everyday building that blended with the rest of the architecture downtown. The waiting room even more so. It had that fake feeling that every waiting room has. Old magazines with curling edges fanned across a tasteful yet boring coffee table. Chairs that were neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Taupe walls and drab blinds. You knew it was meant to feel soothing, nothing too loud or boisterous but it just felt stuffy to you.

“You okay?” His voice was soft and you vaguely wondered why these rooms always inspired silence.

“Yes, just a little nervous.” You gave him a small smile and he held your hand in his, pressing the back of it to his mouth for a small kiss. His facial hair tickled you slightly. You’d missed the casual affection, not realizing how much you’d taken it for granted.

“Me too, but I’m going to be honest and give it my all.” He smiled and you both waited in silence.

-

Her office was bland, everything about it blending in with itself - all except her. She was colourful. Bright clothes and bright white hair. She looked to be your mothers age but her hair was all white and so was her smile.

“Come on in, make yourselves comfortable.” She gestured to matching chairs with a little table between and you sat awkwardly. She let you get settled - a big friendly smile on her face and once you were settled she took off her glasses and crossed her legs.

“So, a little bit about what it is I do - I’m basically here, to help you either come together in a healthy way and give you ways to resolve your problems or infidelity or anything that might have happened - or part ways amicably. I know it’s a little jarring to hear but not all couples work well together and it’s healthier to let go. At the same time - sometimes the couples who are quick to call it quits could have stayed together with the right conversations. I’m here to help guide those conversations. Now-” She pulled a notepad from the table beside her, and looked at what she had written. “-I believe you let me know over the phone that you’re not married, but you’re in a committed long-term relationship with children correct?” She was looking up at both of you.

“Yes, that’s right.” Francis answered and you could tell he was nervous.

“Lovely, there’s only one thing I’m goint o ask of you in this room and it’s honesty. I need you both to be completely honest with me and with each other - that is the only way this will work.” She was looking at both of you with a patient expression. “I’m going to ask you questions - and then I want you both to answer as honestly as you can, without fear - do you think you could do that?” She watched both of you.

“Yes, I can.” You answered, Francis nodded.

“Perfect. First question, and maybe the most important- what are your expectations for counselling?” She watched you both and you saw Francis fiddling.

“I want things to go back to the way they were. I want help.” You blurted out your words and you saw him watching you. “I don’t want to be angry anymore, but I don’t know how to let go of it.”

She nodded - “And you?” She looked at him.

“I want to be forgiven.” His voice was sad, and you couldn’t help but watch him as he spoke, he didn’t look at you as he was speaking to her. “I know she says I am and I know it takes time but it doesn’t feel like I am. It feels like she can barely stand to look at me. I want her to love me like she used to.” He ended his sentence and it was like a blow to your stomach.

“Do you feel as though she stopped loving you?” She prodded, and you yourself were curious. You knew you’d been cold - you’d been reserved and there was that invisible wall between you but the fact that he thought you didn’t love him hurt. You could barely contain the love you felt for him.

“It’s not that exactly, I know she does-” He looked at you then and continued speaking. “-it just feels as though something’s been lost, like you don’t see me the same as I see you. It feels like your feelings towards me have been turned off. We used to be friends before and now it feels like we’re roommates.” His voice was a little shaky and you realized he was afraid.

“We won’t get into the incident just yet but I’m going to ask you a personal question. Have you been intimate since it happened?” It was a clinical question.

“We haven’t had sex no.” You answered.

“That’s normal, most of the time when there’s a big rift the sex dries up and that can weirdly enough make things worse. Especially for those who have sex a lot.” She was writing some notes on her pad.

“Sex aside, are you affectionate with each other? Or has that gotten a little cold as well?” She was writing more notes. You didn’t get a chance to answer.

“Cold. I’m an affectionate person - if I could I’d wrap myself around her constantly and before we would touch a lot. I could kiss her whenever I wanted - cuddle in bed. It’s not just sex, I miss the closeness.” He was true to his word and was honest.

“And that’s changed, you feel as though you can’t approach her in the same way.” She wasn’t asking, he nodded. “Do you not want him to touch you anymore?” She was looking at you now. You thought about her question, it didn’t seem that simple.

“No it’s not that, I don’t know what it is. I think about it, about how much I missed him and how badly I wanted him home - then I remember he’s home now. He’s here, he’s sorry and he’s trying. He’s giving me my space and taking it slow, but then he hugs me or he tries to approach me the way he would before and I snap. I get angry all over again and I pull away.” You couldn’t stop the words, they bled out of you - an angry wound being leeched. “I want to be okay. I want to not be angry anymore and I want to work through it because the alternative is unthinkable.” You sighed.

“This is good. I can see that you both genuinely want to work on it and get back to the place you were before the incident and I’m confident we can get there.” She smiled at the two of you and you felt hopeful. “Do you trust each other?” She was looking at you.

“Yes. I trust her. Implicitly.” He answered quickly and then looked at you. You were frowning.

“My first reaction is to say yes. Yes of course I trust him, but it’s different.” You were a little confused - your heart and your brain at war with each other. He didn’t interrupt you but you knew that he was hurt.

“What do you mean by it’s different?” She waited for your answer.

“Well, yes. Of course I trust him - I trust him with my life, with our children's lives. I trust that he loves me, that he wouldn’t cheat on me and that our relationship is solid and we’re in it for the longhaul whether we’re married or not. I don’t know though, when he left I thought it was selfish, and while he was away I thought he was dead and aside from breaking my heart it made me so angry. It pissed me off that he would leave me alone in the world-” You took a deep breath. “-I sound insane.” You looked at him and he looked so guilty, it made you feel bad, it wasn’t your intention to keep throwing it in his face.

“It sounds to me like you don’t trust him with his own life. You don’t trust him to take care of himself the way you need him to take care of himself.” She was speaking gently. “You don’t trust him with your future.” She was watching you and you didn’t respond, but you felt the tears coming.

The thought that you’d had no more time left with him had been so horrendous that it had ripped you apart. You had been so fucking angry that he’d taken away the life you’d imagined for the two of you and now that he was back all you could think about was how easily it could be taken away. He reached over and held your hand and you let him, clutching at him like a lifeline.

“Okay, our time is almost up but this is a great start and I genuinely believe this will be beneficial. I have some homework for the two of you. I need you to show each other some physical affection. I’m not saying go home and have sex but hug. Hug each other for five full minutes, or cuddle in bed. Discuss whatever feelings you have as they’re happening, don’t need to analyze or rationalize - just tell each other what you’re feeling. We can discuss everything next week.” You watched as she spoke and you decided you would do whatever it took.

---

You were quiet on the ride home, both of you taking in everything you’d discussed and when you got home it felt as though things were a little lighter. Not back to normal but there was a spark.

He let you set the pace throughout the night, waiting until you were ready. When Mateo was asleep you walked over to Luna’s room, you heard her talking with her father and you didn’t want to interrupt. Instead you stood just outside the door watching as he lay in her bed with her. She was draped over his chest, her hair was a tangle no matter what you did to it and it was in his face. She couldn’t sleep without a bottle of milk, and she nursed it as he read to her. His voice was soft, his hand rubbing up and down her back, coaxing her to fall asleep and it warmed your heart to watch them. At the same time - you felt that anger bubble up again.

You could have lost this. You could have taken this away from her.

Normally you would have shooed it away but you couldn’t keep ignoring it. You were still angry, you left them alone.

“Seems like she’s staying up later and later.” He spoke softly, everything he did was soft these days. All in hopes that it wouldn’t bother you, wouldn’t push you over the edge and it made you a little sad to think he was uncomfortable in his own home, but then again so were you.

“She’s a spitfire and I’m both proud and terrified.” You smiled at him and he smiled back. “Feels kind of awkward, making time to cuddle. Never thought about it before.” You said the words to him as he turned off the lights and made his way over to the bed, he stopped by the crib to check on Mateo but you knew he was out for a few hours at least.

“Yeah, I took it for granted. Miss it a lot though.” He got into bed tentatively, he looked so soft. His hair was long and fluffy - his pyjamas were soft and you could smell the clean scent of him. His body wash and Luna's hair. He opened his arms and waited for you to come to him.

When you got into place, a wave of emotion washed over you.

“Is this okay?” He spoke into your temple and you nodded. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” He stroked your arm softly. Your face was pressed up against his neck, your leg creeped up and draped over him almost of its own volition and you sighed big.

“I feel comfortable, I’m happy - I missed this so much. I missed you Francis.” Your hand mimicked his and you rubbed his chest through the soft material of his shirt. “I’m angry. I don’t want to be- I want to be over it and get back to normal but I keep thinking about how you’d be missing this if you never came home-“ you shifted to look at him as you spoke. “-Luna wouldn’t have you to tuck her in anymore, your son would grow up never knowing you. You were hurt so badly and we didn’t even know.” He listened as you spoke and you knew the words hurt him but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I’ll never love anyone the way I love you Francis, and I thought you died. I thought my world had ended and you’d left me alone with two children.” You buried your face into his neck to stop the tears but they came anyway. He tightened his grip on you.

“I know honey. I thought about all of this while I was away and I was terrified. I don’t ever want to be away from you and the kids and I don’t want you to have to worry. I want us to be okay. I want you to know that I’m here and that I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed your forehead and it was so soothing that you sighed deeply. A giant weight had been taken off your shoulders and even though this wasn’t the cure, it was a start.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him.

“I’m feeling better, I need this. I need to be able to be close to you, I need to know you love me.” He said the words tentatively, almost afraid of the answer. “I feel like I have to talk about what happened to me over there because it was traumatic and I’ve been keeping it in.” His fingers fiddled with the hem on your shirt and you realized you’d barely talked about the incident. You knew he’d crashed and that he’d hurt his leg but aside from that you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry Francis, I know it must be hard dealing with all that. We should discuss it.” You kissed his cheek and you felt him take a huge sigh of relief.

“We have time.” He had a little smile on his face, and you knew he was right. It was only supposed to last five minutes, but you didn’t let go of each other all night. You were navigating through the storm and you needed to hold onto one another.

—-

You woke up before him the next morning and not surprisingly, he was clutching onto you. His head was resting on your chest, his big body draped over you and you fought the urge to pull away.

Why am I so angry? I’m scared, I’m terrified that you’ll leave me again.

You forced yourself to look at him. Forced yourself to take in his features, to study the face you loved so much and you were again struck by how beautiful he was. You knew there had to be a change, you had to forgive him and use the trust you have for him to assure yourself that he wouldn’t do this again.

His lower lip was slightly pursed in his sleep and it almost made you laugh to recognize Mateo in the gesture. You kissed him lightly, light enough that he didn’t wake up, instead he tightened his grip - until Mateo cried. You pulled away from him to tend to the baby but you made sure he felt you kiss his forehead. You needed him to know you were trying.

---

Over the next few days he noticed the changes. She was trying and they had made progress.

More often than not her hand found it’s way into his, she would walk by him sitting at the kitchen table and run her fingers through his hair. She would tentatively rest her head on his shoulder.

The counselor asked them more questions and they opened up wounds that he didn’t know he carried, gave him insight into how she felt and vice versa. He knew there were things he couldn’t say in the sessions - and they had everything to do with the legality of what he’d done. He’d done things he was not proud of. Illegal horrible things and they weighed heavy on his mind and it was obvious that if he wanted to move forward, he had to let them go.

He focused on the trauma of the crash, on getting hurt and thinking he might die and leave his family behind.

“Do you think about the crash a lot? What does it feel like when you do?” She asked him at one of their later sessions.

“Yes - I think about how terrified I was while flying, I think about how I could have killed my friends and myself. It feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest and it translates over to when I drive my family around. I have this horrifying thought that I’ll get into an accident with them in the car and get them hurt.” He was breathing hard, he felt the ice in his veins and when she held his hand he slumped in his chair. He’d never told her this fear, he pushed through it and drove cautiously but this needed to come out.

“That’s a normal response. Accidents and injuries can definitely contribute to PTSD and anxiety down the line, even if physically you’re healed.” She spoke softly and clearly and he felt lighter.

When they got home from that particular session she was quiet and for a moment he was afraid that she’d reverted back to anger. She stopped him from getting out of the car in their driveway.

“Francis- why didn’t you tell me that?” She held his arm, using the moment before relieving his parents from watching the kids to ask him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you felt that way about driving and the anxiety?” She wasn’t angry, she looked ashamed.

“Honestly? I didn’t think you wanted to hear it.” He shrugged, her brow was pinched. “I thought you were too angry and that it must have been nothing compared to what you felt with me gone, so it wasn’t really worth saying.” He sighed heavily, there was so many things he’d kept inside and he realized it wasn’t good. She didn’t say anything for a little while.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter. No matter how angry I am, I don’t want you to think you can’t tell me how you feel.” She rubbed at his arm, pulling him closer to her and his heart started racing. “I love you Francis, and we can’t keep doing this. We have to tell each other what we’re feeling in order to get over this.” She placed her hands on his face and he melted into her touch. She kissed him softly, chaste and sweet and it was like a balm for his soul.

“I love you too Spills, we’re going to be okay.” He would make sure.

---

It had been a couple of months since they’d started therapy and things had gotten much better. The affection had come back slowly, with the exception of sex - they were almost back to normal in terms of physical touch. He seemed happier, more confident and you felt more and more assured that things would be okay. Your routine had adjusted itself, he woke up early to feed Luna and make coffee before work, and you took your kids to the beach, or the park - or to either of your parents house for the day.

When he got home you all had dinner together and your nightly routine of cuddling on the couch with your children was back on schedule. Luna was also improving - she was more and more comfortable with him being away for extended periods, Mateos sleep schedule was all over the place still but overall he was a happy baby.

With all of that progress, came the sex drive.

He let you set the pace, he never pushed or asked for anything during the course of your healing and you knew it was all for you. He was ready, you felt the evidence of it in the morning when he was pressed against your back. You heard him in the bathroom at night, the soft moans and little grunts he tried to mask.

Mateo was asleep in his crib, Luna was asleep in her room and he was making his way over to the bathroom.

“Okay if I hop in with you?” You smiled at him - and he was almost shocked but quickly recovered and agreed.

He seemed unaware of what to do with himself as you undressed, his body however was crystal clear. You saw his cock hardening, his eyes greedily raking over your naked form. You’d given birth to two of his children and the insecurity you felt went right out the window. His desire for you was painfully evident.

“Can I touch you?” He held himself back as you turned on the water, making sure he was reading you correctly.

“Yes Francis, I want you to.” You pulled him into the shower with you, wrapping your arms around his neck, the water hitting his back as you guided him underneath the spray. He wasted no time, his arms wrapped around your waist and his mouth was insistent. His tongue was in your mouth and you felt the arousal so deeply it was almost a hunger pang. He wasn’t holding back, his cock was pressed up against the soft skin of your belly, almost throbbing.

He was groaning into your mouth and his hands lowered to grab at your ass. You couldn’t help but giggle nervously, he was so keyed up for you and he laughed when he pulled away.

“Someone’s happy.” It came out as a breathy laugh as his mouth found it’s way to your throat, one hand snaked up and palmed at your breast.

“Mmm, I’m so hard for you baby, I’ve missed you.” He was crowding you, pushing you so you were pressed up against the cool tiles of your shower.

“I’ve missed you too, want you so bad - I’m so wet-” His mouth was on yours before you could even finish the sentence. You felt your heartbeat in your cunt at his confidence, the old Francis that fucked you like a god was back and you were aching for him. The angle was a little awkward, usually when you had sex in the shower it was from behind but you wanted to look him in the eye.

“Francis - can we do it in bed? I want you on top of me.” He was sucking at the skin just underneath your ear when he moved back. His eyes were lust blown, his face flushed and he didn’t respond, he turned off the water and practically dragged you out. Your slick threatened to drip out with how badly you wanted him.

He laid you down on the bed, uncaring that you were both wet and dampening the sheets and he wasted no time in getting between your legs, his cock was leaking, the tip of it rubbing through your folds and you couldn’t help but whimper.

“We have to be quiet honey, don’t want to wake up the kids.” His voice was deep and you could hear his excitement, his tongue licked into your mouth with every kiss and it was almost too much. “I want to taste you, I want to fuck you with my tongue.” Another kiss, a low groan into your mouth and as much as you wanted that you needed him inside you.

“After, I need you to fuck me first.” You reached down and guided his cock so the tip was knotched at your entrance. You watched the anguished look on his face as you pulled him in with the heels of your feet on his lower back.

There you are.

He was so heavy inside you, felt so right you had to take a moment.

“God honey you feel so good.” He rested his forehead on yours, your breathing synching up as he rocked slowly inside you.

“I missed you Francis, I missed you so much, fuck me please.” You were whispering to him, kissing his face and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I got you baby, I got you.” He braced his arms around your head and snapped his hips, you could tell he couldn’t hold himself back and all you could do was hold on, with your arms, with your legs, with your cunt.

“I’m not going to last baby, need you to cum first-” Even as he spoke his thrusts got harder, faster. “-Rub your clit for me, make yourself cum on me.” He burried his face into your neck and you obliged. You were just as keyed up, and the wet glide of your fingers against the the engorged little pearl had you clenching around him almost painfully. He came a few strokes later with a groan against your skin.

He went to pull away but you held onto him.

“Wait- wait-” You held him close, your hands finding their way into his hair and he almost purred. “Stay inside for a little while. Stay here.” You kissed his forehead and he sighed heavily, letting his weight rest on your and for the first time in a long time he looked utterly relaxed.

“Of course honey, I’ll stay here as long as you let me.” He placed soft kisses to the skin he could reach, your neck, your collar. He fell asleep inside you, and you let him.

----

The next morning you were almost shy.

There was hope and happiness in the house and you couldn’t help but smile when you came downstairs. He had breakfast and coffee waiting for you, Luna was in her high chair and Mateo was in his rocker. Colourful toys dangling, little legs kicking and for the first time in a long time - you were happy. Everything felt lighter and lovely and you wanted him to know.

You wrapped yourself around him as he stood at the counter, he was buttering a bagel when you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“Good morning honey.” He dropped his bagel and turned around to wrap himself around you.

“Good morning Francis.” You got up on your tippy toes to kiss him and he smiled into it. “I was thinking we should go to the beach today - all of us.” You took the bagel from him and buttered it, he always said it tasted better when you did it.

“Sounds good to me.” He sat in front of Luna - smiling at her, she was screaming happily at the word and you knew then that it would be a good day. Everything was going to be okay.

---

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Some tags don't work no matter what I do!

[cannedsoupsucks]

I'm excited!

At First Sight

[preview]

frankie morales x f!reader

fate has a strange way of timing, ironic since you've only just been sitting there, waiting too long for someone at the bar. but by the looks of things, it's all about where you end up that matters most. a blind date gone wrong, already in the rearview, and the night, soon to lead you anywhere, with a quiet stranger named, francisco... ✨

The minimal lights on in the window say 'relax', and you do, or at least you begin to try with your hand completely enveloped by his, and the natural rhythm it adheres to in its grasp. 

Tightly held, fastened to his skin, your familiar shades of warmth bleed themselves into closeness through a cold November. 

It's the kind of intense hold that makes your knees weak during more inopportune times when you don't want it to. It's the smooth pad of his thumb brushing over yours gently round in circles that somehow makes all the sense in the world. It's that infinite embrace waiting for you on the other side of tonight's unexpected possibilities; a gentle man like him living by the thread of a single moment, an affectionate one that you can only assume will eventually fade into something intimately rough. 

And in that tender place safe inside your mind, lies just you, for now, waiting for him in anticipation around all his softened edges.

"It's not much, but I like it here."

"It's perfect."

Suddenly you felt a bit overdressed for the little diner he's just brought you to.

… ❤

coming soon

[cannedsoupsucks]

I GOT GOOSEBUMPS ON MY ARMS! This is spine tinglingly good! I can't wait to read what's next!

Summary: It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in.

You don’t let the dog outside at night anymore. Abnormal clicking filters through the aged radio perched in Frankie’s shed, and you see his frown deepen every day, dark eyes locked onto the skies more often than usual. His gun stays out of the safe.

And then they call it—some poor woman on the news sits in front of the camera, eyes watery and hands shaking. She says they’re coming. She says it’s the end, that we should brace for their arrival and pray. You’ve never seen Frankie move so fast.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: angst galore, drug references, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, future violence, guns, future blood/gore, future mentions of death/suicide

Word count: 4.4K

A/N: I’m not gonna lie, I’m excited about this one. Tag list is open to anyone who wants to join! I didn’t use my usual permanent one as it is lost on a broken laptop and this might not be everyone’s cup of tea lmao. Enjoy, angels! xo

The bed’s cold.

It’s been cold for days, weeks, despite his body hot under the blankets. The chill that lingers in the room seeps into his bones, the air lacking your familiar breath of warmth, of comfort. He can barely smell you on your pillow anymore, his arms crushing it too hard against his chest night after night, drowning what was left of you with his own fragrance.

You’ll come home this week—he’s sure of it.

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

This is the kind of vacation that I've always daydreamed about

Life is Good - One

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 12,205

Rating: M - language, mentions of military service, drinking, talk about sex, an injury 

Summary: A weeklong vacation in Virginia Beach with your best friends - what could be better? The answer - finding out that the house next door was rented by 5 guys from Florida … and that they’re more than friendly. 

Author’s note:

I didn’t even really intend to write this but here we are. This is going to be a lot different than my usual work - trying to be more lighthearted and fun. 

It does follow canon - to a point, but as you’ll very quickly see, some things have been changed in order to advance the plot. 

Some housekeeping: 

- The houses that the groups are staying in can be found on the Masterlist page; the links were messing up this post showing in the search results. 

- Typically on Sandbridge, the check-in is Saturday afternoon, check out is Saturday morning. I’ve included timestamps to help keep the week’s progress consistent. 

Sunday Morning - Sunrise. 

There was no one else awake and you were glad. 

As quietly as you could, you opened your bedroom door and padded into the kitchen area, not bothering to turn the lights on as you grabbed a K-cup and a coffee mug, setting the machine to brew while you grabbed the flavored creamer from the refrigerator. 

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

I feel so much for Frankie. He adores her, but it's like he feels she's too good to be true and doesn't want to ruin a wonderful with his past.

I hope he tells her sooner than later, and that she continues to give him as much love and understanding as she has been.

Pelican’s - Valentine’s Day 2022 request #3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader (Baby It’s Cold Outside pairing)

Word Count: 5,740

Rating: M; language, sexual content, innuendo, mentions of drug use, emotional manipulation

This combines two requests: @bport76​ wanted Baby It’s Cold Outside Frankie and Reader and had no real directional request, and an Anon ask wanted BiCO Frankie and Reader having a dinner date. It’s longer than the others - but consider it 2 pieces in one and enjoy. 

I’ve missed these two. And I can’t wait for the day that I can write something that’s pure fluff for them - but unfortunately, their first Valentine’s Day isn’t it. It’s still got some fluff and a whole lot of lightheartnedness, but Frankie is Frankie (and we love him for it.) *all places in this story are real and can be googled.

Also, please picture Frankie in the below outfit during dinner. (you’re welcome)

(image from pedro-pascal.com)

“Pack for a couple days by the beach. I’ll see you in two hours.” 

His words echoed in your head as you stood in front of your closet, eyes scanning your clothes. He’d said nothing more - and nothing less, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping through the doors of the break room at the store and heading for his truck, leaving you to finish the final 45 minutes of your shift. 

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

This checks all my boxes for smutty goodness! There was a dash of angst with their issues with insecurity, a pinch of caring with her helping him through the pops from the logs and each of them making sure the other is consenting and comfortable, a nice dose of sweet fluff, and a heaping helping of delicious smut. I also loved the ending (which I won't elaborate on so I don't spoil it for others). 💙

Baby It’s Cold Outside Part 2: Listen to the Fireplace Roar

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female reader

Word Count: 14,761 (it’s long and like 2/3 of it is smut.)

Rating: NSFW. I repeat: N S F W.  Sex. Emotions. Frankie Morales and his sweatpants (and without them) is a menace. And we love him for it. But OHHH boy.

A continuation of this story which was written for @missminkylove and @bport76 as a part of my Christmas in July celebration. 

First full-on Frankie smut. First time writing anything like this. I’m gonna put this up and disappear for a couple hours because I am NERVOUS. I appreciate the feedback on part one of this story. I appreciate everyone encouraging me to write more for this pair. Thank you in advance for reading … and if you have anything to say, don’t hold back. 

*No Spotify playlist for this pair yet … but it’s in the works… because I’m definitely not done with them. 

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

I loved watching Frankie's walls come crumbling down as he told her things about his past and how she was accepting and comforting to him. A sweet Christmas happy ending. I feel all warm and fuzzy ❤

Baby It’s Cold Outside Part 3: There Will Be Plenty Implied

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female reader

Word Count: 12,056

Rating: M? We’ll say M because there’s mentions of sex, lots of language, talk of a character death (but honestly it’s to be expected at this point), mentions of drug use, Frankie bening dangerously attentive.

A continuation of this story which was written for @missminkylove and @bport76 as a part of my Christmas in July celebration. Takes place immediately after part 2

I tried to stop writing this pairing and I literally cannot do so to save my life, so enjoy another 12,000 words. Frankie’s got an edge to him, but there’s just something in me that wants to write some happiness and … dare I say it … fluffy situations for this man? Who am I? 

EDIT BECAUSE I AM AN ASSHOLE: Credit to @the-blind-assassin-12 who (after a million hours of talking about Francisco Morales) came up with the line about the laundry scent. That’s all on her and her brilliant mind, not me.

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

My favorite trio are back and I love them to death! LOVE THEM!

Caught On - Part 5

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

Word Count: 7,890

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. (language, sexual acts, sexual contact with two separate men)

Summary: The three of you spend time together for the first time since you and Pope kissed. It’s a typical Saturday night for all of you … right? Wrong. 

Author’s note:

The moment you’ve all been waiting for … sort of. This is where things really pick up for these characters, and it’s been a challenge trying to keep things in character… hope you all enjoy. 

Catch up here: Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

They pulled into the driveway a little over a half hour later, both men laughing as they carried things into the house. Pope had two six packs of beer - one in each hand - and Frankie was carrying two giant bags of chips and a plastic bag that you figured had some sort of cold dip in it. 

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

I love this series and trio so much! I must confess that I'm a bit nervous that there might be some seriously angsty moments ahead. Good thing I like a bit of angst!

Caught On - Part 2

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia (we’re getting closer!)

Word Count: 8221

Rating: M. (Language, allusions to sex, feelings for multiple people but there’s no acting on it in this chapter, drinking, mentions of canon TF situations

Summary: The more you think about it, the more you realize that Frankie’s got a point. You care about both men - and they care about you … could there be an option that keeps everyone happy … even if it’s a little unorthodox? … and what’s Pope’s take on everything? 

Author’s note:

HELLO FRIENDS. From the response to the first chapter, I can truly say that I’m THRILLED that so many of you were on board for this one. We’re getting closer to the real “fun” parts of this story … so buckle in and get ready. Again; there will be eventual smut in this, but it’s not going to be a traditional throuple/poly rrelationship. Thank you ALL for your support and encouragement.

Keep reading

[cannedsoupsucks]

Very interested! Please add me to the tag list.

Coming soon…

Still of the Night—a Frankie Morales x f!reader fic, inspired by Signs (2002)

Summary:

It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in.

You don’t let the dog outside at night anymore. Abnormal clicking filters through the aged radio perched in Frankie’s shed, and you see his frown deepen every day, dark eyes locked onto the skies more often than usual. His gun stays out of the safe.

And then they call it—some poor woman on the news sits in front of the camera, eyes watery and hands shaking. She says they’re coming. She says it’s the end, that we should brace for their arrival and pray. You’ve never seen Frankie move so fast.

Warnings: angst galore, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, violence, guns, blood/gore, mentions of death/suicide.

Tag list is available, if you’re interested!

GIFs not mine—found on google.

[cannedsoupsucks]

My heart is full and happy ❤

Oblivius Chapter 10

We've come to the end my friends.

This is the last chapter for Francis & Spills and hopefully you'll enjoy it. I have had such a great time writing this story and have received so many lovely messages & asks about my two dumb idiot babies.

Although this is the end of the main story - you can always send in an ask about them because I will literally jump back in at the drop of a hat. (and who knows, might randomly drop a chapter / dabble if I get into my feelings)

Thanks for sticking with me!

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Fluff & general cuteness, Smut 18+ - dirty talk, p in v sex (NO MINORS + WRAP IT UP) language *time jump at the end - which has a little surprise* (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

--------

Age: 29

He knew he shouldn’t have been nervous, but he couldn’t help it.

He was working on his feelings for her, on coming to terms with his hurt and his anger. Once the initial burn of it cooled he could admit to himself that they’d both been utterly stupid. Both were to blame for how things shook out.

He knew this was the right course of action. He knew from the way he felt right at this moment, getting ready to pick Spills up for their first official date. He’d never once in the whole time he’d been with Claudia felt like this.

He had decided to keep it simple. Dinner and a movie. Can’t fuck that up and after everything that had transpired, he needed simple. It had been a couple of weeks since their conversation and things were a little awkward at first - trying to navigate this new dynamic but their conversations had gotten more comfortable. Both of them agreed to make the first date official.

He couldn’t help but smile as he made his way over to her place, even though his stomach was in knots. Even though a small part of him was terrified to fuck this up. Nothing could be sadder for him than for this not to work and have them drift apart but when he saw her rushing over to his truck all the doubts and worries melted away.

Of course this’ll work. I love you.

“Ready?” He asked and the smile was bright on her face when she climbed in and buckled her seat belt.

“Of course. Where are you taking me?” She ran her fingers through his hair and he could have purred, the touch felt so right.

“To our place.” He pulled out and made his way over to Marcellos.

--

The food was just as good as you remembered. The two of you found your rhythm as you ordered your meals and when they came he wasted no time in tasting your food and offering his plate to you. You sighed at how your heart swelled. This was so easy - so natural and you kicked yourself mentally over and over for not opening your mouth earlier.

You’d been afraid that things would be awkward after your talk and at first it was. The conversations and texts were weird, impersonal and almost forced but after a little while it was easy to fall back into your friendship.

It was so easy because you were friends. You already had the solid foundations for this to work and you were going to put everything you had into it.

You laughed, and you ate, and you enjoyed each other's company - forgetting the time and when he ordered the tiramisu and two forks you smiled big.

“I already bought the movie tickets, so we should leave soon or we’ll miss the previews.” You told him as the waiter cleared the table.

“You did?” He was surprised. “What movie are we watching then?” He asked as he paid for dinner.

“I picked a horror movie, looked terrifying.” you pulled out the tickets and he laughed. Kissing your hand as he walked you out of the restaurant.

--

He paid for dinner, so you bought the movie and popcorn. You made it with enough time to get good seats in the middle of the theatre, for the best vantage point according to him. In reality you didn’t actually care where you sat.

He lifted the divider as soon as the two of you sat, making sure you could tuck yourself into his side at the scary bits and you wasted no time getting comfortable. His arm was around you reassuringly as the trailers started, the two of you whispering a bit too loudly, deciding what was worth your time and what wasn’t.

You tucked your face into his neck at the jump scares, asking in whispers if it was okay to look. You could feel the rumble of his chest when he laughed, not unkindly. Felt him kissing your forehead softly when it was okay to look.

Despite having already kissed before, despite having had sex once before - this felt so intimate. You looked up at him to find him already smiling at you, your heart racing at the closeness. At the tenderness on his face.

You kissed him. Petal soft and chaste at first but he deepened it, his big warm hand coming up to rest softly on your cheek. His tongue tasted like popcorn and sugar and you couldn’t help but smile into it at first. The movie forgotten, the fear morphing into warmth and desire for him. As far as you were concerned - this was your first real kiss, and it took your breath away.

The rest of the movie was spent with your head on his shoulder. His hand steadily rubbing your arm and his nose buried in your hair and you couldn’t remember ever having a better first date.

---

You left the theatre quietly, the walk back to the truck was a leisurely stroll. Both of you smiling to yourselves as you held hands, your other hand holding onto his arm - you couldn’t get close enough.

He walked you to the passenger side, pressing you up against it to kiss you again quickly. You could see that he was taking every opportunity to press his lips to yours and you let him. Both of you quiet, breathless and giddy. You didn’t need words. Not for this.

After placing a couple more onto your neck and cheeks he remembered himself, and opened the door for you, running around the truck to get in. His hand found its way into yours on your lap as he drove you home.

He walked you to your door and asking him to come in was on the tip of your tongue but he forestalled. Speaking before you could ask.

“I’m coming in to check every corner so you aren’t scared.” He followed you in, closing the door behind him as he spoke. “But I’m not staying over, as much as I want to. I want to take this slow.” He was looking at you and you could have cried, not from disappointment, but from regret. Regret at having wasted so much time - regret that it took so goddamn long for you to get the courage to tell him how you felt and he must have seen the emotion on your face because he was holding onto your face in a flash. Cradling your jaw softly.

“What’s wrong Spills? Did I go too fast?” His brow was furrowed and despite your happiness the regrets swallowed you whole, you couldn’t stop the first few tears from falling.

“No no! I’m sorry. This was perfect and I just- I feel bad that we waited so long and I wasted so much time and we should have done this so fucking long ago.” You couldn’t stop the sob from clawing it’s way up your throat as he held you and he sighed loudly. Pulling you into the crook of his neck within the soft glow of your home.

“No - stop honey. Stop crying please - this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you for everything. We’ve both been absolute idiots and maybe if we’d talked about this like grown-ups years ago all this bullshit could have been avoided, please stop crying.” He kissed your forehead as you clung to him. The smell of his clothes, the feel of him against your skin - his voice in your ear. It was all home and the longer he held you the better you felt.

“Listen, I was angry and hurt but the more I think about it the more I realize that we’re both to blame but it’s okay because we’re starting again right?” He pulled away to tilt your face up to look at him.

“We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be and this is going to work. It’s going to work because as far as I’m concerned you’re it. You’re the only person for me and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Do you understand? Forget everything and focus on this.” He was looking at you so intensely it was hard not to cry all over again. “Tell me you understand honey.” He kissed your cheeks, one after the other.

“Yes, I understand. I feel the same way about you Francis.” You smiled a watery smile up at him and he returned it.

“Good, now I’m going to check before I leave- kiss you goodnight and then we’re going to go out again.” And he did.

—

“Good morning!” You climbed into the truck after putting your beach bag and your cooler in the back. His face smiling at you brightly as he leaned over to you, lips pursed. You kissed him and he handed you your hazelnut coffee.

“Good morning honey.” His good mood was shining through as he pulled away from your home and drove towards the beach, just the two of you. “Did you bring me breakfast?” He kept looking over to see if you had anything for him, which of course you did.

“Of course - open up.” You put the buttery bagel half in his mouth and he ate it with gusto.

---

The day was gorgeous, absolutely perfect for the beach and he set about getting the blankets and the umbrella ready for the two of you. You watched him, savouring the sight of his deft hands making quick work of everything.

“You’re staring at me Spills.” He said it with a smile on his lips and you didn’t look away.

“Yes I am.” You couldn’t help but match his tone - he turned to you then and leaned in to kiss you. He kissed you at every turn and you cherished it, you loved the way he showed his affection for you. He was a physical creature and he luxuriated in being close to you.

“Good.” He smiled as he handed you the sunscreen and once you'd finished, he made himself comfortable against you. He chose to sit with his back pressed up against your chest, between your legs - despite having laid out his own towel.

--

You were floating.

The water was enveloping you, lapping softly at your skin as you let it carry you. The sun was shining and you had your eyes closed to shield you from it. You had gone into the water first while Frances read but now he was there too, always an arms length away but it wasn’t close enough and you both fell back into your usual rhythm of splashing and teasing until you were wrapped around each other.

You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself up against him. Even in the cool water, his skin was warm and you felt as he wrapped your legs around his middle. His hands started at your waist, but they quickly moved down and held onto your ass. You laughed.

“What are you doing Francis?” You asked it with a smile, these days it felt like everything you did was with a smile.

“I’m holding onto you Spills.” He was nuzzling his nose into your neck, placing little kisses around your collar bones and up the column of your neck to your ear. You hadn’t had sex since the night before his wedding, the two of you agreeing to take it slow but his hunger for you was becoming more and more evident as the weeks rolled by. His hands roaming a little more each time you were together.

“Onto my ass?” You looked into his face, cherishing it.

“That’s right.” He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, wanting to be closer, always closer. “Do you not want me to?” He smiled lazily - biting at your ear playfully.

“I never said that.” You breathed out the words, he was affecting you and you had to remember that you were in public. You fell into a comfortable silence. The two of you happy to float in the water as well as your happiness alike.

“Francis?” You were staring out into the water as you spoke, your head resting over his shoulder.

“Hmm?” He was resting his head on yours, eyes on the shore.

“Promise me we’ll live near the ocean one day.” You rubbed his back, tracing lines into his skin with pruny fingers.

“I promise, one day we’ll have a little house by the ocean. You’ll be able to hear it when the windows are open.”

The two of you floated out there for a long time, peaceful and quiet and in love.

—-

Your hand found its way into his curls on the way home, the salt water always defined them and it was too inviting to ignore. He never minded.

His hand found its way onto your lap and the two of you were connected the whole way.

“Come in. Park the rustbucket and stay over.” You didn’t want him to leave, not yet. You were ready for the next step in your relationship.

“Are you sure?” He asked even though he was parking the truck.

“Yes, we can order in.” You smiled a smile that had nothing to do with food.

“You’re gonna kill me Spills.” He was hurriedly unbuckling his seat belt, he wanted this just as much as you did and you couldn’t get inside fast enough. When you were finally inside he almost tackled you. Crashing into you with a bruising force, mouth insistent and unforgiving in its need for you.

“I want it in my bed.” You were pulling his shirt off as you pushed him towards your room and he growled.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.” He was pulling off your shirt, undoing the top piece of your bathing suit as you finally got him into your room.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum like you did before, make me feel good.” You pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. He wasted no time and within a few seconds your nipple was in his mouth. Your grip on his curls was tight as you held him close to your chest. His tongue a slow swirl around the pebbled peak of your breast. First one, then the other. He was ruthless in his teasing, sucking roughly and then biting softly.

“You want my cock baby?” He was kissing your chest as he held onto your ass, your clothed core pressed up against the stiffening pillar of his sex. The arousal was a burning coal in the pit of your stomach and every time he pulled you closer it burned hotter. Your cunt ached for him, drooling out your passion into your underwear, the threads of you unspooling for him at your entrance.

“Yes, give it to me - please.” You bit at his neck, tasting the salt of the ocean on his skin and he moaned. You used the momentary distraction to pull off him and finish undressing. You helped him pull off his swim trunks and you pulled him into your shower, both of you were still covered in sand and you wanted to wash the day off him.

His body curled around you as you turned the shower on. His cock was hard and pressed up against the cleft in your ass. His hands were around your waist, holding onto your belly; your breasts. Anything and everything he could get his hands on and you both laughed as you got into the shower. You dragged him under the hot spray, helping him wash the salt and sand from his skin and his hair and he did the same for you.

Once you were clean he pressed you up against the wall, the cool tile against your nipples made you hiss and he pulled your waist toward him, one hand on your back to tilt your pelvis enough for him to slide in.

“Can I fuck you like this baby?” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your neck. You wiggled your hips against him in response.

“Yes Francis, give it to me just like this - please.” He groaned as he rubbed his cock through your folds, even under the spray he could feel how wet you were and he slid in to the hilt. His pelvis flush with the plump skin of your ass. “Fuck, I feel so full - you’re so big.” You smiled at the groan he let out at your words.

“You’re so tight, feels so fucking good.” He snapped his hips, fucking into you hard and fast. Both of you so keyed up that this wouldn’t last and you knew it. “That’s it baby, take it. Just - like- that.” He held onto your shoulder for leverage and you reached down with one hand to rub at your clit.

“Yes, make yourself cum, soak my cock.” He pulled you up holding onto your breast as he split you open on his dick.

“I’m gonna cum…” Your orgasm crashed into you, making you clench around him while he sped up, chasing his own high and you felt it when he groaned into your ear. Felt him emptying himself into you.

—-

You were both naked, laying in your bed in the fading light of the sun. His head was resting on your chest as you played with his hair.

“I'm starving, have you seen my phone? We should order a pizza.” He got up and looked around and for a moment you couldn’t believe that your Francis was walking around your place naked. Even though he’d fucked you in the shower, even though he’d fucked you in your bed; made you cum with his fingers and his mouth and his cock. Your pleasure seemingly more important than his.

“I think you dropped it onto the counter when we came in.”

He came back with it in his hand and ordered your usual order before dropping it onto your nightstand.

“We have forty minutes until it gets here.” He smiled darkly as he crawled up between your legs and despite everything you’d done, you flushed, wrapping your arms and legs around him lazily.

“Better make them count.” You kissed him, and he did.

When the pizza finally came you needed another shower, which you took together. He stayed the night, and never went home again.

——

Age: 30

“Francis, wake up honey, happy birthday!” You were kissing his face, pulling him softly out of sleep. He groaned and smiled as he buried his face into your hair. His hand travelled down to grab at your ass. Even half asleep he pawed at you, making you laugh.

“Mmmph, sleep.” He mumbled onto your skin. Soft and pliant on the bed you shared.

“Francis, come on - get up so we can celebrate.” You pulled him away slightly so you could pepper his face with kisses, something he loved. “Come on baby, get up, I have a few surprises for you.” You ran your fingers through his hair. It was getting longer and you loved it like this.

“Are you naked?” He didn’t open his eyes but you felt his wits sharpening.

“No, that's later, I have other surprises for you, three of them. Hmm?” You waited a few minutes and he opened his eyes.

“Alright alright, I’m up. What’s the plan?” He yawned and stretched.

“The plan is they’re coming to get you in about half an hour so get dressed.” You got up out of bed pulling him up with you.

“Who?” He was lost.

“Your surprises.” He frowned and then it dawned on him.

“Pope? Benny and Will?” His eyebrows shot up in shock.

“Yes! They’re on their way so come on, up up let’s get you ready, they’re taking you out and then we’re going to have a big dinner.” He was moving on his own now and you could see how happy he was.

“Did you set this up?” He was brushing his teeth and you nodded.

“Yes I spoke to Pope a few weeks ago, thought it would make you happy to have them here for your birthday. They’re going to take you out for the morning and then we can meet up at your parents place for a big dinner.” You smiled at him.

“You’re not coming?” He frowned despite his joy at seeing his closest friends in a few minutes.

“No, you have your time with them and I’ll see you in a few hours.” He pulled you close.

“I love you Spills.” He kissed you, deep and insistent, all of his feelings for you behind it and you had to pull away as his phone went off.

“I love you too Francis, now get your ass in gear. See you later, have fun!” You pushed him out, patting him on the butt to get him moving.

———

Age: 33

“I am completely in love with it Francis, look at the windows!” You were walking through the little house like a kid in a candy store. Trying to take it all in.

“It’s really nice, floors are good.” He was looking at the wood, taking stock of the layout and the sturdiness of the staircase leading upstairs.

“Do you think we could afford it?” You were pulling him towards the kitchen, to the big window over the sink where you could just see the water. The yard was a little on the smaller side but it was big enough to put a little patio set and a grill, big enough for the three of you.

“Do you want it?” He stood behind you, his arms around your waist as you both stared out through the window.

“Yes, I think we’ll be really happy here. Do we have enough?” You turned to press a kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

“Yes, we have enough saved and with you going back to work we’ll be fine.” You felt the little hands then, grabbing at both of you and he bent down to pick up your daughter. She was tired and rested her head on his shoulder. “I think she likes it.” He ran his fingers through her soft curls as he kissed her forehead. You couldn't help but rub her little back as she melted into his shoulder.

“Open the window.” He gestured towards the latch and when you did you heard the soft sounds of the ocean drifting in. He was smiling at you, holding onto the little life you’d both created.

“Welcome home Spills."

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

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