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romana-after-dark · 4 months

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Room's on Fire: Pilot

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

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Summery: The Delta is a commune in the middle of nowhere established by Santiago's mother. Since Divine Mother's passing in a rebellion a decade ago, Santiago, known as The Pope, and his half-God brethren Francisco, Benjamin and William have ran the commune. Now it is time for them to take a collective bride to breed, to bring the savior into the world.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

This is not meant to be a statement about religion, Christianity, or Catholicism, this is simply my take on a cult. I am a religious person. I understand that some of this may be very offensive to religious people so if you don't like thing like AHS Asylum or Black Mass, maybe consider not reading.

"Come on home, girl, he said with a smile You don't have to love me yet, let's get high awhile But try to understand, try to understand Try, try, try to understand That I'm a magic man." ~Magic Man, Heart.

"God dammit Benjamin, what the hell is wrong with you!”

Will smacked Ben upside the head as Frankie chided him.

Ben tried to defend himself. “Hey! You guys act like you don’t sleep with ‘em too, why are you blaming me?”

“You’re fucking a new woman every goddamn week, you have no fucking class, we’re not even supposed to be sleeping with these women,-”

Santiago’s voice, strong and comanding, broke through the bickering. “Gentlemen, please, this is not becoming behavior for Gods.”

With their leader’s command, the other three settled down, Frankie’s eyes casting away. “Sorry, Pope.”

Pushing himself off from the wall he had been leaning against, Santiago walked toward the group. “That can’t be all the options. There’s no way Benny’s made his way through every of age virgin in our compound, we have over 5 thousand people here.”

The men thought through the women they knew, the various families at the massive compound who could accomplish their task. She couldn’t just be a virgin, that was the thing.

They needed their Madonna.

Before her death, Santiago’s mother informed their group that the prophecy would not be fulfilled through Santiago, that he was not the promised savior. Instead, he was destined to lead after her passing and that Santiago, Francisco, William and Benjamin were all demi-Gods. This was a step up for the Millers and Francisco, who had spend their youths in the privileged position of foster brothers to Santiago and living under The Divine Mother’s roof and direct guidance. To Santiago, however, this was a humiliating demotion.

His childhood was never one of whimsy, growing up told that he was a God, that he was the second coming, that he was the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned… All that changed in his pre-teens. Suddenly, his mother was less pleased with him. His divinity was constantly dangled above his head. When his 20’s came and he failed to be what his mother wanted, she stripped him of his full God-hood.

So why, pray tell, were him and his fellow leaders and brethren searching for a virgin? Since Santiago had failed, they needed to father a new child. A new savior. Divine Mother’s instructions were clear; they were all to wed and breed a virgin from their compound. She was to live in their home as their wife for them to use not only whenever they wanted, but whenever they could. A sacred duty to be fruitful and multiple. It didn’t matter whose child grew in her, as long as there was a child. The world would be saved, and Santiago would earn his mothers favor from the heavens.

So, she couldn’t just be anyone. She needed to be a virgin, pure and holy. She needed to be beautiful, strong, faithful to their ways, faithful to the Divine Mother, faithful to the Pope, William, Benjamin, and Francisco.

“What about Marcus’s kid?’ Will asked, breaking their silence, causing everyone to turn to him.

Frank frowned. “You think the daughter of a traitor is the best option for the Madonna?” The sarcasm was clear. He didn’t like this plan as it was. He didn’t want strangers in their home, breaching security, putting his brothers at risk.

“That might actually be the solution to the problem.” He waited until Pope gestured for him to go on, not immediately shutting it down.

“The rebellion was when she was 12, the interrogations found she had no knowledge of her father’s plans. Ever since, she has been isolated. Lydia says she has caused no problems in the women’s home, been obedient but has no friends, no connections.”

“So you think she’s intact?”

“Santi, I doubt she’d had her first kiss.”

Since the rebellion 10 years ago, Will has set up measures to identify problems before they become something like that, and that meant keeping tabs on people. Single women lived in a few group homes throughout the compound. Each home had prefects that reported to house mothers, and house mothers that reported to Will. Anyone that was of any concern, Will checked in on, that included daughters of rebels.

“And she danced at the fire?” Pope asked, arms still crossed but listening.

Will nodded. “She did. No signs of disloyalty.”

Muttering, Frankie asked Ben if he’d slept with her in recent years.

He shook his head. “Nope. Forgot she existed.”

Frankie watched as Pope thought things through, his mouth shifting. Frankie asked, “How are the other viable women going to take it if the daughter of a traitor is chosen above them?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ben said, defensive of Pope. His loyalty to Santiago went above everything. “If she’s the right person, she’s chosen divinely.”

Santiago held up a hand, stopping another argument. “A redemption. She has the option to purify herself from the sins of her father through the pain of childbirth.”

“Biblical precedent…” Will murmured in agreement.

“And if she fails to produce a child, then we can say we were deceived-”

“Like Eve deceived Adam. Damn, Pope, I think it’s a winner.”

Santiago smiled at his fellow leader, clasping his hands together. “Alright, let’s go visit her, make sure she’s suitable.”

You were dead. It was over. Lydia had cleared all the other women out of the dormitory room and told you that the Pope and the other divine leaders would be coming to speak privately to you and you assumed that you had slipped up somehow and it was the end for you. You didn’t know what you possibly could have done. You never ever spoke badly about anyone, none the less your beloved leaders! You adored them all, worshipped them as they deserved, as you had Divine Mother…

Had they decided you were too much of a liability after what your father had done? How was that possible, it had been a decade… why now…

You gasp. Fransisco… he was clairvoyant… had he seen into your dream? Had he seen what you saw oh-so often, the dreams that forced you awake crying?

You prepared yourself to grovel, to beg for mercy, to plead that these dreams of fire were not what you wanted, that they tormented you. Would you forever be labeled a traitor for what your father had done? Hadn’t you proved your loyalty to The Delta?

The door opened and you dropped to your knees, silent until spoken too. You can hear Benjamin whisper a damn. The floor creaks in front of where you knelt, arms prostrated out and for a moment, everything stood still. Warm hands were on your chin, guiding you up to see him.

He was so much more stunning up close. You’d heard tales from other girls of the men, of the way they bedded them, how it was glorious, the most holy form of worship to allow them inside you… You had taken note that you had not been allowed that honor, you had accepted it as the punishment for the sins of your birth, you never thought you’d be worthy of close contact, but right now… Pope was touching your face, your chin tucked between his thumb and forefinger; his eyes were so close to yours, his plump lips keep a soft smile. “Do not be afraid, darling girl. If we are correct, you may outshine us all.”

“But it is, of course, your choice.”

Your choice…

This phrase was preceded by the reminder that if you said no, there would be no savior.

There was no choice.

“I am a servant to my lords.”

Santiago smiled at that. “Excellent. Now, let’s begin the inspection.”

The what?

“Oh… is it… I swear I am a virgin, I’ve never been touched-”

“I know.” Francisco said. Oh, right. Clairvoyant. “We need to make sure you’re… healthy.”

“Oh. Yes, of course then.”

Francisco undressed you, his calm demeanor and soothing touch eased you as he slowly stripped you of your clothing. He pulled the loose shirt over your body as you raised your hands, the pail bra underneath had a lot of coverage (everything was meant to be practical) but you still felt exposed.

“Just down to her underwear, Francisco.” Will instructed as he watched. Will was a healer, that was his gift.

Francisco pulled down your pants slowly, and you feel eyes scaling you.

“Strip her down fully, Frank.” Ben tells Francisco, and you jolt when you feel his hands on the bare skin on your hips.

Francisco sighs, but Will puts his foot down. “She doesn’t need to be naked, this is invasive enough as it is”

Ben gave a short laugh. “More invasive than fucking her.”

“BEN!” All three of them shouted, discomfort and fears coursing through your body.

“Pope, she’s shaking.” Francisco asserts with his hands on your shoulders and you watch Pope give Ben a look.

“You behave, your brother knows what he’s doing.” He turns to Will, jerking his head at you. “Handle it.”

Will approaches you, his hands on your face. He holds you different than Pope, more firm, more all-encompassing. Will’s hands were larger, and he placed them at the side of your head, like he was holding you together. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s like a medical examination, okay?”

You nod within his grasp. “Okay.”

He smiled at you. “Good girl. I’m going to touch you, just stand there and take it. Trust me.”

You did. You’d follow him anywhere if he spoke like that. His hands move down your neck, slowly over your shoulders and down your arms, sending a chill through your body. He squeezed your hands. “Doing so good princess. Gonna check your backside now, can you straighten up for me?” You square your shoulders as he walks around, towering over you. You lock eyes with Ben; he looks hungry, like he’s ready to pounce but smiling at you with his boyish charm you can’t help wonder what that pounce would feel like. Ben had slept with almost every girl in your dormitory, and you’d been privy to all kinds of colorful descriptions as you overheard girls talking. Not to you. Never to you.

Will rubbed his hands together and breathed on them to aid the warmth before placing his fingertips at the top-most part of your back. Slowly, he dragged 8 fingers down, applying pressure, sending a tingling down your spine as his fingers traced it. “Excellent posture, just need to check a few things.” His hands went back up, fingers bracing at your sides as his thumbs searched certain spots, rubbing over aching parts of you with pressure, but not pain.

“Got a few knots.” Will comment’s, and you turn slight back towards him, suddenly scared.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no. Nothing to worry about. Just means you’re stressed. It hurt there sometimes?”

He continued massaging you, your next words coming out with a moan. “Yeah.”

“I know it does, sweet girl. Don’t you worry, I’ll help you take care of that. You will be my wife, after all.”

The thought brings a small smile to your face. The smile falters when his hands wrap around your front, William’s body pressed up against your back. His hands are pressing into your stomach, making their way up until he cups your breast, a small groan escaping his mouth that had somehow found its way into your hair.

“She likes that.” You here Ben say, drawing your attention, his grin made you swell with pride. You’d spoken with him before; Benjamin knew all the women. Still, he never chose you to bed and you had thought you weren’t appealing but now, now you see it. Now, as Ben began to touch himself over his pants as he watched his brother examine your body, you realize you were meant for a higher purpose. You were being saved, protected, put on a pedestal for this moment, to be the mother of their child, to be their Madonna.

Will continued him ministrations, soft grunts as he ground his hips into your ass. You can se his eyes are locked in with Pope. Pope, is watching the scene with hooded eyes and parted lips. With a soft but powerful moan, Will stilled behind you, panting a soft kiss on your neck before his fingertips trails your panty line. “Now, for the vaginal exam.”

All the pleasure you felt stops, your body freezing up again. “B-but, you said I wouldn’t-”

William turned you around to face him. “I have to check out your privates, gotta make sure you’re safe. It’s just me, it’s just external, don’t worry. We’ll face away.” He knelt down.

You were acutely aware your ass was still out for the other men when you heard Ben groan when your underwear is pulled down, the distinct sound of him summoning Francisco, who had been quiet so far, and the unzipping of pants.

“Goddamn…” He says, notching your legs so they spread and lifting one foot so it is resting on his bent knee. He touched your sensitive skin. “Pope, you gotta see this… the girls wet.”

“But-” I wanted to protest that he had said it would only be him, but there was no point. Soon, you’d be married, and they be able to have you as much as they wanted.

“Holy shit, she’s dripping…” Pope marvels as the slick running down your thighs.

Will continues prodding at you, fingers running through your glistening folds. In the background was a sound you couldn’t quiet pinpoint, and something that sounded like kissing, but who would be kissing? There was only Ben and Francisco there. Will dips his finger slightly inside your hole, making you gasp.

“Careful.” Pope warned. “She needs to stay intact.”

“I know.” Will groans. “But she’s so fucking tight, Pope.”

A muffled but strong groan behind you, and Pope looks like he’s about to fall apart when he pulls away.

“William, Franisco, Ben. Go to Lydia, tell her the wedding will be at her next ovulation.”

The men reluctantly made their exit leaving Pope alone in the room with you. He pulled up your underwear and pants before helping you back into your shirt. “You are perfect.” He grabbed your face again, pinching your chin and guiding you to look up at him. “Pack only personal items. You’ll have new clothing, everything will be taken care of. From now on, as long as you are what we need you to be, whatever you need, you’ll have.”

He leans in and you open your mouth to him, beautifully alluring, gifting him your first kiss and the spark was ignited. He was everything now.

“My Madonna.”

WE'RE LIVE! So excited to do this, I was a little too excited, I didn't wait until january like i said lol. After this I'm gonna try and finish Blessed be the Fruit and Awakening before going forward which shouldnt be long

PLEEAASEEEE LMK YOU'RE THOTS AND THEORIES!!!!

Special thanks to my BELOVED @hon3yboy for encouraging me so fucking hard with this series!!! she is so wonderful and has written great work including WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR!!!!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

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TAGLIST:

if I missed you LMK!!!!

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romanarose · 6 months

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Cw coke use in a fanfiction

Planning a dark Frankie and asked my friend for help 😅

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier dark Frankie #dark Francisco morales #dark!frankie morales #triple frontier #dark triple frontier #frankie morales x reader

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃

Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.

Enjoy! 🖤🎃

MASTERLIST

The lounge is dimly lit.

Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions.

The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.

The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze.

Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie.

It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens.

But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.

You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.

As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist.

A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.

Run bitch!

You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you.

The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away.

The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.

"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.

Oh, the irony.

A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out.

You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-

"BOO!"

A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.

The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.

Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.

"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.

Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.

"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath.

You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask.

It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.

"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.

"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.

"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him.

"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”

"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.

You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this.

"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water.

He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.

"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass.

You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.

"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him.

"Revenge." You titter.

“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting.

"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit.

"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone.

"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.

"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.

"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early."

"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again.

You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s.

The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out.

"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.

You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.

You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff.

"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt.

"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.

You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me."

Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you.

An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper.

The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.

A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM.

You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.

The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.

What the hell?

You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.

“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.

But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch.

You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.

You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge.

Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.

“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act.

Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles.

“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.

The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled.

Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.

You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices.

Of all the nights to play fucking pranks.

Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars.

Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.

The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers.

As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too.

It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep.

A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly.

It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty.

You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead.

You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again.

At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs.

“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up.

You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.

You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up.

“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait.

There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards.

Nope!

Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.

You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.

“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!

The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house.

“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door.

It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs.

“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.

You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.

Yeah. Come on, you fucker.

With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.

You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.

Fuck!

You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling.

“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.

"Frankie, answer me."

You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.

The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction.

“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.

The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor.

You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams.

You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide.

You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.

His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes.

The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even.

But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap.

He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly.

In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache.

“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him.

They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table.

Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.

You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly.

"Get off of meeee!"

The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.

The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.

Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.

You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh.

"Help! Hel-pffh!"

The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups.

"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night."

The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.

You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.

Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed.

The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.

“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts.

You’re frozen, paralysed.

The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.

You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears.

Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt.

The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you.

Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.

You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.

But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door.

Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind.

Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes.

Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.

You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are.

He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second.

You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.

You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles.

“Please!” You cry out louder.

His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around.

Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.

The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.

The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly.

You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.

He’s had enough now.

He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack.

Oh fuck.

“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.

You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges.

“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder.

You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots.

“Joel?" You gasp.

“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo.

“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness.

Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.

“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat.

Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.

"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.

"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core.

You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin.

Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape.

You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch.

Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.

You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"

Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.

He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.

"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.

His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.

But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.

“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts.

Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.

It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.

Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.

The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs.

He's right. You do want this.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt.

You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs.

You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.

He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.

You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”

"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.

He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it.

Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks.

“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you.

You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.

Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"

You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you.

"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"

Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers.

"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.”

A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.

He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.

Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold.

You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood.

You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.

You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen.

He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.

Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it.

"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin.

"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you.

He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.

Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.

He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak.

“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove.

"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed.

"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.

You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.

"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"

You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.

Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh.

Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt."

"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.

Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots.

"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly.

"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.

"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice.

"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.

Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.

It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you.

And it feels oh so fucking good.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.

You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup.

Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"

"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half.

You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut."

"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve.

Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.

And you kinda don’t want it to.

“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh.

He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it.

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off.

But you don’t want to.

You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again.

“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts.

“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"

But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.

You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained.

"Daaaaaave!" You wail.

“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth.

You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.

You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined.

You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.

“Fuck!” He yells out.

When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.

You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped.

He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.

You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe.

You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way.

“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge.

Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.

He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back.

You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat.

“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says.

He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense.

“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point.

You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists.

Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters.

He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.

An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s.

But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts.

“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes.

You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.

“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.”

"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.

"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.

His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.

"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss.

"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.

You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says.

Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.

"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out."

“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.

You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.

"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease."

Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.

A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host.

But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.

Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal.

“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt.

Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns.

"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp.

Fuck!

"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself.

You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.

"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair."

You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight.

“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.

Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.

It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.

"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.

"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours.

"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.

"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head.

"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”

"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie."

“Fuck her,” Dave encourages.

Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go."

"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.

Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back.

He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in.

Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust.

Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you.

Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”

“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"

Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.

He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt.

Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place.

You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.

Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you.

Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist.

You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.

You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both.

Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier.

His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs.

He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers.

Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans.

"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply.

You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.

You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls.

"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.

"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.

You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes.

“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.

A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.

"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine.

"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass.

"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.

“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.

Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”

“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect.

Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.

He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.

You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.

Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit.

You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it.

“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip.

The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.

You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.

You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.

You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.

They're everywhere, they're all over you.

Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.

You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop.

“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his.

The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.

You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it.

Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release.

“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.

Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you.

"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.

The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.

Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.

"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.

"Yours," you whimper.

"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"

"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.

"Aah!" You groan.

“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.

"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.

He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly.

“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.

“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”

The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.

And you fucking love every single second of it.

After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you.

He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us."

They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.

“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."

Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.

“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.

You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening.

But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.

Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure.

You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something.

She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.

Take care of her tonight. Dave adds.

Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.

You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.

The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable.

You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it.

"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.

Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.

You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."

He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"

"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been.

"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles.

"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy.

"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.

You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur.

“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile.

He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.

"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear.

"I loved every second of it," he assures.

"No jealousy?"

"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."

You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments.

You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him.

"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"

"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”

You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.

"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?"

You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah."

"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.

"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.

You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.

It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty.

His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.

“Did you do something to the power?” You query.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns.

“You guys thought of everything.” You smile.

"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.

You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.

It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house.

Underneath is a message typed out:

You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.

The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:

“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.

"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms.

I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃

🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀

MASTERLIST

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toxicanonymity · 2 months

Text

The Worst

1.3k, Tom “Redfly” Davis x DARK f!Reader

SUMMARY: You make Tom pay for Frankie's death.

WARNINGS: I8+ DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE noncon or very dubcon p in v, implied murder, roofie, forced gun sucking, restraints, degradation, praise kink?, Dom reader. Tom survives / Frankie dies AU.

Dedicated to @romanarose who is hosting a write a thon for the @triplefrontier-anniversary.

Happy 5 years to Tom ruining everything. He's the worst, but I'm sorry to say he's also packing.

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

You pretended to take comfort in him during your grief. Your flirtations over the past weeks had all been a ruse, as were your advances tonight. You always had one goal – to get Tom tied up in your basement.

Finally, you had him sitting at your kitchen table drinking a night cap. You rubbed his thigh and he looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive, if only he could muster the energy. His eyelids were heavy with lust and a roofie.

“Maybe we could, uh, get more comfortable,” Tom slurred, nodding toward the living room.

You downed the rest of your drink, set the glass down, and lowered yourself onto his lap, side saddle.

“Ohh,” he muttered with his mouth barely open. “Hello.”

“I was thinking we could go downstairs,” you purred.

He swallowed, raised his eyebrows, and nodded, “Sure.”

“Frankie ever tell ya ‘bout our hobbies? Lotta fun stuff down there.”

His face gave him away. “Uhh,” he stalled, “Sounds-” You ran your hand through his hair. “-Sounds good,” Tom muttered at a horny pitch. His eyes lingered on your lips, then he cleared his throat.

“I'm gonna need ya to trust me though, Tom. Can ya do that?”

Tom nodded.

“Yes ma’am,” you whispered.

“Yes ma’am,” he confirmed, clearly enjoying this. Your dominance was a perfect fit for his being a lazy sack of shit.

“Good.”

—----------

In the basement–more of a sex dungeon, as it were–you sat Tom down in a metal chair. He let you tie him up and barely objected when you zip tied his hands behind his back.

“Mmm,” he hummed as you did it.

“Good boy,” you told him, making him blush. His eyes lazily danced across your face in bemusement. “Now I'm gonna go change,” you said.

You returned in a black lingerie set – a lacy top over a strappy, crotchless bottom. You had tucked Frankie’s old pistol into the back of the bottom piece. The cool metal made your skin tighten with goosebumps all over.

You slowly approached Tom and watched his eyes consume you. Without sitting down, you straddled him so you were standing with your tits in his face. You let him play. He nuzzled his head into your breasts, then nosed at a nipple.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, then took one into his mouth, through the lace.

“God, you worthless shit,” you laughed with faux affection.

“Heh,” Tom chuckled sadly against your tit.

He didn’t notice you reach for the gun. You used the barrel to massage yourself through your underwear. He glanced down, then his eyes snapped back up to you. “Whoa, careful with that,” he laughed nervously with the barrel pointing right at his dick as you slid the cool metal against the lace covering your mound.

“This is Frankie’s,” you said wistfully and raised the gun to admire it. You used the barrel to nudge his chin so he looked at you. He froze. “You’re gonna suck Frankie’s dick now,” you nodded and slid the barrel up his jaw, then nudged his lips with the muzzle.

His breathing was heavier and faster. His eyes were less sleepy.

He maneuvered to dodge the barrel. “Listen, sweetie,” he started. “Are you okay? Maybe we’ll just — maybe. . . watch a movie tonight,” his voice trailed off as your face made it clear you were not fucking around.

“Open.” You grabbed his jaw. “It’s the least you can do, Tom.”

Tom swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered. “You’re right.” He let the muzzle into his mouth.

“Good,” you whispered. “Go on.”

You pushed the barrel further into his mouth. “Suck it, Tom. Suck Frankie’s cock.”

His face whitened as he began to hesitantly bob his head.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d be sucking Frankie’s real cock right now,” you reminded him and watched dread fall over his face. He hardly moved at all.

“You can do better than that.” You pushed the gun further into his mouth and his teeth hit the metal. “Good,” you whispered as he took as much of the pistol as he could. You held the back of his head and fucked his mouth with the gun. He looked up at you pleadingly and whined incoherently. You mercifully let the barrel out of his mouth, a string of drool falling down his chin.

“Look,” his face was serious and his tone was more sober. “I know you’re devastated. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We can–”

“Shut up.” You crossed your wrists behind his head and lowered yourself onto his lap. Your most sensitive area met his semi-hard bulge and you let out a moan.

“Oh, Tom,” you sighed, impressed.

As it turned out, there was one area where Tom didn't fall short, and your body wouldn't let you ignore it. “Fuck,” you whispered as he hardened beneath you. You were throbbing against him. The adrenaline already had your blood flowing, and now it was flowing south. His cock twitched against you. His breath was shallow.

He watched your face carefully. He was as quiet and still as a mouse.

“Got him killed, and now you wanna fuck his girl, don’t ya?”

Tom nodded hesitantly.

You scoffed. “With friends like you,” you started. “Pathetic.” A subtle lift of his hips took all your thoughts away as his warm, hard package rubbed against your front. You had never hate fucked someone before. . . With the gun still behind his head, you nudged the nape of his neck with the muzzle and he flinched. “You’re not gonna say a word,” you warned. Then you reached down between you and feverishly unbuttoned his cargo pants.

You reached into his boxers and gasped at the smooth heat of his naked girth against your palm. “Jesus,” you whispered as you took it out. A hint of cockiness tugged at the corner of his mouth before he appeared to remember his imminent doom.

With your gun hand, you braced yourself using the back of his neck for leverage. You took your thong to the side, then spit on your hand and wiped it on his dick. God how you hated this man. You lined yourself up, then sank down with a rush of pleasure to your chest as your cunt slowly swallowed his thick length. You closed your eyes and thought of Frankie as you began to roll your hips. Your heart was racing.

He moaned nearly silently as you fucked yourself on his massive cock. You got wetter and wetter. You could feel Frankie’s presence. You could practically smell his scent wafting off of Tom. You could feel the ghost of Frankie’s hands on your ass and practically hear his whispers in your ear. Should’ve ridden his face, he said in your head and you breathed out a laugh as you rode him.

You let out a sigh and Tom shuddered. You imagined Frankie’s brown eyes looking deep into yours, and your walls twitched around Tom’s cock. You whimpered as you came.

“Fuck,” Tom murmured through gritted teeth as you choked his cock.Then he erupted inside you. You groaned as his warm spend flooded your core.

When you were finished, you sat there on his cock and you both read each other’s faces. He knew his time was up. You took the safety off the gun.

“What a way to go,” Tom muttered in resignation. He winced as you squeezed him with an aftershock.

“You took him from me, Tom.”

“I know, honey,” he agreed. “It’s okay. Kid's better off with the life insurance.”

The next few seconds felt like minutes. Your heart raced and you could see Tom’s heartbeat in his neck.

Tom took a deep breath. “Just put it in my mouth.” He nodded. “And pull the trigger,” he whispered.

His gaze was apologetic as the muzzle once again nudged his lips. He closed his eyes with his softening cock still sheathed in your warmth. You didn’t feel a thing as the hammer clicked under your thumb.

-----

Thank you for reading!

my main masterlist

#triple frontier fanfiction #Tom Davis x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier write a thon #triple frontier anniversary #Tom “Redfly” Davis x reader #female reader #tw noncon #tw rape #tw violence #tw main character death #tw suicidal adjacent thinking #toxicanonymity ☠️#dark reader #triplefrontier #triplefrontier2019 #dark!reader

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bruhlpng · 9 months

Text

Pedro Pascal in Triple Frontier (2019)

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #ppascaledit #pedropascaledit #netflixedit #pedrohub #frankie catfish morales #this movie is so FUCKING DARK and awful to color #mine*#**

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iamasaddie · 7 months

Text

no eres tú (soy yo)

paring: dark!Frankie Morales x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 2.1k~ summary: Frankie has a thing for creating marks on your skin – bruises, hickeys, the like. He liked knowing and showing that you are his. a/n: This was written on a whim for Feral Frankie Friday. If it's not friday where you're at rn, just pretend that it is. The biggest thanks to amazing @patti7dc for being my beta on this work and giving her beautiful comments first <;3 warnings: dead dove do not eat; PWP; toxic relationship, physical abuse, Stockholm syndrome (kind of?), obsessive behavior, restraints, bruising, carving (not descriptive), brief fingering, unsafe PinV; ; no use of y/n MY MASTERLIST

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪʀʟ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

It was like his hands itched to squeeze you just a little bit harder, to see your skin tense up and then relax under his fingertips. His mouth searched every open surface of your body to latch on and create intricate patterns for the world to see. At the beginning of your relationship Frankie was cautious, the first time he lost control as he pounded into you from behind his large hands gripped your body and you whined from the new sensation, from feeling pressure somewhere else besides your stuffed cunt. He let go of you immediately, dropping his head between your shoulder blades and kissing you there while murmuring apologies, but you just blindly found his hands and brought them back, giving him the silent signal.

He squeezed you harder then.

"Amor, you like it when I am a little bit rough with you, huh?" He smiled, biting on your shoulder.

"You know it, Papi." You tried to turn your head and kiss him, but with a harder thrust from him you ended up just sliding your lips across his sweat-covered face.

He loved marking you, it awoke some kind of primal desire within him, and you loved seeing the shadows left by him on your most intimate parts.

Now, when you laid bare, your hands tied tightly to the bed's wooden headboard while your legs were spread by his own thighs between, you couldn't remember for the life of you when it all went south.

One day your lover whispered filthy flirtations in your ear, placing a little hickey just behind it; and the other he was breaking your skin with his teeth, growling in your skin that he owned you. And you should've left, you really should have. When he came back a different, shallow version of himself you’d never seen before. When his hands became a little bit too rough for pleasure. When he smiled seeing your tears, and licked them away. When he stopped hiding little ziplocks with white powder inside. You should've left. But you didn't. It's like he was right, and he did own you.

With every new bruise he seeped into your skin deeper and deeper, and you thought that the next mark was going to grace your bones. There was nothing in particular that triggered his violence, at least there was nothing you could find besides the drugs. Every morning he’d wake up the same old Frankie that made you fall in love with him by reading you poetry in Spanish, and bringing you your favorite takeout when he met you after work. He’d kiss your stomach, licking the splotches of yesterday’s night blooming on your skin. You’d wipe the tear out of the corner of your eye, soaking in the familiar gentleness, your mind blocking the pain you endured mere hours ago. And then the night would come, and this new Frankie, the Frankie you thought you helped create, would show his face. The sharpness of his teeth would scratch your flesh bloody, the strength of his arms would rip your clothes and your hopes, and all you could do was let the tears fall, and let him mark you again. The bruises didn’t fade anymore.

"I missed you, amor. I missed you so fucking much." He rolled his hips, letting the hardness of his naked cock grind into your naked pussy. As he whispered the words, he bit your collarbone - it was his favorite place, the skin there so thin and soft, so easy to break.

You closed your eyes, the familiar stinging started to bloom under your neck. "I missed you too, Frankie." Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a twisted mixture of fear and desire coursing through your veins. When Frankie felt like that was enough for one spot, he unlatched his lips and teeth, giving the tender skin only the last lick. He raised his eyes back to you, giving you a soft smile. He was rarely this gentle at night.

"You should quit." He didn’t blink, and you raised your brows. What was that supposed to mean?

"What?" Your voice trembled, tinged with uncertainty. Your time together gave him enough time to learn your body better than you knew it yourself. He was obsessively attentive, listening to your every sigh and moan, watching your every twitch. He knew how to make you wet in bare moments, even when you thought there was no way. He used his knowledge now, too. Frankie let you rest from the abuse of his teeth, and too rough hands, by trailing kisses along your heaving breasts. He didn’t answer for a while, letting the question just hang in the air. His wet and firm tongue drew circles around your nipples, one at first, and then the other. You felt wetness between your legs becoming more prominent, and you let your hips grind back into his throbbing cock, allowing a tiny moan to fall from your lips. Frankie hummed with satisfaction before his teeth squeezed your puckered left nipple and tugged. Your loud whine drowned the beginning of his sentence.

"I said you’re gonna quit the job. I want you with me always." His lips were still close to your throbbing nipple, but he didn’t make a move to it, instead squeezing your ribs. His hands were huge, almost fully bracketing your sides with his thumbs digging into your skin the most painfully. "I fucking hate when you leave, and those assholes all stare at you, thinking they cancould have you."

That wasn’t a new conversation for you to have, except usually he used it as a sick foreplay before ‘punishing’ you for letting your male coworkers think they had a chance with you. You never did that. Your only interaction with men at work was whenever you or them gave the other some sort of paperwork. Frankie wasn’t easy to convince, though. When his ‘punishments’ became too severe, so much that you had to make up excuses at said work why you didn’t sit all day, you told him you were gonna transfer somewhere where there were no male workers. He called you his ‘amorcita pequeña’ that night, made you cum at least three times (with two being on his insatiable tongue), and left only one bruise, which to you was the greatest gift.

"Frankie," you furrowed your brows in confusion, "but I work with women. You know that."

"I don't fucking care." There was this animalistic glint in his eyes, something that pushed your Frankie deep down, until the morning came. You trembled in his arms and winced when his hands squeezed yet stronger still. "You’re going to quit, you understand?"

"But baby, we can’t afford that." You tried to call onto his smarter side. His work at the garage didn’t bring the amount of money that would cover the cost of your already humble dwelling. "How are we gonna pay the bills?"

He gave you a toothy grin before kissing you on the tip of your nose and tracing his right hand from your ribs to where you were almost connected, glued together by a sheen of sweat and an emotional chain.

"It’s gonna be fine." Frankie kissed your neck, and you turned your head on auto-pilot, giving him access to more of your tender skin. "I have something." He mumbled in the crook of your neck, the fingers of his right hand slipping on your arousal as he started playing with your clit, while keeping himself upright with the help of his left. You had to bite your lower lip painfully to focus on his words, instead of pleasure that he started professionally eliciting out of your body. "I leave in a couple of days, but I’ll come back in a week, okay?" His index finger left your clit as it found its way to your pulling entrance. He pushed in roughly and you moaned, the familiarity of his movements making your reaction almost Pavlovian. "And then you’ll never have to work again. Neither of us will ever have to work."

His words slowly settled in your brain and you struggled against the ropes that tied your hands to the bed frame. You had almost lost all the sensation besides the growing tingling of needles in your forearms. Once, you pushed him off you when you couldn’t stand his loving anymore, he became furious and outdid himself, the results of it causing you to have to work from home for the next week. That was the first time you saw Frankie terrified of what he’d done and it sparked a hope inside you. Maybe there was still a chance to get your baby back. Since then, he usually tied your hands up to the bed frame that he ordered separately from your classic one and installed himself; or behind your back, when his only need for the night was to take you from behind as many times as it took to get you both to black out.

"What…? What do you mean? Leave where?" You turned your head, but he never left your neck, exchanging his kisses for bites.

"Don’t think about it, amor." And it was hard to do so when he pushed his finger out of your throbbing cunt and grabbed his stiff cock, quickly aligning his weeping head with your entrance. He teased you by pushing just the tip in, and sliding out. Frankie knew, it drove you insane. Made you realize exactly how empty you were without him. Understand that there was no one but him for you. He kept playing with you, until your breaths became broken, mixing with whines. "The only thing you need to do right now is be with me," he whispered in your ear. "I’ll have to do something special tonight, we can't have people thinking you don’t belong to me when the bruises fade." He tsked, as if it genuinely disappointed him. You felt the rush of your blood stop at his words.

"Special?" You repeated back at him. The tip of his cock stretched your entrance and he mounted above you, staring back into your eyes with a smile.

"Yes, my love," he whispered, his gaze intense and predatory, and finally pushed in.

You threw your head back and felt the skin of your wrists breaking under the constant rub of the rough jute rope. No more t-shirts for you this week, and it promised to be the hottest one this summer. You’d dwell on it some more, if only the relentless pounding of Frankie’s thick cock didn’t erase every thought from your mind. Hundreds of days and thousands of bruises later, he was still the only person who could render you speechless just by sliding inside you. He never stopped biting you, this time stopping his lips above your left tit, close to where your armpit became wet with sweat. You lowered your head, burrowing your nose in his curls. You used to love tugging on them hard when you felt your orgasm coming up. If only you could do that now.

The fear of the unknown made your body tense up, and that made the feeling of Frankie’s cock even more intense. The only sounds in your room were the squelching of your cunt, constantly being stuffed, and Frankie’s lips slurping your abused skin. You knew he was as close as you when the pain surged through the spot where he sunk in his teeth. The warmth of his cum filled you and you let go yourself, feeling both your cum and your tears gushing out of you and making your body limp. You saw blood on Frankie’s lower lip when he finally released your flesh from his grip.

You waited a moment for him to compose himself, usually that was the time when he lazily undid the knots that were imprinted on your skin by then. He didn’t do it now, instead reaching out to the bedside table, stretching so that his softening cock didn’t slip out of you.

"Something really special," he mumbled, not even looking at your face.

He pulled out a little knife, tugging the blade out with his teeth, and brought the sharp edge of it to the side of your neck.

"Frankie?" The post-orgasmic fog that occupied your mind cleared as you felt the alarms going off inside you. ‘Run, fight, scream, do anything’, they screamed at you, but it was as if Frankie read your mind.

"Shhh," he pressed his fingers that still smelled of you to your lips, pressing them together, "I’m going to be careful, but it’s going to hurt a little, amor."

When he left for his mission, you missed him every day, gently touching the little scabs covering the letters on your neck and praying to God that he comes back soon.

Hope you could enjoy it! Leave a comment if you did 💔

🏷️ (just for this): @covetyou ; @sheepdogchick3 ; @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog ; @cool-iguana ; @oldenoughtoknoebettersstuff ; @bearsbeetsbeskar ; @gracieispunk

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie x reader #dark!frankie morales #dark!frankie #iamasaddie fic #pedro pascal #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut

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beefrobeefcal · 5 months

Text

Dark!Frankie Saga: VII

Chapter Seven: Bring It Home

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 3,740

Content Warning: angst, threats of violence, crime, snark, Major Character Death, stabbing, violence, betrayal, kissing

Author's Notes:

Y'all, I know you had big dreams for this chapter... and I thank you for your patience. Please don't hate me 🥺

The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

thank you to the following for being supportive good eggs & sounding boards: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @xdaddysprincessxx @thehalflifeofloveisforever @rebel-held @gracieispunk

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! when i feel like it👌

On the Waterfront Masterlist | Previous Chapter

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From the time Frankie pulled you onto his lap at the bowling alley to when he stood with you at your bedroom door, you felt like you were in a dream. A beautiful, hazy dream that you were pretty sure was going to end with him fucking you in your bed.

“You did good tonight, Honey.”, Frankie said sweetly, cupping your jaw and cheek in his big hand.

You couldn’t help but stare back, falling further for him through his deep, brown eyes. He but the softness in his gaze hardened as he sucked in a breath and released your face, stepping back. He broke the connection with you and looked away. He cleared his throat and nodded towards your door, leaving you feeling cold and confused. What did you do wrong?

“Night, baby girl...”, he mumbled as he turned, heading towards the lounge.

You opened your mouth to say something to him, but all you could do was feel your body react to the lack of his touch and your cheeks burn from the rogue tears that fell. You were alone in the hallway, and you didn’t know why.

*****

Pope had been outside in the shadows, trying to remain inconspicuous while on his phone, when the blacked-out SUV pulled up at the front doors.

“Yes, I know!... fuck you... I’ll call you back...”, he hissed quietly into his phone before ending the call and focused on the two of you returning.

He watched as Frankie got out of the SUV, holding his hand out to you, and saw the stupid look on Frankie’s face as he helped you down from the vehicle. Pope shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching Frankie pull you in for a disgustingly sweet kiss before he tugged you into the building.

He scoffed as he brought his phone back up to call his contact back, a message popped up on the screen.

Steven is done. Now what?

Pope grinned as his deviously sadistic mind’s wheels turned; he pocketed his phone and walked into the building.

*****

Frankie’s heart was beating fast as he walked away from you, and his palms were sweating as he clenched his fists. He didn’t stop until he was standing in his office, shakily sucking in his breaths, and he allowed himself to think about what had just happened. It was one thing for him to go down on you in the bowling alley and hold you as your body came back down – he was still in control. But looking in your eyes as you looked back at him, seeing the same thing he felt staring right back told him he was no longer holding the reigns in this, and it terrified him to his core. He felt like you could see who he really was under his harsh and mean exterior; under it all he was just the former drug addict who battled his demons daily to keep himself upright; just the man who made himself bigger so he could be respected, because no one was going to respect a scrawny junkie. And if you did see it, why did you still want him at all? Did you see weakness? Did you know that just asking him for a kiss would make him weak in the knees? Why did he allow you to get under his skin?

He was finally broken from his trance when the door to the office opened behind him. Frankie whirled around and found himself facing Pope.

“Fish... you got a sec?”, Pope asked, cautiously approaching him, with a judgmental eyebrow raised. When Frankie nodded, trying to shake the weakness of you from his mind, Pope nodded back in kind.

“What d’you need?”, Frankie said coolly as he made his way around his desk and sat down heavily on his chair.

Pope walked up to the desk and leaned heavily on, deciding not to tell Frankie that he saw him come back with you, and how he saw the look on his face and knew what it meant. He instead decided to set in motion what he hoped would be the last thing he needed to.

“I got a message... from one of the grunts under Will... he was making the rounds and checking in on people that owe us...”, he said quietly, trying to sound nervous about what he was going to say. “and, he - uh…”,

“Fuckin’ spit it out, Pope.”, Frankie groaned after a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“He went to Steven’s...”

“Who the fuck is that and why do I care?”, he growled, not looking up at him. “Get to the fuckin’ point!”

“It’s your girl’s brother...”

“What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, feeling his blood run cold.

*****

After being left on your own, you sat in your room, feeling the buzz from the beer slipping away and letting your thoughts drift towards more nefarious avenues. It hurt to know that no matter what happened, you would end up alone; your brother sold you out for more drugs, Benny hated and abandoned you, Will threw you into the lion’s den, and Frankie didn’t want you beyond getting what he could from you. And Pope... you knew what Pope wanted and it made your skin crawl.

The tears that you’d cried had mixed with your make up had dried on your face, leaving your skin feeling itchy and tacky. You needed to clean yourself up and give yourself some comfort, even if it was small. You stepped into the shower and tried to wash away your sadness.

After drying off and getting into your pajamas, you once again sat in your room alone. The weight of solitude was heavy on you, so much so, you could barely stand it. All you could do was pick up your Kindle and try to distract yourself until you fell asleep.

*****

Benny sat back and watched the other guys play a round of foosball. They’d invited him to join but he’d waved them off. He’d wanted to sulk and be angry with no interference; he couldn’t get your face out of his head from the last time he’d seen you the night before, and Frankie’s words to him sounded off like a fire alarm in his skull: She’s not here for you. Stick your dick in literally anything else, but that is mine.

He’d replayed your last interaction with him over and over in his mind over the past 24 hours, building up more rage and fury over how stupid you were being. He didn’t want you for himself; he wanted something better for you. There’s no way Frankie could offer you what you deserve. Fuck, no one in this fucking building could. He sneered as he shook his head, anger rising further each time Frankie’s words bleated in his brain and deafened the rest of his thoughts. Frankie told him to fuck anything like you weren’t even a person. You were just part of the wide scope of anything, like an object he could own and devour like he did everything else he wanted.

Will watched Benny silently from across the room. He saw his brother furiously twisting his hands and clenching his jaw; saw the vein in his forehead pop out as his face turned red with rage. Will knew he was at fault for this; he knew Benny had a soft spot for vulnerable people, especially women. He knew Frankie was wrong about how Benny felt, but he wasn’t willing to correct him and confirm that Benny wanted to fuck her as much as Frankie wanted to diet. But the powder keg that was hitting a critical point across the room in his brother was far more worrisome than he’d accounted for, given even a day going by hadn’t managed to dampen his rage. Benny could be a dangerous man, given the right mindset, and he wasn't afraid of violence or being violent. It was the reason he was so valuable to the Frontiersmen - he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty for the right cause, and Will worried that you were becoming the right reason for Benny to unleash that terrible dog in him at Frankie.

As Will decided it was in everyone’s best interest to try and quell the fire, Pope walked in with a smug grin aimed directly at his brother, and Will felt like he was about to watch a train derail.

“What’s with the long face, fucker?”, Pope crooned sadistically as he sauntered towards Benny.

“Fuck off, Pope.”, he growled in response, his eyes glaring up at the smiling man.

Will saw the determined, toothy smile breakout over Pope’s face as he squatted down in front of Benny.

“What’s the matter, baby Benny?”, Pope mockingly cooed, amusement bleeding from his tone. “You mad that Fish is cockblocking you from that sweet little puss – “

Benny’s hand jutting out and gripping Pope’s throat stopped him from finishing his sentence. He stood up, pulling Pope into a standing position as he stared wide eyed and clawed at Benny’s arm and wrist, gasping and choking.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”, Benny snarled, pulling Pope’s face close to his.

Will ran up beside Benny and gripped his shoulder, shaking him. “Benny! Drop’im!”

He yanked Benny’s arm back and Pope collapsed on the floor, gasping and coughing.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF ME!”, Benny roared as Will’s arms wrapped around him form behind and pulled him back.

“Fuck you, Pope! Fuck you 'n fuck your fuckin’ smug mouth!”, Benny screamed at him as Will continued to restrain him. ‘FUCK, WILL! LET ME THE FUCK GO! I’ll FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

Will knew Benny didn’t mean it. Sure, he’d probably take a swing and hit him – he’d done it before. But beyond that, he knew it was Benny’s rage talking.

Pope shakily looked up at Benny and offered him a cruel smile. Benny saw red; that fucker fueled his blinding rage, and he threw Will off him, storming out of the rec room.

“Don’t move, Pope!”, Will yelled, pointing his finger at him as he turned and ran out after Benny.

Pope smiled, watching him leave after his brother, seeing a brand-new opportunity. Fortune favours the brave…

*****

Benny was on a rampage. Like a rabid bear, he stalked the hallways, making a beeline to the barracks. He’d walked right past Frankie’s office, not even considering stopping there first to tear into him over what he was doing. Will quickly caught up to him, yelling for him to stop.

Frankie sat in his office chair. He heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and he looked up, but they moved past. He thought nothing of it until he heard Will.

“Ben! Stop!... Stop 'n take a fuckin’ breather, man!”

“FUCK YOU AND FUCK POPE AND FUCK FISH AND FUCK THAT STUPID BITCH!”

“You’re not thinkin’ this through! You don’t wanna hurt her, Ben! BENNY!”

Will’s panicked voice caught Frankie’s attention and he stood up, listening to the sounds move further down the hallway. He knew not to get in Benny’s way when he was mad, but he was heading towards you and the idea of Benny being in this foul of a mood and even Will wasn’t able to placate him didn’t sit well with him.

Benny threw the doors to the Barracks open and screamed your name. Even being in a separate area, the volume at which he called you made you jump. You dropped your Kindle on the bed and moved cautiously to your door. You clicked the flimsy lock on the doorknob, and you jumped heard the door to the hallway slam against the wall from how hard it was flung open.

Your heart was beating deafeningly loud in your ears, and you backed away from the door as the thumping footsteps got closer and your doorknob jiggled.

Just as soon as you were mentally thanking what every deity was listening for that lock, the door was kicked open and there was Benny. Breathing hard, his face twisted in a snarl and his fists clenched.

You looked up at him, not sure what he was going to do. “Benny... wha - “

“You're so fuckin’ dumb!”, he yelled, stomping towards you and cutting you off. “You’re fuckin’ smarter than this!”

He stood over you, his hot furious breaths fanning over your face. You tried to back away, but he grabbed at your arm.

“Don’t fuckin’ move!”, he yelled in your face, his hold on you tightening.

You yelped and tried to pull away from his grip. He shoved you back, sending you to the floor. Shock gave way to fear and anger as he stalked towards you, and you scrambled back into a standing position.

“Just fuckin’ stay down, you- “

“What do you want from me?!”, you cut him off, yelling in a cracked voice as tears welled up in your eyes.

His eyes narrowed at you and his scowl set further in his face. “I want you to smarten the fuck up! I want you to stop bein’ a dumb bitch!”

You angrily wiped at the tear that fell down your cheek, and, for a brief moment, Benny’s eyes looked at you almost horrified at what was happening. Your face contorted with a frown, and you pushed him with all your strength, making him take a small step back to keep his balance.

Neither of you knew that Will was in the hallway watching this unfold, not sure how to intervene, and his focus was torn away from you both as Frankie walked into the hallway and stood next to Will, ready to jump in.

“What is your problem?!”, you screamed at him.

His menacing glare returned, and he stepped up to you, challenging you.

“My fuckin’ problem is you’re not thinkin’ with your goddamned brain!”, he bellowed. “My problem is you’re thinkin’ with your pussy like a fuckin’ whore- “

Before you could register your actions, your hand harshly made contact with his face; you slapped him hard.

The room fell silent, and Benny’s head snapped back to you, all fury gone. What was left was the look of hurt and disappointment, and you weren’t sure who it was directed at – you or himself. Will rushed in and grabbed Benny, hauling him back. Benny’s eyes didn’t leave yours until Will had dragged him out of the room, cursing at him for his temper.

And once again, you were alone. Your chin quivered and your body trembled as the rage dissipated from your system, replaced with shame and remorse. What did you do?

Before you could collapse under the weight of your actions, Frankie stepped into the doorway.

You raised your eyes to him and held back a sob as you shook your head, silently saying please – I can’t handle any more.

“Baby girl...”, he spoke softly as he walked slowly towards you and pulled you into his arms. You tried pushing him back, but he gently used his strength against you, holding you in his embrace. His gentleness after the harsh intensity of what you’d just experienced with Benny broke you, and you let out a heavy sob that wracked your body. His large hand held your head against his chest and he murmured softly, trying to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl... come on, Honey... calm down... he’s gone... I know, baby... I know... he’s gone now... I’m sorry... he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, baby... he doesn’t know what he's talkin’ about...”

“Stop... just stop!”, you squirmed out of his hold and stood back from him. You furiously wiped your face again and shook your head. “He’s right! He’s right about everyth - “

“No, baby girl... no, he’s not!”, Frankie pleaded, holding his hand out to you, beckoning you to come to him.

It made you angrier, his actions seemingly still trying to train you to be his good little bitch, coming when he calls. You shook your head, rage taking over. “I’m not a fucking dog! You don’t order me around like one!”

His voice was so soft. “Baby... Honey, please...”

“No! Mr. fucking Morales! He’s right - I’m just another one of your dumb whores that you can throw away! I’m no better than that bitch you had on your lap at the bowling alley! You just keep me like a pet and bring me out when you need a fuckin’ fix! You don’t want me - no one does!”

You didn’t realize you were screaming at him and walking towards him. Frankie’s hands were held up, trying to calm you. His eyes were wide and pleading, his mouth was open and frowning, as he shook his head.

“Baby girl… shhhhh… no… no, Honey…”, he shook his head, and cooed, moving towards you again. “No, Honey… you got it all wrong…”

“Don’t…”, you warned as you stepped back, glaring up at him. To Frankie, you must have looked like a cornered, feral cat, fueled by rage and fear.

You didn’t intimidate him. He reached out and cupped your cheek, as he’d done countless times before, but this time you pulled out of his grasp.

You didn’t scare him. But he needed your softness back; this harsh and jaded version of you hurt him in ways he didn’t know he could be wounded. His heart ached as his other arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him again. He smoothed his hand over your jaw, his thumb gently caressing your lips. You tried, albeit half-heartedly, to get away, but he saw the softness slipping back into your eyes.

You didn’t deter him. “Don’t push me away, baby girl…”, he said softly, bringing his face close. He ghosted his lips over yours. “I want you here… with me.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours. Your resolve to fight dissolved and you wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping for more contact with him. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, he followed suit, slipping his tongue against yours. You were both desperate. Yes, you’d fooled around in a bowling alley, but this was something that wasn’t scratching an itch or a power play; this was the two of you finally, without words, admitting that you needed one another on a baser, more human level.

Frankie pulled back first, breathing heavily and his eyes scanned yours, asking silently for more. You nodded, and with that, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your room and into his.

*****

After his run in with Benny and making sure his windpipe wasn’t crushed, Pope was back outside around the building in an alleyway. Hidden in the shadows, the only sign of his presence was his phone screen lighting up his face.

As he searched through images confirming Steven’s demise, a call came through. He answered it quietly, keeping his voice low but harsh.

“I need more time - … no, you don’t understand, he - ... I know that was the deal, but you gotta hear me out- … I can’t just… I know it has to look like an accide-… I tried! The fuckin’ little brother… Yeah… fuck, no… No… I know, but I ca-… fuck. Okay… I understand… Yes! Fuck! I got it!”

Will watched from the far end of the building. Pope’s voice, although quiet, carried, and Will’s mind raced, putting piece by piece together, not quite being able to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He didn’t know what he was up to, but he knew he didn’t like it.

He watched as Pope hung up and stopped himself from throwing his phone against the wall, and he clenched his fists and teeth. Will moved on his feet, causing the gravel to shift and crunch under him.

“What do you want, Will?”

He stopped, feeling his body tense at Pope’s recognizing his presence, even in the dark.

“Who you talkin’ to, man?”, he asked. Will tried to keep no discernable emotion or feeling in his tone, trying to keep Pope off his anxious scent.

“No one… one of the grunts fucked up… just tryin’ to set them straight.”

Will hmm’d in acknowledgement; he knew it was a lie and he knew Pope wouldn’t be convinced that he believed him, but he knew saying anything more would probably drive more suspicion.

“I’ll ask again, Will… what do you want?”

Will moved closer to Pope, trying to keep his voice down when he spoke.

“You gotta stop rilin’ Benny up. I know you think it’s funny, but he’s gonna really fuck someone up and we don’t need that.”

“Fuck you, Will… what are you, his keeper? His fuckin’ nanny?”

“I’m the last thing keepin’ him from killin’ someone… If wasn’t there tonight, you think you would’a made it?”

“So, what you’re saying its you’re the one keeping a leash on him?”

Even in the dark, Will knew Pope was facing him. He could feel the breath on his face. He was close – too close.

“If you weren’t around, no one could stop him?”

“Jesus, man… You know he’s got a fuckin’ temper... he needs someone to hold him back.”

“Yeah, he does have a temper.”

“Then stop pushin’ him! Stop antagonizin’ him!”, Will pleaded. He heard Pope huff a laugh.

“You’re in his fucking way, Will.”

Will heard the smile in Pope’s voice, and his blood ran cold.

“The fuck is that supposed’ta mean?”

Pope got close to Will and grabbed the back of his neck and held his face to his.

“You’re in my fucking way.”

Will felt a sharp sting in his stomach, and then warmth. Wet, hot warmth on the skin of his abdomen. The sharp sting erupted into searing pain, and he sucked in a ragged breath as his head spun.

“Santi… wha- don’t….”

“Fuck you, Will.”, Pope huskily whispered, ripping the knife out of Will’s gut. “This is on you. You wouldn’t let him just...”

“San-Santi? Pope? … why?” Will gasped, stepping back and clutching his middle. He stared up at Pope, wide eyed and trembling as he fell against the wall behind him and slid down to the ground. A tear slipped down his face as he watched his friend – his murderer – turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the alley to slip away into the inky darkness.

--------<3---------

TAGLIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @gwendibleywrites @romanarose

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#chubby!frankiedark #dark!frankie morales #dark!frankie still chubby though #on the waterfront #OTWF #major character death #🥩

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winniethewife · 5 months

Text

My blood would teach me how to love (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x F!reader)

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Self-harm, cutting, Degradation, Blood, Blood play, hematolagnia, violence, Fear play, Knife play, Pain play, dub-con, PinV, Fembodied, Dacryphilia, fingering, masturbation, Oral (F! receiving), biting, unprotected sex, Over stimulation, Hair pulling, Unrealistic kink (Please don’t do any of this IRL), google translate Spanish.

Minors DNI

For @romana-after-dark 's Dead Dove Do Not Eat December.

Words:1214

Felt so safe in the chaos

Fuck I think I was brainwashed

My tears are just like dust you sweep under the rug yeah

My fears my blood would teach me how to love

She sat in the bathroom, her hand still clutching the razor as the cuts on her thighs bleed. She watches as the red dots of her blood turn to streams. She started to feel the hurt wash away, replaced with the numbness she was seeking. She sighs softly, leaning her head back on the cabinet behind her. Why was everyday so intense, every emotion too much to handle? She was about to clean up when she hears him call her name. Shit. Santiago, she forgot they had a date tonight.

“Cariño? You in here?” Santiago knocks on the bathroom door, before opening it slightly, he looks down at the ground to avert his gaze if she was changing, but instead he comes in contact with her, the blood, the razor…He bites the inside of his lip. He hated how much this scene turns him on. He should be worried, asking if she’s okay, but a mixture of rage and arousal over took his mind. He kneels down and takes the Razor out of her hand. “What the fuck is this? Huh?” He asks the venom in his voice pierces her soul. She looked at him, the fire in his eyes is obvious. She knew he would be disappointed in her, she had been clean for several months now.

“Cariño, you didn’t…Dios mio…fuck.” Pope is fighting with himself, he holds the razor tight…looking at the bloodied metal he loses it. He takes the metal to his own wrist and slides it across his wrist, once… twice …thrice…She looks on in shock.

“Santi…What are you doing?”

“Oh so you can cut yourself but I can’t? That’s idiotic.” He sneered, his eyes darken as he hold his bleeding wrist to her face. “You see this? You see this Tu perra estúpida? You want that? You like that don’t you?” He snarls as he presses the blood on her face, his breathing gets heavier as he watches the fear creeping onto her face, Pope puts the razor on the counter moving to lift her. Once she’s in her arms, he licks the blood off of her face with a growl. He takes her to her bedroom, tossing her on the bed. He takes his pocket knife out of his jeans pocket, he seems like he’s gone completely feral, and losing his sanity inch by inch as both her and his blood starts to appear on the sheets. As he hovers over her he holds the knife to her throat. “Qué putita! Bleeding everywhere for me right? Como la puta que eres.”

“Santi…I-”

“Cállate la boca. I’m gonna show you…Oh I’m gonna show you…” he growls again before yanking off her under wear and moving down to her weeping cunt, lightly dragging his knife along her skin as he moves. He pushes her legs apart with one hand, the other holding the flat side of his knife against her cunt. He felt his cock pressing on his jeans, begging for release, twitching in anticipation. She lays there terrified, but aroused? She feels the cold metal of the knife against her, and she feels a tingle up her spine. She pants as her feels her hear racing as his dark eyes pierce hers. He pulls his belt out of the loops with a loud snap before tossing it to the side. He moves the knife along her inner thigh, he pressed the tip of the knife into her skin just enough to draw the tiniest bit of blood. She whimpers softly, she doesn’t want him to stop, but it also feels so fucking wrong to be doing this.

“Esa es mi niña bonita…” He whispers as he sets the knife aside and pulls his shirt off, undoing his jeans but leaving them on as he looks at her. Lust in his eyes as he situates himself between her legs. He drags his hand along the cuts, staining his hand red, he keeps eye contact with her until his face in her cunt. Laping at her juices as her pushes his tongue along her strip, his nose bumping into her clit again and again drawing moans from her. he takes her blood soaked hand and pulls his cock from his pants, running the red along his cock, he sighs into her pussy at the sensation, as props himself up with is other arm he feels the sting from the cuts. He groans again, the pain feels so good. He lets his teeth graze her as he eats her out like his life depended on it. Her legs twitch and her cunt clenches on nothing as she starts to feel her climax coming.

“San-Oh god I’m gonna…fuck..” She groans out as her climax comes in waves over her body, the hot pleasure driving her wild. Pope bites down on her as he growls, she lets out a yelp.

“You should have asked if you could cum niñita…Now I have to punish you…” Popes voice was low and gravely as he pulls down his jeans and gets on top of her, tearing her t-shirt off as he grabs at her breasts, getting blood all over her chest as he hungrily bites as her nipples, like he wants to tear her tits off. The tip of his dick pressed on her entrance, not going in just teasing as his pre-cum mixes with the blood and her own release. She lets out a whine as she felt hot tears in her eyes, the pain was good, but it was all so much. Propped up on her elbows she throws her head back in pleasure only to have Santiago grab her by the hair and yank her hair pulling her head back up to look at him.

“Eyes. On. Me.” He commands. He moves up her body, wrapping his arms around her, holding her head to maintain eye contact as he finally thrust into her needy hole. Their bodies drenched in sweat, blood, and tears as he fucks her, fast and hard, not holding back as she digs her nails into his back and tears stream down her face. “Eres tan jodidamente bonita cuando lloras...Mgh…Fuck yes, Perfecta para mi…” He groans as he touches his forehead to his as he thrusts even faster, he feels his climax approaching and he cannot stop. He pushes against her, Pressing his lips to hers, swallowing her moans as he licks into her mouth, biting on her lips, breaking the skin, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth drives him over the edge. His eyes roll back in his head as he coats her walls with his release. His thrusts slow down, the moaning dies down as He holds her close.

Santiago opens his eyes again to see the blood stained bed, his lover covered in blood and sweat, laying limp in his arms as she takes deep, labored breaths. His head starts to clear. He looks them over, both of them covered in red. He pulls out of her, gently kissing her neck as he held her, her soft skin against his. He feels his own tears falling down his face. He presses his forehead against her again as the tears fall from his soft brown eyes.

“Por favor perdóname mi amor…Forgive me… Cariño…”

“Shhh….All is forgiven…Mi vida…Santiago…”

Masterlist

Translation:

Tu perra estúpida: You stupid bitch

Qué putita!: What a little bitch!

como la puta que eres.: like the whore you are.

Cállate la boca.: Shut your mouth

Esa es mi niña bonita: That's my pretty girl

Eres tan jodidamente bonita cuando lloras; You're so fucking pretty when you cry

Perfecta para mi: perfect for me

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romana-after-dark · 4 months

Text

Room's on Fire Masterlist

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

When they decide it's time to and heir to be born, they chose a virgin from their cult and make her their wife. Reader is offered a choice, of course. She doesn't have to marry them. But if she doesn't, the savior won't be born. She choses to become the Madonna. She is wed to all four of them, and moved into their home where her body is open to use whenever her husbands desire (free use au), in the hopes of getting her pregnant. It doesn't matter whose baby it ends up being, because they are all part God, so it doesn't matter... right?

Warnings for full fic, if anything is added or really emphcized it will be in additional warnings.

THIS IS A DARK FIC THOUGH SO BE WARY! I CAN'T PROTECT AGAINST EVERYTHING.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Unknown amount of chapters right now.

Chapter 1: Pilot: Delta finds their Madonna Chapter 2: The wedding Chapter 3: Aftermath of the wedding FishBen: Symptom of Being Human Chapter 4: Pope is not pleased. Chapter 5: Jonah lore, Madonna gets through to Frankie Chapter 6: Madonna gains Frankie's heart, Santi is jealous Iris: Rey and Iris find pockets of time Chapter 7: Fun with Ben: wining Pope back Chapter 8: big announcement to the community

Non canon Frankie Madonna Chapter 9: Madonna’s blissful ignorance to the world around her. Chapter 10: There's a lot Madonna doesn't know.

Chapter 11: Things start to crumble around Madonna

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16:

Chapter 17:

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Bonus Content

not necessary for the series. Pieces in the main list are suggested as they add depth and sometimes small plot points.

"Can you peel my orange?" Jonah smut

Jonah Hanson character ai

ROF characters Star signs

Jonah x non-Madonna reader x Marcus flashback commission

Art

By @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

By @survivingandenduring

Lil comic by @my-secret-shame

As I said, a lot of themes and dynamics ended up accidentally similarly to Watch Your Step by the amazing @charnelhouse Some was because that fic is what developed my characterizations of the boys. Some was totally incidental, like Pope and readers relation to art. It's different though, a much different series, but I wanted to tell y'all that she s PUBLISHING WYS AS A NOVEL NOW, Its called Cardinal Sin's and I'll link it right here!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

THANK YOU FOR YOU'RE SUPPORT!

Please remember to reblog, and I love comments/asks, anon or not, and would love to see engagement and theories!

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romanarose · 2 months

Text

2000 followers!!!!

Graphic by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 🥰🥰

Wow, I'm in tears y'all I can't believe I'm at 2k!!!!!

I'll be straight up, the 1k celebration was a lot ;-;

And with school, I can't commit to a whole lot especially writing things for people who don't interact with my shit at all. So, I decided to do something specific

My talent lies in series more than one shots. It's where I shine. So I think the celebration will be centered more around my different universes! Acceptable universes will be listened an linked at the bottom.

Here's how to participate!

Fuck Marry Kiss

Pic 3 canon characters or OC's from any universes. If you say "Marc Spector" Specify if its from Seattle or Sunshine. Make sure I know which series bc there slightly different characterizations sometimes. Same with reader. MOST of my readers have a nickname like Little One or Madonna. Example: FMK: IYWBW Santi, Lorenzo, and Puppy Girl reader

2. Bonus chapter or thoughts (or thots)

Ever wanted to know how Zach and Lorenzo fell in love? Ever wondered what Jana and Will's friendship is like? Wanted to see what Guard Dog! Joel and Reader do for fun? Now is your chance! Please be clear if you're looking for thoughts or an organized chapter. Example: Can I please request a scene with how Santi calms down Laci when she has PTSD now that's she's a few years into healing? Example 2: Was wondering if you had some random thoughts of what shows Jake and Sam have watched together over the years?

3. Crossovers!

Want two characters from different universes to meet? Have a cross story ship? Think two readers or OC's would be besties? Think a pair of characters would be fun in a different AU? Come on over!

Example (From Fen): Leather and Lace Santi and Laci meet The Wrong Way Joel and Little one

Example 2 (Also from Fen): What if Sam met Becca.

Example 3: I think Angela from Blessed be the Fruit would absolutely love Candy and they should date.

Acceptable universes to ask for fics or crossovers from:

If You Wanna Be Wild (Santiago Garcia x Latina!Reader/OC x Javier Pena) with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside (Steven Grant x OC x Marc Spector) Seattle (Marc Spector x Jewish!OC) Leather and Lace Universe (Santiago Garcia x OC, Frankie Morales x AfroLatina!OC, William Miller x Vietnamese!OC, Ben Miller x M!OC) Awakening (Reader x all 4, IronPope, FishBen) Darkness on the Edge of Town (Joel Miller x reader, no age gap) DBF!Joel Miller Holiday Fucks (Joel Miller x reader, large age gap) Pieces from my dark side blog @romana-after-dark are allowed too. I have 2k followers here but Ill want to open the worlds in here to the event.

The Wrong Way (Dark!Joel Miller x reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x reader DDDNE) Guard Dog (Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!reader) Blessed Be the Fruit (Dark!Joel Miller x darkish!reader) Puppy Girl (dark!Joel Miller x reader, pet play) Room's on Fire (Reader x Santiago, Francisco, Will, Ben, FishBen, FishPope)

If you have other ideas, just ask!!!

Spring Break is coming up so im excited to do some of these and my commissions!

I CANNOT thank my lovely followers enough for all this!!! I love writing so fucking much and many have reached out to me about fics being healing for them

so, thank you. I mean it. Man of these stories, like LaL universe or TWW have been healing for me, processing a lot of feelings through them and i pu tmy heart and soul into my stories, so it makes me so happy and proud yall want to read.

#romana's 2000 follower celebration #triple frontier #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #santiago garcia #jake lockley #joel miller #moon knight fanfiction #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #triple frontier fan fiction #dark joel #dark joel miller #santiago garcia x reader #follower celebration #romana is blessed

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ozarkthedog · 5 months

Text

Snippet Sunday

Thanks for the tag @janaispunk 🥰

tagging with no pressure: @rosellacwrites @ghotifishreads @holacia3 @thornsnvultures @palioom anyone else who wants to share!

here’s a tiny glimpse at my dark!triple frontier fic that I hope to finish before the new year. 😅

“No, no, no.” He snatches your ankle and you let out a terrified scream. You claw desperately at the earth but he easily drags you back before landing a swift slap to your cheek.

He shakes his head as you lay stunned between his feet. “Wrong place at the wrong time, huh, darlin’?”

He palms himself over his tactical pants. “No sense in fighting. We’re your saviors.”

👀👀👀👀

#wips #dark!triple frontier

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 5 months

Note

for your spotify wrapped:

69 baby!

Hottest wettest nastiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

Warnings: Reader is a peeping tom/listening to people having sex, noncon (Frankie and his date don't know Reader is there), creepy/stalking behaviour, getting off to people (unknowing) having sex, Reader is a creep, Frankie is a bit of a sleaze, dirty talk, degrading talk, underwear stealing (not the way you'd expect) let me know if I missed anything. This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not interact. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.

For my Spotify Wrapped Ask Game 69: Radiohead - Creep. I wish I was special, but I'm a creep.

You shouldn’t be here.

The sounds of Frankie and the girl he brought home an hour ago echo off the walls of his bedroom and through the door you’re pressed against. Jealousy twists in your gut like a knife.

You have no right to be mad, you’re not together anymore. He dumped you.

You scold yourself as you sit with your back to the ensuite door. The cold floor biting into the flesh of your ass as you try and figure out what the fuck to do.

“Fuck yeah Frankie, your tongue feels so fucking good!” Frankie’s date cries out and you have to stifle an embittered moan as you remember exactly how good Frankie is at giving head.

You feel your thong getting wet at the sounds coming from the room. Frankie’s low groans make you clench around nothing as he devours the pussy on the other side of the wall. You want to touch yourself, to get off to it, but you’re not a creep.

At least I don’t think I am.

You muse silently to yourself as you hear the creak of springs as Frankie and his date shift on the mattress. Sounds you know far too well. They’re etched in your mind as you remember how it feels to be pressed into the navy sheets, Frankie’s thick cock buried inside you as you scream his name.

You hear the tight gasps and whines that he pulls from her as he fills her up. Your fingers dip below your waistband of your lacy panties. The ones you’d worn just in case he caught you tonight. You came by to pick up the last of your things, chancing that Frankie would be in on a Tuesday night, but you had found the apartment woefully empty.

So, you had moped around the apartment as you picked up the paltry amount of your leftover belongings. You were hovering over his underwear drawer when you heard the door unlock. You’d stripped down to your lacy underwear and thrown yourself down on your – his – bed when you heard the woman’s laughter.

So, obviously doing the logical thing, you hid in the bathroom, with no time to throw your clothes back on.

“God you’ve got a tight little cunt baby, look at her, choking my cock so good.”

You slap your free hand over your mouth as your Frankie talks to his date just like he used to with you. Your arousal sours as you realise you clearly weren’t anything special to him in the end. He talks to all of his conquests this way.

You let go of the last shred of shame and roll your fingertips over your clit, sliding them down to your aching hole as you fuck yourself to the sound of Frankie screwing someone else.

Every pant and moan drives you closer to the edge as you use both hands, two fingers stuffed deep inside you with one hand while you rub furious circles over your clit with the other. You’re close as the headboard begins to slam against the wall behind you. You know Frankie’s close too, you can hear it in the way he groans.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” then your name slips from his lips, and you think you imagine it. But it’s too late you’re coming hard around your fingers as you ride through it.

“What the fuck?” the woman’s voice shatters any doubt as you hear a commotion in the next room. The straining of bed springs and the sound of Frankie trying to backpedal are drowned out as your head falls back in a wordless cry. Your orgasm continues to rip through you, like pleasure and pain twisting around your spine as you let out a soft laugh. Your name falling from Frankie’s lips are playing on loop as you clench hard around your own slick fingers.

You hear Frankie storming after his date as she clearly makes to leave. You hear the front door slam followed by silence. You can only guess Frankie followed her out. You wait a minute before leaving the bathroom on shaky legs, dressing quickly before something catches your attention.

A pair of Frankie’s boxers, no doubt the ones he wore tonight, strewn on the floor. Discarded.

You act on impulse and stuff them in your coat pocket before slipping out of the apartment with your meagre box of meaningless crap. You take the back stairs and head to your car. Your legs are still a little wobbly and you grin to yourself at the way your slick sticks to your thighs.

You slump down in the driver’s seat just as you get a notification on your phone.

A Text.

Frankie: U up?

I love you @beefrobeefcal

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artemiseamoon · 6 months

Text

Preview: Is this how it ends? 6

Fic info & warnings

Read on A03

Words: 5,218

A03

Rhea’s eyes fixed on the window as the sun rose on the horizon, golden rays of light cast across the sky like brushstrokes accompanied by oranges and blues.

The heaviness of a long night was now absent from the sky, but no matter how much sunlight streamed through the room, it still felt like midnight.

Rhea barely slept. She kept reliving the afternoon before, what she could have done differently if she kept her anger in check, and how good it felt, even in the context of the situation, to see Frankie’s face, finally. And, she was also worried about Will, she had to make sure he was okay with her own eyes too.

In order to do that, she’d need to gain some trust with Pope, which she might have ruined yesterday. She didn’t regret it, she was pissed, and sick of his games; at the same time, she needed to find a way to control herself so she could get on his good side.

When they got back to the house yesterday, she was locked away in the room, where she’s been since then. She had a small amount of food and some water delivered around 6pm by a guard, but Pope himself was a no show.

Rhea kicked the covers off then sat on the side of the bed, her eyes moving to the Armoire full of dresses and shoes. Even the actual closet had clothes in it he picked for her.

“Stuck in a fucking dollhouse.” she muttered with a frown.

Even the pajamas she wore were selected by him. Rhea got up and started to pace.

“Fine Pope, you want me to play, I’ll play,” she opened the closet and thumbed through the clothes while going over a plan in her head.

Read on A03

No tags

@artemiseamoon-updates

More vibes of this trio aka Rheas phone

#dark! Pope #santiago pope garcia #Santiago Garcia x ofc #Frankie morales x ofc #Frankie morales #will miller #Benny miller #triple frontier fic

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beefrobeefcal · 7 months

Text

Dark!Frankie Saga: I

Chapter One: Signed and Sealed

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 4,353

Content Warning: Not smut yet (apologies), references to SA, drugs, violence, threats of violence, crime, food talk, weight talk

Author's Notes: An everlasting and beautiful thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for their never-ending THOTs, hot takes, and for beta'ing this. Your support is why I adore this platform - Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜 Y'all say thank you to Nevy for basically brainstorming this with me!

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry.

I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

--------<3---------

The reality of the situation was hitting you hard. Your older brother, the one most would think of as a protector, had betrayed you in the worst way imaginable.

He had a drug problem for the majority of his adult life, but now it had become a full-blown catastrophe. Steven, your brother, owed money to some of the worst people in the state, maybe even the country. The Frontiersmen, a powerful syndicate, had allowed him to rack up a ridiculous debt that they knew he wouldn’t be able to pay, but you didn’t know what he’d put down as collateral – you.

You were now nothing more than a bargaining chip to prolong your brother’s coke problem and buy him more credit. You were now property being handed over to a terrifying group of men who made a profit off of people’s darkest needs.

“I know... I know I fucked up... I know I did.”, Steven sobbed into his hands in front of you. “I thought I’d be able to pay them back...”

You sat in your living room, numb to it all, watching Steven cry. You knew he was sorry now, but you doubted it was because of what he’d done to you. No, you were sure it had more to do with the fact that the Frontiersmen had cut him off until he paid his debt. Until you were turned over to pay that debt.

You weren't sure if it was minutes or hours that you sat and watched him sob in your living room, but it was interrupted by a knock at your door. Your head took a minute to process that your body was already moving and opening the door.

Standing in front of you was a tall, blond man and a shorter, dark haired man. Both their eyes were on you in cold stares. You just stared right back. You guessed who they were, or at least what they were doing here at your apartment. Wordlessly, you stepped aside and opened the door to allow them entrance.

The taller, blond man moved passed you and into the living room while the smaller, dark haired man waited for you to move so he could close the door and lock it.

You gave him a curt smile and nod, stepping back away from the door.

After closing the door, he turned around and looked you up and down, with a small, yet menacing smile. He huffed in a dry laugh before motioning you to the living room.

A sour feeling washed over you and your mouth salivated like you were going to be sick, but you looked down and walked into the living room where your brother was on his knees in front of the blond man.

“... so she had no idea you signed her life away?”, the blond man scowled then turned to look at you.

His icy stare caused you to shrink and wrap your arms around yourself. You stepped back, bumping into the shorter, dark haired man. His hands came to your arms gently and he held you in place.

“Benny...”, he warned in a low tone. “We came here for two things: payment and a reminder.”

Your body trembled in his hold, and he rubbed your arms gently. You knew better than to believe he actually gave a shit about you, and he was more than likely doing this to get you to go with them without making a scene. You weren't going to resist; their reputation was more than enough incentive to go quietly.

“He’s a shitbag, Pope... fucking sold out his sister!”, he barks, his eyes narrowing at you, then snapping to the other man while he motioned his hand at you. “She didn’t even know!”

“Payment, Benny!”, Pope spoke sharply. “Payment and a reminder. That’s it.”

You jumped when Pope’s volume increased but stayed in place, and Benny looked at you again, his eyes now reading more furious than cold.

You swallowed thickly, the lump in your throat growing, and looked down.

“I’ll fucking remind this sonofabitch...”, Benny muttered as pulled out a rag and wrapped it around his fist.

Your lip trembled and Pope’s hands stopped their gentle rubbing, and he held your arms a little firmer, pulling you back against him.

“You don’t need to see this, honey.”, he said softly in your ear, causing you to shudder at the warmth and tenor of his voice. “Unless you want to...”

You kept your gaze low, not noticing the look of remorse and sympathy Benny gave you as you shook your head.

“Come on then.”, Pope said softly, turning you around and tilting your face up to his with his finger and thumb on your chin. “Are you gonna behave or do I have to cuff you?”

Your eyes widened and your body’s trembling intensified; you shook your head and squeaked out, “I... I’ll behave.”

Pope smiled at you, eyes roving over your face, and he nodded. “Let’s get some things packed up for you and head to the car.”

He watched as your shaky hands packed a bag in your bedroom; clothing, toiletries and personal items. He confiscated your cell phone and laptop, saying that they had to be secured first and you might get them back. He picked up your packed back and led you to the door.

The last thing you heard as Pope led you out was the sickening sound of a fist hitting flesh and Steven scream.

*****

Frankie was a reluctant leader. He didn’t ask to be put in charge, but his strategic problem solving, and his restrained demeanor worked in his favour to put him at the top.

Since Tom was taken out, both Pope and Will had said that Frankie was the best choice to lead the Frontiersmen if he gave up his coke habit. Kicking that was easy; the hard part was filling the void that was left. But he found something with relative ease.

Will watched Frankie as he finished his large pizza; he was now used to watching Frankie eat in their meetings. He’d watched as Frankie had gone from being a lean and muscled soldier with an angular face to what the new leadership role had carved him into over the past few years – big. His thick and muscled arms stretched his sleeves, his face was fuller with a patchy beard, and big belly pulled every shirt he owned taut around the middle when he hadn’t eaten to capacity. Despite his weight gain, Will was glad his friend and boss was off the smack.

“Where’s Pope and Benny?”, Frankie asked between bites.

“Picking up payment from that skid, Steven. Not money.”, Will said, eyes down in his notes, avoiding Frankie’s questioning look.

“Not money?”

“The collateral he put his debt against.”, Will said in a blunt tone, hoping to move on before having to elaborate. “We have a few things we need to iron out when they get back...”

“Collateral but not money?”, Frankie asked again in a firmer tone. “Explain what the fuck that means.”

Will sighed. This ‘collateral’ was a holdover from when Tom was in charge, and despite him not liking it, he felt it necessary to hold Steven accountable and take what they were owed; he agreed to the decision with Pope to move forward, and they were both going to tell Frankie about it. But Pope wasn’t back yet, and it was left to Will.

“It’s not money.”, Will said, avoiding Frankie’s raised eyebrows.

“Yeah... I got that. So, what is it?”

“His sister.”

Frankie groaned and put his head in his hands. “Please, for the love of god, tell me Pope isn’t bringing back a person in lieu of payment.”

“He is.” Will kept his eyes low. He knew he and Santi were taking a risk doing this, especially given they were going above Frankie’s head. But they also knew that Frankie needed to put fear in the minds of anyone who had a debt to pay.

Frankie’s jaw tightened and he sat back and looked at Will.

“Will.”, he barked. “Look at me and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“It’s an old contract we had with this guy... it was done up under Tom.”, Will paused, then sat forward, hardening his tone. “Look, Pope made the call and I agreed. You need to scare the people that owe you money; you need to collect on your debts. People are starting to think you’re going soft, Fish.”

It wasn’t a lie. Frankie was more lenient than Tom was, allowing for extensions and lighter repercussions. There were more people willing to deal with late penalties than actually pay, and Will didn’t want this to get out of hand. He just wished Pope was here to tell Frankie himself.

“Fuck.”, Frankie snapped. “Maybe so, Will, but we’re not human traffickers! We don’t take people!”

“Steven has a big mouth. He’s not going to sit on this. He's going to run his mouth, looking for help to get her back. Words going to get out that you – YOU, Frankie – took his fucking sister. He’s not going to tell anyone that he put her down as collateral. He’s going to paint you as the asshole who took what he was owed. It’s good PR.”

Will sat back, hoping this would be enough to keep Frankie from losing his shit.

“So, we took some girl because this fucking skid couldn’t pay.”, Frankie spat out, clenching his fist. He raised his voice, yelling, “And my name gets dragged through the mud as the fucker who called for it?”

Will raised his hands, trying to calm him. “Your reputation as someone not willing to let debts go unpaid is solidified, Fish.”

Frankie sat back, aghast. His mind suddenly went to Steven’s sister.

“Did she know?”

Will looked down at his notebook, then up again. “I don’t think so. Pope messaged and said she was pretty shook up.”

Frankie let out a heavy sigh and put his head back in his hands. “What else did he say?”

Will hesitated with a smile on his face and waited for Frankie to look at him. “He said she’s hot.”

*****

You didn’t look out the window to see where you were headed. Sitting between the two men, you glanced over at Benny, seeing the small spatter of blood on his sleeves – your brother’s blood. A sick vindication warmed your cheeks, knowing he was at least bleeding for what he’d done, even if it wasn't specifically for what he’d done to you.

Benny noticed you looking at his hands, and he grinned.

“He pissed his pants.”, he chuckled. “Had the nerve to beg me not to hurt him.”

You nodded, eyes darting back to your own hands in your lap. While it gave you a moment of reprieve from the imminent doom creeping through your mind, it didn’t help the situation he put you in.

The car slowed to a stop and Pope opened the door, getting out.

“Benny, take her to the rec room. I’ll get Fish.”

Your blood ran cold. Fish, otherwise known as Big Fish, was the head of the Frontiersmen and it scared you shitless to know you were going to meet him.

Benny nudged you. “Come on, honey.”

You looked up at him, trembling, and nodded. Shakily taking his hand, he helped you out of the car. Grabbing your bag from the trunk, he put his hand on the small of your back and guided you inside the building.

“Shakin’ like a leaf, honey.”, he mused. “Just behave like a good girl and you got nothing to worry about.”

You nodded again, feeling your chin quiver. Behave like a good girl. What does that mean? Sudden realization washes over you in a cold sweat as to what payment they could want from you. Your breathing became ragged at the thought of what they would do to you, do to your body.

Benny opened a door to a rec room with some men playing darts, drinking, talking.

“Clear out, boys. Boss’s coming down.”, Benny boomed.

All eyes were on you now, and with a firm look from Benny, they began to leave, murmuring and hushed voices wondering who you were and what was going on.

“Didn’t ask for you to clear out slow, boys!”, he barked angrily, making you flinch. “Fuckin’ move!”

With that, the room was cleared almost instantly, and Benny led you to an armchair, guiding you to sit.

“You want anything, honey?”, he motioned to the fridge, walking towards it, looking at you with a warm smile.

You shook your head, keeping your eyes low.

“You sure? We got some soda, beer... “, he said, taking stock of what was in the fridge, then turning back to you. His face fell when he saw the thousand-yard stare in your eyes.

He tapped the fridge with his fingers, thinking. He didn’t like that you were being used like this. You were pretty and seemed sweet, and definitely didn’t deserve what your skid mark of a brother had done to you.

“Hey. Can you cook?”

You look over to him and nod slowly.

“What’s your specialty?”

“My… my what?”, you asked, shaking your head.

“What’s your go to recipe that you know you’re good at makin’, honey?”, he responded, closing the fridge and leaning against it, facing you.

“I… I make a pretty good lasagna.”

Benny’s grin was wide, and he nodded. “Perfect.”

*****

“What the fuck were you thinking?”, Frankie bellowed at Pope, slamming his fist down.

Both he and Will were seated at the table in the office while Frankie stood, reprimanding them.

“Fish… the guy’s a fucking junkie and he wasn’t going to be able to pay. Just took what we’re owed – what you’re owed!”, Pope tried to reason.

“I’m not owed a fucking person, Pope! You shoulda just let Benny break his legs or something.”

“Broken leg isn’t enough for his debt, Frank.”, Will said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “He owed way too much money. Broken leg, even legs, isn’t going to cut it. Needed to be bigger. Something to scare him and anyone else not paying shitless.”

Frankie held onto the back of his chair and shook his head angrily. “Why didn’t you ask? Why didn’t you fucking talk to me first?”

Before Will could try and reason with Frankie, Pope casually said with a smile, “Because I knew you would’ve balked at it. Would’ve said no.”

Will sighed and gave Pope a glare and Frankie looked at him, furious.

“So, you run this fucking show now?”, Frankie growled with his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the chair.

Pope’s smile fell and he raised his hands. “Not what I meant, Frankie. I just saw an opportunity for you to make a statement and – “

Frankie harshly threw the chair out of his way and stalked over to Pope, leaning over him and spoke in a terrifyingly low growl.

“You go around me one more fucking time, Santiago, I’ll cut your fucking hands off.”

He kept his face, full of contempt and fury, close to Pope’s, and Pope nodded at him, sweating under Frankie’s glare, knowing full well what he was capable of – cutting off limbs being one of those things.

“You, too.”, Frankie snarled as he stood up, pointing at Will. “Understood?”

They both nodded. Frankie’s loud voice and stature, wide shoulders and strong arms, already made him intimidating when he was mad, but with the added bulk he was carrying, he was downright terrifying.

“Yeah, un-understood.”, Pope stammered.

“What do you want us to do with her?”, Will asked quietly.

Frankie leaned back on the table; it groaned under his weight.

“You brought her here with no plan for her? What the fuck is wrong with – “

Will interjected quickly. “She could be useful… for you.”

“What?”, Frankie barked, standing up.

Pope knew where Will was going with and added with a dark grin. “She’s a fucking hottie, Fish. Could be useful.”

Frankie shook his head and looked at Will, ignoring Pope’s comment, and speaking in a harsh tone. What do you mean – useful for me?”

Will swallowed. “Maybe she’s got some skills, can be put to work. If Pope’s right and she’s cute, what’s the harm? Not like she could say no to you.”

Frankie thought for a moment. She could say no… and if he fucked her anyway, what did that say about him?

“Jesus, Will…”, he huffed, shaking his head. His eyes coldly looked up and met Will’s, and growled loudly, “The fuck is wrong with you? I expect that kind of shit from him, but not you.”

Frankie moved and stood right in front of Will, arms crossed and glaring down at him.

“That’s not what we do.”, he snarled lowly. “That’s what fucking Tom did.”

Will glanced at Pope before nodding at Frankie.

He held the glare with Will for a moment longer then looked between the two men.

“Where is she?”, he sighed.

“With Benny. In the rec room.”, Pope murmured.

Frankie rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, then motioned for Will get her.

*****

Benny had been trying his hardest to keep you calm and distracted with questions and musings for the last hour and a half. He was occasionally interrupted by one of the grunts – as he called them – wandering in to hang out, not having gotten the run down from any of the other guys that the rec room was closed, and Benny would chase them out.

“… so this guy’s got a wrench and I only got a plastic spoon, and he’s comin’ at me with it – “

Benny’s story is interrupted by the door opening. He turned to yell at whoever it was to get out but stopped when another tall, blond man walked into the room. He looked you over quickly and nodded his head to Benny.

Benny stood up and walked towards the man and speaking softly. As they spoke, you could only hear bits and pieces, but you were able to pick up was that this man’s name was probably Will and Benny told him you could cook.

Will held his hand up to shush Benny and walked towards you. He sat down in the armchair Benny previously occupied, while Benny stood to your other side, hands in his jean pockets.

Will let out a long sigh as he sat back, elbow on the armrest and chin on his fist. You could feel his eyes burning over you as you kept your own low and on his shoes.

“Benny says you can cook.”, his voice was cool and flat, with a slight lilt to it.

You nodded. “Yeah… yes. I can cook.” You tried to match at least his flat tone, but the fear Benny had spent the last while trying to quell had sunk its fang s back into you.

Will nodded and looked at Benny, nudging his head to let him know he could leave - he should leave.

Benny huffed a nervous breath and left the room. But he didn’t go far; you could see his shadow lingering under the door.

“Not gonna beat around the bush, honey. Boss doesn’t want you here, and frankly, neither do I.”, he said plainly with a hint of warmth.

While there was no malice in his voice, the smoldering anger in his eyes said otherwise. You nodded.

“But you’re here, and you say you can cook. Boss needs someone to cook for him since the last one was caught stealing and… went for a swim.”

“I can cook… wha-what does the boss like?”, you ignored his last statement and forced yourself to speak.

“Boss likes pretty girls.”, Will chuckled with a small smile, leaning forward and putting a hand on your knee. “Especially likes pretty girls that can be useful.”

You lowered your head and nodded, trying to hold back the full body shudder that was desperately trying to rip through you.

He watched you closely when he spoke, trying to get a reading on how easily you were intimidated. While he knew Frankie would more than likely act like you weren’t there, he couldn’t say the same for Pope or himself, let alone any of the other men, and until Frankie said you were off limits, you were fair game.

“Don’t be shy, honey. No one else here is gonna be.”, he said with a dark chuckle. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him and the menacing glare in his eyes glowed.

“Just behave like a good girl. You might make it out of here alive.”

*****

The Benny who had tried to console you was gone the moment you walked out of the rec room with Will. He was now cold and stoic, no emotion, and he was intimidating. Benny walked ahead of you and Will walked beside you, his arm around your waist and they led you down the hallway.

Benny turned and opened a door, walking in and standing to the side, remaining at the door as if to keep guard.

It was an office. At the far end was a floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the wall, looking out onto the pier, with a desk in front if it, facing you. Behind the desk was a large, high back swivel chair, and in front of it were four plush lounge chairs, arranged to face the desk. Along the sides of the office were shelves containing books, pictures, and other personal odds and ends. Everything was either wood or brass, unless it was upholstered; the room was dated and smelled like stale cigars, old wood, and another scent that took you a minute to place - pizza.

Will ushered you to sit in one of the centre chairs facing the desk and stood behind you with his hand on your shoulder, as if he thought you might try and escape – you’d given up on that idea back in your apartment.

There were a pair of footsteps approaching outside the door and your body stiffened; Will gave your shoulder a squeeze as the door opened. You kept your head low and forward, not daring to look at who came in, although you were sure you knew who it was.

Pope came and sat in the chair next to you and smiled. Will removed his hand and sat in the chair on your other side, and Benny stood behind you. Heavy footsteps moved between your and Will’s chairs, and then you saw him.

He was tall with broad shoulders, and was wearing fitted, faded jeans and a black and red bowling shirt. His crossed arms stretched the sleeves, and the desk creaked as he leaned back on it. You dared to look up at his face, and you were taken aback; instead of the steely blue stare you got from Benny or Will, or the dark, cold void that Pope had, you were met with big brown, warm eyes looking you over, and a soft face sporting patchy facial hair and mustache. His hair was dark brown and slicked back. Your eyes flicked down his large frame quickly and you noted how his buttons pulled across his ample stomach.

“Huh.”, he mused quietly as his eyes trailed over you more blatantly. His tongue flicked between his lips softly as if he were thinking.

“Pope was right. You’re cute.”, he huffed, putting a toothpick in his mouth. “I don’t have any fuckin’ use for cute.”

“She cooks.”, Will interjected.

Frankie’s eyes darted to Will and then back to you, and he looks you up and down again.

“Okay… so you cook.”, Frankie said with a hint of annoyance. “What else you got?”

Your eyes looked up to his face and you were met with his mouth pulled into a tight line and his eyes baring down on you; the intensity of his stare was almost too much. He raised a brow at you as if to say I asked you a question.

You looked back down at your hands, needing to break the connection your eye contact with him had made.

“I used to… used to work in an office. I can file, balance books… other administrative… things - ”

“Interesting… Tell me you’re thinking the same thing I am, Fish.”, Pope chuckled quietly. “A hot secretary.”

He turned his attention to you and his hand moved to your thigh, his fingers roving under your skirt and up closer to your crotch. His voice dropped into a honeyed tone, dripping in venom. “You ever fucked your boss, honey? You’ve got four now.”

You try to not make any movements, but the subtle way you shift screams your discomfort.

“Jesus, Pope. Stop.”, Benny huffed under his breath behind you.

Pope chuckled and gave your thigh a squeeze before removing his hand. Frankie’s stare didn’t leave you; he wanted to see how well you handled being the target of men’s overt advances and their groping. His narrowed eyes watched as you tried not to squirm or give a reaction to Santi’s hand or words, and he frowned.

The only sound in the room was the desk Frankie rested on creaking as he shifted his weight. He sighed deeply.

“Ben, get her a room set up in the barracks. Take her with you. I’m fuckin’ done looking at this.”, he grunted, motioning his hand aggressively in your direction.

“I can take her.”, Pope chimed in with a low and crooning voice. You could hear the grin in his voice and his eyes in you, and you wondered what changed from when he came to your apartment to now.

“Fuck off, Pope!”, Benny hissed.

“Hey!”, Frankie yelled angrily. “Pope, stay right the fuck where you are. Benny, get her out of here. Now!”

Benny’s hand quickly came around to your arm, tugging you out of the chair, and out of the room. The last glimpse of Frankie you got was watching him glare at you from his position against the desk.

--------<3---------

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juletheghoul · 2 years

Text

The Huntsman (Part 1)

A/N; So I had this idea for a story and it has completely overtaken my life- and for the first time I have a clear vision of where this story will go. I hope you enjoy this because I am super excited about it! Special thanks to @foli-vora & @wheresarizona for listening to me rant about this, and to @frannyzooey for being super supportive with all my insane ideas ♥️♥️♥️

Pairing; Hunter!Frankie x f!reader

Warnings; Supernatural elements - witches / dark deals and implied violence. (smut to come in future chapters) (dark religious themes) Somewhat enemies to lovers, reader is a witch (Lilith's daughter) I have tried to make reader as nondescript as I can, let me know if you find coded language.

Word count; 5K

reblogs are appreciated

———

Queen Amira sighed, her fountain of youth had dried up, and for the first time in eons, real panic was setting in. The witch she’d captured had lasted years, her power - her life had kept Amira young and beautiful. She already saw the signs of decay though, fine lines and a glimpse of her true age creeping in through the gray in her hair.

She had to move quickly, the shadow of her debt loomed over her now, bigger than before - the dark deal she’d made in the first days of her reign what felt like both ages and only moments ago.

All was not lost, however, before the witch finally succumbed, she confessed her knowledge of another like her, more powerful than any she knew of, Lilith’s daughter.

She knew who Lilith was, of course, or at least the legend of her. The woman created for Adam, who was spurned when she sought to be his equal and thus became the first witch in existence. She would have been quite the prize, but there was no trace of her. She was as, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, a phantom no one could find, let alone capture. Her daughter, however, she would do nicely.

This was now her prize, the ultimate tool to find Lilith and a way to finally keep the specter of death, of the end of her reign at bay; and she knew just who to send.

At times it felt like a game to see just how quick a person could avert their eyes - something to keep the mind occupied while the hands moved through the practiced movements. The men were always the quickest, whether their eyes were filled with anger or resentment, fear or sometimes hope - they never let you meet their gaze. The children were a little braver, foolish but brave, and you couldn’t help but admire that.

“Will he survive?” This woman did not flinch away, her eyes were focused and clear, and although her hands trembled, she stood fast and held still while clasping the hand of her ill child.

“He will, but it will not be easy for him, and a price must be paid.” The fire grew for a moment, a bright flash in the somber darkness of the small cottage. “Something must be offered for his life.”

And the offer must be accepted, but that’s another matter.

The mix of powders on your hand spread across his face and chest when you blew on them, a short burst of breath onto his pale face.

“Anything- just make him better.” The boy's hand was at his mother’s mouth, a kiss he didn’t feel pressed against his knuckles.

“It will cost one year of life-” Her eyes widened. “From each of you.” The father’s eyes were on you now, and for a time, they were silent - the implications of your words, the price of their son’s health being weighed heavily.

“I will pay it.” The father spoke first, his voice deep and steady.

“As will I.” Tears shined on her face, both of them ready and willing to sacrifice what was necessary to save their child's life - you did your best to pin the bulk of your hair out of your face and very quickly got to work.

The clearing where your home stood was a calm place most days, but today the air itself stood still, even the grass and bramble that moved and swayed with the wind like some green ocean seemed frozen, and you knew she was here. Always with the drama.

The crows- Ivo and Magna flew past your head when you opened the door to your house, their wings batting at your head affectionately before making their place on their perch near your window.

“Hello, Mother.” You leaned against the open doorway, watching as she came up the little path through the trees, a trail of smoke in her wake.

“Hello, dear.” She smiled at you, perfect white teeth on display, a cheeky glint in her eye. “Have you been keeping up with your sight?” She was in a good mood.

“Didn’t need to- you aren’t subtle; I could sense you a mile away - I think you do it on purpose.” You closed the door behind her. “You’ve caught me just getting home.” You busied yourself with the teapot- digging through your stores for the tea she liked-there it is.

“You know I like to pop around every now and then.” She straightened her skirts, pointedly avoiding your gaze, and you knew she’d been spying again. “Check in on the others.” You sighed loud before turning to face her.

“What did you see?” You brought the tea cups over to your table, lips pursed. She furrowed her perfect brow dramatically - mock outrage on her pretty features.

“Such distrust! Can I not crave the company of my only daughter? Can I not have the innocent urge to check in on our little family?” She stared at you for a moment with her hand on her breast, but the facade was quickly dropped when you didn’t react. “Fine. Yes - I looked in on your future- someone has to!” She took a sip from her cup, ignoring your expression.

“Mother, you cannot keep doing this.” She tutted while you spoke, an aggravating trait you’d been dealing with all your life. “You know I’ve never been as gifted as you with sight-”

“Because it isn’t something that comes along with the rest of your power; it is a skill you must hone.” She reached over to take your hand in hers - genuine worry on her face. “There are so many things in this life that would snuff us out just because we are women. More things still because we are powerful women - I need you to take care of yourself. Big things are coming for you, and it will be difficult. Many hard decisions will have to be made, and only you can make them.”

“How very cryptic of you, mother.” The exhaustion was blurring the edges of your vision, but the look on her face gave away her genuine worry. “Fine.” You sighed through a tired smile. “You’re right - I will practice. Does this make you happy?” The crows cawed softly from their place as they groomed themselves.

“Yes, it does.” She smiled, satisfied with the promise that you’d do everything you could to prepare yourself for what was to come.

The hearth was cold despite the almost visible chill in the air around the great hall, and he knew for a certainty that it would remain so - most likely through the winter. The Queen had been advised that the cold was good for the skin, that it kept her youthful and fair; would preserve her, which meant the wood would remain unburnt. He scolded himself silently for not dressing more warmly for his audience with her, trying for all the world to keep his teeth from chattering.

The Queen spoke of a woman in the dark forest, a soothsayer some said, or a sorceress- a witch, and he could see what he’d have to do written in her face before she spoke the words.

“I want this creature brought to me.” Her tone was almost as icy as the windows lining the wall behind her throne. “Without delay and alive. Is that understood?” It wasn’t a request, it was a command, and he was well aware of why he’d been chosen for this task. He was her loyal huntsman, but it wasn’t just his loyalty that put him above all others who served her. He had heard the rumours and legends whispered about him by those who dwelled both in and outside the Royal palace. Tales were told of his brutal yet effective methods, and he could never say whether it filled him with shame or pride that most of them were true.

“At once, my Queen.” He bowed, his voice echoed through the barren hall and she nodded quickly, dismissing him wordlessly for which he was grateful - his quick stride out of the hall bringing him ever closer to the warmth of his quarters.

The ache was almost unbearable, the strain of sitting still for such a long stretch of time always took a toll, but it was unavoidable; you’d made a promise. The smoke swirled around your still form, clinging onto your skin and settling into your hair and clothing - nearly thick enough to cut through.

The birds were squawking from their perch, setting your teeth on edge.

Lucky I don’t roast the two of you.

The thoughts must have been louder than you’d intended because they quieted, allowing the long-awaited truths to be revealed, letting the smoke and stillness and incantations do their work.

He came through then, a man atop a great big horse trampling through the dark forest. Strong and determined, and his intentions were almost too easy to read with the stink of the Queen around him like a phantom.

A hunter, is it? Well. We’ll soon see about that.

It all swirled around in the ethos of your mind, an image of yourself captured - of the features of his handsome face furrowed with rage and then twisted up in carnal pleasure.

The visions were disjointed and scrambled - visions of blood and mud and smoke, and when it became too convoluted, you pulled away, you finally rolled your neck with a pained gasp. Slowly but surely moving your tense muscles and rising from your place in front of the hearth.

The toll those kinds of rituals took on the body-on the mind meant at least a day of rest, and that meant all but collapsing onto your bed.

He was astride a great black horse, armed with a great sword and a scowl, riding through the thicket and on his way to you. Even in the haze of the dream, you could smell the determination that clung to him- a bone-deep stubbornness that wouldn’t let him be satisfied until his task was complete. He would not rest until he found you, and you were going to let him.

You woke with a gasp, darkness all around your sleeping quarters with the moonlight filtering through the window coverings. With a yawn and a stretch, you made your way over to it, the moon was waning, and the stars were bright where they hung in the heavens.

A whole day I have wasted in bed. I must prepare- he will be here soon.

The crows were asleep on their perch, and you let them rest while you set about doing what needed to be done before he arrived; you’d rested long enough.

He set off before the sun showed its face over the horizon, his saddlebags bulging with supplies enough to sustain both him as well as his mount for the long ride to where she dwelled and back.

He knew where to start his journey, knew he had to enter the darkest part of the forest - where the villagers outside the palace feared to tread. It was said that it was home to all manner of evil things, monsters, and creatures mothers warned their children about in order to get them to behave, and although he knew witches were real - it was hard to put credence in things no one had actually seen.

It took the better part of the day to reach the border, the sun bright as he moved closer, now toe to toe with the treeline.

“Whoa.” The horse came to an abrupt stop just outside the wood, “It’s just trees.” He bent as best he could through his layers of wool and boiled leather - his hand rubbed at the horse's head to calm him. “Come now - let’s not waste the light.” he pulled on the reins lightly - guiding his mount into the trees.

It was like stepping into the evening. One moment it was midday, the sun was still hanging in the sky and lighting his path, but once inside, under the cover of the trees, the light all but disappeared. He looked up to see the thick netting of branches and leaves blocking out the sky. Along with the darkness was an unearthly quiet, all of the normal sounds of the outdoors smothered within the press of greenery. All except the sound of crows.

He could feel how nervous and skittish his mount was underneath him, and he couldn’t blame him. There was a prickling on the back of his neck, an icy finger skating along his skin underneath his clothing as he made his way further and further into the forest.

There weren’t many things in this world that scared him, nothing left to be frightened of- in truth, it was him that inspired fear in others, had for many years now. The woods, however, they were a different entity altogether, and within them, he felt the inklings of something; something that tasted like terror the longer he traveled through it.

He rode until it got too dark to see - he could not risk his horse stumbling over an errant root and injuring itself, and so he made camp as best he could, despite the prickling of fear on the back of his neck. The inky darkness swallowed him up, and within that darkness hid all manner of things, including the multitude of eyes he was convinced were watching him.

Soon I will have her, and I can leave this godforsaken place.

The horse whinnied, startling him out of his thoughts, and he did his best to calm the animal before setting into the most restless sleep of his life. He yearned for the quiet comfort of his quarters as he lay on the hard-packed earth, trying his best to slip into sleep, but whenever he finally did- he dreamt of watchful eyes in the dark.

The crows flew overhead, circling the space above until they grew tired and perched on the tree in front of you- watching as you collected cuttings from the garden. They squawked loudly as you moved from plant to plant - there wasn’t much time left now.

”I am well aware, thank you.” You spoke quietly, but they heard you nonetheless, and a heavy silence fell over the little clearing near your home - you knew the hunter was close, but this was something else.

The smell of sulfur filled your nostrils, and it was enough to make your eyes water - your heavy sigh filled the air as you shook your head in annoyance.

“What do you want?” You spoke without turning to look at the figure you knew was there. A low, amused laugh sounded, and you turned to keep an eye on him.

“A little hostile today, aren’t we?” He was nonplussed, picking dust from the sleeve of his coat as he stood there, taking up your precious time. “No desire to be wooed today, darling?” His eyes were lively, and you didn’t have it in you to be diplomatic today.

“No, and I am not your darling. When will you give this up?” You wiped your hands on the apron tied around your waist, gathering the bundles of herbs and flowers you’d collected. He laughed harder now; he always did love the chase.

“Not yet, but I think I might just be making a little dent in that granite wall you’ve put up.” The air around him shimmered, much like the air around the large bread ovens in the village. “Surely you must be a tad bit flattered that I wish you to be mine?” His head tilted, his eyes crinkled in a coquettish curiosity.

“And surely you must get tired of being turned down. I don’t know if being stalked by the Devil would be the ultimate desire for any woman.” The crows squawked once more - yes, I know, but he won’t leave.

“Oh, come now, you may call me Morningstar or Lucifer; I'd even let you call me Lucy if you liked.” He stepped closer, towering over you, a trail of scorched earth in his wake. “Why do you deny me? I could make you a queen.” You raised your eyebrows at him, hating how pleasing his voice was.

“Yes, you have such luck with queens, don’t you, Lucy.” You ignored the way his jaw clenched, ignored the way his eyes filled with flames. “She’s been on the throne an awful long time, hasn’t she? Looks like I’m not the only one avoiding you.” The whites of his eyes were gone now, replaced with obsidian glass.

“Amira.” Her name was a curse in his mouth. “She has been-troublesome and has found ways to avoid giving me what I am due.” His fist was clenched at his side. “I will get her eventually- I always do-“ You cut him off.

”I don’t have time for this, I have said no, and I will continue to say no. In any case, I am destined for another, so if that is all, I would thank you to leave me be.” His perfect brow creased with annoyance.

”We shall see about your destiny.” All the playfulness was gone. “We will speak again soon.” The ground opened then and swallowed him up, leaving a plume of smoke in his wake.

I sincerely hope not.

He rolled his neck, trying for all the world to somehow stretch the knot in it; a pained groan escaping around a bite of his rationed, hard black bread.

The horse was nervous, had been since they’d entered through the trees, and he did his best to calm him with soft words and whispers as they made their way towards the witch. He had a vague idea of where to go, the few people in the village he’d stopped to speak to at the start of his journey had told him that he’d only find her if she wanted to be found. That her home moved, that the trees were tricksters, and he had tried his hardest not to laugh in their faces. Instead, he asked them simpler questions. Whether there were any natural landmarks, any established trails, or roads, and they had answered the best they could - he did the best he could in turn with the information they provided.

He thought about their wild eyes now as he came to a fork in the road he swore he hadn’t seen a moment ago. A deep furrow took root between his brows as he studied both paths - one had shafts of light, despite the heavy press of trees all around them. It had a relatively level dirt path that his horse would have no trouble navigating through.

The other path was the complete opposite, it was the one you'd hear about in a folk tale that seemed to ooze danger, pitch black with the forest floor covered in gnarled, twisted roots. An accident waiting to happen, surely. The choice was obvious, yet the hairs on his neck raised nonetheless.

He ignored the prickle of unease, ignored the feeling in his gut that there was something inherently wrong about this place, and continued on his journey.

————————————-

He was faster than you thought, faster than he should have been, and he caught you unawares. Caught you digging at the little patch of dirt just outside your home, searching for the protection stone your mother had given you years and years before, managing to slip it into one of the many hidden pockets sewn into your skirts before a twig snapped just behind you.

A black hood over your head was all you saw before the world went dark.

The world was nothing but a blurry darkness at first, blood pounded in your eyes and in the back of your head, a horrid pulsing in your temples with every beat of your heart. New aches and pains reared their ugly heads with each full inhale-in your shoulders, your arms, and back-the realization hitting as the mind fully woke, tied up like a foal.

Crafty little bastard.

“Will you behave?” His voice cut through the quiet of the wood, the tiniest of smiles at his tone came and was quickly wiped away.

He can see me moving - very perceptive.

“Answer me.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth.

“I should ask you the same thing, you attacked me, I seem to recall.” He didn’t laugh, he didn’t make much noise at all. You sighed. “Yes, yes, I suppose I’ll behave. Whatever that means.”

Instant relief engulfs you when he unties your hands from behind you, and finally, you can rise from the awkward position you’d been in, can rub life and sensation back into your wrists. It only lasts a moment before he’s pulling your hands toward him and tying them in front of you.

“Is this how you would treat a lady?” You stare at him while he makes quick work of the knots- nothing you could easily slip out of- or so he thinks. His face is pleasant enough; soft brown hair frames his ruggedly handsome features- softer than his temperament in any case. His eyes are sharp, and so is his nose, but it suits him, gives him character- he doesn’t answer. “You’ve no words for me then?”

He huffs loudly, and you can almost hear the grinding of his teeth, moving away without an answer to drink from his leather flask.

“So, not only are you a snatcher, you’re a rude one at that.” You straighten out your skirts as best you can from your place on the ground, decidedly ignoring the way his head snaps in your direction.

“I am not a snatcher.” He catches himself, nostrils flared with irritation at being goaded into speaking. “I am a huntsman, and you are what I needed to catch. That is all the answer I have and all you will get. I warn you now- behave, and I won’t tie you up and strap you to the back of my horse like a sack of grain.” His eyebrow raises with the threat, and you almost laugh.

You bow your head in mock reverence, appeasing him. For now.

She was shockingly calm, a brave little thing if he was honest with himself and if he thought about it in too much depth - he knew he’d caught her almost too easily.

She’d been so unlike what he’d expected, lying there in the patch of grass outside the strangest structure he’d ever seen - a dark wooden structure in the shape of a triangle that looked wholly out of place; so much so that it didn’t seem to match her.

The possibility of her being so plain - so ordinary hadn’t crossed his mind- but these words didn’t describe her well enough. In truth she wasn’t plain at all - she was pretty, her skin soft, and she looked young - younger than he’d been imagining. It worried him to think that if he’d seen her in passing, he wouldn’t have thought of her as anything other than a pretty maiden.

This had not been what he’d expected.

And what did you expect? An evil, wrinkled crone? It is a glamour, some spell she has woven to deceive you.

It must have been, he had gotten the first taste of the spell she must be weaving when he threw her over his shoulder; she smelled like home - the home of his youth. She smelled like the first blooms of spring and fresh rain, like warm sugar. He ignored it all and focused on the task at hand.

You walked for hours through winding paths, made to trail behind him and his mount.

He was silent as he led you through the forest, hands tied with a rope he held in his fist, the only exception was the occasional snort of annoyance as he led you to what he thought was the right direction. Any attempts at conversation were ignored, your words falling on deaf ears as you walked and walked and walked more still.

Ivo and Magna were following diligently as they always did, watching from the trees as he led you in circles. It was well past evening when you stopped in the middle of the trail. He turned with a frown and tried to pull you along, but you held fast.

“I need to stop; I am not a mule.” You moved towards the bushes beside you to pick the wild blackberries that grew, but he pulled at your hands before you could reach them. “Stop that - I am hungry, and unless you’ve brought food for me, I need something, or I will faint.” You made to pick the berries, but once again, he stopped you.

“How do I know you don’t mean to poison yourself to avoid your captivity?” He was at your side, towering over you within a moment - surveying the fruit. You couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up.

The only reason you caught me, is because I let you.

“That would be a little dramatic, I think- they are blackberries, Hunter.” You kept your true thoughts to yourself, for now. “Just blackberries.” You pulled at the binds slowly, picking a berry to show him. His eyes were narrowed, but he took it and smelled it cautiously before giving it back.

“Very well. Eat your fill, and then we continue on while we still have light.” He went to his horse and left you to it. You took your time though, relishing the sweetness before finally moving forward towards your captor and continuing your journey.

He watched the trees, his face the picture of suspicion as the light faded, as the gloom of night fell heavier and heavier by the moment.

“Captivity, is it? That’s why you’ve stolen me from my home?” You spoke to his shoulder, but he didn’t answer. “Is there a reason why I’m to be held captive? Who has sent you after me, Hunter?” He sighed, taking note of the darkness that was swallowing you up, and you knew that there was no safe way to lead the horse any further.

“We will camp here for now.” He pulled off the dirt road and into a tiny clearing, holding tightly onto what was essentially your leash while he fed and watered the horse. “You-“ he turned to you now, “You will sit still unless you want to be tied up to the tree.” His eyes narrowed, his expression a warning, and you said nothing- he took it as acceptance.

“Will you tell me why you’ve captured me?” You sat on the cold hard ground while he set about lighting a fire, pointedly ignoring your question once more. “Is our entire journey to be this way? Me asking questions you will not answer?”

“Feel free to stop asking.” He found a few good-sized pieces of wood and piled them together before producing a large knife as well as some flint. When he had the fire strong enough to burn without his help he turned to you once more. “You’re in for a cold, hard night, Witch.” The word was a curse in his mouth. “I suggest you prepare however you need to but keep it quiet. I will answer no more of your questions.” His eyes were twin flames, both the fire and mistrust burning in them before he turned away to grab his bedroll as well as some other things secured to his saddle.

“And they say chivalry is dead.” He scoffed at your words but didn’t engage, instead he kept his eyes averted. He ate what looked to be cured meat and hard bread - “Am I to survive on air and your scowls then?” He took a deep breath before breaking off a piece of his loaf and tossing it into your lap.

It was exceptionally hard to chew, nothing like the steaming crusty loaves you made for yourself and when he finished you were still gnawing on it.

“I am going to sleep but before I do I am going to tie this-“ he held up the rope connected to your bindings. “To my arm. I am a light sleeper; I warn you now not to make me come looking for you.” His coal black eyes bored into yours for a moment before he followed through- fastening the rope to his arm, laying on the bedroll and closing his eyes.

Ivo and Magna fluttered down onto your legs once his breathing evened out. Both of them nipping at your bindings before you stopped them.

“It’s okay little loves, I must endure for now.” You whispered softly, “be a couple of dears and bring me what I packed. I think I left it on the table- the window should be open.” They clicked happily before taking off, their shining black feathers lost in the darkness.

They returned shortly after with the bundles you’d prepared. Dried fruit and dried meats, hazelnuts from the thicket behind your house. Enough to keep you from starving, not enough that he’d notice when you hid them cleverly in your skirts once you’d had your fill.

The ground grew softer when you finally lay your head down to sleep, a bed of soft springy moss grew underneath you and it helped to both make the ground much more comfortable as well as keep the chill out of your bones and with your own cloak tucked around you tightly, you fell asleep.

He woke with the dawn, both the light as well as the rocks that seemed to spring out of the ground as he tried to sleep kept him awake - making his night a torture.

He stood up with a pained stretch and was greeted with a vision that both shocked and angered him. The witch was asleep on what looked like a bed of soft grass, thicker than the rich carpets the Queen had in her chambers. He approached quietly to take a closer look, eyebrows raised into his hairline when he saw the flowers that had bloomed in her hair as she slept, making her look like something out of a fairytale. A cruel little part of him wanted to wake her; wanted to interrupt her rest so she’d be just as annoyed as he.

He ignored the urge and instead used the peaceful moment to relieve his bladder and pack up his bedroll. His mood darkened further still when he heard her stir, rolling his eyes at the contented sigh she let out.

He could already hear her speaking to him, asking him more and more questions; he took a deep breath and rolled his neck once more before facing her to start his journey anew.

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romana-after-dark · 2 months

Text

Rooms on Fire: I Will Run To You

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns more about her role and the dynamics of the household.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Extra warnings for chapter: Mentions of medical malpractice, death in childbirth, mentions of male sexual assault via power dynamics, lots of complex feelings.

A/n: next chapter things ramp up.

3.1k words

A/N I gotta apologize y'all. this was meant to include so much more but I guess this chapter is getting split bc I just put so much Jonah lore. I hope y'all are formal about liking him. We finally get some backstory on the uprising, Tom, and Madonna's dad, who BTW, had a name change. JACK IS NOW MARCUS more info after the story!

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

One so young, so changed Should not be left alone Two in love should confess And not be left alone And I will run to you Down whatever road you choose Yes, I will follow you down I will run to you ~I Will Run to You, Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty

“You paint a lot of fire”

Jonah’s voice startled you, making you turn around but you relax when you see it’s just him. Reyansh was watching you outside your studio, and Jonah coming meant you must be summoned somewhere.

You were painting a picture of a burning house, something you saw in a dream last night. Ben and Will treated you normally, fucking you but also spending time together. You supposed Francisco’s behavior was normal too, considering that he continued to treat you like you only existed to fuck when he had to fullfill his duty. He never touched you alone. In the week since you got your period Santi was ignoring you. He’d call you to his room, fuck you with your face pressed into the mattress, and then toss you out. Last night he shoved you into the hall with your dress still bundled up in your arms.

“I paint what I dream.” You mumble, tired and not totally there. You were terrified to sleep, and after a second visit from the succubus it was getting worse, forcing yourself to stay up later and later. Lack of sleep was making it difficult to be alert, and little noises make you jump.

Jonah approached where you stood, keeping a respectful distance. He’d been distant as well since the night you saw him, and you still were unsure what you did wrong and why Iris was so upset with you.

“You dream of houses burning?” His voice was gentle but curious.

You take a deep breath, too tired to fight off any questioning. It’s best not to lie, anyway. “Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of fire. I dreamed I was dancing in front of it. I dreamed I caused it, and it was out of my control and now I must dance in the smoke and watch as the flames consumed things that I loved.” A pause, tears beginning to burn behind your eyes. “Sometimes, he stood inside them.”

“He?”

“My father.”

Jonah drew in a sharp breath and you worried he thought you were sympathetic to his traitorous cause. You weren’t, you had remembered how betrayed you’d felt that he’d thrown everything away to follow Deacon Davis, the judas who had killed the Divine Mother. As per tradition, when someone is sentenced to death, they burn at the stake and the unmarried women are expected to dance. The closer you are to the individual, the closer you are to the fire. You had been Marcus’s only family, him and your mom having adopted you as an infant. He died in front of you as you danced, embers blowing in the wind and singeing your white dress and sensitive skin. You were only 12, but you knew right from wrong, and your father was wrong. Sometimes you woke up still smelling his burning corpse. You had danced longer than anyone, keeping all the energy your child body could give you until you passed out.

You turn to Jonah with tears in your eyes, “I hold no mercy in my heart for him, please know that. I am loyal to the Divine Mother, I am loyal to my husbands above all else! I don’t know why I didn’t get pregnant but know I’d die for them happily should it came to that!” Crying now, you desperately plead to him but it’s not Jonah you are speaking to, truely. You know Pope is questioning you right now, and you cannot bear the thought that he doubts you.

“Honey” Jonah’s voice is strained, pain anguishing him. “How much do you know about the uprising…”

Your face is wet with tears, almost shaking in fear and frustration. You didn’t know how you’d messed this up so badly so soon. You just wanted to be held, you don’t remember the last time you’d been held without sexual desire… it was probably your father, may he be damned.

“Deacon Davis… he was an advisor to the Divine Mother, a friend to my husbands… he and Deliliah conspired against the Divine Mother and her family. Dad- um, Marcus, was a part of the traitors and he allowed Deacon Davis into Divine Mother’s quarters where he murdered her. Deliliah was Will’s betrothed before. She had seduced him for information and, and betrayed her husband! I would never do that, Jonah!” You realize now why he was questioning you, he thought a traitorous blood ran in your veins. Had Pope sent him? Had Francisco seen the evil in your heart, the evil that was inviting a demon?? Or had Jonah simply seen you for what you were. “I would rather die than betray them! You have to believe me!” You sob, closing your eyes as you are no longer able to look into his in shame. Strong arms wrap around you, practically holding your body up.

Jonah held you tightly and you cried into his shirt, so tired, so sleepy… You just wanted to feel peace again. Jonah allowed you your release, wetting his shirt with your tears until your breathing slowed. It occurred to you that you were hugging and being held by a man who was not your husband, so you take a step back looking down.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I haven't slept well-”

“It’s okay, honey.” His voice gently reassures you. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.”

You shake your head. “No… no I’m happy, I should be happy here, happy with my husbands, I am!” You’d shown weakness, surely Jonah would tell Pope that you were unhappy, that this was proof of your doubt, of unworthiness… Instead, Jonah pulled a sleeve down on his hand, stepping up to you once more. He ran the sleeve carefully under your eyes wiping the tears.

“There is nothing wrong with feeling what you feel. Your husbands are blessed with a kind, beautiful, artistic wife and they should be so lucky you sit at their table, nonetheless someone who cooks them dinners and paint them pictures. It is they who are unworthy, not you.”

You gasp at the blasphemy. “Jonah! No, no they are-”

“Gods, I know.” He wipes snot from your running nose. “But you… you’re like a daughter to me, and a father is allowed to place his children above Gods. Marcus may not… he may not have made the right choices, but he wanted nothing but good for you, just like I do. So please, for me, show him and yourself a little grace.”

With a little sniffle, you nod. “Thank you, Jonah.”

He gave you a smile, the bright one you like that made his eyes squint. “Good girl. Now, I got a surprise for you that I think will brighten your day.”

Jonah watched as you practically skipped down the hallway. When he told you Frankie wanted to take you out for a picnic, you perked up so fast it was like you hadn’t even been sobbing in his arms a moment ago. He wished he could be honest with you, he wished he could tell you the truth about Tom, Delilah, and most importantly, Marcus… but you were so brainwashed, there was no way for him to break through to you. He couldn’t simple tell you everything you’d know and believed whole heartedly, your religion, your life, the very thing that you chose above your father was a lie… not yet anyway. Maybe one day you’d doubt, you’d question, and the first people you’d go to would be Iris or him, maybe even Reyansh. Rey played the part well of a good soldier boy, he wasn’t as overt as Iris was but he knew you trusted him.

Despite being late already with the crying, you insisted on stoping in your room to grab a ribbon for your heart. Jonah’s heart hurt watching you put so much effort into this.

Will treated you well. Despite Jonah and Will’s… past, he couldn’t deny Will was a good husband. He took care of you.

Ben was a little shithead and was absolutely going behind your back with women still he just couldn’t figure out who. Ben had to be more sneaky now. This didn’t stop him from very loud late night fucks with Frankie that it seemed only you and Santi weren’t aware of. Still, he gave you affection and spent time outside of sex with you.

Santiago, he expected nothing less. Santiago’s moods were unpredictable, they had been ever since he was a child. Jonah had known Santiago and Beatriz since he was young, when all this was fairly new and traction was growing more and more. Jonah didn’t exactly believe, but his wife Jess did. Maybe he did for a while, it was hard to not with the things he saw… Beatriz had taken an interest in him and thus, despite being married, he spent a lot of time at the mansion with her. Jonah felt like a hooker, like his body was a commodity and up for grabs from anyone, and the worst part was how okay Jessica was with it. She fucking encouraged it. “Its an honor!” It wasn’t such an honor when she died giving birth to Iris and was denied medical treatment. Doctor said it wouldn’t have helped. Jonah knew Beatriz had something to do with it. He was luck Irish lived. She was his only reason for living sometimes.

It was Frank he was surprised about. Jonah had known all four men for most of the 3 decades of their life, and next to Santi, he knew Frank the longest. Frankie was raised with Santiago, practically as brother. Beatriz couldn’t adopt him, because something something divine blood, but that didn’t matter when Santi pissed her off enough. Jonah had witnessed the lashings and beatings he had taken, but what seemed to hurt the teen the most was when Beatriz would hang his godhood over his head, saying that it should be Frankie who was the savior, not him. After Jess’s death, Jonah was moved into the mansion and promoted to captain of the guard. It was just an excuse for Beatriz to demand sex even more.

Frankie was a good kid, but he always followed Santi like a lost puppy. Santi became obsessed with Frankie, forcing Frankie to become more and more withdrawn. Still, the nice young man was in there somewhere, and Jonah would bring it out. After the girl came to his room crying about Frankie not loving her, Jonah spoke to him and said he needed to do better by her hence the picnic.

Rey was out at the stables by the time Jonah got there, preparing the three horses. He was there a lot, knowing a lot about horses. If he has any choice, Jonah was certain he’d have been a vet. Another life, he supposed. Jonah and Rey would accompany them since they were going out a ways.

“Hello, Francisco.” She spoke softly, but enthusiastic. For all he and Santi hurt her, she loved him.

Frank gave a small smile. “Hi, Madonna. I thought maybe we could take a picnic. Get away from… everything else.” He brushed the mane of the horse.

Everyone else, Jonah thought.

“That sounds wonderful!” You walk over to him. “What’s his name?”

“This is Cielo. And those two,” He points to the other horses being settled. “Are Estrella and Flora.”

“Will we be riding Cielo?” You ask, but Frank turns away.

“I’ll be riding alone.”

You look dejected again, so Jonah steps up, frustrated with Frankie. “C’mon, you can ride with me.” Jonah puts a put in a stirrup, launching a leg over the saddle and onto Flora, his favorite horse.

“Actually” Frankie interjects. “I think she should ride with Rey.”

Of course. 10 years later and everyone was still suspicious of him. Frankie climbed onto Cielo, and Jonah rode up to him, whispering. “Compliment her ribbon. She picked green just for you.”

Reyansh pulled you up and onto the saddle, allowing you to ride the side saddle to protect your modesty in the dress. If you knew you’d be riding a horse, you’d have worn pants. It wasn’t the most comfortable, and you feared falling, but Reynash’s arm was strong around you. He was careful to keep his hands at appropriate places, which you were thankful for.

“How is your painting going?” He asks, as since Jonah leads the group and Francisco is in the middle still not keen on talking to you. Still, this was a step forward.

“It’s good, thank you. It’s nice and peaceful. I miss-” You stop yourself. What you missed was when Santi used to sit and watch you paint, drinking his wine and intent eyes on you. It had been a comfortable silence. “I do miss having company sometimes…” You missed your husband, you missed his laugh, his smile, his praise.

“Hey, I’d love to sit in on a session!” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was smiling. “I’d love to see a real artist at work!”

You laugh just a bit, “I’m not an artist, but if you’d like to watch, I'd like that.”

“Deal.”

You sat against a tree, legs bent modestly in your skirt and eating the sandwich Iris packed. She also packed apple juice, which you loved.

Francisco was silent. He’d thanked you for your help setting up the blanket and spoken as he served his food, but now he simply sat there. He looked sad, but even then he was handsome. Francosco sported a mustache, which had remained consistent the whole time you’d known him. Santiago was growing out his hair and beard, which was making your heart ache even more that you couldn’t kiss and touch him like you wanted to. Still, the silence wasn’t awkward. You had begun to wonder if he was just… quiet.

“Thank you for taking me out.” You say, speaking quietly. Jonah and Reynash were circling the parameter and you felt… watched. “I hadn’t realized how much time I spent inside until now.” Had you even left the house at all since your wedding? When was the last time you felt sunshine before today?

To your delight, while still looking down, he smiled. “I’m glad. Don’t like seeing you cooped up in that house all day.”

Your heart warmed at his concern for you. Feeling emboldened, you scooch close to him.

“It’s not cooped up with the men I love.”

This makes his eyes flick up to you. He narrows them suspiciously, but not angry “You… love… me?”

Your heart nearly shatters at the question, and you can’t help but find him so endearing. “But of course I do!!!” Careful, you place a hand on his face and feel the patchy bit of stubble. “You’re my beloved husband!”

“But… you had to marry me.”

You shake your head. “No, Francisco I chose you, I chose all of you and I love all of you. Is that why you’ve been distant? Is that why you’ve been so cold to me?”

“I-” He stutters over his words. “I don’t think this is good for you… I don’t think I’m good for you…”

If there were ever words you hadn’t expected from him, it wasn’t that. Francisco was a God, he was holy, good and righteous, how could he not be good for you. It didn’t matter. Clearly he was hurting, and as his wife, it was your duty to make him happy again. “Francisco Morales, you are my husband, you are the foster child of the Divine Mother, and the love of my life. I chose you before, I choose you now, and I will choose you in heaven, Divine Mother willing.” You bring your face closer to his. “I adore you, in all your God and human.” Feeling brave, you bring your mouth to him and tenderly take his pouty lower lip into your mouth, making him whimper. You liked that sound.

“You choose me?” He whispers, slowly kissing back. “Out in the open, no secrets?” His voice is slightly higher now, almost whining as he begins to chase your mouth.

“Always” The desperation growing, you give him everything you have. You don’t care that it’s an open field surrounded by trees, you don’t care that Reyansh and Jonah could ride up at any point, and you don’t care who might see you. You were divine and if you wanted to make love to the god of nature in his own fucking land you will. You had Francisco Morales, demi-God, whimpering for your touch. You had HIM, finally had him and you weren’t going to waste it for one second. He wanted thing sout in the open, you would show him you weren’t ashamed to be seen getting filled by his seed. Before you, your husbands were not celibant, that much was known. The sex parties were stuff of rumors and you couldn’t decipher the truth from fact. However, it was clear that public sex was not off the table. Shame is a punishment for the sins of Adam and Eve, and for men born without original sin, there was no shame in sex. “I choose you, always.”

Frankie entangles his fingers into your hair, feeling the green tie in your locks. His other hand slides up to cup your breast.

“I love this ribbon, it suits you.”

“Whatcha think’n, old man.” Rey asks as he rides up to Jonah. Both are perched up on top of a hill overlooking the field you lay on and he watches you kiss Frankie.

“I’m thinking,” Jonah turns to Rey, nodding his head back home. “That I got it here, and since the others are out, you should run back and try and sneak some time with Iris.”

Rey smiled at that, but hesitated. “You sure? Morales didn’t seem like he wanted her with either of you.”

Jonah rolled his eyes, but it was good natured nonetheless. He liked Reynash, loved him even. He was a good kid. Iris was put in the position she was in, not any older than the girl was now, because of his shortcomings, his weaknesses. She was punished to punish him. She deserved all the good she could get, and Reyansh Saha was about the only bit off good left in this world, beside Iris and now Marcus’s kid he was looking after. He reminded Jonah of Delilah in a lot of ways. Always smiling. Always kind.

“Look at ‘em.” Jonah referenced the pair kissing below. “She’s going home on his lap.”

Rey laughed brightly, turning his horse. “Oh yeah, you’re quite the matchmaker!” And he road off, long dark hair wild behind him. Handsome devil.

The words matchmaker hung in the air. Was Jonah giving her false hope he wondered? Or was he giving her the time she had left and filling it with better memories. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was delaying the inevitable. It was always going to end one way for her. There was no way to live up to what Santiago wanted.

Because what Santiago wanted was Frankie with a womb.

SO MUCH JONAH HAPPENING!!!!!!!!

And poor madonna bc Jonah christ smelling your dad burn is a lot

So Marcus's face claim is David Habour, this came out of some chats with. @umnitsa in my romanaverse discord server. He is now your adopted father to keep things inclusive, but this is important as he has background info and ties in a lot. Think hopper in stranger things. Also May is already shipping him and Jonah so that ship name is Jonus lmfaooooo

If you are an active participant in one or more of my universes and have a discord (this means commenting or comment Reblogging, im looking for people who want to theorize and chit chat) dm me for a link! This is primarily focused on giving you extra content and sneak peaks but a lot of cool people are there too and you can share your work!

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

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