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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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joelmillers-whore · 6 months

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*banging my fist on the table* IF I DON'T GET SOME FICTIONAL COCK RIGHT NOW-

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales smut #din djarin #javier peña #marcus pike #javi gutierrez #marc spector #dean winchester

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absurdthirst · 11 months

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Happy Father’s Day to any fathers in our fandom and an honorary one to the man who loves to play one!!

(Jack Daniels DESERVES to be mentioned too)

#pedro pascal #happy father's day #Oberyn Martell #Dave York #the mandalorian #max lord #marcus moreno #joel miller #prospect ezra #frankie 'catfish' morales #agent whiskey #alllllll the fathers!!!!

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iamasaddie · 5 months

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frankie morales x night out turned a sweet morning after

#frankie 'catfish' morales #iamasaddie moodboard #pedro pascal

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pimosworld · 2 months

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Unrequited

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence, depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity, unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposals)

WC-5.2k

A/N- I hope you enjoy the first chapter and I’m just going to apologize now for the angst but it will get better…eventually. Happy Frankie Friday. @triplefrontier-anniversary

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 1 Love sick

adjective: love-sick

in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally.

Frankie hates how everything feels the same. When the wheels touched down and he exited the plane, it smelled the same. All of his favorite places to eat, the usual stores, the same amount of unbearable traffic. He wanted this to feel different when he returned home. Like he expected his friends and him to be waiting at the airport to greet him with open arms. Like they would roll out the red carpet for him because they all missed him so much. How could he expect that when he couldn’t bother to tell anyone he was still alive let alone returning home? That’s like expecting to win the lottery but never playing. That delusional part of your brain where you imagine how you would spend the money and how you wouldn’t tell anyone.

He’s home now.

The bile starts to rise up in his throat as he approaches the neighborhood he was going to spend the rest of his life in. He was going to live a peaceful, quiet life with him. After Colombia they would have enough money to do whatever they wanted. Relax and finally work out some of that trauma from their shared experiences in the military. He supposed everyone did settle down anyway. What choice did they have after coming back with practically nothing. He heard Will eventually got married and Benny took what little money he had and opened up a boxing gym. Santi-

How was he supposed to return to this life with him after everything that happened in Colombia. Santiago finally gave him everything he wanted on a silver platter, everything Frankie had been asking of him for years. Love me out in the open, Love me out loud, Love me without fear or consequence of failure. So he did. He finally told him ‘after this, no more playing games. We do this for real or not at all, I'm all in if you are.’

His response was to flee. One month turned into six, six months turned into a year. Now three years later he’s coming back to the man he broke and he’s not sure what he’s expecting but it’s making him nearly break out in hives. The outside of the house looks a little different but he can’t put his finger on why. It’s brighter and somehow cleaner. Maybe Santiago had it painted recently. He huffs his bag out of the cab suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier than any pack he’s carried through the jungle with rain soaked clothes all the way down to his socks.

The bench is still there on the front porch that Frankie found at a garage sale. The first piece of furniture that graced the home they picked out together.Frankie told the guys it would be easier if they bought it together. He’s not sure who he thought he was fooling but it certainly wasn’t Benny and Will. Tom didn’t give a shit, he was such a cheap bastard he truly believed they would buy a house together to save money. Another example of Santiago going along with whatever Frankie said as long as he got to call it theirs.

His hands are sweaty and his arms are shaky as he raises them up to knock on the door. Santiago hated doorbells, such a weird quirky thing he never explained makes him laugh now, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He waits…an uncomfortable amount of time before he thinks he could just turn around and act like he was never here until the door flies open.

You’re standing there practically beaming at him, he’s sure he’s got the most dumbfounded look on his face as he takes you in. You’re adorable as you lean against the door frame in a pair of leggings and a shirt he sort of recognizes, waiting for him to say something. Maybe he has the wrong house and you’re just sparing him the embarrassment. He’s completely bewildered when you surge forward and wrap your some around his middle, he instinctively despite you being a complete stranger embraces your hug. You’re like liquid in his arms as you press your chest to his and he can feel something awaken in him. The amount of warm bodies he found himself under or on top of over the years couldn’t compare to this consuming feeling. The worst part is how innocent you seem and how his thoughts are nothing but. He can smell you, a hint of orange and peach. Body wash, shampoo or perfume he doesn’t really care at the moment.

You mumble something that’s inaudible as you pull back and look at him, something sparkling in your eyes. “I was beginning to think you were like bigfoot, or the Easter bunny…or maybe even Santa Claus.” You giggle and it’s something else he has to add to the list. “Forgive me…it’s nice to meet you Francisco.”

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” That voice. The low sultry voice he’s sure he could never forget, not even if he tried. Frankie cried the day his phone was smashed and the voicemail Santi had left for him was lost forever. The last one he left, begging for him to come back, to come home. “Sorry she’s a hugger.” You sheepishly extract yourself from him as his body goes taut.

Santi steps up behind you, protectively and it cuts like a knife. His hand starts at the small of your back and wraps around to your front as he pulls you into his chest. You preen at the touch as you lean against him, kissing the dark stubble on his cheek. Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the fire in your boyfriend's eyes, a threatening stare that was usually only reserved for his enemies. He can see it then, shrouded in hurt and anger. She’s mine. Santiago won’t let him hurt you the way he was hurt. Thrown away and cast aside. That’s how Frankie thinks he’d paint the picture but that’s far from the truth. He was sparing him a lifetime of disappointment.

The feelings he had for you are going up in gray smoke like water doused onto a fire. This is a dangerous feeling, seeing you in his place. It’s not your fault at all that you met Santiago and walked into years of love,torment and jealousy. Frankie can tell how blindly you love Santiago, the way he loved Frankie all those years. He would lay down on a live wire for him, take a bullet for him, take public scrutiny and throw away his family’s judgmental stares for him. Being that vulnerable only puts you in danger.

“Invite him in silly.” You nudge Santi and he barely budges as he scoops up Frankie’s bag and slings it over his shoulder. You yelp as he pats you on the ass to coax you inside.

“Come on in Frank, make yourself at home.” His voice is raw and open, like Frankie’s heart. He grinds his teeth at the name he hates and the implication of home. But he deserves that. Santi is going to make him hurt.

****

The house looks relatively the same on the inside.

Some extra plants and a bookshelf, the distinct smell of lavender and vanilla are the only differences. He wishes it wouldn’t look the same, like everything else. It was like he never left, the same couch they used to spend late nights on, watching the same tv that sits in the corner. The same dining table that they would eat breakfast before going to work and dinner after a long day.

“I’m gonna make some cookies, since it’s a special occasion.” You wink at him and start moving around his kitchen like you know everything. The oven is preheated and you're mixing something into a bowl before he can blink. Humming some tune he’s sure he’s heard as he realizes the shirt you’re wearing is Santi’s favorite.

Santi slides up behind you kissing your neck. “Sounds like a good idea baby.” You glance up at Frankie looking a little bashful as you narrow your eyes at Santi.

“Why don’t you go put your stuff down in the spare bedroom.” Santi doesn’t move and that annoys him even more. He doesn’t have to show him where the room is because this used to be his house, still is technically. He stomps down the hall glaring at some artwork and photos he’s never seen. Stopping in his tracks when he sees a photo of the five of them in Delta. A stupid grin on Santi’s face because Frankie’s grabbing his ass while the photo is being taken. The younger faces of the Miller brothers and Tom.

He stops again when he sees the bedroom they used to share. Nothing much has changed about that either. The bedspread and the ungodly amount of pillows maybe…hopefully the mattress.

He sets his bag down against the wall and opens the window to let some air in. It’s stale and muggy so he shuts it immediately. He can still smell you on him and it’s driving him nuts. He got a whiff of Santi’s cologne during the brief greeting. That was different. He stopped wearing the one Frankie bought him on a mission in Morocco. Santi hadn’t so much as touched him during their hello and he’s not sure if that hurts worse than being able to hold him.

His body eases into the queen mattress as he leans back against the pillows. It’s much more comfortable than the previous one. Frankie never cared about the comfort of others and they argued about it. "It's just a spare bed, what's the problem?” Santiago would roll his eyes and he wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. ‘Our guests should be comfortable too.” He didn’t think they would ever have guests staying in their home other than Benny or Will and those bastards didn’t need a four star plush hotel stay. Now he’s a guest, in his own home and he hates how comfortable he is.

He’s exhausted…mentally, physically, emotionally. Too fatigued to even stand and turn on the ceiling fan that he’s staring at. He’s just starting to close his eyes when he hears a soft rap on the door. He sighs out in frustration, he needs a break from you right now, you’re too perfect and he’s too broken so he just needs a moment. He goes to protest when the door opens but it’s not you who greets him.

Santiago stands in the doorway with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. He looks as though he’s approaching a wild animal in a cage with their favorite treat to calm them down just before they tranquilize them. Frankie sits up as he steps into the room and sets the items down on the bedside table.

“They’re still hot.” His tone is warning like he knows Frankie is going to shove one whole in his mouth the moment he leaves the room and then complain that it burned his tongue.

Frankie wants to say something but now doesn’t feel right. His tongue is heavy like lead in his mouth and his eyes can’t quite possibly say all that he wants to. I love you, I’m sorry. “You look good.” It’s weak, Santiago knows it as he huffs out a laugh.

“You look tired.” It’s said more of a truth than an insult. He’s sad when he looks at him like someone he used to know. Frankie probably hasn’t had a good night's sleep in three years and that is Santi’s only consolation prize. He got a broken heart and Frankie got perpetual insomnia. “You can stay as long as you want Fish…dinner will be ready in an hour.” Santi exits the bedroom, closing the door softly, leaving his new cologne in the omnium of your scent that clings to him.

As long as he wants and as long as he needs are two very different things. He’s just glad as he takes a bite of the cookie that he’s graduated from Frank to Fish. This cookie tastes how you look. Sickly sweet and warm on his tongue. He’s glad Santi has left the room because he didn’t recognize the sounds coming from him as he savored his first homemade provisions in over three years. Surviving on street food that his stomach hated and questionable canned meat products. He can taste you on his tongue as he finishes the first cookie in the blink of an eye. Four of them stacked on the plate before eating dinner seemed like overkill at first but Santiago had tasted your cookies... He gets to indulge in them whenever he wants and this is just his way of taunting Frankie. He knows Frankie is a weak man who hasn’t let himself enjoy the pleasures in life for quite a while. Temporary pleasures don’t measure up to this.

He kicks off his shoes and props himself up against the pillows again as he absentmindedly reaches for another. A cool breeze whips his face as he looks up at the spinning blades. Santiago must have turned it on without him noticing. His mama always used to tell him to slow down and enjoy his food so he does in this moment. The first one he ate with such urgency like it would be his last, this one he can savor the hints of cinnamon and vanilla. The gooey chocolate makes a mess on his fingers. He glances over to see no napkin so he licks it off getting a hint of salt and peanut butter. There’s no way you could know unless Santiago told you. He holds it in front of him to inspect and sees the small peanut butter chips melted in. That was always his favorite and only Santi knew.

It’s much easier to fall asleep as he polished off the last cookie and most of the milk. This one hour felt better than any full night of sleep he got when he wasn’t home.

****

Frankie feels like his body weighs a ton. Waking up from his nap is disorienting as he remembers where he is. Sleeping in a room he never thought he’d be in, in a place he never thought he’d ever come back to. This short slumber after being sleep deprived for so long is like serving someone an appetizer and telling them the restaurant is closing early.

He showed up unexpectedly and you took it in stride. Like you’ve been here waiting for him this whole time to put the pieces back together. Frankie doesn’t think you’d mind if he skipped out on dinner for some much needed rest but his stomach grumbles as he stares at the empty plate next to him. The smell of garlic,onions and peppers coax him out of the bed as he stretches his creaky bones. He can hear laughter and the clinking of plates as he walks down the hallway, it dawns on him that he hasn’t showered in twelve hours but he doesn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. He’s been enough of a burden these last few years and he won’t let you bear the load any longer.

“Hola bella durmiente.” Santi’s teasing voice hits his ears before he sees him. He wants to flip him off but he’s too tired and that feels too normal.

Frankie glances at the time on the oven as you finish plating something that smells like home. “Shit it’s been two hours.” Santi whistles at him to sit down as he scrubs his hands through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it Francisco, this man takes four hour naps.” You lean over setting the plate down in front of him and your boyfriend. He watches you plant a kiss on Santi’s head, not to flaunt it but just because it’s second nature.

“You never take naps.”

“I’ve learned to relax.” Santi says with a mouthful of food as he points his fork. “You should learn to do the same, Frankie.”

He can breathe a sigh of relief that he can be Frankie again, even in jest.

He takes a bite as you settle in across from him, it’s perfect much like the cookies as he closes his eyes not afraid of the moan that leaves him. “Holy shit this is better than Santi’s Chile verde.”

Santi takes your hand placing a kiss on your fingers. “That’s why I don’t make it anymore.”

“Well don’t be shy, there’s plenty on the stove.” You smile at him and he notices then that you changed. A light touch of makeup and a little perfume. Santi’s still in his tee shirt and jeans but you’ve ditched the old ratty Metallica shirt and swapped it for a bright yellow blouse and jeans.

Santi clears his throat interrupting Frankie observing you. “She’s an amazing chef. She takes a lot of pride in her work, and I take my job as the Guinea pig very seriously.” He leans back and pats his belly.

You’re practically beaming at him as you stand to take his empty plate. He gently grabs your wrist urging you to sit as he absentmindedly grabs Frankie’s to serve them up some more.

****

Frankie used to run from his compliments or brush them off as nothing. He was always too afraid of the praise not realizing how hurtful it was to the other man when he would wave him off. Santi loves you in the way he always wanted Frankie to love him.

He’s grateful for the small talk during the rest of the evening. A few beers and a way too nice bottle of wine has him comfortably buzzed as he listens to you talk about how you met Santiago. In true Santiago form he almost ruined it before it even began.

It was at Will's wedding a little over a year ago.Santiago assumed you were a guest of the bride because he’s certain he would remember meeting you in the many years he’d known Will. He saw you just before the ceremony in a navy blue silk suit, the plunging neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. You looked lost and a little irked when he approached you asking to save him a dance.

He looked for you in the sea of unfamiliar faces during the ceremony and again during the reception. It wasn’t until a very unfortunate moment with a clingy bridesmaid in his lap drunkenly telling him about her new piercing that he locked eyes with you. There was a humorous look on your face as you winked at him. Two men approached you in matching white button ups and black ties and you snapped to attention. He could always tell when someone was giving orders and needed to be taken seriously. The men scurry away when you’re done speaking and start gathering plates and cutlery. Your face relaxes again and you wink at him exiting the ballroom as the girl screeches in his ear ‘are you even listening to me?”

“No sweetheart I’m not.” He quickly displaces her from his lap as she stands there dumbstruck by his actions.

He bursts through the doors and is met with a mostly empty kitchen. You’re standing there wide eyed with another girl in the matching uniform. “Finish boxing up the leftovers for the newlyweds and then you’re good to go.” You brush her arm as you walk past and beeline it straight for him.

“Lost?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No I ugh…you…-“ He’s scrambling as you stare him down unwavering.

“A man of many words I see.” You pick a piece of lint off his suit jacket and he notes your close proximity.

“You never danced with me.” He teases and you laugh a little. It’s a start

“You seemed to already have a dance partner…and as you can see.” You gesture around the kitchen. “I was a little busy.”

“Oh her…I don’t even know her name.” He winces as you give him an incredulous look.

You’re already walking away toward the ballroom doors before he can recover. He’s hot on your heels, never one to back down from a challenge. “So I can’t convince you to dance with me?”

You spin and he has to stop himself from crashing into you. “Maybe some other time Santiago.” You kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick reminder for any unknown nameless women.

“Wait…how do you know my name!?”

“I was warned about you.” You yell over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen leaving him there stunned.

It took a lifetime of bribes and I owe yous and promises of future baby sitting to get your number from Will. His wife Emma was pissed until you weaved your way into their lives and the rest is history.

****

It’s been at least an hour since you went off to bed, saying your goodnights to both men. They stayed mostly silent on the couch as they stared at some movie on the tv. Neither one of them paid any attention. Just waiting for any signs of life from you to die down in the bedroom down the hall.

Santi knew your night routine like the back of his hand. You’d wash your face of any makeup and apply what he thought was an absurd amount of creams and oils. You’d sit gingerly on the edge of the bed as you applied this lotion that smelled of rose and coconut, taking your time to cover every inch of your body. Smiling at him all the while asking if he’d like to join to which he’d just tell you one of you had to be rough in the relationship. On the nights he didn’t personally see to it that you were passed out you’d read a few chapters of your book before falling asleep with your finger marking the page and he’d gently retrieve it from you before kissing your forehead making sure not to wake you.

It’s this thought that’s ticking away at him as he counts down the minutes silently while he watches Frankie’s leg nervously bounce beside him. He’s sitting in the spot he used to but he feels miles away. Stark contrast to how they used to be on this couch, cuddling and laughing while they talked about their future.

“Do you love her?”

The words that leave Frankie’s mouth rip through the silence like the sound of a thunder clap. Only the light from the tv illuminates the look on Santi’s face but Frankie can see it clear as day. It’s moments like these that Santi’s aware of his high blood pressure as the sound of his heartbeat whooshes in his ears.

“How dare you ask me that.” His voice starts low but the rage behind it is threatening to boil over.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Yes I love her.” He says a little louder, no lie or waver to his voice.

Frankie scrubs his jaw as he huffs under his breath. “I’m glad you moved on.” The sarcasm dripped from his tone and now Santi is seeing red.

Santi grabs the remote, flicking off the tv plunging them into darkness. “You think I just moved on the moment you left. You do remember being the one who left right?” He hates how Frankie can so quickly get under his skin. This is the exact reaction he wanted from him and he took the bait. “I waited for you. I waited and waited until Will had to pick me up off the floor and make me shower and eat and really take a look at the situation.”

Santi stands and paces the room as Frankie watches someone he thought he knew open up like he’s never done before. Santi loved him but he always let Frankie take the lead. He never put himself first and it almost swallowed him up whole. Frankie knows it’s not fair to judge any of his actions but he’s a scared animal backed into a corner and this is all he’s got left. One last fight before he lunges out in hope’s that Santi will tell him something to justify what he did.

“You may have been torn up for a bit but you look pretty comfortable to me.” Frankie gestures around the room as he stands in front of Santi. “You’ve got nice home cooked meals, all your friends, a beautiful house and someone to fuck at the end of a long day.”

Santi grabs his shirt shoving him back down to the couch. “Don’t act like your bed wasn’t warm these last three years. You and I both know how you are Frank.” Fuck he’s back to Frank.

“I didn’t love any of them.” Frankie says as Santi rolls his eyes.

“You want an award for not falling in love with them.” Frank grits his teeth as the sing song words ooze out of Santi’s mouth while he claps his hands in his face.

“You should keep your voice down, you wouldn't want to wake up your wife.” Frankie says and with no remorse Santi knows he’s wounded. A small part of him is glad for it.

With his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down face to face with Frankie. “She’s not my wife, and you’re not my husband.”

****

Santi quietly closes the door as he watches your sleeping form. It’s one of his favorite things to do. The steady rise and fall of your chest, wondering what peaceful things drift in your dreams. You’re wearing one of his shirts and probably nothing else. Majority of your wardrobe when you weren’t at work consisted of his clothing. It stirred something in him he’d never experienced before you. The way he was possessive over you…he never understood why Frankie would act the way he did when men and women would flirt with him until he met you.

How dare Frankie question his love and his loyalty. He was the one who walked away. How dare he look at you the way he did, thinking Santi wouldn’t notice the desire in his eyes.

“Baby, are you coming to bed or do you want to keep holding the door up?” Your sleepy voice grabs his attention as you pat the spot beside you.

He pushes off the door and pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.”I thought you were asleep.” His jeans and belt hit the floor with a thud as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I was but I could hear your thoughts in my dreams.” You sit up wrapping your arms around him. Your hands drift to his stomach, his soft abs flex under your touch as he relaxes against you. You know he wants to say something. The elephant in the room that is Frankie.

“I love you.” His voice barely above a whisper. He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your fingers.

“I love you too.”He shivers as your lips graze the faint scar traveling down his neck. A reminder of something he’s been through with you that Frankie wasn’t there for. His need for you is made all that more evident with the man he loved, loves in the room down the hall.

He shifts so fast your head is spinning as he pins you underneath him. Whatever thoughts were plaguing him before are long gone with his hands roaming underneath his shirt to graze the soft skin under your breast. His lips swallow your whine as he rolls your nipple between his fingers reveling in the way your body responds to him.

You can feel the hard press of his cock beneath his boxers as he rolls his hips into you. Searching for some kind of friction.

“I need this off.” His voice is strained as he pulls the shirt over your head.

You chuckle trying to reach for him as he shoves his boxers down, laughter dies in your throat at the sight of him. The moonlight in the room illuminates his hard cock, dark at the tip leaking precum on the sheets below.

His hands slide up your thighs as he squeezes the flesh between his fingers. His grip tightens as he cups your ass, lifting you slightly to wrap your legs around him. “Look at you…and you’re all mine.”

You’re breathless as you reach for him, pulling him into your chest.”Santi, kiss me.” You don’t have to ask him twice, your voice is like a siren song as he dips his tongue into you. He can taste the mint from your toothpaste and your cherry chapstick. Mine.

He should go slow, work you open like he always does. He drags the tip through your slick folds and a soft whimper leaves your mouth. You’re being too quiet…because of him. His hands gently press your throat as he buries himself to the hilt. A louder whine escapes you, he knows it drives you crazy as he squeezes just enough to have you panting.

“Fuck I need you, I’m sorry.” He releases your throat and starts an unrelenting pace as you quickly adjust to his size. He’s never been this desperate, not willing to make you come on his mouth or fingers first.

Your body doesn’t seem to care as the slick wet sound of your bodies and your pussy clenching with each thrust has him growling in your ear. “I want to hear you.” He wraps his arms underneath you and grips your shoulders.

“Santi…please.” You don’t want to be used for his anger and revenge but you can’t think straight with his cock ramming that spot deep inside you.

“Please what baby?” He fucks you harder as he watches your face contort in pleasure as you chant his name. He bites down on the swell of your breast and you cry out as he licks and soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Santi…I’m so close.” He knows…he can feel how close you are as your heels dig into his back, your blunt nails scratch at his scalp and you arch your body as your climax washes over you. “Come inside me please, Santi.”

Images flash in his mind of Frankie fucking you through your orgasm as you scream his name, his cock is pulsing and throbbing inside you as he fills you up. His deep ragged breaths in your ear as the aftershocks jolt through him. “I love you.” He says it over and over as he kisses your face, your mouth, your sweat soaked forehead. He’s really saying I’m sorry but those words mean the same right now.

“I love you too baby.” Your voice is wrecked from screaming, having long forgotten about your houseguest. You know this is what he wanted and a small part of you wanted it to. Santiago is yours to keep.

****

Shame washes over Frankie as he cleans his spend off his stomach with his tee shirt. He pulls his boxers up and sits on the edge of the bed staring out into the backyard.

It’s quiet now, in his post orgasmic clarity. All he has are the thoughts running through his mind. The thoughts that have plagued him since he set foot back into this house. How selfish it is to want what’s down the hall in a place he called home.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Taglist- @ghostslillady @criticalarchitecture @ael-xander @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @itsokbbygrl-library @mymo-n @lola-lola-lola @readingiskeepingmegoing

Tagging a few who might be interested:

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softiedingo · 6 months

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Frankieee my beloved 🥺💖

#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedropascal #francisco morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #this is a new old photo #but look at him #hes so beautiful #hes such a cutie #softiedingo

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lincolndjarin · 7 months

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A Little Mishap.

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day five - afab!reader x dark!francisco morales

prompt : hate sex [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.4k (sorry all of these are so short, there's so many i've been struggling to make them longer)

summary : READ ALL WARNINGS. THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC. you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, dark!frankie, unprotected p in v, spanking, use of restraints, panty gag, painful sex, degradation, orgasm denial, creampie, ambiguous ending, probably other things lmk if i forgot any tags

a/n : a lot of my october stuff is gonna be barely edited so my apologies for that but this is my first time writing frankie but also my first time writing any sort of dark fic and i'm definitely feeling anxious about posting this but here it is uhhhh yeah. i've been finishing all of these before work this week and having this tiny little time crunch before doing a ten hour shift really wakes me the fuck up lmao.

He shoves you into the tent, both of you fuming at this point. Neither one of you speaks as you take a seat on your cot, putting your head in your hands. After a moment you can see his boots appear in front of you.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He growls and you feel your jaw tense as you look up at him.

“You can’t believe me?” You say incredulously. “If it weren’t for me we’d have nothing.”

“If it weren’t for you we might have everything.” He hisses, planting a hand firmly on your shoulder as he shoves you back into the wall, you sit up quickly, kicking his knee in retaliation, watching as he slumps to the floor.

“I did exactly what Santi would have wanted me to do in that situation.” You usually don’t physical when you two fight, (which is happening more and more often these days) but today you’re fed up with him, you’d been on that mission with just him for over a week when he’d fucked up. You could have lost everything if you’d listened to him, at least now you had half the haul.

“La puta…” He grumbles, grabbing you by your ankles as you lean back to kick him again. “Os voy a dar una lección.” He mumbles, twisting your legs until you stop resisting. You swallow a squeak that threatens to bubble up from the pain, you’re about to swing on him when he pushes you back down, his hands swiftly yank your pants down making you freeze in shock. He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he drags you off the cot, knocking the wind out of you as you hit the tent floor.

“Asshole!” You yelp as he pins you down with his knees, taking both your wrists in one large hand as you squirm beneath him, trying to flip him off you.

“Fucking- quit it.” He delivers a sharp slap to your jaw promptly halting your struggle as you scowl at him. You’re about to hurl another insult at him when you hear the familiar sound of his switchblade flipping open. “Don’t move.” He mumbles as you feel the cold steel against your hip and in an instant you hear a slicing, followed by the same on the other side, you squeeze your thighs together instinctively as he pulls your panties off with ease now that the sides are torn.

“Frankie!” You shriek and he takes the opportunity to shove the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“‘Talk too damn much.” You try to kick him again as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, bringing them up as he haphazardly flips you onto your stomach, binding your hands behind your back with one of your pant legs. You’re about to spit your panties out when you feel the steel on your throat. “You keep that smart mouth of yours stuffed or I’ll find another way to shut you up.” His blade digs into your flesh as a silent warning and you don’t dare. He gives you a minute to decide what you want to do and you choose to just stay still, trying desperately to steady your breathing.

He digs his knee into your lower back one more time, eliciting a pained groan from you before slotting himself between your thighs. You’re dizzy from everything happening so fast and he doesn’t give you much of a chance to process any of it as he takes hold of your makeshift cuffs, dragging you upright as you kneel, his free hand wrapping around your waist to cup your mound.

“You know how often I think about this?” He rests his temple on yours as his chin sits on your shoulder, his body heat suffocates you.

How many times had you reluctantly thought about the same thing? Rolling to face away from him in your shared tent and shoving your hand between your legs, imagining what it would be like when he finally got sick of your shit and bent you over. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as he dips two fingers between your folds with a satisfied sigh. He slides his digits back and forth, scooping up your abundant wetness with a throaty chuckle.

“You get off on bein’ a brat?” He dangles his fingers in front of your face before rubbing your slick onto your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own arousal. “Then I’ll treat you like a brat.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head up as you feel him grind the front of his pants against your ass. “Fuckin’ soaking me.” He bends you over, forcing your ass up and pushing your face into the floor. He keeps one hand locked around your wrist as the other shoves his own pants down. You whine into the makeshift gag. “Maybe I’ll just fuck some obedience into you.”

You let out a squeak as he slaps your rear. He lets his palm rest there, before roughly spreading your cheeks. You hear him spit, followed by the sensation of it dripping down your seam, you can feel him lining himself up at your entrance, all of his actions are rushed and you just can’t keep up, your body doesn’t even have time to make an attempt at defending yourself as he rams himself into you without warning. A muffled squeal falls from your lips as he beings to fuck you mercilessly, giving you no time to adjust to the sheer size of him.

With your face pressed into the floor you can’t see him but you can certainly feel just how thick he is. The underlying pleasure does nothing to soothe the feeling of being split open by him.

“Jesus-” He grunts out, your pussy gushing around him only spurs him on, his movements somehow becoming harsher as he bumps against your g-spot with ever slam of his hips, the combines overstimulation and pain makes your eyes water, a few tears slipping past your lash line. “Dunno how I’m gonna last in such a tight cunt.” He slaps your ass again, hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll have a mark, drawing a sob from you. “Fuckin’ choking my cock when I do that.”

He spanks you again, a loud crack rings throughout the tent as your cunt involuntarily clamps down on him, his hips stuttering forward.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” His voice is low and dangerous as the rough denim of his jeans scratches at your thighs. “Is that why you keep squeezin’ me?” You don’t realize he expects a response until he smacks you again. “You love this?” You nod fervently, mumbling something similar to a yes into your panties. “You wanna finish on my cock?” Much to your own dismay you nod once more.

You don’t know how, but against all odds you really are close. The coil tightening in your stomach threatens to consume you as you try desperately to force yourself over that edge to no avail.

“That’s too bad, only good girls get to come.” He growls, readjusting himself so one hand is tangled in your hair and the other is gripping your wrists, keeping you hovering above the tent floor rather uncomfortably, your lurch forward with every one of his brutal thrusts. You groan something that sounds like his name but you know it’s useless to try and reason with him. With a few more long drawn out thrusts you feel him burst within you, his grip on your hair tightens and you shriek as his release begins dripping from your swollen cunt as he slips out of you.

Your tears are drying on your face and you slump forward once his hands release you. Your body continues to buzz with frustration, a small part of you is genuinely upset at your lack of an orgasm. You can hear the rest of your mission party returning as Frankie leans forward and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to everything he just did to you. You can hear the zipper on his pants as he pulls himself together, leaving you wrecked on the floor.

“Why don’t we see how Pope feels about your little mishap?” He whispers before you turn your head just in time to watch him lean out of the tent, calling Santiago over.

a/n : i would love any sort of feedback on this?? i've never written anything like this before so i'm a little nervous.

#lincolndjarin #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #dark!frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales

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albertasunrise · 1 year

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Oops Baby - Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your heart broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

One too many

Juggling Act

Frankie’s Girl

Broken Heart

Mary Mary…

Day by Day…

Reality Check

Back to Reality

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moonlight-prose · 7 months

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✧ ENDLESSLY ✧

a/n: i am loving everyone's reactions to the kinktober fics. it's making this so much more exciting for me to keep writing! this is the first smut fic i've done with frankie in like two years. so i'm a bit nervous it's ooc. but i hope y'all enjoy it. there's plenty more with this man coming in the near future.

day three - handjob + mirror sex | kinktober 2023

summary: "tonight you were two people exploring the twists and turns of love. what it meant to be tied to one another, to be committed so thoroughly that you felt in the depths of your heart."

word count: 1k+

pairing: frankie morales x reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, handjob, praise, a tad bit of overstimulation, mirror sex, frankie being shy.

Your clothes were long discarded in a heap on the bedroom floor, his right beside yours. That’s where they would stay until the sun streamed through the curtains. Signaling that it was time to let life shift back to what it was used to. The routine you had both grown accustomed to. But tonight…he was yours.

Tonight you were two people exploring the twists and turns of love. What it meant to be tied to one another, to be committed so thoroughly that you felt it in the depths of your heart.

Grinning, you placed a soft kiss to his shoulder, a soft moan falling from his lips when his eyes fluttered open again. Catching the position of where you were in the mirror. Frankie never liked the attention to be displayed on him; always shying away from the sight of himself in the mirror when he was sans clothes. Except you wanted to do the same thing he’d done to you so many years ago when you first got together.

You wanted to show him the beauty you saw day in and day out.

“Look at yourself honey,” you breathed against his ear, teeth scraping the shell of it as he shivered.

You had him on his knees, back pressed to your chest, your arms wrapped around his torso. If only to press your hands to his soft stomach and feel him breathe. The gentle rise and fall of his upper body as you drove him higher with just your words. There was no denying the effect you had on him. How one single touch caused him to melt into you, allowing you to take the reins whenever you wanted.

Tonight was exactly that.

“Querida—” He gasped when your hand slipped down lower, brushing along the faint trail of hair that led to where he needed you most.

His cock practically leaked for you—the tip red and swollen. Any other time you’d take him into your mouth, deep enough until he couldn’t form coherent sentences. But you needed this just as he did. The feeling of your touch, the softness of your words as you brought him to his release. Frankie had been so good to you lately. You just wanted to do the same for him.

“Baby,” you said gently, nails scraping against his skin—his stomach jumping slightly as his brown eyes locked with yours. “What do you want?”

“Want you to—” His mouth parted when your nail dragged down the length of his cock, the muscles underneath his skin taught and nearly ready to snap. “Touch me. Please. I need you to…”

He choked, his head falling forward when your hand wrapped around him entirely, tugging gently and ripping another sound from his chest. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, biting down so hard that he nearly drew blood to the surface. There was no denying how gone he was for you. How he’d allowed every wall he once built up to keep people out to come crashing down. All for you.

“So good for me baby.” You pressed your lips to his neck, thumb spreading the pearly drop of precum down his cock. “Look at how pretty you look.”

His eyes fluttered open per your request, a flush spreading through his chest. “Querida—oh fuck, oh god—”

His hips bucked into your hand trying to reach for any friction possible, desperate to chase that building feeling in his stomach. And you let him. You watched transfixed to the mirror as he took his pleasure from you—fucking himself along your palm; unabashed sounds leaving his mouth. Frankie felt like he was fucking transending the clouds in the sky—the high nearly burning his inside as he kept going. Chasing that single feeling with a fervor he’d never experienced before.

“C’mon baby,” you cooed in his ear, teeth closing around the lobe and tugging. “You want to cum all over my hand?”

He nodded frantically, his mouth parted and breaths coming in short. “Uh huh.”

“Be a good boy for me.” You stimulated him, your thumb pressing down on a spot that made his thighs shake—his body nearly folding in on itself. “And look at yourself when you cum.”

As if you held complete control over his body, his eyes flew open—head raising to meet your eyes in the mirror. A smile curved over your lips, so sweet and innocent that he nearly choked on his own spit. There you were getting him off in the filthiest manner possible and you were looking at him like that. Frankie let out a throaty moan, his eyes flickering down to his leaking cock—your thumb spreading along the head, and he felt it.

The tight feeling in his stomach that had been building for so long snapped. Your hand pressed to his chest, practically wrapping yourself around him as he let go—spurting over your hand and on the mirror. Heat flushed through his body, his mind a haze of lust and pleasure combining into one. Yet you never let go. You continued to pump him until pain began to tinge the edges of his vision—burning through him like a wildfire.

“Oh—fuck—” He jolted forward, his hand clambering down to grasp yours as something painful seared through his body. Frankie wasn’t sure if he wanted you to continue or stop altogether.

He’d let you make that choice.

“Did so good for me,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to the patchy spot on his jaw. “How do you feel baby?”

He let out a breath, his head falling against your shoulder. “Fucked.”

You laughed, sliding a hand up his stomach until you felt the familiar thump beneath his chest. “You up for a shower?”

Something flared to life in the back of his mind. A craving that came every time you focused your attention on him. He wasn’t done. Far from it. No, the night wouldn’t come to an end until he had you in his place—begging him for a release.

So he smiled, clasping his hand over yours with a smile. “Absolutely.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales smut #frankie 'catfish' morales #my writing #pedrostories #kinktober 2023

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chiriwritesstuff · 12 days

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Hometown Glory; a Frankie Morales Series Announcement!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Lawyer Reader

Series Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Series Summary: You're thriving in your career, having established yourself as a sought-after family lawyer in the bustling city. But there's a pull back to your hometown, a longing for roots and a sense of belonging that drives you to open your own firm there.

Just as you're settling into this new chapter, a blast from the past walks through your office doors. It's him—the man who unknowingly held your heart, the one you never quite got over. A face you swore you would never see again... and he's seeking your legal help for his divorce and custody battle from the girl you believed to be your best friend.

You two never officially dated, but the chemistry between you was undeniable. Yet a string of misunderstandings and missed chances kept you apart, leaving you with lingering feelings and unanswered questions.

Now, as you find yourself face-to-face with him again, old emotions resurface, along with memories of what could have been. But amidst the legal complexities of his divorce, you realize this might be the opportunity you've been waiting for—to finally address the lingering feelings between you and uncover the truth that has kept you apart for so long.

Series Warnings and Tags: Frankie and reader meet as kids, jealous best friends, reader has issues with trying to be perfect, complete misunderstandings, someone manipulates them out of being together, all of the cute flashbacks, lawyer goes from sweetheart to ice queen to back to the hometown glory, 'hes no good for you', its me and you against the world (or this town), this will be so sexy but SLOW BURN, that dreaded prom night, second chances, he's always loved her, shes always loved him, fix him fic, he shows her how to live.

Chapter 1 - Back to the Old House, coming soon!

#ok nonnie you GOT ME #fic: hometown glory #Hometown Glory #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #friends to enemies to lovers #unrequited love #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #yearning #all of the pining and yearning #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales

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morallyinept · 5 months

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12 days of XXX-MAS stories, featuring some of your favourite Pedro Boys!

Coming 14th Dec!

🖤🎄

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #christmas stories #joel miller #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #marcus pike #marcus moreno #max phillips #agent whiskey #dave york #dieter bravo #javier pena #javi peña

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joelmillers-whore · 6 months

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heaven and back

summary: an object on your nightstand inspires frankie to experiment in the bedroom and you’re all for it.

word count: 1.7K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, frankie x female!reader, no mention of y/n, smut, waxplay, bondage, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, brief degradation kink, frankie calls you a slut for like a second, breeding kink kinda?, established relationship, i don’t think i’m missing anything but let me know if i did.

a/n: i really do apologize for not posting more, i’ve been in a bad writing slump lately and the creativity is just not coming to me. but, please enjoy this little frankie fic that may or may not be self-indulgent. as always, please reblog, comment, and like to support me.

Your heart was beating to an unsteady tempo, the rhythm jarring and scattered as the organ tried to keep up with what was happening to your body. Your back arched off the bed, feverishly chasing the feeling, wanting to get closer to it— to him. But you couldn’t.

Your wrists were tied tightly to the bed posts, the rope Frankie used rubbing against the sensitive skin, igniting a want you felt so deeply that it rushed throughout your body, licking along each and every nerve ending until you were a throbbing, dripping, whining fucking mess.

Frankie was kneeling above you, the light cascading in through the window from the street below bathing the room in a soft, feathered glow. The end notes of golden hour drifted by without anyone noticing, bright orange diffusing into crystallized moonlight.

There was a slight breeze coming in from the open window, making your already stiffened nipples harder, almost to the point of pain. Goosebumps erupted along your breasts, your clavicle, your collarbone.

The pebbled skin decorated your body, the lightest of touches setting your dampened flesh ablaze. Frankie’s fingers explored everywhere the goosebumps were, groaning low when he reached your stomach, just above your belly button.

His trimmed fingernails scraped against you lightly, making you flinch, your stomach clenching from anticipation.

“It’s okay, preciosa, I’m going to take good care of you”, he said.

Your heart stopped, and changed its course, fluttering at his sweet words. You looked up at Frankie, through your lashes, watching as his gaze was already fixated on you, taking you in, naked and salacious and wanting for him.

His features were lightened by the moonlight, his face seeming younger somehow, the sheer luminescence caressing every smile line and crinkle near his eyes tenderly.

Your eyes floated down to his broad chest, his sturdy stomach, his tree trunk thighs, and finally, his stiff cock, red and angry, with pre-cum dribbling from the tip.

“Frankie...”, you moaned, wiggling your hips needily.

The dulcet smell of lavender took you by surprise, you turned your head, eyes snagging on the candle you had lit before this had all started. Frankie reached over you, plucking it from the nightstand, inspecting it. His eyes snapped to yours, an eyebrow raising in question.

“Have an idea”, Frankie said, his hand cupping the glass, rolling his wrist, letting the wax melt and congeal around the rim. “Do you trust me?”.

You nodded, squirming against the restraints, your wrists growing slack after a minute of fighting them seemed all but pointless.

“Y-yes”, you nearly shouted, arousal leaking down your thighs, gushing out of you. Frankie’s cock twitched with need.

He chuckled and your insides did a kickflip. It was filled with equal parts amusement and hunger.

“Just relax...”, he said, his voice taking on a hurried edge, clipped, like he was trying to hold himself together.

Grabbing your hip with one hand, and tilting the candle with the other, Frankie slowly started drizzling the hot liquid onto your skin. You watched him eagerly, wincing when the melted wax touched your skin, but whimpering a second later when the pain was overridden with pleasure.

“Ooooh”, you exclaimed, head thrashing back into the pillow, teeth sinking into your arm.

“Don’t...”, Frankie growled, getting your attention immediately. “I want to hear all your sounds, preciosa. Every. Single. One”.

More wax dripped onto your stomach, hardening immediately when it hit your skin, moans tumbling from your lips over and over again until you felt your stomach beginning to cramp up, your thighs shaking from the position you had been in.

“Frankie...”, you mewled, writhing against your restraints. “I want- I need to feel you”.

You bucked into his hand involuntarily, trying to get him to touch you. He only pushed your hip deeper into the bed, pining you down, all of his strength behind it.

“I don’t think so, baby...”, Frankie laughed, dripping a path of wax between your breasts, his lips inches from connecting with your skin, the gentle puff of air heightening every sensation and touch, searing into you like a brand. Marking you as his.

Placing the candle back on the nightstand, both of Frankie’s hands gripped your hips, steadying you while he slotted himself between your legs. His length rubbed up against your cunt accidentally, the feeling making your head spin.

“Fuck, Frankie”, you whined, your walls clenching around nothing. Another gush of your own arousal leaking from you. At this rate, you’d cum from that one touch alone if he didn’t hurry up and fuck you.

Teasing you, Frankie did it again, dragging out the action, torturing you. His hand was wrapped around his length, the muscles in his arm bulging, swelling as he pumped himself. His tip grazed your clit, making a moan bubble deep from your chest.

Your eyes were locked onto where his cock was spreading your lips, pre-cum mixing with your own fluids.

“Do you need this cock? Hm? Does my baby want to be stuffed full?”.

You nodded, a choked groan leaving you, “I need it, Frankie...”.

Frankie stopped moving, your eyes finding his, “And what do we say?”.

You bit your lip, the teasing driving you wild, your thighs spasming, “Please”.

You were begging at this point, keening for Frankie to stuff you full, to pump his seed so deep into you that it painted your walls white. You wanted to be leaking him for hours.

Taking his time, Frankie began to push into you, rocking his hips, the bones flush with yours as you took every inch of him, nearly bruising your wrists as you jerked against your binds.

You wrapped your legs around Frankie, your heels digging into his lower back, desperately pulling him closer to you the only way you could. Your lips quivered as you sucked in a sharp breath, the air being punched out of your lungs when Frankie thrust all the way into you, not missing a beat.

Sweat crested his brow, eyes dancing with lust, heavy-lidded— drunk with his desire for you. Frankie’s wide palms were splayed across your thighs, kneading the flesh, an attempt to stabilize himself as he lost control inside of you.

You wished that you could feel Frankie underneath your fingers, wished you could feel how his muscles tensed each time you raked your nails against his back, leaving red and raised streaks along his flesh— marks you happily kissed away after the fact.

When you were both coming down, heaving breaths expelling from your lungs, eyes twinkling with satisfaction, Frankie would pull you closer to him, practically moulding you to his body so that you were a second skin.

He would get lost in comforting you, asking you if you were okay from whatever the two of you had done. Whether it was rough or sweet, he would ask you the same thing each and every time.

But right now, there was no room for soothing words, not when Frankie was bending you to his will, rutting into you so fast and sharply that your eyes were beginning to water, your vision blurring at the edges as you focused on him, a watery image atop of you.

“Fuck...”, Frankie groaned, head low, his messy brown curls sticking to his forehead, a stray strand falling into his eyes, “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby”.

His pace didn’t let up and you didn’t want it to, your walls pulsating on instinct, making Frankie moan loudly into your ear, your stomach clenching, that familiar intense vibration radiating from the base of your spine and climbing higher.

You rapidly blinked away the tears in your eyes, concentrating, focusing only on Frankie. He grabbed the back of your knees, hiking them higher, almost folding you in two, his angle hitting deeper than you were expecting, his cock brushing your cervix. You threw your head back.

“That’s it...”, he mumbled, panting, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Take it all, like the good little slut you are”.

You let out a high-pitched whine, his words finally wearing you down, that tightly wound coil inside of you finally snapping. Your orgasm ripped through you, wetness seeping onto the sheets below.

You were in a state of total bliss, your eyes literally rolling back as Frankie continued to thrust into you, your body humming and twitching. His grip on your legs was bruising, not easing until he was through with you.

Your chest was slick with sweat, heaving as you tried to even out your breathing. You thought you’d heard him speak, muttering something incoherent.

You gulped down a breath while Frankie’s rhythm changed, taking on a hurried note, like he couldn’t control his movements any longer, couldn’t control how much he wanted to come inside of you.

“What?”, you whispered, pretty sure he had said something to you.

“I’m going to fill you up, going to have you leaking me for days...”, Frankie groaned, his body vibrating.

“Do it, Frankie”, you huffed, “Come inside of me”.

It didn’t take much more than that before Frankie stilled inside of you, his whole body spasming as he came deep inside of you. He collapsed on top of you, heaving breaths hitting the shell of your ear, the air ghosting over you gently.

“Fuck”, you panted, wheezing periodically, trying to even out your breaths. You moaned as you felt his release running a path down your ass.

“I was going to say that”, Frankie joked, his voice coming out raspier than usual.

You felt a light kiss on your shoulder, Frankie’s lips decorating your smooth skin. Your lids felt heavy as he continued tracing your neck, cheeks, and arms, making his way up your body.

He carefully untied the ropes that had been restraining you the whole time, taking your right wrist in his hand, planting a soft kiss on it, and then repeating the same action on the left.

“Are you okay, preciosa?”, Frankie asked, his eyes finding yours immediately, as he continued to rub at your delicate and nearly raw wrist, a desperate note to his tone.

You nodded and Frankie pulled your body into him. You curled up against his chest, absorbing the warmth that was radiating from him.

“I’m perfect”. Frankie grunted approvingly, stroking your head lovingly, and placed a kiss along your hairline.

“Good...”, his hand that was in your hair snaked lower and lower and before you could take in another breath, Frankie manhandled you so that you were laying on your stomach, ass up in the air. “Because I’m not done with you yet”.

#pedro pascal #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal imagine #my writing #fic rec #my fic

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iamasaddie · 7 months

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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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pimosworld · 3 months

Note

💌

Congratulations on 700 followers, yay!! And what a way to celebrate with the things you're offering!

I simply can't just *not* ask you... brat tamer Santiago Garcia, if you happen to be inspired?

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x F! Reader

Summary- You push your boyfriend just a little too far with your teasing

CW-18+, NSFW, MDNI, Brat tamer Santi, Sub reader, slight voyeurism, Overstimulation, Breath play, Rough sex, Safe word established, Use of restraints, gagging, Dacryphilia, Pet names, Unprotected PIV, Cream Pie, Aftercare

WK- 3.6K ( Drabble..who said this was a Drabble?)

A/N- This was the first ask in my follower celebration and I’ve wanted to put my all into it. Santi is so intimidating and I love writing for him.

Not beta read

Some inspiration before you read if you’re feeling so inclined. ( Santiago)

[Main Masterlist][Triple Frontier]

Cupid’s arrow

It started off innocently enough

Text image

Santi:Baby you’re killing me

Just wanted to give you a Valentines preview

It was boredom that often got you in trouble with Santiago. He said you had a knack for testing his Will power. A constant push and pull between being good and watching the moment he decides he’s had enough of your behavior.

The problem here lies that you can’t see his face via text. There was no way of knowing when the flip switched from innocent to a lesson in never pushing Santiago’s buttons.

Text image

Santi:I’m serious I’m trying to work here cariño

Fine…tell Frankie I said hi

It really was his fault…he left you to your own devices for an entire day. Of course you went shopping and saw the lacy red set that you know would drive him wild. The woman who helped you out convinced you to get a few more things and also another set in pink. But then you saw the black silk teddy with the red trim and you knew you just had to have that one.

A full photo shoot in the floor length mirror in your shared bedroom had you occupied for a little longer. And now you find yourself growing impatient as the time ticks on.

“Pope, my dog can hold a flashlight better than you.” Frankie’s muffled voice comes from under the sink as Santi discards his phone on the counter.

“Relajate hermano.” Santi’s annoyance oozed from his tone, mostly irritated at his lack of preparedness for what was supposed to be a simple ‘in fish’s words’ fix to his leaky sink.

One hour turned into four and it seemed like they had made way too many trips to the hardware store. This was clearly not going to be a quick fix and Frankie should’ve hired a plumber like he said. He knew Frankie was too stubborn for that, the pilot could fix mostly anything on his own and that sometimes led to an air of too much confidence.

Frankie leans back on his heels wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt, the backwards standard oil cap on his head a shade darker around the rim because the man is too cheap to turn on the ac.

“Your dick hard from holding that flashlight or were you staring at my ass.” Frankie chides and Santi’s flipping him off before the words even leave his mouth.

Santi can’t help the way his body reacts to you. Which is why he desperately needed you to stop sending him those photos. He could be home with you right now, undressing you piece by piece. His face buried between your thighs as he pulled countless orgasms from you until you were begging him to stop. In reality he was going to do that anyway but he’s not going to be so nice about it now that you’ve decided to be a grade A pain in his ass.

You couldn’t possibly know that he’s at his wits end between Frankie’s constant ribbing and his one too many mentions of you. He appreciated that his friend cared about his love life but Santi knew how he really felt. The too long looks at you swimming at Wills in your bikini, the hugs that lasted longer than he’d felt comfortable with but wouldn’t dare say anything to Frankie. The way you genuinely laughed at his awful jokes when you were all hanging out at the bar.

“Let me take a look, I think your eyes need a break.” Santi bumps him out of the way with his foot.

“Oh you’re an expert plumber now, but you can’t even hold a damn flashlight.” Santi shoots him a look as he breathes heavy out of his nose and Frankie concedes taking the flashlight from him.

Santi’s grumbling in a mix of English and Spanish as he takes in the mangled mess of tubes and the puddle of questionable water his arm is sitting in. Santi is suddenly aware of every sore muscle in his body as his back goes rigid. His knees ache and his head is pounding from a lack of food and water. Right now he’s seeing red as he notices the problem they’ve been dealing with all day was quite literally because Frankie had his wires crossed. He's fumbling with the tubing as his phone buzzes in succinction on the counter above him. He thinks you might be calling him but it stops after three.

“Everything alright up there Fish?” His tone slightly exasperated as he’s plunged into darkness. Evidently neither of them know how to hold a flashlight properly.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

“What!?” He groans after a loud thud that was his head hitting the underside of the sink reverberates through his body.

Frankie’s scrolling on Santi’s phone with a perverted look plastered on his face. He’s leaning against the counter completely unaware or unconcerned that Santi is staring daggers at him.

Santi snatches his phone hastily. “Get a good look?” Frankie clearly can’t read the room as he chuckles at him and this is the closest he’s been to getting punched since basic training.

“I didn’t see much.” The lie is clear as day on his face as Santi crosses his arms. “I just don’t know how you could be here with me while you’ve got that at home.” Frankie crosses his arms almost mimicking Santi and an unfamiliar noise leaves his mouth. Santi probably resembles a fire breathing dragon more than a human at this moment.

“You’re right Frank.” He clenches and unclenches his fist. “I don’t know why I’m here.” He wonders now if Frankie was in on it with you and some elaborate plan to push him to the brink of his resolve. He wouldn’t put it past either of you, always vying for who can win the award for the first place pain in the ass. Unlucky for you and lucky for Frankie that his displaced aggression now has a direction.

Santi leaves the kitchen without another word, slamming the front door a little harder than he meant but not feeling too bad about it. He’s bounding toward his Jeep with his phone clutched in his hand and a painful bulge in his jeans. He decides not to leave Frankie entirely in the dark and also not wanting to have the day be a total waste.

I fixed the problem

🐈🐠: Gracias hermano te aprecio

Santi puts the car in reverse and starts the slow roll down the driveway. His phone buzzes next to him on the seat and he aggressively puts it back in park to check.

🐈🐠: Tell her to wear the red one 🥵

Since when did his old ass figure out how to use emojis? Santi pulls up the messages he forgot you sent him. The ones Fish saw. The sweat trickles down his back as he takes in the compromising positions you’re in. One hand clutching your breast, another hand dipping beneath the deep red fabric. You’re only saving grace is that he can’t actually see that spot between your legs. The spot he knows is soaked and if Frankie had seen he’d never live it down. They’d have to share you at that point and Frankie would be none too pleased with himself.

Santi: Be in the bed with the red one on

You were starting to get worried when you sent those last three images. You hadn’t heard from him and your anxiety was getting the best of you. You knew you were constantly pushing the limits of how far you could take him, with all the trust in your relationship you assumed at this point Santiago was limitless. Sending a few racy texts was nothing compared to making him come in his pants while you palmed him under the table at your last hang out with the guys. Your punishment was relatively mild when he yanked you into the bathroom and made you clean up the evidence.

Can’t wait to see you baby 🥰

You're waiting…patiently now after you’ve changed into the one that you knew would drive him crazy.

He’s driving, barely obeying the traffic laws as he white knuckles the steering wheel. He’d already picked out your tombstone when you sent the first photo.

Here lies my Beloved baby girl- impatient, petulant, brat until the very end

****

He knows he needs to shower first, so you’ll just have to wait a little longer. He hopes for your sake you’re in the bed like he asked. You had the expert ability to do the opposite of what he wanted at every turn.

The sun is just starting to set when he enters your shared home. He can smell his favorite scent wafting through the air of one of those ridiculous wax melts you had all throughout the house. He would never tell you that he liked it so much but it seems you’ve caught on anyway. He can’t even describe what it is since it’s labeled autumn air, but it reminds him of you.

Had you been a little faster you might have gotten away with it…but he sees a flit of red and your foot just barely making it into the doorway of the bedroom.You’re lying on your stomach when he enters the room doing your best to not look out of breath with that innocent smile on your face.

“You think you’re slick?” You shake your head as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his tan skin. He throws it towards to hamper, missing it completely as he stalks towards you. He takes your jaw between his forefinger and thumb and you tilt your head up for a kiss that never comes. “I asked you a question.” His breath is hot on your face as you search his eyes for a sign of reassurance but you find none.

“I don’t…know what you’re talking about.” Your voice comes out shaky as his grip tightens on your chin. He laughs as an unmerciful look spreads across his face. You’re a mixture of terrified and aroused as you hang there in the balance, unsure of what his next move is.

He lets go of your chin and presses you back with his palm to lay against the headboard. His jaw is clenched and his lips in a tight line as he straddles your hips pinning you down with his jean clad thighs. You reach out to palm the obvious bulge in the front of his pants and he not so gently grabs your wrist. He places a soft kiss to the palm of your hand before bringing it up over your head to rest on the pillow. “That’s the last time you’re gonna act out of line.” His voice a low growl in your ear and you think you may have royally fucked up.

He sits back on his heels, trailing his hands over the soft fabric of your dress. His thumbs graze your nipple and his eyes go wide at the way your body reacts to him. He grips your hips and bunches the fabric to reveal the matching thing soaked with your arousal. If he had fangs he’d draw blood with the way he’s biting down on his lip as his fingers toy with the thin string, pulling it tight between your lips. He’s playing with you now and your antics earlier may have been seriously detrimental to your health and well being.

The material bites into your skin and you wince as he snaps the thin fabric like it’s made of floss. It’s vulgar the way he brings them to his nose inhaling your scent, his eyes roll back and your breath picks up at the carnal display before you.

He sets the torn panties down next to your head before his hands are back on you. “I take it, I bought this?” You nod once and he tsks under his breath.

“Yes.” It’s rushed out and he slaps the side of your thigh as he crowds your space. “I mean yes sir.”

“Good girl…I think it’s been too long since you’ve been taught a lesson.” You gasp as he rips the fabric. “You can’t even remember your manners.” Your gut churns at the voracious tone he’s using. The bold red dress flutters in front of you as he reduces it to shreds. His muscles flex as he pulls it taught, inspecting it to his liking. He leans over you, his soft kiss a stark contrast to his words. All you’ve wanted all day was to touch him, but you keep your hands where they are as his lips devour you. His kiss growing hungrier by the second. He pulls away breathless as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. He rolls his hips instinctively, his lust for you is almost too much. “You just need a little reminder sweetheart.”

He regained some composure as he pulled his weight back. The warmth of his body leaves you and goosebumps raise on your skin. His thumb grazes your bottom lip as he pulls down gently, coaxing your mouth open. He shoves your panties in your mouth and you can taste yourself on your tongue. You breathe deep through your nose as he waits for any sign you need this to stop. His hand grabs your wrist and the shredded fabric bringing it up to the bedpost. He was nothing if not tactical with his movements as he quickly secured both wrists with his perfectly procured gift. He gives a light tug and smirks, seemingly pleased with his work.

You squirm and whine as he swings his legs over your body and exits the bed. The drool starts down your cheek as you soak the fabric in your mouth. “Don’t worry cariño, I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

He opens the bedside drawer and fishes out your small pink vibrator, it’s been so long since you’ve used it you're not even sure it’s charged. He clicks it once and it roars to life…the opposing looks on your faces are almost cartoonish as you groan in anticipation.

He pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans as he leans over dragging the tip through your slit. Not even bothering to look at the mess he’s making. “Let’s see… how many photos did you send baby?” The sarcasm drips off his tongue as he counts each one out loud. He whistles low under his breath. “Five…I’m not sure you can handle a five.” The settings go up to six and you’re praying to whatever god is listening that he has some mercy.

You keen as it breaches your entrance almost out of breath on the first setting. He clicks it twice more and snickers at your muffled cries. “I’m gonna shower okay sweetheart. You stay right there and don’t move.” He clinks his belt and pulls down his pants before heading towards the en-suite bathroom. He sends you one last salacious look as he palms himself over his boxers. You writhe as he turns his back to you, no doubt grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

****

You want to call him every name in the book besides his god given one as you breathe through your second climax. Your legs are shaking and you wish your pussy would go numb to the constant vibrating sensation wracking your body. You tried to crawl away from it to no avail, you clenched your thighs together hoping that would give you some relief and accidentally bumped it up a notch.

Your back arches off the bed as your wrists tug at the restraints, the new angle has it hitting that spot deep inside you as you bite down hard on the soaked fabric in your mouth. You’re almost grateful for it and you think he must know what he’s doing because you’d surely have cracked a molar at this point.

He’s humming some incessant tune as the water shuts off and you try and focus on your breathing knowing it’s almost over.

He exits the bathroom, steam emanating off his sturdy body. He used a towel to run through his thick hair not covering the hefty cock dangling between his thighs. He saunters over taking his sweet ass time, slowly pulling the vibrator from your soaked folds. A lewd sound comes out of you as he pulls the fabric from your mouth. He straddles your chest this time, careful to keep his weight off you as his cock sits heavy between your breasts. You know he’s doing it on purpose, as he unties your sore wrists. He knows how much you love sucking his cock that hangs inches from your face, but you wouldn’t dare do anything now without permission. You breath out heavily, mouth watering at the sight of him as he looks down upon you. His cock jumps at the temperature change and you know that he knows what you’re doing. Quite possibly the only thing you can do in your current predicament.

“You did so good for me cariño.” He slides down your body, trailing precum along your sweat soaked skin. He wipes the drool from your mouth with his hand and purses your lips in his grasp. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Santi please…I'm sorry.” You’re reduced to begging, something he rarely denied.

“I gave you a chance to be sorry.” He wipes a stray tear that rolls down your cheek and for a brief moment he feels bad. You were just trying to show off for him after all. The shredded reminder of your little outfit is all the motivation he needs to finish what he started.

You rub your sore wrists and stretch your limbs as he grabs his phone from the bedside table. You get a nice look of his pert ass as he walks to the opposing lounge chair in your bedroom and props the phone up to his liking.

“Hands and knees baby.” He’ll always love the way you quickly obey as he works his hand over his cock and climbs in the bed behind you. He’s sure you’ve learned your lesson but now he wanted to have some fun and you were being so good.

He soothes you with his other hand as he watches your shaky breaths from behind. Your ass wiggles a little as you try to get comfortable. He can see the arousal dripping down your thighs as he drags the tip through your soaked folds. “I can’t see your face baby, so keep your eyes open.”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s my girl.” He pushes in as he grips your hips, starting a brutal pace. You’re so worked up from before as he drags in and out of your walls. Grunting behind you as the lewd sounds of the slap of skin echo in the room. He’s been so keyed up all day he knows he’s not going to last long and the way your pussy squeezes him so tight with every thrust he needs to feel you come before he loses all control. The chants of his name are like music to his ears as you grip the sheets below you, but it’s not good enough.

He wraps his arm around your chest bringing his hand to your throat as he breathes heavily into your ear. A sharp intake of breath as he squeezes slightly. “Your eyes open baby?” All you can do is nod and you hope that’s good enough. He releases it gripping your jaw to look at the camera while fucks relentlessly into you. “Whose fucking you like this…hmm.”

“You Santi.” Your voice cracks as you grasp at his arms to stay upright. He moans into your ear as you grip him tight. His breath on your neck tickles and you both chuckle slightly. A sighting of your Santi sprinkled into your intense moments.

“You tell him who you belong to.” Who? You whine as your body shakes, you’re just at the edge of the cliff all you need is that little push. He grips your hair with one hand bringing the other to rub your clit. “You know who.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I don’t I swear.” You sob, tears of ecstasy roll down your face as your fingers dig into his forearm.

“Frankie.” He growls in your ear as you fall apart in his arms. He follows you over the edge quickly after, much to your relief at the prospect of reaching your climax at the mention of his best friend.

It takes you both a moment to catch your breath, just basking in the afterglow. He kisses your shoulder asking if you’re okay. Turning your face to his when you don’t answer immediately, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. “I’m okay baby, I promise.” You sigh as he releases you, your tired body falling into the soft sheets below you.

He rubs your back for a moment before rolling out of bed to the bathroom. You have no idea what time it is, with the sun setting so early it could be six or nine and in the excitement of the day you didn’t eat or drink as much as you should have. Santi returns with a washcloth, wiping your face first and down your chest. He gently wipes both thighs and you shiver as he brushes the towel over that overworked spot between your legs. “I know it’s cold, I’m sorry.” His voice is low and calming like he’s approaching a frightened animal. The vulnerable and sweet Santi that you know and love talking you through the aftershocks.

He heads to the chair in the corner retrieving the phone you’d all but forgotten, sliding it in front of your face on the mattress.

“Why don’t you hit send for me cariño.”

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Here lies my Beloved baby girl- impatient, petulant, brat until the very end

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