#frankie morales dialogue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelscruff · 2 months

Text

one of your girls (frankie morales x triple frontier boys) 18+

a/n it's @swiftiscruff friendship exchange time!!! i'm so beyond excited to share this piece i've been working on, dedicated to my incredible friend han @swiftispunk 🌙 we brainstormed the idea for this fic months ago and it's finally somehow become something tangible - but han, if i've learned anything from writing this fic, it's how much i depend on you when it comes to so many aspects of my writing. whether it be workshopping ideas, input on characterization & dialogue, sharing snippets, etc, you are always there to lend a hand, listen, and advise. not having that this time around (because this fic has been a secret ofc!) just further proved to me what an incredibly patient, giving, caring, kind, & beautiful friend you are. i love you so much & i'm so grateful you slid in my dms one whole year ago today 💕 summary: unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk 🙌) rating: 18+ explicit warnings: circle jerk (frankie/benny/santiago/will), sub!frankie, bukkake, facials, cumplay, cum swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), praise kink galore, pet names (good boy, baby boy), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cock worship, use of restraints, sexy photographs, sharing, mentions of frankie x all the boys individually (this includes tom but he's not involved in the circle jerk - sorry tom), brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf but it's not really the main focus...for now anyway, all of this takes place before the events of triple frontier word count: 12.2k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💙

You've been moving boxes for what feels like forever, arms aching and the sun beating hot against the back of your neck as you swipe sweat from your brow and head back into the aging, disintegrating storage unit. When Frankie had first told you about it you'd been adamant that he move his old things - locked away for almost ten years now - out of the unit and into the new house. "We don't need to be paying for storage when we have a garage", you'd said confidently, "we have a house now, Frankie. What's yours is mine."

If only you'd believed him when he'd told you it wouldn't be that easy.

"I told y-" he begins for the fourth time as you lean down to grab another box, but you snap up immediately with a finger to your lips. "Why don't I just do the rest from here?" He offers fruitlessly, "You take a break, relax in the truck for a little while."

You're already shaking your head before he's finished talking, resuming your retrieval of the large box at your feet, "No, Frankie. We do this together."

You don't have to look at him to know that he's rolling his eyes. All the same, you hear him clamoring after you with another box as he follows you from the unit and back to the truck. The sun hangs high overhead and you squint uncomfortably against it, piling the box alongside the others in the truck bed. Frankie does the same.

"I mean, what's even in all of these?" you ask exasperatedly, shoving one of the many boxes with your hand and leaning backwards against the truck, "How did you accumulate this much shit in the military? I thought minimalism was all the rage over there."

"I told you, it's not just mine," he reaches forward to brush some sweaty tendrils of hair out of your eyes, "It's the whole team's shit. Well, mostly Ben and Pope's, the others were uh-" he winches, "a little more organized, I guess."

"You guess?" you push up on your hands and seat yourself precariously on the edge of the truck bed, catching your breath. Frankie watches as you tear open the nearest box, biting down on his lip to stifle a laugh when he sees your eyes widen at what's inside.

"Paperwork?" you breathe, mouth agape, "Paperwork? That's what in all these? Fucking forms?"

"Something they don't tell you when you first join," he shrugs, "But no, that's not all that's in these. There's souvenirs, journals, photos, mission plans-" he cuts himself off and stops speaking altogether, lips clamping shut. Your brow furrows as you watch him assess the open box beside you, then the others strewn haphazardly here and there inside the truck bed, as if he's only just realized something he hadn't considered before.

"What?"

He seems to shake himself from whatever stopped him, eyes still settled on the open box as he murmurs, "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"Just, uh... don't."

"Well that's not ominous in the slightest."

He laughs but something about it seems off, almost forced as he reaches forward with both hands to help you down from the truck. You follow his lead, peering up at him curiously and hoping maybe he'll elaborate, explain, but instead he turns on the spot and heads back toward the storage unit, pulling you along in tow.

You decide not to press him about it for the time being. Right now, all you can think about is finishing hauling these ridiculous boxes and devouring an iced coffee on the way home.

A week passes before you even think about the boxes again.

By that time they've been taking up residence in the garage, haphazardly placed along the concrete in unorganized disarray, exactly where you'd both left them the day you unloaded the unit. You'd been too exhausted to start unpacking and had instead collapsed on the couch, laying there with aching limbs as Frankie discarded your empty iced coffee and poured you a tall glass of water.

"Your job is done now, querida," he'd murmured softly, stroking your cheek, "I'll do the rest."

Except he hadn't. He'd pulled your feet into his lap and settled comfortably beside you on the couch, just for a moment - and then it was lights out for the both of you, boxes be damned.

Now you find yourself the following Saturday perched precariously atop your counter, fingers smeared a soft fern green as you paint the walls of your new kitchen. You only moved into this house a month ago - your first real house together; shared, owned, all that jazz. Most of that time has already been entirely dedicated to making it your own space; unpacking, decorating, furnishing, rearranging - you've been more than busy with curating this new step in both your lives.

Which is why it's not surprising that you forget about the storage unit boxes and their scatteredness in the garage, too distracted by your current ongoing tasks. You hum along to the radio as you carefully attend to the smallest crevices and spaces between the cupboards, above the stove, under the window sill. You need it to be perfect, have gone far too long living in a less than adequate apartment without much creative freedom for this house to suffer the same fate.

Of course, just as you acknowledge the desire for perfection, your hand slips. A splash of green suddenly paints the pure white window sill and your heart sinks.

"Frankie!" you call out with a groan, reaching forward to wipe the mess away and only making it worse, "Where's the white paint?"

"Should be in the garage, I think," you hear him call back from the living room, busy with his own task of painting the walls a deep maroon, "Need me to get it for you?"

"No, I got it," you slide off the counter, careful to avoid the can of green paint at your feet as you make your way to the garage. It's only when you pass the threshold off the laundry room that you finally remember the forgotten boxes, faced with them for the first time since you dropped them off.

"Dammit, Francisco," you mutter, "You said you'd take care of it."

You can't really blame him though. It really is an undertaking; you'd known that from the moment he told you about the unit to begin with. He'd wanted to keep them there, would rather continue paying the monthly fee than deal with the enormous amount of unpacking he'd have to do, but you'd pushed. Now, as you grimace at the pile of heavy boxes, you wonder if maybe he'd been right.

For now, you turn your attention to the task at hand - finding white paint. You scan the storage shelves along the walls and spot the can you're looking for on a high shelf, out of reach.

Maybe those boxes can serve a purpose today.

You shove one toward the shelf and heave another one on top, making quick work of it despite the effort. Climbing onto your makeshift stepladder, you reach for the white paint and successfully pull it to your chest, but the added weight causes your feet to dig into the box below, exposing its contents as you carefully pull yourself back down. Your eyes can't help but dart to the crushed opening, spotting what looks like a photo album peeking through.

Setting the paint down, you lower yourself onto the concrete and cross your legs, biting your lip and reaching inside the box to grab the album. It's navy blue, relatively small, lightweight. A little skim couldn't hurt.

As soon as you open the photo album you can't help but smile, met immediately with a photo of Frankie and Santiago with their arms around each other - fifteen years younger. Their eyes are alight with excitement, Frankie's cap askew and Santi's expression caught in a permanent laugh. Before, you think to yourself, this was before shit got real. You flip the page and smile wider when you see a photo of Benny and Will, caught in what must be a playful brawl with Benny's hand grabbing at Will's leg as he tries to get away. Will is grinning from ear to ear, a genuine smile you've only seen a handful of times. Yep, definitely before.

You flip through the rest of the photos with a heaviness in your heart you can't describe. You've known these boys for a handful of years, have only heard fragments of the shit they've been through together, but you know it wasn't easy, know it affected them in ways you'll never even begin to understand. Being able to see them before all that, before they became hardened and molded by pain and trauma, you can't deny the emotions that bubble in your throat.

The last page contains a group photo; Frankie is in the center, surrounded by his friends on all sides, Will and Benny turned towards him with a fond smile and a grin, Santiago with an arm around him again and his head tilted to brush against Frankie's cap, and Tom on the edge - looking a little out of place, you must admit. But then, you suppose, things haven't really changed.

You're about to close the album and return to your painting when you notice a little pocket built into the backing, hidden out of sight with a hint of white poking through. Not wanting to miss out on another good photo, you slip your finger inside and happily tug out what looks to be a polaroid, different than the others. Curiously, you flip it over.

And immediately drop it to the floor.

Suddenly you can hear Frankie's words from last week, thrumming in your mind on repeat: "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You hadn't understood. But now you think you do.

With slightly shaky fingers you reach down and pick up the polaroid, taking a breath before slowly flipping it over again. Lips parted, eyes wide, heart pounding, you peer down at the little photograph and try to understand what you're seeing.

A much younger Frankie - naked, save for the cap on his head and the pants around his ankles. On his knees, peering up at the camera with hooded eyes and a fucked-out expression you've become more than familiar with at this point in your relationship. But that's not what made you drop the photo, no.

His face is covered in cum. You know that's what it is, know there's nothing else it could possibly be. Thick trails of it paint his face like abstract art, dripping down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his chin. It's all over him, smeared along his neck and chest bloomed red with heat and arousal. His cap is askew, cheeks flushed, and - most notable of all - he's smiling. Looking up at the camera, drenched in cum, smiling.

Frankie is bisexual; you've known this since your first date, remember how shy he'd been as he'd softly murmured, "Just so you know, I like girls and guys." It hadn't bothered you at all to know that he'd been with men in the past - in fact, you'd kind of liked that about him.

So this - this doesn't bother you. You're not bothered. You're... you don't know what you are, can't seem to pinpoint exactly how you're feeling right now as peer down at the polaroid that you were probably never supposed to find. You're not bothered, you're just... surprised. And confused. What is this doing here? Why is it hidden in an album of Frankie and his friends?

....Oh.

"Find it?" you suddenly hear Frankie call from the living room, and your stomach drops. You hastily stand and slip the polaroid into your back pocket, then close the album and toss it back into the box.

"Y-yeah," you call back, "I got it!"

You try not to mention it. Try, being the operative word.

But it's all you can think about. It's all you see when you reunite with Frankie in the kitchen later that afternoon, staring at the flecks of maroon paint scattered across his face and being unable to not see smears of splattered white. It's all you see that evening as you dig into your leftover Chinese food, eyes constantly flickering across the table to watch Frankie bite and chew, lips soft and wet and definitely not leaking cum at the corners.

It's all you see that night when you settle in bed and watch as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping down his neck and chest not unlike the thick drops of release in the photo. You watch with hooded eyes, lips parted, heart thrumming, as he tugs the towel off and walks to the dresser with his pert ass on full display. You can't help but wonder if there'd been cum there too, leaking and dripping, hidden away because of the angle of the photo.

"I can feel you staring at me," he suddenly says with a chuckle, "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer." He says it in jest but you feel your face bloom with heat, immediately averting your eyes and burying yourself beneath the sheets.

"I was not," you lie, "Get over yourself."

He laughs again and you hear him shut the dresser, probably tugging on a pair of briefs, "You've been looking at me weird all day, it's kind of freaking me out."

You want to point out that "all day" is an exaggeration, but then you'd have to admit that you have been looking at him strangely for at least a portion of it, and you really don't want to do that. Instead, you reach over and turn off the lamp on your bedside table, then nuzzle into your pillow and close your eyes, ignoring him.

"Is something wrong, baby?" you hear him ask, humor slowly dissipating from his voice, "You need to talk about anything?"

"No," you lie, your own voice betraying you immediately, "I'm fine."

You feel the bed dip beside you, feel the warmth of his palm come down to gently caress your upper arm, "You sure? Did I do something to upset you?" You can practically hear him wince as soon as he says the words, "I know, I should already know if I did. But today's been busy and-"

"You didn't do anything, Frankie," you tell him softly, "I promise."

"Then what is it?" you can hear the concern, the gentle worry as he strokes your arm up and down, "Talk to me." He sounds so kind, so tender, as always. It's so damn hard to keep anything from him. You sigh.

"I feel..." you grimace, eyes still closed, "I just feel..."

He waits for you to continue, in the meantime settling into bed beside you and tugging the sheets up over himself. You feel his warmth against your body and it immediately fills you with a sense of calm, comfort. Your heart slows a bit, breaths coming a little easier as he brings his arm down to wrap around you and pull you in close.

"How do you feel, querida?" he murmurs, "Tell me."

"Guilty," you finally breathe, and you're surprised to feel tears pricking in your eyes, "I feel guilty."

You can hear the confusion in his voice, "For what?"

"I...I saw something I shouldn't have," you admit quietly, "In one of your boxes. Something really private that you probably never ever wanted me to see and I'm so sorry." You feel his arm freeze at your side and you take a shaky breath, "And now I can't stop thinking about it even though it's absolutely none of my damn business. And I wanna ask you about it but I really have no right to, not when I wasn't even supposed to know about it in the first place, and-"

"Mierda," he groans - shit.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie" you whisper pathetically, still facing away from him, "It's all my fault and if you need me to just forget about it, I will. I promise that I will."

"Fuck," he murmurs, "No no, baby, it's not your fault, it's mine. I should have unpacked all of it myself. I knew there was shit in there you might not wanna see."

"Y-you're not mad at me?"

He buries his face in your hair, nose nuzzling against your neck, "Of course I'm not mad at you - could never be mad at you for that. What's mine is yours, remember?"

You pull away to turn and face him, expression pensive. He's looking at you with earnest eyes, no anger or betrayal to be seen, and it almost makes it worse. Because does he know? Does he realize what exactly it is that you found?

"You have um..." you bite your lip, "You have pictures, in a photo album."

He stares at you, brow furrowing. "What?"

Fuck.

"There was... there was a photo album in one of the boxes. And I figured I'd just flip through it, just to have a look at you when you were younger, you know? Thought it'd be nice, that there might be something we could frame for the house."

He's looking at you like you're speaking another language, confusion lining his features, "....So?"

"So... so I found..." you wince, the image flashing behind your lids again as you try to figure out how to word it, "I found a picture that I don't think you would have wanted me to see."

He's still staring at you, the cogs turning in his head but seemingly no closer to an answer. You picture him flipping through an invisible rolodex, trying to pinpoint exactly what picture you could be talking about. You're starting to realize that maybe when he'd told you to stop looking in the boxes he'd been talking about something else.

"Honestly baby, I thought you meant you looked at some of my paperwork," he admits. Bingo. "Saw some stuff we did for a mission or something. There's plans in those boxes, strategy stuff, and you know how intense some of those were, some of the..." he takes a beat, biting his lip, "some of the things we had to do."

You shake your head quickly, "It wasn't anything like that. It wasn't...it wasn't something serious, really. It was..." you take a deep breath, still unable to say the words. Instead, you reach over into your nightstand and grab the polaroid, sitting up in bed and waiting for him to join you.

"What is it?" he asks, gentle and kind as he sits up beside you, "You can tell me, baby. We can talk about it."

Your heart races but you figure there's no going back from it now, and you're not sure you'd want to keep it from him anyway. Up until this point you and Frankie have always made communication an important part of your relationship. It's been necessary considering what he's been through, what he still deals with, and it's something that you're proud of. You're just gonna have to grin and bear it.

With a sigh, you shakily hand him the polaroid.

He flips it.

And drops it.

"Oh," he gasps, hand coming up to cover his mouth, "Oh, fuck."

"It's not- I'm not-" you stutter, fumbling over your words, "It's not a big deal, really. Like, it's whatever. I know you're bi, I know you've probably sucked your fair share of dicks-"

"Oh god," Frankie moans, his hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Oh my god."

"Hey, hey, no," you reach up and try to pull his hands away from his face, desperation in your voice, "Do not hide from me, you did nothing wrong. You hear me? There's nothing wrong with this." He groans again, shaking his head, but you just keep on talking, "I'm not mad about it or anything, it'd be pretty fucked up for me to mad about it actually. I'm just- hey," you continue to pry at his fingers, "Francisco, look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, he finally removes his hands from his eyes to peer at you. You can see the embarrassment there, the humiliation - and not the good kind, not the kind he likes.

"Hey," you whisper, "You don't have to talk about this. We can pretend I never even saw it if that's what you want," you bring his hands down and hold them tightly, squeeze them in your own, "I just... I just wanted you to know that I saw it. And that I was just a little curious about why it was in an album from your military days. That's it. That's all."

His eyes fall back to the flipped polaroid on the bed, the back of it facing the both of you. You watch as he slowly reaches forward to pick it up again with his index and middle finger, pulls it upwards and turns it around to see it again.

Out of respect for him, you don't look at it. You just watch his face, his expression. He looks.... thoughtful.

"Talk to me," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please."

He looks from the polaroid to you, then back to the polaroid. After taking a steadying breath, he places it back down onto the bed between the two of you, face up. Your eyes spot his cum-covered face again, frozen forever in time, and you quickly avert your gaze.

He notices, and gives you a small half smile. You return it tenfold.

"Well, it.." he starts, taking another breath, "It was just something that.. we just started-" he cuts himself off, smile turning to a frown as he formulates his words. "It started..."

"Hey," you breathe, reaching down to squeeze his hands again, "Take your time."

It started as a way to blow off steam - that's it. Simple, easy.

They'd all gotten to know one another during training, spent time shooting the shit and building friendships with each other. There had been such a sense of belonging, of fortified brotherhood, a pull toward one another that none of them could deny. So it was unsurprising when their teamwork and comradery resulted in their placement into a special task force, just the five of them against the world - or, rather, the enemy.

But it was stressful. Going from basic military training to special ops added a new layer of pressure and competence that they hadn't experienced before, and it was no walk in the park. Things got harder, more pressing, more important. And all they had, like always, was each other.

So it made sense one night, for Frankie anyway, to offer Santiago a blowjob.

He'd heard the stiff grunts from the bed beside him, the dry - too dry - slap of skin as Santi worked at himself beneath the thin sheet of his bunk. It wasn't abnormal for Frankie to overhear one of his buddies masturbating; in fact it would have been abnormal to not hear it. He'd gotten used to the different sounds they'd each make as they gripped their cocks, hidden away in the dark, and pumped themselves to completion. He had memorized the sounds of their breathing, the grunts and the whines, the soft moans of their orgasms.

But it was never something that was discussed. It was an unspoken rule, almost: what happens in the bunks stays in the bunks. So Frankie had never even considered crossing that line, especially because he was pretty sure he was the only one in the group who liked dudes - something everyone was only vaguely aware of.

There was something about the desperation in Santi's movements that night, in the sweat on his brow and the pained expression on his face. He'd gotten reprimanded earlier that day for failing a training mission, been yelled at by two commanding officers while the rest of the boys looked on with regret in their hearts. If one of them failed, they all felt as if they'd failed too. Santi hadn't spoken to anyone for the rest of the day, had eaten in silence and then retired to his bunk much too early. And now, hours later here he was, hand around his cock, trying to forget.

And Frankie wanted to help.

"Pope," he'd whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Santiago to hear. Santi had turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising when he realized he'd been caught in the act. He'd been about to say something, defend himself maybe, but Frankie had shook his head and continued, "Need some help?"

A look of confusion. "Help?"

Frankie's eyes had wandered to the shape of Santi's lower half beneath the sheet, then back up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," he'd murmured earnestly, "Help."

Santi had stared at him for a few seconds, brow furrowed, chest heaving. His hand was frozen under the sheet, gripping firmly to his hard cock as he'd considered Frankie's offer. Someone else might have hurled hurtful words, another might have ignored him completely.

But Santi took a deep breath and leaned back, closed his eyes and breathed, "Go ahead."

Frankie had been under the sheet in minutes.

Tucked away, hidden in case any of the other guys woke up, Frankie sucked slowly on his friend's cock. He wasn't sure how much Santi wanted to see of him, figured maybe he'd have his eyes closed as he pictured someone else, maybe that girl he liked from back home, but it didn't matter to Frankie - what mattered most was helping his friend forget about the shitty day he'd had. He treated Santi's cock like something to be worshipped, swallowing and licking around the big shape of him, warm and thick in his mouth. And when Santi came, it was only moments after Frankie had started.

His hands came down to grip Frankie's curls, tugging and pulling as he'd groaned and spilled down his friend's throat. And Frankie had swallowed every drop.

"Francisco," Santi had murmured when Frankie pulled off his cock with a pop, a drop of cum leaking from the corner of his mouth as he peered up at Santi from beneath the sheet, "You've been holding out on me."

With a smile, Frankie had licked the cum away and placed a gentle, reverent kiss to the wet head of Santi's cock. Santi had watched with hooded eyes, let Frankie kiss him there a few more times, let him trail his nose along his thick shaft and inhale deeply at the base. Hands still carding through his hair, Santi had let him mouth at his cock for a few more minutes before softly telling him he should get back in his bunk.

"Just trying to savor it," Frankie had whispered, voice a little sad, a little broken.

"You'll do it again," Santi had replied, reveling in the way Frankie's eyes widened, a smile lighting up his face.

And he did do it again - the following night. He'd been a little hesitant, unsure if Santiago had really meant what he said. But after the others had fallen asleep and Frankie was still just lying there, waiting, he'd heard a soft pssst sound. He'd looked over to see Santi sitting up in bed with a smirk on his face and one hand already beneath the sheet, tugging at his dick.

He stuffed his mouth with Santi's cock every night that week. It was almost feral the way he drank him down, eyes rolling as his lips kissed Santi's pubic hair and his tongue laved the shaft of his cock up and down, up and down. Drool cascaded from his lips all over his friend's belly, and he whined softly over and over whenever his curls were tugged, his temples stroked. Santi would talk to him softly, murmur the quietest little praises that made Frankie insane with need. That's it, there you go. You take what you need, Francisco. And then he'd come down his throat, fill his stomach with it, and whisper, "Good boy."

It was filthy, but it wasn't wrong. Not one part of it felt wrong. And Santiago never once made him feel like it was a shameful secret they were keeping, like the others finding out would be the end of the world. And it's good that he'd maintained that stance, because soon enough, Benny was in on it too. They should have seen it coming, considering his bunk was directly above Santi's.

"Can you give me one, maybe?" he'd asked Frankie awkwardly one night, voice quiet and slightly nervous as he leaned over the bars of the bunk bed, "I've been... I've been listening to it every night and it's driving me fuckin' crazy that I don't know what it feels like."

"Are you saying you've never had a blowjob, Ben?"

Benny had rolled his eyes, "Of course I've had a fuckin' blowjob, idiot. I've just never had a... a you know..." he'd shrugged, "A Frankie blowjob."

"It's good," Santi had said nonchalantly, tugging off his shirt and climbing into his bunk, "He's fucking incredible, actually."

Frankie had preened at the praise, cheeks reddening. An hour later he'd climbed up into Benny's bunk and deepthroated his cock for a solid fifteen minutes. Benny was breathless, chest blooming with heat as he watched Frankie suck and drool, gagging every so often but immediately resuming his sloppy ministrations as soon as he'd caught his breath.

"Look at that," Benny had marveled softly, "Look at that."

"I told you," they'd both heard Santi whisper from below, "He's a fucking godsend."

"I'm gonna cum down your fuckin' throat, Frankie," Benny had groaned, and no sooner were the words out that he was following through, spurting slow and steady into Frankie's mouth. He gripped the back of his head, watched Frankie swallow, and then whispered, "Good boy". Oh, he really had been listening.

Sated and warm with wet and sticky briefs, Frankie had climbed back into bed with a new appreciation for Benny.

As if two wasn't enough, Will got involved shortly after that. Of course Benny had unsurprisingly spilled the beans to his brother, which lead to Frankie climbing atop his own bunk one night to join Will, who'd been a bit unsure. It was as if he thought a prank was being pulled on him, like it was all bullshit, but he didn't say no.

"Been wonderin' what you three were gettin' up to," he'd muttered, watching Frankie a bit dubiously, brow furrowed, arms crossed, "Ben says you're, uh... good."

"I'm good," Frankie had promised softly, bringing his hands down to tug at Will's boxers, "Promise."

Will had watched as Frankie brought his already hardening cock out of his underwear, kissed the tip gently and then brought it into his mouth. "Oh fuck," he'd heard Will gasp out, immediately reaching up to cup the back of Frankie's head. And then there were three.

But three stayed three. Tom did find out about it, considering every single night somebody seemed to be getting their dick sucked. Any discreetness had gone out the window, especially when two of them would jack themselves off to the sounds of Frankie slurping and sucking, groans and the heavy slap of skin echoing throughout the large room. But despite the knowledge of what his friends were doing, the leader of the group was seemingly disinterested in having a go with Frankie.

There was one disastrous evening wherein the others managed to convince Tom to give it a shot. But Frankie bobbed on his cock for a solid five minutes before realizing he just wasn't getting him hard, and Tom had pushed him away and turned in bed with a low sigh.

"It's just not for me, Fish," he'd muttered, "Pretend it never happened."

"He doesn't know what he's missing," Santi had murmured ten minutes later as he watched Frankie suckle on the leaking tip of his cock, "Huh, Francisco? Doesn't know you've got the mouth of an angel, huh?"

Frankie had continued to suck, eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out as Santi stroked his hair.

Things were easier for a while after that. The training was strenuous, oftentimes near impossible, but there was always pleasure at the end of it, always something to look forward to. Every night Frankie would take up residence in someone's bunk, usually after a quick game of rock paper scissors or a straw draw. Each of his friends were different in their own way, and Frankie took a lot of joy in being able to have those moments with them, be what they needed. It felt like he was floating, dreaming; he'd never realized how badly he wanted to be submissive like this until it actually happened. Being their shared prize, their plaything, it was fucking incredible.

Sometimes he'd have all three in one night. He'd deepthroat Benny's cock and swallow him down, then stagger to Will's bunk and do the same. With his own erection aching in his underwear he'd finally crawl in with Santi and allow his closest friend to pull down his briefs and notch the head of his cock into his ass. Santi was the only one who fucked him, the only one who held him close afterwards and sometimes fell asleep with him.

"You my good boy, Francisco?" he'd murmur in Frankie's ear as he fucked him slow and deep, fingers digging into his hips beneath the sheets, "You like feelin' that cock in your ass?"

And god, did he ever.

The first real mission was brutal.

It was tame compared to the things they'd eventually do, but for what it was, they were stressed out of their minds. They spent weeks planning, training, preparing. They'd find themselves so tired at the end of the day that their nighttime habits became a thing of the past, if not something that only happened once in a blue moon. And in its own way the lack of it had begun to affect everything else, their comradery, their abilities, their drive. The day before the mission was set to begin, Benny stood up at dinner and proclaimed, "We've gotta get our shit together."

"Sit down, our shit is together," Tom grumbled, "We're gonna be fine."

"We are not gonna be fine," Benny argued, expression genuinely fearful, "We're gonna fail the whole fuckin' thing and then we're out on our asses."

"There's truth to that, you know there is," Will pointed out as he pulled Benny back down, "There's somethin' missing here. We're not on our A game."

"What, 'cause Morales isn't getting sucked and fucked?"

Frankie's head had gone up, ears tinging pink as he looked over at Tom along with everybody else. There had been a beat of silence, and then-

"Nobody said that," Santi had stated calmly, "And don't be a dick."

"I'm not being a dick. It's fine what you all get up to in your own time, whatever. But it's not the be-all and end-all of our fucking team," he'd shrugged and looked at Santi with a frown, "I mean, come on, Pope. We're prepared, with or without the extracurriculars."

"We are," Santiago had agreed with a nod, turning to Benny, "It's gonna be fine, man. The nerves are just kicking in now but that's normal. We've trained for this, we're ready."

But Frankie could tell he wasn't being entirely truthful.

That night, despite the tiredness of the last day of training and the anxiety of what was to come - Frankie found a solution. He told Santi first, whispered it to him in his bunk and grinned at the expression on his friend's face, awestruck and aroused all at once.

"You're sure?" Santi asked him quietly.

"I'm sure. I think it'll help us de-stress."

Santi had leaned forward and tilted Frankie's cap up, pressed a firm kiss to his forehead and murmured, "Me sigues sorprendiendo, Francisco." You continue to surprise me.

A moment later he was climbing the ladder of Santi's bunk, coming face to face with Benny. "You wanna do something kinky?"

The younger man's eyebrow raised, "Kinkier than usual?"

"A blowjob is not kinky, Ben."

"Getting one from a guy is."

Frankie rolled his eyes and went to pull himself back down the ladder but Benny stopped him, reaching out to touch his wrist.

"What'd you have in mind?"

And that's how he'd ended up on his knees.

Will and Benny stood on either side of Santiago, all three men looking down at their submissive friend with unbridled arousal in their expressions, dark and anticipatory. There was silence at first, not necessarily awkward but full of a definite tension that was more than palpable.

Until-

"Tie him up," Santi murmured to Benny. Frankie's eyes went hooded almost immediately, lips parting as he peered up at his friends and felt his heart pound at the thought of what Santi was asking.

"How so?"

"His hands," Santi clarified, "There's some string in the first aid kit, tie his hands behind his back so he can't touch himself."

Benny followed his orders without question, heading toward the bathroom to grab the kit while Will gave Santiago a confused look. "Why can't he touch himself?"

Santi smiled, tilting his head a bit and peering down at Frankie's already debauched form. He walked forward and kneeled down in front of him, levelling with him as he reached for his waistband.

"'Cause he likes it," Santi murmured, "Haven't you noticed something about Frankie in all the months we've been doing this?" As he spoke he pulled down Frankie's pants to his knees, exposing his bare thighs to the room. He was already hard, the long shape of his cock protruding from his black briefs. "He doesn't touch himself," he continued softly, stroking his thumb gently against the V of Frankie's hips, "He always comes in his pants when he sucks our dicks."

Hearing the words aloud, stated so matter-of-factly, Frankie realized in that moment how fucking well Santiago had come to know him. Not once had Frankie voiced this, told him anything about what he really liked, what he craved. And yet here he was, having his desires told directly to him, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"And when he gets fucked," Santi continued, fingers trailing downward to ever so gently cup Frankie's cock, "He only lets me touch it. Ain't that right, Francisco?"

Frankie nodded slowly, a lump forming in his throat.

"Why?" Will asked again - always wanting clarification, an explanation.

"'Cause it feels good, doesn't it, Frankie?" Santi cooed, releasing Frankie's bulge and bringing his hand up to place a finger under his chin, "Feels so good to come untouched, huh? Feels good to let go when you've got a dick in your mouth, to fall asleep with your underwear all wet and your cock all sticky?"

Frankie nodded again, cheeks blooming pink. He felt someone behind him pick up his hands, start tying them together - Benny.

"Come to think of it, I've never seen his cock," Benny admitted, voice already rough with anticipation, "I mean... I guess I had other things on my mind."

"He's got a fucking great cock," Santi murmured, "Why don't you show 'em, Francisco? Let 'em see what you've been hiding under here, huh?" His finger dug into the band of Frankie's briefs, and all Frankie could do was nod again, unable to speak with the way his thoughts had begun to melt away, brain going fuzzy.

Benny finished tying his hands and walked in front of him again to stand alongside Santi, eyebrows going up when he watched Frankie's cock be freed from the confines of his underwear. It stood at attention immediately, long and hard, pink and flushed at the tip. It smacked wetly against his belly, balls hanging heavy and full as Santi pulled his briefs down entirely.

"Now look at that pretty cock," Santi breathed, almost just for Frankie alone, "Look how it's dripping."

And it was dripping, already pulsing and bobbing against his belly button with every rise and fall of his chest. The three men watched in silence for a moment as Frankie took deep breaths, his cock twitching and stuttering in front of them without being touched, simply exposed to the cool air of the room and their interested gazes.

"I kinda wanna...." Benny started to say, but trailed off, blushing a bit as he took a step away from his brother.

"I'll stay between you," Santi offered quickly, "Pull 'em out, it's fine."

There was no more hesitation after that. Frankie watched under his lashes as his three friends reached into their pajama pants and pulled out their cocks. Will was still mostly soft, though you could tell he was starting to harden with the sudden gravity of the situation. Benny was already stiff and leaking as he fisted his own, and Santiago's hung heavy and thick between his legs as he carefully circled the head with his thumb.

"We're gonna come all over your face, Frank," Benny told him quietly as he jerked his cock slowly up and down, "You know that, right? You're sure you're cool with that?"

It was like he was underwater, still unable to speak; he hadn't said one word since he'd gotten on his knees. It was as if the submissive part of him had taken over completely, mind going blank.

"Say yes or no, Fish," Will said, voice strained as he squeezed himself gently, "Wanna hear it."

"Yes," Frankie had finally managed to whimper, knees trembling against the cold floor, "Yes, please."

Santi grinned, "Well boys, I think we got our answer," He tilted his head again to eye Frankie from where he stood, "Let's get a little closer, shall we? I think he wants us up close and personal."

Within a few seconds Frankie was suddenly face to face with three cocks - it was like fucking Christmas morning. His mouth popped open and drool immediately began to collect in the corners of his mouth, eyes trailing back and forth to look at absolutely everything he could. He stared at the weeping tips, the fat heads, the thick shafts where his friends pumped and fisted. Without any thoughts in his brain he opened his mouth and laid his tongue flat against his lower lip, staring at Benny's cock - arguably the biggest - with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, you wanna suck on it, don't you?" Benny asked, a smile in his voice, "You go ahead, Fish. Suck that cock."

He did not need telling twice. His lips wrapped around the pink mushroom head of Benny's cock and his eyes rolled back as he began to suck, tongue lapping at the tip and devouring everything it had to offer. God he loved having his mouth full, loved hearing Benny's groans as he pushed his head forward and enveloped more and more of the cock in front of him, began to slide his lips up and down the shaft and cover it in his saliva.

"So pretty with a cock in your throat, Francisco," Santi told him, voice full of praise as he watched Frankie sink down even further on Benny's cock, 'til his nose was buried in his pubic hair. "Tell him how pretty he is, Benny. He wants to hear it."

Frankie anticipated some hesitance, maybe even a sarcastic comment, but Benny did no such thing. Instead, Benny's hand came up to cup the back of Frankie's head, holding him still on his cock as he breathed, "You're so pretty, Frankie."

A high keen of a whine made it's way from Frankie's throat, vibrated around the cock in his mouth. Benny trembled a bit, tangling his fingers in his hair and helping him bob a few more times before pulling him off completely. Frankie gasped for breath, tears in his eyes as he stared up at his friends.

"Your turn," Santi murmured quietly to Will, "Stuff him full."

"He fuckin' loves being stuffed," Will replied with a low chuckle, yanking Frankie forward by his hair and shoving his now fully hard cock into his mouth. It was the kind of rough Frankie was already well acquainted with when it came to Will, and he welcomed it with gratitude. He closed his eyes and allowed Will's cock to sink into his mouth like Benny's had, then swallowed around it, tightening the walls of his throat and gagging around the large intrusion.

"Yeah, choke on it, baby," Will muttered, gripping both sides of Frankie's head with a groan, "Baby boy."

Baby boy. That was a new one, especially from Will, but Frankie certainly wasn't complaining. He swallowed around him again, feeling his own cock bob against his stomach as he continued to worship Will's dick. There was only so much of the sensation that Will could take, and before long he too was pulling out of Frankie's mouth and resuming his slow strokes, breathing heavily.

"M'your baby boy," Frankie murmured to the three of them, Will's words still echoing in his mind. His voice was already completely shot, rough and scratchy from the two large cocks that had invaded his throat.

"You are," Santiago cooed, leaning forward to gently tap the head of his own cock against Frankie's bottom lip, "You're our baby boy, Frankie. Our good, pretty, perfect boy, huh?"

Yes, Frankie wanted to whisper, it's all I am. It's all I wanna be. But his mouth was already being filled a third time, this time by Santi's cock - the thickest of the three. His vision blurred with tears as it stretched his lips, the masculine taste dripping on the back of his tongue and down his throat. He'd had Santi's cock in his mouth the most out of everyone's; had fallen asleep a few times suckling on the tip of it while Santi murmured praise, like a comfort, a constant.

He knew exactly what Santi liked, what he didn't, how to tease him, how to get him there. Immediately, Frankie curled his tongue around the wide head, dipped the tip of it into Santi's slit and carefully fucked it in and out while suctioning the rest. He kept his eyes open this time even though they burned with tears, allowing himself to meet Santiago's gaze just how he knew he liked it.

"Oh, good boy," Santi praised softly, thumbing Frankie's cheeks and letting the head of his cock sit just inside the wet heat of his mouth, "Suckin' on that cock like it's my thumb, huh? Just how you like it?"

Now that was something unbeknownst to Benny and Will. They knew Santi liked to fuck Frankie sometimes, but they didn't know much about the logistics, the positioning, the way it worked. More often than not, Frankie would suck on Santi's thumb when he was being fucked, liked the feeling of having both his holes full at the same time. It felt complete somehow, safe. God, what would it feel like now if Santi were to fuck him and let Benny or Will fuck his throat? What would it feel like to be truly filled up like that, the way he'd always imagined? His cock twitched against his belly again, still untouched, still pulsing, and he moaned around Santi's cock.

"I think our baby boy needs a little break," Santi murmured softly, "Shh, it's okay, Frankie, it's alright," he slowly pulled his cock from Frankie's lips and allowed him to catch his breath, chest heaving. He felt multiple hands petting his hair, stroking his cheeks, thumbing his temples. Someone brushed one of his nipples, pinched it ever so gently and then did the same to the other one.

"Sweet little things," Will murmured, and that answered that.

"He really is a fucking godsend, Pope," Benny breathed, disbelief and awe playing at the edge of his voice, "Softest mouth I've ever felt."

"His eyes are what get me," Santi replied, and Frankie felt him take his cap off and toss it to the side, then a pair of lips kiss his forehead, "He's got the prettiest brown eyes, look so beautiful when he's got that wet mouth all full."

The way they talked about him, like he wasn't even there, like he was just a toy, something to play with, an object - it was so much. It was too much. He leaned back on his haunches and whimpered, eyes fluttering open as he looked up at his friends, still standing in front of him with their now very wet cocks in their hands.

"Put them on my face," he begged, voice broken and haggard, "All of them, please."

"Fuck," Benny gasped out, and without hesitation he placed the entire length of his cock along Frankie's cheek and forehead, tapping it a few times and hissing, "There you go. There it is, baby boy."

"You go around the other side," Santi told Will, knowing he wouldn't want to touch Benny's cock, "Put yours upside down on his other cheek, I'll go middle."

Benny was still slapping Frankie's face gently with his cock, hissing and groaning out words of praise. Santi slapped his own down across the center of his face, along his nose and lips. His cock settled up against Benny's, and for the shortest of seconds Frankie noted that they rubbed them together without speaking, without looking at each other. Will joined them on the other side, his balls hanging low on Frankie's forehead and his tip jutting out near his chin. Three cocks, side by side, covering their friend's entire face.

"Slap him with them, he likes that," Benny said through gritted teeth, doing it again and again and reveling in the whimpers and whines Frankie was making below them, "Ohhh, he fuckin' loves that."

"I don't think I can last," Will spit, voice more strained than it had been before, "This is too much, I'm gonna blow my whole fuckin' load any minute now."

"No one's stopping you," Santi encouraged, "Doesn't matter when we come, what matters is we do it all over his face. Cover him with it."

"Oh, he's gonna be fuckin' drenched," Benny groaned, eyes closing as he stilled his slapping movements to hold back his own orgasm. His voice was wild now, desperate, "I wanna come in his mouth, I call dibs."

"You hear that, Frankie, baby?" Santi murmured with a sly smile, "Benny called dibs on filling your mouth."

Frankie wouldn't have responded even if he could, just let out another whimpering moan and dropped his jaw, lolled his tongue out so his friends could take turns tapping the heads of their cocks against it. He was covered in precum, felt it dribbling down his chin and forehead, collecting behind his teeth and dripping down the back of his throat.

"Let him suck," Will hissed, "Let him suck mine one more time." At his words, Benny and Santi moved out of the way as best they could, Santi tapping Frankie's eyelid with his cock while Benny smeared more precum into his forehead. They watched as Frankie carefully suckled Will's tip into his mouth, closed his lips around him and hummed.

"Put it in your throat, baby boy," Will told him firmly, "Swallow around it, there you go. Thaaat's a good boy."

Gurgling sounds were coming from Frankie's gag reflex but he didn't stop or pull away, kept doing exactly what he knew Will needed as he swallowed him down. It took barely any time at all for it to be too much for Will to handle, and before any of them knew it he was pulling out and pumping his cock furiously over Frankie's face. Benny and Santi stepped back - they all knew what was coming.

"Don't come in his mouth, I called dibs," Benny warned, and Frankie could have sworn he heard Santiago chuckle.

"Keep your eyes closed, Fish," Will muttered, directly in front of him now as the wet sounds of his fist slipping up and down his cock filled the room, "Gonna paint that pretty little face and those sweet little nipples."

Franke whimpered, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to listen to what was going on around him. He could hear Santi and Benny still jerking themselves a few steps away, but Will's grunts and groans were the most prominent, the most present. And only a few seconds later he felt the first splash of cum hit his face - his left cheek.

"There it is," Santi egged Will on, "There he goes."

Another rope of cum landed on his forehead, dripped down onto his eyebrow. Then another on his chin. He listened as Will let out one more groan, still pumping his cock as he aimed at Frankie's bare chest. He felt two more spurts trickle down both of his nipples, sensitive and hard, and that was it.

"Fuck," Will groaned, satisfaction plain as day in his voice, "Fuck, Frankie."

He opened his eyes and was met with Will's cock, tight in his fist. Without hesitation he leaned forward and brought the tip gently into his mouth, licking off the excess cum as Will brought his hand down to play with Frankie's curls. He sucked for a few seconds, placed a soft kiss to the tip - his favorite spot - and then looked up to meet Will's gaze, a dazed little smile playing on his lips.

"Give it one more little kiss, baby boy," Will murmured, "Just one more." Frankie did as he was told, eyelashes fluttering as he kissed the sticky tip once more, and then Will was backing up to let Santi and Benny back into their spots.

"You're a good boy, Fish," he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants. "Mind if I watch the rest?"

"Please stay," Frankie managed to breathe, and the movement of his face caused some of the cum in his eyebrow to trickle downwards, dipping into the crevice of his nose. Will smiled and nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall to observe.

"Won't be much longer now, Francisco," Santi told him softly, shuffling forward to carefully fill Frankie's mouth again with his dick. He watched with fascination as Frankie slowly bobbed on it, like muscle memory as he breathed evenly through his nose. "M'close. I think Benny's close too."

"You look so fuckin' good with all that cum on your face," Benny told him, voice almost pained, "Gonna look even better with more."

Surprisingly, Frankie pulled off Santi's dick without being told to do so and peered over at Benny with hunger in his eyes, "Can you... can I..." he cut himself off, going bright red as he looked back to Santi for reassurance.

"What is it, baby?" Santi asked softly, brow furrowing, "You good? You need to take a break?"

Frankie shook his head quickly, "N-no, I just...I..." he bit his lip and hoped his sudden idea wasn't about to be shot down, "Can you put them both in at the same time?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Fuck," Benny groaned, "Fuck, that's hot." There was no doubt in Frankie's mind now that Benny had quite liked having his dick so close to Santi's, so it made him grin when Benny moved forward to stand beside his friend and jut his cock out toward Frankie's mouth.

"Open up, Fish."

Dropping his jaw once again and staring wide eyed up at his teammates, cum still fresh and sticky all over his face, Frankie allowed Benny and Santi to slide both their cocks into his waiting mouth. The feeling was insane. The taste was insane. All masculine and heady and musky and wet, the smell of sweat and raw sex invading his nostrils as they both pushed their dicks further in alongside each other. Frankie felt two hands in his hair, one of Santi's and one of Benny's, holding him still.

"Oh fuck, I need a picture of this," Benny groaned, blinking furiously as he peered down at where he and Santi's dicks jutted out from Frankie's mouth. "Will, grab Pope's camera, I'm serious. I need to remember this."

As Will made his way to the bunks, Frankie continued to blink slowly and languidly, tongue almost lazily swirling along the fat heads of the two big cocks in his mouth. They were dripping everywhere, warm and sticky, layering the back of his tongue with all of their arousal. And he was so fucking overwhelmed.

"Two cocks," Santi breathed, thumbing a bit of Will's cum that had begun to dry on Frankie's cheek, "Two fat cocks for Frankie, huh?"

"Look at how his lips stretch," Benny added, pushing his cock in the tiniest bit further to watch how Frankie's mouth adjusted to the size, "S'like he was made for it."

"He was made for it," Santi agreed softly, pushing some hair out of Frankie's face and tucking it behind his ear, "Huh, Francisco? Were you made for this?"

Another slow blink and an even slower nod, careful not to dislodge the appendages in his mouth. Benny assessed the door Will had left through and then hesitated for a moment before turning to Santi and whispering, "You feel good, Pope," under his breath.

"So do you," Santi replied with a smile, "Y'got a nice dick."

Benny seemed a bit flustered, avoiding Santiago's gaze as he muttered, "Thanks."

Will rejoined them a few seconds later, Santiago's polaroid camera in hand. Frankie watched with pleasure as Will brought the camera over his head and faced it downwards, preparing the shot.

"Chipmunk cheeks," Will murmured fondly, snapping the picture with a smile, "This'll do great for the annual Christmas card, huh boys?" It was a joke of course; they all knew that what was happening right would more than likely never leave the base, but Santi and Benny laughed nonetheless, pushing their cocks just a little bit more into Frankie's mouth.

"He's full," Benny murmured, "All filled up."

"Not entirely," Santi chuckled, "But close enough."

Their teasing words, their smiles and their laughs, it was making Frankie crazy. His untouched cock was still bobbing on its own accord, twitching and dripping as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. He was going to come soon, he just knew it, and the thought alone made him whine around his friend's dicks, his eyes rolling back.

"Shh, it's okay, Francisco," Santi reassured him softly, "Just give us one more minute to enjoy this, okay? Will's gonna take a few more pictures. You just stay still and keep suckin' on those cocks."

"You got this, Fish," Benny murmured, "You can do it, you're a good boy."

I am, Frankie thought to himself as he closed his eyes and heard the snap of another photo, I am a good boy.

Will took two more pictures with the camera so they'd each have one, tugging the polaroids out as they developed and waving them in the air. This was better than any porno magazine they'd ever be able to stow away, something real and raw, perfect spank bank material.

"I want the first one, where his eyes are open," Santi told Will when he was done, "Calling dibs."

"You got it."

Finally, Benny and Santi pulled themselves slowly out of Frankie's mouth, leaving him nothing but a drooling, lightheaded mess on his knees in front of them. He gasped for breath, head going down as he coughed and spluttered. He felt Will's hands patting his back, helping him through it as his chest heaved.

"Gonna come all over that pretty face, Fish," he heard Benny groan, "Open that mouth again, gonna fill it up."

With all the strength he could muster, Frankie tilted his head up and shakily opened his mouth again. His jaw was sore and aching but he knew he could last a little longer, knew he could give his friends what they needed before he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He watched as Benny jerked his cock in front of his face, watched the way his precum bubbled and spilled at the tip before being replaced with ropes and ropes of hot cum. If Benny was known for anything when it came to their little extracurriculars, it was certainly the ridiculous amount of spend he was able to produce.

"Right in the back of his fuckin' throat," he groaned, watching as it spurted into Frankie's open mouth, "Knew I had perfect aim." He redirected the head of his cock to further paint more of Frankie's face, covering him with thick white all over his cheeks and lips. "Don't swallow it, Fish," he managed to moan out, "Keep aaaall of it in there for me like the good boy you are."

A few more spurts along his neck and chest, one more in his mouth, and then Benny was tapping the head of his cock against Frankie's tongue again, watching as the last few drops spilled out onto it. Frankie peered up at him with heavy lids, a low moan emitting from the back of his throat.

"Yeah," Benny breathed, tapping his tongue again, "That's for you, s'all for you." He pulled his cock out and took a step back, nodding toward Santi, "Go ahead, man. I think he's spent."

"He'll be okay," Santi said softly, shuffling in front of Frankie again and pressing the sticky tip of his cock to the corner of his cum-filled mouth, "Huh, baby? Can you last a little longer? Just a few more minutes for me?" Frankie nodded and he smiled, "Open wide, baby boy."

"Come on, I don't want him to swallow it yet," Benny said a little exasperatedly as Santi slipped the head of his cock past Frankie's lips, the tiniest bit of Benny's cum dribbling from the left corner of his mouth.

"He won't swallow," Santi murmured, "He's just gonna get my dick a little wet." He looked up to share a knowing look with Benny, like a little secret between them, and Benny turned bright red.

At his words, Frankie swirled Benny's cum around the head of Santi's cock, coating it in the salty substance. He gazed up into Santi's eyes as he did it, almost like he was silently whispering to him, pleading; I'm ready now, I'm ready for you to give it to me.

"Okay, Francisco," Santi whispered, just for him, "Lo has hecho tan bien." You've done so well.

He pulled out of Frankie with a pornographic squelching sound and began to work Benny's cum and Frankie's saliva up and down the length of his cock, still staring directly into Frankie's deep brown eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip, brows furrowing as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge.

"Ask for it," he said quietly, edged with something unhinged.

"Please," Frankie breathed, voice garbled and muffled by the cum in his mouth and the ache in his throat, "Please come on me, Santi."

And that was enough.

"Mierda," Santi groaned out, stomach tensing as his thick cock twitched in his grasp. Frankie didn't close his eyes this time, kept them locked onto Santi's as cum drenched his face. It splashed along his cheek and nose in short bursts, dripped down his neck and collected in the corners of his mouth. Without being able to help it, he popped his mouth open one final time to allow Santi to add more cum to the cocktail on his tongue.

"Christ," Will muttered a few steps away, "Would ya look at that?"

"This," Benny sighed, a smile in his voice, "This is what we needed. Fuck Redfly, man."

In any other circumstance Santiago probably would have smacked Benny on the back of the head for disrespecting the team leader, but he was a little more than preoccupied at the moment. He was still staring down into Frankie's eyes, lost in a daze as Frankie tugged him back into his mouth with his tongue and sucked the last remaining spurt of cum from the tip of his cock.

"C'mere, watch him swallow," Santi gestured for the others to join him, and they all resumed their positions in front of Frankie with heavy lidded eyes as they watched him suck.

"Show us first," Benny murmured, "Come on, Fish, show us what's in your mouth, huh?"

Releasing Santi's cock with a pop, Frankie carefully opened his mouth to show his friends the pool of cum swirling on his tongue, dripping down into the soft pockets of his cheeks. Practically in awe, they all stared as he played with it, twisted his tongue back and forth and moving the thick globs of cum from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Swallow," Santi whispered, and Frankie obeyed.

It felt like heaven going down his throat, thick and warm. His eyes rolled a little, tongue darting behind his teeth to lick any that he'd missed, swallowing again and then dropping his jaw to show them his clean tongue, mouth empty.

"Good boy."

They stood there in silence for a moment, almost in reverence. Frankie was a mess, covered in three thick loads of spend and still on his knees with his cock bobbing against his stomach. He was so aroused it was almost painful, the head of his cock pulsing along with his heartbeat as he waited for an order, a command. He whined a little, waiting for someone to do something.

"Untie him," Santi finally told Benny with a smirk, "I think he's ready now."

Ready was an understatement. So much of an understatement in fact that Benny had barely brushed against Frankie's hands to untie the string when Frankie was suddenly letting out the loudest moan of the night, high and unbridled and full of pleasured desperation. Benny practically ripped the string from his hands to turn around and get a better look, watching with wide eyes as Frankie started to come with his cock completely untouched.

It was truly a sight to behold. His three friends stood frozen with their eyes glued to Frankie's cock as it bobbed and twitched of it's own accord, slapped repeatedly against his own stomach and dipped into his belly button. They watched as thick ropes of cum began to spill from his weeping tip, painting his stomach and chest, his chin, the floor. His balls shivered and tightened, more spurting out again and again as he writhed and shook on his knees, making the most pathetic little sounds as his eyes rolled.

Four loads now.

They were all in shock. They'd known he could do it, had felt him come in his pants untouched more than enough times at that point to know it was possible for him. But Christ, they'd never seen anything like it.

The room went silent as Frankie caught his breath, as he came down from his untouched orgasm and his loud outburst. They all watched as his cock continued to twitch with aftershocks, Benny letting out a soft groan when a little more cum dribbled from the tip. And then it was over.

More silence, save for Frankie's gasps and whimpers. And then Will took a step forward.

"Thank you, Fish," he told him earnestly, patting him on the shoulder and squeezing it gently, "That was... fuck. Thank you. You're fuckin' incredible."

Frankie looked up at him through fluttering lashes and nodded with a small smile, and then Will disappeared back to the bunks.

Benny was next. He got down on Frankie's level and came face to face with him, a grin on his face, "You're so pretty, Frank," he told him softly, "And you did so good. S'at what you needed?" Frankie nodded and Benny ruffled his hair a little bit, "Thanks, man. Thank you. We're gonna kill it tomorrow."

He followed his brother back to the bunks, leaving just Frankie and Santi alone together. Just like Benny had, Santi kneeled down to meet Frankie at eye level, picking up his cap along the way and carefully placing it on top of Frankie's head with a smile.

"Did I do good?" Frankie asked him softly, voice hoarse.

Santiago smiled even wider, pulled the cap down a bit further and murmured, "Si, Francisco. Perfecto."

A sleepy and sated grin lit up Frankie's cum-coated face. He could still feel everything, the thick layer of spend on his cheeks and chest, his slowly softening cock, the ache in his jaw - and he loved all of it. It felt right. So fucking right.

"Can you take a picture?" he suddenly asked, eyes alight, "Of me? Like this? I wanna... I wanna keep it. To remember it."

Santi's eyes softened even more, hand coming up to gently stroke Frankie's bare shoulder, "I can do that."

Santi grabbed the polaroid camera, held it front of his face and peered down at Frankie with a fond smile as his friend looked up at him softly, tiredly. "Show me those eyes, Francisco," he murmured, and Frankie halted the fluttering of his lashes to give the camera his ultimate fucked-out expression, a smile playing at his lips. The camera flashed and Santi pulled out the developed picture, waving it in the air as he settled back down in front of Frankie.

"Look at all this," he murmured softly, reaching up to gently thumb a bit of the cum on Frankie's face and scoop it carefully into his friend's mouth. Frankie sucked Santi's thumb with ease, sleepy and docile.

"S'yours," Frankie breathed when Santi pulled it back out.

Santi raised an eyebrow, "Mine?"

"What you just put in my mouth," Frankie clarified with a flush to his cheeks, "That was yours."

"You can tell?"

Frankie nodded with a soft chuckle, "Yeah, I can tell you all apart."

And if that wasn't the hottest thing Santiago had ever heard in his life.

Getting up from the floor was a bit of a task, but Santi helped him every step of the way. He lead Frankie to the showers where he let him lean against the wall, let him bask in the warmth of the hot water and the feeling of soap and shampoo as Santi worshipped him in a different way, a new way. Pressed kisses to his temples and his forehead, took his time lathering Frankie's arms and legs, gently cleaned his coated face and spent cock. And when he was done, Santi wrapped him in a towel and brought him back to his bunk, laid beside him and kissed him slow and deep until it felt like all that existed was just the two of them, nobody else.

He'd placed the polaroid in Frankie's bedside table and stroked his hair, murmured those familiar soft and gentle praises as he drifted to sleep.

Needless to say, their first mission was a success.

You're lying down with him now. It's well past midnight, moonlight streaming in through your bare-bones new bedroom as you peer at him quietly from under your lashes. He looks tired - he's been talking for over an hour now.

"There's more," he murmurs, eyes drooping, "More happened after that, a lot more, but I-"

"You've told me more than enough," you whisper, "You've been so honest, Frankie." Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek, your mouth turning up slightly at the corners when his eyes start to close, "Thank you for telling me about that."

He hums, breathes deeply as sleep slowly starts to find him. You can't help but stare at him, watch his face turn peaceful, the lines in the corners of his eyes smoothing out, his full lips relaxing into a natural frown. He's so beautiful. He's so.... good.

You think of him back then, the way he probably used to be. So unsure, so new to the real world and so close to facing things he'd never anticipated. You picture him lying in his bunk with Will above him, Santi and Benny beside him, Tom somewhere else, somewhere distant - it makes sense now. It all makes sense.

And now he's lying in his own bed, in his own house, years later - with you. You, the only thing you think has really made sense to him for a long time, the only thing that's helped him overcome some of life's worst obstacles, the pain and the trauma from the shit he's dealt with throughout his life.

But despite all of this, despite the past few years you've spent together, you suddenly can't help but wonder where he'd be right now if you hadn't met.

Would he be in Santiago's bed?

You slip out from under the blankets and grab your phone from your nightstand, making sure to turn out the light before heading to the kitchen. Your nostrils are met with the smell of fresh paint and leftover chow mein as you flick on the overhead and settle yourself on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Unsure exactly why, you unlock your phone and scroll through your contacts, biting your lip as you search for Santiago's name. When you finally find it, you tap on it, feeling something odd sink in your heart when you see the lack of messages. You've never texted him? Not even once? You lean back and try to think of the last time you even had a conversation alone with him without Frankie or the others there, just a one-on-one interaction... and you come up blank.

He'd been such a huge part of Frankie's life. And still is now - still sees him on weekends, goes to games and bars, came over to the old apartment for drinks and dinner pretty regularly. He's been there for Frankie in ways you never could have imagined or guessed, took care of him and comforted him, would probably take a bullet for him - hell, he actually might've for all you know.

You look back down at your phone and stare at the blank space where words should be, feel that guilt from earlier rise in your chest and make a home in the form of a lump in your throat.

You start typing out a message.

#frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x triple frontier boys #PPCUGiftExchange2024 #frankie morales x reader #*

538 notes · View notes

burntheedges · 3 months

Text

Is this a date? 💜

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 9k words 18+ (rated E) | my fic list | ao3

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day, Jenn! @jennaispunk I hope you enjoy my gift for you for the #SpaceSistersSecretValentine. it got a bit long (lol). I loved your prompts – this is the one I chose:

prompt/summary: Everyone is going to the Valentine’s Day party as a couple and it would look stupid if you both went alone, so you and Frankie go as a couple (of course that’s when you're forced to confront your feelings for each other).

tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, food and drink mention, best-friends-to-lovers, kissing, smut, p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), creampie (use a condom, folks), pet names (hermosa, querida, bebita, preciosa, amor, baby, babe), dirty talk (in English and Spanish, translated in parentheses), no use of y/n, reader has no description other than having a vagina, being on birth control, and using she/her pronouns, AU (either no Colombia trip or better outcomes from the trip, you decide), no mention of breasts or bra

Thank you to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta (as always) and to @urmomsgnocchi for looking over and helping with the Spanish dialogue! (check out ali’s tips for sexy talk in Spanish, too)

Is this a date?

Frankie grimaces as he drops out of the driver’s seat of his truck onto his driveway. He takes a moment to stretch his back, knowing it won’t actually help. The tightness he feels isn’t in his back, anyway.

He groans through the stretch and turns to grab his work bag from the backseat before locking his truck and heading inside, where he drops it by the front door. Toeing off his shoes, he shakes his head. He still feels it. He tries to ignore it and heads to his bedroom to change out of his work clothes, which are stained with engine grease from a long afternoon of repairs. It isn’t anywhere near as good as flying the helicopters or planes himself, but at least this way he still gets to work with them. (At least, that’s what he tells Pope whenever he asks.)

A few minutes later, Frankie is flopping onto his couch, beer in hand, no longer able to hide from the worry and the way he can feel it in his body. The way he has felt it, for weeks now.

Two weeks, to be exact.

He’s had the same pit in his stomach ever since Benny told him about the party. The Valentine’s Day party. Frankie sighs, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch, and feels his hat fall off his head. He sighs again.

He doesn’t know what to do. For the first time in years, all of the guys are with someone. All of them, except for him. And all of the women he knows are dating someone.

Except for you.

Frankie presses his palms to his eyes and tries not to sigh again. He’s developing a habit and he knows the guys will call him on it. But he can’t help it. Not with his feelings about this, about you.

You’ll be the only two at the party without a date. And somehow Frankie had agreed that that meant the two of you should go together. As friends. On a friend date. And now the party is only one day away and Frankie feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. Maybe he should just fake sick, try to get out of it. But he doesn’t want to leave you hanging, even if he knows it’s going to be absolutely excruciating to be your fake date. Just for one night. Fuck.

(Pope, the absolute asshole, had been the one to suggest it while you were all out at the bar. Right after Benny invited everyone to the party.

“Well maybe the two of you should just go together, then!” Pope had been grinning as he said it, knowing he was getting under Frankie’s skin.

Frankie figured most of the guys knew he liked you, had probably noticed the way he couldn’t look away from you whenever you were in the room. But Pope was the only one who knew for sure, who had heard it straight from Frankie himself. He was using that knowledge for evil. “It’ll be fun! Give you a reason to get dressed up, Fish, stop looking so scruffy for once.”

Frankie had wanted the floor to swallow him up, or maybe just to run away. He wanted to look at you to see your reaction to all of this but also couldn’t bear to do it. He’d just stared at his beer, tense. He’d felt like he was one word away from bursting into action, with no idea what that action might be. Maybe strangling Pope with his bare hands.

But then you’d responded. “Give it a rest, Santi, we all know you just wish you could rock a mustache like Frankie.”

Everyone at your end of the bar had laughed and the conversation had mercifully moved on. Frankie had finally looked up and found you looking at him, too. You were smiling but he could tell you were nervous. He couldn’t think why you would be.

You both started talking at the same time.

“Sorry about Pope—“

“It’s not a bad idea—“

You both trailed off, and it took him a second to register your words.

“You don’t have to apologize for Santiago, Frankie, I have met him before. Once or twice.” You were smiling now, but he was stuck on what you’d just said.

“Wait, what isn’t a bad idea?” He reached for his beer.

“Oh! Um,” you looked nervous again. He tried not to do the same. “We could go to the party together. Since everyone else is paired up. You know, make it more fun.”

Frankie froze with his drink halfway to his mouth. He hadn’t been expecting that. You just meant as friends, right? You had to. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never thought for even a second that you might feel about him the way he feels about you.

He’d been quiet for too long. Your smile dropped and you started again. “I mean, we don’t have to—“

“No! Wait,” Frankie hastily put his beer down, barely noticing the way it spilled onto his hand when he almost missed the bar top.

“It was just an idea, I mean—“

“Hold on,” he slid his dry hand closer to yours on the bar but didn’t touch you. “I didn’t say it was a bad idea. It probably would be more fun.” He was trying not to hope you’d mean to suggest a date. No way.

You nodded, still looking nervous. “Yeah, we could, um–” he watched as you took a deep breath. “Maybe do the whole thing, you know? Get dressed up. Make it fun.”

The whole thing. Frankie felt his hope rising and tried to shove it back down. “You mean, um. Do you mean as—”

Your eyes widened and you sat up straight on your barstool. “No!” Your voice was loud and Frankie was a bit surprised. “I mean, not like that.” You laughed but you looked uncomfortable doing it, and he didn’t know how to take it. “Just as friends, right? A friend date. Or something.”

Frankie had felt his heart drop into his shoes. A friend date. The last thing he wanted, and probably the best he would ever get. He’d agreed, trying not to notice your relief when he did.

And he’d been trying not to think about it ever since.)

You’d barely talked to him since that night and Frankie was trying not to read into it. You’d agreed, before you’d parted ways that night – a friend date. He’ll pick you up at 6, you’ll both dress up a bit. Try to have some fun.

Fun. He scoffs to himself, thinking of it. More like, try not to think too much about how he wishes it was a real date. Try not to make it weird.

Usually you text him daily. Not always for long conversations, but you would share funny or annoying things about your day, and Frankie would do the same. But not since that night. The radio silence is killing him, but he doesn’t want to push and find out that you’ve gone quiet for exactly the reason he’s afraid of.

Sometime in the last two weeks Frankie has allowed himself to face the reality of the situation. Sure, he’s admitted to Pope in the past that he likes you. But the distance between you has given him the space he apparently needed to face up to the truth, something he’s secretly known all along – he’s in love with you. Absolutely head over heels, fully lost, one hundred percent in love. He’s been lying to himself, afraid to acknowledge it. But he is, and now he’s afraid he’s lost you before he can even do anything about it.

You’re his best friend. You have been for a while now. And you deserve a good date, even if it kills Frankie to give it to you. So he’ll do it. And he’ll try not to hope too much for more.

Frankie doesn’t sleep much that night.

…

On the day of the party, you wake up at 6am. You’re lying in bed, asleep, and then suddenly you’re awake and staring at the ceiling and your first thought is, it’s today. Your friend date is today, and you press your hands to your face to hide from yourself.

You can’t believe you got yourself into this situation. You’d been so close, breaths away from suggesting an actual date with Frankie. And you’d chickened out at the last minute. Like you did every time. You’d wanted to kick yourself the moment the words “friend date” came out of your mouth, but there was nothing you could do about it now.

Not without admitting the truth.

(After Frankie had left, Santiago had made his way over to you and leaned against the bar next to you with a serious look on his face.

“So I guess you heard that,” you said, groaning.

He nodded. “You should ask him out for real.”

You shook your head in response. “If he wanted that, he would have said so.”

Santiago rolled his eyes at you. “You and I both know Fish isn’t going to do that. He’s all in his head about this.”

You sighed. “I just–” you swallowed and closed your eyes. “What if you’re wrong, Santi? I can’t lose what we have now.”

He’d looked at you, and as always you appreciated that Santiago took your feelings so seriously. He was a good friend.

“Well, then, you have a couple of weeks to think about it. About what you want. And then at the party you can see. Flirt a bit. You’ll have his full attention, and you know it. And you’re his best friend, you know that, too. You won’t lose him. Either way.”)

It reassured you at the time, but it turns out that something had changed that night. You feel like you’ve forgotten how to be friends with Frankie all of a sudden and it hurts. What if you’ve already lost him? Because of this stupid friend date?

By the morning of the date, you’re in knots. You can barely focus and you have no idea where the day goes – the time flies by and suddenly it’s 5pm and you’re rushing into your bedroom to get ready.

You know what you’re going to wear. You’d pictured it in your mind, the same night you’d gotten yourself into this mess. There’s an outfit you’ve been saving for a special date (a date with Frankie, you try not to think) and it’s time to bring it out. You’re hoping, and trying not to hope too much, that Frankie will be blown away by it. That something will happen tonight. That things will change, but not so much that you lose your best friend.

You look at yourself in the mirror and you know you look good. This is how you were hoping you’d look for a first date with Frankie, and you try to let that be a good sign. You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

Here we go.

Frankie, always punctual, rings your doorbell right at 5:59pm. It makes you smile and you feel some of your nerves fade away.

They all come rushing back when you open the door and see him.

Frankie is wearing dark jeans and a deep purple button up dress shirt, both of which fit him perfectly. His beard is neatly trimmed and he’s not wearing a hat. His curls are loose and styled and your breath catches in your throat. He’s holding flowers. You barely notice the way his eyes have widened as he looks at your outfit, too.

“Your hair!”

“You look amazing–”

You speak at the same time, and then you both smile. It relaxes you a little bit.

“Your hair looks great, Frankie, I can’t believe you’re not wearing a hat!”

He grins a little. “I wouldn’t wear a hat on a first date, come on.” The words send a shiver up your spine and you try not to read into them. But you want to. “Um, or a friend date, I guess.”

“Um,” you reply, and then mentally kick yourself. “Well, it looks really nice.”

He blushes. “Thanks. I mean it, you look amazing. I’ve never seen this number before.” He gestures at your outfit, and you smile wider. “And these are for you.” He hands you the flowers, and you look down at them, overwhelmed. You step inside to find a vase and Frankie lingers near the door behind you.

“I’ve been saving it,” you say over your shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“The outfit.” You smooth your hands down your sides and try not to look nervous as you turn back around to face him.

“Oh yeah? For what?”

“Oh, um. For a first date.” You can’t believe you just said that. But he said it first, and that means you can say it too, right? You keep talking before either of you can dwell on that thought. “Should we go? Don’t want to be late.”

Frankie steps back to let you move past him and nods. “Sure. Don’t want Benny to give us crap for missing any of his party.” You laugh.

You feel better in the car. This feels easy, as easy as it always does with Frankie. Whatever weirdness has arisen between you hasn’t broken what you already have. It’s a comforting realization.

As Frankie pulls over to park outside Benny’s house, he asks, “so, how do you want to play this?”

You tilt your head at him. “What do you mean?”

He gestures at the house. “They’re going to tease us for this, you know that. About how we’re on a date. How do you want to play it?”

You consider him, and wonder if this is your chance to test the waters. You turn your upper body to face him and lean against the door of his truck. With a teasing smile of your own, you reply, “well, they’re expecting us to be awkward, right? They’ll tease us, we’ll be weird about it, they laugh. What if we beat them to it?”

Frankie turns towards you and rests his left arm on the steering wheel. He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we go in there and act like we’re on a date? Not like two friends who are expecting to be given hell for it. Like we’re on a real date. It’ll confuse the hell out of them, they won’t know what to do with it.” You hold your breath while you wait for Frankie’s answer. You have no idea what it will be.

His brow is furrowed as he looks between you at the gear shift. “But…” he trails off and you reach over to nudge his hand to encourage him. He slips his hand over yours slowly and squeezes. It isn’t the first time in your years of being friends that he’s held your hand to reassure you like this but you badly want to read more into it now. “I see what you’re saying. It would probably be pretty funny to see their faces.” You nod. “But what about… after? Since it’s not a real date.”

You meet his eyes and gather your courage. “Who said it isn’t?” And before he can reply, before you can even see his reaction, you open the door behind you and slip out of the car.

“Wait!” You hear Frankie call for you and try not to grin too widely. He comes jogging around the back of his truck and meets you halfway across the lawn of Benny’s house. “Wait, hey, hold on. What do you mean?”

You focus on walking, and he falls into step next to you. You can feel his eyes on you as you step up to the front door. Before you knock you look at him and meet his familiar warm gaze. “I meant what I said, Frankie. Who said it’s not a real date? Maybe it could be.”

You turn away and knock without letting him reply. You’re vibrating with nerves, surprised at your audacity. You’re certain he can see the tension in your body, the nerves. But maybe this is what you need, to see if you can have what you want.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Frankie straighten up and shake his head. He goes to run his fingers through his hair but stops himself. Suddenly, he steps closer and slips an arm around your waist to pull you close to him. You gasp at the feeling of his body, warm and solid along your right side. “If you wanted this to be a date, hermosa, you only had to ask.” His voice is deeper, suddenly, and he’s so close to your ear you can feel his breath.

You start to turn your head towards him to respond, but before you can, the door flies open in front of you. You both turn towards it, startled.

“Hey, you two! You’re late!” Benny smiles widely when he sees you waiting on his porch. He’s wearing a bright red dress shirt and holding a pink cocktail. He starts to gesture you inside when his eyes fall to Frankie’s arm, which is still snug around your waist. You can see his surprise and decide it’s now or never.

“Hi Benny,” you reply, leaning into Frankie and smiling. “Where’s the party at?”

His eyes dart between you. “Go straight through to the kitchen. Hey, I thought–”

You cut him off. “Thanks! Let’s grab something to drink, Frankie, I’m thirsty.” You step forward and reach back to catch Frankie’s hand as he lets it fall from your waist. As you pass by Benny, you know he’s staring at your hands, which are laced together and holding tight. Frankie squeezes your hand and it reassures you.

When you arrive at the kitchen, Frankie crowds behind you, much closer than he ever has before. His hands land lightly on your hips. You have no idea what your face is doing.

You need to focus. This was your big idea and clearly Frankie is shifting into some first-date mode that you’ve never seen before. Get it together. Flirting is clearly on the table, now, and you need to step it up.

As you move into the room, with Frankie close behind, the others yell greetings and welcome you in. You notice that Benny and Steph have gone all out with the decorations – the kitchen looks like you’re inside a Valentine’s card. And most of the food and drinks are red or pink (or made of chocolate). Soon enough you have a drink in your hand and you’re deep in conversation with Santiago’s girlfriend, Yovanna. Frankie stands behind you, left hand on your left hip, drink in his right. You can feel his body heat and you’re trying not to let how flustered you are show on your face.

After a few minutes, Santiago comes over to pull Frankie into another of the boys’ longstanding arguments about something or other. Before he goes, Frankie suddenly shifts his grip on your hip and squeezes. He leans close to murmur in your ear, “I’ll be back soon, hermosa.” His words send warmth spiraling down your spine and you shiver. You blink and meet Yovanna’s eyes.

She has one eyebrow raised as she takes a long sip of her drink. “So, what’s going on here, hmm?”

You feel your cheeks heat and throw back the rest of your own drink. “A real date, I think.”

“You think?”

You shake your head. “We just said it, or I did, outside. ‘Who said it’s not a real date? Maybe it could be.’ And then it was like he flipped a switch and now Frankie is flirting and I’m still catching up. Even though it was my idea. I guess.”

She laughs a little, but kindly. “He’s head over heels for you, you know. Of course he’s flirting. You gave him the go ahead and now he’s going all in. He knows what he wants.” She nudges you with her shoulder. “You should get him back. Raise the stakes.”

You tilt your head, considering her words. “You think so? I’m still worried I’m going to mess this up.”

Yovanna looks around the room before stepping closer to you. She lowers her voice. “You’re in love with that man. You gave him an opening, and he leapt through it. Go get him.”

You knew that, of course. But something about the way she says it to you flips the switch for you, this time. You look over at Frankie, who has his back to you, and you smirk. She nods. “That’s right. He wants you. And I can’t wait to see the look on his face when you show him you want him, too.”

You grin at her and give her a hug. “I think I need to go save my date from your boyfriend.” She laughs and waves you onward.

As you approach, you see Santiago notice you and you wink at him. He grins but doesn’t let Frankie see his distraction. He’s still got his back turned when you step up behind him and slide your right arm around his waist, ducking under his left. “Hey, babe. You want something to eat?” You can feel the way his body responds to yours – he turns towards you immediately, like it’s second nature, and his left arm wraps snugly around your shoulders. He looks surprised, but he meets your gaze with a delighted smile.

“I could eat.” He runs his fingers down your arm lightly, and you bite your lip. You turn to Santiago, and realize Will and Benny are there, too.

“I’m stealing him, boys.”

Santiago is grinning, hugely, while Will and Benny both look like someone just hit them over the head with something heavy. They look shocked and you smile innocently at them in response.

“Come on, Frankie.” He follows easily as you tug him away and you realize how attuned to you he is, like always.

“Was about to come find you, hermosa.” He leans closer to murmur into your ear and you shiver. “Would much rather talk to you than those idiots.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm, of course.” You feel Frankie’s nose brush against the top of your ear and your breath catches. But you’ve arrived at the table laden with food and he stands up straight. “Seems like we have a lot to talk about.” You meet his eyes again and for a moment you both just stare at each other, knowing somehow that you’re both recognizing the huge shift in your relationship that just happened as you arrived at this party. You start to reach out towards him when Steph comes flying into the room.

“It’s game time! Everyone in the living room, stat!” She taps you both on the shoulders as she passes, and you sigh.

“I guess it’s game time.” You laugh ruefully as you say it, reaching out to grab Frankie’s hand as you move towards the living room.

But he uses his grip on your hand to pull you back in and ducks forward to press a fleeting kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be ready to talk whenever you are.” You feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you smile at him helplessly.

“Smooth moves, Morales.”

He grins as you tease him. “Only for you, baby.”

In the living room you find that the group has split, with the boys on one side and the significant others on the other. Steph claps her hands together when you arrive and gestures for you to split up, too. “To your sides, you two! It’s us versus them!”

It turns out Steph has planned a series of games that pit the two halves of each couple against each other. It’s fun – the whole room is laughing, everyone is having a good time.

But it also means that you and Frankie are separated for most of the evening, watching each other from across the room. You know it’s obvious – your friends have elbowed you more than once, and Yovanna waggles her eyebrows at you after you watch (and admire) Frankie drawing so carefully and precisely for Pictionary. You roll your eyes back at her.

You feel his eyes on you, too. Watching as you read off a clue, tracing down your back as you draw for Pictionary. He’s looking at you, only at you, and it’s washing over you like the tide, pulling you to move back to his side.

It’s a long while before the games are exhausted, and therefore a long while before you find yourself next to Frankie again. The group has dispersed, filled the room, and Benny puts on some music for dancing before pulling Steph into his arms over by the fireplace. You’re smiling and watching them when Frankie steps up beside you. He leans in and you turn towards his warmth like a flower turning towards the sun.

“Dance with me, hermosa?” He wraps his arms around your waist from behind as he says it, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the base of your throat. You shiver as you lean back against him and nod.

“Yes, Frankie. Anytime.” He grins into your neck and you close your eyes, wondering how you got here so quickly. It feels amazing but you’re also reeling at the change. Frankie just kissed you.

He steps back and grabs your hand to lead you down the hallway to the backyard. “I thought we were going to dance?” You look back and notice all of the other couples are still in the living room.

“We are,” he agrees. “But I want you all to myself, for a minute.” You smile and follow him out the backdoor. Benny and Steph clearly decorated out here, too, and there are twinkling lights everywhere. You can hear the music piping through the speakers on the back porch.

Frankie leads you down the steps and into the yard, and you feel the anticipation building inside of you. He turns to the right to step into the shadow of a tree. You realize you’re now out of sight of the back door and you raise an eyebrow at him when he pulls you back into his arms.

“All to yourself, huh?” Not that you’d rather be anywhere else but here.

He smiles at you as you start to sway back and forth to the music. “Come on, baby, can you blame me? I just found out a couple of hours ago that I’m on a real first date with the woman of my dreams, and I’ve barely had a minute alone with her since.” You feel your cheeks heat as you grin at him and tighten your right arm around his neck.

“The woman of your dreams, huh?” The idea of it makes you feel breathless, almost dizzy. Of his dreams.

His gaze softens and he nods. “Yeah, querida. You have to know that by now.” He pulls you closer. “I wanted this, so much. You’re my best friend, and you’re more than that. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I just never thought you’d feel the same.”

You run your fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and watch as he shivers. “I do, Frankie. For a long time, now.”

He tilts his head, considering your answer. “How long?”

“Well…”

He grins. “Come on, baby, bet I’ve got you beat.”

You frown at him. “I think…” He squeezes your waist to encourage you and you laugh. “Well, definitely since you helped me build that bookshelf.”

His eyes widen. “The bookshelf? The one in your bedroom?” You nod. “That was years ago. You mean we could have been together all this time?” For a moment he looks crestfallen, but shakes his head. “No, wait, I’m sorry. I did hope for that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy right now.” You smile at him. That’s Frankie, for you – always so worried about how everyone around him is feeling.

“It’s ok, Frankie. I know what you mean. But I also love being your best friend. And that took us a while.”

“... also?” His eyes were locked on yours, intent. You felt your heart rate pick up.

“What?”

“You said you also love being my best friend. What do you mean, also?”

Shit. You bite your lip, unsure of how to reply. It’s too early, right? Even if you have known for years. You can’t confess your love on a first date.

Can you?

His gaze drops to your mouth and he smirks. “Hey, baby, it’s ok, I’ll go first. Te amo.”

Your mouth drops open and he grins. “Frankie?” You’re sure you look absolutely shocked.

“Te amo sin freno, preciosa. Ever since that day you pushed Pope in the lake.” (I love you no matter what (a lot).)

You’re gawking at him now. That was only a month after you met. “Frankie! That was–”

“I know,” he lifts his left hand to cup your face gently. “And I didn’t know it then. But I recognize it now. I was head over heels from the beginning.”

You throw yourself at him before he even finishes speaking, and he laughs as he wraps his arms around you. You press your face into his neck and let him hold you close. You feel like your whole body is tingling, head to toe. Frankie loves you.

You take a deep breath and say, voice steady and full of emotion, “I love you, too, Francisco Morales.” You feel his breath catch and you grin. “I’m in love with you.”

Frankie suddenly lets you go, and you almost stumble before he grabs your face in his hands to pull you in for a kiss.

It’s not what you imagined kissing Frankie would be like.

It’s better.

His hands are large and warm as he cradles your face gently between them. His lips are soft and firm as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel the heat of his body against your own and you sigh as you let your weight rest against him, wrapping your arms around his waist. His thumb brushes your cheek as his tongue teases your bottom lip, and you start to open for him, eager. You feel more than hear the small moan that escapes you. Frankie smiles against your lips and wraps one of his hands around the back of your neck.

That’s when you’re interrupted.

“I’ll get it going!” Benny comes barreling out of the back door, shouting about the firepit. Frankie doesn’t step away from you but he breaks your kiss, looking up to watch as Benny jogs past the two of you. He doesn’t seem to notice you standing by the tree.

“Fuck,” Frankie releases a breath and rests his forehead against yours. “Fuckin’ Benny.” You can’t help but laugh, and Frankie joins you. Your laughter seems to finally attract his attention.

“Well, hello, lovebirds.” You look over and find Benny grinning at you, hands on his hips, firepit forgotten. “What are you two up to back here, hiding behind that tree? Hmm?”

You roll your eyes at him as Frankie buries his face in your shoulder. “Well, we were having a pretty good dance, until someone interrupted.” You raise your eyebrows at him and he laughs before tilting his head at you, seeming to consider something.

“So this is a real date, then?”

You nod, and Frankie finally picks his head up to look at Benny. “Our first date.”

“Well, shit.” Benny winks at you. “You know, Fish, if you leave right now you can probably sneak around the side of the house before anyone realizes. Maybe take your date somewhere more romantic. And private.”

Frankie looks startled, and then smiles down at you. “Need anything from inside, querida?”

You bite your lip. “My bag and my coat are in there.” Frankie starts to frown, but Benny moves closer and interjects.

“Oh I can handle a little op like that, no problem.” He claps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder, grinning again. “You two go around the side and I’ll meet you out front. No one’ll notice. They’re all still in the living room.”

You both nod, and you can see the way Frankie relaxes. “Thanks, Benny.”

“Don’t mention it, man. Just go somewhere more romantic. Don’t hang out with us losers on your first date.” You laugh as Frankie takes you by the hand to lead you down the path that circles the house. Benny actually salutes before heading inside to take care of his part of the plan.

It must go off without a hitch, because he hands you your things by the front door and waves you onward, smiling. You and Frankie are both giggling as you sneak around the corner and run across the lawn. You practically leap into the passenger seat of his truck, grinning as you watch Frankie start it up and throw it into drive. He peels away from the curb so fast the tires squeal.

He reaches over to grab your hand once you’re on your way, lifting it to press a soft kiss to your knuckles that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Where to, hermosa? Want to go get a drink? Maybe some dessert?”

You turn and let your temple rest against your headrest as you consider it. Consider him. You’d love to go out with him on a real date, but right now there’s only one thing on your mind.

“Come home with me, Frankie?”

He grins at the road and squeezes your hand. “You sure you don’t want to go out for real, first?”

You lean forward and rest your elbows on the center console. Your joined hands fall into his lap and you smile as your hand comes to rest on his thigh. “I do want that. But we have all the time in the world to go out. I know what I want, Francisco.” You pause and he turns to look at you as he pulls to a stop at a red light. “You.” You watch as his eyes darken and you smile. “Take me home.”

Frankie nods eagerly and turns right when the light turns green, in the direction of your house. Only minutes later he’s pulling into your driveway and you’re out of the truck almost before he pulls the key out of the ignition.

He meets you as you round the front, arms snaking around your waist as he backs you up against the side of your garage.

“Hey, baby.” He leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. You run your hands into his hair. “Shit, it feels so good to hold you like this.” He kisses you again, and this time you both get swept away in it. Until a car passes by on the street and you remember you’re still outside.

“Frankie,” you breathe his name as he presses soft kisses down the side of your neck. “Frankie, let’s go inside.”

“Mmm, in a minute.” He nibbles at a spot just below your ear and you whine, so quiet you can barely hear it.

“Francisco.” You try to sound stern, but you miss it by a mile. He laughs.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back and grabs your hands as they fall from his hair. “Let’s get inside, querida, I got plans for you tonight.”

You follow him towards your door with a grin. “Oh yeah? What plans are those?”

He tugs the keys from your fingers and opens the door for you, ushering you inside. “Well, the first item on the agenda tonight is licking your pussy until you come for me.”

You stumble, bracing yourself on the wall as you slip your shoes off, almost face-planting on the floor. You turn to look at him, incredulous. “Frankie!”

He’s looking at you with a cocky half smile and you feel the arousal pooling in your underwear. “Please, baby? I’ve been dreaming about it. For so long.” His words are a plea but his tone is something else entirely. He sounds so sure of himself. Your head spins and you turn to let your back fall to rest against the wall. Frankie is only this cocky when he knows, without a single doubt, how good he is at something. You know that, and you’ve heard the guys tease him for how much he likes doing it. The promise that underlies his words makes your legs feel like they might give out.

“Y-yes, Frankie,” you breathe and he steps forward to wrap you up securely in his arms. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek and starts to walk with you towards your bedroom. Before you can even catch your breath he’s easing you down onto the edge of your bed and kneeling in front of you. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you, hermosa. Lo necesito.” (I need it.)

Sitting in front of him, you reach for your clothes and smile as you tease him. “Lo necesitas? Really?” (You need it?)

“Sí, querida,” he helps you remove your clothes until only your underwear is left. “Estoy desesperado.” (I’m desperate for it.) He winks and then leans forward to press a kiss over your underwear. “Por favor? (Please?) Let me make you feel good. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good. Lo prometo.” (I promise it.)

You shiver at his words and move to slip your underwear off. As you do he leans forward and pushes your thighs apart. His gaze is locked on your pussy as you reveal yourself to him.

“Baby, you are so fucking beautiful. Every bit of you.” His eyes raise to meet yours and your breath catches at the look on his face. “Relax, let me take care of you.”

You fall backwards onto the bed at his urging. Frankie leans forward again and presses a soft kiss to your slit. Your fingers tangle in his hair without you even realizing you were going to do it. He slides one hand upwards from your thigh and gently opens up your pussy under his gaze.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, and you feel it on your clit. You squirm. “Lo sabía. Estás tan mojada, bebita. Es todo para mí?” (I knew it. You’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?)

You lift up on your elbows to meet his gaze and nod, grinning. “Always for you, Frankie.”

“Mm,” he hums and moves forward to lick a devastating stripe from your entrance up to your clit. “Que cosita tan linda. Tan deliciosa.” (What a pretty little thing. So delicious.) And then he stops talking, focusing fully on eating you out with devastating precision.

His tongue teases at your clit before pressing down firmly, sending a spike of pleasure shooting up your spine. His fingers tease at your entrance while he finds a rhythm with his tongue that has you clutching at this hair. “Yes, Frankie–”

He presses forward lightly with one finger, slipping inside of you, and you moan. You’ve caught yourself staring at his hands so many times and the stretch is better than you ever imagined. He curls it and presses inside of you at the same time as his tongue circles your clit, and you shiver. His tongue and his fingers work together to push you higher and higher as you struggle to keep from closing your thighs around his head.

Fuck, he really is good at this. He slips another finger inside of you and you gasp, arching your back.

Frankie reads you like a book – he learns from every moan, every breath, and soon you’re almost there. You feel it, just out of reach as he holds you on the edge.

“Frankie, I’m– I’m gonna–” Your voice is breathy as you thrust your hips towards his mouth. He hold you down with one hand while he fucks you with the other.

He leans back for just a moment, moving his thumb up to replace his tongue, drawing gentle circles around your clit. “I know, querida. I can feel it. Dámelo.” (Give it to me.) He dives back in and opens his mouth against your pussy, and you cry out.

He hums, and you feel it through his tongue and his lips. He thrusts his fingers inside at the same moment and you feel yourself start to fall over the edge.

“Frankie–” You arch your back and tug at his hair. He suddenly moves his mouth downwards as his fingers take over teasing your clit, and your breath comes out like a sob when he pushes his tongue inside of you. “Yes, please–”

One more thrust of his tongue and a clever movement of his fingers and you’re gone. You rocket over the edge into an orgasm that feels years in the making, like Frankie has been stoking the fire and then set it ablaze for you now. You think you say his name, but you can’t be sure. Your entire body is trembling as it washes over you.

You take a great, heaving breath, and lift your head up to look for Frankie again. He has his chin resting on your pelvis, clearly waiting for you to come down. He’s smiling, eyes half open. His hair is a wild mess. His face glistens with evidence of where’s been.

He looks so fucking smug. You look at him and you feel something tug at your heart.

“You’re fucking beautiful when you come, querida.” His lips are quirked in a half smile but his voice is deep, almost gravely. He dips down swiftly to press a gentle kiss against your clit, and your legs twitch. “Better than I ever imagined. Never seen anything so pretty in my life.”

You cup his face in your hand and smile. “Shit, you really are good at that.”

He tilts his head. “At what?”

You roll your eyes but indulge him. “At using your mouth.”

Frankie grins, clearly delighted. “Well, when you’re properly motivated, it’s easy to practice until you get it right.” He winks at you.

You laugh and shake your head. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmm,” he hums as he pushes himself up, crawling over you on the bed. “Of course. And you know I have to keep my skills up. Keep practicing.”

“Is that an offer, Francisco?”

You feel him press his grin to your neck and you smile at the ceiling. “I’ll eat your pussy any time you like, querida. Just say the word.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Best thing I ever tasted. Only thing I want to do from now on, put my mouth all over you.”

You squirm a little, overwhelmed by his praise. “How are you still fully dressed?”

He laughs and sits back, straddling your hips. “Want me to strip for you baby?”

You nod and push at him lightly until he stands up. “Give me a show, Frankie.”

Frankie stands back and smiles, a little shy as he raises his hands to his buttons. “Am I supposed to dance?”

You tilt your head to one side and smile at him. “Frankie, you know I love the way you look. You could just pull your shirt off normally and I’ll be staring, totally distracted. It’s what happens every single time anyway.”

He furrows his brow. “How have we never noticed?” He’s deftly undoing his buttons now and you’re watching intently as each one reveals more of his chest to you.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

He smirks as he shrugs his shirt off, and you bite your lip but keep staring at his arms anyway.

“I mean, querida, how did we never notice we’ve been looking all this time? I mean, I know I was looking at you. Shit, the way you look in your bathing suit? Those little shorts you wear around the house on your days off?” He sighs, closing his eyes like he’s picturing it, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. You laugh at yourself, just a little, because you’re sitting naked in front of this man and you still react to his teasing like this. “You’ve been killing me, hermosa. And you’re saying you’ve been looking at me, too?”

You reach for him as he undoes his belt and help him with the button and zipper of his jeans. “Maybe we were both too scared of getting caught. To see what was right in front of us.”

Frankie strips off his jeans and the sight of him in just his black briefs stops your breath. You reach out and run your hands down his broad chest and hips, sliding around the back to squeeze his ass in both hands. You grin up at him. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

He smiles back and steps closer. You can see how hard he is in his briefs and you move to tug at the bottom hem, hand on his thigh. “One last act in your show, Frankie.” You start to pull and he lets you, moving his legs apart to make it easier as you slide his briefs down his legs. His cock springs lightly from the waistband and your eyes widen.

You knew Frankie was big. You’ve been swimming together, after all, many times. His body isn’t a total mystery to you. You’ve also heard the guys teasing him for it. But you’ve never seen him hard.

He’s big. His cock is beautiful – long, yes, but really what’s blowing your mind is how wide it is. How much girth it has.

“Shit,” you breathe, and without your conscious input your hand moves from his briefs to his cock. You lightly brush your fingers down his length and smile as it sends a shiver up his spine. When you look up and meet his eyes they’re dark, and hungry. “Frankie, you’re huge.” You punctuate your statement with a firm grip of his cock, and his hips thrust forward as you slide your hand up and down, once. You watch as his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open.

“Fuck,” his voice is deep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah? Big enough for you, baby?” You can hear it in his voice again – he knows. He knows how big his cock is and you feel your arousal growing as you think about how he probably knows exactly what to do with it.

“Francisco.” He looks down to meet your gaze. He’s breathing hard already, cheeks tinged pink and mouth wide. “Fuck me.” You say it firmly, steady, no hesitation. A slow, cocky grin takes over Frankie’s face and your eyes widen.

“Querida, I will give you everything you want.” He crowds you back onto the bed, shifting so you’re lying in the middle with him hovering over you. You brush your hands across his shoulders and marvel at how beautiful he looks like this, holding himself up, surrounding you. The head of his cock brushes against your stomach and you both moan. “That’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted. To give you what you want. Always.” He murmurs the last word into your throat as he runs his right hand down your side, fingers seeking out your pussy again. When he finds how wet you are, even more than before, he nips lightly at your jaw with a smile. “Shit. You think you can take it, hermosa?”

You nod, eyes falling closed. Frankie presses inside you again with two fingers and you sigh. “Let me open you up a bit, first. Get you ready.”

“Frankie–” you try to protest, hands tangling in his hair to urge him onward, and he chuckles, darkly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby. Not ever. Let me take care of you.” You nod and let him work you open on his fingers, gasping every time he brushes against that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks. After a few minutes he’s thrusting three fingers in and out and the sounds of how soaked you are fill the room.

The feeling of him above you and around you is overwhelming. You run your hands up and down his arms and chest and marvel that you can, that you’re allowed to reach out and touch. Finally. After so long.

It feels so good, you can’t wait any longer. “Now, Frankie, please–”

He nips at your shoulder again and curls his fingers inside of you. “Now, hermosa? Quieres algo?” (You want something?)

You poke him in the side and he laughs. You feel the love you have for his man start to well up inside of you. “You know what I want, Frankie.”

“Mmm,” he hums and presses a line of soft kisses down your neck. “Quiero oírte decirlo, bebita.” (I want to hear you say it, baby.)

You nod and pull him into a short kiss. You hold him there, lips brushing yours, as you say, “I want you to fuck me, Frankie. I want your cock. I want you to stretch me open. I want to feel you, everywhere.” He shudders and you can’t tear your eyes away from the effect your words have on him. His arms tremble and his shoulders hitch up by his ears. His hips stutter forward and he presses quick kisses to your mouth and chin and neck and mouth again.

“Shit. I know you’re on birth control, baby, do you have a condom?” You both know how long it’s been since either of you had sex. He is your best friend, after all.

You don’t hesitate. “Don’t need one.”

“You sure?”

“I just want you, Frankie. Always have.”

“Fuck,” he breathes the word into your mouth before pulling you into another kiss. “How’d I get so fucking lucky, huh?”

As he speaks, Frankie reaches down to spread open your pussy. He slides his cock against you, nudging your clit with the head. You pull him into another kiss. For a moment he just thrusts against you, and the slide of his length against you makes your head spin.

On the next thrust, he moves his mouth to your ear as he pulls his hips back. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that? I can’t believe you’re here, with me. Can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

The head of his cock notches against your entrance and you both suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, querida, if I’d have known? That you wanted this?” He begins to thrust forward and you feel the head of his cock stretch you open. Your next breath sounds like a sob. “All I want is to take you apart. To make you feel so fucking good you can’t think of anything but my cock inside of you, my tongue on your pussy.” He thrusts inside shallowly, and you wrap your arms around his neck. He presses a kiss to your neck under your ear and you whine, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Look, querida.” He lifts up and looks down your bodies, pulling his hips up until just the tip is still inside of you. You stare. “Mira como me toma.” (Look how she takes me.) He thrusts back inside and you moan as you watch. He fills you up completely, this time, and you’re so fucking full you can barely breathe. You can feel every inch of him and it’s everything you’ve wanted.

“Yes, Frankie, yes—“

“Yeah?” He finds a rhythm and you feel it start to build inside you again, climbing up your spine. “Así no? Así te gusta?” (Like that yeah? You like that?)

You nod, and he kisses you. His hips keep up their devastating rhythm and you try to rise to meet him. You can feel yourself getting closer, and Frankie must sense it, somehow, because he slides his right hand down to gently circle your clit. You arch your back at the touch and he slams into you again, hard.

“Yes, I—“

“I know. I can feel it. Come on, baby. Come for me. Just like that.”

And you do. When Frankie tells you to, you do — you feel it like a lightning strike down your spine. It washes out your vision and steals your breath. You cry out, maybe his name, maybe something wordless, and you come back to yourself and realize he’s murmuring in your ear as his thrusts pick up speed.

“… no sé cómo es posible que tengo tanta suerte. Que eres mía. Ay, hermosa, mi preciosa, mi— fuck—“ (I don’t know how it’s possible that I got this lucky. That you’re mine. Oh, beautiful, my precious, my— fuck—)

You tangle your hands in his hair again as you feel his hips stutter forward. “Yes, Frankie. Come for me, baby.”

He moans and thrusts forward again. You tug at his hair to pull his gaze up to meet yours. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open, wrecked.

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and murmur, “así amor así. Dámelo.” (Just like that, love. Give it to me.)

You watch as he thrusts forward one last time and his orgasm washes over him. It’s fucking beautiful. You’ve known him for so long and still you’ve seen so much of him tonight that you’ve never seen before. It’s overwhelming and you want more. You want everything.

“Querida,” he breathes as he lets his head fall forward and gently rests his forehead against your own. “You are so fucking beautiful when you come.”

You laugh, poking him in the side. “You are too, baby.”

He smiles and kisses you softly. “I can’t believe how good that was. It’s gonna be hard to get out of bed, knowing what’s waiting for me.”

You nod. You know exactly what he means.

He lifts his hips to gently slide out of you and you gasp. “Sorry, querida, let me clean you up.”

“Hey, wait.” Before he can move too far away, you catch him and pull him so he’s leaning over you again on one elbow. You brush his sweaty curls off his forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Frankie.”

He smiles so wide his eyes crinkle and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, querida. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

...

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you liked it, Jenn!!

taglist: @jupiter-soups @beardedjoel @morallyinept if you're on my taglist for maintenance request, let me know if you want to be tagged in general?

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #x reader #SpaceSistersSecretValentine

460 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 4 months

Text

Summer House

Coming sometime in 2024

Explicit 🔞 NO minors allowed

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

I tried to fight it, I really did. I was convinced that I didn't have the time or the headspace to start a fic, and I still am not entirely convinced otherwise, but this idea just won't leave me alone.

It's literally been a year since I teased this fic (I've already written a soulmates AU of it before the fic was even written lmao), and it has pivoted, so it's not exactly the same idea as it was when I first conceived it. It's 'edgier' than my other fics, we're going full in messy with this one besties (inspired by none other than my love @imaswellkid).

I can't promise when this will be written, and I don't know what form it will take or how long it will be, but I've scribbled down dialogue and scenes and they're just playing and replaying behind my eyelids when I try to go to sleep. I'm itching to get it down on metaphorical paper.

For now, a roughly edited sneak peek:

You should know better. You know you shouldn’t. Not when it’s your first time, not when his girlfriend is asleep in his bed two floors above, not to mention the rest of the guys - what they would say, what they would do if they ever find out -

But it’s Frankie. Your Frankie. Not that it matters he’s not actually yours. Not when he’s staring down at you the way he is right now, teeth catching his full bottom lip, sleep-tousled curls brushing those eyes you’d know anywhere.

#summer house series #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales

195 notes · View notes

whatsnewalycat · 2 months

Text

Designated Person | 9

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 9: Where The Wild Things Are

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.6k+

Tags / Warnings: alternating pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food mention, jealousy, alcohol & alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, internal conflict, birthday party, a low-key dudes rule moment (bros! bros! bros!), tried my hardest hardest with Spanish but I am a white girl I’m sorry if its wrong pls let me know, a lot of dialogue like so much dialogue fuck, children, toxic relationships just bad all around

Notes: WELL HI, long time no see! I know it’s been over 6 months since I’ve updated. I went on a warpath with another series (Psychomanteum—it’s finished if you wanna check it out). But I’m back to force these two dummies to walk through hellfire 💘

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]

———————————————————————————

Nothing seems right.

For what has to be the hundredth time, you sift through the sparse collection of t-shirts and dresses hanging in your closet. Each time you push a hanger aside to consider a potential outfit, your brain falls into the same pattern.

First, you wonder if Frankie would like it. Granted, if you showed up wearing a cardboard box he’d still want to fuck you.

You want him to like it more than that, though.

You want him to see you and get all weak in the knees. You want him to look at you in that way he does sometimes. That soft, magnetic look that tugs at every part of you. The one that argues against logic and speaks to intuition instead. That can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of look.

After considering this entirely reasonable and attainable goal, you picture yourself wearing the clothes through Angie’s eyes.

You dissect each potential outfit as she would. This dress too low cut, that one too frumpy, the other too short. A critical chorus of slut slut slut plays in the back of your head, accented by the memory of her manicured hands wrapped around your throat, the growl she let out when she squeezed around your windpipe.

“You little slut, I will fucking kill you.”

Throughout this whirlwind of turmoil, snippets from this morning rise to the surface and drown out everything else.

Frankie’s lips on yours, hungry and certain. His strong hands on your body, digging into your skin. The way he talked to you, voice low and strained—Whose pussy is this?

Every time these words repeat, your heart hammers in your chest. Tingles trickle out from between your legs and work up your spine.

The time before this, right after he moved in, when you fucked on the couch… you felt dirty afterwards. It sent you into a spiral of self-guilt that gnawed away at you for days. It reminded you of how sex was towards the end last time. Like you could have been anyone. Like he needed something to make him feel alive, and you were just the most ready and willing participant.

But it felt different this time.

Intimate in a way it hasn’t been in so long. It felt like an act of something bigger and stronger, like he needed you specifically. Not the rush of endorphins. Not just the heat of another person. Not a substitute for the love his wife wouldn’t give him. It felt like he needed you and nothing else would sate him.

“I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?”

Right about here is when indecision ties your brain off in a knot that seizes the production of valuable output.

Then you return to yourself, staring into the closet like it’s fucking Narnia, and slide the hanger aside to do it all over again.

—

Frankie collapses into a patio chair with a groan, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair before replacing his cap, then tilts his head up towards the blazing sun and closes his eyes.

When he trekked through the Andes with his team, there were nights where he felt the cold so deep in his bones, he wondered if he would ever be able to get warm again.

Right now is the opposite of that.

Right now he would give up fistfuls of cash to feel that bone-deep freeze.

He casts a longing glance at the cooler and fantasizes about drinking a cold beer. That psssch-ahsound it would make when he opened the tab. He imagines the condensation cooling his heated skin and the alcohol calming his fried nerves.

Fuck, that sounds perfect.

Through the open window to the dining room, he can hear Angie and her sister Marta gossiping to each other, talking about how so-and-so is dating what’s his face again and blah blah blah. His ears perk up when Marta segues into their personal life.

“Speaking of people getting back together… How are things with you and Frankie?”

Angie doesn’t say anything, but must make a face at her sister because she follows the question up by giggling, “What, can I not ask?”

“Ay, Marta. No seas metiche.”

A beat of silence passes. Marta must non-verbally pry, because Angie speaks again, quieter this time.

“We’ll see.” Then quickly, almost defensively, she adds, “He’s getting his act together, you know. He quit drinking, and he’s doing this parole program. It seems like… it seems like he’s trying.”

“Mmm. Is he still living with that girl? Su amante?”

Frankie knows Angie well enough to know she rolls her eyes in response.

Marta tsks, but any further conversation is cut off by a sudden commotion of squealing and bickering.

He looks down at his watch, reading 1240, and guesses that Angie’s friend Carmen arrived with her five children.

His eyes clamp shut and he fantasizes about drinking a beer. Maybe three. Hell, make it ten. Ten would do just fine. Ten would anesthetize him just enough to let him clear his head and make this whole ordeal manageable.

“Just get through today,” he tells himself, “Just one more goddamn day, then you can be done with this fucking charade.”

The backdoor opens, releasing a burst of chaotic noise. Angie and Carmen step out, and he stands at attention.

“Oh wow, look at all this,” Carmen tells Angie, “Damn girl, you really went all out, didn’t you?”

“We don’t really know what the situation will be next year, with Frankie and everything,” Angie’s eyes flick to him, and she shrugs, “So I figured, make it memorable. For all of us.”

“Sure,” Carmen nods, concern creasing her brow, then she acknowledges Frankie with a quick head-to-toe scan, “Francisco, how’re you doing?”

“Better than I deserve,” he smirks, and gestures to the gift bag hanging off her wrist, “Let me take that for you. Want anything to drink?”

She hands off the present and glances at Angie, then back to Frankie, “Can I get a beer?”

“Sure,” he nods to Angie, “How about you, amor?”

“I’ll take a beer, too.”

“Two beers coming up,” Frankie calls behind him while descending the stairs.

As he walks to the 10’ x 20’ white canopy tent, he tries to eavesdrop, but the two women talk to each other in hushed tones. He has no doubt it’s about him, though, because he hears Carmen exclaim, “Oh shit, really?” then, quieter but still distinguishable, “Good for you, mamá.”

After dropping the gift bag on the designated table, Frankie goes to the cooler to grab two cans of beer and a bottle of water, then returns to the deck, where Angie and Carmen both lean against the railing. They both murmur a thanks when he hands them their drinks.

He rubs between her shoulder blades, “Need anything else?”

“A fucking Xanax,” she jokes while cracking her beer open. He watches foam bubble up from the mouth of the can and his pulse surges green with envy. She takes a long sip, then sighs, “Mmm let’s see. Food is done, Mamá and Marta are bringing everything out. Your mom should be here with the cake any minute. You got everything set up in the tent?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, well,” she takes another swig and shrugs, “Wanna get the slip ‘n’ slide going? We can get the kiddos changed into their suits.”

“You got it.”

He starts away, but she grabs his shirt to stop him.

When he turns back to her, eyebrows raised in question, her golden brown eyes meet his, then drop to his lips, “Thank you.”

His hand finds her waist and he nods, “Not a problem.”

She kisses him, and he kisses her back, thinking of you—always fucking thinking of you— as he tells himself: One more day.

—

Leah picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me I shouldn’t go to this party.”

She releases a big sigh that makes you grimace, then says, “Tell me you’re not actually thinking of going.”

You glance up at the Morales residence through your windshield, sinking down into your seat when you spot Benny, Will, and Dani making their way up the driveway.

“I’m outside in my car.”

Leah is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Do you want to go?”

“Yes and no,” you watch the Millers open the door and go inside the house, “I want to see Sarah, and I wanna be there for Frankie, just because… I don’t know, everything, but…”

“But Angie?”

You nod, casting your eyes down to your hands to pick at the frayed cuticles, “I’m afraid she’s going to say something or do something to retaliate against me.”

“You did have an affair with her husband—”

“I’m well aware,” you snip.

The silence that follows wrings guilt from your stomach. A burning sensation works up your throat behind your eyes, so you pinch them shut and hang your head.

“Fuck, sorry. You’re right. She has every right to despise me. I deserve it. I shouldn’t go, it’s stupid.”

Your words come out all pathetic and warbled by tears, but you continue anyway.

“I feel so torn. I care about them a lot and I wanna be there. I want it to be better so that… fuck. I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“Why do you want it to be better?”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, I want you to tell me.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, tilting your head up towards the drooping ceiling of your car. The answer pulses through your body and tingles on the tip of your tongue. If you speak it you might shatter to dust.

Instead, you offer up a consolation prize to distract her.

“I did something I shouldn’t have,” you whisper, then swing your head down to stare at your steering wheel, “I… had sex with him.”

Leah snorts, “I fucking knew it.”

“Shut up, you did not,” you scoff, “It just happened this morning.”

“Rach owes me $10.”

“You bet that—God, you are the worst.”

You hang up on her, then stare at your phone for a few seconds before sending a text to Frankie.

< ME: < Are you sure I should come? I feel nervous

A few unresponsive seconds go by before you flip the visor down to inspect your reflection in the mirror. Not terrible. Some black smudges around your eyes. Could use some lipstick.

You remedy these problems while trying not to think too hard about what you’re about to do, lying to yourself in hopes that you can somehow warp the truth.

This will be fine.

—

By the time Frankie gets the hose hooked up to the slip ‘n’ slide, his mother- and sister-in-law are setting the last few food items out on the long folding table under the tent.

Two of Carmen’s sons dash across the deck in their swimsuits. As he passes them on the stairs, he ruffles the older one’s scraggly dark brown hair, calling after them, “Soda and water in the cooler if you boys are thirsty.”

They holler an acknowledgment as Frankie makes his way inside.

The relief of stepping into cool, conditioned air quickly dissipates as the commotion hits him.

At least a dozen conversations meld together in this wall of indistinguishable sound. He can’t quite focus on any of the vaguely familiar faces or isolate one single voice from the warble of people talking.

A heavy, frantic pounding starts in his chest. His hands start to tingle. Noises disappear completely for a second, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m losing it.

He pulls a chair out from the dining room table and sits down, praying nobody notices him clench his eyes closed to inhale a deep, wide breath.

Then another.

Everything starts to come back into focus, and he tunes into someone asking, “Fish, you ok?”

He startles when a broad palm settles between his shoulder blades. Looking towards the source, he finds Will’s dusty blue eyes studying him with concern.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, running a hand over his face before he clearing his throat and standing, “Sorry, yeah. Think I got too much heat or something.” He gives his friend a quick, one-armed hug, “Good to see you, man.”

When Will parts ways with Frankie, he gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it for a second, but doesn’t push the subject.

His wife, Dani, approaches with a cautious smile, “Frankie, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too” Frankie gives her a hug, “Thanks for coming.” They separate and he asks Will, “Benny here yet?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, jerking his head towards the living room, “Shooting the shit with your mom.”

“Figures,” Frankie chuckles and shakes his head, “I gotta go make my rounds, but, uhh,” he gestures from the gift box in the crook of Will’s arm to the back door, “There’s a gift table outside. Food and drinks and all that, help yourselves.”

“Catch up later, yeah?” Will nods.

Frankie mirrors the action as a few waist-high kids race past, budging in front of them when Will opens the door.

He notices a cluster of aimless partygoers lingering between the dining and living room, and starts directing the halted human traffic out to the backyard. It prods them into action, thinning out the crowded common area as he makes his way to the couch, where he finds his mom sitting with Sarah in her lap and Benny at her side. Benny says something to Sarah that makes her and her grandmother giggle.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Frankie asks, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

“Francisco!”

She passes Sarah to Benny and struggles to get to her feet.

“Christ, mamá, let me help you” he mutters while taking her well-worn hands in his to pull her upright.

She’s always been a woman of small stature, barely measuring up to his shoulders once the growth spurts petered out and left him as tall as he’d always be. But each time he sees her, she seems to have shrunk a little bit more.

As soon as she steadies herself, she kisses his cheek, then pulls him down into a surprisingly tight embrace, telling him, “I missed you so much, mijo.”

“Missed you too, Ma.”

She pulls back from the hug, but holds onto his arms to look him over, “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he nods, looking away when her keen dark eyes narrow, “What about you, hmm? How was the drive?”

“Bien bien,” she waves off his questions and takes a step back to smile at the birthday girl, “She’s getting so big, Pancho. Such a pretty dress.”

Sarah grabs at the puffy hem of her skirt and giggles at the attention.

Frankie snorts in admiration at his daughter, then asks her, “You wanna go see your party, princesa?”

“Yes!”

He looks at Benny, “I gotta see if Ang needs me to do anything, do you wanna…?”

“Escort these lovey ladies?” Benny winks at Julieta, “Shit, I’d love to.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie mutters, then tells Sarah, “Go with Uncle Benny, I’ll be there in a minute, ok?”

She jumps off Benny’s lap and runs to the back door, leveraging her weight against the knob. It swings open and she escapes, sending Benny chasing after her, laughing, “Hey, wait up!”

Julieta starts after them just as Sarah’s bedroom door opens, and two little girls come charging towards the back door. Carmen and Angie trail behind, the former carrying a baby tucked into her side, the latter looking around with a puzzled expression pasted to her face.

“Everyone outside?” Angie asks her husband, slowing to a stop a few feet away from him while Carmen continues outside.

“Yeah. I, uhh, got the slip ‘n’ slide set up, all the food is out—anything else you need me to do?”

“Is your girl here?”

She smirks and tilts her head at him, like she’s joking or teasing, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes.

His skittish heart skips in his chest.

Sensing a trap, Frankie searches her face and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

Angie raises an eyebrow at him, “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

So fucking sick of this.

“Whatever,” he blinks, “No. I haven’t seen her yet. Anything else?”

The forced amusement immediately drops from her face and she stomps outside, slamming the door closed behind her.

He takes a deep breath, pulling his hat up to run a hand through his hair, then glances at his watch.

1308

He shakes some of the nervous energy from his fingertips and starts to pace the living room.

What if you decided not to come?

Honestly, it would make today much easier. He could just go out there and play his role. Put on his mask and blame his disposition on the ongoing legal battle. His mother, wife, and friends, they’d be none the wiser.

Something inside him lurches at the thought.

Suddenly and very clearly, he understands that if you don’t show, nothing will change. He will drive this ship into the ground.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

He jogs down the steps, swings the door open, and there you are, wearing a pretty floral sundress and a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he backs up to allow you entry.

“Hi,” your smile grows wider, and you step past him as you enter the house, “Long time no see.”At the foot of the stairs, you turn to face him, “Where’s the party?”

“Backyard.”

“Oh.”

When you glance down at his mouth, one hundred butterflies start chittering away at his stomach. He licks his lips and notices himself gravitating towards you. It doesn’t help that you’re doing it, too. The subtle way your body bows in his direction, inching so close he can smell the bright burst of your perfume and the damp musk of your sweat.

“Is everyone out there?”

“Pretty sure,” his eyes flick to the vacant upstairs, then back to you, “Why?”

Just an inch away, you clamp a grin closed and shrug, “No reason.”

“Uh huh,” he raises an eyebrow, daring to rest his hand on your waist. The contact floods his body with a hot, thudding pulse he can taste.

Searching his face, you slide your palm over his heart. Beneath your touch, the muscle pounds at its seams.

Against his better judgment, he leans in to capture your lips in his. Warmth spreads out from his chest through his limbs. You hook a hand behind his neck and pull him closer, your body curving flush against his.

Only hours have gone by since he last saw you, but it feels like months. It’s like that with you. Timeless when you’re together and an eternity when you’re apart.

Pulling back, you look at the floor and shake your head, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“We shouldn’t, umm,” you swallow hard, shaking your head again as you glance upstairs, “Here, now, you know…”

He glances at the back door, “You’re right. We should get to the party.“

“Yeah,” you take a big step back and clear your lungs with a deep breath, then hold up your gift bag, “Where should I put this?”

“Right this way—”

“Wait, look at me,” you chuckle, tugging at his hand.

He faces you, asking, “What?”

You cup his cheek and lick the pad of your thumb, bringing it to his bottom lip, “Lipstick.”

Your brow furrows in concentration, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth as you scrub off the evidence.

It’s kind of adorable, the way in which you do this. Doting, almost. Reminds him of the times Mamá would catch him with a dirty face in public and try to make him more presentable.

Briefly, he pictures you as the matriarch of a rowdy crew of children. Driving a minivan to school drop-offs and extracurricular activities and family outings. It suits you.

He can’t stop his lips from curving into a smile.

“What?” you grin, eyes flicking to his.

“Nothing,” he murmurs as you tilt his face around and inspect him. “Better?”

“Better,” you nod, “How about me?”

He pinches your chin and looks you over, correcting a smudge before telling you, “All clear. You ready?”

You give a half-hearted shrug, looking around at the ground, then ask, “Your wife isn’t gonna like… yell at me in front of everyone or pelt me with produce, right? This isn’t an elaborate revenge prank?”

“Is that what all the tomatoes are for? Shit,” he teases, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. “No, but really. She agreed to be nice.”

“Ok,” you nod, “So I’m like allowed to talk to you and everything without worrying she’ll try to murder me?”

Frankie snorts, “She wouldn’t murder you—”

“She has literally told me ‘I will fucking kill you.’”

“That was—” he shakes his head, then brings his hands to your shoulders and stares into your eyes, “It’s gonna be fine, mariposa. We’re gonna go bullshit with people and eat some food, and then we’re gonna home and watch a stupid fucking movie. Ok?”

You laugh, dropping your gaze for a moment before returning with a bashful smile, “Ok.”

—

As you make your way down the food table, piling tamales and Spanish rice and fresh fruit on a flimsy paper plate, you feel eyes on the back of your head. Whether it’s just one set or ten, you don’t care to know, but the feeling sends a shiver up your spine.

When you reach the end of the line, you take a deep breath before turning to find a place to sit.

Like every other party, the crowd is mostly separated into cliques.

Parents from around the neighborhood stick together at a few long tables, bribing their children to eat and drink water before returning to the slip-n-slide. At another table sits Angie’s family, including the queen herself, whose pointed stare you gloss over, ignoring her and Frankie at her side. You find some familiar faces at a table near the edge of the big party tent: Benny, Will, and Dani. With them is a small, elderly woman who must be Frankie’s mom or an aunt or something, due to the striking resemblance.

The whole thing reminds you of choosing a place to sit in your high school cafeteria. Much like you did in those days, you gravitate towards an empty table nearby, but halt when some calls your name.

Frowning, you look around to find Benny waving at you.

“Over here,” he pulls out the chair beside him.

You approach with a smile, the tension held in your shoulders dissolving just a little as you take the open seat and greet everyone.

“Thanks. I didn’t know if, umm… it was ok,” you chuckle nervously and drop your eyes to your plate, shaking your head.

“Oh, come on now, you’re always welcome with us,” Benny grins, leaning back in his chair to reveal the tiny graying woman on the other side of him, “Have you met Frankie’s mom, Julieta?”

“I have not,” you reach across Benny to shake her hand, “Good to meet you, I’m—”

She waves you off and pushes her chair out behind her. You half-expect her to furiously walk away at your presence, but instead she wobbles over to you and holds her arms open.

“I know who you are. Come here, mija.”

You stand to accept the invitation, stammering out, “Oh—ok—”

Emotion wells up in your chest when her bony arms squeeze tight around you and she tells you, “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

Not sure what to say, you just hug her back for a few long seconds. The embrace says it all. It feels maternal and earnest and brings a few tears to your eyes. When she pulls away and smiles at you, you notice she’s a little misty-eyed, too, and you smile back at her. She gives your cheek a few pats before you both return to your seats.

“How’ve you been?” Dani asks.

You contemplate the question long enough for Benny to interject.

“Well, she’s keeping Fish out of trouble so I’m sure she’s having a hell of a time.”

You shrug, “It’s nothing compared to some of the toddlers I’ve had to deal with.”

Your audience chuckles, then awaits a follow up.

“No, I, umm… I’m doing ok. Going through a breakup, so that’s tough, but… mostly I’m good.”

Why did I say that?

“A breakup?” Benny leans back and drapes an arm over the back of your chair, “What happened?”

“Oh, we don’t have to—” you laugh at your plate, stabbing a chunk of watermelon.

“Come on, give us the dirt,” Benny prods.

You shove the watermelon in your mouth and wrinkle your nose at him, shaking your head.

“Let the girl have some privacy,” Dani scolds, “If she doesn’t wanna talk about it, she doesn’t wanna talk about it.”

“If she didn’t wanna talk about it she wouldn’t’ve mentioned it,” he counters.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t even a big deal. We were only dating for a few weeks and it wasn’t a good match,” you explain, glancing around the table, “I don’t know why I said it, sorry, I’m just, umm… nervous.”

You notice Will studying you and hold his meticulous gaze for a moment before dropping your eyes to your plate. He speaks up then, drawing the fire away from you.

“Hey, that’s alright. Not like Benny has room to criticize,” he gives his brother a lopsided grin, “Remember that girl that tried to stab you?”

“Not this again,” Benny groans.

“Ok well now you have to tell me,” you say, flashing a grateful smile to Will before nudging Benny, “Come on, give me the dirt.”

“Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm about it.” He visibly shifts into storytelling mode, sitting up straighter as a glint of mischief sparks in his eyes, “First of all, I had no business dating her to begin with. She had a PT Cruiser with whiskey plates. If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is.”

—

Trying to be a halfway decent host, Frankie makes his way around the party checking in with people, introducing himself to all the unfamiliar faces and making small talk, recycling the same lines.

Drinks are in the cooler if you’re thirsty. Thanks for coming. I’m doing great, how about you?

Meanwhile, Ang seems to have taken on his former role as the champion beer drinker of the party. Every time he glances at her she’s either guzzling it down or popping open a new aluminum can.

When she and Carmen start directing slip ‘n’ slide traffic and seem sufficiently distracted, he walks up to the table where some of his favorite people are seated and takes the open chair next to Will.

“Look who it is,” Will smirks at him, “We were just talking about you.”

“Christ, do I wanna know?” he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“Probably not, I was talking mad shit about you,” you tease, looking at him with a grin that makes his heart swell.

“Figures you would be,” he shoots back.

You chuckle and shake your head, “No, actually I was just telling them about how I’m teaching you to cook.”

“Oh yeah,” he looks around the table, “Did you tell them about the stir-fry?”

“Ok, you tried with the stir-fry and it was almost edible—”

“Almost edible?” Benny laughs

“Somehow the rice was both undercooked and burnt, and the veggies were mush,” you share, sitting up taller when you meet his eyes, “But it could’ve been worse. You’re learning!”

“I’m just impressed you could get him in the kitchen in the first place,” Benny says, then turns his attention to Julieta, “Mamá, you didn’t make him cook anything growing up?”

She tsks and waves him off, then explains, “His father wouldn’t let me. He was very traditional, you know, said it was women’s work.“

“It’s ok, Ma,” Frankie assures her.

“I am glad you’re learning now.” A smile stretches across her face, “You must be grateful to have such a good teacher.”

“I am, really,” he nods and glances at you before admitting, “I’d be a fucking mess without her.”

Everyone at the table seems to sit with this information in silence for a moment before Will clears his throat and asks, “Are you still working on that car?”

Frankie leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Here and there. Lately it’s just been collecting dust.”

“Mind if I check it out?” Will inquires, “It’s been, what, a year and a half since I’ve seen it?”

“Sure,” he frowns, looking over at you and your creased brow as if seeking permission, at which point you give a shrug, then he squints up across the yard and spots Angie talking to her mom and dad. “Let me just tell Ang so she doesn’t lose her shit if she can’t find me.”

The three men stand from the table. Frankie gives you one more glance before starting off towards his wife. With each step he takes across the grass, he wishes more and more that he could kiss you again. Give you reassurance that you’re doing great in this precarious situation.

Angie’s father glares at him as he approaches, which isn’t abnormal. Angie follows his line of sight, wobbling a bit as she lays eyes on him. Surprisingly, she smiles, “Hey!”

“Hey—”

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, the action so unexpected he stumbles back a step. Her lips taste of beer and poor judgment. When he pulls away, he plasters on a fake grin and says, “The guys wanna look at the car, is it ok if I slip away for a few?”

“You boys and your toys,” she rolls her eyes, “Fine, just be back for presents in a couple minutes, yeah?”

“Alright,” he searches over her shoulder, “How’s Sarah doing?”

“Good, good,” she nods, “She’s playing with Carm’s kids in the sandbox.”

“Make sure she gets some water, I don’t think she drank any with—”

“She’s fine, Francisco. I’ve got it,” she insists, patting his chest.

He studies her for a moment, then says, “Ok, I’ll be back in a minute. We’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

“Give me a kiss,” Angie demands, her long nails scraping at the nape of his neck. He leans in and presses his lips to hers, feeling nothing but irritation and disgust.

—

When Frankie and the Miller brothers disappear into the house, so does your social armor, leaving you exposed.

For a while you make scattered small talk with Julieta and Dani, discussing Sarah and the party and the weather. You watch Sarah play with her friends from a distance, not wanting to disrupt their sand castle building by approaching. Every once in a while, your eyes cheat to Angie.

A vile, familiar sensation sits heavy in your stomach.

He warned you that it might be difficult seeing them together, but you forgot how bad it hurts to witness.

The way she kissed him doesn’t help. Hanging off him, looking at him with bedroom eyes.

It’s not the same this time. He’s different now.

The foul thing in your belly goes dead weight, making you lurch.

What if he’s not?

Before you can spiral too much, you hear, “Chacha!” and realize Sarah is running towards you

“Hi, pumpkin!” you smile and outstretch your arms to catch her as she slams into you.

“I’m not a pumpkin, I’m just a girl,” she giggles.

“Are you having fun at your party?”

She grunts out an “mhmm” while you pull her up onto your lap. Her face is flushed, skin all heated and damp with sweat.

“You look like you’re hot, do you want some water?”

“Um. Ok!” she smiles.

“Ok let me get you—”

“I got it,” Dani stands and starts towards the cooler.

You murmur a thanks and return your attention to Sarah, “Thank you for letting me come to your party. I’m having so much fun.”

She giggles in response, leaning into you.

“How are you liking daycare? Do you get to play with your friends?”

She nods.

Dani returns with a cold water bottle, twisting the cap open before handing it to you.

“Here you go, sweetie,” you bring the bottle to her lips and slowly tip it back as she takes big gulps of water. Periodically, you pull it away and let her catch her breath, then start again until she pushes it away.

“Better?”

“Much better,” she nods.

“Maybe she should go inside and cool down for a minute?” Dani suggests.

Julieta leans over to feel her forehead, “Too much sun, hija.”

“Do you wanna go inside for a minute?” You ask, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Chacha will you go with me?”

“You want me to—oh, um… should we ask your mom…?” You frown at Dani, who grimaces, then Julieta.

“Just take her,” Julieta insists, “I’ll tell Angelica if she comes looking.”

“Ok. Ok sure. Let’s go, sweetie.”

You rise from the chair, sliding Sarah to your hip, then carry her up the stairs into the house. Once inside, you sit on the couch with her for a few seconds before she wriggles away and scampers off down the hallway.

“Chacha come see my room!”

“Oh my fucking god,” you whisper under your breath, glancing nervously up at the back door before following her, “Ok, but just for a minute, then we should go back out to the party.”

—

“Are you seriously calling him?” Frankie blinks, leaning back against the workbench.

Will shoots him a look while raising the phone to his ear.

“Unbelievable. It’s like six o’clock in the morning there, you’re gonna wake—”

“Hey Pope, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Will presses a button and sets the phone down next to Frankie, “Now I want Fish to tell you what he just told me and Benny.”

Gnashing his jaw back and forth, he stares at Will, then Benny. They both watch him expectantly while Santi speaks up, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

Frankie clears his throat and rubs his mouth before saying, “I’m gonna ask Ang for a divorce.”

“Oh shit, ok.”

Will prods Frankie further, “Tell him the other part.”

“Will you just—Fuck, ok. I’m… seeing someone.”

On the other line, Santi chuckles a little, “Uh-huh.“

“Any guesses on who that might be?” Benny asks.

“Oh, I have one—”

“Wait wait wait, let me give you a hint,” Benny grins while scrolling through his phone, pushing off the hood of the car to grandstand, “On June 10–only seven weeks ago, mind you—Fish said about her, and I quote: It’s not like that, we’re only friends. To which you said—”

“—I said bull-fucking-shit!” Santi finishes, then howls, “That is fucking delicious, thank you.”

Frankie crosses his arms and shakes his head at Will, “See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell him.”

“How long?” Santi asks.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

“It’s… complicated, ok?”

Benny giggles and repeats, “Oh, it’s complicated.”

Santi questions further, “Sure, well, let me ask you this: How long have you been in love with her?”

“Why does it matter?”

“You do, though, right? You love her?”

Frankie crosses his arms and glares at the phone, “Yeah.”

“When did that happen?”

Heat flares through his veins. He wrings his neck and mutters, “That’s a stupid question.”

“Why’s it stupid?”

“Cuz, Pope, that’s like… that’s like asking how long ago mankind came to exist. Or asking what point a chrysalis becomes a butterfly. I don’t fucking know, man, it just does. I just know that I do, I love her, and I have for… a while.”

The two men before him are silent, along with the voice on the phone. Frankie, on the other hand, finds momentum in his confession. He continues.

“And Ang… Jesus Christ, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this with her. And the longer I think about it, the more I convince myself I never did. Not this way, like I can’t live without her, you know?” He taps his fingers against his lips, then shrugs, “Maybe I could have at one point, if I tried. But even then… I don’t like who I am when I’m with her. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m wearing someone else’s skin and it doesn’t fit me.”

He glances up at Benny, then Will. Their faces are somber, but understanding. Benny approaches, leaning on the workbench beside him to rope an arm around his shoulders and give him a supportive squeeze.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Will asks.

“Soon. Not today, but this week probably.“

Benny withdraws his touch and crosses his arms in front of his chest, “She’ll go right for the jugular. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Frankie takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair, then puts it back, “She’s gonna try to take Sarah. Fuck, I’m gonna need another goddamn lawyer, aren’t I?”

“Can you afford that right now?” Will furrows his brow, studying him, “Be honest.”

“Probably. Well, maybe. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but is now the right time? You’re on parole and looking to add felony charges to your wrap sheet. Not to mention the infidelity. On paper, your custody case is shit.”

Frankie shakes his head, “If I have to keep living like this… all this lying and pretending… I don’t know, man. I can’t do it anymore. Something inside me is about to break. I can feel it.”

The Millers exchange a look.

“I don’t think I’m speaking out of line by saying we all just want what’s best for you, Fish,” the voice over the phone tells him, “We want you to be happy. If you need to get out, get out.”

Frankie glances up at Will, who nods in confirmation.

“Thanks. It-it means a lot to me,” he shifts his weight to one leg, looking down at his wristwatch, “We better get back to the party. Talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santi says, “Hang in there, buddy.”

After hanging up the phone, Will gives Frankie a pat on the shoulder, “We’ve got your back.”

As they file out of the garage into the entryway, Angie walks out from the bathroom. When she notices them climbing the steps, she calls, “Hi boys.”

To his credit, Benny puts on a convincing smile and greets her with a high five, “What’s up, Angie?”

She steps aside to let him pass, then fixes her glassy eyes on Will, “How’s the carcocha looking?”

“Better than the last time we saw it,” Will shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at Frankie, “Just needs a little TLC.”

“Needs to go to the scrapyard if you ask me,” she snorts and tilts her head at her husband as he reaches the top of the stairs, “Hey handsome.”

He gives her a half-hearted smirk, then frowns, “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s fine, still playing. Francisco,” she tugs on his shirt, so he comes to a stop.

Jesus Christ, her breath smells like a brewery.

His eyes flick to the Millers stalled at the back door. After waving at them to clear out, he raises his eyebrows at Angie, “What?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Sure, what?”

Instead of answering him outright, she takes his hand and leads him down the hallway. His stomach twists with understanding when she pulls him through the doorway towards the bed.

“If you wanna lay down for a bit, I can take care of every—”

She turns to face him, placing her palms on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders, “I want you to fuck me, Francisco.”

“Ang,” he chuckles with exasperation, shaking his head, “We have a backyard full of guests here, come on.”

“They’re all having fun, no one will notice.” She takes his hand and guides it to her face, gently folding down all his finger but the index and pouts, “Please, Frankie.”

He swallows a groan when she wraps her full lips around his digit and sucks. The wet hot plush of her mouth makes his eyelids flutter and weakens his resolve.

“I don’t think—”

She pulls his finger from her mouth like a lollipop and bats her eyelashes at him, cooing, “Don’t you wanna fuck me like you did the other night? Didn’t that feel good?”

“Well, yeah—”

“We can be quick.”

As she reaches for his belt, something moves at the edge of his vision.

“Mommy, Daddy!”

He looks at the doorway to find Sarah in the hall, holding one penguin toy in each of her pudgy toddler fists. A big, toothy grin spreads across her face and she giggles, galloping into the room.

Thankful for the diversion, Frankie smiles and takes a big step away from his wife, crouching down to ask Sarah, “Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing in here?”

“Showing Chacha my penguins,” she tells him, holding up her toys, “This one is an emperor penguin, and this one is a macaroni penguin!”

“Chacha?”

Something inside him drops to the floor. He looks up and sees you emerge from Sarah’s room. You pause briefly in the hallway, glancing at Angie before meeting his gaze. The pained look on your face rips his heart in two.

“I, umm…” you stammer, dropping your eyes to the floor and shaking your head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just—leaving. There’s a thing and-and I have to go.”

With this, you flee down the hall, then the stairs, your footsteps still echoing heavy in his head while the front door slams shut.

—

“Whiskey coke?”

You look up from the bar top’s glossy wood finish to give Bubba a nod.

“Ain’t seen you around here in a while,” he comments while scooping ice into a glass.

“Yeah.”

It surprises you a little, how hoarse your voice sounds. A self-awareness passes over you and you straighten your spine, glancing around the bar before digging a compact mirror from your purse. By the time you finish rubbing the bleeding mascara from your swollen eyes, Bubba is placing your drink in front of you.

You exchange the mirror for your wallet, but when you fish out your card and hold it out to Bubba, he shakes his head.

“On the house.”

“What, do I get the sad sap discount?”

He chuckles a little at this, then shrugs, “If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“Thanks.”

Leaning forward onto the bar, you pull the glass closer, then stab the ice with your straw a few times. Little bubbles of carbonation fizzle up to the surface and release the gassy scent of rail whiskey. Nostalgia sours your stomach.

“Everything alright?”

A deep ache branches out from the weight beneath your sternum and curls around your shoulders. Every cell in your body feels heavy and burdensome.

Staring at the glass, you shake your head.

“I’m all ears if you wanna talk about it.”

“It’s a long, messy story.”

“I got time.”

You glance up at him, studying his concerned expression, and sigh, “You know that guy who meets me here sometimes? Brown hair, usually wearing a hat? Started a fight that one time?”

“The vet?”

“Yeah,” you nod and swallow down the thickness in your throat, then tell him, “We’ve been off and on for years. He’s, umm… he’s married. I was their nanny when it started. I fell in love with him. He made it clear he didn’t feel the same and he wouldn’t leave his wife, but I kept seeing him because I’m an idiot.”

“Sounds like you kept seeing him because you loved him, not because you’re an idiot,” Bubba observes.

“Same difference,” you shrug and tilt your head at your drink, “He’s an alcoholic. After his wife caught us fucking, he went off the rails completely. Still kept seeing him even though he kept me at an arm’s length and drank himself dumb every night. The thing is… I never believed him when he said he couldn’t love me like I loved him. I felt it, and I thought…”

Tingles work up your throat behind your eyes, and everything becomes blurry as you choke out a sob.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s ok.”

You shake your head and wipe away your tears, but they keep coming.

“I thought if I kept loving him he would see how good it could be and come around. I thought he would admit to himself that he does love me like I love him. I wanted that with him so bad, I just couldn’t fucking let go. Then, umm…”

You clear your throat and take a deep, shaky breath.

“I had to give him an ultimatum. Her or me. He picked her. I cut it off and tried to move on with my life. He called me a few months ago from jail and asked me to bail him out. I got roped into being his custodian while he’s on parole, so he’s been living with me. We agreed not to get involved in, umm, that way again.

“He’s been sober and opening up emotionally while working through this shit. It’s been really hard. But it’s also been good, you know, because we’ve had to hash out all these problems that we’ve ignored for years. I’ve been able to see the real him, and… I love him more than I ever have.”

“Uh-huh,” Bubba raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms above his beer belly, “So what happened that’s got you in a fuss? He still doesn’t love you back?”

The question pierces your heart.

Your voice balances a tightrope as you confess, “I thought he did. I really did this time, I was so fucking certain. He promised he would fix it, that we could be together—and I fucking believed him—”

Waves of emotion swell in your chest and flood your eyes with hot tears. You fold forward, burying your face in your hands, releasing sob after sob as you replay the last two months in your head and wonder how you could be so fucking stupid to think it was real.

The world around you melts away until it’s just you and that dense, pulsing pain. Like it’s always been. Like it always will be.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to help him. It doesn’t matter that you love him more than anything else in this world. It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters, because he doesn’t love you and he never will.

A hand rests on your shoulder blades and pulls you back to reality. So lost in your self-pity, you didn’t notice Bubba come around the bar to console you. You sit up and wipe your eyes, mumbling out an apology.

“It’s fine, darlin’. Can I do anything to help?”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’ll be ok.”

“You sure?”

You inhale a shattered breath and give him a weak smile, “Fifty-fifty.”

He furrows his brow and studies you for a moment before nodding, then taking a step back.

As he makes his way back to his side of the bar, you stare at your drink. A fat droplet of moisture rolls down the thick condensation lining the glass and gets swallowed up by the cardboard coaster beneath.

You wish you could forget about him.

You wish you could feel nothing.

You wish you could hurt him the way he’s hurt you.

So, you pluck out the straw, raise the cup to your lips, and start drinking.

—

The setting sun paints the wispy clouded sky above a brilliant shade of orange. Beneath his feet, the soles of Frankie’s shoes scuff against the driveway. He glances down at his mom, with her arm hooked in his, and says, “Thanks for coming out, Mamá. I hope you had a good time.”

“It was a very nice party, mijo.”

She gives him this stifled polite smile like she’s holding something back. So he prods her.

“What?”

She waves him off, “Nada nada.”

“Come on, Ma.”

They come to a stop at the driver’s side door of her car and turn to face each other. She studies him a moment, then gives in with a huff, “You have been like this all afternoon. Why?”

“Like what?”

“So stormy.”

He deflates, “Don’t worry about it.”

Her lips purse as she tilts her head at him. The ‘don’t make me smack you’ look.

“It’s messy, mom. How I’m feeling,” he wrings a hand behind his neck and shrugs, “I don’t know. Everything is a mess and it’s all my fault.”

“All your fault how? Did something happen?”

“No—well,” he catches himself, swallows, then corrects, “Yeah. I did something bad. And I lied about it. Then I got caught in the lie, and, you know…”

She nods slowly, waiting for more.

“I think I might be a bad person.”

Her expression softens when Frankie says it. She cups his cheeks and stares straight into his soul. Suddenly, he’s five years old all over again, Mamá comforting his bruised heart.

“There is a good man inside you. I know him well because he’s my son. Let him be brave.”

He absorbs this for a moment, then croaks, “Ok.”

“Give me a hug.”

He hunches over to hug her, burying his face in her neck, “Quiero mucho, mamá.”

“Yo a ti,” she squeezes him, then pulls back and asks, “Will you call me tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

He waits for her to get in her car and drive away before returning to the house. Inside, he finds Sarah and Benny reading a book on the couch, while the siren song of the party still roaring out back rubs at his nerves.

Frankie pulls out his phone to confirm you, predictably and rightfully, did not respond to his messages or calls. Reconciling with you will be a fucking nightmare. Going home to face the consequences seems less appealing with each passing second.

He starts to consider other options.

He could stay and drink. Join the party. Doubtful that Angie or any of her people would give a shit. Hell, they would probably encourage him.

Better yet, he could stay and drink by himself in the garage. There’s enough booze laying around, nobody would notice if he drained a bottle or two in order to reach that blissful numb.

He plops down on the couch next to Sarah and brings his attention to Benny’s reading.

“—‘Now stop!’ Max said and sent the wild things off to bed without their supper. And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.

But the wild things cried, ‘Oh please don’t go—we’ll eat you up—we love you so!’ And Max said, ‘No!’ The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye… and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day… and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him… and it was still hot.”

Benny flips the paperback closed and looks down at Sarah, who yawns and rubs her eyes, then to her father.

“Still want that ride home?”

Frankie considers this for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Let me put her to bed and talk to Ang, then we can take off.”

#designated person #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales angst #x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic

194 notes · View notes

astoryisaloveaffair · 1 month

Text

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

Spotify Playlist

»»———————►

Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood.

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye. The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees. The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane.

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later.

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead.

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?”

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them.

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks.

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.”

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide.

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now.

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her. “How could you?”

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips.

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life.

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself.

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes.

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it.

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to?

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends.

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence.

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him?

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

91 notes · View notes

magpiepills · 21 days

Text

The Run

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Santi García x f reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: quick lil threesome with your hot roomies.

Warnings: PIV, oral (f receiving), fucklicking, creampies, FWBs, men kissing, reader can run,

A word from the author: another repost! I wrote this for my little dumplin @legendary-pink-dot a long time ago. I love you, my little honey bunch.

Fresh and dressed, you went to say goodnight, but Frankie beckoned you to join them. It was a movie you’d been wanting to see, and Santi was already rewinding to the beginning. It didn’t take much for them to convince you, so you squeezed between them in the middle seat, the only seat left. You watched in silence for a few minutes, and were already engrossed. It was no wonder you missed the look that passed between the two men.

You barely noticed as they shifted slightly, after all, you were in the middle and they were both big, broad men. You were good friends, and generous with physical affection. Frankie moved first, sinking lower in the cushion and spreading his knees wide. He pulled your leg over his and rubbed your knee. He’s done it plenty of times before. Santiago adjusted his position, turning his body towards yours and draping one arm behind you along the back of the couch, leaning close to point out a small detail about the scene that was on. His voice was low and his lips brushed your ear when he spoke, you felt his eyes on you, searching your face for a sign that you might be on to him. You were comfortably oblivious, wrapped up in the plot and the sensation of Frankie’s big hands smoothing their way just a tiny bit further up your thigh than was strictly necessary.

During a lull in dialogue, Santi leaned in again, this time placing a heavy hand on the thigh closest to him, giving it a squeeze that made you suddenly, acutely aware of your position, how snugly situated you were between Frankie and Santi, how neither of them were watching the movie, how their hands worked in tandem, easing you into a state of relaxed arousal before you even realized it.

Santiago’s words in your ear became his lips on your neck, and Frankie’s hand on your hip, rubbing tender circles into the newly exposed skin there while he eased your leg further into his lap and against his now turgid member. In a matter of moments the movie was forgotten and there were six hands rubbing, groping, squeezing and tugging at fabric until all three of you were naked and you were spread across Santi’s lap, knees hooked over his, while Frankie was on his knees between your legs doing what Frankie does best.

“Tell me how she tastes, Fish,” Pope sounded a bit jealous. Frankie was generous, though and after a few moments, Frankie leaned up to give Santi a taste, pressing his plump lumps to his best friend’s waiting mouth. Santi’s cock grew even harder behind you and he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, querida, can I fuck you now?”

“Yes, Santi, please. Need you.”

You were already so close to your climax under Frankie’s expert tongue. He had looped a circuit from your entrance to your clit, through your folds and back again, using the kind of practiced precision that could have had you trembling in minutes flat if he had wanted it.

Frankie licked a broad stripe up your slit before stopping to help guide Santiago’s thick head into your needy pussy, rubbing your clit with his thumb and showering you and his friend with praise as he watched from just inches away.

“Taking his cock so good, sweetheart. That’s it. You’re so wet, look at you dripping for us. Your pussy was made for us, wasn’t it?”

Santi’s hands were on your hips, holding you carefully so he could work his thick length into you slowly. You had one hand tangled in Santiago’s thick curls, and one on his muscular thigh, digging your nails in just enough to leave faint crescent moons, a souvenir for tomorrow.

“Fuck, you look so good.” Frankie resumed his lascivious pattern, with the added effect of the vibration he made as he moaned into your pussy and a wet tongue over the base of his best friend's cock right where he entered you.

Santi squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head back against the cushions, overwhelmed with the tight squeeze of your cunt and the velvet of Frankie’s tongue. He breathed deeply, trying to relax and not come too soon, a fucking monumental task.

He palmed your tits, with one hand now, and set a steady rhythm with his thrusts, determined to feel you come first.

You were in a state of bliss, all of your nerve endings firing at once, unable to form coherent sentences or even thoughts. You heard yourself moaning their names, but it was more of a reflex than a choice as you barreled toward your climax. Both men noticed how close you were and while Santi drove as deep into you as he could, he rasped encouragement and flattery into your neck.

“That's it, feel your pussy squeezing me so tight, so good for us, come on my cock. Let me feel it, please. I gotta feel you coming for me.” He called to Frankie, “Francisco, she’s close. Finish her. Make her come, Frankie.” He sounded wrecked. He pleaded for your release as if it was his own.

Frankie was achingly hard, having denied his own pleasure to give you and Pope yours. He doubled his efforts, now, sucking your clit between his lips and swirling his tongue around the swollen bud, humming against it, sending the vibration straight through you.

It was a tidal wave. Your orgasm spread out from your core and reverberated through your whole body. Santi wasn’t far behind, spilling into you, with a shout. Frankie watched, mesmerized and wracked with lust. He gave you and Santi a moment to float back down from your orgasms, then joined you on the couch, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips and mustache. It was so erotic to have them both like this, feeling them, hearing them, seeing them, even smelling them right now was enough to give you a second wind.

You realized suddenly how painfully hard Frankie must be, and you reached to gently stroke his gigantic cock. He really did have a beautiful cock.

“Frankie, let me take care of you.”

You were tender with him, he loved when you took control, letting him shut off the part of his brain that made decisions. While you moved to straddle Frankie, Santi went after towels and water. He returned a few moments later, unable to keep his hands off of either of you. He kneeled next to his friend and murmured to you in Spanish that only Frankie understood, earning him hungry looks.

He kissed your neck, stroked your back, and gently urged you to take Frankie’s cock. “Look how he needs to feel you. Let him feel how tight you are. You can take him. Let him make you feel good.” His voice was a potion. You leaned into Frankie’s wet kiss, feeling and tasting yourself on the soft bristle of his mustache while his wide hands were busy lifting and squeezing your breasts, wordlessly expressing his desperate need for relief.

You lifted your hips enough for Santi to reach between your legs. He squeezed your thigh, kissing your shoulder with reverence and affection before grasping Frankie’s generous cock, giving it two delicate strokes before lining him up at your entrance. It was a group effort to work your cum soaked channel slowly down until he was fully seated inside you. You’d never felt filled so completely.

Santiago was well endowed, but Frankie exceeded him in length and girth just enough to make you feel full in ways you’d never felt before. It was glorious. Frankie’s lips fell open in a silent cry, doing all he could to resist fucking up into you, chasing his release, seeing you above him, feeling you all around him, looking into his best friend’s eyes as he spoke to him sweetly in their shared language, he wanted to move

“Cariño, please. Please, you've got to move. Please.” You didn’t expect him to be begging so soon. You set a slow pace, bouncing just a little on his cock, as if in slow motion. Frankie exhaled hard through his nose and you moved a little faster, slid further up his shaft with every lift. He furrowed his brow in concentration, and you moved faster, moaned louder, called his name

“Frankie! Oh, fuck, Frankie. So big, baby.”

You rolled your hips hard against the coarse hair above his cock, building yourself back up again just so Frankie could tip you over the edge once more. You pushed each other toward your orgasms, focusing on each other’s pleasure. You needed him to come inside you, and nothing made Frankie come like seeing you flushed and panting on his cock. He was close, he pulled you against his chest, holding you tight in his strong arms, groaning into your tits, finding your stiff nipple to suck and roll between his lips, letting one hand slide down your ass to press you down harder. That’s all it took. The wave crashed against you once more, making your hips jerk, setting off a chain reaction that sent Frankie over the edge of his own orgasm.

“Fuck. Ohh fuck…”

He thrust up as far as he could and filled you with his thick white release, commingling it with Santi’s spend, a feeling you never expected to feel, let alone treasure like this.

In the quiet moments following the threesome that you had not expected on a Tuesday night, the three of you settled back into companionable chatter, passing water bottles and snuggling happily on the couch like you hadn’t just acted out a pornographic scene. Showers were taken (and re-taken) and goodnight hugs and kisses given. Santi, Frankie, and you all retired to your own rooms, but before sleep could envelop you, you heard your door creak and felt your mattress dip behind you.

“Scoot over, cariño. I want to sleep with you tonight.”

You gave him one last sleepy kiss. “Goodnight, Frankie.”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #bat writes #smut #frankie x santi x you #frankie morales x santiago garcia #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #santiago pope garcia #santi garcia #santi garcia x reader

82 notes · View notes

for-a-longlongtime · 3 months

Text

About shooting Triple Frontier, singing Moana songs on set, and The Hat

(disclaimer: this post includes some pap shots at the end, sorry. I'm conflicted about sharing them, even though these are really old at this point, but just given you a heads up in case you want to skip it - I've cropped them to show the hat on Oscar)

I've been meaning to make a post about this sooner, because a while ago I came across the Happy Sad Confused podcast (2019) where Oscar talks about shooting Triple Frontier - and it had some interesting things in it that weren't in the group promo for the movie. E.g. he talks about how he has videos of Pedro and Garrett singing Moana songs while holding assault rifles, "that's quite a bit of a mindfuck" (that tracks, I remember Bella talking about singing Moana songs with Pedro on the TLOU set).

About making the characters their own and bringing the story to the screen:

"There was not a ton of dialogue or backstory that you get to see about these guys. So there was an element of how do you show these people, how do you not make them anonymous? That didn't necessarily just jump out of the page. So a lot of that is trusting JC, and particularly trusting him in the edit. That's where he just, he really shines a lot - you can feel and trust that you can try a bunch of stuff. Things might not go great when you're shooting your production - the other was definitely a lot of like wrestling with ideas and things -, but in the edit, he sticks with it and he stays at it, and he is relentless."

At one point Oscar is asked about the Standard Heating Oil hat in the movie. For those of you who do not know the background story there; several years before Triple Frontier, Oscar worked with JC Chandor on a movie titled A Most Violent Year. He played Abel Morales, a Colombian born businessman who lives in Westchester, NY and owns the Standard Heating Oil company.

And we all know the hat Frankie (Morales...) wears in Triple Frontier:

Josh Horowitz from the Happy Sad Confused podcast is a real movie nerd, so he asked Oscar about it mentioning the JC Chandor Cinematic Universe. Here's what Oscar said:

"I know. That was, I gotta say, that was me, because I was like 'Can I, can I wear the Standard Hat?', and then he [JC] started thinking like 'Yeah, maybe', but then he was like 'It's too much, but Pedro can wear it'. And I was like okay, alright!"

Which brings me to my last point...

We know about those beach pics that were snapped of Oscar, Garrett, Charlie -- and then another set of them with Pedro and Tom Ben -- when they were in Hawaii to shoot Triple Frontier, right? As Oscar mentions in the interview, it seems like someone from the team [I'm assuming he means crew] ended up tipping off the paps for those photo ops.

I just randomly came across a much bigger set of those photos than I've seen before, and my heart suddenly stopped. Because...

...Oscar is wearing Frankie's hat?

Oscar is wearing FRANKIE'S STANDARD HEATING OIL HAT.

I mean.

I know it is/was Oscar's hat first, and I think it was @legendary-pink-dot who mentioned that a bunch of people on the crew had them, but as far as I can see, this was the only moment he was captured wearing it - so I love it. I'm having a moment.

If you haven't heard Oscar on Happy Sad Confused before, check out the podcast here.

tagging some folks for heads up: @sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @magpiepills @perotovar @romanarose @penvisions @prolix-yuy @writefightandflightclub @ezrasbirdie @astroboots @pimosworld @alltheglitterandtheroar @nerdieforpedro @wardenparker

ok my brain is asleep at this point, so consider this a tag for everybody

#triple frontier #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #garrett hedlund #charlie hunnam #Spotify

132 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 8 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

I’m participating in Kinktober 2023 this year using this list by @flightlessangelwings . If you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on this post or send in an ask.

Day One - Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: Overstimulation ; impact play; fingering; nipple play; dirty talk—praise and degradation

Day Two - Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Public sex (car sex); role playing; blowjob; cum play; fingering

Day Three - Diego Jimenez x Reader

Warnings: Reader is the monster; vampirism; mention of drug use; mention of alcohol consumption; blood drinking (because vampires); vaginal sex

Day Four - Santiago Garcia x Reader

Warnings: Public sex; sex pollen; rough sex; unprotected sex; creampie; hair pulling

Day Five - Jax Teller x Reader

Warnings: Table sex/desk sex; enemies to enemies who fuck; vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Day Six - Josh Lyman x Reader

Warnings: Lots of dialogue!!; phone sex; power imbalance; dirty talk; praise kink; masturbation

Day Seven - Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: Morning sex; fingering; oral sex; safe sex; vaginal sex

Day Eight - Rafael Barba x Reader

Warnings: Cockwarming; restraints; spanking; impact play; Dom/Brat dynamics; choking; rough sex; oral sex; vaginal sex; cum shot; cum play

Day Nine - Nathan Bateman x Reader

Warnings: Rimming; fingering; masturbation; pegging; blowjobs; cunnilingus; praise kink

Day Ten - Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: Stripping; car sex; clothed man/partially clothed woman; grinding

Day Eleven - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Blindfolding; hide-and-seek/prey-play adjacent; blowjob; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie

Day Twelve - Will Miller x Reader

Warnings: Established relationship; fluff; formal wear; oral sex; safe sex

Day Thirteen - Jim Kirk x Reader

Warnings: Anonymous sex; public sex; oral sex; spit as lube; safe sex

Day Fourteen - Oberyn Martell x Reader

Warnings: Prostitution/sex work; canon-typical sex work; dirty talk; sub Oberyn Martell; hair pulling; restraints; orgasm control/denial; masturbation; breeding kink; oral sex; gag use; unsafe sex; creampie

Day Fifteen - Duke Leto Atreides x Reader

Warnings: Free use; semi-public sex; oral sex; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie

Day Sixteen - Indiana Jones x Reader

Warnings: Role reversal; period-typical attitudes toward sex; vaginal sex; riding unsafe sex; creampie

Day Seventeen - Ben Miller x Reader

Warnings: Praise kink; dirty talk; blowjob; fingering; grinding; semi-public sex

Day Eighteen - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Masturbation; mutual masturbation; fingering; handjob; vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Day Nineteen - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Somnophilia; Bradley 'I Eat Pussy for My Own Pleasure' Bradshaw; anal sex; anal plug; safe sex; vaginal fingering

Day Twenty - Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader

Warnings: Sex toys; fingering; blowjobs

Day Twenty-One - Harvey Specter x Reader

Warnings: Hate sex; oral sex; semi-public sex; table sex; spit as lube; safe sex; negotiating tactics that would get you disbarred

Day Twenty-Two - Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Reader is an older virgin; fingering; oral sex; loss of virginity; vaginal sex; safe sex

Day Twenty-Three - Jonathan Levy x Reader

Warnings: Dirty talk; vaginal sex; cunnilingus; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie; breeding kink

Day Twenty-Four - James Bond x Reader

Warnings: Exes; domineering James Bond; fingering; choking; hate sex; mostly naked woman, clothed man

Day Twenty-Five - Shiv Roy x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Infidelity; mentions of previous adolescent antics; mirror sex; oral sex; fingering; grinding; semi-public sex

Day Twenty-Six - SithMaster!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Sith Master!Obi-Wan; Sith Apprentice!Reader; Power imbalance; Force-choking; deep throating; grinding; masturbation; choking (without the Force); degradation

Day Twenty-Seven - Christopher Pike x Reader

Warnings: Fluff; yearning; kitchen sex; vaginal sex; improper use of buttercream

Day Twenty-Eight - Andromache of Scythia (The Old Guard) x Reader

Warnings: Intercrural Sex/grinding; nipple play; fighting; light degradation

Day Twenty-Nine - Don Draper x Reader

Warnings: Semi-public sex; fingering; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie; gagging with clothing

Day Thirty - Jake 'Hangman' Sersin x Reader

Warnings: Oral sex/cunnilingus; face sitting; Jake 'I Get Hard When I Eat Pussy’ Seresin

Day Thirty- One - A Thank You :)

#Kinktober 2023 #Kinktober Masterlist #Kinktober #Youvebeenlivingfictional's Kinktober 2023

215 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Note

☀️Frankie Morales, dialogue prompt 2, scenario prompt a.

Congrats on 500 followers! 💗

Rain Soaked Romantic.

2. "Don't go on that date." + a. Kissing in the rain.

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. another frankie request completed - i love this man :( I combined two requests for this one, because they were basically the same!! thank you my loves <3

Pairing - Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - one curse word !!

Word Count - 600

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready soon?" Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. You check your watch and stand up quickly, realising that it's a lot later than you thought.

"Oh, fuck. Thanks, Santi. I should probably get going."

The other boys look at you curiously.

"She has a date," Santi teases, laughing when you go shy.

You're suddenly bombarded with questions. Who is he? How did you meet? Where are you going? What time? Is he hot - hotter than me?

"No, Ben. He's not hotter than you," you wink at him. He winks back, chuckling.

All of the boys are laughing - except for Frankie. No, Frankie's gone rigid, all expression erased from his face.

"You good, Morales?" Will asks him quietly. Frankie simply nods once in response.

You gather up your things and make your way towards Will's front door.

"You'll let us know how it goes, right?" Santiago asks.

"And you'll keep your location on?" Benny adds.

"Yes and yes," you reply quickly. "Promise!"

You're halfway down the driveway when you hear Will shout after you.

"Drive safe! That rain is relentless!"

"Always!" you yell back, smile on your face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're fully dressed and ready when you hear a knock at your door.

You bound down the stairs, expecting to see your date waiting for you. Instead, you swing your door open to be met with Frankie Morales.

He's soaked, the rain drenching his clothes and plastering his hair to his forehead. There's water dripping down his face, cascading down his cheeks. He looks beautiful, albeit a little cold.

"Frankie?"

"Hi," he pants breathlessly.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

"Yes. And no," he replies unhelpfully.

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, something happened," he explains. "I realised something, sitting on Will's couch earlier. And all of a sudden, I knew I had to tell you. I can't wait anymore."

The rain is still pouring, but Frankie refuses to step inside. It's like he's glued to that specific spot on your front deck, too terrified to move.

You look at him expectantly, dazed and confused. So, he continues.

"Don't go on that date."

He's looking at you intently. Your breath quickens, chest heaving with every inhale. Neither of you break eye contact.

"... Why, Frankie?" you almost whisper.

"You know why."

"I need to hear you say it, Frank. I need to hear you say it."

He takes a deep, careful breath, and exhales with a shudder.

"Because I'm in love with you."

In this moment, it's as if time stops. Neither of you move, neither of you breathe. You just stand outside your door, rain soaking the both of you, eyes locked on each other. Eventually, you speak.

"I was only going on this date to try and get over you," you confess.

"Get over me?" he questions, brows scrunched in confusion.

"I've been in love with you since the first day I met you, Francisco Morales."

Frankie breaks out into a blinding, gleaming grin, beaming his happiness in all directions. He lunges towards you and pulls you into his arms, soaking your dress with his wet clothes.

When he puts you down, he cradles your face carefully before pressing his lips to yours. He's careful and soft and warm and everything you ever imagined and more.

The rain hasn't let up, drenching you both, but it doesn't matter. The cold can't touch you when you're in Frankie's arms. Nothing can.

And when you receive a text from Will the next morning that reads - "How was last night?" You reply - "Best night of my life."

386 notes · View notes

inklore · 2 months

Text

YA GIRL HASN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING SINCE OCTOBER!! WTF!!

so this little sleepover is to change that but also welcome ya girl back from her very long very needed hiatus. so let's hope this doesn't flop and let's hope the whore is still in your girl enough to write some sheet gripping fics for you babes.

lets go over the rules:

no minors, ya'll aren't allowed on my blog let alone interacting with my things but i feel the need to put a reminder.

when you send a prompt for a drabble please don't just include the number, include the dialogue, it's much appreciated.

you don't have to be following me, we don't have to be mutuals, anyone can send something in, all are welcome.

there is no start or end date, when i post this you can send something in, and it ends when i run out of asks to answer.

the amount of stuff you can send in is limitless so go wild babes.

DRABBLES — send in prompts from this post, this post, or this post, for any of the characters down below and i'll whip ya up something good.

GAMES — fuck / marry / kiss, would you rather, this or that, send me something from this post, send me a kink and i'll rate it, headcanon things.

GRAPHICS — divider requests, dni + reblog banners.

MUTUALS ONLY — send me a little heart, of any color, and i'll write you a letter.

ETC — get personal and ask me random questions, advice, send me a secret, go gaga over your recent hyperfixation, literally all asks are welcome!

characters applicable for drabbles:

pedro verse — joel miller, frankie morales, javi gutierrez

oscar verse — marc spector, poe dameron, santiago garcia

top gun — jake seresin, bradley bradshaw, javy machado

driver verse — adam sackler, ben solo, flip zimmerman

etc — villanelle, roman godfrey, colin bridgerton, oliver quick, farleigh start, jordan li

if you have any questions or inquires about other characters, this lil celebration as a whole, please shoot ya girl a message 💗

#ya girls back celebration

82 notes · View notes

ghostofaboy · 18 days

Text

Ghost of a Boy 200 Follower Celebration

Happy Friday everyone!

This week has been great for me. Lots of smoking hot pictures of Pedro on set, I put out part 2 of my Dave/Javi P/Marcus P fic and I hit 200 followers!

It was only in January I hit 100, so this is amazing for me. Thank you to everyone to has chosen to follow me and likes the stories I write.

So... for this celebration I'm opening up my inbox for requests and questions. So feel free to drop me a message if you want a fic or to ask me anything about myself/something I've written.

Below are rules for request. 👇

I’m opening fic requests from Friday 10th to Friday 17th May. Each fic will be between 500-1000 words. Please be as clear as you can in your requests. Let me know if you have a particular character you want, any themes/kinks, dialogue you want working in. The more details you provide, the more I can write what you want.

Characters I will write for:

Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels

Frankie 'Catfish’ Morales

Javier Peña

Din Djarin

Marcus Moreno

Marcus Pike

Max Lord

Pero Tovar

I primarily write with male ocs, but I’m happy to write for male reader or gender neutral. Please put in the prompt your preference. I’m sorry I don’t write female reader fics, there are plenty of amazing writers out there who already do that.

I’ll also write for the following existing ships: DinCobb (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth), FishBen (Frankie Morales/Benny Miller) and Stavier (Steve Murphy/Javier Peña).

When it comes to kinks I’m pretty open. Feel free to check out the masterlist for my Kinktober 2023 or a quick look over other things I’ve written on my Masterlist. However, I reserve the right to refuse a request if it makes me uncomfortable or if it’s something I don’t know enough about to write.

Finally, please be patient with me. I work and only write in my spare time so I might take me a while if I get lots of request.

Requests from my 100 follower celebration: Finally and Final (Stavier), Take Your Time (DinCobb) and Something A Little New (FishBen)

#ghost of a boy follower celebration #writing requests #agent whiskey #din djarin #marcus pike #marcus moreno #javier peña #frankie morales #pero tovar #max lord

37 notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 1 year

Text

Not Leaving You Again

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader x Frankie Morales Word count- 4.8k Dialogue prompt- “ are you okay? “ Action prompt- [ YANK ]: seeing the receiver is in immediate danger, the sender hastily grabs them and pulls them against them, out of harm’s way Warnings-s.mut (18+ only!), bi mmf threesome, lots of pining, childhood friends to lovers, feelings, protective Santi and Frankie, assault attempt but it’s interrupted, reader is a bartender and works in a bikini bar but no physical descriptions given, reader has the nickname “Chiquita” given to her by Santi, no use of y/n Notes- Written for my Year of Protectiveness (@yearofcreation2023), and it was supposed to be posted in April so let's just ignore the fact that this one is late lol! This actually went through many changes before I settled on this version and I'm happy to have done something a little different! Also, if you’re wondering how I came up with the nickname Chiquita: I was eating a banana while brainstorming this and I thought that was a cute nickname lol! Enjoy! @flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post!

“Really Pope?” Frankie sounded exasperated, “A bikini bar?”

Santiago grinned mischievously, “Yes Fish, a fucking bikini bar,” he placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “You’ve been moping about your breakup for too long, buddy.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, “I bet they all know you by name here, huh.”

“Actually,” Santiago let out a deep breath, “I’ve never been here before,” he couldn’t help but laugh at Frankie’s shocked face, “I was looking up places to take you to cheer you up and this place came up.”

“It’s a wonder you never heard about it before,” he let out a heavy sigh of his own, “But I appreciate this.”

“Hey… What are friends for, huh!” he playfully punched Frankie’s arm, “Now let’s get a smile on that face of yours.”

“Whatever you say, Pope.” Frankie sounded slightly annoyed, but truly he was grateful for his friend. It had been several months since his fiance left him, and he knew he had been down in the dumps about it, bringing the guys down with him. And while Santigao Garcia had a tendency of being an asshole at times, he was still his best friend and he knew he had his best interest in mind. So, Frankie indulged him.

But, when the two men entered the bar, both their breaths were taken away.

The bar was reasonably packed for the late afternoon, and every single woman who worked there was stunningly beautiful. Women in all ages, skin tones, sizes and backgrounds worked behind the bar making drinks and running to the tables to serve them. Santiago and Frankie stood in stunned silence for a moment before Santi nudged his friend.

“What did I tell you, Fish,” he sounded very pleased with himself, “Good drinks, beautiful bartenders… It’s just what you need.”

“They’re not pieces of meat, Pope,” Frankie huffed, “They’re just here to work.”

“Yes I know,” Santiago cleared his throat, “But it’s a bikini bar for a reason,” he nodded a quick hello to a waitress who sauntered by and gave him a wink, “Let’s just enjoy it.”

With another roll of his eyes, Frankie followed his friend to the bar where he ordered them both drinks. He watched as Santiago suavely flirted with the bartender, and was surprised that he actually flirted back. But then again, Santiago always had that effortless charm that made anyone swoon. Even Frankie himself found himself captivated by his friend’s hypnotic gaze at times.

“Cheers, Fish,” Santiago’s voice jolted Frankie from his thoughts, “To single life. May you find the perfect person for you.”

“Thanks,” Frankie mumbled as he cheered and took a sip. He had to admit, Santiago had a kindness and caring side to him that he kept buried under the facade. And although this wouldn’t have been his first choice of venue, he was grateful that Santiago dragged him out of his place. But, just as he was about to voice his thoughts, another voice cut in between the two of them.

“Santi?”

Stunned, the two men turned over their shoulder and were met by another captivating employee, dressed in only a bikini top and jean shorts. Santiago nearly spit out his drink as he breathed your name in a surprised tone.

“Santiago Garcia! I would know that voice anywhere!” you put down your tray to open your arms for a hug.

He exclaimed your name as he hopped off the barstool and embraced you tightly, “Dios mio it’s been… years!” he sighed as he leaned back to take in the sight of you, “You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Frankie watched with a soft smile as two old friends reunited.

“It’s been too long,” you agreed as you looked him up and down, “I’ve missed you, Santi,” suddenly, you sounded sad.

Santiago cleared his throat and redirected your thoughts, “This is my good friend Francisco,” he gestured to Frankie, “Fish, this is Chiquita.”

“Pleasure. Call me Frankie,” he spoke softly as he took your hand in his. Frankie couldn’t help but notice how soft your hand was and how your face lit up when you smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” you gave him your name once more before you turned back to Santiago, “Chiquita, huh?” you asked with a laugh, “No one’s called me that in… I can’t remember how long. How have you been?”

Frankie couldn’t help but notice the flash of melancholy in your eyes when you turned back to Santiago. He listened as the two of you caught up for a minute before someone from across the way called your name.

“I’ll be right there,” you replied over your shoulder before you turned back to them, “It was nice to see you, Santi,” you breathed, “And very nice to meet you, Frankie,” you paused for a beat, “Come back again sometime. Tuesdays are usually slower… We can catch up more.”

Santiago and Frankie exchanged a glance and a smirk. “I guess this will be our Tuesday spot then,” Santiago exclaimed, “See you then, Chiquita.”

Your smile lit up your face once more, “I’ll see you then!” you said before you disappeared into the crowd and went back to work.

Tuesday came before they knew it, and just like you promised, the bar was much quieter. The waitresses all greeted Santiago and Frankie when they walked in and they almost clamored to get the chance to wait on them. Among them was even the one that Santi flirted with the last time they were in, but this time, he only had eyes for one person.

“Hey guys!” you waved from behind the bar, “Take a seat. I’ll make you my specialty. On the house!”

“Thank you, “Frankie murmured as he watched you work. When you set the drinks down, he asked the first of many burning questions on his mind, “So… What’s the story behind ‘Chiquita’ anyway?”

Santiago nearly spit out his drink in an attempt to contain his laughter, and you couldn’t help but snort as well.

“When we were kids,” he started before you could recover from your laughing spell to speak, “She dressed up as the Chiquita banana girl three years in a row. I started calling her that as a joke but it just kinda stuck.”

“Oh I would have loved to see that,” Frankie joined in your laughter.

“Actually,” you cleared your throat, “Funny story… I actually did a bikini version of that for Halloween last year!”

“You’re joking!”

“Nope,” you winked, “Too bad you missed it.”

“Damn,” Santiago cursed under his breath.

Frankie’s disappointment mirrored his friends, but he hid it better. Instead, he redirected the conversation as you wiped down the bar, “So you two have known each other for a while then?”

“Yep,” you replied, “We were friends as kids… grew up together… I hadn’t heard from you in years though…” your tone turned sad again, and suddenly Frankie regretted asking. He hated seeing you like that, even if he barely knew you.

“Hey,” Frankie tried to redirect your thoughts, “We’re all here now, so why don’t we enjoy the drinks and the company?” He lifted his drink to cheers.

“Yeah!” Santiago lifted his drink as well, “To good friends and good drinks!”

“I’ll cheers to that,” you poured yourself a water and joined them, “To good friends, old and new!”

The three of you clinked your glasses together before downing them all. With that a new friendship was born and you couldn’t help the feelings that bubbled to the surface… for both men.

Before they knew it, going to the bikini bar became a regular thing for Frankie and Santi. They were in there multiple nights a week, to the point where everyone there knew them by name. Frankie even joked that he knew that would happen eventually, which Santiago shrugged off. But, neither man could deny the growing feelings for you they both harbored, and both of them knew about the other. It went unspoken, however, and neither of them made a move on you. Instead, they just enjoyed your company and watched over you on busy nights to make sure no drunk men tried to put his hands on you.

But, there was one burning question on Frankie’s mind. And after several weeks, he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer: “What happened between you and Chiquita?”

The momentarily joy at Frankie using that nickname for you as well didn’t last, and Santiago’s face dropped, “We drifted apart,” he answered dryly as he took a sip of his drink, “It happens when people grow up.”

Frankie’s face soured, “That’s not it,” he sounded annoyed, “I see the way she looks at you sometimes. Don’t tell me you hurt her…”

“No!” Santiago snapped, “No,” he repeated in a softer tone, “It’s just…” he sighed, “Shit happens, you know? Especially with guys like us.”

Frankie’s gaze stayed pointed at Santiago, but he chose not to push it any further. Instead, he looked around the bar and caught your eye. His heart fluttered in his chest when you looked up from what you were doing and gave him a big smile. Fuck, he was down bad for you, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he didn’t want to hurt his best friend or come between you two. So, Frankie chose to keep his heart guarded and locked away. If this was the most he was going to be with you, a friend and someone to watch over, Frankie made his peace with it.

But, Santiago broke the silence between them with an unexpected confession, “We hooked up once after I got back from my first deployment,” he stated plainly, as if he fought to keep his own emotions in check, “After that, I decided it was best that she never saw me again. I’m not the kind of man that’s good for her. She deserves better than me and my shit. So,” he sighed, “I left and never called her again.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope,” Frankie couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice, “You really are a fucking asshole sometimes, you know that.”

“Yes, I fucking know!” Santiago snapped.

“So what stopped you?” Frankie sighed, “Normally you aren’t the ‘noble’ type.”

Santiago knew it wasn’t an insult. It was the truth. He rubbed his face in his hands, “Yeah,” he breathed, “I don’t know man. She’s just… Different.”

“Yeah…” Frankie’s voice sounded distant as he looked over at you again, “She’s something else…”

“You like her, don’t you?” Santiago asked, noticing the way Frankie looked at you.

“I… Uhh…” he stammered.

“It’s ok, man,” Santiago took a sip of his beer, “You’re a better man than I am. You’d take better care of her than I did.”

Frankie let out a heavy breath, “Thanks man,” he mumbled, “But I wouldn’t do that to you either. I see the way she looks at you.”

Neither man spoke for several long and tense moments. They sat in stillness as the bar hustled around them. For the first time in a long time, neither of them knew what to say to the other.

“Listen,” Santiago broke the silence, “Why don’t we let her decide? No hard feelings,” he sounded defeated already, which was very unlike him.

Frankie didn’t like it, but he decided to just let the topic go for now and agree, “Alright.”

“Hey,” your voice broke through their tension, “You boys alright?”

“Fine, Chiquita,” Santiago reached out for you, “Just talking.”

“It looked serious,” you glanced between them, “You sure everything’s ok?”

Frankie gave you a soft smile, “Everything’s fine.”

Neither Frankie nor Santiago spoke about that conversation again after that night. They carried on like it didn’t even happen, and surprisingly, they both were able to just spend time with you just like they did before. Their routine felt comfortable enough that it didn’t affect them, and neither man held a grudge about it. Besides, they both agreed that watching over you was more important than their childish squabble. Especially on nights like tonight.

It was crowded for a Monday night, and you barely had time to chat with your boys. If you were honest, you were almost disappointed, since you looked forward to the nights that Frankie and Santiago came in. True, it was hard for you at first to see Santi again after he ghosted you all those years ago, but when you realized that he’d grown since then and you liked the man he grew into, you forgave him. And his friend Frankie was beyond handsome and kind too.

There were nights you fantasized about Santiago. And then there were nights you fantasized about Frankie. But your favorite daydreams were when you had both men at the same time. You found yourself equally attracted to both of them, and you felt safe when you knew they were there, watching over you and chased drunk men away who threatened to get too touchy with you.

And you were especially grateful they were at the bar tonight.

Rowdy crowds of men spilled into the bar unexpectedly, and some of them made you and your coworkers nervous. You made your way over to the hightop table where Frankie and Santiago sat as often as you could.

“Busy night, Chiquita?” Santiago asked.

“It’s weird for a Monday,” you commented as you glanced between the two of them, “You guys doing alright?”

“We’re fine, sweetheart,” Frankie’s voice was velvety soft and it brought comfort to you.

Just as you were about to say something, one of the other waitresses yelped as he dropped a tray of drinks right in front of another table. “Shit,” you hissed before you turned to the guys, “Be right back. I’l going to go help her.”

They both nodded as they watched you hurry over to the new girl. She had just started two weeks ago, and she seemed very nervous. But, you were there to help her and you quickly rushed to her side and calmed her down, “Hey,” you breathed, “It’s ok. It’s just a spill. It happens.”

“Thank you,” she breathed your name as he looked at you with big pleading eyes.

From the far table, Frankie and Santiago watched as you bent over to help the other girl. And while they were captivated at the sight of you bent over while hardly wearing anything, a grumble from nearby caught their attention. One of the drunk men at the table next to where you were stumbled over with a sinister grin on his face and his hands reaching out.

Without a word, Santiago and Frankie looked at each other and knew exactly what the other was thinking.

In a flash, they rushed over to you, intercepting the drunk man before he could put his hands on you. The two men worked together in tandem; Frankie grabbed you and yanked you against him, wrapping his arms around you while Santiago pushed the drunk man away from you and the other waitress.

“Back off, asshole!” Santiago shouted at him.

You gasped as suddenly you found yourself in Frankie’s arms and Santiago’s body stood in front of you, blocking you from the threat you didn’t even know was there.

“Frankie?”

“It’s ok, baby,” he whispered to you, “We’ve got you.”

You let out a deep breath as you and Frankie watched Santiago push the drunk man once more, “Get the fuck out!”

“Hey,” the drunk man slurred, “I didn’t mean no harm… I just,” he hiccuped, “Wanted a little squeeze.” His glazed over eyes landed on you.

A shiver ran up your spine at the way he looked at you.

“Not on my watch,” Santiago growled before he punched the guy right in the face, knocking him down to the ground.

“Don’t look,” Frankie turned you around so that his body blocked your view and you were turned away from Santiago and the drunk man.

All you could hear was a scuffle and shouting as others joined in and pushed the drunk man out of the bar. All the while, Frankie whispered soft nothing to you to keep you calm. And you heard him repeat over and over again, “You’re ok, baby. We ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”

The commotion calmed down as quickly as it started and suddenly Santiago was in front of you, “Chiquita!” he huffed as you looked up at him from Frankie’s grasp, “Are you ok?”

You looked between Santiago and Frankie, stunned at the way he rushed to your aid so fast, “I’m fine,” you breathed, “Thank you… Thank you both.”

Time was a blur for you after that, and all you were aware of was that neither Sntiago nor Frankie left your side for a moment. And one of them had his hand on you at all times, as if they were both afraid that something else would happen if they strayed too far. Vaguely, you heard them speaking with your coworkers to make sure the other girls were alright before they relayed what happened to your boss.

“Baby?” Frankie’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you blinked your eyes as if you had to refocus on the present moment.

“We’re gonna take you home, alright?”

“B-but…” you stammered, unsure of if that was what you really wanted.

“Don’t worry, Chiquita,” Santi appeared on the other side of you, the two of them forming a protective barrier around you, “I talked to your boss, everything’s cool. Let us take care of you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as your hands trembled for an entirely different reason, “Ok…”

The ride home was quiet save for your directions. Frankie took his truck while Santi followed behind in your car so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. A hundred thoughts ran through your mind as you noticed that Frankie glanced over at you as much as he could.

“Watch the road, Fish,” you teased to break the tension inside the car.

He let out a short laugh, “Yes ma’am.”

Thankfully, the drive wasn’t too much longer and Frankie and Santi pulled into your place and escorted you inside. It felt a little strange, as if they were your bodyguards, but at the same time you had never felt safer.

“Well,” you breathed as you gestured around, “This is it. This is my place.”

“It’s nice,” Frankie mumbled, trying to keep his expression level.

You stood in front of Frankie and Santiago as you fiddled your fingers. “Thank you,” you broke the silence, “By the way… Thanks for lookin’ after me back at the bar.”

Frankie’s eyes softened, “You don’t have to thank us for that, baby.”

The way Frankie called you that pet name made your heart flutter in your chest. You always liked it when he called you that, and the way he said it always made your skin tingle. You glanced between him and Santi as the fantasies you had popped into your head. Santiago hadn’t said much since you got into your place, and all he did was nod at you. Something was up with him, you just weren’t sure what, but you still felt the tension radiate off of him.

As he watched your face, Santiago couldn’t stand the tension anymore and he broke the silence with a loud voice, “Ok, I’m just going to say it,” his emotions fueled his sudden outburst, “Listen,” he used your real name for once, “I know this isn’t fair of me to ask, but it’s driving me fucking crazy. And,” he let out a heavy sigh, “I just have to know… Which one of us would you choose?”

You blinked your eyes wide as your mouth dropped open, “W-what?”

“Santiago…” Frankie hissed.

“Chiquita, you gotta know we both are fucking crazy about you,” Santiago continued, ignoring his friend, “And I know I hurt you, baby. But I just gotta know so we can move on.”

You were silent as you looked between the two men. Your heart felt like it would burst from your chest at any minute as they both looked back at you like lost puppies. Slowly, you reached out and took Frankie’s hand in yours without a word.

Santiago spat, “Thought so,” he mumbled before he stepped past you to leave.

“Wait,” you grabbed his hand with your free one and held onto both of them tightly, “I…”

“What is it?” Frankie asked in a whisper as Santi looked back at the two of you with a surprised expression on his face.

“Do I have to pick between you two?” your voice shook, “Can…” you swallowed hard, “Can’t I have you both?”

Frankie and Stai’s eyes went wide as their gazes met. Frankie himself couldn’t deny the latent attraction he had for his friend. And Santiago’s eyes went up and down Frankie’s figure as a slight smirk lit up his face.

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Santi quipped as he stepped closer towards the two of you.

“Neither would I,” Frankie grinned back as he wrapped his arms around both you and Santi.

Your face lit up as you looked between the two men, “Are we really doing this?” you asked in an excited whisper.

Santiago cupped your chin and kissed you deeply, “It looks like we fuckin’ are,” he murured before Frankie grabbed your chin and turned you toward him to give you an equally passionate kiss.

Left breathless, you just nodded towards your bedroom and the two men quickly led you down the hallway, stripping you and each other on the way. Even after the tense moments at the bar, everything melted away as the three of you shed your layers of clothing, and giggles erupted among the three of you as you made your way to your bed.

“Fuck…” Frankie breathed as he took in the sight of you and Santiago before him.

“Just as beautiful as I remember, Chiquita,” Santiago murmured as he glanced over at Frankie, “And shit man, you’re an impressive sight too,” he winked.

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out before Frankie said your name.

“How do you want us, baby?’

“Yeah, your call.”

It took no time to decide how you wanted them. Leaning over to Frankie, you gave him a light kiss, “I want you to fuck me,” you breathed before you leaned over to Santi and mirrored the kiss, “And I want you in my mouth.”

“Have you thought about this before?” Santi smirked.

“That’s my little secret,” you winked.

Both boys let out a short laugh before they got serious again. They caressed your body, memorizing every dip and curve of you as they positioned you between them. Your back stayed to Frankie as his hands reached your ass and gave it a firm squeeze. Both of them groaned when you let out a beautiful moan, and suddenly the desperation took over for all of you.

You held onto Santiago’s shoulders as you positioned yourself, parting your legs for Frankie. Immediately, he cupped your pussy and traced a finger along your clit. Your body trembled as you moaned even louder while you grabbed onto Santi’s cock and slowly pumped it.

“Shit…” Santi hissed as you wrapped your fingers around him and stroked him slowly as if you remembered every little move that drove him wild.

While you jerked off Santi, Frankie pushed two fingers inside you while he stroked himself. A string of curses from all of you echoed in the room as Frankie’s thick fingers pumped in and out of you in the same rhythm that you pumped Santi.

“Frankie,” you murmured, “I’m ready… Please fuck me.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Frankie caressed your ass as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you and lined up his cock at your entrance.

You and Santi shared a look before you felt the tip of Frankie’s cock push past your entrance. Your mouth dropped open and you let out the most tantalizing moan either man had ever heard.

“Fuck,” Santi cursed as he watched you lower yourself onto your hands and knees.

As Frankie slowly pushed into you, you took Santi’s cock in your mouth, flicking the tip with your tongue a few times before you wrapped your lips around it and took him completely inside.

“Ay Dios…” Santi groaned as he felt your warmness around him.

“Fuck,” Frankie moaned as he buried himself completely inside you, “Fuck baby you feel so good.”

All you could do was moan around Santi’s cock as you felt yourself stuffed at both ends. Your mind swam in pleasure as Frankie reeled back and thrust forward again, and already you saw stars. Santi kept his hands on your shoulders to support you as Frankie held you hips and pounded into you faster. Unable to hold himself back, he rocked into you over and over again, already addicted to the feeling of your wet pussy around him.

Santiago looked up from where you gagged on his cock to meet Frankie’s eyes, and he felt a fresh wave of need pulse through him when he saw the look on his face. A shiver ran up his spine as Santi watched Frankie fuck you. Between the way his cock disappeared inside you over and over again paired with the carnal look on his face, Santi felt his climax build quickly.

“Fuck,” Santi growled as he grabbed your head and yanked you off his cock.

You let out a loud cry as drool dripped down your lips, “Santi? What?”

“I want to hear you, Chiquita,” Santi growled before he kissed you deeply, “Let us hear how beautiful you sound while Frankie fucks that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as the new angle drove Frankie’s cock deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot with precision.

Santi’s arms wrapped around you and held you tightly, and you felt Frankie’s grip around both of you as well. Your wind swam in pleasure as Frankie pounded into you faster and all you could do was rest your head on Santi’s shoulder as he held you.

As you felt your own climax build, you grabbed Santi’s cock and pumped it in time with Frankie’s thrusts. You heard him hiss your name as both men growled and groaned on either side of you.

“Fuck… Frankie… I’m gonna cum…”

All Frankie could do was moan your name, his own climax right behind yours. He tightened his grip on your hips as he pounded into you with fervor until you let out a louder scream as you fell apart. Your body trembled in their arms as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you as you came on Frankie’s cock.

Your orgasm triggered Frankie’s and he looked into Santi’s eyes for a moment before he too let out a loud groan and came deep inside you.

Santi felt awe-stuck as he watched both of you hit your peeks. You both looked so beautiful, so sexy, that he almost forgot about his own pleasure for a moment. But, when Frankie’s hand covered your on his cock, Santi let out a gasp as the two of you pumped him together until he too came hard, spilling himself on your body.

Exhausted and spent, the three of you all collapsed down onto your bed, Frankie slipping out of you as you did so. For several moments, you, Frankie and Santi all just laid together in a tangle of limbs as you all caught your breaths. Your arms and legs laid out over your boys, and even as your heart pounded in your chest, you could also feel the same in both of them.

“That…” you broke the comfortable silence with a heavy breath, “What fucking amazing.”

Santi laughed, “Fuck yeah it was.”

“Perfect,” Frankie sighed as he shifted to make you all more comfortable. He gathered you in his arms and pulled you to lay on his chest before he reached out and grabbed Santi’s arm.

Santiago looked at him, confused as to what to do for a moment, before he settled down and let you rest in between them. His eyes trailed across your bodies as he couldn’t help but wonder how different things would have been had he not left the last time he slept with you. Would the two of you become a couple? Would you eventually have invited Frankie into your bed? Your relationship?

But more importantly, would Santi repeat his actions again?

“Hey Santi?” your voice broke him out of his thoughts as you looked over your shoulder, “You’re not gonna leave again? Are you?”

Santi’s eyes went wide as he glanced between you and Frankie, who gave him a stern look. After a beat, he softened, “No, baby,” he caressed your face and kissed you before he looked at Frankie, “I’m not leaving either of you,” his voice was soft as he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Frankie’s lips as well.

Frankie smiled into the kiss before he leaned down and gave you one as well, “I ain’t leaving either, baby.”

Your skin tingled and warmed as you nuzzled yourself in between the two pairs of strong arms, “Good,” you murmured as you rest your head down, “Good.”

345 notes · View notes

astoryisaloveaffair · 10 months

Text

Fix You - Chapter 15 - High and Dry

*gif by @pedrohub

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

Spotify Playlist

»»———————►

Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit!! 18+!

Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence, drugs, sex fantasies. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! I hope this doesn’t disappoint! It is a bit shorter than my chapters in this fic usually are but ending it where I did felt right, and I don’t want to beat you over the head with F E E L I N G S. Please keep in mind for this chapter that I am continuing based off the exact themes from Triple Frontier. If you find some things in Triple Frontier offensive, I probably wouldn’t continue reading. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.

* If a character is speaking in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this 🫠

Suggested Songs: “High and Dry” by Radiohead, “Breathe Me” by Sia, “Demons” by Guster, “Cry” by Cigarettes After Sex, “Cold Little Heart” by Michael Kiwanuka

For a few seconds you can’t even figure out what you’re looking at. Or maybe you can, but your brain doesn’t want to process it, the black of the night and the black of the gun meld together so there isn’t a clear outline.

It’s the shiny glint off the gun barrel under the streetlight that makes it real, and then you startle again when a male voice calls to you, muffled through the door.

“Get out of the car!!

You blink, your hand on your chest slowly inching towards your phone that you stashed into your bra in order to not carry a purse at the fair.

“Ah ah ah. No moving except open the door or I will blow your fucking brains out. You be good, I won’t hurt you. Get out.”

Your thoughts race and it feels like you’re silent for almost five whole minutes but you know it’s only seconds, because your hand reaches for the door.

You’re quick enough to figure out that if you try to put the key back in the ignition, he will shoot you before you can leave. If you pull out your phone, he will shoot you before you can place a call. If you try to hide, he could break the window in and grab you and it will make him pissed off.

Your only option here is to fight. You have no idea what this man’s intentions are and you are not going to ignore any chance you may have. Maybe if you hit him and ran—-

You swallow and open the door.

Immediately a gloved hand shoots in and grabs you by your hair, yanking you out of your seat and stumbling to your feet. There’s no respite once you catch your balance, as the man’s other hand pushes you hard in the chest back against the hard shell of your car and covers your mouth with the most foul smelling gloved hand you’d ever smelt.

It’s then that you notice, before you can even try to fight and make a break for it, that there isn’t just one man. It’s four. And all are dressed in black with masks on, completely encircling you. One presses a gun right up under your raised jaw, the other two aim at you from a distance.

There’s no way you can run. You can’t fight off four men, it would be suicide. But you’re not sure what other alternative you have. They might kill you anyways. Or they might let you go…after getting what they want. What they want could be worse. Your brain shuts down in panic, your eyes watering because your body will not allow you to close your eyes out of adrenaline or fear.

Then he speaks to you again.

“Where is the money”. You simply continue to stare, confused.

The man leans in closer, where his nose would be under the mask almost touching your own. It does nothing to dull how rank his breath and B.O. is.

“I’m going to let you talk, you be quiet and do not scream or I shoot you. Yes?”

You nod erratically, and he takes the rancid glove off your mouth.

For a moment you do consider screaming. But it wouldn't matter. By the time someone would even make it all the way across the parking lot to help you’d already be dead.

He asks again. “Where is the money?”

“What money?” You scrunch up your brow and you can hear your voice wavering. They know how scared you are. The gun against your neck pushes deeper, and you can feel the metal forming a bruise with how oppressive it is. “I–I don’t know what you—I have my credit card! You can take it, please have it!” Your right hand gropes its way into the open door of your car like you could magically summon the wallet to your hand.

“No. The money. The money they stole. Where is it?! They’re your sweethearts, yes? They share the money with you, and killed many of us. We came for the money.”

Your heart drops into your stomach as the night’s events flash before you at hyperspeed.

“How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper?...

Fuck. Fuck. But why would they come for you?

“I—I don’t know where it is. I, I understand now. I just learned this, I know what you’re talking about but I don’t have it, I don’t know where it is, they didn’t tell me anything about this, I swear—”

Your head almost recoils back with the force of his gloved hand, the large palm connecting to your cheek, leaving it stinging and your nose feeling like someone ripped it open. Your eyes water once more as you struggle not to start crying. Stay strong. You have to stay strong. Do not cry.

The man who spoke to you starts pulling you away from your car and into the dark, and despite it being an idea you’d already talked yourself out of, your instinct is to resist. “I told you, I don’t know where it is! I don’t! No–I’m not going anywhere! I don’t care how much you hit me–”

One of them turns to the other, rapidly speaking in Spanish that, thank god, you know just enough to interpret.

[“We should just kill this whore, then kill the big one’s other woman and take the baby. They can always get a new whore. They will come for the baby.”]

And suddenly it’s like your brain is the most clear it’s every been. “No! No, I’ll go! Take me, they’ll come for me, I promise. They will. And—and I’m easier to transport than a baby. You’d have to take care of it right?? Until they come?? That would be a lot of work! I’m—-I won’t fight I swear! Please just take me I promise you’ll get the money. Okay?”

The men look at each other, sending some secret silent message you can’t interpret. You look at the one standing in front of you. You can barely even see his eyes in the dark.

“Please. They’ll come.”

And then you don’t remember anything else.

It took everything he had in him not to turn and look at you, to shoot up off the couch and peer out that window to watch you leave, to rip the door open and run to you, apologizing for all of it. But he didn’t.

Instead, he sat there with his head in his hands, eyes screwed shut to keep the threatening tears from spilling out. Eventually, time and space faded out, he felt nothing but everything. It felt like he had been sitting on that couch forever and also for just one second. He felt dead inside. When he finally got up and trudged down the hall to bed, it was three in the morning.

He wakes to Gabi crying. “Fuck.” He grunts, as he rolls over to glare at his phone that didn’t go off. Except it did go off. He had slept through it, and it was almost 11am. His head is killing him, and he presses his lower palms into his eyes to try and alleviate the pain. It felt like he had a hangover, but he hadn’t had a drink or used. An emotional hangover.

Frankie hauls himself out of bed and stumbles to Gabi’s room, she is absolutely beside herself calling for him and rattling the railing on her crib. He can tell her diaper is full and she hasn’t had breakfast and now he feels like extra shit because of that.

“God, baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry honey…” he scoops her up and pulls her to his chest, cooing and lightly bouncing her to soothe the cries. “Daddy didn’t feel good, I don’t know what happened, I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” She sniffs and nods, wiping away a snot bubble. “Ok so I know you’re starving but you would probably also feel more comfortable after a bath. Does that sound good? Which would you like first?”

Gabi sniffles again. “um…baff.”

Frankie nods and carries her to the bathroom, immediately taking off her soiled clothes and starting to run the bath. While they wait, he softly brushes her hair, using his fingers to gently separate the cute little mats she sometimes gets in her curls.

He bathed her in silence, and he knows Gabi knows something is wrong, as she usually likes to play with her sea animal toys when she is in the bath. Today she is simply swirling the bubbly water with her finger.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what she understood and what she didn’t. When he broke up with Lex she was too young to realize or know any better but now…now she was aware. And she had loved you…

So did he. His chest seizes in a searing pain as he thinks of you, the way your face looked when he said what he said. He hadn’t meant any of it.

It was a new level of heartbreak, because he had known better not to cater to his impulsive stubbornness, the insults and hateful comments that spill out of his mouth when he gets caught, when he feels backed into a corner. He knew better and he couldn't stop himself, his defensive and selfishness overwhelming him. And then you asked him about the farmers he shot. And it hit him.

He was a bad person. There was no denying it. He’d wanted to keep that side of himself away from you, he’d change the topic or just blatantly lie, but he liked the man he was with you, he wanted to prolong the feeling as long as he could before he messed it up. And he messed it up.

It suddenly didn’t matter to him in that moment that you could possibly forgive him. You SHOULDN'T forgive him. His past, his life, his actual shitty personality…you deserved more. You were so young, you could find someone new easily who didn’t have all his problems. So he pushed you away.

And you were fun to fuck, I’ll admit that. Let me do fucking anything…

He whips around and all but flings the toilet seat cover off the entire toilet and promptly vomits.

He is a horrible person…but he knew, deep down, that you would have forgiven him, that you would have stayed. And as the world fell apart and it all came crashing down around him, he knew you shouldn’t. But it still pissed him off that you listened to him, even when he knew this was right. He could not deny he selfishly still also wanted you to come back, to refuse to leave and beg and plead and tell him how much you love him. Everything is so complicated.

He pulls his head up and rests it in the crook of his arm along the rim of the tub. He feels a light poking and looks up to see Gabi.

“Daddy we done?”

He blinks, looking down like he had forgotten where he was and what he was doing. He reached for the loofah to rinse it from soap later. The water was getting cold.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He says nothing and nods, wrapping her up in a blanket and putting on her favorite mermaid scale leggings and a little Fleetwood Mac shirt you’d gotten her so she could match with him.

After settling Gabi with her food, he trudges into the living room, collapsing on the couch and opening his phone.

It barely rings before it’s picked up.

“Hey, Fish…was just ‘bout to text you. You ok?”

“No.”

Will began to speak, but Frankie cut him off. “Look I need you to watch Gabi for a couple days. I’m…off my dad game. Can I bring her over?”

“Yea…sure.”

Frankie could hear the hesitation in Will’s voice.

“I’m not gonna use.”

“I didn’t say you would.”

“Right. Be there in a bit.”

He told them mostly everything. If there was one thing he learned from you, it was that talking about it did make him feel better.

They said nothing at first but listened, offering words of support, because there was nothing to say. Your reaction was completely justified, and you were rightfully upset about being lied to. So was Maidali.

“Yea she won’t talk to me right now either.” Will sighs, and Frankie feels a twang of guilt that he had spent the entire time talking about himself.

His sad eyes make contact with Will’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. Hopefully she can get over it. Flower too.”

“She won’t.” They could see this was a struggle for Frankie just from the muscles clenching in his jaw. “I made her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I made her break up with me. I—-said some really horrible shit. Shit I didn’t mean. Well, maybe I did at first cause I was mad but also…she doesn’t deserve this.”

“Deserve what?” Said Benny.

“Me, this, everything!” He throws his arms up gesturing to himself and around him before they thump back down on the couch cushions. “I wish I did deserve her but I don’t, and she has so much life ahead of her! I don’t want to tie her down to an old, fucked up, lying murderer, ok.”

“So…you White Fanged her?”

“….I don’t fucking know what that means, Benny.”

“Like, you loved her and knew she needed to be out there in the wild, it’s where she belongs, so you threw stones and shit at her to make her hate you and leave?”

Frankie blinks. “…yea.”

“But you still love her? You still want her, yea?”!

“Yes, but—“

“Well text her! Call her! Do something!”

Frankie hangs his head. “I already did. Cause I’m fucking weak. But it didn’t deliver. She blocked me. It’s what I deserve. It’s over.”

Before either of them could speak he stood up, indicating the discussion was over.

“Listen, just…watch Gabi for a couple days for me so I can feel like fucking shit and get over it and not have to listen to Lex’s fucking nagging if I ask her to take Gabi early.”

Will and Benny nod, each giving him a long hug before he said goodbye to Gabi and trudged right out the door.

And immediately texted his dealer.

He knew he shouldn’t. This wasn’t like his argument with you. He knew damn well he shouldn’t do this, that it would ruin his life probably. The difference is he just didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t deserve sobriety. He didn’t deserve good things. And he was tired of feeling the excruciating pain of heartbreak and abandonment that he had never wanted to feel again. The sharp twisting and turning in his chest coupled with nausea and dread. He felt you in every fucking heartbeat. He felt like he was dying.

He didn’t want to feel it this time.

He sighs, finished with chopping the chunky white powdered clumps up with his credit card, grabs a dollar bill from a his wallet, rolls it up, puts one end to the line of cocaine and the other his nostril, looks up—

And sees pictures of him and Gabi. At the zoo, washing his truck together with hose water splashing everywhere. A photo you took of Frankie and Gabi sleeping spooned together on the couch.

All new memories. All memories he got within the past 6 months. Memories he never would have gotten if he was still using.

No. He did still deserve that. Despite everything, he deserved to have Gabi in his life, and deserved to have a life sober. It was fucking poison, not just for his body but his soul and his life and his sense of self and even if it hurt, even if…

Even if you never come back to him. Because you told him he needs to fix himself for himself.

What you meant to him…what he had with you before he fucked it up, it meant everything to him. It wasn’t right to just get completely blitzed out to get through the pain. He needed to feel the pain. You deserved that, at least.

Before he can think about it he scoops the powder into his palm and runs to the toilet, throws the powder and the rest of the dime bag in, and flushes. Then he heads straight to bed.

He stayed in bed for days. Yea, he got up to eat, use the bathroom, answer “are you alive” texts, eat some crap junk food. But immediately after he would collapse back into bed.

He jacked off thinking of you constantly and hated himself for it. Your smile, the way you whimper his name as you came on his cock, he’d scroll through your secret nasty WhatsApp chat blowing his load to everything you’d texted to him, the voice notes you’d send him when he was at work of you masterbating and thinking of him…

That last time he’d fucked you when you’d been sleepy on the couch only in one of his old giant tshirts, how he’d pulled your panties to the side to look at you, so perfect and flushed. He’d placed a pretty kiss against your pussy and crawled over you, pulling his boxers down and pushed himself into you, groaning with a smile as your eyes fluttered open with a gasp. He’d slowly rocked into you as you whimpered in his ear, “Frankie Frankie Frankie Frankie I love you I love you I love you…” He had kissed you as you came because he loved hearing your moans vibrate against his lips.

That one time you joked about getting pregnant while he was fucking you and he had cum so fast he didn’t even know what happened.

Your pretty eyes looking up at him as you sucked him off, taking him deep and letting him cum where he wanted.

Your laughter.

Your smell. The sheets on your side of the bed still smelled like you, and after he orgasmed to you, he’d fall asleep clutching the pillow you used, burrowing his head into it as far as he could to remember your smell, pretending it was really you. Your smell was fading. It scared him.

He started not caring about meals when he learned you'd apparently blocked all his friends, even Benny.

It’s really over.

He slept for days. Because at least when he was asleep, he was either with you, or not conscious to realize he wasn’t.

You wake up to your entire body vibrating and your head searing with pain. The ground is cold, hard, and smells weird and your skin sticks to its texture. You feel liquid dripping slowly from your scalp and you try to wipe your brow but you can’t, and as you emerge from the foggyness in your head, you discover you have your hands bound and arms pulled behind your back. Your legs were bound too, all the way up to the knee and wow, obviously that’s why your shoulders and neck hurt so much.

You’re further disoriented as whatever transport you are in swerves in a tilt to the right and you slide across the floor and into a pile of boxes against the wall. A corner hits you in the back and you almost gasp out all your air from the force but you had a nasty rag stuffed in your mouth.

“Eh!” A sharp voice from further up in the vehicle calls. “You stop moving or I throw you out the plane!”

The plane. The rumbling was from you being in the fucking air, the texture sticking to your body was the metal framework of the cabin, and you didn’t know where the fuck you were going. You try to slow your breathing so you don’t hyperventilate and panic.

Surely the government watches all the planes flying around, right? They can’t just fly a plane in the airspace without them noticing? Right?!

But the plan is not stopped, not challenged, not asked to land.

You look over the top of the boxes and notice there’s a window, and you struggle to push yourself up against the cartons with your bound hands to stand, and continuing to use those boxes, you shimmy on bound legs to look out the tiny window.

You were flying over the ocean.

No one will be able to find you.

It’s finally too much. So you cry.

#pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic

235 notes · View notes