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faerieroyal · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 !

— ❥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 + 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

( warnings: some swearing, mentions of violence )

the first thing will offers to do for you after you’ve started dating is a simple one. the two of you are just hanging out in your living room sofa, his head on your lap and your fingers stroking through his hair, while a made-for-tv movie that neither of you are really paying any attention to plays on the screen in front of you. you haven’t been following the plot of it at all for the last fifteen minutes, instead focused on the silky feeling of the blond strands brushing over your fingertips, and it’s fairly clear that will isn’t either; his eyes are closed most of the way, his face completely relaxed in a way that you haven’t really seen it since the two of you had met, and he looks like he’s about five seconds away from falling asleep as long as you keep up what you’re doing.

eventually, the tv switches from the movie to a commercial, replacing the image of a conventionally pretty woman smiling with tears in her eyes (you’re pretty sure she and her love interest have just confessed their feelings for each other, but you couldn’t say for sure) with the latest model of some kind of all-terrain vehicle driving up a hill to the sound of heavy country music and a scratchy-voiced narrator. the sight of the vehicles brings a memory rushing back into your mind, and, forgetting that you’ve been focused on being quiet and letting will get some rest, you blurt out, “ah, shit, i forgot to fill up my car.”

“hmmm?” will mumbles in response, stirring slightly in your lap. you curse yourself for pulling him out of that nice space between sleeping and waking he seemed to be in, but you also know that if you don’t respond, he’ll keep asking and wake himself up even more. will hates not having clarification, hates when people don’t repeat themselves when someone else hasn’t heard what they’ve said; you imagine it’s because he spent so long in the military, having everything he was supposed to do explained to him clearly, directly, and very loudly.

“i was just saying, i forgot to fill up my car,” you explain, resuming your stroking of his hair in an attempt to lull him back into that sleepy space. “i meant to when i was coming home from the grocery store earlier, but there was a lot of traffic and i got kind of stressed out from that and forgot. i’ll have to leave for work a little earlier tomorrow so i can fill up on the way.”

you imagine that explanation should do it, that will will give a little nod or hum in understanding and relax under your hand again, but he doesn’t. instead, he abruptly heaves himself up from your lap until he’s sitting up beside you, rubbing his eyes, and mumbling, “i’ll go fill it up for you.”

“what?” you ask, your brain being slow to catch up to this sudden change of events. by the time you fully comprehend what’s going on, will has already stood up from the sofa and is grabbing the hoodie he’d shucked off when he’d lain down on you, and you stand up yourself, reaching out for him. “will, no, wait, you don’t have to do that. i’ll just do it tomorrow, it’s fine.”

“yeah, but you hate having to get up so early for work anyway,” he responds, voice muffled as he yanks the hoodie over his head. “it’ll suck if you have to get up even earlier just for this. and i don’t mind saving you the trouble.” you see his face again as it pops out of the neck of the hoodie, his hair messy and eyes still somewhat clouded from being half asleep. “where are your keys?”

“in the bowl right by the door,” you say without thinking, then promptly shake your head. “you really don’t have to do this, i can just-”

“i know i don’t have to,” will cuts you off, looking at you seriously. “but i want to. do you want me to get anything else while i’m gone, like a snack for you or somethin’?”

you just look at him for a minute - a bit confused at the tunr this afternoon has taken, but also marvelling, just a bit, at how you’ve managed to land a guy like this: a guy who will give up a few more hours of lazy cuddling and head pets just to go fill up your car for you. you’re not quite sure what deity or higher power you have to thank for planting will miller into your life, but whoever they are, you think, they definitely do have your thanks.

finally, you shake your head, smiling faintly. “no, thanks, i’m good. but thank you for this, will, seriously.”

he kisses the side of your head, assures you that there’s no need thank him, and despite what you said, returns half an hour later with a small bag of your favorite chips, your gas tank filled, reassurances that you don’t have to pay him back for it, and a smile on his face.

and it doesn’t stop there. after that first time, will starts offering to do a million little things for you without you even thinking of asking you to do them. one of your doors keeps squeaking whenever you open it; he fishes some oil out of your garage and has it opening and closing soundlessly in ten minutes. you groan about having forgotten something when you were grocery shopping; he either goes to get it right then or brings some with him the next time he comes over. you get a little bit nervous about ordering when the two of you go out to a restaurant; he makes sure of what you want and tells the waiter without a hint of judging you for being nervous or anything.

it’s so amazingly, incredibly sweet, all of it. the fact that he barely even seems to think about doing any of these things for you, the fact that he won’t accept any direct repayment for doing them and, in fact, goes a little pink in the ears when you verbally thank him for it and say how sweet it is. and it’s not just you, either; you’ve seen him do similar things for his friends and his brother, fixing up a cracked beam on frankie’s porch when he’s been too overwhelmed with rehab and taking care of his daughter or bailing benny out whenever he gets arrested for getting into a bar fight.

“i know you don’t like it when i say stuff like this,” you tell him one day, as you’re sitting at your kitchen island enjoying the view while he fixes a leaky pipe under your sink in nothing but a white wife beater and sweatpants. “but i really have to thank you.”

“‘s no problem,” he replies, removing his head from under the sink and leaning back on his hands where he sits on your tile floor. “i mean, you can’t keep washing dishes with a leaking pipe, and most plumbers’ll charge you way too much for a fix this easy. ‘m happy to do it for you.”

“i don’t just mean this,” you say, gesturing at the open sink cabinet and the tools in your boyfriend’s hands. “i mean… for everything. everything you do for me and for everyone else, without us even having to ask for it. without ever expecting anything in return. it means a lot, will, it really does.”

predictably, his face flushes just a bit at your words, and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. it’s ridiculously endearing, you think, seeing this man who’s braved some of the worst horrors known to man turn so shy just from a little gratitude. just another reason you are definitely planning on keeping this guy around for as long as you can.

“well,” he begins, still looking bashful and now staring resolutely at his feet. “i mean, i know i’m not the best with words ‘n all that. me and benny, we just weren’t really raised that way. i mean, he knows i love him ‘n all, i know he loves me, but neither of us are ever uncomfortable just comin’ out and saying it. to each other or anybody else, really. so i guess…” he pauses, lets out a gusty breath before continuing. “doin’ shit like this, fixing up broken stuff and getting groceries ‘n everything, is just sort of my way of saying it. making people’s lives a little bit easier where i can is my way of saying it. that make sense?”

he looks up at you then, and you’re surprised by the nervousness in his eyes - the fact that he thinks this, being more comfortable with acts of service than words, is something you would ever judge him for. it makes you think of what other people he’s dated might have said to him about this kind of thing, which then makes you kind of want to wrap him up in a hug and never let him go.

you know he probably wouldn’t react well to that, though - as much as this man loves affection, he doesn’t know how to react to it a lot of the time - so you settle for smiling softly at him from your seat at the island, hoping that this along with the look in your eyes conveys exactly how much you would never judge him.

“it makes perfect sense,” you assure him, voice soft and impossibly fond. “and for the record - if this is how you show your love, then i think it’s a pretty good way of doing it.”

a fond, bashful smile creeping onto his face, will lets out a soft chuckle. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and that’s that. the two of you smile at each other for another silent, sweet moment, and then he goes back to fixing your sink pipe, and you go back to watching him. watching him say, with every twist of his wrench now and every little helpful action in the past and every one to come, i love you, i love you, i love you.

triple frontier taglist: @hiya-itsamber, @fairyofthehollow !

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

#(.⋆꙳‧ my works !! ‧꙳⋆.)#— ❥ dolly writes drabbles !!#— ❥ valentine’s love language shorts !!#— ❥ dolly’s beloveds: will miller !!#will miller drabble #will miller imagine #will miller x reader #triple frontier drabble #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier x reader #gender-neutral reader

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cosmickid-inmotion · 1 year ago

Note

Will Miller

Valentine's Day

Go!

You are getting WOO'd

mentions of sexy time and insecurity

Will knows how to romance a woman, having had a fiancé before. With that having broken apart with his PTSD ruining everything good in his life, Will is always worried he's gonna mess it up or he's not doing enough. He overcompensates.

You wake to flowers, the smell of breakfast being made for you and already, you are determined to give your husband special treatment.

You had a cute gift, one of those matching couples keychains with your song on it, but that wasn't going to be enough. No, Will deserved more.

You let him do his breakfast for you, giving him a quick blowjob just to start his work day *right*

Will had an edible arrangement delivered to your work a few hours in, just as you were about to reach for a snack in your purse. fucker knows you like snacks. Goddammit, he's got ahead of you. You call around on your break, trying to see if you can get flowers or chocolate delivered but of course everyone is booked. You tried to see if you could leave early, wanting to get home before Will and start dinner knowing that was his move too but your boss said no. Dammit.

You said him a few lovey texts throughout the day, and it seems everything you say, Will out does you. You needed to fucking up your game. Will deserved so much, he deserved everything and all you got was a stupid keychain.

The store you stopped at in a rush was sold out of everything good and all you find is a cheesy kids Valentines Day box with dinosaurs on it. He told you him and Ben liked playing dinosaurs as kids right? That was one of his favorite games, right? no. Stupid. Between that and the keychain you looked like you were half assing something Will obviously planned.

You come home defeated, only to find a candlelit dinner there for you and Will dressed up. You were not looking your best after a long day of work.

You start crying.

Will's smile dropped, rushing over to take him in your arms. "Princess what's wrong?"

Embarrassed, you have the gift and the chocolate, sniffling and waiting for a disappointed face.

Instead, you see Will light up. "Baby!" He exclaims. "I love it! Thank you!"

"No." You whimper, shaking your head. "This is all I got..." You explain that you feel like your efforts were pathetic compared to his and you worried you weren't showing him how much you loved him. Will listened, his blue eyes bright on you and when you were done he pulled you in again, kissing your forehead.

"Princess, you are my Valentine." Will says earnestly. "And these gifts? They are so thoughtful. You remembered how much me and Benny loved playing dinosaurs, and you gave me a reminder to take everywhere of you and our song, a reminder how much you love me."

"But... You do so much for me, look at all this!" You gesture to the nice dinner.

"It's not a competition. You show your love for me daily. You pack me lunch with cute love notes in them." He kissed into your hair. "You massage my back." He kisses your nose. "You are always careful closing doors and cabinets and drawers to not startle me." He kisses your lips and pulls away to allow you to look at him.

"But that's not anything special" You concede. "I do that because I love you, and you do stuff for me, all the time."

"Yeah." He chuckles with good nature. "Because I love you too. We're in love, we're a married couple. A team. Some days I give more, some days you give more. This year, I happened to want to go all out, but last year you booked us a whole weekend getaway, remember?"

Oh. Yeah. That. "Well... yeah okay."

Will hugs you close, his strong arms comforting you. "I love you, and I love your gifts. I love being at a place in life where I can sit down and eat a homemade dinner with my beautiful wife."

You relax, taking a big wife of the food he made. For a white man with English blood, he sure knew how to cook. "Can I shower before we eat?"

"Of course, princess. you feel better?"

"Yeah." You smile at him, but you still had another idea to treat him, and that's why you wanted to shower. before you dressed up nice for the lovely dinner, you slip on your best lingerie.

***************

Love you doll sorry its late!

#will miller #will miller x reader #William miller x reader #William miller #valentines day #triple frontier #triple frontier drabble #William miller drabbles

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angelickks · 1 month ago

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💿 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝑹𝑼𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝑬¹¹¹

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||

a soundtrack of absolute chaos and filth. lyric-inspired smut drabble collection. pedro pascal! characters x fem!reader nsfw, mdni 18+

main pedro pascal mlist!

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀

01. LES — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“Girl, I wanna know, are you ready to cry? ʻCause I'm no good.” He tells you he’s bad for you. Then makes you come so hard you forget your own name. emotionally unavailable sex • self-destruction • filthy confessions disguised as fucking

02. OFF TO THE RACES — Harry Castillo

♬⋆.˚“My old man is a bad man, but I can’t deny the way he holds my hand…” He pays for dinner, your shoes, and the bruise on your thigh. sugar daddy dynamics • power play • possessive luxury

03. SHE WILL BE LOVED — Francisco “Frankie” Morales

♬⋆.˚“I’ve had you so many times, but somehow I want more.” He always thinks he’s not enough. So when you show up again, he fucks you like a man starving. possesive!frankie • friends with benefits and feelings • pure desperation

04. NORMAN FUCKING ROCKWELL — Javier Peña

♬⋆.˚“You fucked me so good I almost said ‘I love you.’” He’s chaotic. You’re worse. You fight. You fuck. You stay. biting banter • sex as emotional warfare

05. TOUCH TANK — Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

♬⋆.˚“He’s so pretty when he goes down on me.” The kind of man who tastes luxury and makes you beg for more.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐁

06. PYRAMIDS — Din Djarin

♬⋆.˚“You say it’s big, but you take it—Ride cowgirl.” The helmet stays on. You don’t complain.

07. LOVE IS STRANGE — Francisco “Frankie” Morales

♬⋆.˚“How do you call your loverboy? Baby, oh baby…” He’s always at your beck and call

08. FATHER FIGURE — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“I’d love to be your daddy. Anything you have in mind.” He’s too old. You’re too eager. It works.

09. BABYDOLL — Francisco “Frankie” Morales

♬⋆.˚“I can’t move on, babydoll.” He begs with his mouth, not his words.

10. DEVIL’S BACKBONE — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you. He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone” He’s bad. You want him anyway.

11. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE — Harry Castillo

♬⋆.˚“Don’t bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice.” You look too pretty to cry—but he makes you anyway.

12. ULTRAVIOLENCE — Marcus Acacius

♬⋆.˚“He hit me and it felt like a kiss.” He’s war incarnate. You kneel anyway.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐂

13. TOO SWEET — Javier Peña

♬⋆.˚“You’re too sweet for me. I take my whiskey neat.” You’re soft. He’s not. That’s why it works.

14. ME AND MR. JONES(MILLER) — Joel Miller

♬⋆.˚“Nobody stands between me and my man.” You’re his little secret, until you’re the only thing he can think about.

15. SILVER SPRINGS — Marcus Pike

♬⋆.˚“You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you.” You stayed in his sheets. Even after you left.

16. YOU’RE SO VAIN — Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

♬⋆.˚“You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you.” He’s smug, Southern, and sinfully good between your thighs—and he knows it.

17. THE CHAIN — Clint Flood

♬⋆.˚“If you don’t love me now, you will never love me again.” He says he’s done with you. But God help the man who touches you next.

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐧' 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞�� 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐊𝐒

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 1 month ago

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boys like you

Frankie Morales x Benny Miller | wc ~1.3k | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: a movie night gets steamy, Stallone means making out, basically no plot

warnings: mlm, homophobes might feel a slight tingle in their panties, established relationship, dry humping, finger sucking, cumshot, oral, petnames (baby, pretty boy), a dash of dirty talk and praise, Spanish (guapo=handsome, mírame=look at me)

a/n: my follower milestone drabble for @qunariagenda, thank you so much for asking for some FishBen!! I chose the movie nights prompt (but the guys are pretty good with their hands, so I'm giving myself a half point for that). I hope you like it! and special thanks, as always, to @guiltyasdave for the beta and hype 💛

songspiration: boys like you - tanerélle (i LOVE her, check her out)

With Benny it has always been about his hands and fingers. Plucking the strings of his guitar, at night when they were deployed in some sandy hole or wet ditch. Punching some opponent straight in the face during a fight. Holding a gun. Pulling a trigger. Fighting for his life with his hands trying to crush a windpipe of someone who's been declared as their enemy. Cutting up herbs and meat for a legendary BBQ. Pulling women onto the dancefloor and feeling them up with a boyish grin that lets him get away with almost anything. Pulling Frankie in for a kiss, fingers splayed on his nape.

Like right now.

Both of them haven’t paid much attention to the movie they wanted to watch. Something with Sylvester Stallone, which always means making out. Because they know all of Stallone’s movies, like the back of their–

“–hand,” Benny mutters, not even completely breaking away from the kiss. “Give me your hand.”

Something about this big guy and his low voice make Frankie cave, always. Especially when Benny sounds so sweet, needy, already sucking Frankie’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it. Like he can’t get enough. Maybe he really can’t get enough.

Frankie holds out his hand, the one he reluctantly pulled away from Benny’s hair, and a dazed smile spreads on his face when Benny rubs his cheek into his palm.

The smile turns into a bitten lip when Benny starts guiding their intertwined hands down, along his neck and the rumpled tshirt, slow, so damn slow over his stomach, flexing his muscles because he knows it makes Frankie twitch in his shorts, and then down the front his sweats.

Rubbing. Pressing, making Frankie’s fingers wrap around the thick outline of his hard cock.

“You feel this? Feel how hard I am for you?”

Benny tightens his grip around himself and Frankie's hand, tentatively palming himself, groaning when he gets back on top of Frankie. Slotting so perfectly between the thighs of the older man and trapping his hand between their bodies, between their straining cocks.

“Say it, Morales,” Benny murmurs, his voice honeyed and scraping before he gently nips on Frankie’s earlobe.

“Dios, I feel it.”

He gasps, the air knocked out of his lungs when Benny cages him in between his arms and starts grinding against him, against his hand, against his own hard-on. Frankie can’t move his hand, all he can do is feel how Benny rolls his hips back and forth, pushing the whole length of his clothed cock over Frankie’s palm and further until he feels Frankie’s finger curl over his balls.

Benny grunts with his face hidden in the crook of the other man's neck, then pulls his hips back and slowly pushes forward again. The same pace Frankie likes to set to feel Benny writhe and plead. Faster, oh god, baby, please, just a lil’ faster. He never goes faster. Nice and slow ‘till the end.

Frankie knows that there will be no faster for him tonight. It’s just this. Torturously slow. High friction. Back. And forth. Back again. Until one of them starts cussing and begging.

He gives in. Pinned down under Benny’s body he surrenders. Next time it will be his turn again.

“Guapo,” Frankie moans softly, answering Benny’s movements with his own, canting to feel more. “So pretty for me.”

Benny chuckles, breathlessly, burrowing his flushing cheeks deeper into Frankie’s shoulder. Perhaps there’s a stutter in the ebb and flood, his back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Mírame.” An order, a loving one. Frankie’s free hand tugs on Benny’s hair until their eyes meet. Blue framed with strawberry blonde, flecks of gold littered over his skin, all over his body; Frankie knows this, familiar with every freckle his love has.

“Pretty boy,” he says, tongue and lids heavy, weighted down by the heat and longing between them.

Benny’s hips stutter again, every praise making him lose his rhythm. Flustered that Frankie can still make him blush like he makes the girls blush.

“Stop it,” he mutters but soon is silenced by Frankie thumbing his bottom lip. Hips snap forward, eyes widen, Frankie’s thumb pushes between Benny’s lips.

The muffled moan resembles the one that fills their four walls whenever Benny is nestled between Frankie’s legs to make them both forget about their day. Lips puckered, tongue lapping, hollowed cheeks. The same praise.

“So good for me. Just like that, baby…”

Frankie sets the pace now, pushing his finger deeper into Benny’s hot mouth and pulling back out. Benny’s movements mirror Frankie's, the back and forth, faster now because he can’t tell his needs apart. His mouth is needy, his cock is, too. Both messy, both leaking.

Frankie knows the look on Benny’s face, he’s gone, chasing release, grinding himself against the heel of Frankie’s palm, moaning around his finger, drunk on the man beneath him.

“Gonna come for me?” Frankie purrs, just as close but not ready yet. “Gonna let me feel how desperate you are, hm?”

Benny whines, spit sticking to his beard when Frankie replaces his thumb with his index and middle finger instead. Nodding his head and ignoring the tingle in the back of his throat when he sucks the fingers deeper into his mouth.

“Already making a mess for me…” Frankie tuts, relishing in Benny’s rutting growing sloppy. It’s not even back and forth anymore, just desperately canting into Frankie’s hand, now that he found the exact spot that will send him over the edge.

“That's it. That's my pretty boy. Show me, I wanna see you.”

He hooks his thumb behind the waistband of Benny’s sweats and with the next movement they are getting tugged down enough for him to understand. Frankie’s fingers slip from his mouth when Benny sits back on his heels, pushing his sweats and boxers down just enough.

It doesn't take much for Benny. Just a few hasty and hard strokes and the sight of Frankie licking his lips and pulling his shirt up to bare his stomach, and he is spilling all over his fist and Frankie’s exposed skin.

His whole body jerks when he pulls his hand away, a shaky laugh escaping him when he hears Frankie mutter a gorgeous.

“You always get me with those damn praises,” Benny huffs softly and unceremoniously pulls down the other man’s shorts.

Frankie's cock springs free, leaking, sensitive from the grinding and humping, his balls, heavy and full, already tight and tucked high. With that boyish smirk of his, Benny slots between Frankie’s thighs again.

The flat of his tongue moves up, from Frankie’s balls over his cock and through the sticky happy trail, relishing the moans and the hand in his hair and the taste of his cum mixing with Frankie’s. Benny grins, like a cat that got cream, and licks up his own spent before he finally, fucking finally, wraps his lips around Frankie’s sensitive tip.

The fingers in his hair tighten when Benny starts bobbing his head and hollows his cheeks again. And before Frankie can start uttering out his praise, Benny reaches up and offers his still sticky fingers to him.

Two, then three fingers get sucked into Frankie’s mouth with a low moan. Hips snapping in the same rhythm as the fingers get pushed between his lips. A steady back and forth.

It has always been about Benny's hands and fingers. Plucking on Frankie’s heartstrings or the drawstrings of his shorts, curling around his cock, carding through his hair at night.

Or holding hands while he makes Frankie come in his mouth. Cupping the man’s jaw with licked clean fingers. Caressing his cheek when he pushes himself up so they can share a kiss and their flavors.

“That was nice,” Benny whispers, sucking the last bit of salty taste from Frankie’s lips.

“Yeah, it was.” Frankie smirks, wiping the corner of Benny’s mouth with his fingertip. “Should we start the movie over?”

every time someone likes queer content a homophob gets horny in public. help them out, support queer artists!

also: let me know how I did with my first ever attempt at FishBen, preferably with words, thanks! 🫶✌️

follower milestone drabble masterlist here

general masterlist here

dividers: @saradika-graphics

#drabbles bribery #fishben #frankie morales x benny miller #frankie morales #benny miller x frankie morales #benny miller #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom #mlm #mlm fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #my writing #Frankie Morales x ben miller

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sweetercalypso · 1 year ago

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frankie masterlist || main masterlist || graphics || wc: 0.5k

Thinking about Frankie sneaking away to call you while he’s spending time with the boys.

Between their complicated schedules and busy lives, it can be hard to get everyone together in one place long enough to sit back and relax. It’s the first time in months that they’ve all been available to meet up, but the only thing Frankie can think about is coming home to you when the night’s over.

The boys are lounging in Santi’s backyard while the evening stretches on, thick with the warmth of the impending summer months. It’s late and Benny is telling a story that they’ve all heard at least three times before, evident by the way the others occasionally interject with their own versions of the narrative.

Frankie nods along and laughs when prompted, but it’s clear that his mind is elsewhere. It’s hard for him to focus on his friends when his mind is so desperately craving you.

When there’s finally a lull in the conversation, Frankie stands and stretches with a groan before pointing towards the house with the excuse of grabbing another drink. Santi distractedly waves him off and asks that he bring enough back for everyone, but Frankie’s already halfway across the yard before he can finish his sentence.

He slides the patio door open and steps inside, grabbing his phone from his pocket and dialing your number from memory.

The phone rings twice before Frankie remembers the time and mentally kicks himself for calling so late, but the need to be close to you outweighs his self-abasement. He considers hanging up and shrugging off the ache that’s settled in his chest, but before he can make a decision, the phone finally clicks and-

“Frankie?”

“Hey,” he breathes, instantly soothed by the tired lilt of your voice, dampened by the sound of empty static.

The cool air in Santi’s house makes Frankie shudder as he turns and props his hand against the wall, folding in on himself as if to conceal his conversation, a precious moment caught between two worlds.

“Just calling to check in, and…” he trails off, eyes glued to the floor as he shifts in place, breathing deeply into the speaker. “-and hear your voice.”

Deep, boisterous laughter thunders through the open patio door and Frankie cups his hand over the bottom of his phone to block the noise. He thinks he hears you hum in response, but the sound is drowned out by the commotion outside.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah,” he answers honestly, the corners of his mouth quirked into an easy smile. He tucks his chin to his chest and listens for your response, only halfway following what you’re saying. He hadn’t meant to wake you up, he just needed to know that you were still there.

The line falls silent and Frankie holds his breath. He considers thanking you for picking up the phone, but he knows his gratitude wouldn’t make sense. Instead, he listens for a moment longer and reluctantly says goodnight, content to return to the boys now that he’s had his fix.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

#thinking about…#Frankie Morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #frankie x reader #frankie morales drabble #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier x you #drabble

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pimosworld · 1 year ago

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I can’t wait to see where this series goes. The tf boys hold a special place in my heart and im not afraid to say I’ve had thoughts about this scenario.

Room's on Fire: Pilot

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

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

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

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

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

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

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

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

Will smacked Ben upside the head as Frankie chided him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They needed their Madonna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you think she’s intact?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Biblical precedent…” Will murmured in agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it is, of course, your choice.”

Your choice…

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

There was no choice.

“I am a servant to my lords.”

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

The what?

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

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

“Oh. Yes, of course then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod within his grasp. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Is that a bad thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My Madonna.”

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

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

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

How to keep up with the story!

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

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

TAGLIST:

@hon3yboy @winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado

if I missed you LMK!!!!

#triple frontier #dark triple frontier #santiago garcia #dark francisco morales #triple frontier drabble #triple frontier au

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pimosworld · 1 year ago

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Five more minutes

Pairing - Francisco morales x f! Reader (hints of Santiago Garcia)

CW-18+, MDNI,NSFW, smut, oral f receiving, established relationship, teasing, overstimulation.

A/N- This little Drabble is part of a series I’ve been teasing for awhile. Stay tuned 🤍

“Frankie please I can’t.” Your blunt nails dig into his scalp as he growls into your pussy. Your legs draped over his shoulders with his head buried between your thighs.

“Yes you can…give me one more.” He chuckles as you try to squirm away from him on the bathroom counter. His strong hands pull you forward as your head hits the mirror. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” You gasp as his tongue circles your clit, his fingers dip into your center stroking that spot that has you seeing stars.

“You’re right…I’m not.” His husky voice and the scratch of his beard on your thighs has you trembling. He can tell you’re close as you dig the heel of your wedges into his back. “Come on baby, you’re almost there.” You whine as his mouth sucks hard on your clit, his thick fingers pressing down on the bundle of nerves.

You might come up with a few locks of his hair after this but he doesn’t seem to care as he works you through your climax.

“I’ve been waiting for five minutes in the truck.” Santi’s teasing voice breaks through the haze as he leans against the bathroom door.

Frankie sits back on his heels, your slick dripping from his chin and a stupid grin across his face. “Five more minutes.”

You look to Santi for assistance but he just smirks and sets his watch timer. “It’s your fault for wearing that dress.”

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

tagging a few who might be interested-@heareball@for-a-longlongtime@romana-after-dark@legendary-pink-dot@ghostslillady@casa-boiardi@survivingandenduring@romanarose

#francisco morales #frankie x f!reader x santiago #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pimowrites #frankie morales x ofc #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier drabble

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gnpwdrandsnshine · 3 months ago

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Tom had said it, there at the beginning, right before it was too late to back out, he'd told them they couldn't go back to their normal lives after this.

Frankie hadn't believed him. Not really. Not until after Tom was gone and most of the money was gone and everything had gone to absolute shit.

He's standing there in that ridiculous shirt, clean shaven for the first time in he can't remember when, brand new fake passport burning a hole in his back pocket and he knows without a doubt he can go absolutely anywhere he wants.

Except home.

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales moodboard #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #drabble #perfect 100 words #*chefs kiss*

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berryispunk · 8 months ago

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Mouth(y) confessions

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

summary: You fight with your boyfriend and he apologizes in the best way he knows how. notes: A short drabble. Spontaneous idea, as always. Highly inspired by the talk with my dear @millersocean <3. The new BTS Frankie pics also made me feel some things, so here you go.

warnings: oral (f receiving), filth, smut, some dirty talk, established relationship, pwp, no mentions of y/n, no physical description of reader, Frankie the king strikes again, nicknames, if you squint Frankie is a cute boy in this

Jodidamente precioso = fucking beautiful

word count: 1k

“You’re so freakin’ cute when you’re mad,” is the last sentence you are able to hear before Frankie’s dark curls dip down between your thighs. Gentle but with the right amount of firmness his large, slightly calloused hands separate your legs.

“So wet already, mi amor,” he purrs as his perfect nose presses against the already dampened fabric of your panties, inhaling you as his warm, dark brown eyes look up between your legs and the heat starts to pool even more. Fuck.

You shouldn’t do this. You should talk this through with him, finding a solution like two proper adults but instead you find yourself being spread open on the couch with your boyfriend kneeling on the floor in front of you. It’s always like this with Frankie. Every time the two of you fight you’re ending up fucking and afterwards you always forget why you were mad about in the first place.

You’ve privately called it the “Frankie effect”.

Sometimes you even consider if he does that on purpose. Fighting with you just because it makes the makeup afterwards so much more rewarding. Maybe he’s some kind of masochist, you think. But who are you to deny him what he’s best at? Why let words spill when a mouth, in his case, is so much more powerful eating you out.

His gaze is still on you as he starts to take off your underwear slowly, almost torturously slow while your eyes are still locked. He pulls it down your legs, burying his face in the fabric for a moment, his eyes closed and when he opens them back up they are so much darker, almost predatory before putting them into the back pocket of his jeans.

He grabs your hips, scooting you to the edge of the couch and for a moment it feels like falling, but you don’t because his grip on your thighs is steady and you put your heels on his shoulder blades for support. He kisses the inside of your thighs, sloppy open-mouthed kisses that leave nothing but fire in their wake, slightly sucking and teasing, causing you to squirm under him. His stubble scratches you along with the kisses, in a good way.

“So impatient,” he grins against your thighs. He enjoys this more than he should. Never before have you met a guy that finds this much satisfaction in his partner’s pleasure. But you’re more than willing to give in, give him all of you. That’s the thing with Frankie. He has this ability to always make you feel incredibly at ease even when you’re spread wide open for him, with your pussy already leaking and fully exposed to his hungry gaze.

His tongue trails out, licking all the way up to your wet center. His breath is hot against your skin, making it prickle in anticipation as he finally stops right over your leaking cunt and gives it a quick kiss before his fingers glide over your slick folds. His index and middle fingers ease into you and wet noise fills the room.

“Damn baby,” he aspirates in appreciation. You feel the sound between your thighs. “Look at you soaking for me… Jodidamente precioso.”

In any other circumstance your cheeks would burn in embarrassment but not with him. Not when he manages to make even dirty talk sound hot with your cunt squeezing his fingers which start to move inside you. Slowly and steady as he lowers his mouth onto you as well and it causes you to moan loudly, your hands finding his messy hair and pulling on it, your hips bucking to meet his welcoming mouth.

His tongue focuses solely on your clit, circling around it, sucking at it and it’s almost too much to bear while his fingers glide in and out of you causing you to moan intensely. His movements match your own perfectly, the way you basically fuck yourself on his fingers. You squeeze his head with your thighs, a bit too firm probably but Frankie doesn’t even flinch; instead his free hand finds your thigh and his nails dig into it.

“Frankie… please,” you whimper, needy and desperate. The knot in your lower body is about to snap any second. He knows it has to because he doubles his effort, his tongue drawing faster circles around your little bundle of nerves as his fingers flex inside of you. You know you’re done for.

You dig your heels into his back and feel like floating as you seek your orgasm, your thighs closing involuntarily only stopped by his head still between your thighs. He hums deeply against your clenching and leaking hole. You can’t form any words, the only thing leaving your lips is his name as your release washes over you like a tidal wave.

Frankie gently caresses the outsides of your thighs, kissing your inner thighs as his thumbs draw circles on your skin and he looks up to you. His lips shining with your juices, his eyes still dark but also so full of affection it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. He comes up completely, hovering over you, his strong arms on either side of your head as he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle but passionate kiss making you taste yourself on his lips. Even if the kiss is rather gentle it leaves no doubt he’s not done with you yet and you smile at that insight.

“I hope this was a good apology,” he says, his forehead resting on yours.

“Well,” you start while undoing the zipper of his jeans, your hand gliding into his boxers. His hard length is twitching beneath your hand, already leaking some precum, making Frankie snap his head back and he hisses between gritted teeth. You love that sound so much that your grin widens. “It’s a start… But I know you can do better than that,” you purr and Frankie looks at you again, studying your face before he grins back

“Let me show you how sorry I really am then, mi amor.”

#francisco morales #triple frontier #frankie morales #drabble #oneshot #x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #smut #fem reader #pwp fics #berryfiction #pedrostories

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ambitiouspotions · 3 months ago

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THE NIGHTLY UPDATE | FRANKIE MORALES | DRABBLE

summary — in which papi⁽ᵈᵃᵈᵈʸ⁾frankie is catching up with you after his day at work

word count — 671

warnings — cute domestic fluff only

author’s note — surprise! something quick because my jesse pinkman thing is not done and also bc it’s FRANKIE FRIDAY! also do you guys like the superscript when translating? idk how i feel about it but still wanted to give a real time translation (will add to other fics if it is good)

“i believe they call that motherhood,” frankie laughed softly, turning on his side to face you. you had told him parts of your toddler’s cranky day, and your inability to console him. the creaky ceiling fan rattled every few seconds, but the soft popping sound you heard was from his aching joints.

you were spooning ice cream into your mouth, looking into your husband's eyes. those were the eyes you fell in love with; they smiled when he did. the gentle, inviting deep brown eyes that you used to judge if you made your morning coffee correctly. it was just enough creamer to turn your black brew into the softness his carob-colored eyes held when the sun hit his face.

“i know, but i–” you stopped yourself. you could probably never find the true reason that your toddler cried when you broke his banana in half, or why the entire day seemed like a battle. there was no point dwelling on irrational temper tantrums or nondescript whining coming from an almost two-year-old. tomorrow would be a new day with a fresh start. “never mind. honestly, i'm just happy you're home.”

frankie took the loaded spoon out of your hand and fed himself a bite of the strawberry-laced ice cream. “was hopin’ you’d say that, mamita ⁽ᵐᵒᵐᵐʸ⁾.” his words were slightly distorted with his full mouth, though he laid his head into your lap, even after a shower his hair was a mess. it never laid flat, cowlicks were the reason he had an arsenal of baseball caps at his disposal. “so after the banana debacle he was fine?” frankie questioned, placing a quick kiss on your inner thigh, his lips lingering for a few moments.

“oh, no that would be too easy,” you rolled your eyes while stifling a laugh, as he reached to put the spoon back in the ice cream pint. “he was mad he had to put on pants before we went on a walk,” you swatted frankie's hand away as he pinched your side lightly.

“my poor mijo⁽ᵈᵃʳˡᶦⁿᵍ⁾ is being raised by a tyrant,” frankie's tone was dripping with exaggeration as you held the spoon in your mouth, muffling your feigned scoff.

“to him, you wouldn't be wrong.” you reached over, putting the empty pint on the nightstand. your cold hand caressed his patchy beard and the tufts of hair next to his ear.

“well,” frankie closed his eyes as he spoke. the warmness of your lap after a long week of work was the cure he needed. “i'm always right, so he's just listening to me.”

you shook your head, your fingers now trying to lay down your husband's stray and greying hair. “i like to think that i'm the one that is always right, but nice try.”

frankie opened one eye, a gruff exhale leaving him. “when's our anniversary?” he knew he could get you wound up with that question.

“that was one time! i forgot one time! and we still celebrated even if it was a week early,” you tried to rationalize your mistake again. though you knew frankie didn't mind because he always used it as his favorite way to pester you.

frankie's small fit of laughter was silenced as he lazily pulled himself up far enough to place a kiss on your lips. you reluctantly kissed him back, the remnants of a scowl on your face.

“no, mamita, a real one, like you mean it,” he insisted, holding your cheek. you couldn't deny him that request even with his badgering. your hand rested on his neck, your fingers still playing in his locks that hit his tattered and faded sleep shirt. you were accustomed to those kisses, easily remembering your place within his as you shared another kiss. a kiss that lasted a few moments longer, one that gave nothing to complain about, just a mindful reminder that you were together. it was one that would leave both of you speechless after it was over because it just felt so errorless and entirely too satisfying.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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Drabble Roulette: You made your bed

For this round, drabbles are written based on a random choice of character and image from this pinterest board. Pls feel free to keep adding to it.

Character: William "Ironhead" Miller

Prompt

Warnings: this drabble includes elements such as mentions of violence, stealing, and death. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

The motel has that smell to it. They all do. The furniture is outdated but what can you expect with burnt out neon sign and cash payment.

You don’t have a choice. This is where you’ll be for the night. The gun barrel jabbing under your shoulder blade urges you inside as the man behind you breathes down your back. He doesn’t have to order you inside as you break the threshold without a word.

He pokes you away from him with the nuzzle and you march ahead. He snaps the door shut behind him and you wince, instinctively moving to cross your arms. He growls.

“Hands up,” he grits.

You obey and face him. He looks you up and down as he holsters the gun. His blue eyes are cold as ice.

“Whatever you think I did--”

“I know what you did,” he insists. “Real clever, little girl.”

You look down and shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been in trouble but the police will let you go for a cut. The people you steal from aren’t so easy to bargain with.

“Gotta survive somehow--”

“Survive?” He scoffs, “I’m sure my buddies will understand that. You’re just scraping the bottom of the bin, aren’t you? A mil sure isn’t just enough to survive.”

“I found it,” you insist. That’s true. You did find the bag, it just happened to be after some very intentional scouting.

“Sure, the fuck you did. Sit down.”

He points to one of the beds. You huff and approach the one near the back wall. You glance over at the box television then at the wrinkled bedspread. You turn and sit heavily so the springs squeak.

“You got it back though,” you argue.

“Don’t act so precious with me, sweetheart.”

You watch him dully as he unzips his jacket and peels it off. He lets out a grunt as he pushes his head to one side then the other. His joints crack loudly.

“Maybe if you hadn’t run, I’d think about it,” he growls.

“What was I supposed to do? What would you do?”

“Not steal from dangerous fucking men,” he barks, “trained men. Do you know what I could do to you?”

You inhale and touch your bruised ribs. You’re more than aware. His gaze follows the subtle movement. He scoffs.

“That was me playing nice.”

“If you’re just taking me wherever to kill me, then you shouldn’t waste all this time. Just do it.”

“Don’t play brave. I know you’re scared.”

“Yeah, I am. So that’s it. You and your buddies get off on it. You gonna use that training to draw it out. Over a fucking bag.”

He snorts and shakes his head, “you’re real fucking cute. I gotta give it to ya, you’re holding it together but...” he pauses and looks down.

His stretches his fingers wide and the veins in his arms bulge. He turns his palms up and closes his fists. He considers his arms closely.

“I promised them I’d bring the culprit back. Alive...” he tilts his head as he looks up, “as long as you’re still breathing...”

You tense and fold your hands in your lap. You gulp.

“Got it. No way out.”

He stares at you. He doesn’t move or speak. Your heart races wildly at the ice in his gaze.

“Gotta shower. We got a long way to go.”

He strides around the other bed and past the one you sit on. He snaps his fingers. You wince and look over your shoulder as he stops by the darkened doorway.

“You think I’m stupid, get the fuck in here,” he snarls.

You look forward again and steel yourself. Your adrenaline pumps hotly as you make yourself stand. You shuffle around to him as he reaches inside to flick on the tinged light. He stands against the frame to let you past. You stagger as he swings his large hand against your ass.

“You can wash my back,” he taunts as he groans and you see him roll his shoulder in the mirror. “Think I pulled something beating your ass.”

#william ironhead miller #dark william ironhead miller #dark!william ironhead miller #william ironhead miller x reader #drabble #drabble roulette #triple frontier

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angelickks · 29 days ago

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03. SHE WILL BE LOVED - Francisco "Frankie" Morales

▶︎ •၊၊||၊“I’ve had you so many times, but somehow I want more.” He always thinks he’s not enough. So when you show up again, he fucks you like a man starving.

𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑽. ᯓ 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑼𝑬 ☰ 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝑹𝑼𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝑬 • pedro pascal mlist!

warning(s). nsfw. mdni 18+. oral (f!recieving). possesive!frankie. friends w/ benefits. toxic. rough sex. emotionally charged af. desparate sex. unprotected p in v. creampie. emotional manipulation. love confession. mention of reader being w other men. desperation desperation desperation. praise kink. lmk if i missed anything! (gif not mine)

pairing. francisco "frankie" morales x fem!reader

YOU SHOW UP AT HIS DOOR AT MIDNIGHT, LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO. Smudged mascara, a dress too tight and laughter still clinging to your skin from whatever man was trying and failing to make you forget him.

Frankie doesn’t ask questions. He just lets you in.

You toe off your heels and shrug past him like you belong here, and maybe you do. He’s had you on this couch. This counter. The floor. His lap. His mouth. And still, still—his throat goes dry every time he sees your skin under his kitchen lights.

It’s always like this with Frankie. Your name half a prayer, half a curse on his lips as he peels your dress off, his hands rough and reverent. Like he’s mad at you for showing up, but even more furious at himself for letting you in again. And you, smirking, glossy-lipped, spine arched, let him. Because you like the way he breaks for you.

“You think I didn’t see you with him tonight?” he mutters, fingers dragging your panties down, breath hot against your throat.

You tilt your head. “Wasn’t trying to hide.”

He huffs a laugh. Bitter. “No, you never do.”

But he drops to his knees anyway, palms hooked under your thighs as he lifts one leg over his shoulder and buries his face between them. His tongue is all fire and fever, slow drags through your folds, a kiss to your clit like a plea for mercy he’ll never voice. He eats you like he’s punishing you for letting someone else touch you. Even if you know no one ever really gets as close as he does.

He's desperate in the way his hands grip your thighs to pull you to the edge of the bed, desperate in the way he licks into you like you’ve been his only meal in weeks.

Your legs are trembling, your moans broken, your fingers locked in his curls, and still—still—he doesn’t stop.

You’re gasping, grinding down against his mouth, fingers fisting in his curls. “Fuck—Frankie—”

He groans into you like the sound alone could undo him. When he pulls away, chin slick, pupils blown wide, he looks wrecked.

“I’ve had you,” he grits out, voice raw as he flips you onto the couch. “So many fuckin' times, baby…”

Your back hits the cushions. He drags his cock along your slit once, twice—just to feel the way you’re already dripping for him.

“…but I swear to God—I jus’ want more.”

He thrusts into you in one long, brutal stroke, and your head snaps back.

He’s not slow tonight. Not gentle.

He’s hungry.

Every thrust is rough, possessive—each one a silent, brutal question: Do you even think about me when you’re with them? Do they make you cum like I do? Do they fuck you like they love you but are too damn scared to say it too?

Every stroke is a mark, a brand, a vow. Like if he buries himself deep enough, you’ll finally understand it’s him. It’s always been him.

“You let him touch you?” he hisses, panting as he fucks you deeper.

You moan, shaking your head. “Didn’t let him. Just danced.”

“That’s worse,” he growls, hand tightening on your thigh as he presses it higher. “Dancing’s fuckin’ intimate.”

You laugh, breathless. “Yeah? And what’s this, sweetheart?”

He stills, cock buried deep, forehead pressed to yours. He’s trembling—like the force of it, the weight of how much he wants you, might crush him.

“I love you,” he whispers, too quiet. Too fast.

You blink.

He pulls back like he hadn’t meant to say it at all.

But you pull him back in, wrap your legs around his waist, and kiss him hard enough to make him believe you heard and didn’t run.

He fucks you again, slower now. More deliberate. Desperate.

You come with his name tangled on your tongue, his bite on your shoulder, his arms holding you so tightly like maybe this time you’ll stay.

────────

His pace is slow, savoring. Every thrust deliberate, deep. Like he’s trying to give you everything he can’t say. His hands on your hips, your back, your throat. Holding you like something precious. His forehead pressed to yours as you moan into his mouth, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Even if you don’t say it, even if you leave again—I’ll still be yours. Always have been, pretty girl."

You don’t answer, but you kiss him open-mouthed, panting against his lips like the heat between your bodies might burn away the words you don’t want to say.

Your legs are wrapped around him, slick with sweat, pulling him deeper every time he thrusts back in. The sheets are a mess, tangled at your ankles. There’s a bruise blooming where his stubble scraped your chest raw. He’ll mouth over it later. He always does.

You whimper his name as you start to come, clutching him like you don’t want to let go. And maybe you don’t. Or maybe that’s just the way you cum—needy, intense, reckless. He can’t tell. Not anymore.

But fuck, you feel good. Warm, tight, real.

He groans and spills into you with a guttural sound, teeth gritted, head buried in the crook of your neck like it’s the only place he’s ever known peace. You pet his hair. Gently. Lazily. Like you’ve done this a thousand times.

And you have

Frankie doesn’t move right away. Just stays buried deep inside you, arms tight around your waist, chest pressed to yours as he catches his breath against the crook of your neck. Your skin is sticky with sweat, flushed and soft, and he breathes you in like you’re oxygen—like anything beyond you would suffocate him.

“So good, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and frayed at the edges. “Did so good f’me. Always feel so fuckin’ amazing.”

Your fingers find the back of his neck, nails scratching lightly at the short curls there. Soft, rhythmic, comforting. The kind of touch that says you’re here, I’m here, for now, we’re still breathing. You press kiss after kiss to his forehead, sweet and wet and reverent.

“Always feel amazing, Frankie,” you whisper between them, like a promise. “Always so good to me.”

It’s always like this.

The slow, spiraling descent after everything has burned through. The high of it, the hunger, the helpless need. This is the crash. And somehow it’s worse than the heat of your fucking. Worse because it’s quiet. Intimate. Real. Frankie would be a goddamn liar if he said this wasn’t his favorite part.

You’re warm and limp and pliant beneath him, so soft in his arms he swears you were made to be held like this. In these moments—when your thighs are still trembling and your voice is syrup-sweet in his ear—you feel the most like his. And he lives for it. No matter how fleeting.

You break him down with that honey-dripped voice, only to build him back up again, praise by praise, kiss by kiss. He flourishes in your attention—thrives on it like it’s a drug in his system. Like a dog at its master’s feet, licking at the palms that both feed and strike him.

Even when you leave him aching.

Even when your kisses don’t mean permanence.

He stays. Every time.

Waiting for your love like it might be real if he’s just good enough.

You’ve been here two nights. Three, maybe, depending on how you count the first one where you showed up after midnight, drunk and pretty and pretending this was just a convenient arrangement. Frankie knows the pattern.

Knows you’ll leave soon.

Disappear without a word, just a scribbled note or a half-finished cup of coffee left on the counter.

He braces for it.

But you don’t say much that morning. Just shower. Borrow one of his shirts. Pad barefoot into the kitchen to pour yourself coffee without asking.

Frankie watches you from the doorway.

He wants to say something, anything. Wants to ask what it would take to make you stay. Wants to give you more than sex and silence. Wants to be the one who finally gets chosen.

But your eyes flick up and catch him watching.

And all you say is, a devious and sex-satiated smirk playing on your lips, “Want me to make you breakfast, Morales?”

Frankie nods. Swallows the words again.

And hopes. Foolishly, quietly. That maybe this time, you’ll make it to day four.

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