Content: Explicit NSFW Smut, pre-established relationship, restraints, light fem-dom, angsty-ish (but for me it’s vanilla grade), insomnia, sex toys of all kinds, anxiety, edging, delayed orgasm, anal play, sub-Frankie (kind of?).
A/N: A forgotten WIP that according to Google docs I wrote in October 2021 and never posted. Since I’m on hiatus at the moment I thought there was no greater time than now to post since I have nothing new to offer you on my plate.
Word Count: 4.6K
Frankie is a man of contradictions.
He’s the softest man you know. From the soft way you catch him looking at you under the warm cupboard lights of your kitchen when he’s doing the dishes to the soft curve of his belly hidden underneath worn out flannels and cotton shirts.
Soft in the way he will murmur ‘come on baby’ to your shitty old Volvo as if it’s a precious lover when it refuses to start in the morning.
But for the softness in his every action with you, there is an equal and opposite force within that he tries to hide from you. There is a hardness in him more impenetrable than pressurized steel. Tom had once told you early on in your relationship (when the man had had three beers too many) that Frankie is lethal. Frankie is the kind of soldier who will not hesitate to pull a trigger and end the life of another human being if it means keeping those he cares about safe.
After a messy divorce you wanted something to ease the pain of loneliness. That something just happens to be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, even if you had to pay for him.
You had a debt to repay, and it went against your nature to not settle up. Or, you start a running joke with Pope that escalates into meeting the rest of Frankie’s boys.
The Reader’s Guide to Avoiding Redfly (and how to have a good time doing it)
“It’s gonna be awful snug with four of us in the front,” William said, trying his level best to make room on the seat, “Unless one of you gents wants to take the back?”
“I’ll go,” you said, “I’ve always wanted to ride in the back of a pickup.”
“Well, it’s nice to have goals,” Tom smirked, and your smile was practically beatific in response. Fucking superiority-complex lech. “Want some company back there?”
“Sure she does,” Frankie said, passing you both with an armful of coats. “Vamos, chica.”
Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm…
Relationships: Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character
Rating: Explicit from here on in, folks!
Author’s note: I am still finding my way with writing smut - and this is barely smut, but still would love feedback! Redfly is still the worst (even though he’s in this chapter less ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) and I am still obsessed with Frankie Morales. This fic is not canon-compliant, in as much as I see it taking place years before the events of the movie.
Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, extensive use of the C-word (the naughty one), smut, fingering, very mild praise kink
“What was that?” Dina’s face was nothing short of gleeful. The three of you were crammed into a toilet cubicle, taking turns while you talked. Sandy looked up at you from the toilet, eyes likewise round with expectation.
“What was what?” you replied, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The pair snorted in tandem, Sandy reaching for the toilet paper.
“And you!” Dina turned, and gripped Sandy’s cheek like a child’s, “You beautiful bitch, you wish you were sitting on Santiago’s lap!”
Your friend grinned, shaking Dina off good-naturedly and standing to fix her dress. She shrugged. “The night’s young, Dee.”
Dina laughed, shrugging out of her faux-fur coat and pulling her pants down to sit. “This is cute as fuck, we’ll be going on triple dates in no time.”
——————————————————-
Before you knew it you were standing outside in the blistering fucking cold again, waiting for Benny and William to emerge.
The three guys were standing together chatting when you came out, laughing it up over what you assumed was stories from the glory days. Sandy and you circled Dina, grooming her like a pair of handmaidens, making sure her hair looked good and her outfit popped just so.
The crowd was petering out, the flood of people from the arena slowly reducing down to a trickle, when a booming voice sounded from within:
“Now was that a fight, or was that a fucking fight?”
Benny emerged into the fluorescent orange light of the parking lot, and made straight for the squealing Dina, who locked her arms around his neck. His hands went to her thighs, hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around her waist. Turning, he sandwiched her against the wall, and busied himself with kissing her senseless. Judging by some of the moans she was letting out, they were also squeezing in about 50% of their foreplay for later.
You didn’t quite know where to look. You settled on kicking a piece of gravel on the ground, before:
“Yeah.”
The voice was right in your ear, and you jumped. Frankie stepped up beside you, shoulder knocking against yours, and repeated: “Yeah.”
You looked him up and down, in what you hoped was a casual manner, at the arms crossed over his chest, at the muscle standing out on his forearms.
“Yeah what?”
“If you need me to do that too, I’d be OK with that.” he rubbed a hand under his chin, and shrugged. “I’m just trying to anticipate your needs.”
You bit your lip, trying to stifle a smile and ignore the way a blush suddenly roared up your neck. “My needs?”
He nodded, eyeing you as if talking about your needs in the parking lot of a shitty arena was the most natural thing in the world. From the look on his face, he was clearly giving it a lot of thought.
An ear-splitting whistle pierced the air and everyone turned to the source; Santiago, removing his fingers from his mouth. “Benny!” he shouted. ”Put the lady down. Come on, we gotta buy you some drinks for that fight.“
Benny and William were the only ones legal to drive. Benny led the way to his car still carrying Dina, with Santiago and Sandy in tow, while William slid behind the wheel of a battered old pickup that it turned out belonged to Frankie.
“It’s gonna be awful snug with four of us in the front,” William said, trying his level best to make room on the seat, “Unless one of you gents wants to take the back?”
“I’ll go,” you said, “I’ve always wanted to ride in the back of a pickup.”
“Well, it’s nice to have goals,” Tom smirked, and your smile was practically beatific in response. Fucking superiority-complex lech. “Want some company back there?”
“Sure she does,” Frankie said, passing you both with an armful of coats. “Vamos, chica.”
You couldn’t resist dropping Tom a wink. His answering smile was queasy, but he swung himself into the front seat without a word. By your count he was four drinks under, so it was only a matter of time.
Frankie swung easily up into the truck bed, before reaching a hand down to you, and you scrambled up to join him.
Any loose debris was kicked roughly away, before Frankie laid the first coat down. He gestured magnanimously, and you sat on the coat with your back against the cab. With a flourish, he laid the other coat over you before joining you on the floor. It was a huge oilcloth raincoat, lined with fleece for warmth, and offered decent protection from the cold wind. He reached up and banged a fist on the window above you, and the pickup rattled to life before pulling out.
“Won’t you be cold?” you asked. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits, and shook his head.
“I’ll survive,” he said. “It’s only ten minutes.”
You pfft!-ed at him, before lifting the coat. With minimal eye-rolling, he shifted sideways, and allowed you to drape part of the coat across him. You wriggled closer, keen to leech every bit of warmth you could from him. In an attempt to conserve heat, your hands were tucked against your waist, under your jacket.
Not a moment too soon, you felt his hand settle on your leg, and you spread your knees ever so slightly to accommodate. His touch was like a flame that licked gently to your core, making you crave him everywhere. Your heart went from idle to racing on a dime.
Fuck. You were far too sober to do what you were about to do, but you needed to do something about this situation. If nothing else, it would be a story to tell.
“Frankie,” you said, struggling to keep your voice level. “Can the guys see us?”
He threw a glance back over his shoulder. The window to the cab was a good half a foot above your heads. “No,” he said, a note of reluctance in his voice, and your hand clamped down on his before he could remove it. In the alternating light of passing streetlamps, it was hard to gauge his reaction.
You nodded, and ran your fingers gently over his hand. “Good.”
You turned to look up at him. Your heart rate accelerated, to the point that it was practically vibrating. Now or never.
“You mentioned my needs?”
In the alternating light you caught glimpses of his face, eyes burning into yours. His grip twitched, tightening convulsively on your thigh, and you took a breath at the want that surged through you. You dropped your gaze, looking down at the coat that covered the both of you.
“I think,” you cleared your throat, ignoring the heat that had started to creep up your jaw, “I need you to do a little more than just touch my leg.”
You released his hand, and waited. His grip didn’t alter, didn’t increase or decrease, and you thought the warmth and weight of his hand on your leg would drive you insane if he didn’t do someth-
“Only a little more?” He asked, voice low, and after being on a knife edge for an hour the pitch of his voice shot straight to your cunt. His hand inched down, and stopped at the hem of your skirt.
You hooked your fingers under the material, pulled it up ever so slightly, and spread your legs wider under the coat. The way your knees were spread increased the gap where the freezing wind could get in, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that there was a hand on your thigh, branding you, and you ached for it to move.
“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, and swivelled your face up to his. The light had improved - you were now rolling down a main road that was well-lit - and it was enough to see the hunger in his face, the tight lines of his jaw.
Frankie’s mouth worked, and he looked away. Looking out at the road receding behind you. After the longest five seconds of your life, his hand began to move again, alternating between delicate strokes up the inside of your thigh and firm squeezing as his warm hand spanned the width of your leg.
It was very hard to breathe. As in the arena, your focus narrowed to a pinpoint, to where his skin met yours. Your cunt was throbbing almost painfully, and you knew if his fingers were to brush against your panties they would come away soaked. You were transfixed by his profile, by the curve of his nose and the errant locks of hair that curled from under his cap. He swallowed, throat working, and your jaw ached with the desire to kiss him there.
"You should’ve said earlier,” Frankie said, still not looking at you, speaking out to the road behind, “I’d have had my hand up your skirt back at the arena.”
His tone was light, almost indifferent, and your head spun. His hand had started to edge down towards where your thighs met, but the hem of your skirt restricted him again. You began to shift, ready to hike your skirt up further, but he was faster than you.
Briskly, matter-of-factly, he pulled your skirt up all the way towards your hips, before replacing his hand on your thigh and beginning his slow crawl again. If the coat blew away, you would be sitting in the bed of his pickup with your legs fully bare and your panties exposed to the world. He still didn’t look at you, and the casual way he spoke was starting to rub against your senses almost as much as the caresses were. You felt like a toy he was playing with.
And you loved it.
“I might have started off like this,” he said, and his fingers suddenly drew in a swift, straight line towards your cunt. You sucked in a breath, unable to help the way your hips canted up to meet his hand, only to whimper just a little as he stopped short of touching you where you needed him to, where the ache was worst. He paused, and you were about to grab his hand and put it where you wanted it, when he shook his head.
“Actually, this is wrong,” he said, and withdrew his hand completely. Your stomach had time to plummet and your mouth opened to complain, just as he turned and gripped your thigh in his other hand. “It was more like this.”
His face was now inches away, eyes fixed on your lips as you inhaled a shaky breath. After the casual way he’d been speaking to you, almost ignoring you, this was like being pinned under a spotlight. His eyes ran up and down your face, and the naked desire in his eyes sent an ache straight to your cunt. This angle really was so much better. Under the coat, his elbow rested slightly on your knee, the weight spreading your legs wide.
“Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself back there?” he asked, and dragged his fingers further up your thigh, “Do you know how sexy you looked sitting on my lap?”
Your head spun at the sensation, realising that he was nearly there, nearly touching you right where you wanted -
“Frankie, please,” you breathed, head falling back against the cab. “I need-”
“I know what you need,” he said, and finally, finally, stroked his fingers against your cunt.
His touch was lighter than a feather, and the pressure was completely disproportionate to the moan you let out. Frankie gaped and leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he felt the wetness soaking your panties.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, mouth ghosting over yours, almost half a kiss, “Did I do that to you?”
Under the coat, unseen, he changed position and your head - thunked! - back against the cab as the heel of his hand pressed up against the curve of your cunt, grinding perfectly against your clit. Pleasure skittered all the way down to your toes.
A sliding sound above you - the cab window opening - and you heard William’s voice:
“Everything OK back there?”
“Yeah man,” Frankie called, eyes not leaving yours. As the pressure increased against your clit, his fingers started to stroke over the very obvious wet patch in your panties, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We’re good.”
Slowly, teasingly, his fingers hooked your panties to the side, and circled the wetness that had gathered there. You felt weak. Drained. Completely at his mercy, unable to process anything above a simple thought - unable to process anything other than your internal monologue of please please please please please. He maintained eye contact, watching every expression on your face with a fascination that bordered on awe. You could see it in his eyes - those eyes! your mind sang, about to implode with bliss - that he was feeling it too. That sense of untethering.
You thought you’d known desperation, but it was nothing to how you felt now. The pressure against your clit was sublime, but all you could think of was the way his big, thick fingers would feel as they stretched-
“Do you need me to stop?”
Fuck off, William. “Don’t stop!” you yelled, voice kicking up a pitch on ‘stop’ as Frankie slid a finger inside you. Your cunt tightened at the sensation, and he grunted. He leaned close against you, nose pressing against yours, close enough that his breath became your breath.
The window closed above you, but William and Tom may as well have been on Mars. Your whole world right now was you, Frankie, and the way his finger - his fingers were pushing up inside you, moving at a measured, steady pace that alternated with the pressure on your clit until you were writhing beneath him.
“God, you look so fucking hot right now,” he breathed. “What do you want, sweetheart? You want more?”
With what felt like all your strength, you pushed your hips up to meet his hand, forcing Frankie’s fingers deeper inside you. “Yeah… yeah,” you panted. “Please, Frankie. More.”
“More? Good girl.” Your cunt clenched around him at the praise, and he inserted a third finger, pressing against your front wall from the inside as his hand ground against your clit.
“Yeah, like that,” you said, and squeezed your eyes shut at the wave of pleasure that washed over you. “Fuck, just like that.”
“So fucking hot,” he muttered. “Are you going to come for me? Are you going to come on my hand?”
You nodded, fully blissed out. Your hips started to tilt up and down in time to his movements, deepening the angle of his strokes, and you flicked your tongue out to wet your lips. Your abdomen went tight, and you shuddered as your cunt contracted around his fingers.
“I’m close, I’m so fucking close-”
“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” He shifted to the right slightly, his fingers surging deeper, and you jerked upwards. The pressure against your clit increased, and you saw stars.
“Fuck, I’m -” you choked out, and opened your mouth as your orgasm ripped through you. Before you made a single sound, Frankie’s other hand clamped down over your mouth, keeping you silent as you writhed beneath him. You moaned into his palm, cunt pulsing around his fingers, and your eyes rolled back in your head as you ascended to a higher level of consciousness. All you knew was pleasure, and Frankie’s hands on you.
Gradually, you came back to reality, sliding down from your peak. It was hard to even open your eyes. Frankie was breathing hard, and he took his hand from your mouth. You felt completely boneless, unable to even whimper when he removed his fingers too, leaving you empty. His fingers were covered in your juices and you watched, dazed, as he lifted his hand to his lips and started to lick them clean. He worked methodically, getting every last drop from one finger before moving on to the next. His eyes half-closed in satisfaction, and your heartbeat stuttered.
Without even thinking, you reached up and grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulling his mouth down to yours. His lips were soft, and he moaned as your tongue flicked out to taste his. There was a tangy, salty taste there that you knew was your own, and you pulled him even closer. You felt a drop of moisture bead against your lip, and you broke away to chase it, lapping at his moustache and sucking gently at his lips before dipping back into the kiss. Your combined taste was heavenly. He moaned again, breathing “Fuck,” against your lips as his hand came up to the side of your neck, holding you like a lifeline.
After a minute that felt like a second, Frankie broke off, breathing heavily. He ripped his cap off, ran a hand through his hair, and laid his forehead against yours. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, and pulled back.
“Sorry,” he said. “We’re nearly at the bar. I can’t go in like this.”
The -?
Fuck.
Frankie moved out from under the coat and turned his face toward the sky. His hair was sticking up in every direction after being trapped under the cap, making him look exactly how you felt. Taking a deep breath, he started patting out a little rhythm on his thighs. A sizable bulge at his zipper told you exactly what he meant when he said ‘like this’.
The cold was a good idea. You pulled your skirt down enough for decency before throwing the coat off yourself, and lifted up on your haunches to readjust properly. The wind caressed your warm cheeks, cooling you down.
You peeked through the cab window. William and Tom were deep in conversation, oblivious to what had just happened right behind them. You hunkered down just a little, awkwardly, and reached under your skirt to shimmy your panties down. With some maneuvering and staggering, you managed to peel them off completely, sighing as the cool breeze brushed against your cunt.
Frankie glanced over at you, then groaned and covered his eyes.
“What?” you asked. “Do you know how uncomfortable it is to walk around with wet panties?”
“Please stop,” He held his arm out in supplication, and your face reddened at the pleading look he gave you.
At your expression, Frankie groaned again. Quickly, roughly, he leaned over and grabbed you, pulling you down so you were kneeling beside him. With one hand, he took your arm by the wrist, and pressed your palm against his zipper. His jeans were still bulging, and you realised the cold hadn’t helped one bit.
“Because I am hard as a fucking rock right now,” he hissed, and the wild look on his face coupled with the firmness under your hand made your mouth go dry. “I wanna throw you to the floor of this fucking truck and fuck you until you can’t walk. But, we have to go to the bar. And I have to sit there and look at you - knowing you’re commando underneath - and keep it together.”
You were technically still coming down from your orgasm, but it didn’t stop desire from hitting you like a punch in the stomach. His fingers had felt amazing, but judging by what you could feel of him through the rough denim they were clearly more of an appetiser. The pickup was starting to slow. Raising back onto your haunches again, you looked through the cab window to see the bar coming up ahead. You squeezed him gently, absentmindedly, and he let out a strangled moan. You ignored the way his moan made your cunt throb, ignored the sudden mental image of being held down while he buried his cock inside you -
“OK then, we’re going to help each other,” you said. You lowered yourself back to sitting beside him.
“You’re going to help me out by looking after my panties,” you said, holding them up. He glared at them for a second, before grabbing them and stuffing them into his pocket. He picked his cap back up
“And how are you going to help me?” he asked, fitting it back on his head. His voice was gruff, almost annoyed, but he was watching you like you were prey.
“Well,” you smiled. “I won’t be wearing underwear for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”
Frankie looked down at you for a long minute, brown eyes nearly black in the streetlights. His gaze raked up and down your whole body, and the look he gave you made your breath catch. You got the feeling that his self-control was hanging on by the thinnest thread. The pickup turned into the bar parking lot, and he swayed toward you with the turn.
He moved like lightning. Before you could blink, he was leaning over you again, and again, his hand was up your skirt. Even though your faces were only inches away, you could see the question in his eyes and you nodded, heart suddenly racing. His fingers dipped into your cunt, gently, gathering up your come. He barely penetrated you but you shuddered at the gentle sensation of his fingers, feeling yourself get even wetter. He watched your face, studied every expression you made and how you shivered under his touch. He looked as though he’d found something he’d been looking for for a very long time.
As the pickup slowed, Frankie sat back and stuck his fingers in his mouth again. Tasting you again. He looked at you with a strange light in his eyes, as if he were daring you to stop him. Instead, all you could think about was how he would look with that gorgeous mouth nestled between your thighs, how those dark eyes would look staring up at you from that angle. He licked each finger clean, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, and that pang of want ran through you again. As the pickup engine shut off he dropped his hand back to his lap, sighed, and nodded.
“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.
“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”
A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.
Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm…
Relationships:Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character
Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that…
Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.
Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.
“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair’s breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.
“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”
“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”
Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight.
Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.
“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.
“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”
“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”
“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”
“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Dina called.
“To get another drink.”
Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over.
—————–
Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke.
Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.
Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate.
The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.
It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -
“Dee!”
Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.
“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”
“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”
Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right.
His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you.
What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?
“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.
“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe?
You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy.
Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.
“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.
“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”
A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.
“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.
“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.
The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.
The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”
Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:
“And I am so fucking yours.”
So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.
“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”
Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.
You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”
The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.
Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.
“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”
—————————————-
The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behindyou.
As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-
It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.
“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “… a creep.” you finished lamely.
When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.
He knew. He damn well knew.
Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.
————————————
Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.
The single empty chair.
Fucks sake.
Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass.
You’re fucking kidding me.
You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.
You’refucking kidding me.
Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them.
He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.
Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.
Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.
But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.
Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.
Forward and back. Forward and back.
This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.
Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.
Fuck off, you mouthed.
You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was -
As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.
For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.
Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.
Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.
Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t -
A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently -
Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh.
“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit.
“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.
The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.
“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”
You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.
A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup.
“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”
“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”
Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?
Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.
————————————
“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.”
“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”
“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”
His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down.
“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”
A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.
“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer.
“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”
“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”
“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”
A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly.
“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”
The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.”
Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer.
“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”
He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.
“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”
————————————
As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.
When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.
It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably.
A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn’t go down too well anyway.
A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.
Benny was here.
————————————
Ringside seats were… certainly something.
The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch.
Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.
The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.
It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging.
You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.
Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him.
As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost.
“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.
“You see that?”
Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape.
“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.
“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”
He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and -
Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -
“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.
Pairing:TF Boys x F!Reader Wordcount:15.4K Warnings: trauma. self-hatred. alcohol/drug abuse (this is srs this chapter). reverse harem. fluids. insecurities. angst. smut. injuries from choking. mentions of hair. rough sex. barf. Summary:She spirals. Things get complicated. A/N:wow this chapter took A MONTH. a struggle indeed because it dealt with some serious triggering things that i wanted to get right. you may find it hard to like our girl here, but she’s been through a lot. My utter thanks to@frannyzooey who sent me constant encouragement and help me with transitions and clearing up so many confusing parts. my gal @krissology who sends the most horny thots and ideas for the smut and dialogue. she literally worked her ass off writing the most romantically delicious book so order it or perish. i hope you all like because your comments make my life
The thing about living with men running a criminal enterprise was that they could get their hands on anything: alcohol, speed, benzos, automatic weapons, Bengal tigers, vintage Quaaludes (which she doubted still worked). It wasn’t terribly surprising that their “doctor” would also give her whatever she asked for.
Of course, of course, Ms. Faire. Sounds great. I’ll have it delivered.
It had started with the birth control. Pope had readily agreed when she had asked him about needing a script. No further comment. He’d ducked his head, his cheeks glinting pink as he wordlessly handed her a business card.
“Just call him,” he muttered. “He’ll give you anything you want.”
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 500
Warnings:M, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, allusions to sexual acts, Frankie being a sweetie is its own warning, and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 4900
Warnings: E, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (F receiving), female masturbation, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a touch of Feral Frankie, one ass slap, fingers in mouths, cum eating, some angst and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.
A Triple Frontier Soulmate AU! Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female reader
In a world where every soul has a perfect mate, Frankie Morales has seen no evidence that his even exists. Soulmates gain each other’s permanent body markings - scar and tattoos - and while all of Frankie’s ink and battle wounds have transferred over to his soulmate’s skin, he’s never found a single mark on his body that he didn’t make himself. Until now.
I love a good soulmate au story and this is certainly 1 of them! just had another read, it is so good and i love the reader, she is such a good character, which is fabulous as we know all the boys will be great as usual….
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
My wife hasn’t looked at me like that in years.
“Sorry? I didn’t quite catch your name.” He instantly likes her voice and tries to imagine what she’d sound like in bed and for the first time in god knows how long he isn’t ashamed of himself.
“It’s Francisco - you can call me Frankie.” He shakes her hand, holds onto it probably longer than he should and he knows his dimple is staring her in the face with the way he’s smiling. “How do you know James?” He gives her a once over, almost subtly and he’s happy to see her fluster a tiny bit.
“Oh um - ha I actually don’t - I came with a friend. Maureen - do you know her?” She fiddles with her dress, smoothing it down with her plump lower lip between her teeth. It’s endearing and he wants nothing more than to pull her close - to nuzzle at the hollow of her throat but she looks at his hand when he takes a sip of his beer and the spell is broken. She sees it, he knows she does and there’s nothing he can say.
Fuck.
“Oh, I’m sorry - I didn’t realize.” She frowns a little staring at his wedding ring, more flustered than before but now it’s out of embarrassment and he feels cruel, like he’d led her on in some way.
“Yeah, that’s - sorry that’s-” He doesn’t know what to say to this lovely thing in front of him.
Technically, yes I’m married but my wife has been cheating on me for years, I just got the proof I needed a couple of days ago and I’m going to divorce her ass. Wanna fuck?
“There you are, have you seen my purse?” His wife came in right on cue and then he was alone with her, a swirl of a skirt left in the pretty woman’s wake - he sighed loudly, not that his wife commented on it - or even noticed for that matter. “There it is - oh look - your buddies are here! Why don’t you catch up with them?” She didn’t look at him as she said it - too busy fixing her lipstick and he knew then that her side piece was here.
He felt nothing.
“Sure honey.” He spoke the words to her back as she walked away from him - he couldn’t even remember when he stopped watching her go.
-
The heat was crawling up your body, warming the apples of your cheeks with embarrassment and your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. You moved through the crowd of people you didn’t know, winding through the little groups of them while scanning for Maureen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the red shirt she’d been wearing - relief washing over you when you finally saw her.
“Hey- where’d you get to?” She smiled big, looking for the drinks you were supposed to grab. “No drinks?”
“Sorry- There were a bunch of people waiting so I came back.” You did your best to smile through the lie. “I’ll try again in a few.”
If he’s not still standing there.
Your stomach dropped at the thought of running into him again, a groan threatening to claw its way out of your throat. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to be exactlyyour type? Tall and broad, with that cute dimple and those soft waves- marriedwaves.
Why did you flirt back?
This question annoyed you a bit, it burned brightly in the back of your mind while you tried - genuinely tried to listen to Maureen chatting about - well whatever the hell she was chatting about.
You saw his wife walk past the two of you then, a very pretty woman with gorgeously thick hair and Ruby red lips lost in conversation with a burly blond man, if he’d told her that you’d flirted then it would only make sense that she’d glance at you but mercifully she didn’t. Thank christ.
Maureen laughed and pulled you away from your thoughts, introducing you to a few of her friends from college and you busied yourself trying to remember their names, muddling through polite conversation while also counting the hours until she’d be ready to go. It wasn’t so bad though- they weren’t so bad. Her friends, while maybe a bit pretentious, were all in all nice enough and it wasn’t hard to find common interests with a few while she made her rounds until your bladder pulled you towards the bathroom.
The door to the powder room on the bottom floor was locked, in use. Goddamn it-
“There’s a bathroom just up the stairs and to the left-” One of the hosts saw you standing there and came to the rescue “-please feel free.” With a polite thank you, you climbed up further and further until the door was opening before you. The scene inside froze you in your tracks, it was the blond burly man and Francisco’s wife in the middle of a hook-up.
Your mouth gaped open for half a second before you shut the door - unsure if they’d heard you, unsure if they even cared.
Couldn’t even be bothered to lock the door???
You ran down the stairs as quickly as you could, almost crashing into the person just coming out of the powder room and after a nervous shuffle from both of you, you were safely tucked away in the enclosed space. After relieving yourself, and splashing your face with cool water came the time to rejoin the fray - maybe if you could make eye contact with Maureen, she would see the discomfort on your face but that was a dead end - she was nowhere to be found.
I need a cigarette.
-
He was standing alone on the porch of the house, taking in the cool night air and it seemed as though the Gods or the fates or whoever was responsible for the day was thoroughly enjoying your discomfort.
“Oh - hi.” He smiled his dimpled smile and it was almost too much - you didn’t know this man, you had no idea what was happening in their marriage but what you did know for sure was how fucking disrespectful it was of this woman to fuck another man while her husband was here. “You okay?” His head tilted, concerned, beautiful.
“Yeah. Sorry um - you wouldn’t happen to have a smoke would you?” Fingers crossed he’d say yes.
“No sorry - I quit a long time ago.”
Fuck me sideways, seriously.
“No worries.” You stood there, gawping at him as he leaned his hip against one side of the railings. His smile faded and a neutral realization took its place.
“Was it with a blond man?” His words were stones in your stomach, boulders being dropped from a great height.
“What?” You hoped against hope that he wouldn’t make you do this.
I shouldn’t have fucking come out here.
“It’s okay - it wouldn’t be the first time. It’s funny - I didn’t want to divorce her until I had the proof and I got it a couple of days ago.” He sighed big but it didn’t seem sad or heartbroken. “I’m not naive, it’s nothing new.”
“I’m sorry - I don’t know what to say. Are you going to confront them?” The idea of him storming upstairs and pulling them out of the bathroom for everyone to see made your skin crawl with anxiety.
“Oh no, nothing so dramatic as that, I don’t care to - haven’t cared in a long time.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just please don’t look at me like that.” You frowned.
“Like what?” It was your head that tilted now.
“Like you pity me - I’m okay, in a couple of days I’ll serve her with the papers and it’ll be done. For now I’d much rather you looked at me the way you did before you knew I was married.” He straightened as he spoke - taking a few slow steps towards you.
“And how did I look at you before?” He was so tall, so broad and handsome.
“You looked at me, like you wanted me.” He watched your mouth, licking his bottom lip as he spoke and suddenly it was too hot - your skin was too warm and your tongue followed the example set by him and swiping along your bottom lip.
-
His grip is almost bruising, but his hands are so much softer than you would have thought and after a harder thrust one of them is sliding under your bra to hold the weight of your breast.
“You feel so fucking good.” His voice is hoarse, the words clipped as he groans them into your ear. The plush swell of your ass is pressed up tight against his groin, his cock punching up into you in the back of his truck.
I am letting a married man fuck me in the back of his truck, in a suburban neighbourhood.
The thought bleeds out of your brain with every snap of his hips, with every swirl of his fingers on your swollen clit. Your slick is dripping out around him, soaking the panties he roughly pulled down to fill your aching cunt. His cock sliding in so easily with how aroused you are and it takes everything not to scream out from how good it feels.
“Feel how fucking hard you made me baby.” He picks up speed, pushing the air out of your lungs with the force of it - your eyes roll back - mouth a wordless ‘O’ as he steals the thoughts out of your head with the slip of his cock and the swirl of his fingers. “Talk to me baby- tell me it feels good.” He pulls you up, his hand moving up to cradle your jaw and bring you towards him in a misaligned kiss. All tongues and pants as he doubles down on his efforts to pull you apart.
“It’s good - god it’s so fucking good.” Your words are almost slurred and he lets out a breathless laugh before he bites at your ear.
You’re racing towards your orgasm, the tingle of it spreading from your center out through your limbs and when he pinches your clit between his two wet fingers you fall off the cliff. Euphoria burns through your veins, cunt clenching around him hard enough to make him groan from deep in his throat.
“Where do you want it?” He grits it out through mashed teeth and you pull away, bending forward as best you can.
“On my ass.” You pull your dress up past your hips, displaying yourself for him shamelessly.
“Fuck-”He sounds pained and you can’t help but look back as best you can, the pain in your neck is worth the vision of him, his eyes down watching as he pumps his cock against your ass. One of his hands gripping you and with a shuddering moan he paints you in himself. “Jesus baby- fuck that’s pretty.” He rubs the sensitive tip through the mess on your skin before finally finding a tissue and wiping most of it away.
The cab is steamy when you exit, your hair a mess, his shirt untucked but both of you giddy with post orgasmic bliss - wordlessly parting to join the party but not before saving your number in his phone.
After the blood has cooled and it’s time to go, he catches your eye at the door with a wink and a promise and as you walk out with Maureen you hope he’ll call soon.
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given by the new and improved @writer-wednesday!
Frankie never liked hostage situations. There were too many risks, too many factors to work around, too much weighing on his shoulders.
Unfortunately, he could never quite get around going on said hostage missions.
“Ten meters,” Pope’s voice whispered in his ear. “Cabin’s dead ahead.”
Frankie nodded, mostly to himself. The cabin was in his sight, nestled in between a couple of trees. The old thing was so dilapidated Frankie was almost certain Pope was lying. No one could possibly be in there.
“Five meters, closing.” This time, it was Redfly speaking to him, his voice barely a whisper. Frankie silently moved closer. He’d been given the easiest and worst job. Get the hostage out. Simple enough, but he would be exposed trying to carry another human being. He had to trust his partners.
“On my signal.”
Frankie took a breath. He was practically on top of his entry point, a small window that had been smashed in. He could see four men, each one armed, and one limp figure on the floor. He had his target.
“Now.”
Gunshots rang out, quick and sharp, as Frankie raced into the building, shoving one man away with his shoulder, directly into Ironhead’s line of sight. The man went crumbling to the ground, red blooming across his chest as Frankie unceremoniously turned the hostage over and instantly gagged. “Call medevac!” He yelled into his comm. “Now!”
No one heard him as the fight continued. He was as gentle as possible as he scooped the hostage up, careful not to disturb them, although he was almost certain they were dead already. They were so thin he could count their every rib, their cheeks so hollowed they may as well have been a skeleton. They were pale as death, a shining pallor to their skin that worried Frankie. How long had they been here?
———
You had no idea how long you’d been asleep. There were arms around you and gunshots echoing in your ears. What kind of hellish treatment were the faceless men putting you through now? Light barely passed through your eyelids. Was it nighttime? Were you deep in the forest? You cracked open one eye, determined to figure out what was going on before your failing body forced you under. There was a man above you, presumably the one holding you, and you could just barely tell he was wearing military gear.
You tried to struggle against the man’s tight hold, but found no strength in your limbs to writhe. Instead, you went dizzy, limply whining behind your split lips and dry throat.
A weight covered you, and you realized it was soft far too slowly. A blanket? A coat? Either way, it was cover, and you cherished it after weeks of nakedness and cold.
“-onna be okay!” A voice said, flickering past the gunshots and fuzziness. “You’re gonna be-“
You didn’t care if this was a lie; an elaborate scheme to lull you into comfort or a hallucination brought upon by starvation. It was nice. The man holding you had a face, as blurry as it was, and you put all your strength into lifting your hand and touching his face. He stopped, looking down at you, and you caught the barest glimpse of brown eyes and the faintest touch of facial hair before it all became too much and you collapsed once more.
———
Frankie had never felt worse about a mission. He’d gotten out, barely, and just as he was convinced the hostage he was holding was dead, their eyes had opened, distant and fogged, but they’d touched his face, just a faint brush, but it was enough to knot his insides with horror. They were alive, unless they’d just died in his arms. Frankie didn’t know which would be worse.
“I’m at the rendezvous,” he said into his comm, finally reaching the small clearing they’d decided to make camp at. He sat against a tree, nestling the hostage against his chest, their back to him. “Extraction was successful.”
“Good,” Tom said. “We’ll meet you there.”
True to his word, the four of them came out of the woods after a few minutes, each one ragged and exhausted.
“That’s the hostage?” Benny asked, kneeling beside Frankie. “That looks like a corpse.”
“They’re alive, best I can tell,” Frankie reassured. “We need to get liquids into them asap. Maybe some broth if they wake up. No solids yet. We should keep them warm and still until medevac gets here. Did you get an ETA on the chopper?” Frankie asked, pushing the hostage’s hair out of their face so he could wipe sweat off their brow with his sleeve.
“Thirty six hours,” Tom said, his voice tense. “Pope, start a fire. Benny, Ironhead, set up for dinner. Fish?”
Frankie nodded, cradling them closer. “I’ve got it.”
———
Your eyes blinked open, dazed and confused. The man holding you, whose name you still didn’t know, focused on your face, his blurry features sharpening as you woke. Words filtered around you like smoke, faint and blurry, and you realized you could see light. Fire. It was warm, cradling your body and heating you to your very bones. The man at your back was rummaging through a bag, producing stark white bandages and a tube of what was hopefully disinfectant.
“You’re up,” he said softly, his voice sharp against the dull background. “Hey.”
Unable to speak, you simply nodded.
“I’m Frankie,” he said. “Can I clean up your injuries?”
You nodded again.
Frankie copied the movement, gently lifting one of your arms and inspecting the bruised and busted skin. “How long were you held hostage?” He asked softly.
“Dunno,” you rasped out.
“What’s the last date you can remember?”
You thought hard about that. The last time you’d seen a date anywhere was a newspaper months ago. The men who’d taken you had forced you to hold it while they took your picture. “May?”
Frankie hissed, maneuvering your body so you were on your back, your right shoulder pressed to his chest. “That’s,” he said slowly, disinfecting a scrape on your forearm. “That’s a long time.” He began to wrap your arm in a bandage, his brows knitting together as he focused. “It’s September now. September 8th.”
That didn’t shock you as much as it probably should have. Instead, you tried to calculate how long you’d been away from your family. Your friends. But your brain wasn’t exactly cooperating. It still felt like it was packed with cotton, like all the important pieces were missing.
“Hey,” Frankie said softly. “Don’t focus too hard on anything. You’re still weak. Here.” He pressed a cloth to your lips, a wet cloth, and you instantly began to suck on it. It was a humiliating and ridiculous way to drink water, but you understood. You had to go slow. You couldn’t overload your system with too much water all at once. That wouldn’t do any help.
You drank until you felt like puking. But finally, finally, your mouth didn’t feel like a desert. Your throat wasn’t so dry you couldn’t breath, your lips weren’t so chapped they felt like they would peel right off. You felt clearer, more with it as Frankie put the cloth away and wrapped you tightly in whatever soft thing was protecting you. You wiggled your toes, realizing you had thermal socks on. “Warm.”
“Yeah,” Frankie murmured. “You’ve got a weatherproof jacket and one of our wool blankets. Should keep you warm.”
Smiling ever so barely and feeling your lips crack and split, you felt yourself fading out again, but this time, you didn’t feel weightless and loose. You were secure, oddly safe in Frankie’s arms.
———
“We have a situation,” Tom said softly, sitting beside Frankie and watching him continue to wipe the hostage’s skin off. They’d just fallen asleep again, this time wrapped in Frankie’s thermals and actually halfway hydrated. “The chopper won’t touch here.”
“What?”
Tom sighed. “We have to move,” he said. “There’s a field a half day’s walk from here. They’re gonna meet us there.”
Frankie glanced at the sleeping form in his arms. “We can’t move them,” he insisted.
“We have to try.” That was all Tom said before he stood and walked away. “We move out at sunrise.”
“It’ll be okay,” Santiago said, sitting at Frankie’s side. “We’ll mock up a stretcher or something. Take plenty of breaks. It’ll be alright.”
“Plus,” Benny said from across the fire. “We have all night.” Truthfully, they did. It was a balmy night, meaning rain was likely imminent, but for now it was warm. Frankie nodded. Tomorrow, at sunrise, it would be hell, and he’d worry. He always did. He always got too attached to the hostages they rescued.
The hostage stayed asleep for a while, and Frankie, ever the worrier, placed his bare hand against their chest, just below their collarbones, so he could track their heartbeat throughout the night. He wasn’t going to fall asleep. He wasn’t. He couldn’t.
———
You woke up in the night a few times. Mostly, you were blurry, not entirely coherent, but awake nonetheless. You always took a breath and drifted away again, but there were a few times you woke and woke for good.
Now was one such time. Frankie was dozing, his gentle sleeping features so ethereal in the firelight. He was attractive, probably. You were still having trouble seeing, but he seemed attractive. His personality was absolutely thrilling, you had to give him that.
“Good morning,” a man mumbled across the fire, and you jerked, waking Frankie in the process. He wrapped an arm protectively around you, as if on instinct, and you hid into his chest, knowing he’d protect you from whatever it was.
“It’s just Will,” Frankie murmured softly, brushing hair out of your eyes. “He was on watch. He’s with us.”
Will poked his head around the fire. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I scare you?”
“Just a bit,” Frankie promised. “Midnight already?”
“Yep.”
Silence lapsed over the makeshift campground once more. The other three men were sleeping on the dirt, although one of them was waking now. Benny. At least you thought you heard Frankie call him Benny at one point.
You began to shake. Something was settling behind your shoulders, some undeniable anxiety. You didn’t feel safe. You were certain danger was coming. You had to warn Frankie.
He wrapped you tighter in the blanket. “You’re shaking.”
“Something’s coming,” you breathed, feeling blood trickle down your chin. You must’ve re-split your lip. Frankie wiped the blood away with his sleeve, looking out into the woods as he did so.
“You’re scared,” he realized. “Paranoid.” He reached around you, into his bag, rummaging gently, so he didn’t jostle you.
“Here,” Frankie said softly, handing you a raggedy stuffed bunny from his bag. “This is Carrots. She’ll keep you safe.”
You wanted to laugh, all your fears and anxieties melting away. Frankie was a soldier, a man of war, and he was handing you his stuffed rabbit and swearing it would keep you safe. Instead of laughing, you just held Carrots as close as possible, weakly clutching her fur and burying yourself in her ears as you leaned back against Frankie and began to fall asleep.
“Dude,” you heard a voice say, far away and watery, as if someone had plugged your ears with cotton. “You are such a sucker. You gave them Carrots?“
Frankie sighed. You could feel his chest rise against your side. “They need her more than I do,” he said, his voice a gentle whisper as you drifted off to sleep once more.
When you woke again, it was to Frankie, holding a can of soup and a spoon. The sun was still down, but the fire roared on, casting everything in a warm glow. One of the other men was by the fireside, watching the flames crack and pop.
“Here,” Frankie said softly, holding out a spoonful of broth. “Try this.”
He pretty much spoon-fed you minuscule bites of soup, and despite your recent starvation, you barely managed a few mouthfuls of broth before your stomach began to protest. You leaned back, your shoulder hitting something uncomfortable. You whined, shimmying until Frankie got the hint. He reached into his pocket and produced a book, the uncomfortable poking fading suddenly.
“Book?” You asked sleepily.
“Benny has trouble sleeping sometimes,” Frankie said, maneuvering so the book was in front of you. “So I read to him. Here.” He put the book in your hands so you could examine the cover. It was simple, a white cover with blurry text and a picture of a horse on the front.
“What is it?” You asked.
Frankie traced over the words, and you squinted desperately. “It’s The Last Unicorn,” Frankie said. “One of my favorites from when I was little.”
The man by the fire chuckled. “I work with children,” he said softly, and you blinked.
“That’s Tom,” Frankie said, pocketing the book. “He’s in charge. Kind of.”
Tom looked to the sky. “Rain’s coming in,” he said softly. “I’ll pitch your tarp.”
You and Frankie watched as Tom roused the others, warning them of the rain and urging them to take shelter. The men worked diligently, pitching three tents. One was for Tom, Santiago, and the supplies, one was for Will and Benny, and one was for you and Frankie.
“Up we go,” Frankie said softly once your tent was up. You squeaked as Frankie lifted you, a bought of lightheadedness hitting you hard as Frankie moved you. Once he set you back down, you evened out, vision returning. Frankie helped you into a sleeping bag, looking up as rain began to gently patter the tent’s roof. “Just in time,” he said, setting a lantern down and picking up a thermos. “If you’re still hungry, I want you to have some more broth, okay? The container is super easy to open, just pop it off like this. Water’s here too, so drink if you’re thirsty, but I really want you to rest. You won’t heal if you don’t rest.”
Nodding, you snuggled down, clutching Carrots as tight as you dared before your vision winked away.
You woke once more to gentle light, although this time, it was sunlight, cold and stark. Must’ve barely been dawn. The rain was done, and you could smell the wet soil outside your tent.
Sitting up, you wavered for a minute before grabbing the thermos. Soup for breakfast it was.
You were able to eat more than last time, which was a success, and you even managed a few noodles with your spoonfuls of broth. The entire time you ate, you watched Frankie sleep. He seemed calm, and now that your eyes were apparently cooperating once more, you could read his watch. 06:28. Yep. Just before sunrise.
The zipper to the tent began to unzip, and you fought down the sharp fear racing through you as Tom poked his head into the tent. “You’re up,” he said, seeing you seated. “And Fish isn’t.”
Frankie chose that moment to rub his eyes and grumble to himself. Something about coffee.
“We’re moving out in ten minutes,” Tom said. “We’re a good handful of miles from the pick-up point. We’ve got about eight hours of walking to do.”
Groaning louder, Frankie sat up and slowly began to pack his things. You watched, at his insistence, as he worked his things away. When you tried to pass him Carrots, he shook his head.
“You hold her,” he said, which was promptly the end of that conversation.
Eventually, you were sitting outside, the cold blue of a post-rain dawn settling across the camp as things were packed and meals were eaten. You kept having small bites of soup, glad you hadn’t puked yet.
“C’mon,” Frankie said to you once everything was away. “We have to go. The medical chopper will be here a little after noon, and we have to be there to meet it.” He, with the help of a man he introduced as Santiago, got you into his back, a thick sheet of fabric tied around his body to keep you secured to him.
“Heavy?” You asked, putting your chin on his shoulder.
Frankie shook his head. “Not at all,” he promised.
The walk was quiet. You slept for a bit longer, Carrots tucked under one arm. The sun never truly appeared, staying firmly behind a thick veil of rain heavy clouds.
“Is that a road?” Benny asked, jogging ahead. “God I hope it’s a road. This whole hiking shit is killing my ankles.”
It was, in fact, a road. You hummed sleepily as the terrain shifted, Frankie’s uneven footsteps fading into a steady, even gait. It was enough to put anyone to sleep.
And sleep you did. You must’ve slept away six hours of walking, at least. The road remained, never wavering, and Tom seemed eager to keep the small company on it. It didn’t rain again, but the pavement stayed wet, never drying amidst the humidity.
“Field’s just up there,” Tom said finally, jolting you from your sleep. “Chopper’ll be here in half an hour.”
Frankie nodded, easing himself into the pavement’s edge and gently beginning to untie you. You all but fell off his back, tumbling into the soft grass and old leaves.
“Oh god!” Frankie whipped around, grabbing you and causing you to jolt. “Are you okay?”
You nodded. “Soft grass,” you promised.
“Good,” Frankie said. “Good. C’mere.” You crawled into his lap once more, snuggling back to your familiar position. He hummed softly, stroking over your hair and occasionally pulling grass or leaves from your overly disgusting hair. “You need to bathe.”
You snorted gracelessly, trying to laugh and finding it simply stuck at the back of your throat.
“I’m serious,” Frankie said. “The therapy center, which is where I’m sure you’ll stay for a while, has really nice bathtubs, and if you ask, they’ll even add a bath bomb or something. I bet you’re real attractive under all that dirt.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you rasped. “Maybe after a shave.”
Frankie gasped overdramatically, laughing as he ran a hand over his face. “I guess I should,” he agreed. “It’s hard on missions.”
You nodded, closing your eyes. “It’s cold.”
“I know,” Frankie said, wrapping you tighter in the jacket you were wearing. “I know.”
The continued wait for the chopper was spent slowly, with voices filtering around you. You were cold, shivering even as Frankie insisted you drink more water. Your dehydrated state was likely factoring in to just how cold you felt, but you couldn’t force yourself to drink any more.
“Chopper’s here,” Tom’s voice said, far away and blurry. “C’mon.”
Frankie stood, cradling you and carrying you towards the landing chopper. Your eyes opened, blinking slowly. Men, each one faceless and cold, were rushing towards you, hands touching you as you were unceremoniously taken from Frankie’s arms, voices shouting as you began to cry, looking around wildly. “Frankie!”
You couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. Panic forced its way into your veins, causing you to begin screaming. Why were you so scared? These men were here to help, but you were too far gone, too far away, and all you could see was danger. You needed him.
You were definitely sobbing, reaching out and absolutely screeching for Frankie, his name tearing at your throat as you yelled. He was out of your sight, out of your reach.
“Let me through!” Frankie demanded, his voice bursting through your fog. You turned your head, finally seeing him, pushing past Santiago and Will, who were both holding him back, shouting swears in a mix of languages as he raced to you, taking your outstretched hand and holding it tight. “I’m here,” he promised. “Hey, here I am.” He pressed your hand to his cheek as the faceless medics strapped you to a stretcher and began to cut the makeshift bandages away.
You calmed, your body melting as the painkillers began to flow through your veins. Finally, finally. No more pain. No more burning cold or desperate shivers. Only peace and Frankie.
Frankie held your hand the entire time the helicopter took off and the medics worked, his firm grip never fading. Once the medics backed off you, muttering how you needed rest above all else, Frankie moved in. He sat as close as possible, silently passing you Carrots. You must’ve dropped her in your panic. You tucked her under your arm, your limbs heavy and weighted. “Fish?”
“Hm?” Frankie hummed, watching the forest shrink away from the helicopter. “Yes?”
“Still got that book?”
Frankie chuckled, reaching into his pocket and producing his tiny paperback. He opened it, flipping through pages until he found the beginning, and he began reading.
“The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.
“She did not look anything like a horned horse, as unicorns are often pictured, being smaller and cloven-hoofed, and possessing that oldest, wildest grace that horses have never had, that deer have only in a shy, thin imitation and goats in dancing mockery.” Frankie stopped, seeing your eyes closed and your chest gently rising and falling. Sleep had taken you quickly. “That was fast. Should I keep going?” He asked, grinning. You didn’t respond, which was expected. Frankie sighed happily, deciding to at least finish the paragraph before he sat back and tried to catch some rest himself.
“Her neck was long and slender, making her head seem smaller than it was, and the mane that fell almost to the middle of her back was as soft as dandelion fluff and as fine as cirrus. She had pointed ears and thin legs, with feathers of white hair at the ankles; and the long horn above her eyes shone and shivered with its own seashell light even in the deepest midnight. She had killed dragons with it, and healed a king whose poisoned wound would not close, and knocked down ripe chestnuts for bear cubs.”
The book fell shut, Frankie’s half-asleep form crumpling forward, falling securely against yours. He shifted, finding something comfortable for both of you before he fell asleep himself. It had been a long few days, and you both deserved the rest and recovery awaiting you. Frankie had just enough left in him to set the book against the bed before he drifted away fully, cradled by the comfort of being beside you and the security of knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side any time soon.
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given by the new and improved @writer-wednesday! Welcome Back!
“Please?”
You groaned again, leaning over the arm of the couch to stare at Will and Tom upside down. “Fuck no.”
Will looked at Tom with his ever famous ’Told you so’ face, and Tom looked over at you, still hanging your head off the couch. “Can you do it for me?”
“Oh, let me think about it,” you said sarcastically, sitting upright and shaking away the headrush. “It’s still a no.”
Benny, who’d been in the kitchen, came into the living room, two beers in his hands. “What’s going on?” He asked, sitting beside you and handing you a beer. “I heard Sparky complaining.”
You took the drink and sighed deeply. “Your brother and my brother are determined to set me up on a date,” you said.
“With who?” Benny asked, suddenly eager.
“Your best friend.”
That got Benny’s attention. “Frankie?” He said, looking at Tom and Will. “Jesus Sparky, you’d tear the poor man to shreds. No offense to Frankie, but you’re a bit too sporadic for him.”
“He’s a military pilot,” Will pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “If he can’t handle a little action, he’s in the wrong profession. Plus, he needs a distraction after our last mission.”
“Sparky isn’t a distraction!”
You looked from Tom to Will to Benny and then back again. “So now I can’t ask him out?”
“Do whatever you want,” Will said, sitting back and draining the last of his beer. “Just don’t ruin our pilot.”
But Benny’s puppy eyes were enough to deter you. Not that you very much wanted to seduce Frankie. Sure he was sweet, and attractive, and the all around perfect man. And yeah, okay, maybe you did want to seduce him just a little bit. But you wouldn’t. For Benny.
Benny, of course, sure as hell didn’t stop you from accepting an invitation to the carnival three days later. All six of you were going to go together, as a friends trip before the boys got deployed again.
Four days before the trip, Will canceled. He said one of his friends was moving and needed help.
Two days before, Tom canceled. He gave some half-assed work excuse.
The day before, Santiago canceled. He got called into training early and didn’t have a choice.
As you were getting ready, literally tying your shoes, Benny called you.
“Hey,” he said thickly. He sounded like he’d been dragged through the mud. “I can’t come today.”
“Why?” You asked, standing up straight and preparing to abandon all hopes of the carnival.
Benny sighed. “I’m sick,” he grumbled. “Will said it was just a cold, but I feel like shit.”
“Should I come over?” You asked.
“Nah,” Benny said. “Go have fun. Fish is waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to ruin his evening.”
You rolled your eyes. “Get some rest,” you said. “I’ll go. But do expect plenty of pictures. I want to make you thoroughly jealous.”
Benny hung up after that, and you grabbed your keys. Shooting Frankie a quick text, you got into your car and headed towards the carnival.
The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon when you arrived, parking beside Frankie’s truck and waving to him as you got out. He was sitting in the bed of his truck, waiting for you.
“Just you and me, huh?” He asked as you locked your car and hopped into his truck bed with ease.
“Apparently,” you said. “Benny’s got something gunky. He’s sick.”
Frankie winced. “Ouch,” he said. “Well. Shall we make him unbearably jealous?”
You laughed, leaning against Frankie and looking out over the bustling carnival. “I think we shall.”
Thankfully, you didn’t have any trouble getting comfortable at the carnival. It was an annual event, and you went every year. But you’d never been with anyone else. This would be fun.
“Where to first?” Frankie asked, and you looked around, smiling at the scene before you. It was cheerful, something you loved with all your heart. Even the danger of the mildly unstable rides couldn’t stop you from enjoying yourself tonight.
“I think food,” you decided, looking at a stall selling shaved ice and ice cream. “Then some of those ridiculously rigged games?”
Frankie laughed. “I like the way you think,” he said. “What do you want?”
You both ordered something completely different, you going for your favorite ice cream and Frankie opting for raspberry lemonade sorbet.
“Oh my god this is so good,” Frankie said, taking a bite. “Fuck.”
Laughing, you waved your spoon towards his cup. “Let me taste?”
Frankie held his cup out to you, and you dug into the sorbet, almost chipping the shitty styrofoam cup in the process. The sorbet was amazing, all sweet and tangy and perfect. You moaned around your spoon, grinning and gesturing to the cup. “That is fucking delicious!”
“I told you so!” Frankie said. “You didn’t believe me?”
“I definitely believed you,” you argued playfully. “And I am missing Wheel of Fortune for this, so we’d better make it good.”
Frankie snorted around his spoon, heading towards a horribly unstable tilt-a-whirl. You followed, meeting his lazy pace. “You are such an old woman,” he said. “The only other person I know who watches that shit is my grandmother.”
“When you get back, we have got to have a trivia date,” you decided. “Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. I’ll make popcorn.”
Eyeing the tilt-a-whirl, Frankie nodded. “If you can hold your ice cream, we can absolutely have a trivia night. Just us.”
Thankfully, you’d always had a stomach of steel, and when you and Frankie wobbled off the ride, you kept your ice cream down, and you were incredibly triumphant about it.
“What now?” Frankie grumbled, trying to find his feet again. “I can’t see straight.”
“Perfect time to play some games,” you said happily, putting an arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “Take your time soldier. Find your feet.”
Frankie gave you a look, but didn’t say anything as he stumbled upright finally and began to walk straight again. You pat his back, leading him towards the rigged games.
“Okay, you are a whole ass soldier,” you said, handing Frankie a shitty plastic gun and passing three bucks over to the employee running the game. “This is a test of aim. If you fail this, I’m calling Tom.”
Frankie snorted and held the gun out, crouching a bit due to the cord securing the gun to the game. He took a breath, wiggled his feet, and shot.
Thankfully, he didn’t miss. The teenager behind the counter huffed a laugh, handing Frankie five tickets. He pocketed them, grinning at you. “You were saying?”
“So I won’t call Tom,” you said. “Congrats.”
The pair of you played a few more games, some you won and some you lost. Frankie did his best at a horribly rigged ring toss, and as endearing as his efforts were, he eventually had to give up, having won nothing.
“That was sad,” you decided, digging through your pockets and counting up your tickets. “Why the hell did you keep going?”
“It looked easy!” Frankie defended, counting his tickets as well. “Forty.”
“Thirty five,” you said, mentally tallying the numbers. “That’s, what? Seventy five?”
Frankie nodded. “Should be.”
Seventy five tickets wasn’t a ton, but it was just enough for you to get two little stuffed animals, one for you and one for Frankie, and you even had five tickets left over.
“The swings is five bucks or five tickets,” you said, tucking your new stuffed bear, who you’d affectionately named Truck into your bag. “Are you scared of heights?”
“Oh please,” Frankie said, taking your hand. “I was made for heights.”
The wait was damn near agonizing, but when you finally got on the ride, you found your stomach knotting up. Every single horror story of carnival rides you’d ever read was flashing through your mind, and you were suddenly incredibly nervous.
“Scared?” Frankie asked as you two sat down, the rickety metal creaking and making you jump.
“No,” you denied, gripping poor Truck in your bag. “Definitely not.”
Frankie smiled, taking your hand and gently massaging the back of your hand with his thumb. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Trust me.”
“I trust you,” you said, wincing as the ride began to move. “This machine, however, I do not trust.”
Still holding your hand tight as he dared, Frankie laughed, the wind nearly knocking his hat off his head. He pulled it off, handing it to you. “Hold this for me?” He shouted.
You nodded, slipping the hat onto your head backwards, holding it with your free hand and looking over at Frankie. He was still grinning wildly, his face painted in the golden light from the setting sun. He was fucking breathtaking, haloed in the gold and the shitty blinking lights of the carnival, his eyes alight with childish glee, and you almost didn’t regret what you did next.
Leaning across the divide, you grabbed his face with your free hand and kissed him. Frankie hummed, blinking twice before squeezing your face with both his hands and kissing you back. Suddenly, every ounce of fear was gone, and you were flying, high on the euphoric rush of finally kissing Frankie.
By the time you’d come down off the rush, the ride was slowing to a stop, and both yours and Frankie’s faces were flushed red. He stared at you, and you stared at him for all of two seconds before he kissed you again, this time intentionally.
“Jesus,” you breathed quietly, barely an once from Frankie’s face. “Fuck.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Frankie said, smiling.
You stepped off the ride, hand in hand, and Frankie looked out over the carnival. “Fireworks are starting soon,” he said. “After that, should we head to my place?”
“Tom’s gonna be at mine, so yes,” you said, smiling. “I think that sounds like a very good plan.”
Halfway across the carnival, three figures were watching as you trailed across the grass, unbeknownst to you and your date.
“Look at them.”
“It’s disgusting.”
“Okay, just because you don’t believe in love doesn’t mean that isn’t the most adorable thing ever.”
“That’s my sibling!”
“Too bad Santi couldn’t be here.”
“Oh he would’ve outed us already and you know it.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You ate twenty minutes ago. Shut up.”
Benny chuckled, leaning over and watching Frankie loop his arm with Sparky’s. “This is so sickening.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Will hummed, taking another picture and sending it to Santiago. “After all, how long have they been pining for one another? Three years, four?”
“Almost six,” Tom mumbled, the corners of his lips turned upwards in a tiny smile. “They’re good together.”
“Think we did the right thing?” Benny asked, looking at his brother and friend. “I mean. We did kinda lie to them both.”
Will shook his head. “If we didn’t give them this push, they never would’ve gotten together,” he reasoned. “It’s no different than every other time we’ve set Fish up with people.”
Looking out over the carnival, where Sparky and Frankie were settling down on the grass to watch the fireworks slowly beginning to pepper the sky, all three boys silently agreed that this was the best possible outcome for their clueless set-up soulmates.
Pairing: Trans Masc! Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/GN! Trans! Reader
Word Count: 2,835
Warnings: Tears, sad, angst, somehow I cannot write happy Frankie, mentions of surgery, canon-typical language, there is no specification whether Reader is FtM or MtF.
You sighed, wiping down the bar, trying to get it clean. Some asshole had spilled his drink all over it on purpose because apparently you sucked as a bartender, and now you had to clean it up. Fantastic.
Nearing closing on a Tuesday night, not many people were in the bar. It was a fight night at the local ring, so you’d seen more traffic than usual, but all those customers were long gone. Now, it was only the few lingering patrons at the bar and the laughing group huddled around a pool table. All the late night regulars were familiar, but most of the boys in the corner weren’t. You recognized Benny, who had fought tonight, but his friends were strangers.
“Hey!” A cheerful voice said, pulling you from your work. You tossed the rag into a bucket and looked up. Benny was sitting at the bar, smiling. Another man was beside him, a bit more reserved looking.
You put on a grin and approached Benny. “Congrats on the fight,” you said, preemptively grabbing a glass. “Didn’t think you could do it.”
Benny gasped dramatically. “You wound me,” he said happily. “Have you met Fish?”
You blinked a few times in surprise. There was no way his actual name was Fish. “No, I haven’t,” you said, keeping your tone measured. “Nice to meet you.”
The man beside Benny shook your hand. “It’s Frankie,” he said. “Fish is just a nickname, I promise.”
“Well that explains it,” you said with a smile, setting the glass down. “Fish is quite the odd name. What can I get you boys?”
They both ordered beers, and Frankie paid for them both. You nodded to him as you slid the bottles across the counter and went back to cleaning up for the night.
The boys in the corner stayed until closing, when you actually had to tell them to leave.
“Are any of you sober enough to drive?” You asked, seeing them pile into a beat up truck.
“Will is,” Benny promised, eyeing Frankie, who was stumbling just a tiny bit. “But he probably isn’t, and he has his own ride.”
You sighed, watching Frankie fumble with his keys. “Fish!”
He looked around, almost dropping his keys. “Yeah?”
You opened your car’s passenger door, gesturing inside. “Get in. You can’t drive home.”
“But my truck,” Frankie said softly, looking at his truck. “It’ll be here all night.”
One of the men in the other truck piped up. “Fish, I’ll drive you out to pick it up tomorrow morning. The bartender’s right, you can’t drive home.”
Frankie sighed. “I’ve piloted drunker than this,” he complained, but abandoned his vehicle for yours all the same.
Once he’d put his address into your GPS, you started to drive to his house. Frankie was oddly sullen in your passenger seat, quietly pouting over the fact that he couldn’t drive himself home.
“So,” you said, trying to make small talk. “You’re a pilot?”
“Used to be,” Frankie responded. “Military. I piloted the helicopters.”
You whistled. “That’s a job,” you said, impressed. “I guess that explains Fish.”
Frankie chuckled. “It’s actually Catfish,” he said. “But as if I didn’t have enough nicknames, Benny started calling me Fish.”
“Is Frankie a nickname?” You asked, purely curious.
“For Francisco.”
You nodded. “I knew a Frankie when I was in high school,” you said. “Her full name was Francesa. She was close with my older sister. She was, I dunno, three years above me? Or maybe four. God, she was fucking beautiful,” you mused softly.
You pulled into Frankie’s driveway, smiling. “I take it I’ll see you soon. The bar is super popular for fight night.”
Frankie nodded, getting out. “Thanks for the ride,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”
Thoughts of Frankie after that were few and far between. You worked and you assumed he worked, considering his truck was gone by the time you showed up the next day. Benny came around occasionally with his brother, but the other two, Santiago and Frankie, never accompanied them.
The next time you saw Frankie was when you actually went to a fight night. He was cheering Benny on with the other two boys, and when they saw you, they gestured you over.
“Fancy seeing you here!” Will shouted, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “I thought you weren’t a fight person?”
“Figured I’d see what the buzz is about!” You yelled back, smiling and waving to Santiago. “Where’d Frankie go? I just saw him over here.”
“Bathroom!” Will said loudly, turning his attention to the fight and yelling encouragement at Benny.
A few minutes later, you were headed to the bathroom yourself. In all the jostling, Will had accidentally spilled his drink on you. You weren’t complaining, and you smiled when he offered you his dry spare shirt.
The women’s bathroom was mostly empty when you entered it. You typically preferred the gender neutral ones, but the building didn’t have one, and the men’s was full with a pretty long line. You quickly ducked into a stall and changed your shirt, balling up your wet one and exiting the stall. You almost ran directly into someone, and when you pulled back to apologize, you were stunned.
“Frankie?”
Frankie froze, his eyes wide. “What,” he breathed.
You held up your shirt. “Will spilled his drink all over me. I had to change.”
“Oh,” Frankie said, fidgeting nervously with his hands. “Okay.”
“Let’s get back to the fight,” you said. “Benny was fighting when I left, I wonder if he’s still out there.”
Frankie nodded, following you out of the bathroom and back to the fight. He was quiet for most of the night, even after you all went to the bar and he had two drinks. When you were left alone to clean up after the bar rush, you called your older sister.
“Hey Myra,” you said cheerily, wedging the phone between your cheek and your shoulder. “How’re you?”
“What do you want?” Myra asked. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you, but it’s really late.”
You sighed. “I just had a quick question about one of your friends from high school.”
Myra audibly groaned. “Who?”
“Frankie,” you said, tossing your rag in the wash bucket and leaning against the bar. “She was super sweet, what happened to her?”
“Frankie who you had a raging crush on?” Myra asked, stifling a yawn. “Yeah. We kept in touch while I was in college, but she joined the military after a few years. Cut off all her hair and got a super weird younger boyfriend. We lost touch after she started doing military shit all the time. Why?”
You shrugged. “Dunno. I met some nice guys at the bar, and one of them is named Frankie. It just reminded me of our Frankie, and how we haven’t heard jack about her.”
“Huh,” Myra said softly. “I can probably find our Frankie. She’d be, what? In her forties now? She was older than me, but only by nine months. I’ll get back to you if I find something.”
“You’re the best,” you said. “You’ll have to come out sometime. You know you get free drinks because we’re related.”
Myra laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “I actually have off next month, I might be able to sneak out to see you. And I can meet this mysterious other Frankie.”
“Absolutely,” you said. “Thanks so much Myra. I’ll talk to you soon.”
The next week passed in a blur. There were no fights, so you barely saw the boys. Benny came around because he said you were good company, and he not so subtly dropped hints that Frankie was single.
“I am not fucking your best friend,” you said firmly, wiping down a glass. It was technically past closing, but Benny’s ride wouldn’t arrive for another half hour and you didn’t mind harboring him. “Look. Have you really got nothing better to do on a Friday night?”
“Apparently not!” Benny said cheerfully. “And I’m not asking you to fuck him. Kiss him? Yes. Date him? Yeah, sure. But fuck him? No.”
You put the glass down and rolled your eyes. “I need a drink,” you grumbled, grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels and pouring yourself a glass. “Give up Miller. I have a type.”
“That type isn’t Frankie?” Benny asked. “He’s the perfect man! Strong, tall, handsome, caring, a great kisser.”
“Benny!” You shouted, coughing on your drink. “Fuck! A warning?”
Benny laughed. “I know from experience! C’mon. Give the guy one date. Please? He’s free tomorrow.”
You sighed. “One date,” you agreed. “Just one.”
Of course, one date turned into multiple after your first date with Frankie was him giving you a helicopter ride around the city. Once that was over, you just couldn’t let him go.
“Oh shit!” You said one night a few weeks after your first date, nearly dropping the bottle you were holding and laughing. “Myra!”
You’d almost forgotten your sister was coming. She leaned on the bar and smiled. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” you said, handing a customer their drink. “That’s Benny, right there. Next to him is his brother Will. There’s Santiago, on the end, and that charmer who’s making eyes at me is Frankie.” You waved at Frankie and he waved back. “He and I have been dating for a few weeks. Sorry I forgot to tell you.”
Myra shook her head. “It’s fine. Frankie looks familiar.”
You made a face. “Really? He’s your age, I think.”
“Forties?”
“Yep.”
Myra went wide eyed. “Career?”
“Former military pilot, currently works for Standard Oil and does helo tours on the side, why?” You were confused.
“Is his name Frankie Morales?”
Now you were starting to get really worried. “Yes, why?” You asked again.
Myra leaned back, taking a deep breath. “That Frankie is our Frankie. My old friend, that’s her.”
You looked at Frankie, who was looking back at you, worried. “I’m sorry?”
“Francesca Morales, that was my best friend,” Myra said. “And she is now a he.”
“Frankie,” you said. “This is my older sister Myra. Myra, this is Frankie, my boyfriend.”
Myra smiled politely. “Hello Frankie.”
“Hey Myra,” Frankie said. “You look familiar, have we met before?”
“Yeah.” Myra leaned on the bar’s surface. “I think we went to high school together. Long time ago.”
Frankie grew visibly nervous. “Oh,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “Yeah. Long time ago.”
You noticed how green Frankie was looking and immediately waved Benny over. “Benny!”
He walked over, smiling until he saw the tension between Myra and Frankie. “What’s up?”
“Fish out of water,” you said softly, leaning towards him so he could hear you. “Can you get Will to take him home?”
Benny nodded, tugging on Frankie’s sleeve. “C’mon Fishstick, I think we’ve all had enough fun here. Pope’s starting to make bad decisions.”
Frankie numbly followed Benny away from the bar, and you turned on Myra. “What the fuck?” You hissed. “Why the hell did you say that?”
“He asked!” Myra said defensively. “Loosen up, it’s not that bad.”
That somehow made it worse. “No, Myra, it is that bad! Frankie’s a worrier, and you saw his face!” Already, your head was running with how Frankie would react. Knowing him, he’d shut down.
Myra left a few minutes later, when the bar closed. You waved goodbye to her, still a bit pissed. She had no right to treat Frankie the way she did.
You took a breath, seeing Benny leaning against your car. “Benny.”
“Hey,” Benny said, his voice low and dejected.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, nervous. “Is Frankie okay?”
Benny shrugged. “He’s fine,” he said. “Kind of.”
That sent a stab of anxiety into your chest. “That’s not good,” you murmured.
“No it isn’t,” Benny agreed. “You know how he gets about those kinds of things. All in his head and shit.”
“Yeah,” you said. “Is he home safe?”
Benny nodded. “With Will and Santi. Will’s gonna stay the night with him.”
“Okay.” Silence lapsed over you two. The calm of the night suddenly suffocating and cold. You had to ask. You had to. “Benny?”
“Hm?”
You steeled your nerves, taking a deep breath before asking Benny the burning question in your chest. “Is Frankie transgender?”
Benny’s eyes went wide. “What?” He breathed, shock filling his voice. “How- What- We never- I’m sorry- I just-“
You put a hand up, cutting Benny’s panicked stumbling off. “Wild guess!” You said, probably louder than you should’ve. “Benny! It isn’t your fault!”
“But-“
“Not your fault,” you promised slowly, putting your hands on Benny’s arms. “Hey, it’s okay. My sister knew Frankie in high school. I just- I wanted to make sure.”
Benny shook his head. “He trusted me!” He said, tears spilling down his face. “He told me, and I promised I would never let anyone find out!”
You sighed, grabbing Benny tight and holding him close. “Benny,” you said softly. “I knew Frankie way before you. Before Santi even. I knew him when he was in middle school. He didn’t have a secret to protect back then. You kept him safe, kept his secrets, but nothing can stop the past from catching up to you.”
Benny sniffled, burying his head in your shoulder and letting out a huge breath. “He’s probably all messed up at home.”
“He probably is,” you agreed softly. “Should we go see if we can help?”
Benny nodded, and just like that, you were off, speeding to Frankie’s house and probably breaking three different traffic rules in the process. You got to his house in record time, jumping out of the car and ducking under the opening garage door in order to get into the house that much faster.
You opened the door to immediate chaos. Frankie was absolutely sobbing on the kitchen floor, curled in a desperate ball. Santiago was holding him upright, rubbing his back while Will rushed from room to room, his arms full of various things, none of which you could identify.
“Frankie!” You ran forward, crouching down in front of Frankie and easing his face out from between his knees. “Frankie, baby, I’m here.”
Frankie flinched away from your touch, a desperate whine hitching in the back of his throat. You teared up, lip wobbling as you took Frankie’s hands and pressed them to your face. “Baby, it’s okay,” you whispered, soft as a feather. “It’s okay. I don’t care.”
Santiago backed away, leaving you and Frankie in your own little bubble on the cold kitchen tile. Frankie’s breath hitched, and you held his hands to your face, slowly urging him away from himself.
“Frankie?” You said softly. “You okay?”
“Hate me?”
Your heart shattered. “No,” you insisted firmly. “No, no I could never hate you.”
“But-“
“Me too,” you said quickly, cutting off any protests Frankie gave. You guided his hand to your chest, laying his warm palm against your skin and feeling your heart beat wild beneath his fingers. “Me too.”
Frankie’s eyes went wide. “You too?”
“Me too.”
Frankie let out a sob, falling into your arms and holding you tight. Two pieces of a different puzzle, slotting together in a near perfect way. Frankie nuzzled into your shoulder, breathing deep and holding you close. You pulled him practically into your lap, cradling his head with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. It was heaven.
Finally, Frankie pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, tracing his fingers across your face. “Just like me,” he whispered, a grin finally blessing his face once more. “Just like me.”
You kissed his forehead, hyperaware of Frankie’s friends sneaking out of the house behind his back. “Yes Frankie,” you said softly. “Just like you.”
Two years later
“Ready?”
You squeezed Frankie’s hand, tight and hard. He squeezed back, his firm reassurance there and present, as it always was.
Two years had gone by in the blink of an eye, two years of pain and tears and laughter and memories. Two years of hormone therapy and sleepless sick nights. Two years of Frankie Morales.
“Ready,” he replied, nodding to the two nurses beside you both. Twin IVs were slid into your arms, and you took a deep breath. After months, you and Frankie were both having a surgery you’d had to fight for. Chest surgery.
Frankie’s eyes blinked slowly shut, his smile still present as he squeezed your hand again. You gave him a reply squeeze, feeling the nurses wheel you both into surgery, your hands always gripping each other, your hearts always connected through your fingertips.
You knew that when you woke, it would be to him, his bright smile and his joyous eyes. His tears of ecstasy as he finally saw himself as he was, his continued tears as you saw yourself. Two halves of a whole, two beautiful souls, bound to one another for eternity
Summary: When an old acquaintance reemerges in your life with a offer too good to refuse, you find yourself trekking through the woods with a pack of werewolves, one of which has an undeniable pull. Skilled and trained in pack handling, you somehow find yourself in over your head.
Warnings: Werewolf AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Canonical violence, Canonical death, Pining, Angst, Miscommunication, Explicit Smut, Bonding, Slight soulmates/Fated/True Mates, Mentions of guns, Mentions of violence, Peril, Mentions of wounds, Vague descriptions of death, Monster fucking, Monster attack
Wordcount: 12k
Notes: My contribution to The Moon of May writing challenge! I’ve wanted to play around with a few werewolf characters and I love that a/b/o au is basically an offshoot of that, so this seems perfect to have a little bit of angst and intensity with our wonderful Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales!
He is something else I love him so much. They are good together and this warms my heart and it’s so cute! I would like to see some more of this universe. Her meeting Marisol? her meeting the boys? her totally destroying his ex because Mari starts calling you mama too? Frankie being possessive bastard and giving you little bites and hickeys to all your colleagues know how he loves his girl. I’m too in love and too invested in this story I’m sorry it’s just so perfectly written ♥️
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!plus sized reader
Word Count: 1400+
Rating:Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings:Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes:This is a continuation of How I See You. I was going to write all of the ones you asked for BUT since this, you’ve asked me to turn it into a series so I think I’ll address it there!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Frankie and you have been together for about 6 months now. Everything has been great - he treats you like you’re a damn khaleesi, always telling you how beautiful you are, he is the nicest guy to not just you but your friends and family too, your conversations always interesting, and not to mention the sex is just insanely hot. The man is talented, that’s for damn sure.
But with everything so perfect, why are you so nervous?
He is something else I love him so much. They are good together and this warms my heart and it’s so cute! I would like to see some more of this universe. Her meeting Marisol? her meeting the boys? her totally destroying his ex because Mari starts calling you mama too? Frankie being possessive bastard and giving you little bites and hickeys to all your colleagues know how he loves his girl. I’m too in love and too invested in this story I’m sorry it’s just so perfectly written ♥️
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!plus sized reader
Word Count: 1400+
Rating:Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings:Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes:This is a continuation of How I See You. I was going to write all of the ones you asked for BUT since this, you’ve asked me to turn it into a series so I think I’ll address it there!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Frankie and you have been together for about 6 months now. Everything has been great - he treats you like you’re a damn khaleesi, always telling you how beautiful you are, he is the nicest guy to not just you but your friends and family too, your conversations always interesting, and not to mention the sex is just insanely hot. The man is talented, that’s for damn sure.
But with everything so perfect, why are you so nervous?
He is something else I love him so much. They are good together and this warms my heart and it’s so cute! I would like to see some more of this universe. Her meeting Marisol? her meeting the boys? her totally destroying his ex because Mari starts calling you mama too? Frankie being possessive bastard and giving you little bites and hickeys to all your colleagues know how he loves his girl. I’m too in love and too invested in this story I’m sorry it’s just so perfectly written ♥️
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!plus sized reader
Word Count: 1400+
Rating:Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings:Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes:This is a continuation of How I See You. I was going to write all of the ones you asked for BUT since this, you’ve asked me to turn it into a series so I think I’ll address it there!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Frankie and you have been together for about 6 months now. Everything has been great - he treats you like you’re a damn khaleesi, always telling you how beautiful you are, he is the nicest guy to not just you but your friends and family too, your conversations always interesting, and not to mention the sex is just insanely hot. The man is talented, that’s for damn sure.
But with everything so perfect, why are you so nervous?
He is something else I love him so much. They are good together and this warms my heart and it’s so cute! I would like to see some more of this universe. Her meeting Marisol? her meeting the boys? her totally destroying his ex because Mari starts calling you mama too? Frankie being possessive bastard and giving you little bites and hickeys to all your colleagues know how he loves his girl. I’m too in love and too invested in this story I’m sorry it’s just so perfectly written ♥️
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!plus sized reader
Word Count: 1400+
Rating:Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings:Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes:This is a continuation of How I See You. I was going to write all of the ones you asked for BUT since this, you’ve asked me to turn it into a series so I think I’ll address it there!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Frankie and you have been together for about 6 months now. Everything has been great - he treats you like you’re a damn khaleesi, always telling you how beautiful you are, he is the nicest guy to not just you but your friends and family too, your conversations always interesting, and not to mention the sex is just insanely hot. The man is talented, that’s for damn sure.
But with everything so perfect, why are you so nervous?
He is something else I love him so much. They are good together and this warms my heart and it’s so cute! I would like to see some more of this universe. Her meeting Marisol? her meeting the boys? her totally destroying his ex because Mari starts calling you mama too? Frankie being possessive bastard and giving you little bites and hickeys to all your colleagues know how he loves his girl. I’m too in love and too invested in this story I’m sorry it’s just so perfectly written ♥️
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!plus sized reader
Word Count: 1400+
Rating:Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings:Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes:This is a continuation of How I See You. I was going to write all of the ones you asked for BUT since this, you’ve asked me to turn it into a series so I think I’ll address it there!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Frankie and you have been together for about 6 months now. Everything has been great - he treats you like you’re a damn khaleesi, always telling you how beautiful you are, he is the nicest guy to not just you but your friends and family too, your conversations always interesting, and not to mention the sex is just insanely hot. The man is talented, that’s for damn sure.
But with everything so perfect, why are you so nervous?
He is something else I love him so much. They are good together and this warms my heart and it’s so cute! I would like to see some more of this universe. Her meeting Marisol? her meeting the boys? her totally destroying his ex because Mari starts calling you mama too? Frankie being possessive bastard and giving you little bites and hickeys to all your colleagues know how he loves his girl. I’m too in love and too invested in this story I’m sorry it’s just so perfectly written ♥️
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!plus sized reader
Word Count: 1400+
Rating:Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings:Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes:This is a continuation of How I See You. I was going to write all of the ones you asked for BUT since this, you’ve asked me to turn it into a series so I think I’ll address it there!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Frankie and you have been together for about 6 months now. Everything has been great - he treats you like you’re a damn khaleesi, always telling you how beautiful you are, he is the nicest guy to not just you but your friends and family too, your conversations always interesting, and not to mention the sex is just insanely hot. The man is talented, that’s for damn sure.
But with everything so perfect, why are you so nervous?
