Author’s Note: This is straight filth. There’s no plot here. One thing, and one thing only. It’s been a while since I’ve written something along these lines. I hope you enjoy it and if you do, let me know!!! <3 bisous!
Warnings: Sex, all of it. Unprotected (established relationship kinda sex / please practice safe sex y’all), PIV, biting, fingering, teasing.
Disclaimer: ✨ If you are under 21, please do not interact.✨
“Boy, you my peace when I’m wildin’ Hit this blunt and high as a pilot You’re the light to my fire (‘Cause you keep it so real) And I truly admire (How you make me feel)” Fuck Around - Tink
She had no idea how much time had passed since they walked through the front door but in what felt like no time at all, they were standing in the bedroom. Clothes were strewn about without any rhyme or reason. Her breath was coming in quiet puffs, and she stared up at him. His hair was mussed, and his pupils were black as he stared down at her.
When I tell you my jaw was and is still on the floor from this entire story omfg. Your Frankie, fuuuuuck I am
Her soft spoken and polite Frankie, finally letting it all out. It took them a while to get here, but with a lot of encouragement, trust, and understanding she eventually coaxed the dominant Frankie to the surface. The one who made his desires known. The one who studied every inch of her body to find out what made her squirm. The one who worshipped her while simultaneously fucking her into the mattress. Or through the wall. Or over the side of the kitchen island. Or on the bathroom counter.
This description tho! Holy shit if that is not perfection. I feel it would take a bit to coax that side outta Frankie and the way you wrote the lead up to it
I could literally quote this entire thing back to you because I can’t just pick one favorite part but then this, that was leading up to THE FINAL ACT
She pushed up onto her tip toes, begging for more friction. He chuckled darkly, his nose pressed into her cheek but took the hint and began a tortuously slow roll into her. Taking his time, pulling all the way out only to snap back in. A steady rock in and out. Their moans mingling in the air between them. Their bodies melding into one as he continued his painstakingly slow pace.
Her moans began to rise in volume as he hit her time after time at that a perfect angle. Her responses pulling him to push in deeper, his thrusts coming in deliberate, steadily paced snaps. He grabbed her free arm, pulling her hand to knead her breast. He let his hand rest on top of hers, experiencing the ministrations through her motions.
I’ve said it many times but I’ll say it again: FRANCISCO MORALES FUCKS AND I AM HERE FOR IT. This was SO GOOD and I will be thinking about it for the rest of the day. (Thank you )
A/N: God, I just love these two. And Meana-beana. I dunno where the strength to finish this came from - I was just minding my business eating a mandarin so… yeah. Apologies for any mistakes, it’s late lmao.
Taglist note: I’ve used my MTW taglist but if you are no longer interested, just let me know and I’ll remove you from any future fics as this is an old list, some names have changed/don’t work, and new tag requests are not added so I’m sorry for that!
Summary: Mena and Frankie have an important question for you.
Word count: just over 1.8k
Warnings: swearing, MY FAVE BESTIES BENNY + ANGEL, fluff & domesticity galore, Frankie DILF™️ Morales. It’s just fluff. Fluff everywhere. I’m soft as fuck.
Something in the back of your mind flagged certain interactions, focusing on some things said in passing or the way people just simply acted around you. It was bugging you like crazy.
It started when Frankie started acting differently.
Summary: Signs!AU. It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in. Full summary here…
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings: angst GALORE - like i’m not even kidding i cried sm, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, violence, guns, talk of death & suicide, a death i cried over, violence/injury towards an animal i also cried over, blood
Word count: just over 5.5k
A/N: Hi howdy hey. ok i was delayed and i have no excuse - i just got distracted watching suits baha. ANYWAY, here we go. Sadness everywhere. Enjoy. Also, the song playing (you’ll know when you get to the part) is Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” because that’s a damn beautiful song.
It’s another fucking splinter in your fingers keeping your mind from spiralling, the pain of it just enough to help contain the budding hysteria building in your chest.
You ignore addressing the persistent sting of it, instead holding firm against the thick plank of wood as Frankie hammers harshly against it, nailing it into the window frame. The length of timber stretches across the glass window and stops the sun shining through the pane, blocking your view of the outside.
Only when he steps away with a carved frown of vigilance, gaze critically observing the other windows that you finally move to pinch at the small splinter, a brief wince flickering across your features before your thumb rubs along your skin. The hammer picks up again, and your attention is pulled to him, eyes following the sweat that beads along the back of his neck and soaks into the collar of his shirt.
The drill had died a few windows ago, and Frankie hadn’t bothered to waste time charging the battery. He’d moved so quickly, so ruthlessly. You’d never seen this kind of expression before.
He’d torn his shed to pieces—your half restored dining table now rested legless and nailed over the back door. Chip’s kennel had been ripped apart, the various shades of red that used to be his vibrant roof now secured across the kitchen windows.
Nothing survived his mission: the coffee table Chip had chewed when he was a puppy, the old fence panelling, the scraps of tin from a long torn down workshop—it all came into the house, each memory filled item relentlessly nailed and screwed over any flicker of the outside world. Your home quickly lost its warmth with each boarded shut window, stripped of its feel of familiarity and comfort—security. Now it was the only thing in the way, one last layer of protection, of whatever was to come.
The echoes of Benny and Will moving about upstairs fill the silence beyond Frankie’s hammer, along with the light jingle of Chip’s contact tag rattling against his collar as he moves about the house in vague interest, his ears rising and dropping with each new scuffle of movement.
He soon retires from his curiosity, and instead comes to flop beside you with a long sigh, tail lightly slapping the hardwood when you bend to run a soothing hand through his fur.
“Upstairs is set. Although we ran out of wood in your bedroom, so that’s the weakest point. We’ve moved your bed in front of it.” Will says as he comes down the stairs with Benny following closely behind.
Frankie shoots them an appreciative smile. “Thank you… for helping us. You didn’t have to stay—”
The brothers reply in unison.
“Shut your stupid mouth—”
“Of course we did—”
It’s a small moment of normality, with smiles being shared so easily, and you cling to it even as they grab their bags and walk to their truck. Frankie appears from the remnants of his shed, carefully dumping a duffle bag in Will’s backseat and flipping it open to show the older Miller brother the few rifles Frankie had kept locked away.
Will immediately frowns at him. “The hell are you doing? We’re not taking those, you—”
“We’ll be locked up—you still need to get a four hour drive in. Chances are you’ll run into trouble before me, and I’d feel better knowing you’ve got the shit you need to make it safely.”
Will goes to argue, but sighs deeply knowing Frankie’s distinct stubbornness, and merely nods in thanks, stepping forward to embrace his friend tightly.
The sun starts to burn the back of your neck as you stand in the driveway and watch them, the gravel stabbing through the thin bottoms of your slippers as a distinct dryness claws at your throat, a bubble of a cry threatening to break free as the final few items are tossed in the bed of the truck.
Benny’s all smiles when he turns to you, but you see the stirrings of worry crease the edges of his expression. He swallows, bright eyes falling to the ground before his strong arms wind around you and tighten to the point you struggle to breathe. The thought hits you as soon as his face presses into your shoulder—
Is this the last time you’ll see them?
It has you returning the strength of his hug as much as you could, pressing as much love and gratitude for everything he’s done for both you and Frankie into the embrace.
Will soon takes his place as they swap over, his large hand cupping the back of your head affectionately and you can’t help the quiet sniff when he finally steps away a few moments later.
Benny’s eyes shine with the threat of tears but he stays firm, his jaw rolling to hold them in as he gazes at you both.
“I’m not sayin’ goodbye,” he mutters firmly after a moment of silence.
Will shares his sentiment with a quiet nod, cheeks straining with the effort of keeping the small smile curled on his lips.
“So…yeah.” Benny turns and gets into the truck, keeping his gaze stubbornly locked on the dashboard.
“Take care.” Will says, delivering one final affectionate slap to Frankie’s shoulder before walking around the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and soon they’re pulling away.
“Are they going to make it to her in time?” You ask quietly, watching the dust swirl as the brothers disappear down the driveway, the squeal of their tyres hitting the asphalt of the highway only just reaching your ears as they speed away.
Frankie’s arm curls around your shoulders and you cuddle into him, pressing a warm kiss to his throat. His voice is strained when he answers, thick with emotion and your hold tightens.
“I hope so. Come on, let’s go and get the old man.”
——
You flutter through the door, barely taking a second to acknowledge Harry before you’re up the stairs, calling out questions about his prescriptions and where he keeps his overnight bag. Chip bounds up the stairs after you, Harry watching on with a fond, barely there little smile. Frankie crosses the threshold, stopping in his tracks when his eyes roll over the man.
Harry looks… polished.
There hadn’t been a single day Frankie had seen him out of dirty stained overalls, smeared with earth and sweat and paint and whatever else the man had busied himself with that day. His skin is clean of oil and dirt, his clothes are pressed and neat, he’s even wearing cologne.
“Nice suit, old man.” Frankie mutters finally, voice catching in his throat as Harry shuffles over to his recliner.
He smiles, his aged face wrinkling with the stretch of it, and something about the way it sits so naturally in his expression has a budding unease building in the pit of Frankie’s stomach. Something’s off. He pushes the feeling away, instead moving for the old jacket hanging on the coat hook and stepping towards him.
“They’re saying we’ve still got a bit of time, so I think we should get comfortable at our place now. We’ve barricaded the windows and the back door, I’ll nail up the front once we’re in.”
“You think it’ll hold?”
Frankie feels the twitch of a muscle by his mouth and Harry nods, sensing the wave of dread from across the room.
No he doesn’t think it’ll hold, but it was worth a try. Maybe if they saw the house all boarded up, they wouldn’t bother. It’s wishful thinking—if they’re as hell bent on invading as the so-called ‘experts’ said, a bit of wood wouldn’t stop them, but he didn’t dare say a word when you quietly suggested it.
“I’m not leaving, Frank.”
Frankie exhales sharply, fingers tightening around the coat. “Harry, don’t do this right now, alright? Just get up.”
He wasn’t hearing it—not today, not right now.
Harry had always been stubborn, and ninety nine point nine percent of the time Frankie found it endearing—often playing along with Harry’s sharp attitude with an easy smile and humour which seemingly melted the ice king into somewhat of a paternal figure over the years… but not today, with tensions running high and his nerves shot to the fucking roof. He just needed his family safe.
“No.” Harry says simply, resting his elbows on the arms of the recliner and overlapping his hands over his stomach. “I’ve made my decision, and I’d like you to respect it.”
Frankie snorts, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And what decision is that, huh? You gonna stay here all by yourself and let whatever’s coming get to you? You gonna go down that easy, old man?”
“No. I’ll do it myself.”
“Dowhat?”
Harry’s gaze moves to the stairs, where echoes of you sound from where you move about, no doubt rifling through his medicine cabinet and packing away his usual medications. He didn’t want you around to hear this. Frankie watches him silently, teeth picking at the soft inner skin of his lower lip.
“I have no interest in living through this, Frank.”
Frankie frowns, a wave of shock rolling through his body. What does that even mean? He wantsto die? Where the hell is this coming from?
“Harry—”
“I’ve lived a damn good life, Frank.”
God no… no, please—
“Harry—”
“It’s alright, son.”
“No. She won’t leave you here. I won’t leave you here. Come on, this is stupid. We won’t let you do this.”
Harry heaves a soft sigh, lips curling softly. “This is what I want, Frank.”
“No. No, it’s not. You’re coming with us, and we’re gonna stay together, alright? You can give up—it’s fine. You can give up, but we’re not letting you die alone, okay? We’re not. Damn it, Harry, you can’t do this to me, to her—”
His knees hit the floor, and he pushes through the sudden feeling choking his throat. His fingers curl into the rough fabric of the chair, and he’s no longer fighting for himself, or Harry. It’s you. You’d spent more time with your neighbour, helping with appointments and medication and laundry and anything he ever needed—Harry was the world to you. You’d be devastatedleaving him behind.
He can’t let you go through this. He won’t. Not when everything already seems so bleak.
“Harry, please—please just…”
“Thisiswhat I want, Frank. I want to die on my own terms. Let me have my dignity. Please.”
“You shouldn’t be alone for this—”
Harry chuckles quietly, face so open and warm it creates such a sudden sense of home. A hand, rough and calloused and comforting, rests on Frankie’s hand and gives it a light, affectionate tap.
“I’m not alone, son.”
Frankie’s eyes fall to the vintage gold frame next to the recliner, taking in the aged black and white photograph and the young faces of Harry and Gloria huddled together under a shower of confetti. She had passed before you and Frankie had moved in, but there was no shortage of the stories Harry would tell you on the warm evenings on his porch.
“So this is it, huh?” Frankie swallows the thickness building in his throat, heaving a long, low sigh before moving his gaze back to meet Harry’s. “This is what you want?”
The man nods, and Frankie feels defeat creep along his shoulders.
“You’re gonna break her fucking heart, Harry.”
“I know.”
You appear then, Harry’s small overnight bag in hand. Frankie stands, and he can’t bear to look at you just yet. He keeps his eyes fixed on the old rug, taking a few deep breaths to calm the flood of anguish filling his system. Would you hate him after this?
“Are you ready?” You ask, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Harry stands, taking your outstretched hand and returning your small smile.
“I am, love.”
You smile at his words, but only Frankie understands what they truly mean. He tries to prepare; tries to get his thoughts and emotions in order before it happens and you’re left heartbroken and reeling. Would you even understand?
Harry pauses on the porch and you gently come to a stop when you feel the tug at your hand. You watch his eyes roll over the fields, thinking he just needed a few minutes to take it in before hiding away in your home.
“She would’ve loved you.” Harry says quietly after a few moments, and your eyes roll to meet his.
Gloria?Your brows twitch a little in confusion at his words, but you shoot him a little smile. “I’m sure I would’ve loved her, too.”
Harry hums, taking another moment of silence before speaking again. “Take care of my girl, Frank.”
Frankie appears at your side, jaw tight and dark eyes shining. “Yes, sir.”
Harry turns his attention to you, squeezing your hand softly. “And you take care of my boy.”
Your confusion grows. “Harry, I don’t understand—”
“It’s gonna be alright, love. You’ve got each other. Now off you go.”
“What? No, y—you’re coming with us.”
It’s obvious. Isn’t it obvious? Your frown deepens, your eyes darting to Frankie but he refuses to meet your gaze. What did he know that you didn’t? Your gaze flies back to Harry, anxiety starting to creep along your nerves.
“Youarecoming with us… right?”
“Not today, love. I’m staying here.”
“The hell you are—”
You don’t mean to raise your voice at him, but it’s just all so stupid. It’s fucking stupid. He should want to be safe. He should want to be with his loved ones. What was left? The invasion… it was happening, whether he wanted to address it or not. He couldn’t stay here, it was certain death—
Harry’s unwavering gaze hits you square in the chest. You feel like you’ve just taken a fist to the stomach. Your mouth opens, but you can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. You couldn’t just leave him here. Not to endure whatever was coming alone.
“Well… we’ll stay here then—”
He’s shaking his head before you even finish your sentence. “It’s my time, love. I’ve decided what I want to do. It’s alright.”
What he wants to do? What does that even mean?
“It’s not—”
“I’ve made my choice. I’m going to be with my sweetheart, you need to be with yours.”
“But I—”
You stop, finding yourself with nothing to say to change his mind. You look to Frankie for some help, silently begging him to say something, but deep down you know it wouldn’t matter. You couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force him. You didn’t want the last moments between you to be full of anger and resentment because you made him do something he didn’t want to do, because you ignored his wishes and made him die the way he didn’t want to.
A tremble overtakes your bottom lip, and you inhale to calm the threat of sobs building in your chest, carefully putting his bag down by his feet.
“Okay,” you whisper weakly, “okay. If this is really what you want.”
Harry nods, his rough hand squeezing yours one final time before he releases his grip. You let Frankie help you down the steps, your eyes unable to move from Harry where he stands watching you go with a small comforting smile.
You’re almost to the truck when you can’t help but break free from Frankie’s hold and run towards the house, quickly advancing up the steps and wrapping your arms tightly around your neighbour.
He returns it just as strongly, murmuring a quiet reassurance before he sends you on your way, waving one last time to Frankie. You don’t dare to look away from him as Frankie drives away, turning you head and watching him fade from view through the back window, and when you get home, you strain your eyes to look in the distance and find he’s no longer standing on his porch.
——
You refuse to call it a last meal.
Even while cooking, you refused to acknowledge the strange finality hanging in the air as you moved about the kitchen, preparing whatever dishes you could from ingredients found in the cupboards. Maybe it was just something your mind tried to distract you with, to keep your thoughts from running and focusing on the losses you had already suffered today.
Frankie sits opposite you, soft eyes rolling over each dish before speaking quietly, “I want to pray.”
Your eyes fly to his face in surprise. He’d never been into religion, apart from the Sundays his mother would take him to church when he was younger, so his quiet declaration was unexpected, but you quickly school your features before his gaze moves to yours, and you smile softly.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
He swallows, almost nervously, his tongue running along his lips before he reaches forward to take your hands. He feels so out of depth. He hadn’t prayed in years. Did this make him a hypocrite? To only turn to God when it’s too late?
He stays silent, lips pursing in thought.
“I’ve forgotten how these fucking things go.” He mutters, cheeks finally creasing with a grin when you giggle tiredly at his words.
“Well I don’t think that’sright.”
He’s quiet for another moment longer before his voice starts a quiet prayer, and you take a quick second to admire his face in the low candlelight while his eyes are closed. You follow the curve of his nose, trace the patches of dark facial hair running along his jaw, watch the way his soft lips move with each word and your heart grows heavy in your chest.
So beautiful.
You feel emotion bubble up in your throat as his words melt in your ears, asking whoever could possibly be looking down on humanity—if any—to ensure you were kept safe and unharmed, to spare you from any pain and suffering and to find peace no matter what happens.
Your fingers tighten around his. “What about you?”
One eye snaps open and focuses on you, “What about me?”
“I don’t want Heaven if you’re not there. Make sure He knows we’re a package deal. Chip, too.”
He snorts, eye closing and grin widening. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
Your eyes finally close, and you sigh lightly. “Well it does with us.”
The food’s cold by the time you get around to eating it, but neither of you mind. Frankie keeps up most of the conversation as you pick at the food, keeping you present and focused on the now and not what’s coming. It feels almost normal. It feels like the world isn’t ending, even if only for a little while. You both ignore the dishes and the mess leftover, instead moving to the lounge room where the radio plays soft melodies.
The radio stations had long been abandoned, with everyone running to be with their loved ones, but they had set up playlists until it could no longer play. Loss of service would be the beginning, they had said. A part of you hopes the music will never stop.
“Can we… can we dance?”
It’s your watery eyes that have him nodding, his hand immediately reaching out to curl around yours. He tugs until you’re pressed against him, your face buried in his shirt and he breathes you in, eyes scrunching shut and devoting every sense to remembering the smell of you, the feelof you.
His lips trace whatever skin he can reach, his hands cradle and cup and roam. Long moments pass before he even remembers your request, and so he starts to sway, the muscles in his jaw straining as he fights the building lump in his throat.
“I should’ve danced with you more.” He whispers regretfully, cheek resting against the side of your head.
You shake your head, pulling gently away to gaze at him. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I would.”
“No,” you shake your head again, smiling despite the tears that build along your lash line. “Everything was so perfect. I’m so—I’m so happy to have found you, Frankie. What we have… I’m so thankful.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs, sincerity ringing through his statement as a warm hand cradles your cheek softly.
A gentle heat washes along under your skin, and you turn into his touch with a soft chuckle, eyes fluttering closed as his rough thumb brushes softly over the skin under your eye, swiping away the lone tear you didn’t even know had fallen. Lips press against yours and you melt into his kiss, smiling against his lips.
“Ditto, Mr Morales.”
Static cuts through the air.
It’s an abrupt end to the soothing music that had just been filling the room, and he feels the way you shift, the way your breathing starts to accelerate and how you start to tremble in his hold. He hates that there’s nothing he can do.
“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
“God, I love you so fucking muchFrankie—”
“I know, baby. I know. I love you.”
A creak sounds from the front of the house, the usual quiet groan of the timber porch adjusting under body weight filling your ears like the thunder of a jet plane engine. Frankie’s head turns to the boarded up front door, his crushing hold keeping you tight up against him.
Your voice is shaky, and muffled against his shirt as your fingers dig into his chest. “They’re here.”
Chip confirms your words, the heckles along his back rising as takes a protective stance in front of you both, a series of sharp fierce barks tearing from his throat as a shadow passes by the slither of daylight peaking through the cracks in the barricaded window.
You jolt with a cry at the sudden gunfire.
Harry.
Bile builds in your throat but you swallow it down, chest heaving with the effort of fighting the sobs threatening to break free. Was that it? Was that him taking his decision into his own hands? You hate to think of your elderly neighbour ending his life, but maybe that’s better than waiting for whatever will happen…
It’s okay.
He’s gone. He won’t suffer anything now. He won’t suffer, he won’t—
Another shot.
Only this time, you can hearhim after it. He’s yelling, his hoarse aged voice filled with fury and melting through the walls and then you’re fighting for Frankie to release you, rushing to the door and resting your hands against the wood in desperation.
He’s out there.
Did he change his mind? Did he want to be with you both?
“Harry?!”
You know he can’t hear you, and yet you can’t help but call for him. Your hands bang against the wood, your fingers curl around the edge of the timber and pull, but the nails beaten into the edges hold firm. You’re incoherent, words falling in a mixture of confusing pleas as your head spins, your gaze anxiously flittering over anything you could use to pry the panel away.
“Frankie, we have to open the door!”
Another shot, and you can’t help the pained cry that joins it.
“Harry!”
You listen to him shout, tears slipping free from your eyes and sliding down your cheeks as his demands of whatever’s lurking around your house to leave you alone sound through the door.
“Frankie,come on—!”
He’s staring at the door when you quickly turn to him, to beg him to find the hammer and rip this stupid fucking barricade away so you could get to Harry and pull him in to safety, but he stays motionless. A single tear falls, followed by another, and then another, and yet he still doesn’t fucking move.
His gaze flickers to meet yours, and you see the swirling quiet apology filling his eyes behind the hard determined edge to his expression.
No he won’t open the door.
As much as something in him screams at him to run to Harry’s aid, he refuses to gamble with your life; refuses to have you potentially torn away from him with no hope of return. He didn’t know how many… thingswere waiting outside the walls.
He runs it all through his mind, calculating every hypothetical situation with trained efficiency.
He knows where Harry is from where he had heard his voice, he knows how quickly he could get to him without anything in his way… but then what would happen to you? To Chip? Chip would undoubtedly follow him right into the thick of it. You would too, even if he begged you to stay behind… and then where would that leave you all? Out there, in the open with no cover or safety, for them to pick off as they pleased.
No.
It’s not happening.
You barely even realise how deathly silent it’s gotten. You still pound at the timber, still scream for Harry and beg for Frankie to open the door. Why won’t he open the door? Harry’s out there. Harry’s out there, and he’s alone, probably terrified—
A warm body presses into your back, Frankie’s rough hands winding around your wrists to gently bring your hands to a stop. Lips press softly against your temple, his voice quiet against your skin.
“He’s gone.”
“No—”
“He’s gone.” He repeats firmly, softly moving your hands away from the door until they’re cradled against your chest.
You don’t get a chance to mourn, to grieve. They come back. They scratch against the door and it’s almost taunting. They circle the house, they bang against the windows, and Chip doesn’t know which way to face, where to direct his attention. Frankie moves you back away from the door, his eyes hard and jaw set as the banging gets louder.
“They’re… they’re just making noise.” You whisper shakily. Why aren’t they trying to break in? Where’s the force?
He doesn’t reply, but he knows what they’re doing. He’s played these games before, worked these strategies. One team to distract, one team to infiltrate. He turns his attention to any noises behind the random banging, catching the faint hint of scratching of something above.
“They’re on the roof.”
You nod, seemingly in a daze, and turn in his arms. “Okay. It’s okay. I love you. Frankie, please look at me.”
He does immediately.
“I love you.”
He swallows, staring into your watery eyes and tracing your cheek tenderly with the back of his hand. “I love you.”
“At least we’re together.” You murmur, tears finally falling. He doesn’t have the strength to talk, but he nods in agreement. He’s happy you’re here, happy that you both came back together in time and that you weren’t somewhere alone for this.
Glass smashes on the upper floor, followed by the sudden weight of something hitting the floor and Frankie whips around to face the stairs, keeping you shielded behind him. They’re in the house. They’re in the fucking house—
Chip loses his nerve and starts to whine, backing up uneasily from the stairs. He hears your quiet whimper, feels the way your fingers grasp and tighten at the back of his shirt. He works his jaw as he strains his ears to listen to the muted thuds above you, eyes watching the stairwell and waiting, waiting for whoever—or whatever—will come down.
Was this really how he goes?
Was this really how he lets yougo?
No.
He whirls away from the stairs and grabs your hand, whistling sharply for Chip to follow, pulling and shoving you through the kitchen until you’re in the pitch-black stairwell of the basement. He urges you down the steps, waiting until Chip slips through behind him before slamming the door shut and bracing himself against it.
“Baby, what—”
“I’m not dying. Not today. We’re not—” he’s muttering and you can barely hear him over the sound of your heart thundering away in your chest, “no. I’m not ready. I’m not—I’m not ready. I don’t want to go.”
He’s trembling as he holds onto the door handle, and you move forward until your face presses into his back. You wind your arms around him and shush him gently, “It’s okay. It’s okay,baby.”
“No, no it’s not. I’m not ready. I haven’t asked you to marry me. I haven’t… god, there’s still so much I want to—fuck!”
And then the door’s shaking and Frankie’s bearing down on the ground, holding tightly onto the door handle and pushing against it to keep it closed with everything he has. The abnormal clicking sounds through the only thing keeping you separated from them and you run your hands desperately over the dusty shelving trying to find something to help as Frankie grunts behind you.
Chair. There’s a busted chair down here somewhere—
Your ankles hit something laying on the ground and you quickly grab it, dragging it over to the door and letting Frankie jam the back of it hard up under the door handle. The door rattles, the force behind it increasing with their urge to get through, but it stays firmly shut and you both exhale in relief. You find the torch that you had just passed over, flicking it on and giving it a little shake when the old battery struggles to light the bulb.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asks after a moment, dark eyes locked on the door as the banging lessons until it’s just a random thud every now and then. They’re doing it again.
“Yeah. Are you?”
He ignores your question. “When we moved in, did the realtor say anything about external access to the basement?”
“Uh, I think—”
“Where?”
You swallow as his hard eyes fix on you. “There’s a coal chute. The previous owners blocked it up, though.”
“Where?”
You lead him around the shelving and shine the torch towards the far wall, the bright beam running along the aged brick until it suddenly bathes Chip in light. His tongue lolls out of his mouth when he sees he’s got both Frankie and yours attention, his tail picking up an excited little wag. The chute was right behind him, a soft breeze playing through the grate and gently rustling his fur.
“Frankie—”
Chip‘s startled yelp fills the basement as a hand materialises out of nowhere and wraps around him tightly.
You scream for him, dropping the torch to the floor as both you and Frankie rush forward. You wrap your hands around Chip’s body, pulling against the hold around his neck with a sob. You dig your nails into the unnatural leathery feel of it, the pained hiss from behind the grate your only warning before it moves wildly for you.
You fall back just out of reach and quickly drag the solid weight of Chip with you, the soles of your shoes slipping with your hasty shuffles backwards in an effort to move away from the chute.
Frankie appears from the side and aims a harsh foot at the flailing arm, his grunt and the distinct sound of breaking bones filling the barely lit basement before the heavy slide of metal grating along the ground claws at your ears.
You don’t stop moving until you’re bathed in torchlight, not quite ready to stand and retrieve it as your heart beats wildly in your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, burying your face in Chip’s fur and cradling him tightly as Frankie works away in the darkness, ensuring whatever he had slid in front of the chute held up.
It’s when you smooth a tender hand down the underside of Chip’s jaw, running along the softness of his throat do you notice it. Your hand feels wet, warm, and you shakily bring it into view, face falling at the bright red that coats your skin.
“Oh god, Frankie—h-he’s bleeding.”
Your words bring him to you immediately.
“Hey bud, you did so good.” Frankie coos hoarsely, dropping to his knees in front of you with a sharp exhale and moving to kiss the space between Chip’s eyes. “Good boy, it’s alright, let me see—”
His fingers pry between his fur, sweat beading and sliding down his temples while his chest heaves from the sudden burst of exertion. His blood rushes through his system, adrenaline firing along his nerves and he takes another deep breath to steady the slight shake in his hands. He finds the injury, his fingertips quickly soaking from the blood as it flows freely from the wound. It’s deep.
“Fuck. It’s—it’s okay. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.”
He tugs at the hem of his shirt, tearing a strip of cotton from it and pushing it to the wound, quietly encouraging you to put pressure against it. Chip whines softly, shifting in your arms but settling when you press kisses above his ears.
“I’ve got you, baby boy. It’s gonna be okay—we’re here.”
Frankie cups your jaw, Chip’s blood smearing along your skin, and he tilts your face until his forehead presses lightly against yours. “I love you.”
You breathe a gentle sigh of relief, eyes falling closed as his warm breath blows across your face. “I love you.”
——
I know I said June 1st I’ll stop using old lists but I prematurely deleted them so yoloo. New lists now in use lmao. Fill out this form if you want to join new lists xo
Just a few quick questions to find out what the reader wants from me and my writing.
Everyoneeee! I mean everyone needs to check this amazing kickass gorgeous writer’s work out!! You will not be disappointed at all, I promise youuu! And she gots new ones to come, so come along on the beautiful breathtaking ride!
Ps.
Ekkkk! I’m so excited and can’t wait to see what you’ll create with the other fandoms! I already know they’ll be amazingly breathtakingly badass! ( but always, never rush or push yourself to get stuff done.. Do what makes you happy and such. )
Aahhh stop you are amazing and I appreciate you so much. I swear you get a kick out of making me emotional
I’m excited to write for other fandoms (and a little nervous) but I will still mainly be a pedro girl
Warnings:Fluff, public shows of affection, mentions of pregnancy., little bit of anger, mention of death and prison, mention of drugs.
A/N:req by @browneyes-issac from the prompts. “Let’s go home. I am home.” I just changed this around a little. Hope you enjoy ☺️ also I will be using my old Taglist until Sunday and then it will be the new one sign up here
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader/Halcón x Frankie Morales
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, guns and canon typical violence
Hi Everyone!! It’s been a hot minute for these three but this video collaboration with @danniburgh has been in the making for a while and it was so much fun to make and I’m excited to get to share it!
This loosely covers the events of Ch 11: It All Falls Apart, Ch 12: Blood in the Water, and just a teeny tiny bit from Ch 13: Purgatory.
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.
Summary: Signs!AU. It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in. Full summary here…
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings: angst GALORE - like i’m not even kidding i cried sm, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, violence, guns, talk of death & suicide, a death i cried over, violence/injury towards an animal i also cried over, blood
Word count: just over 5.5k
A/N: Hi howdy hey. ok i was delayed and i have no excuse - i just got distracted watching suits baha. ANYWAY, here we go. Sadness everywhere. Enjoy. Also, the song playing (you’ll know when you get to the part) is Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” because that’s a damn beautiful song.
It’s another fucking splinter in your fingers keeping your mind from spiralling, the pain of it just enough to help contain the budding hysteria building in your chest.
You ignore addressing the persistent sting of it, instead holding firm against the thick plank of wood as Frankie hammers harshly against it, nailing it into the window frame. The length of timber stretches across the glass window and stops the sun shining through the pane, blocking your view of the outside.
Only when he steps away with a carved frown of vigilance, gaze critically observing the other windows that you finally move to pinch at the small splinter, a brief wince flickering across your features before your thumb rubs along your skin. The hammer picks up again, and your attention is pulled to him, eyes following the sweat that beads along the back of his neck and soaks into the collar of his shirt.
Frankie…Frankie from across the street Frankie Morales x F!Reader
Summary:A new neighbor moves in across the street and he is the most handsome man you have seen in a long time. You know he is out of your league but will the annual neighborhood block party be just the ticket you need to make a move Words:2762 Rating:18+ Warnings/Triggers: PTSD trigger with firework sounds, language, drinking…eating? A/N: Hoping this little drabble gets me out of my writer’s block and I can get back to the multi chapter stories I started.
**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. **
The annual fourth of July block party was quickly approaching and it seemed like the perfect time to finally introduce yourself to the new man who had moved in across the street from you. It had been about a week since you saw him and your heart skipped a beat. A pair of jeans that fit him perfectly in all the right places, especially when he would bend down to pick up a box. A light gray shirt that looked like it was about to bust at the sleeves due to his broad shoulders and large biceps. “I wonder how strong he is?” you think to yourself biting your bottom lip. Watching him work was a thing of beauty. His friends weren’t half bad looking either. But you had a thing for a man with shaggy brown hair. He could feel eyes on him and he snapped his head in your direction. A smile spreads across his face and oh it is a beautiful smile. He gives a little wave and suddenly you feel incredibly awkward for staring at your new neighbor. Waving back you quickly move away from the window, now trying to hide the fact that you were still watching him work.
And that’s how your relationship with him had been going, staring at him from your window. Watching him trim the bushes along the driveway, watching him cut the grass. Taking his shirt off when it got to hot “Shit, how can he be that hot?” his golden hued skin glistening with sweet, his broad shoulders, pushing the lawn mower with ease. His ‘dad bod’ was working for you and you were wondering how he would feel pressed up against you. You worked for a school so you were on summer break and watching him was a new favorite pastime. You noticed he would leave early in the morning for work, and come home late in the evening. He didn’t seem to have someone special in his life as he was the only person you would see come and go from the house. You had wanted to go over and introduce yourself so many times, but you felt he was so out of your league that every time you talked yourself up enough to go over it was either too late in the evening or he had turned in for the night. Tomorrow was the Fourth of July bash and you were hoping that you would finally be able to introduce yourself, you also prayed that he would be there.
You walk down the street to the small park at the other end of the block. Carrying the cherry and apple pies you had baked the day before. Setting them on the table with the other desserts you notice Mel, not only your best friend but also the reason you now live where you do. She had told you about the house that just went on the market near her and you jumped at the chance to be her neighbor. She was standing next to four very attractive men, one of them just happened to be the man who lived across the street. The three other men must be the friends that were there helping him move in. She gives you a smile and motions for you to come over to where she was standing. In your mind, you were moving walking over like in those music videos super sexy and slow motions. However, your feet were glued to the ground where you were standing unmoving. You wave back at her, trying to buy yourself time and get your brain to translate to your feet to move. The signal finally gets sent and your feet move you to where she is standing, next to the grill.
“Smores!” she wraps her arms around you giving you hug, her arm still wrapped around you as she introduces the men she was standing with “…and this is Fish, he lives across the street”
“Fish…” you think to yourself as you finally get to see him up close. He is so much more handsome up close and your heart starts to race. His dark brown eyes almost hidden by a black baseball cap turn to focus on you. He has a mustache, the shaggy chestnut brown hair you had admired from far away had little curls on the end. It melts your heart, he smiles and a dimple appears making you fall in love with him even more. “Hi…” you smile and start to put your hand out when he almost drops the burger he was flipping.
“Hi” he says oh god, even his voice is sexy
“Anyways, I was just telling the guys here how amazing of a baker you are. And that you actually are the home education teacher down at the highschool” she sounds like your mother trying to impress friends
“Thanks, Mel. Can I uhm have a word with you…over there?” you nod towards the swingset where the little kids were playing.
“What are you doing?” You ask her. Not really angry, just more wishing you had a bit of liquid courage before you had talked to him
“Wingwoman, you’ve been talking about him since he moved in and have nothing about it…plus I saw his friend Pope walking to the park thought he was cute and well here we are” she waves her hands about as she talks of course she thought Pope…wait what kind of name is Pope?
“Did you see what she was wearing?” Fish asked his friend. Pope taking a swig of beer
“Shorts and a shirt, like every other girl here?” Pope responds acting as if it’s not big deal
You had thrown on a pair of jean shorts, one leg blue with white stars the other leg with red and white stripes looking very much like the American flag. Paired with a white short sleeved v-neck shirt
“She’s wearing the flag, she was literally draped in freedom. She was absolutely beautiful and like an idiot almost dropped a burger” he groans “and why did you tell her my name was Fish. She’s gonna think I’m weird”
“But you are…” Pope grins giving his friend a punch in the arm
“Shut up”
“He’s a vet, used to be a pilot…firefighter now. Helps battle wildfires” Mel tells you as the two of you sit on a sidewalk with chalk and a few of the small children from the black
“A firefighter huh?” your mind drifts off to thinking of how strong he must be, thinking of him carrying you. Mel snapping her fingers in front of your face trying to get your attention.
“Thinking about him, all hot and sweaty…carrying you over his shoulder dropping you on the bed?” She smirks knowing that’s exactly what your thinking about
“What? No!” She laughs at that “ok, maybe”
All the families moving to their little tables and blankets enjoying the burgers, hot dogs and even a few steaks. You and Mel were joined by Fish’s friends
Pope, who later found out is actually named Santiago and Frankie were in basic training together and became best friends. Frankie took on the role of woodland firefighter which led him to where he is now. Benny and Will were blood brothers as well as being in the army together. They actually helped Frankie land the job, putting his pilot skills to good use. He was apparently on call for the evening and had to run to a call. You liked his friends and oddly enough you were getting to know him very well without him actually being there.
The sun was starting to set, the kids running around the park with sparklers, and some smoke bombs being lit to keep the smaller ones entertained until the show would begin. Mel getting closer to Santiago as the evening continues on and you slowly find yourself becoming a third wheel. Frankie still hadn’t returned and you figured you missed your chance to actually meet your neighbor. Benny and Will drinking a beer and playing some football with a few of the other men
“Hey…I think I’m gonna head home” you get up from the bench. Mel had found a place on Santiago’s lap with his arm wrapped around her.
She smiles and is about to get when you shake your head telling her to stay and enjoy the fireworks, you catch Benny looking your way and wave at him. Making your way down the street back to your house the sun is just breaking the horizon and the street lights lighting your path.
“Hey S’mores” you hear a voice call out you look towards the direction the voice came, seeing Frankie sitting on the front steps of his porch
“Frrr…Fish, hi” you head toward him instead of the sidewalk leading to your front door
“You wanna sit?” and you nod your head sitting on the step next to him. “So what did, Pope tell you?”
Unsure of how much you should tell him, and actually wanting to hear it from him “oh nothing much, just that you two met at basic” he smiles taking a sip of his beer you could tell he’s been nursing for a while “that your name is Fish…and you were a pilot”
“Mmmhmm sure, he’s got a big mouth”
“He said the same about you…” you respond back and Frankie spits out the beer he was about to swallow, laughing using the back of his hand to wipe away the beer on his chin. You liked his laugh, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh “why Fish?”
“Catfish actually, callsign that they still insist on calling me. The name’s Frankie” he wipes his hand on his jeans and puts it out towards you which you take. Shaking his hand while telling him your name “What it’s not S’more’s?”
“Melody gave me that when we were kids. We met at a summer camp and that was the only thing I ate all summer. She told me I was going to turn into one and she started calling me that. Do I wanna know how you got Catfish?” You turn your body to face him, a few of the smaller fireworks just starting to rise in the night sky
“That’s a story for another time…” you see him give a small finch with a small pop
“Sooo…firefighter huh?” You ask trying to help distract him from what is going on
“Yeah…I was a pilot in Delta and I help fight fires from the air. Needed something to do with my free time now” a few more fireworks lighting up the night sky “I retired, things were going south and I needed this”
You nod your head, listening to every word he said. His voice was something like you’ve never heard before. He had a storyteller voice something, that no matter what he was talking about it would sound interesting and make you pay attention to it. A light breeze gives you a small shiver despite it being July. He shrugs off his jacket and places it around you, without saying anything. “What a gentleman” you think to yourself
“So what do you normally do during fireworks, to help?” You ask
“Shower…a long shower”
“Oh….ooooh” it took a minute for you to read between the lines. You were unsure to laugh, but he gives you a small chuckle and you smile
“Sorry…it’s not bad, I just don’t. I like when I am in control of my environment” he runs the back of his neck. Concerned that he might have said the wrong thing. More fireworks are starting to go off. The pops getting louder
“It’s ok, talk to me. I want to help you…” it was crazy you just met him and yet you feel like you have known him forever
“This…this is crazy” he continues to rub his neck but turning his body to face you “I know we just met but I’d really like to kiss you. If that’s alright. If not….”
“Frankie” you say his name as he starts to ramble.
He doesn’t hear you so you say it again. He stops and looks at you, he stops mid word, his mouth slightly opened waiting for you to say something “yes…it’s ok. I’d like that”
He takes a deep breath before slowly closing the distance between the two of you. His lips tentatively find yours, a loud pop from one of the fireworks, Frankie accidentally biting your lip. He panicked and pulled away from you “Sorry…sorry I am so sorry” your fingers moved to your lip, realizing your fine and he didn’t bite you nearly as hard as he thought he did. His hand moves back to his neck, and he turns to look away from you. Looking down at the ground and avoiding all eye contact
“Frankie,” you scoot closer to him. A hand being placed on his thigh “wanna try it again?”
“Really? I didn’t fuck that up?” He still looks at the ground, you reach for his face turning him to look at you. You smile at him and shake your head ‘no’ this time it’s you who decides to close the distance.
He sighs as your lips find his. Gentle at first, a few moments of you in control pass before you feel the shift. Frankie cups your face, he licks the seam of your lips asking permission to deepen the kiss. Your lips slightly part and his tongue darts inside as the fireworks continue to light up the night sky. His tongue brushing over yours, the grand finale taking place behind your closed eyes. Reds, blues, and yellows flood behind your eyelids. One thing is for sure you’ve never felt this with anyone before. The hand that isn’t resting on your shoulder, holding you in place holds your waist.
He breaks the kiss, quickly pecks your lips before giving you a smile. Thumb stroking your cheek, catching your breath you slowly open your eyes. His chocolate brown eyes are soft and you swear you can see the fireworks reflecting in them. You bite your bottom lip and go for it again, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him back to you. You liked the feeling of his lips on yours and wanted to experience it more, longer, never letting it go.
His hand on your hip slides down your thigh, moving it so your legs are draped over his. You move your arms around his neck. The jacket sliding off, his body warmth radiating on to you. You both try to make your bodies as close as possible, his lips move from yours to your neck. Nipping and licking on your pulse point and you can’t help the moan that escapes. The grand finale has nothing on the feeling that Frankie is giving you.
Your fingers wind into his hair, grabbing some and tugging on it. Frankie moans his lips leaving your skin and moving to your ear “you’re playing with fire if you do that again” he growls low and husky into your ear. Sending a spark through your body and suddenly you are very much a fan of fires
“Maybe I like to play with fire” you try to smile but it is quickly replaced by a moan when he bites your ear, his lips going back to work. Kissing along your jaw and finding your lips again
“Born in the USA….” You hear someone singing “I was born in the USA”
Frankie keeps his lips on yours, the signing becomes a little louder now. Frankie doesn’t seem bothered as his focus is solely on you. Your fingers threading through his soft curls. The grip on your leg tightens, “born in the USA…I was born in the USA….Fish was born in the USA”
“Oh my god Benny there are more words to the song!” Will yells breaking you from the kiss with Frankie giggling and resting your head on his shoulder
“No other words matter…I was born in the USA” he sings again more like slurs again walking about the steps to Frankie’s house “Fish, gonna get lucky in the USA”
“Benjamin Miller!” Will yells and you can’t help but laugh
The two men walk inside and the mood slightly changes. “Sorry…” he mutters “they can be a bit much”
“Continue this tomorrow?” you ask lifting your to look at him and he smiles nodding his head. You were incredibly happy that his was your new neighbor, a neighbor you finally like.
Warnings:Fluff, public shows of affection, mentions of pregnancy., little bit of anger, mention of death and prison, mention of drugs.
A/N:req by @browneyes-issac from the prompts. “Let’s go home. I am home.” I just changed this around a little. Hope you enjoy ☺️ also I will be using my old Taglist until Sunday and then it will be the new one sign up here
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?
Summary: Frankie’s work as co-owner of Wild Things involves making sure the books run smoothly. He’s content to have Max help with them, but only if they’re audited, just to be on the safe side. He’s hired the best in town - you - based on reputation alone. When he meets you to go over the final report, sparks fly - and Frankie decides to give you a little show off the books as a thank you for all your hard work. That escalates quickly.
Warnings: SMUT, PIV sex, oral and fingering (m and f receiving), facesitting, I’m in a lil bit of a trance so sry if I forgot anything
A/N: More from the Magic Markie ‘verse! Will still basically work as a standalone, if you like. This one goes out to my dear @wordsnwhiskeywho will hopefully enjoy a very special insert, with thanks as always to @ezrasbirdie for looking it over!
Frankie adjusts his tie in the elevator as it rises higher and higher, opening to the 30th floor of a gleaming office building downtown. He feels so out of place, so uncomfortable in the business attire.
He’s traded in a military uniform for a more casual look (and sometimes, nothing at all when he was on stage), and he can’t wait to get out of the suit when he gets home.
First things first: getting the report on the audit of Wild Things’ finances. After the debacle with Max and the club next door, Frankie isn’t about to take any chances. The club is his livelihood now, and he’s going to make sure everything runs smoothly, with not a dime out of place.
“Client’s here,” your secretary, Lisa, says through the intercom, her voice mildly irritated. “Same guy who’s been calling all week.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose wearily, opening a messy file. You’d been trying to get the club’s books organized, but a few months with Max Lord in charge of them before the audit had led to some confusing entries.
You’re pretty sure he’s overpaying this “Dio” character.
“Send him in,” you say with a sigh.
“Mr. Morales, I’ve been working hard on your case, I can assure you,” you say as he walks in, and stops in his tracks.
“Oh- hi,” he says, the hard set of his jaw softening as he sees you. “I- you’re the accountant?”
You purse your lips, an amused smirk crossing your face.
“Careful, Mr. Morales. You surprised that a woman is in charge here?”
Frankie licks his lips and shakes his head once.
“Not what surprised me,” he says, reaching out a broad hand over your desk. You shake it, rising from your chair.
“You don’t have to get up for me,” Frankie says, suddenly far less anxious to rush the appointment.
“I think it’s best I show you in detail what I’ve been doing,” you say, “since you’ve been so keen on calling for updates.”
Frankie’s cheeks and neck flush red, the sight sending a rush through you.
This man? The part owner of a very sexy nightclub is blushing around you? Over a little flirting?
You glance down at your top and bite your lip. It’s a poly blend, a little on the sheer side, and the office is chilly enough that your nipples are standing at attention. They likely have been since Frankie walked in. You look up and catch him staring. Then he reallyblushes.
“Have a seat,” you say, your voice a little husky. Frankie sits with a respectful “yes ma’am” and you walk around your desk, settling comfortably in the chair next to him. He listens to you, looking over the notes you’ve made on the account. He gives a little grunt of frustration when you show him where Max has been funneling a little extra money into Dio’s pocket, but you quickly show him Max has been making deposits to match. It’s not factored into the club’s overall profits, so it looks like Max is just eager to make sure Dio earns more money - or appears to be.
“He can’t use company accounts for this. He needs to talk to the kid - you said he’s young, right? - and make legal gifts to him if he wants to give him money.”
“Thanks,” Frankie says, running a hand through his curls. “Glad we’re sorting this out before tax season,” he adds with a wince.
You place a hand over his.
“Seems like this has been weighing on you,” you say. “It’ll be alright.”
“Can’t remember the last time someone said that to me. But you know what? I believe you,” Frankie says, a hint of a smile on his face. He tugs a little at his tie.
Your intercom chirps.
“Need anything before I head out?” Lisa asks. You grin. She’s not one to stay late unless absolutely necessary.
“All good. See you tomorrow,” you reply. You turn to look at Frankie. “Guess it’s quittin’ time,” you add with a chuckle. You stand and walk around your desk, opening a drawer and retrieving a bottle of whiskey.
“Care for a sip?” You offer, his eyes widening with interest as you set out two small glasses.
“I’d really like that, actually. Been a long day.” Frankie fiddles with the tie again.
“You don’t have to wear that on my account,” you say, pouring the glasses and handing one to him. Frankie smiles, releasing the knot and easing his tie out from his collar. Heat blooms through you at the sight, and you remember this man used to work for the club he now runs. Guess some things don’t change, you think, knocking back the glass.
Frankie swallows his own liquor and then sets the glass down, nodding when you offer a little more.
You pour, your eyes trained on him.
“Seems like all this has been weighing on you,” you say, setting the bottle down. You take a seat next to Frankie, crossing your legs. He nods, sighing.
“Things always ran smoothly with Javi in charge, I just didn’t wanna see the place start to have problems on my watch.”
You place a comforting hand on top of his.
“I can already tell this place means a lot to you. You’ll manage it right,” you say, smiling. Frankie’s shoulders seem to relax slightly.
“So,” he says, sipping his drink, “how did you come to be this brilliant and gorgeous businesswoman?”
You falter, and Frankie’s face falls.
“Shit, that sounded like a come-on – I meant no disrespect,” he says quickly, eyebrows furrowed together in concern.
A smile creeps over your face.
“Aw. Not even a little bit?” You ask, smirking properly at him. Frankie grins, relieved.
“Only if I knew it would be, uh. Welcome.”
You nod, biting your lip.
“It would. I might want to look at you disrespectfully, Mr. Morales,” you whisper. His lips part around a sigh of need and your eyes blaze with interest.
“I might want to give you something to look at,” he purrs, unbuttoning a couple of buttons on his shirt. “And please, call me Frankie.”
“Mm. Frankie?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Lock the door.”
He rises from his seat and does as you ask, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair. When he unbuttons his shirt, you notice his belly has a layer of softness on it and your fingers itch to touch him; to press your palms to warm flesh and feel his body.
“This show,” you breathe, eyes locking with his, “it’s…?”
“Off the books,” Frankie replies with a grin, reaching for his zipper.
“Oh— I was going to ask if it was interactive,” you say, and he grins.
“Sure thing, bonita. Come closer to me.”
You rise to your feet and step into his space and oh god that was a mistake because you can feel heat radiating off his body. You shiver at it, craving his warmth.
“Cold, baby?” He asks, taking your hand in his and guiding you to the chair. “I can warm you right up.”
You drop into the seat, eyes raking up Frankie’s body; taking in the open shirt, the light dusting of hair on his chest. His pants are unbuttoned, but still on - the zipper halfway down, looking as though he’s ready to strip them off, and oh- the thought of him naked right here in your office sends a thrill through your body, from the back of your neck down to your toes, curled tight inside your shoes as you watch him undulate just inches away.
“See, the secret to a good lap dance - when the woman is under you - is not to be too aggressive,” he purrs, a gentle thumb ghosting over your cheek. “She’s in control. She decides when we touch.” Frankie leans down, his face inches from your neck, and breathes deep.
“Damn, bonita, you smell divine,” he murmurs, and you squeeze your thighs together, eyes fixed on Frankie’s thick fingers, splayed across his own abdomen and chest.
You chase his fingers with your own, touching his bare skin and holy fuck he’s on fire.
“You weren’t kidding about warming me up,” you whisper, scooting closer and nuzzling his waist. You press your lips to his stomach, and he moans, a low, needy sound.
“Christ, woman,” he pants, and you’re close enough to feel the hot swell of him in his pants, hard and insistent against your collarbone, and you slip one hand up to cup his length.
He hisses in delight.
You whimper as you lean forward, letting Frankie’s broad, strong body support you. Your nipples, hard in your thin top, are pressing against his thighs, but you don’t care. He feels heavenly.
“Need you, Frankie,” you moan, and then you’re rucking your skirt up, and Frankie’s hauling you to your feet and kissing you, mouth crushing against yours, all pretense of a sexy little show abandoned in one heart-stopping instant.
“Tell me what you need,” Frankie pants, breaking away for a breath.
You lock your eyes with his, burning into his own midnight gaze, and shove your panties down, turning to lean over your desk.
“Fuck me, please, Frankie. I want you to fuck me,” you beg, arching up for him at just the right angle.
Then his hands - those big, broad palms - are cupping the globes of your ass and he’s pressing them apart and looking - god - staring at your most intimate place. He swipes a finger between your folds, feeling wetness there, but apparently not as much as he needs, because a moment later he spits into his hand, smearing the saliva between your legs and making you cry out at the sheer debauched shock of it.
He rubs his fingers between your legs again, satisfied that you’re soaked, and then you hear clothing rustle and the head of his cock is there and it’s pressing against those wet folds and you cry out in pleasure as he sinks in, deeper and deeper, until his hips crash into your ass.
He starts thrusting, then, and you moan with each one, whimpering desperately when he snakes a hand between your hips and the desk to reach in front of you, wet fingertips finding your clit in seconds, and then he’s working you over, and you’re grateful for the desk beneath you to hold you up because you feel like a ragdoll, pliant and molded to his body as he fucks you into oblivion.
He’s leaning over your back, kissing your neck, when he grunts a low, thready “where do you want it?” and you take a beat to understand his meaning.
Gently nudging him away, you turn and flop down into your chair, pulling his hips closer to your face and opening your mouth for him, tongue poking out in a lewd display of desire.
“Fuck, that’s my filthy girl. Where you fuckin’ been all my life, huh?” He asks, panting and sweating as he strips his cock, racing to his peak and finally spilling with a shout, ropes of his hot release landing on your tongue, dripping down your chin, and falling on your skirt.
Catching his breath, Frankie leans down to kiss you, not hesitating to plunge his tongue into your still-messy mouth, his own cum making his lips shine.
“God,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Wanna take you home, let you ride my face, bonita. “We need a nice comfy bed for that.”
You nod, your body still buzzing with unfulfilled need.
You’re not quite sure how you get there - Frankie clearly drove - but when you do, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and peeling your clothes off with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.
Far from the frenzied sex in your office - Frankie’s manner is slow, tender, and methodical; he seems to be enjoying working you up, and the delay only serves to rile you more.
“I believe you promised me a seat,” you pout, and Frankie nearly growls with delight as he all but rips your panties down, the last article of clothing on either of your bodies, and nudges your thighs up until you’re straddling his face.
“Sit, bonita, go on. Let me eat that sweet pussy.”
You sink down, and then you feel his tongue swipe up and oh- fuck- he’s going inside and plunging his tongue right where you need it, and his nose is right at the top of your opening, the ridge of it rubbing over your puffy, swollen clit as you shift and bounce, grinding against his face.
You’re soaking him, wetness spreading all over his lips and chin and cheeks, the light rasp of his unshaven face scraping perfectly over the soft, hidden skin of your inner thighs and then he speeds up, fingers working your clit as he fucks you with his tongue and then you hit your peak, fingers clutching the headboard as you scream.
You’ve lifted off just slightly, and you feel Frankie taking big gulps of air, the breath rushing in and out between your legs, making you shiver. You dismount, wiggling down next to him and humming in sleepy delight.
“Time for a nap, bonita?” Frankie asks, and you nod drowsily, arm draped over his chest.
He kisses your forehead and the pair of you drift off, the books long forgotten.
A/N: God, I just love these two. And Meana-beana. I dunno where the strength to finish this came from - I was just minding my business eating a mandarin so… yeah. Apologies for any mistakes, it’s late lmao.
Taglist note: I’ve used my MTW taglist but if you are no longer interested, just let me know and I’ll remove you from any future fics as this is an old list, some names have changed/don’t work, and new tag requests are not added so I’m sorry for that!
Summary: Mena and Frankie have an important question for you.
Word count: just over 1.8k
Warnings: swearing, MY FAVE BESTIES BENNY + ANGEL, fluff & domesticity galore, Frankie DILF™️ Morales. It’s just fluff. Fluff everywhere. I’m soft as fuck.
Something in the back of your mind flagged certain interactions, focusing on some things said in passing or the way people just simply acted around you. It was bugging you like crazy.
It started when Frankie started acting differently.
Summary: A little liquid courage reveals some big secrets.
A/N: So I was tagged in a post with a possible prompt idea and I couldn’t let it go so here’s my little twist on it. (Prompt will be in red yall!) Thank you @kteagueand@icanbeyourjedi both for your endless support, ilysm! Likes, reblogs, any love appreciated. Enjoy!!
——-
“Has anyone seen Frankie?”
“Upstairs in Ben’s room I think. That liquor is finally starting to hit him.” Will snickers as he throws a few more beer cans into the trash bag.
Tonight was all about celebrating Benny’s huge win during his latest fight. A total underdog going in, he had crushed the competition which ultimately called for a celebration. Everyone had stopped by at various times throughout the night except one person. The only person Frankie longed to see and talk to. They all knew your work had been hectic lately and the chances of you coming out were slim, but Frankie held on to that slight glimmer of hope with every passing guest through the door.
