#benjamin miller smut

[pimosworld]

Unrequited

Pairing-Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

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

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, Frankie has a lot of apologies to hand out, lots of food references, fun game of poker and a revelation, more apologies and a proposition.

WC-5.9k

A/N- Happy Frankie Friday, our boy is still going through it a bit but that’s to be expected when you ghost your friends for three years. At least he has Benny for some comedic relief.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter II Pining

  verb

gerund or present participle: pining

suffer a mental and physical decline, especially because of a broken heart.

  You stretch your sore muscles as best you can with the human weight that is Santiago pressed against you, his arm holding you close even in sleep. You knew he was getting better and that he was starting to get over it but Frankie’s sudden appearance is causing a relapse in his behavior. 

  The mornings you got out of bed before him or took too long to tell him you were running late from work would be met with his frantic state of mind. Always afraid of being abandoned again, left without a word or goodbye. You assured him as much as you could that you would never do something like that. Months of convincing him to go to counseling was met with short words and utterings of I don’t have a problem. It wasn’t until he’d awoken to you crying and scared one night that he was yelling in his sleep that you were going to leave him that he finally caved and went. 

  Therapy helped tremendously but you can’t blame him after the harsh words that were spoken last night that he thinks you couldn’t hear. Venomous words spoken between ex lovers, hurt people hurt people. 

  So you lay here a little longer, waiting for him to stir awake so he doesn’t think you left him. You rub your legs together easing the sore ache from the previous night, trying to ignore your full bladder. 

  You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, slowly making their way down leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  “Good morning baby, how’d you sleep?” He doesn’t answer with words, just hums as he grinds his hips into you. Avoiding the question that you already know the answer to. His hand slides over your stomach, dipping lower before you gently grab his wrist pulling it to your lips as you turn to face him. “As much as I would love to do that again, I really need to pee.”

  “Why didn’t you get up?” His sleepy voice cracks a little as he dips his head to kiss your neck. Your nails scratch at his scalp as you card through his salt and pepper curls. You tug on them eliciting a groan from him as he meets your eyes. You trace your thumb along the stubble of his jaw, memorizing every line and scar that you may have missed the last time you looked at him. He’s so distractingly handsome that you almost forgot he asked you a question. One that he already knows the answer to. 

  “I wanted to wait until you were awake.” You give him a wary smile almost ashamed to admit it, not wanting him to feel bad. 

  His face drops and he wraps his arms around you, rolling you on top of him until you’re almost falling out of the bed, forced to plant your feet on the cold hardwood floor. He whistles low as you pad to the bathroom, trying not to feel flustered knowing he’s checking you out. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he always makes you feel giddy. 

  When you exit the bathroom he’s propped up on one elbow holding the blanket up so you can join him in the warm confines of your bed. He shudders as your cold hands roam up his toned chest and wrap around his neck. 

  “You can’t be getting a uti because you’re afraid to wake me up cariño.” He half mumbles into your hair. 

  You sigh deeply. “I know…I just didn’t want you to wake up and not find me there.” 

  He kisses your forehead lingering briefly before speaking. “I know you’re worried about me with Frankie being here but I promise I’m okay.” He even thinks he sounds unsure of himself as he says it. 

  “I know you’re not okay and that’s fine, you just have to remember you’re not doing this alone.” 

  You’re an enigma, he thinks. How you manage to find the good in all situations. You’re the glass half full to his half empty. He was surviving before he met you and that was fine but he can’t go back to just surviving now that he knows what it’s like to be thriving. 

  “What did I do to deserve you?” He slides his hands up your back massaging and kneading the stress out of you. 

  “Mmmm…you’ve had your fair share of things you did to deserve being taken care of.” His stomach grumbles and you both chuckle. “Speaking of that…do you want me to make breakfast?” 

  “If I ever say no to your food I want you to shoot me.” 

  ****

  Frankie didn’t want to get out of bed, the exhaustion had fully settled in and he quickly realized how long it’s been since he actually rested. Constantly trying to stay busy to keep from actually feeling something. The conversation with Santiago had gone in the complete opposite direction he had hoped but he only had himself to blame. He didn’t expect to just waltz back into his life like nothing had happened but you being here was an unexpected surprise and most certainly changed his approach. 

  He’d never slept in the guest room so it went unnoticed at how beautiful the morning sun looked peaking through the curtains. The orange Santiago had insisted on painting one accent wall compliments it perfectly. It wasn’t until they bought this house that Frankie realized how much Santi cared about interior design. He wanted to tease him about it but opted not to when he saw how relaxed he was deciding on paint colors and furniture. 

  It’s an odd feeling washing over him as the smell of butter and cinnamon infiltrates his senses. It’s been too long since he’s awoken to the smell of anything other than stale cigarettes and last night's leftovers. He’s kicking the blankets off before he can register and rummaging through his bag for a pair of sweats. He can hear some soft singing coming from the kitchen as he makes his way down the hall. The smell is getting stronger as his stomach rumbles and Santiago comes into view, leaning back in the chair at the kitchen island as he not so subtly watches you retrieve the mystery item from the oven. 

  The man was always a perv when it came to checking him out and it seems nothing has changed. He can’t really blame him as he takes in your appearance. Another one of Santiago’s shirts adorning your frame and some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen just barely covering your ass. 

  “Nice of you to join us.” Santi’s arms are crossed with a slight smirk at catching Frankie ogling you. 

  “Morning Francisco!” You’re beaming as you wipe your hands on a spare towel and begin to plate what he now sees to be biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry, I made cheddar honey biscuits, bacon and I’m about to start the eggs.” As if you couldn’t get any more perfect. 

  Santi gestures to the seat next to him and Frankie pulls out the chair, starting to feel a little less like a guest in his own home. 

  “How do you take your eggs?” 

  “Over medium” “Over medium” 

  If the tandem answer bothers you, you don’t show it as you expertly crack an egg into a bowl on the side of the stove and one into the pan. Santi adjusts next to him, seemingly a little flustered attempting to ignore his slip up. 

  “You don’t have to make-“ 

  “Don’t be a martyr over eggs.” Santi cuts him off before he can finish and you turn, giving him a stern look before whisking the mixture in the bowl. 

  “At least he doesn’t eat them scrambled like a child.” You mutter under your breath and Frankie tries to hide his smile behind his hands as Santi flips him off. 

  “I heard that chiquita.” He teases and you shrug as you plate up the rest of Frankie’s food. Retrieving the bacon from the warm oven and setting two hefty biscuits next to it. 

  Frankie stares at the plate, much like he did last night and he doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s a lie actually, he knows as he dives into the biscuit without another word. The buttery flaky crust with a hint of something sweet hits his senses and he can’t help the moan that escapes him. 

  He can see your shoulders moving as you laugh and he doesn’t even care with how good this is. Your food is a religious experience that only a chosen few should get to enjoy. As he glances over at Santi eating in silence a tinge of jealousy sparks in him that he gets to indulge in this all the time. You,this food,this life. For now Frankie has to live with the choices he made. 

  “Don’t be shy Frankie there’s plenty more.” You politely cover your mouth while you eat your breakfast and somehow finish cleaning the mess in a matter of minutes. 

  Frankie leans back in his chair rubbing his belly unashamed. Santi glances over noticing the way he looks so content and a slight gleam in his eye. “So does this guy do anything around here?” 

  Santi stands from his chair gathering both of their plates. “I provide other services.” He kisses you on the cheek as you playfully swat at him. “I also wash the dishes.” 

  “You own a dishwasher.” 

  “Frankie I don’t make the rules, I just do what the lady asks.” Of course Santiago doesn’t notice that this is the first time he’s used his name, not his government name or his call sign or the dreaded name he gets when people are mad at him but his chosen name. Frankie watches you both as you exchange subtle glances, some unspoken language between the two of you that he used to understand but it’s been too long. 

  Without words Santi is grabbing things from the fridge and setting them out on the counter for you as you retrieve some bowls from the cabinet. You’re filling a large pot with water as Santi returns to his seat at the island having fulfilled his duties of making piles of unfinished ingredients on the table. 

  “How much time do I have?” 

  “We don’t have to be at Wills until one so don’t rush cariño.” Santi says as Frankie gives him a quizzical look. “Barbecue…you’re going.” 

  Frankie tries to school the expression on his face into a neutral one as his stomach drops. He knew he needed to talk to all of them eventually, but he didn’t anticipate it being his second day back. He knows he can’t avoid the conversation forever and the sooner he rips the band aid the better. There’s too much weighing on his shoulders that he needs to get off so they can all live better lives. At least Frankie hopes after he talks to them that they are appreciative and see all he’s done to get back in their good graces. 

  “If I don’t make this pasta salad Benny will kill me.” He realizes after a moment that you’re speaking to him and he can’t wipe this dumb look off his face. 

  “Well if it’s anything like I’ve had already I can see why he’s obsessed.” You smile up at him as you chop some bell peppers with perfect precision. He’s not sure how you’ve not cut yourself as he looks from your eyes to the cutting board, but it’s almost reminiscent of how he feels when he’s flying; effortless.

  Frankie finally breaks your gaze as you turn around to pour the pasta in the boiling water. Santi’s eyes bore into him as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Santiago was never good at subtlety, especially when it came to his outward appearance. If he had to title this one it would read if you keep flirting with her I’ll smother you with a pillow. 

  ****

  The three of you are in Santi’s Jeep on the way to Will's house. You insisted after going back and forth with Frankie to the point of awkwardness that he sit in front. You hilariously and completely ended the argument when you sat in the back and shrugged your shoulders knowing Santi would riot if he was made out to be some chauffeur with you both in the back. 

  The car smells divine…you managed to make two types of salad, some cupcakes and those cookies he can’t stop thinking about. Frankie’s recently caught wondering how Santi is still in such good shape with the way you cook. He watches the way his muscles strain against the black tee shirt as he shifts gears. The way his jeans fit his thighs just right as he-

  “Something on your mind Fish?” He’s been caught this time and it certainly won’t be the last time. 

  Frankie’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. “Nothing…Just wondering how you still have a waistline when you live with Julia Child.” 

  You laugh and bite down on your lip to stop it from bubbling over in full blown hysterics. Frankie looks away but you don’t miss the way he smiles as his tongue pokes out from between his teeth. 

  Frankie stares out the window, something blooming in his stomach at the way he made you laugh again. It’s infectious and at this point he doesn’t even care…he knows full well that if he looks to his left he’ll see the second chapter of Santi’s death glare titled keep it up and I’ll crash this car. 

  ****

  It’s not a far drive to Will's house, but there was no way they were walking in the Florida heat with all this food in tow. Frankie swallows hard as Santi makes the last turn down their street. He has seen this house many times, it still sits beautifully at the end of the block nestled among two live oak trees in the front yard. The most unique house on the block and the largest backyard. He helped Benny and Will look for it so they could all be close to each other. The plan fell into place just before they left for Colombia. They closed on the house one month before leaving and for that Frankie is relieved to see all was not lost in that jungle. 

  He rubs his clammy hands along his jeans as Santi parks the car in the long driveway. He waits for a moment as you both exit the car to gather the supplies. He wants to get in the driver's seat and head home or maybe just get out and walk straight to the airport. Anything to avoid the possible rejection he faces when he walks into Wills backyard to see his best friends brothers again.

  The passenger side door is opened for him and you’re standing there expectantly with your hand out. “He said you might need some help.” 

  It feels childish and yet he needs it all the same as he takes your hand in his and steps out of the Jeep. It’s so small in his as you lace your fingers and pull him to the front door instead of the side gate to spare him a brief moment to gather his thoughts. He lets you lead as he tries not to step on your feet that need a few more strides than him as you approach the large wooden door. 

  The house is pristine and cozy on the inside as you enter. Santiago’s in the open concept kitchen putting away all the goods you made as Frankie looks around for anyone else. You squeeze his hand once before letting go to join him in the kitchen. 

  “Ben already took the pasta salad so that’s as good as gone.” Santiago says as he cracks open a beer and hands it to Frankie. Anything to take the edge off. 

  “I’m gonna go find Emma babe.” You kiss Santi on the cheek as you exit the kitchen leaving the two men alone. 

  Frankie’s eyes go wide as you shriek from the patio and Santi laughs. “Put me down Ben!” 

  Bennys voice is carried away with the sound of the music over the outside speakers. “Not a chance sweetheart.” 

  Santi nods to Frankie as he takes a huge swig of his beer. “Let’s head outside before she kills him.” 

  ****

  “Nice to finally meet you Frankie.” Will’s wife Emma is just as he pictured. Tall brunette with perfect hair and an even more perfect smile. She’s been kind enough to show him around the house and the yard as a means of distraction from the not so warm welcome he got from Will. 

  “It’s nice to meet you too.” He sounds like a kid that just got scolded for stealing as he removes his hat and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Emma’s showing him the room Benny is in. He spent what little money he had to open his own gym so they’re graciously letting him stay to save some money. Frankie feels particularly guilty about that right now but soon that will change. 

  “The office will hopefully be a nursery soon.” She turns to him offering a genuine smile. “Then we’ll have a live-in babysitter.” 

  “I’m hoping you don’t mean Benny.” Frankie chides as she throws her head back and laughs. 

  “He’s not all that bad and he could do with some practice.” Emma motions with her hands as she finishes the tour and Frankie feels like he’s having some sort of out of body experience. Walking through the home that he helped pick out so that Will could start a family. Everyone was doing exactly what they set out to do and Frankie was just…idling. 

  “Frankie?” She’s staring at him now, nearly eye to eye with him as she places her hand gently on his elbow so as not to startle him. He supposed she’s used to dealing with spooked vets by now. It’s almost like approaching a caged animal. “He’ll come around…I know he loves you, he just needs some time.” 

  Frankie’s too embarrassed to ask if she means Santi or Will so he just nods and says ‘thank you’. 

  ****

  Frankie’s on his second helping of pasta salad as he sits at a table with the guys and some of Benny's friends from the gym listening to Santi drone on about his security consulting business. Of course Santiago found a way to travel around telling other people how to do their job. 

  Frankie looks up from his plate to see Will staring daggers at him. He’s a coward to look away but he’s not ready to face that scrutiny. It’s not much better as his line of vision drifts to you and Emma laying out by the pool talking and laughing. The sun is beating down on his neck as a bead of sweat trickles down his spine. You roll to your front on the lounger and untie the strings of your top. The white bikini already left little to the imagination and now he can just barely see the soft curve of your breast as you adjust to get comfortable. 

  “They’re perfect aren’t they. ” Frankie nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Ben’s voice in his ear. 

  “What?!” 

  “Emma and Will…I saw her giving you a tour earlier.” Ben winks at him as he steals a bite from Frankie’s plate. Frankie starts to speak but Ben cuts him off and leans in closer. “I know everyone has already given you enough shit so I’m not going to. I just hope you’re here to stay.” 

  “I am.” Frankie says it a little louder than he intended and he can feel Will and Santi’s eyes on him. The mindless chatter amongst the table has continued but the four of them are waiting on a limb as Frankie realizes this is the first time he’s actually said it. “I’m making plans to stay.” 

  Santi raises his eyebrows in surprise as Will finally speaks. “You gonna find a flying gig?” 

  Frankie doesn’t really need to work but he supposes he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t find something to occupy his mind. “I don’t know yet but I’ve got some money saved until I figure it out.” He takes a sip of his beer to disguise the little white lie. 

  Ben slaps him on the back and he splutters his beer. “You can come help me at the gym.” Ben’s shadow boxing him as he tries to clear his throat. “Let’s see if this old man can still spar with the great Benjamin Miller.” His friends at the table roll their eyes along with the rest at his large ego. 

  Frankie points the butt of his empty bottle at the younger man. “Ben, I can still kick your ass.” 

  “Is that so?” 

  Frankie nods slowly. 

  “I don’t think he can climb a flight of fucking stairs.” Will's voice cuts in and the table goes silent. There’s a slight smirk on his face as Benny erupts in laughter next to him. Santi drops his head to the table as the rest of the men join in and for a fleeting moment it all feels like it used to. 

  ****

  The parties died down a bit and it’s just the guys left while you and Emma say your goodbyes. The boys are staying for poker and that will give Frankie the perfect opportunity to talk to them. He’s not sure how much longer he could hold it in. 

  “Are you sure you’ll be fine walking home?” You approach Santi and the guys around the kitchen island.

  “They’ll both survive.” Will answers for him as he finishes the dishes in the sink. 

  “Cariño please don’t wait up for me this time.” Santi says through gritted teeth as he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the cheek. Ben steps up behind him making mock kissing gestures and Will grabs him by the collar dragging him off to the garage. 

  Frankie awkwardly starts to walk away and leave you two alone when you call out to him. 

  “Francisco Morales…make sure he doesn’t gamble all his money away.” It’s said in jest as you gather your things to leave. 

  “I’ll do my best, hermosa but I make no promises.” 

  Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the slip up as you wave them goodbye and exit the front door. Heat creeps up his neck and he doesn’t even want to look Santi in the eyes. 

  “Hermosa hmmm?” Santi nods his head toward the garage door and steps beside him. “I see you still get flustered when beautiful people use your full name.” 

  Frankie follows closely behind as he breathes out through his nose. 

  This was going to be a very long night. 

  ****

  They’ve got him all wrong. 

  What started out as a fun game of poker quickly became a tense game of figuring out what Frankie’s play was. They’ve wrongly mistaken his nervous face for a poker face and everyone keeps folding. 

  Just spit it out 

  Frankie’s sitting here in Will's converted three car garage. Half of it was a shop to work on his motorcycle and whatever project his mind needed to keep him occupied. The other half is almost an exact replica of their favorite bar, all the way down to the teak wood flooring and an old school saloon type dresser with a roll top bar in front. He’s been trying to admire all the work he’s put in. The pool table and matching poker table just add to the charm. 

  You’re stalling

  “Fish, what’s your move?” Santiago’s voice is dripping with annoyance as Will stares down his cards like they’re going to change suits right in front of him. 

  He stares down at his hand and the pile of chips in front of him. He actually has a good hand this time, three of a kind and pocket aces. 

  It’s not about the money

  “All in.” He pushes his chips in the middle while Santi and Will quickly follow suit. Benny scoffs from behind the bar as he pours himself another beer having lost all his chips ages ago. 

  “You losers are gonna fall for it again?” 

  “Who are you calling a loser?” Will chides the younger man as Santi laughs behind his cards. 

  “I can read this pendejo like a book…he doesn’t have shit.” Santi says the last part playfully but the first part used to ring true. 

  Frankie lays down his cards and Will curses under his breath and throws his face down. Bennys laughing to himself over in the corner but Santiago’s grin is deepening by the second. It takes more muscles to frown, which is why he thinks Santi has such strong features. When he smiles though…it almost knocks him off his feet. 

  A trickle of sweat runs down Frankie’s back as Will raises an eyebrow at Santi. He leans back in his chair crossing his arms. “Let’s see ‘em Pope.” 

  Money,Money,Money

  Ten,Jack,Queen,King,Ace. Each flick of his wrist and the sound of the cards on the table as Santiago draws out his torture echo in the room. He leans in dramatically, dragging all the chips to sit in front of him. The sound of Benny whooping behind him and Will’s slow clap is drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he stares at the Royal Flush in the suit of hearts. Okay karma,you made your point. 

  “I went back for the money.” 

  He knew there was no right way to drop this kind of bomb on them. Judging by the silence in the room, perhaps there was a wrong way. 

  It’s so quiet you can hear the rustling of the chips settled in front of Santi falling by the wayside. 

Will locks eyes with Frankie as he leans back in his chair. The weight of what he just said hits him like a ton of bricks.

  “So we’re rich.” Ben’s voice cuts through the silence as he pours himself another drink. 

  “Ben, are you kidding me!” Will goes to stand as Santi lays a gentle hand on him urging him backwards. 

  As crass as it may sound coming out of the younger man’s mouth he couldn’t hide from it anymore. “Ya Ben, we’re rich.” 

  “Why?” Santi sounds calmer than he would’ve imagined after being silent for so long. He expected a fight from him, yelling and cursing. Frankie’s brain is doing somersaults trying to keep up with his emotions. Did he want Santi to yell? To tell him he was wrong for putting his life in danger. 

  Maybe there’s some weird fucked of part of Frankie that wants to be treated like a martyr so he can justify all the shit he’s put them through these last few years. Or maybe it’s just hard for him to realize that Santi was capable of changing for the right person. 

  “I did it for you…for us.” Frankie corrects although he’s not sure why. He could be nothing but honest in front of the men he risked his life for.

  Santi huffs a laugh as he shifts in his seat to look at Frankie. He picks up a stray chip rolling it on top of his fingers, some nervous tick he picked up during their army days. “You sure you didn’t do it for you.” There he is. 

  “What the fucks that suppposed to mean.” Frankie bites out ready for a fight. The fight he’s wanted since he landed here, back home. 

  “You’re gonna tell me that you didn’t go on some suicide mission without telling us…” He takes a moment to calm his breathing and lower his voice. “You did this so you could come back with something. To show us that you didn’t just leave everything for no reason. That you didn’t walk away from the best thing in your life because you got scared.” He tosses the chip and it lands in front of Frankie as Ben whistles low under his breath. 

  Santiago always had a way with words. He could rally the team when they were feeling down or nervous about a mission. He could convince higher ups to do things for him and make it seem like it was their idea to begin with. He could charm the pants off anyone he laid his sights to for one night or wax poetic to the love of his life. 

  He could also make his words cut like a knife. Those same words could make any bullet Frankie’s ever taken feel like a bee sting in comparison. If Frankie wanted him to see that he’s changed he was going to half to meet him more than half way. He’s wounded and hurt, absolutely incapable of seeing anything besides what he’s been through the last three years. 

  “You’re right.” Foreign words leave his lips not often spoken to the man with the ego the size of Texas. Frankie scrubs his jaw, kneading his fingers in that spot of patchy beard. “You’re right Santiago, I didn’t want to come back empty handed with nothing to show for myself. I felt like a failure after Colombia.” 

  “We all did.” Will cuts in as he slaps his hand down on the table. Loose chips falling to the floor. 

  Frankie lets out a long sigh. “I know man…I don’t mean.” Frankie underestimated how much damage he had done. Not just to Santi but to everyone. “I’m sorry. This was the only way I knew how to apologize, even if it comes off wrong I don’t regret one second of it. We all deserve this money and you know that.” He points at Will before continuing. “You can be mad at me all you want, I'm not running this time. I’m gonna stay and fix this even if it takes me the rest of my life.” 

  Santi stands abruptly, saluting Ben and squeezing Will's shoulder as he exits the garage. 

  Will slides the small notepad for scratch paper towards him, scribbling down some numbers. He clicks the pen and tosses the notepad to Frankie as he stands from the poker table. “I suppose this is my fault.” 

  Frankie tilts his head in question. 

  “I gave those coordinates to Pope.” He clicks his tongue as he rests his hands on the table next to him, eyes drawing up in mischief. “But he told me he lost them.” 

  Frankie stares down at a long list of numbers. “What’s this?”

  “My banking info.” Will looks at him then a little more tired behind the eyes than he’s ever seen. “I love you Fish, he loves you too.” Will slaps him on the back and exits the garage leaving Frankie with the younger Miller. 

  Frankie doesn’t turn around but he can picture Ben behind him. “Goodnight Ben, my favorite and only brother in the world. I love you soooo much.” He’s definitely miming with his hands. “Goodnight Will, even though you’re a pain in my ass I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

  Frankie laughs a little bit. It's short lived as a cold piece of ice hits the back of his neck running down his shirt right into the open crack of his jeans. 

  “What the fuck Ben!” Frankie turns in his seat to see him crunching on some ice. He narrowly misses another piece thrown at his head. 

  “I want my money by tomorrow.” He does his worst impression of a mobster as he leaves Frankie alone in the garage. 

  ****

  Santi sits on the curb in front of Will’s house as he hangs his head in his hands. Thankfully for him it’s a decently cool night compared to the awful humidity he’s usually subjected too. He often wonders why they all settled here instead of somewhere off the grid. It’s comforting in a sense, it feels like home. 

  It’s tearing him up inside holding onto all this anger for Frankie when he really just wants to tell him he loves him. He thought he would feel better after getting it all out, finally laying down his cards so to speak. It brewed somewhere underneath for all those years and as cathartic as it was to say it out loud it didn’t change what happened. 

  Now he’s left seemingly with everything he could possibly want and he feels numb. 

  Santi hears the front door close softly behind him as Frankie makes his way down the path. He doesn’t want to argue anymore, he just wants to let this all go and finally live a peaceful life with enough money to make sure he’ll never have to sweat again. 

  “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” He looks up to Frankie holding out his hand to help him off the curb. “Please forgive me.” His soft brown eyes look down at him. The ones he could never resist even if he tried. 

  He accepts his hand as he hoists him off the ground dusting off his jeans. “I forgave you a long time ago Fish.I had to for my own sanctity.” 

  If it’s a misstep he doesn’t correct himself. Sanity or sanctity aside, he knows hating someone for that long will eat you alive. “I would not be capable of loving her the way that I do, if I had not forgiven you.” 

  “Do you still love me?” Frankie asks, as selfish as it may be. Not entirely sure of what answer he’s expecting. 

  He’s backlit by the street lamps creating a soft halo around his brown and graying curls. Santiago has pictured them doing this walk so many times in his dreams. Moving here to start a life with him, walking home after a long day of hanging out with their brothers to head home and curl up in the soft sheets of the master bedroom. 

  “I never stopped loving you.” Frankie takes his hand then and he doesn’t pull away. “I never could even if I tried.” 

  Santi’s trying not to get choked up as he stares at their hands. Frankie grips his chin tilting it up towards him but he abruptly pulls away. 

  “I thought you said-“

  “I know what I said. I love you.” He gestures between them. “But this…can’t happen without her.” 

  Frankie’s nostrils flare as he gives him an aporetic look. 

  “Don’t give me that shit Frankie, I see the way you look at her.” 

  “Looking isn’t illegal.” His possessiveness over someone that doesn’t belong to him comes out harsher than he intended. 

  “No you’re right it’s not, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Santi spits back at him as he glances over at the house that’s no longer Will’s. “Let’s keep moving.” 

  Santi gets two steps ahead before Frankie yanks his arm back bringing him face to face. Daring him to call his bluff. 

  “Isn’t that what you’re telling me…that I can have my cake and eat it too.” His body’s pressed against his, they’re so close he can breathe his air as he practically spits fire. 

  “Yes Francisco, that’s what I’m telling you.” He gently prys Frankie’s hand from his arm putting some space between them. “But I’m not doing it behind her back.” 

Prev/Next

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#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales angst #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia x francisco morales #santiago garcia x f!reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales #santiago garcia smut #santi x reader #will “ironhead” miller #frankie morales x benjamin miller #benny miller x frankie morales #triple frontier au #pedro pascal characters #oscar isaac characters #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier fic #santiago pope garcia x reader

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Crystalline

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

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

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna is blissfully unaware of the world around her.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: Pregnancy, uuuhhhhhhhh mostly fluff and angst but not bad angst. kinda break up? pushing an shoving and shit. implied violence.

2.8k words

"Do you always trust your first initial feeling? Special knowledge holds true, bears believing I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove Like the love that had finally, finally found me Then I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you"~Crystalline, Fleetwood Mac

“Ow.”

Frankie whimpers as Will tends to his wounds, shirtless in Will’s med room. William found him in here, trying to disinfect his arm from the bites.

“It’s alright, I’m almost done.” He wrapped Francisco up in gauze, gentle hands on the shaking man. 

“Please don’t tell Ben…”

Will sighs, finishing up his job. “He doesn’t talk to me anyway. But Frank, listen.” He looked at Francisco earnestly. “Santi’s catching on. You’ve gotta be more careful.”

Francisco shook his head. “There’s no being careful. There’s no nothing. I’m not… we’re not…” He sighs. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s gonna get Ben killed.”

Although looking sympathetic, there was a soft smile on Will’s face. “That’s why I’ve always liked you, Frank. Someone’s gotta look out for him.”

“You still do, he just doesn’t know it.”

“C’mere.” Will beckoned, bringing Frankie close with his large hand entangling in his brown locks. Will hugged him, then pulled away just enough for a kiss. “You’re a good man, Francisco.”

He kissed back, but refused to compliment. “No… I’m not, I can’t stand up to Santi, I can’t have Ben the way I want I can’t protect Madonna-”

A deep kiss interrupted Frankie, Will’s broad, firm body pressing him up against the counter. “You’re protecting them both, you’re doing the right thing.” Will cupped Frankies face, towering over him. Francisco couldn’t help falling into him, submitting to his strength, his power, his dominance. Will brought his hand down, cupping Frankie’s length through his sweats and stroking him to full hardness. “You’re taking care of them, and I’m going to take care of you.”

Francisco whimpered, relaxing against the counter as he closed his eyes, sinking into Will’s presence.

“T-Thank you…”

*

“You’re improving a lot.” Santiago compliments you. He sat in his usual spot, watching you paint your latest project. You’d seen it a few nights ago, Francisco in a flower crown, smiling with his eyes closed with Pope behind him, kissing his neck. Pope was very pleased with this most recent project, coming to watch you every day. He must really be proud of you. 

Sipping his wine, he smiled at you from over his glass. This was your special time together, and you always looked forward to it. You were starting to show just a little, and you frequently caught him staring at your stomach.

“Thank you, Pope.” You giggle, adding color to the flowers in Francisco’s hair. Blue, yellow, red, white. 

Pope didn’t touch you sexually, he hadn’t since you learned you were pregnant. There was no need, he said, but he still kissed you, still held you, his hands caressing your stomach. You’d made him proud, and that’s what mattered. That’s all you’d wanted to do since you were a child.

*

“Are you going to talk to me?” Will asked his brother, but Ben didn’t turn around. He was doing target practice with his arrows. There was a limited amount of guns and Ben liked to know he could make long distance shots to protect the house if needed.

“Ben, come on. I thought we moved past this when I saved your fucking life.”

He turned around, lowering his bow. “You were protecting Madonna, not me.”

Will rolled his eyes. “She’s not here, we don’t gotta pretend.”

“I’m not? What are you talking about?”

Benny looked genuinely… confused. “You don’t remember what happened at the announcement?”

Ben scoffed, when back to shooting. “Of course I fucking do. See, this is the problem with you! You always doubt me!”

“Ben, someone tried to shoot you, one of your psycho little girlfriends because you can’t keep it in your pants even thought you’ve got 2 dicks and a pussy you’re fucking married too, but that’s not enough-”

Ben swung around again, this time pointing his arrow at Will. “Don’t fucking act like I’m stupid!”

Did Ben actually not know what happened? The lie was his idea… “Okay… okay I’m sorry.”

“Melody tried to kill Madonna because she was jealous! That’s it! Nothing else happened!”

“I didn’t say anything did…”

In a fit, Ben growled and for a moment Will wondered if he was about to get shot again, but instead Ben broke his bow and arrow over his knee. Screaming, he threw it on the ground and stomped until they were just sticks. Ben stormed off.

*

You lay on top of Francisco in your meadow, kissing on him gently, soft and sweet. His poor lip was healing finallly. Francisco stopped you when you go to unbutton his green shirt. You look down at him curiously. 

“Oh, do you not want me? I guess I’m pregnant already, I can-” You move to get off him, embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t like your body as you gained weight? Maybe he just didn’t see a reason to fuck you. Maybe he didn’t like you again…

“Stay, please.” Francisco kissed you deeply, his cock twitching in his pants. “I just… I want my shirt on, please… ”

“Oh, of course…” You pat his tummy, wondering if maybe he shared some of your insecurities. He was certainly the fluffiest of the four, but you absolutely adored the way he looked, his body was perfect to you. “I think you’re… so, so handsome, you know that, right?” you weren’t good at flirting, even this made your face grow warm, but you wanted him to know how much you loved him. 

Frankie blushes. “Thank you, but I’d rather keep the shirt on… if that’s okay…”

You kiss his sweet, pouty lower lip with a little peck, considerate of his bite. “Anything for you, my perfect husband.”

You made love in the meadow, trees and flowers and birds and bee’s, all of nature surrounding you, all of heaven and earth shining their approval.

*

Ben stumbled into Frankie’s room, loudly, making the older man just in his bed. He was asleep on his stomach, and the noise scared the absolute shit out of him

“Frankie!” He raised his hands, shouting.

“JESUS Benjamin, what the hell!” He gets out of bed, wide awake now. He was wearing a shirt, no buttons. “Are you-” Francisco turned on his light and cupped Ben’s face. “You’re drunk again? What the fuck Benjamin!”

Not in the mood for a lecture, Ben stumbled forward and gripped Francisco’s hair, yanking him forward into a bruising kiss. For a moment, Francisco melted into him. He didn’t care that his lip throbbed, or that his shoulder and arm still hurt to move. He didn’t care about what he was supposed to be doing. He just wanted Ben, his handsome, sweet, fun, goddamnhestall husband, Ben. He kissed him back.

But then he felt his cock, free of any constraint hardening, and he remembered. He’d not supposed to be fucking Ben like this anymore. 

Frankie gently nudged him back, but Ben didn’t stop, moving to kiss his neck, holding him close. 

“Benjamin, we can’t-”

“We can.” Ben sucked a hickey into his skin, spitting into his hand to stroke Francisco. “You and me, Frankie. We belong together.” Although slurring just a bit, Ben’s voice was deep, gravely with need, dark and hungry and oh-so spine tingling.

“But…” frankie protested between kisses, making no real attempted to move away as he licked into Ben’s mouth, tasting the whiskey on his tongue. “Santi… Madonna…”

Ben spat his words. “Fuck ‘em. They don’t matter, only you matte Frankie. Only you.” 

He wanted to believe that, he did… he couldn’t. “Is that why you still fuck both of them?”

“I have to, you know that-” Ben sucked on his tongue, fighting the urge to nibble at his lip, make his own mark.

“Do you ‘have to’ fuck every woman in Delta?”

Ben shoved him so hard he stumbled back, it took a second for him to realize what happened. 

Francisco blinked, then with a puff of his chest he shoved Ben back, making him fall into a side table. When Ben looked up, his blue eyes were large and wet. Frankie wanted to run to him, apologize, help him up… but he needed this to end. Ben wasn’t going to run away with him, and messing around with Benjamin, even if he was the one he wanted, was going to get Ben killed. Francisco couldn’t stand to let that happen.

“This needs to stop, Ben. I’m not doing this anymore.”

From on the floor, the 6’3 strongman man looked small, weak, vulnerable. Francisco’s heart shattered as he screamed. “GET OUT!” He took hold of his shirt in both fists and shoved him the rest of the way out the door.

Frankie locked out the other half of his heart.

*

You sigh constantly, sinking further into the water. Will just got done washing your hair, and now he was giving you a soothing milk bath, even putting flower petals in it. Knelt beside you, he had a super soft washcloth and was simply using it to run warm water over your body. He put lavender in the water, commenting that he thought had more left. Not wanting to lie you tell him the truth, that you and Rey found it you used it on Pope. You apologize for going through his things for spilling it. Will said it was totally okay.

The pregnancy had gone pretty smooth, so far no problems but you were having your usual sleep issues. You and Will developed a routine to help you sleep. Ever since he was shot, you’ve been sleeping in his bed. Now, he liked to give you a lavender bath before bedtime. He’d relax you, sometimes finger fuck you if you needed your mind cleared, then once you began nodding off he drained the water, patted you dry and then carried you to his room in a big towel. There, he dressed you in comfortable pj’s and tucked you in with him. It was nice, you felt safe, and best of all, no incubus.

“Such a pretty woman…” Will mutters, putting down the cloth to massage oils into your skin. It felt nice being pampered. 

You giggle. “Thank you.”

“Everything going good with the others?” Will always checked in on you, which you appreciated. He helped you navigate things in the house and with Pope especially. 

“Going great, thank you. Francisco seemed down there for a little but I think he’s cheered up.”

Will hummed in agreement. “I noticed that too, but you’re right, I think he’s happy now. Frankie had low moods sometimes, but he just needs a little patience and kindness when he does. And you give him that so well, thank you.” He kissed your forehead. “Such a good little wife.”

“And you’re such a good husband.” You tickle his arm, making him smile.

“Anything for my princess.”

*

Pope was gentle today.

Francisco was on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow trying to avoid tempting Pope with his mouth. 

“So fucking pretty…” He slowly thrust inside him, softening cockcovering itself in cum. He looked how Frankie looked with his cum leaking out. “Beautiful…”

Santi laid down beside Francisco, and Frankie was ashamed to say he took comfort in the touch. He wanted to hate Santi, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t hate a man he’d known his whole life, who he’d shared that life with day in, day out. They were never apart.

 “I’m so happy with you, Frank…” He kisses Frankie’s head, and Frankie can’t help but smile. He liked Santi’s kisses when he was being nice.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t a lie.

*

You squeal, dashing around the table to avoid Ben who chased after you with a cup of water in his hand. To be fair, you started the water fight, and now both of you were drenched in water, especially after he took out the kitchen spray in the sink and showered you. Ben laughed, giving chase but he slipped on a puddle, falling on his ass.

“Ben!” You gasp, laughing still as he disappears behind the table, and you run around to check on him. Big mistake.

“BOO!”

“AH!!”

Ben threw his cup of water at you, drenching you all over again. You dump your water on his head and then make a mad dash to get more. You weren’t above getting him while he’s down.

“Oh no you don’t!” Ben scrambles up, scooping you up as you scream and laugh, carrying you to the sink.

“BEEEEN!” You playfully smack at his chest, putting up a pretend fight. “What are you doing!!”

“Winning!” Benny placed you in the empty sink and turning on the faucet over your lap. 

He doesn’t see it coming when you grab the sprayer.

*

Will heard the shouting from Frankie’s room. Jesus, they were not subtle. It wasn’t until he heard the crash he knew they weren’t fucking. Getting up to investigate, he was just in time to see Ben getting his ass thrown out of Frankie’s room. Standing in the hall, he watched Ben, clearly drunk, curl up in a ball on the floor and cry.

Ben didn’t want much to do with Will, not as a brother. Although they worked well together in matters revolving around their family, their community, their woman, Ben didn’t want the closeness and friendship they used to share. Will had hoped after he was shot, Ben would throw his jealousy aside, that he would see that Will loved him and for a moment, he did. When Will was shot, Ben stayed at his side, crying even though the shooter was still at large. He risked his life for him, even with Frankie screaming and pulling at him. Ben helped patch him up, not trusting Iris.

Now Ben was back to Ben, a sad, alcoholic slut.

Will knelt by his sobbing brother’s side, pulling him into his strong arms. Will loved Frankie, but right now Frankie wasn’t his husband. He was the man that broke his baby brother's heart.

“It’s gonna be okay, Benny. It’s gonna be okay.”

*

You sat on the counter, watching with joy as Reyansh poked at Iris, wrapping his arms around her and swaying. He’d been trying to cheer her up after she’d hovered over him and his black eye. Reyansh said it was standard sparring training for the guards and someone got a good shot in, and Jonah confirmed this, but Iris still fussed over him.

“C’mooooon, smile. Baby.”

“No, I’m grumpy.” But a smile was slipping. 

Jonah appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Sing to her, that’s a guarantee.”

“Oooohohoho no you don’t!” Iris poked at his chest. “That’s cheating!” Iris was a sucker for Rey’s singing.

It was too late. “Love’n you, is it the riiiigh thing to dooooo”

“Reeeeeey”

He turned her around to face him, and she was already smiling. “How can I, ever change things that I feeeeeeeel!”

She giggled as Rey spun her around. “You know this is my favorite! It’s not fair.”

“If I could, baby I’d give you my world!”

Jonah approached you. Things had still been awkward, but the way Jonah protected you at the shooting made you know for sure that he still cared about you. He held out a hand.

Rey took Iris’s hands, doing the twist with her. You liked how Iris’s curls moved around. She was always pretty, but god, when she smiled. You saw why Rey loved her.

“HOW CAN I WHEN YOU WON”T TAKE IT FROM MEEEE!”

You take Jonah’s hand and as soon as you hop down, he swings you around, paying attention to making sure you didn’t hit anything.

Jonah and Rey both sing, very loudly. “YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAAAAYYYYYY!”

Iris echo’d them “GO YOUR OWN WAAAAaaaaaayyy”

Jonah picked you up and spun you around, rey twirled Iris. “YOU CAN CALL IT ANOOOOOOTHER LONELY DAAYAYAYAYY”

“ANOTHER LONELY DAYYAYAYAYAY”

Reyansh took your hand, linking your arms and Jonah scooped up Iris and spun her.

“YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAYYYY”

You sang with Iris “GO YOUR OWN WAAYYY”

Rey sang the rest of the song, you all took turns dancing. You didn’t dare try to dance with Iris, but to your surprise, she took you in her arms, pulling you close and dancing with you too. She smelled like wildflowers.

*

Earlier that day…

Rey was whistling down the hall as usual. Today was a good day. It was bright and sunny out, and Iris had a surprisingly low work load. She even agreed to spend the night in his room, which, outside of the potential benefits, meant he got to hold her all night. What more could he ask for in life?

Oh! And he saw Frankie outside gardening, and maybe they shared a blunt. What about it! Yeah, he was in a great mood.

“Saha? A word?” Will’s voice called behind him. Rey rolled his eyes before turning around. Great, this guy. 

Rey out on a fake smile and turned around. “What can I do for you.”

Will was standing with his hands tucked into his pockets, a small smile on his face, but it wasn’t comforting, not like Jonah’s smile.

“Was talking to The Madonna last night, she said you helped her break into my room to get my oils?”

AAHHHHHHHHHH thank you so much for sticking with me!!! I'm so happy to have you!!!!

If you enjoy this, you may enjoy Awakening over at my main @romanarose! I have a commission to do, (IronPope!!) but then im gonna REALLY try and crack down on the last chapter. lots of bisexuality, ironpope,fishben, and the sweetest orgy you've ever read

If you're in the "I wanna fuck Jonah" club, I wrote a commission that is NON CANON with pre ROF Jonah, non-madonna reader and Marcus (david harbour), where you're fucking both of them <3 the actions arent cnon but the insights into the characters are!

Madonna and Iris. Alicia is shipping it! What do you think?

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

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#rooms on fire #Triple frontier #dark triple frontier #benjamin miller #dark benjamin miller #william miller #dark william miller #santiago garcia #dark santiago garcia #Francisco morales #dark francisco morales #frankie morales #dark frankie morales #non con #dub con #yandere #yander triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #benjamin miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #william miller x reader #bisexual santiago garcia #bisexual francisco morales #bisexual benjamin miller #bisexual william miller #FishBen #triple frontier smut #Santiago Garcia smut #Francisco Morales smut #Frankie morales

[dameronscopilot]

* = contains smut

// SERIES

I'll Be Your Bright Side* - Benny Miller is your best friend. But as time goes on, it’s becoming more and more difficult to differentiate between the rapidly blurring lines of friendship and something more—the far deeper feelings that keep you up at night.

// ONESHOTS

i'd be home with you - Leave it to Benny Miller to finally kiss you after five years of dancing around one another, only to turn tail and run, disappearing for weeks without a goddamn trace.

spinning on that dizzy edge - While there’s not a single doubt that you and Benny Miller have shared a heady, distracting mutual attraction from the day that the two of you met, the timing has just never been right.

tides & heat* - Flirting with Benny Miller every chance you get while simultaneously deflecting his advances is all fun and games until you find yourself stuck at his bar in the middle of a tropical storm.

Reflections* - You think mirrored closet doors are the perfect solution for making your small bedroom feel a bit less tiny. Benny, on the other hand, has other ideas about what exactly they’re good for.

Wrapped up in You* - You’re downright exhausted after running a marathon, so Benny does what he does best: he takes care of you.

Dealer's Choice - Another night at the casino means another night of watching Benny and Santiago fail miserably at poker.

Determined* - Once you start talking about the future, Benny takes his mission to knock you up very seriously.

All I Need* - Holidays are always difficult when Benny can’t take leave from his deployment. But this year, unbeknownst to you, he will be home for Christmas.

wanton intonation* - Benny realizes just how much the sound of his deep voice affects you one morning.

good form* - Benny’s self-control only goes so far, especially when he’s trying to teach you how to do squats.

// THREESOMES

a proposition* (Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Benny Miller) - Santiago thinks that maybe it’s time for the two of you to change things up in the bedroom. Because if he’s going to share you with anyone, it’s most certainly going to be Benjamin Miller.

A Helping Hand* (Benny Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales) - You and Benny are no good at being quiet, not even when you’re staying in Frankie’s guest room.

The Feeling’s Mutual* (Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Benny Miller) - Sometimes, maybe, the best way to tell two of your closest friends that you want to sleep with them is to accidentally watch porn together.

// HEADCANONS/DRABBLES/MISC.

▸ Autumn with Benny ▸ Confessing feelings/dating ▸ Wound care ▸ Cuddling ▸ Dad!Benny ▸ Benny's terms of endearment ▸ Kissing Benny ▸ Meeting Benny at a bar 1 & 2 ▸ Stealing Benny's clothes ▸ Cuddling on the back porch ▸ Soft Benny during your period ▸ How Benny lost his virginity

NSFW* ▸ Benny's kinks* ▸ Cuddling* ▸ Spicy thots* ▸ Jealous Benny Miller* ▸ Stained: period sex with Benny* ▸ Patience: or, Benny fails at cockwarming* ▸ Quickies with Benny* ▸ Hands to Yourself: Benny watches you masturbate* ▸ Keep the Gloves On: glove kink* ▸ Excess adrenaline* ▸ Benny + cuddle sex* ▸ Benny + shower sex* ▸ Benny + voice kink, dirty talk* ▸ Benny, blindfolded* ▸ Benny takes care of you when you're sick* ▸ Filled: creampies, baby!*

// ADDITIONAL

Benny x reader x Santiago

▸ Benny & Santi help you sleep* ▸ Benny & Santi make a bad day better* ▸ Rainy days with Benny & Santi* ▸ Consensual voyeurism with Benny & Santi* ▸ Spicy thots with Benny & Santi* ▸ Benny & Santiago distract you ▸ Comfort after a nightmare with Benny & Santi ▸ Under the Weather with Benny & Santi ▸ Intertwined: cuddling on a cold night with Benny & Santi ▸ Casual conversation* ▸ Phone sex*

Benny x reader vs. Santiago x reader

▸ Types of affection with Benny vs. Santiago ▸ No Nut November: Benny vs. Santiago* ▸ Dating Benny vs. Santiago ▸ Domesticity with Benny vs. Santiago ▸ Favorite Body Parts: Benny vs. Santiago* ▸ Stamina and Sex Drive: Benny vs. Santiago*

Benny, Santiago, Frankie, & Will

▸ Sending the boys candle shopping ▸ A night at the fair with the boys ▸ Dirty talk with the boys* ▸ The boys meet your friends ▸ The boys rescue you at the bar ▸ Party tricks with the boys ▸ Thanksgiving with the boys ▸ The boys vs. the lube snail ▸ The boys & their caffeinated weapons of choice ▸ The boys vs. Just Dance ▸ The boys vs. cursed underwear

// GIFSETS

▸ Benny + yelling ▸ Benny + smiling ▸ Benny + Santi ▸ Benny's MMA intro

// OTHER

Santiago x Benny (no reader)

focus - (Santiago Garcia x Benny Miller) In which Santiago can’t help but give in to the urge to distract Benny while he’s busy reading.

▸ Benny & Santi kissing

various spicy Benny ramblings: #benny thots

» BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #benny miller #ben miller #benjamin miller #ben miller x reader #benny miller x reader #benjamin miller x reader #benny miller smut #ben miller smut #garrett hedlund fanfiction

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 23

This chapter is dark, if you read chapter 22 you've probably guessed what's about to happen. I've put warnings for the whole fic in a separate post (linked below) but I just want to underline them for this chapter, it deals with very heavy themes and touch upon injuries, blood and SA.

Feel free to yell at me...

Warnings

Series Master List

Word count: 5.4 k

Chapter 24

You hear the commotion as you push open the mall doors, stepping out into the cool spring evening a few days after you’d had dinner at Benny and Hannah’s place. It was the end of your shift, and for once, Hannah and you were on the same schedule, finishing late after the final dinner service. The woman who ran the kitchen called you back, asking you about the beans you’d prepared for the next day, and Hannah had stepped outside to wait for you.

The dim street lights of the QZ make the streets murky but the sharp glare of a flood light mounted on a FEDRA truck lights up the scene further down the street. You can make out Hannah’s bright green scarf, standing over a small body, surrounded by FEDRA soldiers, their guns raised. As you watch, the man standing closest to her, lifts his arm and backhands her cheek, the sharp crack ringing out across the street. You inhale sharply as fear pools in your stomach, picking up your feet and running towards the scene. The impact has made Hannah stagger backwards and fall to the ground. 

At the sound of your fast footfalls approaching, the soldiers swing their rifles up at you and you stumble to a halt, arms raised. 

“She’s with me!” you call out, “We just finished our shift in the kitchen, we’ve got permits to return home after curfew!”

“Check her permit,” the man who hit Hannah barks an order at one of the soldiers, glancing over at you. As he turns his head you silently groan, he’s one of Cox’s men, one of the inner circle of officers that make sure Cox remains in power by keeping the rest of the QZ in fear. 

The soldier holds out his hand for your permit as you pull it out, he tugs it out of your hand, glances at it and shoves it back at you. 

“Permit checks out, sir,” he says, his rifle still trained at you. 

The officer grunts, looking down at Hannah. You can see how she’s holding her hand over her cheek as she gets to her knees. Turning towards the small body on the ground next to her, it’s a young boy, she reaches out and gently shakes him by the shoulder. 

“Get the fuck away from him,” the officer snarls, stepping forward and aiming a vicious kick at Hannaha’s ribs. She yelps and falls to her side as the officer grabs the boy by the arm and drags him towards the truck. 

“Fucking mouthy bitch,” he growls, shoving the boy towards one of the soldiers, “Get him shackled and in the truck.” 

He turns back to Hannah and grabs her arm too, “I’ll fucking teach you to not interfere in FEDRA business, you fucking cunt.” He pulls her up and slaps her again, Hannah cries out as her head snaps back and you take a step forward, your heart is racing and your voice cracks as you shout. . 

“Stop! Just let me take her home!” you beg, pleading with the officer who looks over at you as the soldier jabs the barrel of his gun into your chest, making you take a step back.The officer drops Hannah back to the ground and takes a few long strides towards you, his arm shooting out and grabbing your jaw before you can retreat. His thick fingers are digging painfully into your neck and he’s forcing your head back and up. 

“Shut the fuck up, fucking kitchen whore,” he growls, pushing hard on your neck, forcing you onto your tiptoes. “I’m teaching her a fucking lesson about who’s in charge here, I’m taking her to lock up, and if she behaves, I won’t leave her in the men’s barracks tonight, you know what I mean?” 

You can only whimper as he tightens his grip on your jaw, he’s leering at you, the look in his eyes turning your blood to ice, before he lets you go with a sharp push backwards. You tumble to the ground, the palms of your hands scraping across the gravel. 

“You can come pick up her tomorrow, what’s left of her,” he sniggers as he walks back to Hannah. She’s been pulled off the ground by one of the soldiers, her hands shackled behind her back, and her large, scared eyes are fixed on you as they drag her towards the truck and push her inside.The soldiers jump in after and the truck rumbles to life as you pick yourself up off the ground, wincing at the sting of your hands. You’ve got to find Benny as fast as possible. 

You don’t even stop at your own apartment when you get back to the building, taking the stairs three at a time you arrive at Hannah and Benny’s door out of breath, rapidly knocking on it.  “C’mon, Benny, wake up or get up or what the fuck else you’re doing,” you mumble as you try to calm your breathing, banging on the door again, jumping from foot to foot with nerves. The officer’s face was mean, and you fear for what he or his soldiers will do to Hannah, just out of sheer spite. You bang on the door a third time but there’s no reply and you curse loudly, spinning around and rushing down the two flights to your own apartment. 

“Frankie!” you call, slamming the front door behind you, “Frankie! They got Hannah!” 

Pope shoots up from the couch and you see Frankie step out from the kitchen, “Who’s got Hannah?” Pope asks as Frankie comes over to you, catching sight of your scraped palms, streaks of blood have collected in the lacerations left by the gravel.   

“One of Cox’s officers, I don’t know his name,” you say, letting Frankie grab your wrists and inspect your hands. “I came out of the mall a few minutes after her and there was a FEDRA truck and a bunch of soldiers around her and a small kid already. The officer hit her and fucking kicked her when she was down!” your voice rises as you remember the vicious kick he’d given Hannah.”They shackled them both and took them to lock up, he…fuck, Frankie!” you snap as he picks a sharp piece of gravel from your hand. 

“I’ve got to clean your hands, cariño, come here, keep telling us what happened. How did you hurt your hands?” He leads you into the kitchen, turning on the kitchen tap and making you sit on the counter. 

“The officer, he grabbed my jaw and then shoved me to the ground  when I tried get them to let me take Hannah home, he fucking threatned to let his men rape her!” you spit out, the fear you felt running home making room for anger as it sinks in what kind of trouble Hannah might be in. “We’ve got to find Benny, he has to go down there and get her out. He, that officer, told me I could ‘pick up what’s left of her’ tomorrow.” 

“Benny’s away tonight, he was called out on assignment this afternoon,” Pope says, handing Frankie the first aid kit. “Do you have any idea why they targeted her?” 

“I didn’t see what happened, but the officer said something about her interfering in FEDRA business, and there was a young boy on the ground when I came out.” 

“Fuck…” Pope sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Hannah probably tried to stop them grabbing the kid if he was out after curfew.”

“We’ve got to get her out of there,” you wince as Frankie dabs your hand with alcohol and he nods. 

“Yeah, but I don’t see how. We have to wait until tomorrow morning when the curfew lifts.” 

“No, we can’t!” you interrupt, “You didn’t see this guy, he was vicious, he’s gonna make sure she gets beaten up, or worse! We’ve got to get her out of there now!”

“Cariño, if we go down there now, we’ll get taken into lock up too for being out after curfew, they’re not going to just hand her over to us.” Frankie is trying to calm you, his hands gently wiping the last of the blood from your palms and taking the gauze Pope holds out to him. Tears are starting to well up in your eyes, the adrenaline leaving your system and your hands tremble. Pope reaches out and puts his arm around your shoulder as Frankie carefully wraps your palms, the cream he applied stinging your raw cuts. When he’s done he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a hug, Pope lets his hand rest on your back, gently stroking up and down. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, there’s nothing we can do. It won’t help Hannah that we’re locked up too.” 

You nod against him, pushing your face into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with your tears. Over your head, Frankie gives Pope a worried look. 

After a night of fitful sleep, you’re woken up by the alarm, but Frankie isn’t in the bed with you, so with bleary eyes you roll over to his side and slam the Off button, silencing the shrill signal. 

“Frankie?” you call out, pushing aside the covers and pulling on your hoodie before checking the rest of the apartment. Just as you’ve realized Frankie’s not home, you hear the front door open and he comes back in. 

“I went up to check if Benny’s in yet, but he’s not. The assignment must’ve kept him out all night,” he says, “Curfew lifts in an hour, it’s still early.” 

“Fuck, I really hope she’s ok,” you say and Frankie comes over, wrapping his arms around you, his hands sliding over your back. 

“Me too,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to the top of your head, “she’s a tough one though. Will used to say she was tougher than any special ops guy he’d ever met.” 

“Will…” you sigh, “If was here he’d tear down the lock up to get to her.” 

“If you were in there, I would too.” Frankie says, “I know the sensible thing to do is to wait until curfew is lifted and we can go down there, but if they’d taken you too last night…” he sighs, “I think Pope would’ve had to knock me out to stop me from going there straight away and ripping the door off.” 

There’s a knock on the door and Frankie steps away from you, “I’ll get that, it’s probably Pope.” He opens the door and lets Santi in as you move to the kitchen and start preparing breakfast. 

“I just knocked on Benny’s door, he’s not home yet,” Pope says, shucking his shoes off. “Yeah, I went up too,” Frankie replies, “we’ve got another hour before we can go down there.” 

“Coffee, Santi?” you ask and he nods.  “Thanks, hermana.” 

“Cariño, sit down, you’re not making breakfast with your palms all ripped up,” Frankie scolds you softly, taking the coffee pot from your still bandaged hand. “I’ve got it, go take a shower and I’ll change your bandages afterwards.”

“Yes, nurse Morales,” you say, accepting his decision as he points you to the shower with a smirk.

The water is already tepid but you wash yourself off best you can and get dressed, throwing away the wet bandages. The grazes on your hands are already healing and don’t look too bad, but still too raw to leave uncovered. As you get back to the kitchen, breakfast is on the table and Frankie gently takes your hands in his and inspects your palms. With a soft touch he applies more cream and then fresh bandages, dropping a kiss on each one when he’s done. 

“Jeez, Frankie, when you patch me up you it’s like getting treated by nurse Ratched” Pope chuckles, “I want that treatment next time, and no skimping on the kisses.” 

Frankie rolls his eyes and you smile, “Thank you, sweetie, you are the best nurse, really.” 

“Yeah, regular Florence Nightingale,” Pope laughs and ducks as Frankie swipes at his head. 

“Do you want breakfast or not?” Frankie asks, raising his eyebrows and Pope holds up his hands. 

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll behave.” 

By the time you’re all done with breakfast the curfew is almost over. Pulling on your boots and jacket, you get ready to leave the minute the clock hits seven am. Just as Frankie shrugs his coat over his shoulders, there’s a knock on the door and Benny steps in, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. 

“I saw your note, Pope, I just got back. I’m going down there now.”

“We’ll come with you, we were just leaving,” Pope replies, pulling on his own jacket. 

“You saw them take her?” Benny asks you as you step into the hallway. 

“Yeah, one of Cox’s men, I don’t know his name, tall guy, face like a bulldog and kinda reddish hair?” 

“Fucking Don Myers,” Benny growls, taking the lead down the stairs, “He all but runs the show behind Cox. 

The four of you hurry across the QZ towards the old warehouse area that houses FEDRA HQ and the lock up. There’s a steady stream of people moving through the streets but they all step aside as they catch a glimpse of Benny’s scowl. His fists are nervously clenching and unclenching as you approach the guard station situated outside the main warehouse. 

“Hannah Miller,” Benny barks at the soldier on duty, “she was brought in by Myers last night on a bullshit charge, I’m here to pick her up.” The soldier flinches at Benny’s sharp tone, he’s young, barely eighteen, and he nervously looks over at Benny’s three companions, at least two of them looking very intimidating. 

“I-I need to check w-with my C.O.” he stammers, glancing behind him at the doors to the lock up.

“Then get them on the walkie-talkie and tell them to bring Hannah Miller right here or I will rip the door off her cell myself,” Benny scowls, putting his hands on his waist, his wide frame dwarfing the scrawny young soldier in front of him. 

“Y-yes, sir” the soldier stutters and scrabbles for the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. When he’s managed to radio to his C.O. and relayed Benny’s message, the C.O. goes quiet on the other end. Almost a minute passes before the walkie-talkie crackles into life again. 

“Roger, I’m coming over.” 

“H-he’s coming over,” the soldier relays unnecessarily to Benny who gives a curt nod, not moving from his position in front of the guard station. 

Several long minutes pass before the door to the warehouse is pushed open by a man wearing a FEDRA uniform with the same rank as Benny’s, carrying a clipboard, a rifle slung over his shoulder. But coming out behind him you recognise the man from last night, Don Myers. 

“Captain Miller,” Myers barks, a disingenuous smile on his face, “what brings you down here?” 

“Hannah Miller, my sister in law,” Benny scowls, “you brought her in last night on a bullshit charge, I’m here to pick her up and make sure she’s unharmed.” 

“She’s your sister in law?” For a second you see something akin to fear flash across Myers face but it’s gone just as quickly and he looks away. He studies the clipboard in the officer’s hand, “Hannah Miller, Miller…ah yes, here she is.” He looks up at Benny again and gives him a mock concerned look. “You know, she was out after curfew and- “

“We had permits!” You blurt out, “Your soldiers checked them, you know she had a permit to- “ Frankie’s hand on hour shoulder stops you and you realize you’ve taken a step towards Myers who is glaring at you. 

“She had no permit,” Myer’s smirks, he knows it doesn’t matter what you say, “And either way, she interfered with FEDRA business and disobeyed a direct order. I was only following protocol.” 

You’re seething but Frankie is squeezing your shoulder, pleading with you to stay calm.

“So she’s done a night in lock up,” Benny says, his voice barely containing his annoyance with Myers, “bring her here so I can take her home.” 

“Ah, well,” Myers straightens up and glances over at the scrawny young soldier at the guard post. “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to do that,” he looks back over at Benny, his eyes flicking to Frankie and Pope behind him. “You see, very tragically, but these things happen, she was found in her cell this morning and…and unfortunately there was nothing the medics could do.” 

You feel your heart drop into your feet and Frankie’s fingers are digging into your shoulder as you try to process what Myers is saying. Benny takes a step forward and Myers flinches but squares up instantly. 

“What are you saying, Myers?” he growls, his eyebrows furrowing over his furious eyes and you can see the other man swallow as the officer adjusts his grip on the rifle hanging over his shoulder. 

“I’m afraid Hannah Miller very tragically passed away in the night.” He clears his throat as Benny stares him down, his jaw twitching, “It seems she slipped and fell, hitting her head on the cot in the cell. You have my deepest condolences.” Fear flashes across Myers' features again as Benny’s hands close into tight fists, on your left you can hear a low growl from Pope, like a warning from a bear. 

Myers’ eyes darted between the three men and you, “I’m very sorry, but these things happen, we live in a dangerous world.”

“Take me to her,” Benny snarls in a low voice, his tone leaving no room for objection but Myers tries. 

“I’m afraid I-” 

“She’s out back by the loading bay,” the young soldier says, “where they gather the bodies being taken to the incinerator pit.”

Myers shoots him a vicious look but the soldier’s jaw clenches and he locks eyes with Benny, “I saw her before my shift, I’ll take you down there.” He steps away from the guard post and motions for Benny to follow him.

“If you leave your post, soldier, you’ll be discharged,” Myers’ barks but the soldier seemingly ignores him and walks away, glancing back at Benny who follows. You see Myers’ face turn into something dangerous and he turns to the officer, whispering to him before he strides back to the warehouse door. The officer remains behind and as you, Frankie and Pope follow Benny and the soldier, he trails behind

You grab hold of Frankie’s hand and glance up at him, you’re filled with fear at what you’ll find but you can’t believe Hannah is dead. He squeezes your hand but his eyes are forward, fixed on the back of Benny’s head, you follow his gaze and even from behind you can see the poorly contained rage Benny’s trembling with, his fists tight at his sides, white knuckles, and his shoulders ridgid with tension. 

As the four of you, and the soldier, put some distance between you and the officer trailing behind, the young man turns to Benny.

“I saw her when they brought her in last night,” he says in a low voice, glancing over his shoulder at the officer. “I’m sorry, but she didn’t look good, she was barely on her feet, and I- I think…” his voice trails off as Benny stalks ahead.  

Benny doesn’t say anything, his heavy boots thudding on the gravel as his long strides forces the young soldier to almost jog next to him. He leads the way around the warehouses and soon you see the all too familiar covered truck that regularly drives through the QZ with a foul smell lingering around it. The soldier lifts the flap covering the back of the truck and you want to step forward but Frankie’s hand holds you back.  “Wait, cariño,” he mumbles, “maybe you shouldn’t see this.” 

Benny is frozen at the truck, staring into it and your eyes start to sting as you watch your friend crumple, his shoulders drop forward, his hands grip the edge of the flatbed as a sob wracks his large frame. Pope is behind his shoulder and he puts his hand on it briefly, before he climbs into the truck. 

“Frankie, give me a hand,” he says, his voice thick, and Frankie lets go of you and steps up next to Benny. 

“Tell me what happened,” Benny suddenly growls, his rigid posture back, turning to the soldier, who’s still holding up the tarp. He flinches under Benny’s dark look but finds his voice. 

“L-like I said, she came in last night, they had to drag her in, she, she was beaten up. I-I thought they took her to a cell but…” he throws an anxious glance back at the officer who is still standing a little bit away. “But I didn’t see her in any of the cells when we did the rounds, I thought she was maybe in the infirmary but then…” his voice trails off again, his face pale and fearful as he looks at Benny. 

“Spit it out,” Pope snaps from the truck, “We’re not going to hurt you for telling us what you saw.” 

“I saw her in the warden's office, with Myers and a few of his soldiers. They were…” the soldier gives Pope a pained look and Pope inhales sharply through his nose. 

“They raped her,” he hisses. 

The soldier nods and looks wretched, tears starting to drip down his scrawny cheeks, “They were holding her down, sh-she was kicking, I heard her boots knock against the desk. Tha- that’s why I looked through the door.” 

You’re shaking, you can feel your knees knocking against each other, bile is rising in your throat and pain shoots through your hands where your nails are digging into your grazed palms. 

“Miller!” A commanding voice cuts through the air from behind you and you look over your shoulder, Cox is marching towards the truck, with Myers and a whole host of armed soldiers in tow. “You’ve seen the body, now you need to leave, you’re not on duty today.” 

Benny spins around at the sound of the voice, his face filled with rage as he takes a step towards Cox and opens his mouth. Frankie’s hands fly up and land on the younger man’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Not now, Benny, not now and not here,” he says in a low voice, pushing back with his palms. Pope scrambles to the edge of the flat bed and jumps down, his back to Benny, covering Frankie. You quickly step over to his side, facing Cox and Myers, but before you turn, you get a glimpse of Hannah, swollen face and dried blood, her wrist broken and bent at a wrong angle. You bite back the sob that threatens to force its way out and turn to stand next to Pope. 

“We’re taking Hannah’s body with us,” he says and Cox shakes his head. 

“You know the rules, all bodies are to be incinerated to minimize the risk of infection. 

“We know,” Pope says, there’s a hard edge to his voice you’ve never heard before, “but that doesn’t mean she needs to be taken there in the back of a FEDRA truck. We’re taking her.” 

Ignoring Cox’s grumble, Pope steps up into the truck again and kneels to lift Hannah’s body up, carefully cradling her head. The movement seems to shake Benny’s senses and he turns to Pope. 

“Give her to me, I’m carrying her,” he grits out, and Pope nods, carefully stepping to the edge of the truck and lowering her body into Benny’s arms. Another sob escapes him, his jaw biting it back as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“C’mon, Benny,” Frankie says, “let’s get her out of here.” 

You half expect Cox and Myers to try to stop you, but they seem content with letting you all go as long as you go peacefully. But in all the years you’ve known Benny, one year in the old world, six years in this new one, you’ve never seen him with such thinly contained rage, distorting his features and sharpening his blue eyes into ice. Even though he’s walking away now, he won’t let this be the end. 

The four of you walk out of the warehouse area and into the street, the young soldier looking back at his commanding officer and then following Benny. In the street, people stop and look. Death and dead bodies aren’t unusual in the QZ, but the sight of the bruised and battered dead woman in the arms of a man in FEDRA uniform, his face a mask of barely contained rage and grief, this both frightens and intrigues the onlookers. 

“What happened?” someone calls from the sidewalk as you pass and when none of you reply, the young soldier darts over and tells them. A buzz goes up among those who hear his words, angry voices. Someone hastens across the street to another group, spreading the story. You watch as the news seems to flit from person to person like fire, gasps from the onlookers as Hannah’s story is told. People start walking behind your group, you glance over your shoulder and then up at Frankie who gives your hand a squeeze. 

“This isn’t good, Fish,” Pope mumbles next to you, “it feels like we’re starting something here that might blow up.” 

Frankie looks behind him and over at the sidewalks, more people are spreading the story of Hannah’s demise, the thing that was done to her, and more and more people are falling in behind you, Benny still at the front with Hannah in his arms. It’s a long walk to the square where all bodies are burnt, but he doesn’t even seem to notice it, his arms are steady and neither Frankie nor Santi even consider offering to help him. This is his brother’s wife, and he couldn’t protect her, the least he can do is carry her to her grave. 

Will. His name jumps into your mind. You haven’t heard anything about him in almost six years, no one has heard of a William Miller that matches the tall, blonde, quiet man you remember. But Hannah never gave up, she never stopped hoping that somewhere he was still alive. And now she’s gone and even if Will is still alive and by a miracle you one day find him, one of you will have to tell him his wife died in a FEDRA lock up. A small part of you thinks that maybe, maybe, it’s better if he’s already dead, then hopefully, even though you never believed in a god and the afterlife, Hannah and Will would be together now. You press yourself closer to Frankie, tears welling up. You know that if he wasn’t here, if he’d been lost in those first few days, next to nothing would’ve made it possible for you to go on. Frankie hooks his arm around your shoulders, tucking you in close to his side, as you continue to walk behind Benny, Pope on your other side. 

The crowd behind you is growing, buzzing with the news of Hannah. People dart forward and look at her, taking in her dark bruises, the swelling of her cheeks, one eye almost obscured by the vicious cut that marks the eyebrow. And you can hear that word of what was done to her in lock up, is spreading. The word shouted over your head towards the FEDRA soldiers monitoring the burning fires in the square up ahead as the crowd behind you draws near to the entrance. You look behind you, hundreds of people coming to a standstill in the street as Benny stops in front of the soldiers, you didn’t even know there were that many people in the QZ. 

The soldiers are nervous, their rifles aren’t aimed at the crowd, not yet, but pointed slightly up to the sky, over their heads. But their fingers anxiously flit across the triggers. 

“Go home!” one of them suddenly yells at the crowd and they shout back in protest, shout the injustice that has been done to one of their own. 

“She’s my sister in law,” you hear Benny say to the soldiers, “I’ve brought her here…” his voice breaks, you can’t see his face but you suddenly realize he’s crying. Letting go of Frankie you step forward and stand next to him, your arm around his waist, behind you, you feel Frankie and Pope step forward too. 

“She’s our sister,” Pope says, “we brought her here because we didn’t want her to be taken on the back of a truck. Let us in, we want to do this ourselves.” 

The soldier he’s been addressing looks tensley behind Pope, eyeing the large crowd, still thrumming and restlessly moving in the street. 

“Not all of them,” he says finally, “only you four. Only these four can enter the square!” he yells over your heads, at the crowd and Benny looks behind him for the first time, his eyes widening as he sees all the people. 

The soldier steps aside, letting you in, and Benny faces forwards again, looking down at Hannah’s still face, the rage giving way to grief as he adjusts his grip, her head resting against his shoulder. He leads the way across the square,to the large fenced off fire in the middle. The air is thick with a cloying stench and acrid smoke, making you force back a gag as you think about what’s burning. 

There’s a table set up on one side, normally occupied by a FEDRA soldier, but as Benny approaches, she stands up and backs away. Gently he lays down Hannah’s body on the table and adjusts her limbs, stroking back the hair from her bruised check, tucking it behind her ear. 

“Find something to wrap her in,” he says and you look around, a woman is standing near the FEDRA truck. As you watch, she reaches into it and pulls out a dark green quilt. It’s darkened with soot and ripped, but it’s large enough and there’s grief in her eyes as she hands it to Benny. 

With the quilt in his hand Benny looks down at Hannah, his teeth gritted together as fat tears drip down onto the table. He cups her cheek, running his thumb over her bruised skin, gently wiping away the dried blood. He bends down and whispers something in her ear, his hand clenched on her chest and when he stands up his eyes are red. Gently you take the quilt from him and shake it out and as if they were waiting on you, Frankie and Pope step forward and lift her up so that you can spread the quilt under her. When you’re done you stroke her cheek, saying goodbye, tears trailing down your cheeks too. Benny moves her hair, stiff with dried blood, and tucks it neatly over her shoulder. With military precision, as if they were wrapping someone in the flag, the three men fold the quilt around her, her face the last part of her to be covered, and only after both Pope and Frankie have touched her face, each man giving her a silent send off. 

Benny picks up the body and turns to the fire, Frankie comes up beside you and puts his arm around your shoulder. Pope on the other side wraps his arm around your waist and Frankie grips his shoulder too, holding yourselves together as you watch Benny walk towards the fire. He stands still next to the fence for a few seconds, his head bent, and then he tosses the bundle into the flames. You let out a sob, your chest heaving, and you feel Frankie bend his head to your shoulder as Pope’s arm around you tightens. For a few minutes you all watch the flames take hold, but then Benny turns, his eyes are red from tears and smoke, but the grief has been pushed down. Instead his eyes are hard, his jaw set. He steps back towards the three of you, huddled together, holding each other up and you feel a shiver go down your back. You’ve never seen Benny like this, the rage simmering, barely contained just under the surface, is frightening but Frankie and Pope seem to know what’s coming. 

“I need to kill Myers, will you help me?”

Chapter 24

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou #frankie morales angst #benjamin miller #santiago garcia #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

[romanarose]

Triple Frontier Boys and Love Languages

Santiago Garcia x reader William Miller x reader Benjamin Miller x reader Francisco Morales x reader

Summary: A series of one shots of the TF boys. Each fic is a different love language and within each fic is 4 of the non-T*m's. Within each of the boys is two scenarios; one where the boys express their love to you, one where you express your love to your boy in question. Each scario is it's own thing, unless it expressly states a lead in. It is not a poly relationship, but you can potentially string many of them together. 8 paragraphs per fic, 40 in total. Some have smut,s ome don't. Hope you enjoy!

P.s. these are all old but I wanted to compile them into one masterlist

Love Langauges: Acts of Service

Love Languages: Physical Touch

Love Languages: Words of Affirmation

Love Languages: Quality Time

Love Languages: Gift Giving

Feel free to share other scenes, ideas, or thoughts!

#triple frontier #Benjamin miller x reader #benjamin miller #francisco morales #francisco Morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #william miller x reader #william miller #Benny miller #benny miller x read #santiago pope garcia #francisco catfish morales #Francisco catfish morales x reader #santi garcia x reader #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier boys x reader #triple frontier boys #smut #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier smut #francisco morales smut #benny miller smut #benjamin miller smut #will miller #will miller smut #william miller smut

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 9

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader Words: 5.0K Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warnings: Finally there's warnings again! Slight Angst, NSFW - respect the 18+ pls, cuteness.

So, this fic has always been close to my heart. 

I wrote this two years ago about a guy I was seeing but wanted more from. (Full disclosure, he’s no Benny Miller and luckily I didn’t have his baby.) It was a way of daydreaming the way my life could’ve gone. I never could’ve imagined you guys would embrace it the way you have and it honestly warms my heart so much that there are people out here waiting for an update. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.

A few months ago (the not-Benny) actually asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. Spoiler alert - he’s really not boyfriend material. So, much as I suspected, it didn't work out, because men aren’t written by women in real life. I’m not surprised or sad, I’m happy I know for sure but it  feels like I’ve come full circle and I think it's time I give our girl the ending I didn’t get. 

I love you all so much and words can describe how much I appreciate your support.

➢fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

Life in the past 48 hours had been… surreal. 

You had confessed your love for your baby daddy and then found out that he reciprocated those feelings all before doing the equivalent of pushing a grape out of your nostril.

A baby.

A gorgeous baby girl. 

Gorgeous didn’t quite cover it, yet finding a word that described the transcendent beauty of the soul you’d brought forth into this world escaped you, as did a name for the said beauty. 

For the time being the angel made human was currently known as TBD or more affectionately Tee. The two of you had been trying out names but a new baby and totally requited feelings didn't automatically cancel out a life-time of bickering. 

Your problem was there wasn’t a name you’d heard that actually sounded like her and Ben, god love him, had a habit of picking names from a nursing homes register; Ethel, Millicent, Edith - I could go on.

He liked old fashioned names, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though it didn’t lend itself to easy compromise. 

So, Tee, she remained with test names thrown in sporadically with hopes that a winner would stick, ideally before her 18th Birthday.  

Whilst the name vetoing annoyed the hell out of you there wasn’t any real friction. The name discussion never became heated, if a name was vetoed you moved on to the next accepting the decision of the other person. 

It was a healthy co-parenting dream. 

Despite the pending conversation that loomed over you both, things weren’t awkward - quite simply because you didn’t have the time for it to be!

Mia (Nah) didn’t leave you much time for it. 

Whilst she was a dream for sleeping, the time afforded to you both was spent sleeping or preparing the house for her awakening. She was beautiful, but exhausting - a lot like her father.

So it only made sense that when you got your first minute of peace,  after a long nap, now in your own bed and fresh pajamas; that the innermost workings of your heart would come to the surface. 

To the backing track of Modern Family, you planned and plotted your conversation word for word. Time allowed for dramatic pauses and longing gazes were of course included. When you began planning his lines you realized enough was enough and rose from your bed. 

Sure, after looking in the mirror, you’d had better days for your self confidence - ones where you weren’t rocking an adult nappy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and if you let it run in circles anymore you were afraid your brain would just combust.

There was a huge part of you that was excited after all this was years in the making, but then that small, human part of you was screaming at you to temper your expectations. 

How often does someone get everything they want? When did your life become a fairy tale? 

You didn’t think Benny would flat out turn you down, but what if he couldn’t live up to what had been in your head. 

For the first time, in a long time, you decided to ignore your brain - self preservation be damned. 

With a turn on your heel in a matching silk pajama set and a goddamn adult nappy you proudly began your descent down the stairs. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for when you rounded the corner. 

There on the sofa he lay, utterly shirtless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this, in fact you’d actively avoided his fights after you had ‘broken up’ for this very reason because one look at those rippling shoulders would’ve tanked any remaining resolve or feminism left in your body. 

It would also be remiss to add that your daughter lay on his chest for what you assume was skin-to-skin time. Somehow, it both melted your heart and stoked a fire within you - having a child was strange. Since when was being a good Father a kink for you? 

“Pssst.” You whispered under your breath, trying to get his attention without waking the bean. It took another two tries before he finally looked up confused and then fixed you with that beaming smile.

“Well… good mornin’, Mama.” His voice was deep from lack of use and he looked utterly exhausted yet his smile was as big as ever.

You couldn’t help your own grin at his words as you pressed your attack and kneeled at his side. For a moment your hand stroked at the valley of her spine, before your palm came to rest on his bare shoulder.

How the hell could two people so clueless make something so absolutely perfect?

After a moment or two spent lost in pure adoration you lifted your gaze to Ben. His eyes hadn’t left your face since he became aware of your presence. 

You couldn’t help it.

Now was the time for words not for actions that had made this hole you were currently buried in, and yet …

You let yourself get lost in those eyes and pressed your lips against his. 

It was soft. 

Softer than anything the two of you had ever known. 

Neither one of you pushed for more, you simply indulged in the closeness that had been hard won to come so easily. The hand not cradling your daughter to his chest, rose to hug your cheek as you parted. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been meaning to do it since the hospital, but the nap helped me put my ducks in a row, I guess.”

Benny rose into a sitting position, slowly, mindful of the sleeping infant on his chest. 

He laid her in the moses basket at the foot of the sofa and pressed the white noise machine. Mozart began playing softly, lulling her into a deeper sleep.

Finally, Benny turned back to you, his eyes serious. “I wasn’t sure if you regretted saying what you did… if it was the heat of the moment… y’know the fear.”

You contemplated for a single moment.

“I meant every word.”

The problem with you and Benn had always been that you both approached your relationship with one foot out the door, whoever cared the least won. It was the way you both protected yourself.

It was only now you were realizing the commitment issues had gone both ways, for a time at least. It was easier if you played with no skin in the game, there was nothing to lose. But now, you had everything to lose and you didn’t want to waste a single moment playing the stupid games you’d wasted so many years of your life devoted to.

“Every word?”

“Every. Single. One. Especially the ones about your lame singing.” You couldn’t help your grin that snuck out as you teased him. 

“Lame? I’m sorry it's that gruff, sexy singing that made your ass love me.”

“God. I wish I could take it all back, but I do Benny, I fucking love you.”

All through your back and forth he’d been advancing. It was as if your words prompted him to pounce. His hands were planted on your cheeks, as he gave you a part of himself in an all consuming kiss. 

It was like he was trying to explain all his feelings, all the hurt and frustration and love he’d felt in one kiss.

As his tongue brushed yours and his hands trailed the sides of your body to pull you against him, your hands found his shoulders as you attempted to pull him closer, as if that was even possible. 

The two of you had been at war for so long, so afraid to give eachother any part of yourself. The air was thick with emotion, your hormones were all over the place as tears began to leak from your eyes. 

Relief, joy, love - you couldn’t name one emotion entirely but it was some combination of the three. With your kisses you promised to start anew, to fix what was broken and forget all the hurt you had caused one another.  

You were going to do your best for her, for your Joy.

Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed at the waistband of his sweats, finding the warm skin of his toned stomach. That seemed to bring him back to reality as he grabbed your hands and placed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose in what you assumed was an attempt to gather his self control. 

“Angel, you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, by my reckon… for at least 6 weeks.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You breathed, dropping your kisses lower to his neck. 

 “No, baby. We’re doing this right. I’m not gonna cum in your mouth and then leave you to carry on with your day aching in both ways - at least not till you can return the favor in mine.” He kissed your forehead chastely, as if he hadn’t just promised to eat you out the second your pussy was healed. 

“Benny.” You whined.

“I don’t care Y/N. We’re doing this right, I’ve fucked this up too many times.”

“I guess 6 weeks isn’t too long… right?”

WRONG.

FOUR WEEKS-ish LATER

No closer to a name. - LIST OF REJECTED NAMES : Charlie, Charlotte, Catherine, Joy, Ruth, Charlotte, Courtney, Jennifer, Rosamund, Rosalie, Rosemary, Roselyn, Rosalind, Rose, Bella. 

5 ADULT Diapers.

64 BABY Diapers.

57 Bottles of Formula.

32 Days of Blue balls.

The newest development since the clearing of the air was that Benny had proposed dates. 

For the first time since reproducing you got dressed up (in jeans and sweater) and went and got tacos and it was… nice. 

It was just like the old days back when you were just friends, only now there was a baby at the table and he’d proudly hold your hand. 

Though, it was still Benny. So he constantly teetered on the edge of gentlemanly courtship as he caressed the meat of your thigh as the two of you sat closely in the booth; and you loved it. 

You had been on about five PG13 dates since and life was kinda perfect, your daughter was beautiful and whilst picking a name was a struggle, it was coming along. 

So it was fitting that your perfect life shattered around you on a random Saturday morning.

“Sure Jaz, I’ll meet you at 11…. Okay, see you soon.” You heard from the man currently cradling your daughter in his arms as he gave her a bottle.

God, you wished you had more faith in your shiny new relationship, that you didn’t immediately jump to anger. 

Alas, rage was an old ally and you leapt into his eagerly awaiting arms. 

Every single doubt and unfair suspicion raised to your tongue as he turned to face you. He fixed you with an easy smile, clearly none-the wiser about the eye of the storm he was currently wandering into.

“Ben... I’ve gotta’ ask. It's been weighing on me for months… but who the fuck is Jaz?”

He blanched, his eyes looking down to your daughter as if she at 4 weeks old was capable of critical thinking. It clearly wasn’t what he was expecting when it left your mouth. He looked… somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

It was then your eye caught the bottles that hadn’t been rinsed. They were abandoned on the marble, left to sour. That all but sealed his fate.

Sure, if you weren’t actively plotting his and his secret girlfriend's demise, you may not have overreacted. But in that solitary, ugly moment, that basic lack of regard he held for you and your relationship was encapsulated by his inability to complete the singular god forsaken chore that was his. 

The guy didn’t have a chance to respond before you were at the sink filling the washing up bowl with foamy water. The aroma of sour milk as you unscrewed the bottle lids only served to stoke your fires as you all but threw the stinking bottles in the water, splashing yourself with suds as you did.

“Do I have to do everything?!” 

“Y/N…”

“Sometimes, Ben…” 

“What the fuck - can we just rewind or can you explain what exactly it is you think i’ve done?!” He is incredulous as he places your daughter in her soothing swing chair, his arms now raising in surrender. 

“You need me to explain?” You huff, stoney in disbelief at his gall. 

“For god sake Y/N… leave them, I’m gonna get to them after this one.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learnt not to believe you when you say things and do the complete opposite…”

“Do the complete opposite?” You heard clear as day the anger building in his voice. “If you wanna say something, then fucking say it!”

“FINE! I’ll say it! “ You slammed the last bottle in the bowl and turned round, wiping your hands on a tea towel as you fixed your gaze on him. “I thought you were happy taking it slow, I thought you wanted to be with me. But no, Jaz. AGAIN..”

He let out a light laugh, one that held no humor. “Christ sakes, Y/N - Jaz is a client! - I’m a fuckin’ personal trainer!”

“SHE’S- Oh-”

“Yeah - Oh.” His arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes had hardened.

“I - I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To go from a soldier, to a fighter, to a glorified crossfit instructor …  just a little humiliating, Y/N.” His voice was flat and dejected as he spoke. 

At that moment, you were utterly ashamed.

“Ben… I am so -”

“Yeah. You’re sorry. But that's the thing, no matter how much I apologize or tell you how I feel about you, it's never enough. Y/N why are we even bothering when you clearly still don’t trust me.”

“Ben, I-”

“No, Y/N. It's not fair. I’ve been a good Dad and to be completely honest I’ve been a pretty stellar boyfriend, and yet all I get from you is fuckin’ accusations!” 

You hadn’t seen Benny this angry outside of the of the ring in a long fucking time. Yet you weren’t afraid of him as he came to stand before you, you knew Ben.  

“I can’t do this. Not if you’re gonna hold on to every doubt you have about me and whip them out every time I do something to piss you off, I’m not perfect Y/N.”

“I’m trying… Ben it’s not-”

“No. Listen, I told you. I told you how hard this was for me.” He stood before you, his shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I fucking poured my heart out to you, baby. I only want you and if you can’t trust that, then this isn’t going to work out and we need to stop and just be parents, because I’m not gonna live my life like this - instantly guilty for whatever shit your head dreams up for me.” 

He picked up his cap from the dining room table and bent down to place a kiss on your sleeping daughter's forehead before he swiped his hair back from his face and placed the cap on top.  Your fingers were aching from the grip you had on the counter.

“Well, I'm going to have some adulterous sex with my side piece Jasmine. Then I might swing by Flanagan’s on my way home for a threesome with an old flame. Who knows might make it a goddamn foursome!” Benny strolled out, he didn’t slam a single door. Always conscientious of the baby.

Goddamn you felt like shit.

It was hard to admit that you were wrong. 

All joking aside, you weren’t used to it. You never went into battle half cocked, which meant all arguments were mentally vetted before you championed a cause. But no matter how you sliced it, this time you were unequivocally wrong.

You had come at him with such anger. God, you should’ve just calmly asked him who Jasmine was. Why did you automatically assume the worst?

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda - Didn’t do any good now.

Simply put, you had been a dick, to a man who had been nothing short of amazing to you. 

It was as you stood frozen leaning against the counter top that you began to realize you’d never fully forgiven Ben for what happened a year ago. The toll that had taken on your self worth and your confidence.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had promised yourself when starting this back up you’d forgive everything from the past, but you supposed that was hard when he’d never really apologized. 

That was petty, you reasoned.  

You knew he was sorry. 

The two of you had jumped straight back into dating, deciding to try and have the perfect love without the deep connection which came from talking through the nitty gritty. 

How could you be so surprised when it bubbled up in these ugly ways?

Deciding to resolve these difficult thoughts with Benny when or if he returned, eased the ache within yourself a tiny bit.   

Placing the baby monitor beside your sleeping daughter you decided to prepare yourself for that conversation. 

You made it through one life affirming shower and half of your skincare routine before her wails demanded your presence. 

“Mommy’s coming baby.” You spoke through the monitor using it as a walkie talkie. It was hard not to flash back to your service days as you used it. You were half way down the stairs reminiscing on the good ole days when you weren’t a complete asshole, when you heard a male voice whispering to Tee on the monitor. 

It was instinctual; you didn’t even think, you just moved, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping only to grab a weapon or, as it is more commonly known as, a broom.  

“GET AWAY FROM HER ASSHOLE.” You wielded the broom like a hockey stick ready to swing on the assailant. As you rounded the corner and were stupefied to find Benny there with your daughter, his eyes wide as you entered the room ready to assault him.

“Y/N?!”

“BENNY. OH MY CHRIST. I thought - “ In a single moment you instantly drop the broom and grab your baby from his arms, planting kisses all over her face and head. 

“Oh my god, you scared mommy, Tee. Yes you did. My heart, oh fucking christ. I didn’t expect you back.”

“What can I say - I didn't fancy the orgy today.”

“Daddy’s very funny, Sienna.”

“Sienna… Sienna Miller?” Benny narrows his eyes over the top of his Starbucks takeout cup.  

“Veto.” You both say in unison despite your argument. 

Tee whined in your arms, amping up for a wail.

“She didn’t finish her bottle before she fell asleep earlier.” Ben pointed out to the half empty bottle waiting to be washed up. Your stomach dropped at the mere sight of the cause of your hissy fit earlier.

“Are you hungry, beautiful girl?” You crooned to your baby after a pause. Adjusting the robe you had thrown on after your shower. “I’ll feed her and then we can talk?”

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. It was strange to be stonewalled by Ben. Usually every thought that crossed his mind was mirrored on his face. 

Taking a seat in the love chair you’d set up in the lounge for this exact purpose you exposed your breast. You had been doing a half breast half formula feeding pattern so that Ben could pitch in.

She latched on quickly, but never as quickly as she did the bottle. A tiny part of you was disappointed, as you’d always had images of breastfeeding your child. But with a low milk supply you’d had little option but to supplement with bottles, but beyond the bonding aspect you had no qualms with the bottle.

Tee was slowly falling asleep as she drank and after about five minutes she was gone to the world. 

Feeling guilty all while, you held her to your chest after rearranging your robe. You should be speaking to Benny about your regrettable words earlier and yet you couldn’t force your legs to move. Telling someone you had been a complete dick wasn’t a fun thing to do.

So it made sense after about ten minutes of hiding that Benny appeared with the moses basket in toe for your sleeping angel. 

You nodded thankfully and silently you handed her off to him, making sure that your entire chest was covered. 

He placed her in the far corner of the room, far enough away that your voices - if they were kept below a shout - wouldn’t wake her.

He took a seat to your right, there was about a meter between you. It was all so stiff, like a business meeting as you each waited for the other to speak. 

“So.” He muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll start. I’m sorry Ben. You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes rose to meet yours. “I want this to work. I meant it, I want to leave it all behind and I thought I could - just forget everything, I mean. But I can’t. I think, well, I think we need to talk about it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Ben, please. I’ve thought about this for like twenty minutes in the shower.” You left your seat to sit beside him. “I know you don’t like… feelings. I don’t either, it's awkward. But, I need to get through this to get over it, y’know?” 

“I think I do.” He nodded.  You took his hand in yours. 

“I’m not making excuses, I’m sorry I lost my shit this morning. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. When I heard her name, I was right back there. Pregnant and alone and just completely unsure about everything; in love with a guy who I didn’t think felt the same. It was terrifying … And I’ve never told you that. It messed with my head everything that happened last year.”

“Right back where?... When you heard her name?”

“At the baby shower.”

“Oh Y/N, you should've asked!”

“Why? We weren’t together.”

“I started as a PT about a month after Christmas. After I found out and the hospital - It's a hell of a lot safer and the pay’s more steady. I’m still training with Will but the fights are gonna’ be … fewer. I wanna be around.” His hand clutched in yours tightened his thumb on your fingers forcing you to look up.

“You’re such a good Dad. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t” Your hand rose to his face. 

“I am so sorry. I haven’t said it have I? But I am. That night you told me you wanted more and I shut you down, I broke your heart. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I need you to hear me.”

“I do Ben, I do.”

“No, Y/N. I want you to be my wife, I want you to have more of my babies. You’re the only one for me, I think of you when I wake up, before I go to sleep - there hasn’t been a day in the past ten years I haven’t thought about you. I will never hurt you like that again, I fucking promise you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your heart began to heal, it felt so full as you sat beside him basking in his words.

“I fucking love you Benny.” You grabbed his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. It started off lighter before it began to deepen. 

Teasingly you flicked your tongue against his gaining access, biting his lip you pulled yourself onto his lap to get a better angle on your exploration of his mouth. Through his jeans you felt him begin to swell as he pressed against the linen of your robe. 

It had only been three weeks, but you were desperate for him to be inside you. Compromise was the name of the game.  

He pulled away from your mouth, which you were fine with, you knew the words about to leave his lips. Which is why you decided to be persuasive as you trailed kisses down his neck. 

“Baby, no, you’ve only just had a baby, c’mon.”

Smothering kisses against his warm skin, he smelled deliciously of the Calvin Klein aftershave he always spritzed on before leaving the house. You moved your hips against his, which prompted him to grab them. His large hands splayed across your ass, holding you still as he attempted to maintain some semblance of self control.

“You can’t go inside, but we can still have fun.” You whispered into his neck. “Besides, you’re the injured party, I have an apology to make.”

“Well…” He moaned as you playfully bit at his warm flesh “You were mean as hell, baby.”

With Benjamin's help you shrugged the linen dressing gown from your shoulders. Instantly you were completely exposed before him.  His eyes zeroed in on your swollen breasts, sure he’d seen them in passing but never so freely exposed and at eye level. 

Hands gentle as always rose to cup them. Those gorgeous fingers skirted around your nipples making your hips rut down against his hardened member. 

“Sensitive.” You explained before he placed kisses on them. He kissed along the underside of your breast before lathering his tongue around your nipples. His gaze lowered and his palms skirted along your sides before they landed on your ass. 

You couldn’t help your self consciousness, the last time this man had seen you naked you’d been a size Y/S. Now you had some fresh stretch marks and a stomach still swollen from your child. 

However, all your self consciousness went out the window the second he squeezed at the meat there and pulled you down against his jeans, his hips thrusted up in time, almost unintentionally. 

The fabric was causing some delicious friction against your clit, yet you wanted more. 

“Is this okay, you’re not in pain?” He asked resting his forehead against yours.

You kissed his lips as you held onto his jaw.

“No. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, your sweet pussy needs more time before I ruin it.” He smirked before claiming your mouth with his tongue, putting all his filthy promises behind it.

“No, but you can.” You leaned backwards and began to undo his zipper. His hands came up to stop you before he remembered your words from earlier. 

Finally, you set him free. He was bigger than you remembered, straining up against Ben’s belly. You couldn't resist as you rubbed your bare heat against him. You were sopping as his cock came away wet. 

Benny groaned, one hand squeezing the meat of your ass and the other staying firmly on your hip, just in case you tried something. You grabbed his chin, joining your mouths in a deep kiss, once more you dropped your hips, your clit bumping against the head of his cock in the most delicious way before you slid along his shaft. 

Once again he groaned, this time into your mouth which you greedily swallowed up. Playfully you bit at his lip, touching your tongue once more to his just to give him a preview of how talented it could be.  

He began to help you as he pushed his jeans further down his thighs frantically as you moved off of his lap and fell onto your knees between his legs. 

Your mouth watered as you stared at his pulsing cock, now covered in your own wetness.  You couldn’t help a smirk as his head dropped back on the couch as he tried to give you space to work. 

Slowly, playfully almost, you stroked his length and you couldn't help a small smirk as his hips thrusted into your palm.  Right where you wanted him, he was fighting a losing battle of control.

With no warning you leaned down and swiped your quick tongue along the head of his cock. If the groans had added to the flood below the belt, the broken call of your name had you practically gushing. 

Leaning forward to get a better vantage, you sneakily pressed your heel into your clit. It alleviated some of the pressure but nowhere near enough. 

All at once you took his length into your mouth, his cry was absolutely gorgeous as he grabbed at his own thigh. 

Your tongue lathered the veins that hid on the underside of his cock. It was wet and messy and he was quickly falling apart in your mouth. 

He was fighting the urge to fuck your mouth as he gripped at his thighs in solidarity, you wanted him to bruise the back of your throat with his thrusts.

You reached up and grabbed his hand, currently grabbing at his thigh and placed it into your hair. It was an open invitation, to let himself go. To stop being so polite and sorry, to go back to fucking you the way he used to.

It was an invited he RSVP’ed immediately.  His hands immediately began guiding your face up and down his cock, pushing your face down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat. 

Your gag constricted around his cock which made his head roll back in pleasure.  His hand loosened its hold on your hair, almost asking permission. 

With a roll off your eyes you dropped your head harder than he had, his cock was practically in your esophagus, but it showed him you could take it. 

“Yes, baby. Fuck - you suck cock so good.”   

Unable to help it you grinded against your heel, desperate for the sweet relief of his touch, but unable to receive it.

You noticed the pressure building as his stomach began taut as he continued fucking your face. 

Taking back control, your hands found his balls and rolled them between your fingers caused him to groan as that pressure increased.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His cry was all you needed as you as you took his entire length in your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose. His come spurted hotly down your throat as you swallowed every damn drop of it. 

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk

 @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichues @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

#benny miller fic #benny miller smut #benny miller x reader #triple froniter #triple frontier fanfiction #benjamin miller #benny miller #benny miller x you

[tightjeansjavi]

The Menu | Part 4

“splinters in his knuckles bangin’ on your door”

A/N: remember that meme I posted earlier about how this was supposed to just be a silly little smut fic? Yeahhh about that..🥴

~word count: 6.3k~

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel goes a little berserk after he doesn’t see you for almost an entire day.

Warnings: SA (not by Joel, not described in detail) implied prostitution, abuse of power/abuse by law enforcement, (FEDRA) unhealthy trauma response, degrading language, mentions of guns, threats, injures from punching a door, mentions of blood, removing splinters, dark!joel, mean!joel, protective!joel, is shit at communicating his feelings!joel, asshole!joel, FEDRA SUCKS, no smut, denial of feelings, stalking, possession, morally gray relationship to the reader, (they’re kinda toxic but it’s complicated) hurt feelings, angst, some fluff, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Joel Miller cracked under the pressure when almost an entire day went by without a lick of your presence. Cracking under the pressure was..a severe misjudgment. All rationale was thrown out the door; he had gone completely balls to the wall insane.

It started in the morning when you didn’t show up to your ‘job’ where you and Joel would spend grueling hours dumping deceased infected. Of course, everyone around him could give less of a shit about your absence. And why should they care? It was a dog eat dog world in the QZ. Every man for himself. To Joel? This was a real problem. A thorn in his side because, well, frankly? You might have meant more to him than just a vice to fill a void. Or a warm body to stick his dick in. Maybe he had reluctantly grown to care for you in his own Joel way.

So, when he found himself in line for his ration cards, his eyes zoned in on the FEDRA officer you fucked out of spite. The same one who did business at Joel’s table while Joel’s fingers fucked you to ruin. He had to start somewhere, right?

“Y’got a minute?” Joel asked casually as he shoved his ration cards into the pocket of his jeans.

“Shoot.” Benjamin, better known as Benji, what the fuck kinda name is that.

“Y’seen Angel around this mornin?’ She’s usually out here with me. Didn’t show up.”

“Nope.” Benji responded smoothly.

Joel’s brow raised as he studied the other man’s face intently. He was looking for any clues, any indication that maybe this Benji fellow had something to do with your bizarre absence.

“Right. Well, if ya see her, tell ‘er Joel’s lookin’ for her.” He shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets.

If Benji was good for anything, it was ratting QZ folks out. So, maybe he did know where you were. He had no viable reason to tell Joel shit. In fact, he was the main reason for your absence. Not only did he catch you out past curfew, but with a handful of contraband that could have easily gotten you a week in lockup. He showed you just a smidge of mercy simply for the fact that you offered him a blowjob just to keep your ass off the line, and only in lockup for one single day.

Joel had no business knowing that, of course.

“Well, well, well. Whad’we have here?” Benji stepped out from the shadows of the darkly lit alleyway as a FEDRA patrol vehicle drove by.

“One hour past curfew, Angel. That’s a deduction of cards, and a night in lockup.” He tsked.

Your face scrunched inwards, as if you had tasted something pungent and sour. “Benji? Fuck. C’mon, man. Just let me pass on through. It’ll be like I was never here.” You thought you were being fairly reasonable especially since he did a lot of business with Joel. You thought that maybe you could get yourself off the hook easily.

“Can’t do that, Angel.” He sighed.

“My name is not Angel. And yes, you can. Just pretend that you never saw me.”

“Oh.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his concealed handgun. “So, I guess buddy boy can call you Angel, but I can’t?”

For fuck sakes.

“Christ, is that what this is about? Who has the bigger dick? What, are you jealous or somethin?’” You egged him on as you reached for your own concealed gun before an unpleasant chill ran down your spine from the familiar clicking sound of the revolver.

“Jealous? Now, why would I be jealous, Angel? Ain’t you just a common street whore? You’ll let anyone stick their dick in ya if they pay well. Ah, but you got that Joel Miller wrapped around your pretty little finger. Everyone ‘round here knows he’s your guard dog. Where is he now, hm?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Look, Benji, you’re a good lookin’ guy and all that, but I fucked you out of spite. I’ll stroke your ego or whatever, but can I please just fuckin’ go home now?” You were exhausted from the grueling day. Your feet ached, your whole body felt like a bunch of pins and needles were stabbing it all at once. All you wanted was to go home, pour yourself a stiff glass, and have a smoke. Was it really too much to ask?

“Turn around. Hands against the wall. No sudden movements.” He ignored every word that left your mouth as if it meant nothing as if you truly were just a whore. For the first time in a long time, you felt dirty. Like something that was disposable. A toy that was no longer shiny and new, but dull and tattered. It made your blood boil.

“Benji—is that really necessary?” You tried to reason with him, but your attempts were fruitless.

“I said turn the fuck around and put your hands against the goddamn wall. Don’t make me ask you a third time, Angel. I ain’t have all night.” His jaw ticked impatiently.

“Okay. Okay. You don’t have to ask me again.” You reluctantly turned around with your hands above your head before placing your palms flat against the brick wall. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, slicing the skin open from the pressure as you tasted copper along your tongue when he yanked you back by the hips as if he owned them.

“That’s right. Because that Joel Miller sure turned you into an obedient little cockslut, didn’t he?” Benji chuckled deeply against the shell of your ear. His hot breath on your skin sent a wave of nausea crawling up your throat.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Benji.” You hissed through your gritted teeth as he began to forcefully pat you down. You thought about trying to escape, but decided that would have been fucking reckless to even try.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” He said rather gleefully as he pulled out a baggy of pills. The same baggy of pills that Joel gave to you the night before to deliver to a client.

“Those aren’t mine.” Well, that was dumb.

“No? Hmm. You’re not good at this whole lyin’ game, Angel. Let’s see what else we got here.” He pulled out your gun from the belt loop of your jeans along with tinfoil wrapped cigarettes; fresh ones that Joel had rolled you.

“Well, my dear, you’re lookin’ at about a week in lockup just from this alone. Unless..” he trailed off knowing exactly what you’d offer him in return.

“You’re sick, y’know that?” You scoffed under your breath. Men really did only ever think with their dicks.

“Jus’ doin’ my job, Angel. So, what’re you gonna offer me, hmm? Make it good and I’ll only throw you in there for a day. Sounds fair?”

“Right. Your job at bein’ a fuckin’ rat? I’ll give you a blowie, right here, right now. I think that seems pretty fair, don’t you?” The sooner this is over, the sooner I get to go home.

“Hm.” He pondered it for a moment, as if he really had to think hard on your offer. “Deal. But I want you to act enthusiastic this time, and take your tits out. I’m gonna paint them and your face in my come, and you’re gonna sit there and fuckin’ take it, and if you don’t?” He flipped you around swiftly, caging you against the wall as he brought the barrel of the gun right against your temple, “I’ll spray your brains out right against this fuckin’ wall.”

This wasn’t the first time you had been threatened by a man in the QZ, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the all too real gun being pressed against your forehead was alarming, and your brain went into compliance mode in an instant. Truthfully, you didn’t want to die, and certainly not in a manner such as this.

All you could think about as you slowly sank down to your knees, and as the pavement nipped at your exposed skin, was that Joel would never do something like this to you.

“Sure, you’ll be the first to know if I’ve seen her, Miller.” He nodded.

Something about Benji, and his stupid face, sent Joel’s hackles rising. But before he could even mutter a reply, Benji was walking away towards the other FEDRA officers.

Joel shook his head while he flipped through his ration cards for the day. He was doing his best to block out all the possible scenarios of your disappearance, but he failed miserably when he realized there was a high possibility that you were either dead, or infected. It happened more often than people would think.

The real start of his manhunt began after he confided in Tess in the utmost Joel fashion. He found himself pacing the length of his apartment while all she could do was watch from the entryway in the kitchen. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the countertop. Her eyes trailed after his frantic movements.

“Look, before you go thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’ reckless, did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s just in her apartment? She could have slept in—”

He cut her off sharply with a quick shake of his head. “Sleepin’ in? Really, is that all Y’got for me, Tess? I knew she should have just fuckin’ spent the night. She’s so goddamn stubborn. I would have even slept on the couch and she could have taken the bed if it was such a big deal. She’s so hot’n cold!” He growled frustratingly. His hands moved upwards towards his head as his fingers tangled through his hair, yanking at the roots till he was feeling a splice of pain. “Or, better yet, I should have just walked her home myself!”

“Texas, you’re actin’ fuckin’ insane right now! Pacin’ the goddamn apartment like a dog. Ripping your hair out?!” Just calm the fuck down for a second. Take some deep breaths, have a smoke or somethin’ and then let’s both think rationally.” She tried to reason with him. All this got her in return was a narrowed glare, a scoff and an eye roll.

“She could be fuckin’ dead, Tess! What if somethin’ happened between her leavin’ here last night and walkin’ back to her place?”

“I highly doubt she’s dead. And if she was, we would have heard about it by now, Joel. Do you want me to help you look for her? Cause I can start askin’ around.” She pushed herself off the side of the counter just as his pacing came to a complete standstill.

“Sure, yeah. Go ahead and ask around. But, before you do that, I need ya to tell me where Angel lives. I’m aware that you know, and that she doesn’t want me to know, but you’re gonna tell me either way.” He stated as a matter of factly.

“Joel, she doesn’t want you knowing where she lives for obvious reasons. How about you stay here, and I’ll go to her apartment. Like I said, I’m sure she’s just fine.”

“Yeah? Well, those reasons are irrelevant as of right now. So, quit your little girl code you got goin’ on with her or whatever, and tell me where the fuck her apartment is.”

Tess didn’t even bother to argue. She knew Joel long enough to know that he wasn’t going to stop until he found that you were safe. Otherwise, the unknown and the ‘what ifs’ would eat him alive, literally.

“You’re fuckin’ relentless, Texas. Y’know that?” She pulled out her own personal map of the QZ before laying it out on the worn down kitchen table. She pointed to your exact apartment building. “She’s on the third floor at the very end of the hall.”

“Yep. You damn right I am, Tess. You know me too well.” He merely glanced down at the spot on the map where Tess was pointing at before he snatched up the parchment, folding it neatly and tucked it into his back pocket.

“I’ll be needing that back, Texas.” Tess reminded him.

“And I’ll be bringin’ it right back as soon as I find her.” Joel responded smoothly, dripping in confidence to mask his true nature. Just like those women he used to sleep with, he could put up a facade with just a snap of his fingers.

“Yeah, well, you’re losin’ daylight. Better go find that Angel of yours.”

“Better me than anyone else.” Joel added with a curt nod. He left the apartment in a rush, skipping a few steps down the stairs. He never handled change of any kind all that well. Especially when you had become a constant in his life while living in this shit hole place. If something had happened to you, Joel would force himself to take all the blame. He felt responsible for you in some capacity.

“Swear to god when I find this girl..” he muttered to himself, shaking his head while slipping past the front door of the apartment building. Evening was steadfast on the horizon; he needed to move fast.

Was it something I said last night?

Was it because I asked her to stay?

Was it the goddamn strap on??

Is she avoiding me on purpose?

Is she dead?

Did she fuckin’ get infected?

Did..she find someone else?

These thoughts and more were swirling through his frantic brain. He fucking hated the fear of the unknown. Absolutely despised the whole entire notion of its existence. He’d much prefer when things were yanked off like a bandaid. Quick and mostly painless.

He triple checked Tess’s map the entire trek to your apartment building. He had no time to fuck this up, and to the passerby he probably looked like a crazed man; which would be an accurate statement given the circumstances.

Your apartment building was nearly an exact replica of his own. Same shitty staircase, peeling wallpaper, the occasional cry of an infant, or scream of a child. Just the day-to-day sounds of the QZ that we’re all white noise to Joel.

When he found himself standing outside your door, he scoffed at the faded “Welcome :)” mat outside of your door beneath his boots. The smiley face had nearly rubbed off entirely, and he wondered if the mat had been there by your doing, or the previous inhabitants.

Focus, Joel.

He pressed the side of his head against the outside of the door, falling silent as he listened with his good ear for any movements on the other side.

Nothing.

“Angel? Y’in there, doll?” He asked through the thin wood.

Silence.

“Look, I’m sorry if I said somethin’ to upset you last night, but I haven’t seen you all fuckin’ day, and I’m real worried that somethin’ bad happened to ya. So, if you’re in there, can you please say something?”

Nothing.

“Okay. Okay, so maybe I do deserve the silent treatment after I made you hold my cock in your mouth like a cum bucket whore, but it was uh—out of affection? And if you’re upset that I asked ya to stay the night, then I’m sorry. It was just late and I wanted to—”

This is fucking stupid.

“Can you fuckin’ answer me, please? Just fuckin’ say something!” He growled, throwing his fists against the door once for good measure. “I’m about five seconds away from lookin’ like a complete and utter psychopath if you don’t open this goddamn door!” His frustration was on the cusp of boiling over, like a kettle on the stove.

“Okay, so we’re gonna play the silent game, huh?! I swear to god, Angel. If you’re behind this goddamn door and you’re ignoring me on purpose?! Good god, girl. You got another thing comin’ for ya!” He laughed, one of those unfriendly, chills down the spine, oh shit! I’m fucked kinda laughs.

Joel Miller had completely lost all remaining shreds of rationale.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of five to open this fuckin’ door, y’hear me?!” He snarled threateningly.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

He didn’t even get to two before his fists absolutely began to rain down on your doorframe. The cord had snapped and he was fully spiraling without giving a damn of who could see or hear him.

With adrenaline, rage, and fear pumping through his veins, he couldn’t even feel the skin along his knuckles being absolutely torn to shreds from how hard he was laying his fists into the wood.

It's like he had completely blacked out and all he could see was red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Benji was ‘generous’ enough to let you out of being in lockup early and sent you right back out onto the streets. Ridden with exhaustion, you practically dragged yourself back to your apartment with only the thought of a stiff drink and your bed bringing you some form of motivation to keep going.

Your keys jingled in your grasp while you trudged up the stairs. You were oh so close to just plopping down in the hallway, but your apartment was only just down the hall. You could make it.

You passed by one of your neighbors on your way. And when you went to wave, they completely avoided making eye contact with you at all costs. Somehow you just knew that Joel was involved in this behavior, but how the hell did he know where you lived?

Then, you heard the sounds of banshee yelling intensifying the closer you drew to your door.

Jesus fucking Christ. Can’t a girl catch a break?

When you turned the corner, you were met with a grizzly bear of a man. Joel Miller had nearly beaten your door in with just his bare fists. You weren’t even all that shocked to see him outside of your apartment, but, nonetheless, you were pissed.

You leaned against the corner of the hallway, arms crossed against your chest and a displeased, yet mildly amused look plastered on your face.

“Joel?”

He whipped around in an instant at the familiar sound of your voice. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, blood dripping down between the ridges of his knuckles, staining the already faded carpet crimson beneath his boots.

He looked crazy.

“Where in the fuck have you been? Do you know how fuckin’ worried I’ve been all goddamn day?! Huh, sweet girl? Do you have any idea—”

“You’re bleeding, sweet boy.” You mumble softly. You had hoped that you could advert his attention, but he was already stalking towards you, something indescribable flashes in his eyes when you call him, ‘sweet boy.’

“Yeah, baby.” He huffs out a raspy laugh. “I’ve got splinters in my knuckles bangin’ on your door. Tore ‘em all up.”

He’s so close now that you can taste his breath and see that flicker of fear in his eyes. His hands encaged around your face. Soft, wet from the blood, but gentle.

Droplets of blood trail down your neck and down the clavicle between your covered breasts. You shouldn’t be turned on—but that cunt of yours has a mind of her own, sometimes.

“Joel, you didn’t have to show up here like a crazy man and nearly go and break down my door.”

He glares, bloodstained thumb swiping across your lower lip. “Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t have to do, Angel. Haven’t seen you all day. Thought you were fuckin’ dead or somethin.’”

“Yeah, well, I’m not dead. I’m right here. Why the hell did you even care in the first place, huh? Can’t even go one day without losing your cool?” It’s your turn to challenge him now. You place your palms flat on his chest, giving him a firm shove.

He glared, eyes narrowing into slits. His head cocked to the side in a condescending manner. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He dropped his hands from your face only to then encage your wrists above your head. He used his sheer mass to press your back directly against the hallway wall. He loomed over you to appear more menacing, like a predator going in for the kill. “Who said anythin’ about me caring, huh? Is that why you think I’m here, Angel? Cus’ I care?” He questioned, pushing you further into the wall. His chest was pressed right against yours, leaving you no room to escape, let alone breathe.

“Why would I give a damn where my whore on stilts wandered off to? Y’think you mean anythin’ to me other than a hole to fuck? Don’t be so naive.” He scoffed.

“You have got to be the worst fuckin’ liar, Joel. Right. You don’t care. You just happened to track down where I live, proceeded to bust down my door, just because I’m a hole for you to fuck? Right. Keep on telling yourself that, buddy boy. Keep livin’ in your delusions. See how far that gets ya.” You held in your laugh from slipping past. Could he not see that you were exhausted? You had been beaten down enough as it was, you didn’t need Joel fucking Miller pushing you down further.

“That’s it? That’s all y’can say to me? No bite back? No fuck you Joel? What the hell happened to you, huh?” He pressed further, tightening his hold around your wrists. “What happened after you left my place last night, Angel?” His tone was much softer now, gentle, laced with concern.

You couldn’t keep up with his mood swings if you tried. Joel Miller was one hot and cold man.

“No. We are not about to do this again. Not when in one breath you’re a complete asshole, and the next?!” You laughed bitterly. “Joel, I’m fuckin’ exhausted, okay? I had a shit night, and I just want to go and have a stiff drink. If you want to join, then be my guest, but I won’t take another minute of your bitching. Y’got that?”

Joel found himself studying your face. He thought that maybe he could read between the lines and figure out exactly why you were so exhausted, but you weren’t budging, not even for him. What was that bit about him fucking hating the fear of the unknown? Oh, yeah.

“Angel, look..I’m—”

“Oh, fuck no. You are not about to apologize for that. No. You meant every word, Joel. You don’t get to take that back.” You shook your head in disappointment, breaking your wrists free from his gradually loosening grip before you pulled away entirely.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You didn’t even wait to see if he would follow you, you could care less if he did, or didn’t. With your keys in hand you unlocked your door, muttering about how it probably wouldn’t lock properly anymore from the damage Joel inflicted on it.

Joel’s fingers twitched at his side. He was silently debating his options. It was pointly obvious that something had happened to you, but he had no right to pry. His footsteps followed yours like a shadow.

“You should probably get your knuckles patched up.” You muttered under your breath while carelessly tossing your keys onto the kitchen counter.

“They’ll be alright. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He replied smoothly and shoved his hands into the deep caverns of the pockets on the front of his worn jeans.

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” You stated plainly. Your back was facing him behind the counter while you grabbed your stashed bottle of whiskey, and two glasses.

He was observing you with a careful eye when you turned around to face him. “Are you offering to patch up my self-inflicted wounds, baby?” He asked in a crackling rasp, like logs on a fire.

“Sure. If that’s how you want to phrase it.” You shrugged before popping the cap off the bottle with your teeth. You poured a generous splash of the amber colored liquor into both glasses. You opted to take a quick swig from the bottle, needing that little bit of relief to kick in sooner, rather than later.

“Why?” He questioned. He reached for the glass, guiding it towards him before he snatched it up in his hand. He took a hefty sip, letting the warmth from the liquor spread through his system like a warm hug.

“Are you really that fuckin’ stupid, Joel?” You wanted to laugh, but it came out more like a strained scoff if anything.

“‘Fraid so, my Angel.” He smirked over the rim of the cloudy glass.

“Guess the apocalypse shrunk men’s already pea sized brains even more.” You muttered with a shake of your head before downing the liquor from your glass in one swift gulp. Your hand wrapped around his thick wrist, and before he could protest, you were dragging him to your bathroom.

“Sit” you commanded with a gesture to the closed toilet seat.

“Look, you really don’t have to do all this, it’s justa—”

You interjected swiftly, giving him a stern glare before grabbing the first aid kit from behind the cabinet door that was barely holding on by the hinges. “Okay, so then leave, Joel.”

His brows furrowed at your response, and his lips pursed tightly. He ultimately decided to plop down on the toilet seat with a huff. “Are you going to tell me where the hell you’ve been all day? Or are you just gonna keep avoidin’ my question?”

“If you’re good, then I’ll tell you. Cause frankly, right now? I’m sick of your shit, Joel. But somehow, some way, my cold cold heart has a shred of kindness left for you.”

He scoffed, resting his head back against the peeling wallpaper. “You’re sick of my shit?”

“Yes. Because you’re a fuckin’ asshole, Joel. How many times am I going to repeat myself? Normal people don’t stalk someone, attempt to break down their door, and then demand to know where they’ve been all day!”

“Oh boy, we’re still on that topic?” He placed his bloodstained hands on his knees and shook his head before he sat back. “So, what would you rather me have done, hmm? Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he gestured with his hands, “it wasn’t like I could fuckin’ call you up! Do you see a phone in sight anywhere? No? Wow, I wonder why! It’s almost like we’re in a fuckin’ apocalypse!” He said with sarcasm dripping with every breath.

And then you threw Joel Miller for a loop when you whipped out a fucking spray bottle and sprayed his snarky ass right in the face!

It didn’t even matter where the hell you found the damn spray bottle in the first place, it was the fact that you had the balls to spray him in the face, not once, but twice when he went to open his mouth. You swore you could see the steam rising from the water droplets on his skin. Like he was an animated bull from those old animated movies. Nostrils flaring red hot flames, smoke billowing from his ears. The tea kettle had reached its boiling point.

On the opposite end of the spray bottle, you saw that very bull with steam spewing. He was flabbergasted, bewildered at your rash decision. “Did you just fuckin’ spray me like I’m a goddamn cat or somethin?!’” His voice boomed like an overhead crack of thunder unleashing its rage in a crescendo.

“I did.”

“And why the hell did you think that you could jus—go’n spray me in the face like that?!”

“You say an awful lot of stupid and hurtful shit to me, Joel Miller. You hurt my feelings, pissed me off, and I’ve just about had it. So, everytime you open that big fuckin’ mouth of yours and say somethin’ mean and stupid, I’m gonna spray you in the face with this.” You waved the spray bottle around for a moment to get your point across.

Displeased, drenched like a damn cat, Joel sent daggers your way with one harsh glare. “Oh, I didn’t realize we were throwin’ a fuckin’ pity party ontop of all of this.” He scoffed.

“Did you not—” you laughed incredulously, “hear a goddamn word I just said? Fine. Well, let me remind you what happens when you’re fuckin’ stupid!” You sprayed him again.

This time he shut up..for now.

“Refreshing.” He mumbled very much like a dog with its tail between its legs.

You set the spray bottle down along the edge of the counter where it was in arm's reach, before you sank down between his spread knees with the first aid kit tucked under your armpit. “Let me see just what kinda damage you’ve done to your beautiful hands, Joel.” Your voice was much softer now compared to moments earlier. At least now you had him tamed and compliant.

“I didn’t break ‘em. Although, if you hadn’t shown up, I probably would have. And they ain’t beautiful, Angel. They’re ugly.” He gruffed out.

“They’re beautiful to me, Joel.” You reached for his hands once they were presented in front of you. The blood had already begun to congeal and dry in some places. “Yeah, you definitely have some splinters in there that are gonna have to come out.”

“Fuck no. Just leave ‘em.” He shook his head.

For the first time in over 24 hours, you smiled. It was really just a slight tug of your lips, but it was there. “Are you afraid of tweezers or somethin?’” You mused.

He scowled at your question and picked a spot on the wall to stare at so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “No.” He grumbled, jaw ticking under the dangling bathroom light.

“You sure about that?” You asked while placing the first aid kit alongside you on the floor. You popped it open, rifling through the different aids before pulling out disinfectant spray and tweezers.

“Crystal.” He confirmed.

“Ookay.” You did your best to hide your little grin while you held the disinfectant spray a few inches above his hands. “This might sting a little.” You softly warned him.

He barely flinched when he felt the sudden coolness from the spray adhering to his open wounds. His nose did twitch the slightest when the stinging sensation settled in.

“You’re being an excellent patient for me, Mr. Miller. Maybe if you’re a good boy for the next part, I’ll reward you with a lollipop.”

He finally looked at you, tearing his gaze from the wallpaper to meet your eyes. His lips curved upwards into a small smirk. “Sounds wonderful, Doctor. Do you promise to be gentle?” He played along.

“Always, Joel.” You replied.

His eyes stayed locked on your own for what felt like hours, neither of you quite ready to break the contact just yet. He cleared his throat, shifting along the closed toilet seat. “Uh, will..you hold my hand? I lied about the tweezer thing. Splinters hurt like a bitch, and uh—yeah.” He muttered under his breath while the heat began to rise rapidly to his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned beet red.

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, Joel.” You nodded reassuringly. Your left hand reached for his own when he had pulled back slightly in a jerking movement. You could sense his palpable hesitation radiating off of him before he finally relaxed.

“This is stupid.” He said suddenly, feeling more bashful as the seconds ticked by.

“It’s not stupid at all, Joel. Splinters are no fun at all.”

I mean, This. Me and you. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be blushing like a schoolgirl right now. And over what? Holding hands? He thought to himself.

He’s kinda sweet..in his own Joel way. You thought silently to yourself.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.

“Get on with it, please.” He nearly whispered when his left hand finally reached towards your own. He was the one to thread his fingers through yours and let your entwined hands rest along his left thigh comfortably.

It took all of twenty minutes for you to successfully remove every splinter from his hands. Some fragmented pieces of wood were a bit deeper than others. He was a real champ, and you surprised him with a kiss. A soft reward that he felt he was undeserving of.

“I think you should let them breathe a bit longer and then we’ll bandage up.” You said while moving to stand back up. Your left hand was still engulfed in his own when he stopped you from standing up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss them all better, doctor?” He asked with a tilt of his head. He looked like a puppy with his tousled, wild hair, and big brown eyes staring at you.

You found your lips kissing his broken skin before you even had a chance to respond. A kiss was pressed to each knuckle in an affectionate manner.

He broke the silence when your hand departed from his and you busied yourself with putting away the first aid kit.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to you out there, or are we gonna keep dancin’ around the subject?” He asked rather softly. Almost as if he was concerned.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Joel.”

Please don’t ask me again.

“Angel..”

“Let’s go finish our drinks.” You interjected with a hidden fake smile.

His eyes follow your silhouette when you swiftly remove yourself from the small bathroom. He shakes his head with a sigh before he finally stands up. He eyes the spray bottle still resting along the bathroom counter, and in an extremely cat-like fashion, he swiftly knocks it over into the trash bin below.

Good riddance.

When Joel left your bathroom, he soon found you with your feet tucked under your thighs on the far end of the couch. You appeared to be staring off into space while you nursed your glass of whiskey in silence. He really wasn’t quite sure what to think of your behavior, let alone how he should approach you.

Nonetheless he grabbed his own glass and joined you on the couch. Your eyes stayed focused on the wall even when you felt the old cushions dip down from Joel’s weight pressing down on them gradually.

He swirled the contents around in his glass absentmindedly before he took a small sip. You could feel his eyes along the side of your head when he moved the glass to rest between his knees.

“I really wish you would jus’..talk to me, sweetheart.” He rasped softly while he twiddled with his fingers that weren’t wrapped around the glass. He was never really good at having these types of conversations, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try one last time.

You shifted uncomfortably from his words. You didn’t want to tell him what happened to you in that disgusting alley. Or the way that Benji’s touch made you feel nauseous. You didn’t want to tell Joel that you were made to feel like literal human trash. Pond scum, gum beneath men’s shoes. You didn’t want to confess that you spent a night in lockup, crying against the cold concrete till your body could no longer produce tears while Benji, and a few of his FEDRA friends proceeded to violate you further, stripping you of your autonomy and dignity with grime stained fingernails, and cruel laughter. Nothin’ but a common street whore, that one. Make her gag on it. I wanna see tears streaming down those pretty fuckin’ cheeks, boys. Miller ain’t here to save you now, Angel. You belong to us.

You didn’t want Joel to believe that you were this broken, damaged person. You didn’t want him to take pity on you. That was quite literally the last thing you wanted from him. But, you were only human, after all, and pain had a sneaky way of revealing itself even when you had done everything possible to cloak it.

He watched as you drained the contents of your glass wordlessly before you slipped down from the couch, falling to your knees between his thighs.

She loves it, don’t be fooled boys. She loves to be fucked like a dirty little whore. Ain’t that right, Angel? Joel Miller got her all obedient, just for us. She’ll do anythin’ you ask of her.

“Angel.” He started, words lodging in his throat. Something about this felt wrong.

You ignored him, reaching for his belt with trembling fingers as you worked it open.

Cus’ a whore is all you’ll ever be, sweetheart. The best pussy in all of the fuckin’ QZ. Bet he’ll smell me all over ya, Angel. I hope he does. I hope that guard dog can fuckin’ taste my come inside of ya next time he takes you.

Joel finds himself frozen in time when he sees the way your fingers tremble. He’s stunned and unsure what he should do in this situation. He’s never seen you like this before. He’s used to your brashness. Your confidence. Your swift, snarky, sarcastic remarks. The woman on her knees between his thighs is not you. He knows then that he has to stop this. He has to say something.

“Angel, baby. I don’t think we—” he struggles to find the right words to say. To be delicate, but firm. This had nothing to do with his own feelings, and had everything to do with yours. “This doesn’t feel right, sweetheart.”

Your heart sinks to the pits. He knows. He fucking knows. He knows, and thinks you to be worthless, just like the rest of them.

You sink back along your thighs, tears pooling in your eyes. “You don’t..want me anymore, Joel?” You ask above a whisper, holding on by a mangled thread.

He shakes his head slowly, his heart breaking in the process.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

I no longer have a taglist! Please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x you #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #post outbreak joel #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller tlou #joel last of us #joel miller story #joel tlou #joel fic #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #mean!joel #protective joel #dark joel miller #joel

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Happy 500! 🩵 I feel like "best friend's brother" and the Millers is something smutty just waiting to happen, maybe? 🫢

Best Friend's Brother.

y. Best Friend's Brother

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. thank you for this request!! another one for my will girlies - love you all <3

Pairing - Will Miller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 900

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You've known Benjamin Miller since you were a teenager.

He's been there through thick and thin, love and loss, good and bad.

He makes you laugh until you cry, happily watches awful movies with you, and loves to make you breakfast for dinner. He knows you like the back of his hand, and vice versa. He's the best friend you could ever ask for.

He also has the most beautiful brother in the world.

William Miller is the bane of your existence. Golden hair, big blue eyes, gleaming smile. He's aged like a fine wine, and damn have you noticed. You love Benny more than anything, and you'd never do anything to jeopardise that. But my god... it's tempting.

You're one too many tequilas down when you realise you're wobbling. You're holding onto the bar's bathroom sink for balance, attempting to keep yourself upright. You pull out your phone and call Benny, your designated taxi driver.

"Hello?"

"Benny. Baby. I am drunk! So drunk. The room is spinning, actually. Bathrooms don't spin, right?"

"Sweetheart, this is Will. Benny left his phone at my place. Where are you? You need me to come and get you?"

"Will! Hey Will. Wonderful Will. I am drunk. Very drunk."

"You may have mentioned that," he chuckles. "Where are you?"

"O'Lockes, I think. You know the place with the lights? The pretty lights?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Stay there, okay? I'm coming."

He gets to you within 20 minutes, which means he can't possibly have followed any of the speed limits. You're sat on the bench waiting outside when you see his truck pull up.

"Hey, you."

"Hi, William. Beautiful boy. God, you're the best."

"Thank you," he chuckles.

He gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to help you in.

"Chivalry isn't dead, huh?" you giggle. "Such a gentleman. How are you single? Why are you single? Do you want to be? You don't have to be. Every single girl in that bar would swoon for you, William."

"Alright, this feels like 20 questions. You need help with that seat belt?"

Will reaches over and buckles you in. His face is so close to yours, you can smell his toothpaste. The tiny part of your brain that's still rational begs you not to kiss him.

He jumps into the drivers side and starts up the engine. He turns up the heat so you're warm enough, and turns the music down so it isn't too loud. You curl into the heated seat and sigh contently, sobering up pretty quickly.

By the time he's pulling into your driveway, you can't feel the tequila anymore. You're warm, you're happy, and you're madly in love with the man sitting next you. What could go wrong?

"Hey Will?" you ask when he cuts the engine.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Why are you single? I'm not trying to be nosy. Just curious."

"Curious, huh?" he drawls, smiling gently at you.

"I mean - I've never heard you talk about a girlfriend, or even going on a date. Ever since I've known you, you've been practically always single."

"Yeah. Dating isn't really my thing, I guess. Too much effort."

"Too much effort? Will, I've never heard you say anything is too much effort."

He chuckles, and you laugh along with him.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just waiting for a certain someone."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Anyone in particular?" you ask, toeing the line.

"Maybe," he mutters. "Maybe."

He leans in over the centre console and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You thread your hands into his hair and pull him closer, desperate to feel all of him. He grabs your hips and pulls you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.

You whine and the sound shoots straight to his core. He groans in response, tongue licking into your mouth. You shakily unbutton his jeans, pulling your skirt up around your waist.

"Should we go inside?" you pant breathlessly.

"Can't wait that long," he replies quickly. "Need to feel you now."

You pull him out of his underwear and lower yourself down, the both of you moaning in unison. The angle is a little awkward and you accidentally bump your head on the roof of his truck, but neither of you can find it in you to stop.

You set a steady rhythm, rising and falling with determination. Will helps you, grabbing at your hips and moving you as he pleases. You drop your forehead to rest against his, sweat mixing and breaths mingling.

"Oh, fuck," you whine.

"Yeah, baby. Keep going. You're doing so good. Don't stop, yeah?"

"Not stopping," you reply. "Never stopping."

Will moves his thumb to rub circles between your legs, causing you to breathlessly pant his name like a prayer.

"So close, Will. So close."

"Come on, honey. Give it to me. I can feel it. Yeah, that's it."

You fall over the edge with a moan, gripping at his hair. You tug a little harder than intended, but it does the trick, sending him into his own climax. He's groaning your name, and you're convinced the sound will be ingrained in your mind forever.

You're both panting, chests heaving. Then, you burst into a fit of giggles. It seems to be contagious, because Will joins you.

"What?" he asks through the laughter.

"How the fuck are we gonna tell Ben?"

#will miller smut #will miller x you #will ironhead miller #will miller #will miller fluff #will miller x reader #will miller x reader fluff #will miller x oc #will miller imagine #will miller oneshot #will miller drabble #will miller x female reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader fluff #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x oc #charlie hunnam

[sci-fi-disney-prince]

Garrett Hedlund Character Masterlist WIP

In honor of March Madness, I created this master list of Garrett Hedlund character fanfics and may update it even after March. This may not be mobile/tablet-friendly.

Note: This may not have all of the stories posted on Tumblr and/or elsewhere since I am only one person and could only find as much as I can and unfortunately get distracted by Garrett along the way. Also, these do not belong to me. These stories belong to these lovely fanfic writers credited below and to the people behind the original source material. Do keep in mind that many of these fanfics are targeted for 18 years of age and older, so reader discretion is advised.

Tagged: @the-blind-assassin-12 (the person behind March Fic Madness 2024)

Key: ❤️��🔥 = Smut(ty)/Explicit 🍬 = Fluff ❤️‍🩹 = Angst

Updated as of March 25, 2024

Special Events

@/triplefrontier-anniversary (A fanfic and art event to celebrate Triple Frontier's 5th anniversary which is run by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime that goes from March 1st-March 14th. Take out the slash to go to their page)

Masterlists

Mitch Keller x F!OC Waitress Oneshot Masterlist by @marmie-noir [Content warning: violence, sex, and 18+ content] ❤️‍🔥

TriFRambles’ Masterlist by @triframbles

Delta Landscaping Mainlist by @rhoorl ❤️‍🔥

Benny Miller Masterlist by @dameronscopilot [some 🍬, some ❤️‍🔥]

Garrett Hedlund Masterlist by @dameronscopilot 🍬❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Benjamin "Benny" Miller Masterlist by @musings-of-a-rose [Some Fluff, Some Angst, Some Smut, some all of the above]

FishBen Rec List by @thirstworldproblemss [Some fluff, some angst, some smut, some all of the above]

phoenixhalliwell Masterlist by @phoenixhalliwell [includes Triple Frontier guys x Gender Neutral!reader]

more TBA

Individual Stories

Triple Frontier

"Every Kiss Begins With A Mistletoe" by @kittyofalltrades [Santi and Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"Not So Silent Night" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Office Party Love" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader] 🍬

Sleepy Benny by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] 🍬

"I’m gonna keep you in love with me for a while" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"An Unexpected Discovery" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Benny's Favorite Librarian" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Before I Go" by @cowboystokes (deactivated) [Benny x Black!Reader (Co-Parents)]

"Drunk Poetry" by @violentdelightsandviolentends [Benny x female reader - Content warning: cursing and alcohol mention] 🍬

"I see my shot" by @writefightandflightclub [Benny x female reader - Content warnings: alcohol, mildly steamy making-out, swearing, “unrequited” feelings and implied possible public sex acts (fade to black).] ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

"I've loved you three summers now, honey, I want them all." by @bullet-prooflove [Benny x Reader]

"Disinhibition" by @busycryin [Benny x Reader - Content warning: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex] 🍬

"Slow Motion" by @miss-beep-beep [Benny x Viet!OFC - Content Warning - some cursing and kisses] 🍬❤️‍🩹

more TBA

Four Brothers

"Hopper saves a boy’s pieces, Joyce puts him back together" by @imeanwhynotbruv (Jack Mercer Stranger Things AU/crossover - TW: abuse)

"Number" by @jackmercerenthuiast (Jack Mercer x Reader - Content warning: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, suggestive language, and gang violence)

more TBA

Tron: Legacy

"Masks" by @ivorydragoness44 [Sam Flynn x Reader] ❤️‍🩹

"iii. morning kisses. waking up next to your significant other and pulling them up and capturing their lips to yours." by @solar-siren [Sam Flynn x Tron] 🍬

more TBA

Tulsa King

more TBA

More from other movies/shows/projects soon

#benny miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #jack mercer #four brothers #garrett hedlund #tron: legacy #sam flynn #tulsa king #mitch keller #four brothers fanfic #Tulsa king fanfic #marchficmadness24

[thot-of-khonshu]

Detour (Frankie Morales x f! reader)

Masterlist | Kofi

Shotgun Part 1 | Passenger Part 2

Summary: part 3 in the shotgun series. after last year's Halloween, you and Frankie decide to create your own tradition of fooling around in his truck every year

Rating: M, 18+

Content: a Halloween party, alcohol use, drug use (marijuana), car sex, dirty talk, fingering, explicit smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, benny still being dumb

A/N: Happy Halloween! I figured I'd check back in on my favorite potheads after last year's festivities.

Your heels clacked on the pavement of the driveway as you ran outside of Benny and Will Miller's house. The Florida air was still humid and sticky, and your body felt heavy and sweaty, but you had to make sure Lexi was okay.

You heard the retching sounds on the pavement from the front yard and saw her bent over in the bushes, her boyfriend Jack standing next to her rubbing her back.

"You good?" You called to her.

"Yeah, I think it's the alcohol or the sushi I had before. I'm fine." She said as she stood up.

"Maybe you're pregnant." Jack suggested.

"No, no." She said quickly, her eyes widened in wild frustration.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, getting up and laughing, swaying himself from all of the alcohol he had consumed that night.

"We don't need to have that conversation in the driveway!" She groaned, pushing him away.

You stared at them confused that this was even a conversation. The last time the two of you had talked about it you had agreed you were both still feeling too young to have kids. "Is there something the both of you need to tell me?"

"We're trying to have a baby!" Jack shouted dramatically, his arms spread out wide.

"Stop saying that!" Lexi hit him with her white cowboy hat. Out of context with her dressed up as Cowgirl Barbie and him as Metal Ken, this was a hilarious site to see.

"I'm just trying to speak it into existence, babe."

"Well, the only thing you need to be speaking into existence is getting me a water or a Pedialyte." She slurred.

"Got it!" Jack ran back into the house as fast as his drunk ass could. You walked up to Lexi, stumbling over your strappy heels, to hold back her hair as she continued to get sick.

"The Halloween curse continues. Fucking Benny and his hunch punch" She whined.

"No, the curse was broken last year, remember? You got Jack, I got Frankie. We have boyfriends now and don't have to go back into the gross cesspool that is the dating world?" You smiled, remembering how you met Frankie.

"Speaking of, where is loverboy?"

"I'm right here." A deep voice said behind you. You turned around and saw your boyfriend Frankie walking from the doorway wearing his same devil horns from the previous year. He looked over to Lexi concerned, giving you a half smile exposing his dimple as he wrapped an arm around your waist. "You okay, Lexi?"

"Yeah, yeah. Benny's hunch punch just caught up to me."

"That shit is poison. He's gonna have to get his stomach pumped one of these days." Frankie rolled his eyes.

"Benny's an idiot, but he's our idiot." You joked.

"Did somebody just say Benny?" Benny bellowed as he walked outside. He was wearing his boxing shorts and gloves alongside an elaborate face tattoo to emulate Mike Tyson.

"Yes, we were talking about how much we love and adore you, Benjamin." Lexi smiled sarcastically.

"Aw, thanks, Lex. Sorry about the hunch punch. You know how it is, sometimes it punches you right back."

"You're forgiven, just get me a water for my way out."

"On it, ma'am." Benny ran back into the house, running into Jack who was on his way out with Lexi's first water. She did a double take, as if she had remembered asking Jack to get the water in the first place, and then opened the bottle and chugged. You and Frankie exchanged grimaces.

"I think that's our sign to head home." Frankie said to you.

"You don't have to tell me twice." You loved Benny, but his parties could get a bit out of hand and you wanted nothing more than to be home and comfortable with Frankie.

"Goodnight, guys. I'll see you later." Lexi winked while giving you a hug goodbye, still stumbling. "And happy Halloween."

"Happy Halloween. Please, both of you take an Uber home." You replied. As you were walking away, Frankie's hand gravitated to your butt and gave it a playful squeeze. You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" He feigned innocence. "C'mon, let's go home, baby."

After a quick round of farewells in the Miller household, Frankie opened the door for you to his truck and closed it. You rolled the window down, lighting a joint that Frankie had rolled for the both of you earlier.

Frankie hopped into the driver's seat, putting on his worn baseball cap and tossing the devil horns in the backseat as he took the joint from your hand and lit it. You watched him intently, the streetlight illuminating the side of his face and his dimples. He handed the joint back to you and began driving.

"I was thinking..." You started.

"Don't strain yourself." He laughed, looking over at you.

“Hey!" You slapped his shoulder.

"Sorry, go on." He smirked.

"I was thinking maybe we could have a little Halloween tradition."

"What, like every Halloween I have to wear those dumbass devil horns?" He teased.

"No, asshole." You rolled your eyes, smiling. "I was thinking every Halloween, we can dress up, and have some fun and go to a party with our friends. But then we'd get high, and have a good time and...you know, other stuff."

"Other stuff?" He cocked his eyebrow at you.

"Yes. You know, what we did last year." You said quietly, you reached over to him and started carding the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Is that why you wore that dress again this year?" He grinned, knowingly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You feigned ignorance, setting back in the passenger seat and taking another hit of the joint.

"Oh yeah?" He looked over at you with dark eyes, reaching a hand over to your thigh and pushing up the dress, exposing the white lace of your thong.

"Baby, I'm trying to drive here but you're making it hard to focus." He said in a low, rumbly voice.

"So keep your eyes on the road." You said, placing his large hand in the middle of your thighs, spreading them apart. He groaned.

"Fuck, you're wet already, baby." He said, running his fingers over the damp fabric.

"I missed you all day. I was thinking about last Halloween."

"Me too. You look so fucking hot. And it's driving me crazy." He said, his thick fingers tracing over your heat.

"Frankie." You sighed.

"Yeah, baby?" He said, pressing his fingers against your clit.

"Pull over."

He did as you asked, pulling over to a random deserted parking lot and parking in the corner of the lot. He shut the truck off, and looked over at you with dark eyes, the moonlight hitting his face perfectly.

He moved the hair from your face, taking the joint from your mouth to his lips. "You want a shotgun, baby?"

"Please."

He inhaled and placed his hand back on the back of your head, pulling you in close to his mouth. You felt his soft lips on yours and opened your mouth to him. His tongue slid into your mouth and he slowly pushed the smoke out, the feeling sending shivers down your spine.

"Why don't we put this out for a bit?" He asked, kissing your jaw.

"I can't argue with that." You said.

He put the joint out and began to unbuckle his seat belt, moving his large frame across the center console.

You pulled his baseball cap off and tossed it into the driver's seat. His fingers were still teasing at your slit through the underwear, his beard scratching at the base of your neck as he left small kisses on you and moved his fingers to press circles into your clit.

"Every Halloween, huh?” He breathed, sucking on your pulse point. You moved your hips into his hand, feeling the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen.

"Yes." You whined.

"Every. Single. One." He accentuated each word with a harder kiss. "I'm gonna make you cum in this truck just like I did last year. That's our tradition."

He moved his thick fingers to breach into your cunt, curving to the spot that makes you fall apart.

"Fuck." You whispered, letting out a shaky moan.

"You wanna know a secret, sweetheart?" He growled into your ear, biting at the lobe.

"Y-yes." You said, stuttering.

"Last Halloween, when I drove you home. I went home and fucked my fist so hard, wishing I was fucking this pussy."

You moaned, his words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The sounds of his fingers fucking into you and his breathing echoed through the cab of the truck.

"God, baby. So fucking wet for me. You're dripping all over my fingers." He said, looking down and watching himself fuck into you.

"Frankie. I'm so close."

"Yeah, I know you are." He said. “And when you cum guess what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna get you on top of me and I'm gonna fuck my cock into this tight little pussy, okay? Gonna fuck my cum deep inside you, baby."

His thumb came back to play with your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers inside you. You felt his teeth biting at your neck, your breathing becoming heavier.

"Frankie, fuck I’m gonna cum."

"Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me. I want to hear you. Nobody out here but us."

You came, loudly moaning his name and grinding into his fingers, feeling him slow his motions inside you as you rode the orgasm.

"That's it. You did so good for me."

When you finished, you were still breathing heavily. Your skin was sticky and hot, but you didn't care. Frankie looked at you, his pupils blown and his mouth in a half smirk.

"Come here." He said, reaching over the console and pulling you onto his lap, the two of you sitting awkwardly and uncomfortably but neither of you caring.

He crashed his lips into yours and you began undoing his belt and jeans. You reached a hand into his pants and wrapped your hand around his length. He was hard and his cock was leaking with precum and you needed him so badly.

"Shit." He muttered under his breath. "Get on top of me, baby."

You did as he asked, moving your underwear aside and positioning yourself on top of him, your bare, slick heat grinding into him. He looked up at you with heavy eyes, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

"You're so beautiful." He said, kissing at your jawline and neck.

"Fuck me." You whined.

"Patience." He whispered, grabbing his cock and teasing your folds. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"

"Please." You begged.

He moved his tip into you, his cock stretching you full. You moved yourself further down, until he was completely buried into you and you felt him in your stomach.

You began rocking back and forth, grinding on his cock while Frankie pulled the top of your dress down to reveal your breasts. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked at it, making you grind harder.

You whimpered, running a hand through his hair and tugging. Frankie's hands grabbed onto your hips, guiding you up and down on his length.

"You feel so fucking good, baby. Like you were made to take my cock.” He slid his hands down to your ass, kneading and squeezing at you.

He looked down, watching as his cock disappeared into you. His pace became quicker and he was thrusting harder into you. You could feel yourself getting close again.

"I'm gonna cum." You panted, looking at him with a glazed-over expression. He moved one of his hands to your clit and rubbed tight circles into it, his movements becoming faster and more erratic.

”Cum with me, sweetheart. Fuck, baby I'm so close." He growled, his pace quickening and his grip tightening on you.

Your hips stuttered, and your second orgasm crashed through you. Frankie was right behind you, his thrusts slowing as he fucked his cum deep inside of you. You collapsed into his chest, your bodies sticky and sweaty, but you didn't care.

The two of you sat like that for a few moments, him still inside you. He pulled your face to his, kissing you deeply. When the kiss broke, he was looking at you with a dazed expression.

"That’s a damn good Halloween tradition.” Frankie grinned.

You giggled. "Happy Halloween, Frankie."

"Happy Halloween, sweetheart."

#pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie catfish morales

[wordywarriorwrites]

Burning Hearts

Burning Hearts | A03 | Master List | Rating: M

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie gave you up for all the right reasons, but he just can't seem to let you go...

Pairing: Frankie Morales X F! Reader, Triple Frontier AU

Warnings: Language. Smut. Mentions of violence.

It’s well past last call, but the bartender pours Frankie another without him having to ask.

He knocks it back and chases the burn with a long drag off his cigarette. The combination of nicotine and booze gives him a pleasant buzz, but his favored tried-and-true vices bring him no relief.

All the club’s patrons shuffled out about an hour ago, but the staff carries on, seemingly content to remain open just to wait on him. Frankie knows they won’t cut him off or boot him out, but the need to maintain appearances, at least in public, prompts him to reach for his wallet.

He doesn’t pay for drinks – not at this particular watering hole – so, the Benjamin he slaps down on the counter is more for the speedy service and absence of questions than anything else. He stabs out his smoke, and when he gets to his feet, the peanut gallery on the peripheral of his pity party of one simply moves off to do other things.

An armed enforcer – especially a drunk one, out after hours and clearly spoiling for a fight – would prompt most people to run for cover, but the strippers are pros, and the guards don’t flinch easily. Plus, Frankie’s part owner, which means he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and what he wants, more than anything, is to see you.

So, he gives in to the urge.

He walks by the stage, tips the lone dancer for still bothering to put on a show, and salutes both the DJ and bouncer as he exits out the back. His driver is seated behind the wheel of his always-at-the-ready Bentley, and Frankie parks his ass on the supple, buttery leather of the backseat for the journey. By the time he reaches your estate, he’s sobered up a bit, answered all the texts he’s been ignoring, and pulverized about a half-dozen mints into the grooves of his molars.

The security guys at the gate know who he is. They take pity on him, allowing his vehicle to pass and continue on up the winding driveway. As the car crests the small hill, Frankie’s eyes sweep over the acreage, taking note of the tables and chairs set up on the grass. There are also at least a dozen catering trucks and twice as many hands, all busily taking apart centerpieces, pushing overflowing bins of linens, packing away decorations, and breaking down a podium, dance floor, and sound system.  

There are other armed guards – way more than usual, in fact. Vested bodies dressed in black, with their intimidating visages dispersed in strategic places along the peripheral and in blind spots. Frankie isn’t nervous; he knows they’re on the job, and he doesn’t intend to do anything that would spur them or their semi-automatics into action.

Foregoing the bell, he uses the knocker, allowing the old, iron lionhead to wallop against the mahogany front door. Your head of security, Will Miller, answers promptly, weapon drawn and ready for action. He’s young and a bit tetchy, but he’s got sharp eyes and knows how to handle himself. Will’s been by your side for years and takes his job very seriously, and though Frankie would never admit it aloud, he’s relieved the guy is ready and able to protect you with unhesitating ruthlessness.  

“Morales,” Will greets tersely. “State your business.”

“I just wanna see her,” Frankie replies without preamble.

He scoffs and curls his upper lip, but before he can reply with something undoubtedly and deservedly curt, your voice lilts through air.

“William?” you call out. “Who is it?”

It’s clear by Will’s thunderous expression that Frankie’s unexpected arrival has caused a disruption of the regularly scheduled programming. He’s positive the guy is just itching to plug him, but that doesn’t happen. Instead of being pumped full of lead, a quiet exchange between you and Will takes place, ending with him re-holstering his weapon and you graciously inviting Frankie inside.

The polonaise runner just beyond the threshold guides Frankie into the foyer, the hardwood floor beneath it polished to a high shine and positively gleaming under the soft light emitting from the chandelier hanging overhead. The ornate mirror situated above the marble console in the entryway reveals his slumped profile and wrinkled suit, and Will’s unimpressed sneer is all it takes to get him to straighten his tie and square his shoulders.

Will resets the alarm, and takes your slight nod and murmured thanks for the polite dismissal it is. Once he’s gone, you motion for Frankie to follow you, traversing a familiar path toward the kitchen. He clocks the sway of your hips as he trails behind, paying no mind to the cleaning crew who stops mid-task to hurriedly make themselves scarce. The chef and small army of assistants packing up leftovers and scrubbing the hell out of cookware are just as respectful, filing out in a silent, quick procession.

The two of you are alone, so, you play hostess, going for the fridge and emerging with a bottle of Voss in hand. After placing it on the island within his reach, you move off, and the physical distance between you isn’t lost on him. It hurts, but affords Frankie the opportunity to take you in. Louboutin heels. Trendy cocktail dress with a modest hem length and neckline. Tasteful jewelry, light make-up, and hair pinned back in an elegant twist.  

You’re straight-up class. And so far beyond his reach.

You – blue-blooded and born into generational wealth. Him – a nobody from nowhere. Your name commands respect. His incites fear. You’re an admired, contributing member of the community, full of kindness, and always willing to help. He’s a trigger man, constantly on the precipice of chaos, dragging around a sordid reputation, and always ready to run.

You’re the real deal. You’ve got the pedigree that demands a high-class match with someone important. Someone who doesn’t have a permanent target on his back. Someone safe, who doesn’t always have to fight, fuck, kill, or steal to keep what he’s got. And he knows – damn it, he knows he’s not worthy…   

“Why are you here, Frankie?” you prompt gently.

Thoughts grinding to a halt and at a loss for the right words, he simply shrugs. The picture of patience, you remain silent, which is just as well. He knows he can’t keep doing this to himself or to you. He needs to do right by you. He needs stay the fuck away, but it’s always so much easier said than actually done.

In fact, it hasn’t been that long since he last saw you. A month, maybe? He wondered then, as he does now, if you’ve moved on because he certainly, obviously, hasn’t. And the thought of anyone else touching you? The mere idea of you with another? Someone who could be part of your world, whose mere presence wouldn’t put your life at risk? It makes Frankie reexamine both you and his surroundings with a more observant, suspicious gaze.

Beyond the obvious chaos of a messy kitchen is a small chef’s table, and on the surface, a half-eaten chartreuse board and an open bottle of Merlot. Two pieces of stemware; one stained with lipstick matching your shade, and the other, blemished by the remaining inch of red at the bottom. The lingering stench of a cigar. The presence of your favorite handbag on the chair.

What he perceives amounts to nothing more than a collection of assumptive, so-called evidence that fits the wild narrative in his mind. Still, Frankie seethes with jealousy. Mind and body all tilt-o-whirl, he snarls – deep and nasty, like he’s some sort of fucking animal protecting his territory, but you don’t balk. Instead, you reach for your clutch, pop the clasp, and fish out what looks like a folded piece of paper.

“The charity fundraiser was this evening, remember?” you explain without any guilt or guile. “Pope asked for a private audience after. Apparently, I forgot to rescind his invitation.”

Frankie runs the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, eyes narrowing at the nondescript check you slide across the island’s countertop. Temper unjustifiably flared and now subsequently doused, he snatches up the proffered bottle of water, uncaps it, and forces gulps past the fist-sized lump in his throat.

Fuckin’ Pope. When it comes to making money, he’s merciless, indiscriminate, and not one to let personal feelings get in the way of business dealings. Of course, he’d want to rub elbows with your people. His presence at your soiree, along with Will’s trigger-happy mood, and all the extra staff and guards? It makes complete sense.

But a one-on-one so late afterward? It must’ve been important – something urgent that couldn’t be spoken of in mixed company or discussed over the phone. There are only so many things a man like Pope and a woman like you would have to talk about. Last Frankie knew, the police were still sniffing around, and the lawyer you have on retainer is having a fucking field day, but the heat isn’t bad enough to warrant a face-to-face.

Then again, maybe Pope sought you out for personal reasons and professional gains. Pairing up with the big Boss would guarantee your continued safety and silence a lot of wagging tongues. Your connections would also open up a plethora of new revenue streams, providing Pope with unfettered access to some very deep pockets. Shit, Frankie can practically hear Pope listing the mutual benefits, spinning the rationale of it all, and it makes him feel sick.

Sick and absolutely fucking murderous.

You’re an honest, good woman. All that forthrightness and decency – it’s right there, in your beguiling, steady gaze. And you’re not stupid. In fact, you’re too damn smart for your own good, and the thought of you putting yourself at risk makes Frankie itchy all over. You’re so disarmingly calm, while he’s barely fucking holding it together, and damn it, he has to know for sure…

“Did Pope –” Frankie croaks, scraping a hand through his hair. “Did he ask you to do something for him? Or want to take you out on like, a date, or whatever?”

Lips parting in shock, you blink as if taken aback, and that’s answer enough. Relief buoys and deflates him, and Frankie downplays his seesawing emotions and outlandish, self-sabotaging thoughts by moving over to the table and busying his hands. He pokes at the slices of baguette and the cubes of gourmet cheese. Feigns interest in the thinly sliced prosciutto. Tilts the wine bottle to glance at the label.

None of it interests him because the only thing Frankie’s interested in is you. He gave you up for all right reasons, but still, the feelings you stir inside of him, and the white-hot desire he has for you – they’ll never go away. They roll through him now, stronger than ever; dark possessiveness and furious agony punching him in the gut and pulsing between his legs and clawing at his already tender, bleeding heart.

Frankie met you while scouting some swanky restaurant ripe for poaching, and after cajoling you into abandoning a dinner party, he somehow talked you into drinks, and then, seduced you into his bed. What should’ve been an amazing one-night stand morphed into eight months that quite literally rocked his world. Your acceptance of who he is, your ability to compartmentalize, the way you simply fit in and adapted to his extremely fucked up reality – hell, if the shoe were on the other foot, Frankie’s not sure he could’ve risen to the occasion or withstood it.

What he’s found and experienced with you – it’s fucking lightning in a bottle. Insane, magical, incomprehensible. It never happens for guys like him because guys like him don’t get the girl or the happily-ever-after. Too good to be true? Maybe. Was he in too deep? Absolutely. But it didn’t matter if you were ignorant or a willing participant – it was dangerous either way.

And Pope’s not just the Boss – he’s Frankie’s best friend. His brother. And Frankie’s a loyal soldier – has been since the two of them were in diapers. Yes, he’s in love with you, and if you moved on, he’d get over it eventually. Someday. Maybe. But if you moved on with Pope? He wouldn’t – couldn’t – survive that. And because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment, he has to ask the million-dollar question.

“What if he wanted to?” Frankie asks, pressing his thumb into what he believes is a hunk of Parmesan Reggiano and mashing it flat. “Would you consider it?”

“Consider what?” you wonder. 

“Being with him?”

A sharp breath. A ragged exhale. Your lower lip trembles before it gets bitten into submission by your teeth, and when you meet his gaze, he sees his own pain reflected back at him a thousand times over.

You tell him to leave, heels tap-tap-tapping as you hastily move for the intercom system, voice clipped and cold as you inform him a maid will see him out. He hasn’t just offended you; he’s hurt you, again, but a halting hand on your waist and a fervently whispered apology keeps you from the call button.

Frankie knows he’s got no fucking right – no right to question you or touch you, and certainly no right to step forward when you step back. He’s got no right to dig his fingers into your hip or press you up against the pantry door or burrow his nose against the crown of your head and slowly, greedily inhale.

“I’d fuckin’ kill him,” he growls. “If he ever – I swear, I’d fucking rip his throat out.”

You place your hand over his, and your touch is so soothing, immediately calming his too-hot temper like top-shelf whiskey. Your index finger ghosts over his knuckle tattoos. Ink that means nothing to outsiders, but showcases to anyone who knows his world just how dangerous he is. It’s the hand he uses to dispense justice; it’s scarred, tainted and stained with blood, yet, you touch it with such reverence, such fearlessness…

Frankie closes his eyes and rolls his jaw, “I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean –”

“I wouldn’t,” you interject, words weighted and insistent. “Not ever.”

“You don’t – shit, you don’t need to tell me that,” he insists, shaking his head at his own uncouth stupidity. “Besides, it’s none of my business. And you’re right – I should go. I should go and stay gone.”

You let out a soft, contrary sound, “You shouldn’t have left.”

He swallows hard. You turn your head. Then, your nose and cheek are brushing against his jaw in a gesture of affection that settles something inside of him that’s too feral to define. Your palms gliding up his arms, along his shoulders, and down the expanse of his chest – it pulls him back from the ledge he’s been tiptoeing along since the day he said goodbye to you.

Frankie meets your eyes. Cups your cheek. Allows his thumb to caress your soft skin. You say nothing, but you look at him as if he’s the only one – as if there could never be another – and he wonders if you can tell that he feels the same way.

“I love you, Frankie,” you assert. “It’s always going to be you.”

“Cariño…” he sighs against your temple.

You’re braver – so much braver than he’ll ever be – and you’re the one who gives into it. You press your lips to the scruff covering his chin, and that gentle, achingly familiar prelude to a kiss destroys his already too-flimsy resolve. Frankie is the one surrendering to you, but you’re the one who yields to him, tilting your head back and opening up to his eager mouth.

He dreamt of you every night. Woke up every day to cold sheets. Had been unable to throw away your toothbrush or part with the half-full bottle of your shampoo. Was unwilling to change the lock screen on his phone from a picture of you to something less painful to look at. He couldn’t delete the playlist you made for him or stop buying the books you put in his Amazon cart. Your favorite fuzzy socks are still in his top drawer, tucked safely next to the pristinely folded, ridiculously threadbare boyband t-shirt you’ve had since you were a teenager.

You have no idea what you do to him. No clue about the kind of hell he’d raise for you, the bodies he’d put in the ground, the lives he’d destroy – all for you. He can’t explain it, not in words, so, he coveys it with his body. Seeking the taste of you with his tongue and searching for your skin with his hands. Sliding his thigh between your legs and rocking into you because he just wants to be close – he just wants to feel you, to lose himself inside of you, to make you smile at him again.

“Upstairs,” you whisper into his ear. “Come upstairs with me, Frankie.”

Powerless to resist, he follows you to the privacy of your room, located on the second floor at the very end of the hall. Jacket, belt, tie – you divest him of his modern-day armor, letting the pieces fall like petals leading up the path to the altar that is your California King-sized bed. Frankie’s shoulder holster is last, and once he’s placed his gun safely on the nightstand, you begin frantically working apart the buttons on his shirt.  

“Love you, cariño,” he pants as he yanks his arms free of the sleeves. “I love you so goddamn much.”

You kick off your heels before giving him your back, “Show me.”

Frankie lowers the zipper on your dress. Pushes at the straps. Watches the inky, supple material slip and slide off your figure. You work your panties down, ass teasingly meeting his crotch as you push the delicate silk and lace past your garter belt. Then, you ease down onto the bed, back hitting the downy comforter with a soft thud.

He’s palming himself through his pants, trying to decide where to start, and your thighs parting in invitation help him make up his mind. He kneels. Hooks his arms around your calves. Yanks you forward until your ass is practically hanging off the mattress. You let out a peal of laughter, and he grins up at you rather dopily as he hitches your legs over his shoulders.

“This okay?” he breathes against your calve.

You touch the tip of your tongue to your upper lip and nod, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Are you?”

It’s impossible to miss the vulnerability and doubt in your eyes. Frankie knows he wasn’t the only one brokenhearted and that his mistakes hurt you both. An apology seems so inadequate, but he says it anyway, listing the litany of ways he intends to make it up to you, but only if you’ll allow it.

You cup his face and let out a sigh, “I just want you. That’s all.”

Frankie nods. Presses a kiss to your palm. Allows his lips and tongue to trace a path up your thighs, canines sinking into supple flesh along the way. He seeks the center of you with a parched tongue and fingers longing to touch, and when he reaches his destination, you cry out for him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, suckling your clit and dipping his tongue inside for a taste. “Let me take care of you, cariño. Just let go for me, yeah?” 

Your left breast – plump, soft, and encased in silk – spills free when he yanks the cup of your bra down. Frankie pinches the hardened peak of your nipple, and you arch into his caress, clamping down on his fingers and writhing all over his face. You’re lost to it, just like he is, and when you come against his mouth, it’s indescribably beautiful.

“I need you,” you declare fervently. “Need you inside me, Frankie.”

He doesn’t heed your call until he makes you come again. When he does get to his feet, you’re boneless, but still, you sit up and reach for him. As soon as he’s popped the button on his pants and worked the zipper down, your hands are there, tugging at his boxers. You take him out and wrap your fingers around him, nice and snug, just how he likes. He’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, unable to stop his hips from pumping into your firm hold, and he has to put a halt to your teasing or risk coming in your hand. 

His boxers and pants are in a tangle over his shoes, but he manages to kick everything off and crawl into the soft pile of blankets and pillows after you. Frankie peels off your stockings. Winds your silky-smooth, bare legs around his waist. He kisses you, teasing you and bumping your clit with his hard length until you beg him for it.

He lines up. Pushes in. And then, it’s paradise – pure and true.

You twine your arms over his shoulders, pulling him down into the cradle of your embrace until he’s practically smothering you. Forearms braced on either side of your head and face buried into the crook of your neck, Frankie eases back and slowly thrusts forward to the hilt with a roll of his hips. You meet him halfway, tilting your pelvis up and bearing down, engulfing him in a fist-tight wetness that forces him to work for every deep stroke.  

“You feel so fuckin’ good, cariño,” he groans, smearing his lips along the hinge of your jaw. Frankie puts more effort and weight behind each thrust, hitting deep and keeping a firm, steady pace that he knows gets you off. “Did you miss this? Miss me?”

You mewl. Nod frantically. Forehead pressed to yours, he reaches for the bend of your knee and loops your leg over the crook of his elbow so he can put his back into it. Driving and grinding into you possessively, gaze fixated on yours, flitting between nipping at the tops of your breasts and licking into your mouth and sucking at the pulse point of your neck.

“N-no more,” you stutter, biting into the meat of his shoulder. “No more running, Frankie.”

Frankie nods and snaps his hips forward, “No more running.”

The promise is sealed with another kiss, and when you come for him again, Frankie loses what little finesse he still possesses. You encourage his rutting, whispering in his ear that you want it, that you need him to come inside you. And you’re so wet, he can hear it – how turned on you are, how good he makes you feel, and it’s so good – so goddamned good – that when he comes, his vision dims and all the noise in his head goes silent.

Save for your mingled, harsh breaths, it’s quiet. Peaceful. You welcome his weight on top of you, holding him, scratching at his scalp and kissing his forehead and running your hands up and down his spine. Affection, freely given, without any expectation or ulterior motive behind it. It reminds him of what he almost lost, and he vows to himself that he’ll never let you go again. 

Frankie looks up at you with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, “What did Pope actually want?”

“He begged me to take you back,” you reply, letting out an amused sound as you trace a fingertip over the shell of his ear. “Said he’d donate ten thousand dollars if I did.”

“Is that so? And what did you say?”

“I told him it wasn’t my decision. Then, he upped the offer to twenty, so, I said I’d think about it.”

Frankie snorts and squeezes your waist, “Oh, I bet he hated that.”

“Well, you’ve apparently been a real pain in his ass lately,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug. “So, I told him to donate fifty, and that I’d call him when you came to your senses.” 

He laughs – full-bodied and freely. He kisses you – proud of the hard bargain you drove. And once Frankie’s tucked into bed beside you, absorbing your warmth into his cold bones, he makes a mental note to thank Pope for his meddling in the morning.

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

[pimosworld]

Read it again Series

You ever have that fic or series that you just can’t get enough of. You revisit it whenever you need to scratch that itch or have a good cry. This is my way of showing appreciation to the writers and also a little self indulgent to be able to find all my favorites in one place.

Part I

Part II

Part III

#pedro pascal characters #oscar isaac characters #triple frontier #tlou #moon knight fanfiction #club blue jones #narcos #javier pena x you #joel smut #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #will ironhead miller #benjamin miller #steven grant fluff #jake lockley fluff #marc spector x f!reader #frankie morales #moon knight mcu #tlou imagine #joel x reader #javier peña fluff #javier peña smut #santiago garcia x francisco morales #fic recs

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Girl on Fire

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

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

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: Pregnancy, breeding kink, violent sex, domestic violence on a man, gunshots, references to murder,, death, torture, all the horrors. The end was disturbing even to me, so read with caution. If you find the end was too much, just ask me what happens and I'll tell you. not super plot important but like it was pointed out, the sex is how we see dynamic shifts. Mentions of mpreg fantesy but no mpreg will happen bc they arent actually god, just insane.

3.7k words

A/N: Some pov shifts. Madonna, Jonah, Rey, Santi all get POV's.

A.N2: context for song quote, Alicia wrote girl on fire after the birth of her son.

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"She's on top of the world Hottest of the hottest girls say Oh, we got our feet on the ground And we're burning it down Oh, got our head in the clouds And we're not coming down This girl is on fire" ~ Girl On Fire, Alicia Keys

“It’s okay, you’re gonna do great.” Rey assured her, sitting on a table in the dressing room despite a chair being right there. His lanky legs liked to dangle, you noticed, or sometimes perch up in high places. He reminded you of a bird sometimes, lithe and graceful and seemed to float on his feet.

“What if they don’t like me? What if something happens? What if there’s another uprising or someone wants revenge on me because of my dad-”

“The people love you, and they were going to love you even more with this announcement. Jonah’s not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

Your face grows warm at the mention of Jonah. He had acted distant with you since the instance of Frankie and you on the horse, and wouldn’t let you see his face when he showed up the next morning with bruises. In fact, you’d hardly seen him at all. Rey was your primary guard, and Will had talked about moving your room to one with an attached room for Reyansh so that he could stay with you at all times. It seemed everyone knew Iris and Rey were an item, or at least they understood Reyansh was not a threat. You had begged Will not to switch around rooms. The reason given was that you liked your room, but really, you were hoping that you’d be moved into a room with one of your husbands. You weren’t visited by the incubus the night they all slept in your room.

Still, Jonah looked out for you. Under your dress right now was his bulletproof vest. 

A knock on the door.

“Come in.” Iris called to the door, still working on your hair.

Will entered the room. “Are you ready, Madonna?”

Before you opened your mouth, Iris replied. “You could use her real name, you know.”

Will didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on you. “Her name is irrelevant, her position is everything.” When he turns and sees Reyansh, Will frowns. “What are you doing in here?”

Iris was quick to answer his unvoiced question. “He only came in after she was dressed.”

He instructs Reyansh to ready the carriage. Once he was out, Will turned to you with a smile. “You look stunning, Madonna.” Your heart swells with love for your handsome husband, dressed in his loose white shirt. In your hair, small white flowers adored you, carefully placed and worked in by Iris’s hands. She was incredible, making your dress too. It was colorful, with a color representing all four of your husbands. Under it, a bulletproof vest. No one in delta outside of guardsmen was allowed guns, but he wanted to be safe.

“Wow…” Will whispers, taking you in. There was just the slightest swell of a bump, you wondered if it was just weight gained from eating more these few months. Will took you into his arms kissing you deeply and feeling your stomach. Iris mumbles close enough as you’re pulled away. He turns back to her only a moment. “Make sure everything is ready when we’re back, please.”

Iris sighs, “It always is, Mr. Miller.”

*

Jonah cocked his gun. “Same as last time, honey. Anything happens, you come with me. Those guys can handle themself. I get hurt, do not stop for me. Just run. Someone will come find you, you just keep yourself alive, got it?” His brown eyes were on you for the first time in a long time, and you relaxed. Jonah’s eyes always calm you. It’s scary, knowing you were responsible for not just you, but someone else as well. The priestess stood at the balcony to the side, your husbands flanking you. Pope to your right, Francisco to your left, Ben to his left and Will to Popes right. Just as you were married.

“Men! Women! Children of Delta!” She shouts to the crown. “I present your Gods and your Madonna!” The crowd erupts into screams, and your heart fills with love for your people. “And!” A hush falls over the ground, waiting breaths quiet as they wait for the news. “I present to you, THE SAVIOR!”

The sound was deafening, a noise that shocked you and made you stumble back. To your surprise, Pope was behind you. It was a greater surprise when he rucked up your skirt.

Immediately your hands, out of instinct, go to bring the material down but his fingers quickly dig into your skin, warning you to behave. So, you stand there, humiliated, left hand gripping Francisco’s tighter. Pope loved you, he loved you and he’d never do something just to humiliate you! How stupid of you for feeling that way. This child was long prayed for, they and your body belonged to your husbands, belonged to Delta. Pope lifted your dress over the small bump,exposing your underwear to the crown. No one outside of your husband, a few house motherns and prefects had seen you in your underwear, so this was difficult…

But then Pope kissed your neck, and the worries melted away. Will, Francisco and Ben come to you, each placing a hand on your stomach as the priestess shouts, reaffirming that the savior’s parentage was of all four, that each of your husbands fathered this baby. You were called the vessel for their seed.

Then, you were placed on a tour. On a sitting carriage with all 4 of your husbands, you were paraded around to cheering people, the faces of women from your dormitory and even your room recognizable in the crowds. One woman whose bed was next to yours shot you a deadly glare as you passed by. She was mean, frequently detailing her escapades with Ben and throwing your own lack of attention in your face, but who was laughing now? Ben choose her for a short term fuck. You had a greater purpose.

When you reached the mansion again, the gates were crowded with people reaching out for you, and although there was fear as the mass of the crowd grew, there was also power. The savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned lay in your holy womb, you were the bringer of life. YOU were the divine mother.

The gunshot brought you back to reality.

*

“WILL!” You scream as your husband is shot backwards, stumbling into his brother’s arms who he shoved out of the way of the bullet. Jonah didn’t care about Will, however. He didn’t care about Ben falling at him brothers side under the weight. He didn’t even care about Francisco scrambling to grab at Ben in the chaos, and he certainly didn’t care about Santiago dragging Frankie away.

He cared about, sobbing in his arms desperately trying to get to your fallen love. Jonah wrapped an arm around you and pulled you away into the riotous, scampering crowd. You needed to get away from the shooter. 

“NO!” You bawl loudly. Howling that he’s dying, that you need to be with him, but Jonah didn’t give a shit about that prick. He calls to Reyansh, who jumped out of the carriage the second the gun goes off. It was intentional, having Rey at the helm with him; only Rey would care enough about you out of all the guardsmen that Jonah could depend on him. Into the madness, you wouldn’t stop screaming and that rainbow dress of yours was not helping the situation. 

“Rey! The tunic!” Jonah had to spin you around to disorient you enough to make you stop fighting in your hysteria, forcing your arms up while Rey slid a long, brown standard tunic over your body, making you blend into the neutral tones on the crown. Jonah clamped down over your mouth and pulled you away as the center of the shooting grew further away, Reynash covering you both. Once at the posting for a guard, Rey held you as Jonah mounted the steed and pulled you up, riding off with you.

*

You hadn't stopped sobbing for hours. Reyansh watched in concern, wanted so badly to comfort you lest the heaving and thrashing harm the baby or yourself. Rey loved children, he couldn’t wait for a day he could take Iris away and raise a family together, to finally be with her intimately and live a life with her. 

Even if children weren’t in the picture (Iris wanted one in theory, but was hesitant to bring one into this world, understandably.) he’d cherish a life growing old with his lover. Maybe they’d some orphaned child; Iris had a soft spot for children in need. Her maternal instincts are why, despite not wanting to be friends or even really know her, Iris took care of the girl. Iris had ten years on the naive child. Continuously, she had warned him about keeping his distance, not raising suspicion that anything was happening between him and the girl, but it wasn’t his fault she was damn delightful. However, despite her obvious beauty, talents and sweet demeanor, nothing compared to Iris.

Reyansh could wax poetry about her all day long, and often did. He barely had any free time, most of the pockets of time he had, Rey liked to help Iris with her Herculean tasks, the laundry and dishes like Sisyphus and the boulder. He couldn’t take away the fact the next day would be filled with more dishes, more wall washing, more cooking, but he’d gladly sacrifice an hour of sleep so she could gain one. With him at all times, however, was his notebook and pen. As he sat at a mount or perch Rey liked to try his hand at poetry and writing. 

Sometimes it was about the beauty of nature, the flowers he planted and gardens he kept, how they gave him joy during difficult times. Sometimes it was about the complex nature of family, of Iris and Jonah, Santiago and what he knew of Beatriz, which wasn’t much, the strained love and hatred between Will and Ben, or his own desire for fatherhood. Sometimes he wrote about the 5 lovers, the girl, the men who claimed to be gods, how each individual relationship strengthened them and weakened them in their own ways and how the girl changed things for better or for worse. Mostly, he just wrote about Iris, the prettiest flower he had.

He caught a glimpse of Jonah at the window, motioning him to come out. This safe house was his idea. Apparently, he and Marcus used to escape here sometimes.

Rey tries to tell you he’s stepping outside but you aren’t listening, curled up in a ball on the bed sobbing. He makes his exit.

Once outside, Jonah offers him a sip from his flask but Rey declines.

“I was going to ask how she is, but I can hear my answer.” The sound of you wailing penetrates the walls.

“How Will?”

“He’ll live, unfortunately.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Jonah sighs, lighting a cigarette. ���Wish those fuckers would just die.”

There was a long pause, Reyansh thinking hard before saying what he was thinking. He didn’t defy or talk back to Jonah, he respected him as his superior and, for all intents and purposes, his father in law. But Jonah was flawed. “You’re the one with a gun, Jonah”

Jonah inhaled a long drag before answering in a puff of smoke. “We’ve been over this.” He walked into the safe house.

They had talked, several times. Rey wanted Iris out but he didn’t have much power and knowledge. Jonah had the gun and a hundred reasons not to. There was no way to kill all 4 because everyone was armed. The community would riot. There was no where safe to go. A failed attempted would end Iris’s life. All these may be true, Jonah did have 4 decades of guard experience… but really, Rey thought he was just a coward, and maybe he cared for Pope and/or Francisco more than he’d like to admit. He’d been with those two since infancy, helped raise them, been a father figure most of their lives… it was understandable.

When he walked into the house, it was to crying but this time, relieved. He must have told her Will would be okay. You had your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you close to him, rubbing your back.

“It’s gonna be okay, honey, everyone’s gonna be just fine.”

*

Ben was changing Will’s bandages when you walked in and it made you nauseous to see the blood. Jonah said the bullet went straight through, that he’d be okay he just needed to rest, but the sight was disturbing.

Will groans. “Baby, don’t want you seeing me like this.”

Benny flicks his brothers arm. “Let her be, she was worried about you.”

The older Miller grumbled, but allowed you to kneel his side. He thumbed away a tear, “Don’t cry for me, beautiful girl.”

“What happened?” You sniffle, looking between Benny and Will.

“A girl from the dorms, she took the gun off a guard and tried to shoot-”

Ben interrupted. “You, Madonna.” He looked to his brother. “Melody, your old roommate, she tried to shoot you out of jealousy, she wanted to be with me. Will pushed you aside, took the bullet.”

You blink at that. Melondy wanted to shoot you? She wanted you dead? And Will. was he even standing by you? “But… I don’t remember being pushed.”

“Oh sweet girl…” Will cood. “Do you not remember? Poor thing, it was probably so traumatic-”

“No, I remember-”

“Your brain probably blocked a lot of it out, repressed it to protect you.”

Yeah, yeah that made sense. Memory was fragile. Will winced and Ben finished cleaning him and you took his hand as a new packing kit was applied. “Thank you for saving me…” You kiss his hand, feeling the rough knuckles warm skin. “For saving our baby…”

You fell asleep beside him that night, laying on his chest. He was warm, firm, inviting and protective. Nothing mattered more than the fact your husbands and your baby were safe.

Melody was dead. After the first shot missed, she approached where the four men had gathered intent on finding you, but Ben said Pope shot her square in the forehead, that he protected you while Jonah and Reyansh took you to safety. Ben said he had stood in front of his brothers and you, fearless, brave and bold. Pope loved his people, but he loved you most of all.

When you awoke, it was lae evening and although you wanted to go back to sleep, after some tossing and turning you realized you could. Not wanting to wake Will, you check his pulse and breathing, both strong and head out of the room to see if anyone is up. You know they dont like you wandering around the mansion without protection but you weren’t a child.

After Jonah and Rey had taken you back home, you were desperate to see William, but Pope demanded your presence with Francisco, both holding you tightly and checking you over again and again, tell you how precious you were, how loved. Pope knelt in front of you, hands on your belly, kissing it. You were thankful to have such loving and protective husbands. Despite the horrors of today, you felt blessed beyond measure 

You came to the kitchen first seeing a light on. Sometimes Benny liked late night snacks. Instead, you see Iris and Reyansh slow dancing in the kitchen. Iris was actually smiling. No doubt Rey was fearful of his own women’s safety being forced in the cabin with you for so long after a riot broke out right outside where she was. Silent, you step away from the cute lovers and allow them their time. Rey helped save your life today, you needed to thank him, and thank Iris for all she did for your family, you were lucky to have them both.

You try to see if Pope is awake next. When you approach his room, the grunting sounds make you stop, peaking through the slightly cracked door. Pope was on top of Francisco, fucking into his ass with his legs bent up into a press. It was a position he used on you many a time. Francisco was a puddle beneath him, his curls stuck to the sweat on his head. He looked incredible. The way Pope kissed him so deep… You couldn’t help feeling warm inside. How lucky you were that your husbands loved each other so much.

Ben was found in the gym. For a moment, you merely watch him. Shirtless in his red shorts and throwing punches at a punching bag. He probably had so much energy in him after everything today, watching his brother bleeding in his arms. She knew they didn’t always get along, Ben holding anger for Will so often and over what, you couldn’t yet discern. Maybe this tragedy would bring them back together. You admire his body, carved out and chiseled in perfect form. 

You loved the bodies of all your husbands, in each and every different.

Will was largess; tall, muscular, wide everywhere. Everywhere. His body consumed you just as yours consumed him; he was like a shield, metaphorically and now literally.

Santiago was softer. A small belly that was only noticeable when he was bent over, plush though and a moon shaped ass. He was all curves, from his nose down to his calved you had massaged so ardently.

If Pope was soft, Francisco was a pillow. Heavy weight surrounded him, the broad expanse of his shoulders to the fat at his waist and you just wanted to bury your face into it, you want to bite, nibble, and worship the pudge that spilled over his pants.

Ben was lean, the tallest of them and slim hips under rippling muscles. Golden God, beholden before you and it was as if his glory radiated off him. Despite the strength he was light on his feat. He could have been a boxer in another life.

“How are you feeling?” His deep voice breaks the tranfiction of the way his body moved, stilling the punching bag.

“I’m good, just woke from a nap with Will.”

Still looking away, Ben nodded. His mood matched the storm clouds out the window. After wiping his face, Benny chugged water and then finally made his way over to you in long, quick strides. His eyes flashed with the lightning outside.

*

Pope fucked Frankie with a fury he couldn’t recall in years. Frankie had defined him, ignoring his orders to leave but no, he wanted to stay with Ben. 

“You don’t think I wanted Ben and Will safe too?” He growled in his lovers ear. 

“I know!”

“You’re more important!”

He almost lost Will, Ben, the savior, and most importantly Frankie today. The girl would pay, fuck she’d pay. He couldn’t do anything Madonna might see, she thinks she’s dead already… no, a gunshot was to quick for someone trying to harm his family, but he’d make her suffer.

His anger toward Francisco wouldn't be helped when today, when he went to make love to Frankie, he found him in Ben's arms, cumming on his hand.

*

Ben had you pinned against the wall, fucking into you with your legs hitched around his narrow hips. The wind outside picked up speed, displaying his anger, his frustration, his love and his lust. You let him take you, fucking into your pregnant womb with his face tucked in your neck. You felt as if you were floating, like you were the center of the world right now. The sun God orbited you. Someone had tried to take you from him, a women he used to claim as his own but she had been cast aside for a reason. In her jealousy, she though she could regain her place at his side but that was foolish. Ben would never have loved her the way he loved you, the way he loved his husbands. Will, Francisco and Pope could never love her. 

She was not the Madonna.

She could never carry the savior.

She could only ever have a bastard.

*

“Gonna fill you up, Frank.” Pope grunted, breath hot against Francisco's cheek, mouth to mouth, lips to lips. “Gonna fill up this tight little hole of yours until you’re pregnant with my baby, you got that?”

Frank’s eyes went wide. “Santi, wha-” But he stopped when Santiago slapped him. This shocked Frankie, Santi didn’t slap him, he didn’t hurt him like that…

“Take it!” Santiago screams, tears of anger blurring his eyes. He chose Ben over him. He’d rather stay in danger with Ben than safety with him. “Your mine, under stand?!” When Frankie didn’t answer right away, Pope gripped his jaw and felt a warm tear fall down his cheek. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

*

Long fingers gripping your asscheeks, digging into the sensitive skin.

Firm abs rubbing against your body.

Hips stimulating your clit.

A finger fucking into your asshole. 

Everything was better than your wildest dreams. No incubus, a child on the way, friends and family. This was a life your father tried to take from you, but you were like gold that’s tested in fire.

Ben came inside when the thunder cracked, lightning still flashing and illuminating him with light. He muttered Francisco’s name.

*

“YES!” Francisco shouted in pain, face grimacing. “I’m yours! I’m yours Santi, fill me up! Make me-” He swallowed, tears forming at his long lashes. He gritted his teeth. “Make me p-pregnant!”  Francisco was saying anything that'd make Santi stuff, just to make him cum and end this. He just wanted it over. All of it. He didn't understand why he wasn't allow to be happy, to feel safe, to have peace. Instead he had to submit to Santi's whims just like Beatriz.

Santiago tucked his face into his lovedrsneck, biting him as he came inside. Whimpering, tears streaming wildly down his face, Santiago bit into Frankie’s tender flesh: neck, then shoulder, till finally he just continuously bit into the skin on his large arm, drawing the blood and bruising the skin. It hurt like hell, Frankie's head thrashing back and forth on the pillow trying to take the pain and bare it. Santiago's tears mixed with blood as he finished cumming, thrusts slowing into a lul.

Francisco didn’t know where his body ended and Santi’s began.

He wanted Ben, to be held and protected by him. To be touched gently, with love. To be not possessed but show off so that he knew Ben was proud of him, proud of what they had, not what the fuck Santigo was doing to him. He wanted Madonna with her sweet kisses and open adoration. He wanted Will with his healing nature, tender hands on his arching, bleeding arm. He wanted anything but Santi’s touch right now.

Santiago curled behind Francisco. His hand rested on Frankie’s stomach.

***********

This disturbed me writing the end asdfghjkl

Madonna crying Reminds me of tww bonus chapter where little one thinks joel is dead and is just ugly sobbing

Madonna has... a lot to process today, and absolutly no therapy and no one she can be honest with about what she's witnessing.

I hope you all enjoyed... or .... something....???

Thoughts on Santis episode, Benny having a fit because he wanted Frankie but had to take madonna, will being shot, madonna is pregant, rey's thoughts!!!!! Jonah protecting madonna, etc.

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love you all dearly <3 I hope to get at least one more tf fic for the triple frontier anniverary evnt before the end, and maybe something else like a TWW bonus chapter i've been wanting, but no gurantees. next week is spring break and i have 10k worth of commissions to write so il be busy! I wanna get the last chapter of my handmaids tale au out though, end that baby <3

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[dameronscopilot]

tides & heat

Benjamin "Benny" Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Flirting with Benny Miller every chance you get while simultaneously deflecting his advances is all fun and games until you find yourself stuck at his bar in the middle of a tropical storm. With nowhere left to hide from your simmering sexual tension, things may finally reach a boiling point.

Word Count: 5.7k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY Content: NSFW, smut, plot that dissolves into straight filth, spit kink, choking kink, thigh riding, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, gratuitous amounts of cum, cum eating, spanking, dirty talk, bartender!Benny

Turning your body in Benny’s arms, you shifted so that you were facing him. You pressed your forehead against his chest, not quite ready to meet the heated gaze that you knew was in his eyes, and both of you breathed heavily into the silence. After a few beats, Benny eventually lifted a hand and tipped your chin upward, and you were swiftly pulled out to sea by a searing tide of yearning. You were done fighting against the current.

A/N: I wholeheartedly blame the Tulsa King trailer for inspiring this absolute filth, thanks. Or sorry. Or...you're welcome...?

You desperately willed your legs to move faster as the light drizzle rapidly began to transition into an all-out downpour, the worn rubber soles of your sneakers slipping precariously across the pedals of your bike. Huffing out a small sigh of relief as the familiar building you had been heading in the direction of finally came into view, you pushed on until your tires began to crunch their way through the gravel driveway of Taps. 

After giving your bike a semi-dry home stashed in the corner of the bar’s covered deck overlooking the ocean, you did a onceover of the parking lot—which was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon—and smiled to yourself when your eyes landed on a shitty old green Land Rover that had seen far better days. Well, thankfully that meant Benny was working. After hastily trying to wring some of the water out of your soaking wet tank top, you pushed open the creaky wooden front door, shivering slightly as you entered the air conditioned building. 

“Care to explain why you’re out for a bike ride when there’s a tropical storm rolling in, sweetheart?” Benny drawled from where he stood leaning against the bar counter with his arms folded over his chest.

“I thought I could make it back in time,” you grumbled as you made your way over to the empty row of stools. 

Water droplets dribbled onto the clean, dry counter in front of you when you plopped down, prompting Benny to throw an unused towel at your head. You stuck out your tongue but gratefully took it from him. 

The sound of an alarm cut through the lazy country song playing throughout the bar, and Benny shifted his attention to the television hanging on the wall behind him. You glanced up to see a live video of trees violently whipping around in the rain and wind, accompanied by a red banner with a marquee of big, bold text crawling across it.

… SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY … FLOODING IMMINENT … 

Just as the screen switched over to a radar map to show the storm’s projected path, the television went black.

“Shit,” Benny muttered, glancing around to see that everything else in the building had shut off as well. 

While you’d had more than a few fantasies about the man standing in front of you since the day that you met, being trapped at Taps with no power during a raging tropical storm hadn’t quite been one of them.

You’d first crossed paths with Benny thanks to Santiago Garcia, an acquaintance from your recreational soccer team. A few months ago, after a particularly harrowing win, Santi had offered to buy everyone a round of drinks at his buddy’s new spot to celebrate. The buddy in question happened to be one of his old military pals, an MMA fighter that had recently come into some money and thus decided to invest it in fixing up an old oceanfront bar. 

Given your sweaty, disheveled state, you’d laughed off Benny’s flirtatious comments as he passed you beers and tossed you winks throughout the evening, chalking it up to an eager owner just trying to rake in tips for his new business venture. But then you’d ended up stopping in at the bar a few days later when you realized mid-ride that you’d forgotten to fill up the big purple bottle affixed to the frame of your bike. After you spied his messy blonde hair and tall form through the windows, you’d approached the counter to ask if you could grab some water. Benny was more than happy to provide, and he also gave you a not-so subtle onceover as you leaned against a stool and chatted with him briefly. 

And thus began a bit of a ritual for the two of you, in which you made a habit of stopping in to visit Benny periodically when you were out riding your bike (always under the guise that you were in need of water—though he was polite enough not to point out the fact that there was a convenience store right down the road). He would in turn flirt with you like his life depended on it, and you’d deflect his compliments at every turn. 

Benny was tall, strong, ridiculously handsome, and he had an easy smile that attracted tips to his countertop like a goddamn magnet from women young and old. You had no doubts that Benny was used to flaunting his ability to charm any woman that caught his eye; you knew his type well. Which is why—despite the fact that part of you wanted to just let him take you out to the parking lot and fuck you senseless in the back seat of his car—you decided it was far more fun to see just how far you could push him first. And if you had to sometimes bike straight home after seeing him and immediately relieve the insistent throbbing of your hot core with the steady water pressure from your shower head? Well, it was all part of the game.

But now that you were stuck inside of the bar alone with him until the storm passed over, you weren’t sure how many more lingering glances you’d be able to weather with the sheer force of your sarcasm alone now that your normal escape route wasn’t an option. The thought sent a nervous thrill through you. 

Benny closed the lid on the ice box and sighed, coming around the bar and sitting down on the stool beside you. He spun around so that he was facing you, his knees brushing against yours. 

“Pope told me you scored three goals at your last game.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’d know if you came,” you said teasingly. 

Benny hopped back up, looking slightly embarrassed as he ambled in the direction of his office. When he returned, he was holding a mason jar with a few wilted sunflowers sitting in it. 

“These were supposed to be for you. I was literally getting ready to head over to the field, but then my closer called in sick at the last minute.” 

You tentatively took the vase, running a finger over one of the droopy, velvety petals, something inside of you stirring as it limply fell to the floor. 

Santi had been at the bar when you arrived one day last week, and the two of you had launched into a heated conversation about a trick play that you wanted to try out. Benny had tried piping in with his own suggestions, but being that he was more of a football and hockey kind of guy, his ideas weren’t even close to being feasible. One thing had led to another as the conversation went on, and you had eventually told Benny that he might as well just come to one of your games to get a better understanding of the sport if he actually wanted to help. 

You hadn’t actually thought that he would, though.

“You were going to bring these for me?” you asked dumbly, surprised by the gesture.

Benny grimaced, scratching the back of his head. “They looked nicer when they were alive.”

You were helpless to stop the smile that spread across your face. “Thank you. That was really sweet, even if you couldn’t make it.”

Surprised to hear the genuine tone of your voice, Benny met your smile with his own.

The two of you drifted into idle conversation as the storm raged on, only pausing when Benny realized that your bike was still sitting outside. Though you assured him repeatedly that it really wasn’t a big deal, he insisted on running out to bring it in. The decision was both a blessing and a curse, given the way his white t-shirt was soaked through when he returned. After leaning the bike against the wall beside the door, he pushed a hand through his wet hair and glanced over at you.

You failed to avert your gaze in time, and the corners of his lips raised in a grin as he called out, “Like what you see?”

No shit. Anyone with eyes would like to see a soaking wet Benny Miller. 

Biting down your honest response, you rolled your eyes—a gesture you readily had prepared in spades for him—and retorted, “You wish, Miller.”

He strode over to you with purpose, and your heart thundered in your chest as he leaned directly into your space, the earthy scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. Just as your brain began to frantically attempt to determine the best course of action to take, Benny rocked back on his heels and gave you a satisfied look as he held up the bottle of beer that he had been reaching for. 

“Are you sure about that?” he asked you slowly, blue eyes searching yours.

You ignored him and stood up, making your way around to the other side of the bar as you announced, “I need a drink.”

The vast assortment of bottles and other ingredients laid out on the counter made you realize that you weren’t actually sure what you intended to make. You reached for a glass—an old fashioned should be easy enough. Maybe. However, once you began adding bitters to the cup, you felt a presence at your shoulder.

“Need some help?”

“I know what I’m doing,” you lied—you had but a faint idea.

Benny’s eyes trailed to the orange peel that you had set aside and the bottle of whiskey sitting nearby. “You’re not drinking that shitty ass bourbon. Here.”

You scoffed as he reached for another bottle up on the top shelf, nudging away the one that you had intended to use. However, before you could continue assembling the cocktail, you felt the warmth of Benny’s body as he came up from behind and stood nearly flush against you. He caged you in with his arms, hands deftly reaching for the rest of the ingredients.

“Hey, I could have done it,” you protested weakly, your voice wavering slightly.

“Now what kind of bartender would I be if I let a gorgeous girl like you make her own drink?” 

Whatever unformulated response your brain was working overtime to produce died on your lips as Benny leaned over your shoulder and brought the orange peel to his lips, tearing it in half with his teeth and dropping a more reasonably sized piece into the finished drink. 

Fuck it.

Before you could change your mind, you finally gave in to the burning urge that had been consuming you. Leaning backward, you closed the scant distance that remained between your bodies. Benny stiffened behind you, prompting you to rest the back of your head against his collarbone, and you heard his sharp intake of breath. He curled a large hand around your hip and nuzzled his nose into your hair, your name leaving his lips in a hushed whisper. You turned your head sideways, letting your nose brush against his neck, entirely unbothered by the dampness of his shirt that was now soaking into your own.  

A callused hand reached up to caress your neck as he gently ghosted his lips along the side of your neck. You shuddered, letting your weight entirely fall against him, and he held you upright as he drug his teeth down the shell of your ear and nipped at your earlobe. Bringing a hand up to rake through his hair, you arched your back into him, and warmth pooled in your gut when you felt something pressing against your backside through the confines of his jeans.

“Benny,” you panted.

Benny’s grip on your hips tightened, and his thumbs brushed the bare sliver of skin above the waistband of your shorts where your tank top had ridden up. Unable to hold back from doing so, you ground your ass back against him and shifted your head to press a kiss to his neck. 

He choked out a moan in response and muttered, “Fuck,” as he leaned back in to drag a trail of hot, hungry kisses up your neck, stopping to focus his attention on lavishing the corner of your jaw. 

Turning your body in Benny’s arms, you shifted so that you were facing him. You pressed your forehead against his chest, not quite ready to meet the heated gaze that you knew was in his eyes, and both of you breathed heavily into the silence. After a few beats, Benny eventually lifted a hand and tipped your chin upward, and you were swiftly pulled out to sea by a searing tide of yearning. You were done fighting against the current.

“Hi,” he said softly, eyes dancing with mirth and desire. 

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. “Hey.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, sliding your noses together, and his breath fanned against your lips as he asked, “Are we done with this game now, honey?”

“Depends on how good this drink is,” you said casually as you reached out a hand to grab your glass, sounding far more calm than you felt on the inside. 

Before you could bring it to your lips, Benny swiped it from you. You opened your mouth to protest as he took a sip, and he brought a hand up to cup your chin again, brushing his thumb across your mouth. 

He pressed down on your plump bottom lip and calmly but firmly murmured in his deep drawl, “Open.”

Oh.

Warmth licked its way through your body at the command, and despite your natural predisposition to argue just for the sake of riling Benny up, his lustful, smoldering gaze made you desperate to submit. You let your mouth fall open, and his hand drifted down to lightly grasp at your throat, which drew an involuntary whine out of you. He tightened his grip, and you pressed down against his thigh, which he had at some point slotted between your legs. You groaned as you felt the rough material of his jeans rub against your cotton underwear through your thin athletic shorts. 

And then Benny took another pull from the glass and leaned down, spitting the drink directly into your open mouth.

You hadn’t walked in here today imagining that you’d be dripping with arousal from Benny Miller choking you and spitting whiskey into your mouth, but here you were, dizzily dragging your cunt across his muscled thigh as you swallowed every last drop.  

“Look at you, beautiful. You’re such a fuckin’ good girl,” Benny crooned. 

You keened at the praise, letting your head tip backward again. 

Benny raised his eyebrows. “More?”

You nodded, too gone to give a shit at this point, and Benny flexed his fingers against your throat before leaning in to kiss you. The taste of citrus lingered on his lips, which enveloped yours as he briefly licked into your mouth before pulling away to take another sip from the glass. You relaxed your jaw, and Benny spit another mouthful of the drink past your waiting lips, immediately swooping in to capture them afterward in a needy, bruising kiss as you swallowed the liquid again.

Both of your hands threaded into Benny’s hair as his own trailed up your thighs, fingers sliding up the loose hem of your shorts and coming up through the waistband at the top. You moaned into his mouth and began to desperately rut against his thigh. 

Beads of sweat began to gather at the base of your neck, the air conditioning a lost cause thanks to the power outage, prompting you to reach down and slip off your tank top. An appreciative sound left Benny’s mouth as his eyes raked over the swell of your breasts in the low scoop of your black sports bra, which he reached up to palm with one of his hands, brushing a thumb over one of your peaked nipples. You reached forward to pull off his shirt as well, dropping the wet fabric to the floor and leaning forward to press open-mouthed kisses to his toned chest. 

“Been thinkin’ about what this pretty pussy of yours would feel like,” Benny drawled in a husky tone. With the hand still up your shorts, he drug a finger down the center of your damp underwear.

“I think about what your fingers would feel like instead of mine,” you admitted.

Benny pulled aside your underwear with his thumb, groaning when he swiped his middle finger down the center of your folds. 

“Fuck, honey. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

He slid one finger inside of you and leaned in to swallow your gasp of pleasure in a heated kiss. You went pliant in his arms as he curled his tongue around yours and slipped a second finger into your entrance, pumping in and out of you at a controlled pace. 

“Benny,” you whined, bucking into his hand, desperate for more. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Benny inquired as he crooked his fingers inside of your throbbing cunt. 

“M-more,” you bit out as you stretched onto your tiptoes.

He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before sliding his fingers out of you. Far too turned on to be ashamed, a needy whine escaped you, and Benny smirked as he licked your sticky arousal off of his fingers. Thankfully, before you were reduced to begging, he swiftly lifted you up to sit on the counter and pulled off your shorts and underwear.

You had but a moment to shiver at the feeling of the cool metal on your skin before Benny pulled you forward and pushed your thighs apart, nestling his face between your legs. Benny Miller certainly had a mouth on him, but he sure as shit knew how to use it. The moment his dexterous tongue began its hungry assault on your folds, you were a fucking goner. He probed at your entrance, slipping his tongue inside of your dripping wet hole, and your body blazed with a wildfire of pleasure. 

You tightly gripped the edges of the counter as Benny ate you out, plunging his tongue in and out of your cunt, sucking on your clit, and lapping up the arousal that continued to drip out of you. Distantly, you thought that you had never been so goddamn wet in your entire life. 

Benny pulled one hand away from the possessive grip he had your ass clutched in to start rubbing tight circles over your clit. Your legs began to tremble as a heavy wave of pleasure thundered through you, building up into a delicious crest under the attentive ministrations of Benny’s tongue. With one last prod into your hole and flick of pressure over your swollen bud, the fiery ache in your cunt poured out in a gushing release of cum and a spray of clear liquid. 

Your cheeks burned as you realized what had happened. You’d never even come close to squirting before. “Oh…” you trailed off in a squeak of embarrassment.

But Benny’s pupils were blown wide with arousal as he finished licking up the cum that was dribbling out of your cunt and onto the counter below.

He stood up, petting your hair and cradling your face in his hands as he said firmly, “No, baby. No. That was so fucking hot,” before pressing a kiss to your lips.

Reaching up to stop him before he could pull away, you surged forward, entirely unbothered by the taste of yourself on his tongue. Benny groaned into your mouth, and you deepened the kiss with fervor, drunk on the way his lips felt as they slid against yours. Why the fuck had you waited so long to do this?

Eager to finally feel what had been pressing up against you before, you reached down to undo Benny’s belt and the button on his jeans. He bit your bottom lip and sucked it between his teeth as you slid his zipper down, breath hitching in pleasure as you snaked a hand down into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his length. Reignited embers began to burn inside of your abdomen as you pulled his rock hard erection out, and your wet hole fluttered with a pulse of anticipation when you took in the sheer size of his cock. 

You’d be the first to admit that you had never quite taken pleasure in performing oral sex on a man, though your previous sexual partners had also never really been anything to write home about. But after the way that Benny had devoured your pussy like his life depended on it, you were nearly salivating at the thought of taking his cock into your mouth. The thought of sucking him off and drawing deep, husky moans of pleasure from his mouth until he shot his cum down your throat had a new slick of arousal soaking your underwear. 

Placing a hand against Benny’s chest, you gently pushed him backward, hopped down from the counter, and kneeled on the floor in front of him. He nudged his forgotten shirt toward you with the toe of his shoes, urging you to put it under your knees. You fondly rolled your eyes at the gesture, leaning back for a moment to comply. Satisfied that you were a bit more comfortable, Benny traced a thumb over your cheek as you wrapped a hand around his length and ran your tongue along the head. Slowly, you began to take him into your mouth inch by inch, relaxing your jaw as you cupped his balls. 

“Jesus Christ,” Benny panted out as he leaned forward and gripped the edge of the counter with one hand.

You bobbed on his stiff shaft, which was now slick with a coating of your saliva, and pumped at what you couldn’t swallow in your mouth with a tight fist at the base. Achingly turned on by the way his thighs shook as he moaned and the enjoyable prick of pain you experienced when he unconsciously tightened his grip on your hair, you could feel your own arousal sliding down your thighs. Your rhythm grew sloppy whilst you took him deeper, willing how unbearably horny you were to override your gag reflex as you purposely choked yourself on his cock. 

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” Benny said roughly. 

You held fast, and Benny’s hips stuttered as his orgasm hit him, thick spurts of sticky cum pouring into your mouth and sliding down your throat. Swallowing it eagerly, you waited until he finished to lick his cock clean. You went to glance up at him, but Benny was already bending down, lifting you up into his arms. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he backed you up into a wall, crashing his lips against yours. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get enough of you,” he breathed out in between insistent kisses.

Perhaps your theatrical delay of the inevitable was merely an unknowing act of self-preservation, because you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of him, either.

“Take whatever you want,” you replied.

He carried you into his office, shutting the door behind you with his foot as if a customer was possibly going to take it upon themselves to venture into Taps for a pint in the middle of a fucking tropical storm. As if he hadn’t already just made a cum and spit cocktail out of your pussy right there on the bar counter where anyone could have seen. 

After using one hand to unceremoniously shove his pens and paperwork to the floor in a fluttering clatter of noise, Benny placed you down on the edge of his desk and came to stand in between your legs. As Benny’s dick worked its way back to attention for another lap, the two of you lazily made out. Realizing that you had yet to remove your bra, you tugged it off, and Benny’s mouth immediately latched onto your tits. He greedily lapped and sucked at your nipples until his overwhelming need to tangle your tongues together in another blistering kiss won out. 

Benny couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and he studiously mapped out each and every nook and cranny of your naked body that his fingers could reach while alternating his mouth’s attention between your lips and your swollen breasts. 

“Can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve thought about bringing you in here like this, if only you’d let me,” Benny spoke against your lips.

“I’ve thought about you fucking me on every surface under this roof,” you whispered before licking your way back into his mouth.

Benny’s thumb pressed firmly into your collarbone as he leaned down to nip at your neck, biting and sucking at the juncture where it met your shoulder.

You continued, “But the thought that makes me come the hardest is imagining you bending me over this desk and fucking me until I cry.”

Benny went still, raising his head to look you in the eyes and see just how serious you were. You raised an eyebrow and nodded, and he raked a hand through his hair, offering you a lopsided grin in return. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He let loose a huff of air, stepping backward and making his way around to the other side of the desk to pull his wallet out of the top drawer, only to frown when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Though you were both flattered and relieved that he had the forethought to grab a condom, you assured him that things were both safe and clear on your end as long as he was clean as well. 

And thus you found yourself bent over the desk in your favorite bartender’s office, breathy moans falling from your lips in a symphony of pleasure as Benny nudged your legs apart with his foot and slid his hard cock through your dripping wet folds.

“So fuckin’ wet for me again, baby. You’re dripping all over my floor.”

You pressed back against Benny, and the head of his cock notched against your damp entrance. 

“Please fuck me already, Benny. Wanna feel your cock inside of me so bad,” you whined.

Benny grunted, slowly beginning to ease his thick length into your waiting hole, which burned as it stretched open to accommodate his size. Head clouded by the sheer force of your arousal, you roughly rocked back onto him, effectively impaling yourself on his cock. You both cried out at the same time as he gripped you tightly and held you flush against him, his tight balls pressing against you as he bottomed out in your cunt.

“Are you okay?” Benny’s voice was rough as he spoke into your ear.

You were more than okay. You were less than two minutes into what was arguably already the best sex of your life, and all you could think about was desperately hoping that Benny was going to take you up on his offer to fuck you on every other surface inside of Taps as well. Today, preferably. And so you told him as much, which spurred him to begin rutting into you with fervor as he promised to do exactly that and then some. 

Benny nudged your head to turn to the side so that he could lock your lips together in a mess of saliva as he sunk his cock into your weeping cunt, dragging moan after keening moan of unabashed pleasure from your mouth with each push and drag against your clenching walls. He alternated between eager thrusts and slow dips in and out of you, pausing at times to simply leave his dick buried inside of you as he kissed you deeply again and again. In all of your fantasies about Benny, you hadn’t expected the sheer amount of intimacy he laced each and every thrust, kiss, and touch with, and it made your heart flutter uncontrollably.  

At one point, Benny stood up, running his hands along your ass cheeks. You glanced back at him, holding his heavy gaze as he experimentally tapped against one cheek lightly with the palm of his hand. Your nod was all the permission that he required to do it again with slightly more force behind it.

“Harder,” you urged him.

Benny slid his cock in and out of you as he spanked your ass, which began to redden with each slap. He paused after each one, waiting for you to glance back at him to assure him you were still okay. When he finally hit you hard enough that tears began to prick at the corner of your eyes, you saw a flash of panic cross his face, but you urged him to continue.

You had no doubts that Benny Miller was both an incredibly soft yet deliciously rough lover—but right now, you needed a taste of the latter, because you were too goddamn keyed up from months of sexual frustration at the mere thought of his stupidly handsome face. 

And so Benny continued, moaning with you as your cunt clenched down on his cock at the pleasurable stings of pain your body was singing with. 

Eventually, the spanking slowed to a stop, and Benny gently ran his hands over your ass cheeks  and began to softly knead at the sensitive skin, massaging them, and you whined in pleasure. As one of his hands slipped down toward your crack, the unintentional drag of his thumb over your other tight, waiting hole left you keening—a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed. 

He did it again, and you rocked backward, craving a deeper touch. Benny made an appreciative noise as he spread your cheeks apart and spit directly onto your asshole. You nearly choked on your own spit when you felt the pads of his fingers teasing your rim, using the glob of spit to lubricate your hole. After a few moments, he slipped a finger into your ass as he continued to thrust his cock in and out of your cunt.

Knuckles aching from the strength with which you were gripping the edges of his desk, pleas for more left your mouth, prompting Benny to slide a second finger into your asshole, shortly followed by a third as he worked you open.

As he fingered your ass, Benny plunged his cock into your dripping wet, fucked out cunt so hard the desk began to skid forward across the room, and a picture frame went flying to the floor. 

“You feel so fucking good, honey,” Benny brokenly moaned out.

Hearing Benny’s wrecked tone was your undoing. Your pleasure tore through you with a leg-quivering orgasm that left your body limp as your cum soaked Benny’s cock, further lubricating his assault on your slippery channel. 

“I want you to come in me,” you panted out as you felt his thrusts begin to grow sloppy and desperate with the rapid approach of his climax.

You both cried out in unison as Benny’s throbbing length began to spurt ropes of cum deep into your cunt, and you reached backward to grip his thighs and hold him tightly inside of you.

“Fuck, I can’t stop,” Benny moaned as cum continued to pump out of his dick, and when he shifted slightly, it began to drip out of your overfilled pussy and onto the floor.

“Come in my ass, too, then.”

“Oh fuck.” Quickly pulling his cum-soaked length out of you while it was still just hard enough to stuff into your other tight hole, Benny plunged his cock into your ass without hesitation. 

“Holy shit, baby,” Benny moaned as you eagerly pushed him even deeper inside of you, too cock drunk and desperate to get fucked in the ass to care about him taking his time. 

A roaring downpour of pleasure thundered through every inch of your body as Benny buried his cock in your tight hole, dumping a flood of cum into your ass, and another orgasm punched out of you without warning. He held you tightly against him until you had milked his weeping shaft for every last drop of his sticky seed. 

Embracing you from behind, the two of you laid against the desk for several minutes, breathing heavily as his softening cock slowly slipped out of you. Pools of cum began to drip out of both of your holes, a mixture of both yours and his, and Benny leaned down to lap at your folds. 

After a few moments, you began to squirm from the overstimulation, and Benny darted his tongue out to prod into your mound one more time before stopping and standing up. He flipped you over and pulled you to your feet, and you didn’t hesitate to lean in and meet him with a deep, languid kiss. 

When you paused for air, Benny ran a hand down the side of your face and left his thumb to rest under your chin as he looked into your eyes. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“Good, because neither do I,” you told him.

A brilliant smile lit up Benny’s face as he pressed another kiss to your lips, but before either of you could say anything else, a loud banging noise from outside of the office startled you both. 

Santiago’s familiar voice rang out from the front entrance as he yelled, “BENNY! You alive? Frankie thought it was a good idea to go fishing today. Boat fuckin’ capsized, think I swallowed a squid…”

Benny groaned and turned his head to make sure the door to the office was fully shut. You bit your lip and laughed, realizing that most of your clothes had been left behind in a careless trail of eagerness behind the bar. 

“Shit,” Benny muttered.

Which is how your spontaneous tropical storm rendezvous with Benny was then revealed by way of the ridiculously oversized Taps t-shirt you had no choice but to stride out of his office wearing. Benny followed behind you in a matching shirt. 

Santi and Frankie were both already seated at the bar, dripping wet and disheveled, and their heads shot up when they heard two pairs of footsteps approaching. 

“Weird day to start training a new hire, Benny,” Santiago remarked casually as he looked over at you with a grin. 

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always welcome and appreciated!

» BENNY MILLER MASTERLIST

#Triple Frontier fanfic #Triple Frontier fanfiction #Triple Frontier #Benny Miller #Benjamin Miller #Ben Miller #Benny Miller x Reader #Ben Miller x Reader #Benny Miller fanfiction #Benny Miller smut #Garrett Hedlund #Garrett Hedlund fanfiction

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Sheer Desire

A/N: So this was definitely not planned to be the first thing I post in the new year. In fact, it started as a kinktober prompt (stockings & lingerie) that got sidelined and seemed to double like bread dough while I wasn’t looking. I wanted to finish up the last few holiday-ish things that I had planned and get them up this week... but Frankie had other plans. And who tf am I to stop him? This follows along with the other Frankie x Reader pieces I’ve written, but can also be read as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy!! 

WC: 8.7k 

Warnings: language, smut, Francisco Morales’ mouth ;) 

Summary: You and Frankie attend Benny’s wedding together, and he struggles to keep his hands to himself the whole night. Until he doesn’t have to. That’s it, that’s the fic. 

Look at that. Seven whole minutes to spare. 

Blowing out a relieved breath, you pulled into one of the few remaining spots in the area of the hotel lot cordoned off for event parking, the signs reading Welcome to the wedding of Alana Ruiz & Benjamin Miller in gold script. You knew you’d be cutting it close, working an open shift at the bar and then racing home to clean up, change and grab your things for the weekend before hitting the road and making the two and a half hour drive down to Marco Island, but there hadn’t been another option. It was the first major event that Frankie had invited you to since you’d taken the next step in your relationship, so you’d done what you had to to make it work. I’m just glad I’m not late. 

Picking up your phone from the cup holder, you sent a quick text to let Frankie know that you’d made it. He and the rest of the wedding party had gotten there the night before for the rehearsal dinner, and he had been checking in with you every few hours throughout the day to make sure that nothing had changed as far as your ETA. You knew that it was partially because of his military background, wanting to make sure that things were running according to plan. But as you scrolled through the messages he’d sent, you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips. But it's also because he’s excited. 

Your smile grew as you set the device back in the cupholder and reached down to slide off the flip flops you’d worn to drive in. Tossing them to the floor on the passenger side, you grabbed the pair of sheer black stockings that you’d shoved in your purse on your way out the door. You’d been unsure if you wanted to wear them, and you didn’t have time to decide before you left. But as soon as they were in your hand, you pictured the way they would look balled up in Frankie’s grip later in the night, and the fire that flared in you at that image made the decision for you. 

Taking a few seconds, you rolled them up your legs and then shoved your feet into the pair of low wedge heels you’d chosen for the night. You checked your reflection in the visor mirror, touching up your lipstick with the tip of your pinky finger. Okay, good to go. You took a breath, and then you took your phone and purse and hurried towards the walkway that led to where the rows of chairs were set up overlooking the water. Here I come, Frankie. 

– – – 

The ceremony was beautiful. It had been timed almost perfectly so that the sunset painted the Gulf in shades of rosy copper and ripples of indigo, the shadowy silhouettes of palm trees acting as a backdrop for the I do’s. Benny and Alana had chosen to write their own vows, and Alana’s brother had been the one to officiate, so it had been intimate and personal, the love and happiness between the two of them absolutely tangible. 

As was the feeling of Frankie’s eyes on you from his place between Will and Pope on Benny’s right. All three of them looked fantastic in the brown suits that they wore, but your focus was only on the man in the middle. Damn, Morales. 

You locked your gaze with his and smiled, mouthing the word hi. Your lower lip slipped between your teeth at the way he lifted his hand away from his leg just enough to give you a covert wave. Oh, look at him. His cheek rose in a lopsided grin that only made him more attractive - especially when you noticed his dimple peeking through one of the patches in his beard. 

You’d been falling in love with Frankie for months, finding yourself a little deeper in it every day. But you took a steep tumble that night. 

And though you had ended up spending most of the cocktail hour on your own, Frankie and the others wrapped up in greeting guests and taking pictures, when he finally did get his arms around you, you felt that he was already there, ready to catch you. Ready to dive in even further with you.

“Hey,” he said, his hands finding their way to your waist as soon as you were in reach, his lips seeking yours the second the single syllable left them. “Missed you.” His fingers flexed in the satin of your dress as he kissed you again, this time slower and longer, one hand rising up to cup the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, your smile pushing your cheek against his palm. “Glad you’re here.” 

“Hey yourself, Frankie.” Your left hand slid inside his jacket, smoothing over his side and around to press flat against his broad back. None of the groomsmen wore ties, so the fingers of your right hand curled around his lapel, that forearm resting against his chest. “Missed you, too.” You smiled against his lips as you continued to kiss him.  

As soon as he felt your lips part, his tongue slipped into your mouth to glide atop yours, stealing your breath, and then he was pulling back and bumping the tip of your nose with his. “You are so damn beautiful.” Both hands settled at your waist again as his eyes swept up and down your frame, noticing the way your dress hung on your hips to flare slightly at your knees, appreciating the low cut of the neckline and the small triangular cutout that was just visible under the knotted tie that embellished the top. And then he noticed your legs and the way they looked encased in sheer black nylon, so thin it was barely there at all, and he groaned. “Gonna have a hard time keeping my hands to myself for the next few hours.” 

That makes two of us. “You know, you clean up pretty well yourself, Morales. It’s not gonna be easy for me, either.” The hand that you had on his back came to join the other, gripping both lapels and tugging on them. You let out a small laugh, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “Guess it's a good thing we’re staying here then, huh?” Opening your eyes again, you arched one brow and smirked at him. “Two and a half hours isn’t a short drive and-” 

He cut you off then, eyes darkening as they narrowed slightly but never left yours. “If we were driving home tonight? I wouldn’t wait.” There was a raspy quality to his voice that wiped the teasing grin right off of your face as you realized what he meant. He had driven down with Pope the night before so that he could drive home with you, so you’d be in the same car. Oh, fuck. Your heart thudded hard, and you felt your eyes go wide as he leaned in to finish telling you what would happen on the ride home if you didn’t have a room for the weekend. “I can drive with my left hand, and the right one can-” 

Just then you heard your name being called from somewhere behind you. Frankie winked and let the rest of his words hang, knowing that you knew damn well what his free hand would be doing in that scenario. Oh, you are gonna be trouble tonight, Francisco. Tearing your eyes away from him, you looked up to see Pope walking over, his arm wrapped around the waist of a stunning brunette in a burgundy dress. Wait a minute, is that…

You glanced back up at Frankie, a smile spreading across your lips. “Is that Yovanna? I thought Pope said she couldn’t make it!”

“Yeah.” He nodded as you released the collar of his jacket, arms going back to your sides after reaching across your chest to secure the strap of your purse on your shoulder. “She flew in this morning to surprise him.” His chuckle turned his eyes light and warm again as his hands left your body, too, and it was clear to see how glad he was about his friend’s happiness. Good. He deserves it. They all do. 

Your eyebrows flew up. “Wow, that’s a hell of a surprise. I bet he was excited.” 

“He was. Shoulda seen his face when she called from the airport.” Frankie leaned down to drop a kiss to your temple as the other couple came within a few strides of where you stood. “Surprises are nice,” he whispered in your ear. “But I liked knowing you were gonna be here.” I did, too.

Pope reached for you then, giving you a hug and introducing you to the woman you’d heard so much about but had yet to meet, and then the four of you went to catch up with Will at the bar, Frankie’s fingers laced with yours as you walked. Your group was joined by the two bridesmaids that had walked down the aisle with Will, both women eyeing the older Miller brother. His and Benny’s cousin Mark was supposed to have been the fourth groomsman, but he’d broken his leg in three places just a few weeks out from the wedding and was in a full hip to toe fiberglass cast. To keep anyone from having to walk alone, Will had been assigned both of Alana’s college roommates - who also happened to be the only two of the four bridesmaids that were single - and it seemed as though neither of them cared that he had his arms around them both. Oh, this is going to be a fun night. You grinned as you finished your drink, an autumn evening breeze sweeping through the courtyard. 

–  –  –

It hadn’t dawned on you that you and Frankie had never danced together until the DJ opened the floor for all couples to join the bride and groom. 

When else would we have, though?     

Despite all the milestones and things you had shared since things had become more serious, and even though there were definitely more important and significant bridges to cross in the future, the feeling that you got when he led you out amongst the sea of couples was one of pure elation. It swirled in your chest, and if it weren’t for the way his arms kept you grounded as he took you in his hold, you would have thought it possible for you to float away. Doing new things with him - even something as normal as dancing together at a friend’s wedding - made you realize that you wanted to do everything with him. 

Frankie clasped your hand in his and brought it to his chest, his other hand sliding south into the dip at the base of your spine. With his next swaying step he pressed you closer, shrinking the space between your bodies until you could feel each breath that filled his lungs and the way that his heart beat didn’t match the slow cadence of the song that you were dancing to. Mine doesn’t either, though. 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in through your nose, the arm you had around his torso tightening to mirror the hold he had on you. Frankie’s cologne - mixed with the scent of the smoky whiskey he drank at the cocktail hour - nearly overwhelmed your senses as you laid your head against his shoulder, your head spinning as you let your breath back out. He smells so damn good. The slow sweep of his thumb up and down your back sent a tingle through your bloodstream that only intensified when you felt his lips brush your forehead, where he left a featherlight kiss and two whispered words. 

“Thank you.” 

Eyes opening, you squeezed his hand and picked your head up to meet his gaze. Despite the fact that the dance floor was packed with couples - the two of you had bumped shoulders with Pope and Yovanna on one side, and the newly minted Millers on the other - he was all you could see. And he’s all I want. You smiled, head tilted to one side as you blinked at him. “For what?” 

Raising your joined hands to his lips, he kissed your curled fingers before returning them to where they were. “For this. Tonight. Being my date.” He swallowed, your eyes flicking down to track the movement of his throat before coming back up to his face. “For showing up for me.” 

“Frankie,” you spoke his name softly, leaning in to nuzzle the ridge of your nose against the line of his jaw, his normal scruff cropped closer to his face for the occasion but still long enough for you to feel it. I’ll always show up for you, Francisco Morales. As long as you want me to. 

“For everything.” He sighed, flexing the fingers of his right hand against your back, the tips pushing into the material of your dress and your flesh beneath it. There was no space left between you to eliminate, but that didn’t seem to matter to him as he urged you closer. “I don’t thank you enough.” 

You closed your eyes and let him tuck you into his chest as the song continued, his arm wrapping more tightly around you. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, making it easy for you to press your lips to his neck. His skin was warm where you kissed him, and you trailed a few more small kisses up towards his ear, the soft curls behind it tickling your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Frankie,” you whispered. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

“I do, though.” He surprised you then, picking up the hand that was twined with yours and looping it around you at the same time that he used the one resting on your spine to turn you. Oh, alright. You gasped, the sound becoming a small laugh and then a warm hum as his arms resettled around your waist with yours crossed over one another, your back to his front and his chin over your shoulder. “And when we get up to our room later?” He curved his free hand around your hip and pulled you to him, so that his next two words could only be taken one way. “I will.”

A shiver ran from the shell of your ear down to your toes, your body responding by sending waves of heat to crash through your lower belly. Fuck, Frankie. He waited a few beats before turning you back to your original hold, and you were grateful for the time to get your suddenly racing heart somewhat under control. When you were face to face again, you opened your eyes to see just a touch of smugness in his grin. Because you know just what you’re doing, don’t you? The sincerity of what he’d been saying just before he set you ablaze, though, was still the most prominent thing you saw in his expression. 

“Oh yeah?” You freed your hand from his and brought it up to his forehead to push a rogue curl back into place. It slipped stubbornly down again with his nod and you let it, your palm resting on his shoulder momentarily. “Well I like the sound of that, Frankie.” 

His eyes flashed, and it didn’t matter that the courtyard was strung with small bulbs of golden light or that beyond them, the whole night sky was on display. That look…  His hand came up to his shoulder to scoop yours into it again, his thumb pressing into the cup of your palm before his fingers curled over your knuckles. “Good.” You could tell that the song you were dancing to was ending, and you knew that meant that in just a few moments you’d be seated at your table. But it seemed Frankie wasn’t done stirring things in you just to let them simmer for the next few hours. As the music began to fade out, he pulled you close and made sure that no one else could hear. “I like your sounds.” He nipped at your earlobe and you had to swallow a whimper. “Wanna hear ‘em all tonight.”  

Oh, don’t worry, you’re going to. 

You knew that wasn’t going to be an issue. Because of the way that you had to move your schedule around to take off the rest of the weekend and the following Monday, and since Frankie had Oliver the previous week, the two of you hadn’t spent the night together in a little over fourteen days. But now we’ve got three in a row. Just us. Before you could respond to what he’d said though, the DJ was thanking everyone for joining Benny and Alana for their first dance and asking that you all be seated for the toasts. Biting your lower lip in lieu of an answer, you shook your head as Frankie winked at you, and then you let him lead you to your table. 

Pope and Yovanna were already back, along with two of the bridesmaids and their spouses, but you passed Will as he made his way in the opposite direction, where the other two bridesmaids stood ready to start the toasts. You mouthed a “good luck” to him, the man giving you a bright grin as Frankie clapped him on the shoulder and mumbled, “Don’t fuck up, Ironhead.”  

“Yeah, fuck you too, Fish,” Will shot back under his breath as he elbowed Frankie, who snorted. 

The interaction was entirely commonplace for their group of friends, and it made you happy to know that after everything that the four of them had gone through together - some of which you understood that you might never know - they’d always have each other’s backs, always be there for one another during their best and worst times. You leaned into Frankie, your bare arm pressed to the sleeve of his jacket. And this is one of the good times. 

Turning your head, you kissed his bicep and hoped for nothing but good times for a long time. 

He pulled out a chair for you and you sank into it as he sat in the one next to it, listening intently as Will delivered a heartfelt toast to his little brother and new sister-in-law. Ending it by raising his glass, Will asked that everyone do the same. After listening to the things he said - about love, trust, growth and support, and how the best relationships, like Benny and Alana’s, had all of those things - you weren’t surprised to find that your eyes were damp as you took a sip of champagne. 

Because… You swallowed, watery eyes shifting to the man beside you. Because so do we. Clearing your throat, you swallowed again, though this time it was a lump of emotion instead of a bubbly beverage. “Will’s too good at public speaking.” You sniffed, leaning over towards Frankie, indicating the tears shining in your eyes.

He let out a small laugh, but you could see that the speech had struck a chord with him as well.  “He is,” Frankie agreed, reaching over to brush away some of the wetness you missed on your cheek. 

Will was finishing up by wrapping Benny and Alana in a hug, and then he handed the microphone over to the two women who were making a toast together, before making his way back to your group. You set your glass back down as you felt Frankie’s hand cover your knee under the table. He’d gathered the skirt of your dress up, pushing it aside so that his thumb could slowly stroke over the sheer material stretched over your legs, and though you were still thinking about what Will had just said, you were immediately distracted by what Frankie was doing. The way that his touch roved inward and higher up your thigh sent a fresh flood of heat into your belly, his warm exhale against your skin as he leaned close to whisper to you while Alana’s maid of honor continued her part of the speech only making it that much more difficult to pay attention.  

“I know I said it already but.. you look incredible tonight.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You always do.’ Before you could respond, he lightly squeezed your leg, fingers tightening just above your knee before spreading out over the thin barrier between his flesh and yours. “These things are drivin’ me crazy, though.” He dug his fingertips in just enough to test the elasticity, letting out a quiet but throaty sigh as he relaxed his grip again. The sound made your eyes snap up to meet his, their depths darkened by his next few words. Oh, shit.  “I wanna see them. But I also can’t wait to get them off you.” 

The space around you broke out in good-natured laughter at something that Megan said in her toast, but you had no idea what it was because at that exact moment, Frankie’s hand slid higher up your leg - high enough for him to realize that it wasn’t a pair of regular pantyhose that you were wearing. They were thigh high stockings, topped with delicate black lace that hugged your legs. His eyes widened, a bolt of desire crashing through them that you swore you could feel. 

Because that means… “You can take them off, Frankie.” You sucked in a breath as his thumbnail lightly scraped over the embellished top and onto your skin before sliding beneath the elastic, your heart hammering. “But you don’t have to.” 

He stared at you then, his whole chest expanding with his inhale, and even though you were having a great time celebrating the new Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you couldn’t wait to get up to your hotel room so you could let that spark catch and consume you. Can’t leave yet though. 

“Oh, I will.” He arched one brow, gently pressing the thumb that was still beneath your stocking into the flesh of your thigh. “Eventually.” 

That time when the toast ended and you were supposed to drink to the newlyweds, neither of you had your glass in hand. You hadn’t even noticed the cheers and applause, the flashes of photos being taken. Instead, you stared at the flick of Frankie’s tongue as it poked between his lips to wet them, and you knew he was watching the way your breastbone rose and sank with your stunted breaths at the suggestions you both were making. 

I- we can’t… Not yet, it just… There were still hours left in the evening - dinner and dancing and celebrating and cake and pictures and… And he’s in the wedding party. He can’t disappear this early.  “Jesus, Frankie, the night just started and-”  

He withdrew his hand then, a devilish grin softening into something more teasing. “I know. Like I said…” He winked, lips twitching into a full on smile before pressing together as he nodded. “Eventually.” 

Oh, wearing these was definitely the right call. 

–  –  – 

A few hours - and several more less than subtle hints from both of you - later, your cheeks were sore from laughing and smiling. The party was starting to wind down, the clock ticking towards the end of the night, when you felt Frankie’s grip squeeze your leg under the table again. “Gonna go get one more drink from the bar.” He cocked his head to the side. “And then we can…” He let his sentence trail off, raising one eyebrow and slipping his thumb under the lacy elastic band around your thigh. “How’s that sound?” 

You sucked in a breath, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, leaning in to press his nose against your cheek, lips close to your ear. “Sounds.” Oh, fuck. “Be right back.”

With that he stood, following Pope and Will over to the bar. Yovanna had excused herself to use the restroom, so you were left alone at the table, your stomach swooping and your heart pounding. Your mind filled once more with the image that inspired your fashion choice for the night - Frankie’s thick, strong, rough fingers clutching the delicate sheers after removing them from your body - and you felt a ripple of excitement at how close you were to seeing it come true. Soon. So soon. He’s gonna come back and then- 

And then you snapped your head up as Benny’s voice hit your ear, the man grinning as he waved around the glass in his hand and made his way to your table. He was clearly drunk - but happily and pleasantly so, a slight stumble to his swagger but not at all inappropriate for a groom at his own wedding. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.  Pressing pause on the thoughts that were just about to run rampant as you stared dazedly out at the darkened beach beyond the dunes, you broke into a genuine smile of your own as he got closer. 

“Hey, Benny,” you pulled out the chair next to you, indicating that he could sit. “You just missed the guys, they went over to the-” 

The single cube of ice in his glass knocked against the side of it as he took a big swig of his beverage. Eyebrows gathered and forehead rumpled, he held up his free hand and mumbled an un-uh, shaking his head as he swallowed. “Nope, I came over to talk to you.” 

You laughed and cocked your head to the side. “Oh, yeah?”  

 “Yeah. Listen, I just-” He swung himself into the empty seat next to you with a sigh, setting his glass down next to Frankie’s discarded silverware. “I’m sorry Alana didn’t wanna do the whole,” he brought both hands in front of himself and mimed an over the shoulder throwing motion before continuing. “The whole toss the flowers thing.” The movement caused his whole body to tip to one side, both of your hands reaching out to stop him from falling off his seat. Though I don’t know if it would do anything. Luckily your help wasn’t necessary, Benny righting himself by gripping the table and shifting his weight. He closed one eye in an exaggerated wink and pointed at you with a grin. “Woulda put my money on you catchin’ it, and then…” He jerked his head towards the bar and waited for you to look over.

Though you already knew what you would see when you did, you still sucked in a breath at the sight of him, warmth spreading over your cheeks, and bursting in your chest. He’s… oh, look at him. Frankie stood waiting for drinks with Pope and Will, a deeply genuine laugh brightening his features as he jokingly smacked Pope’s shoulder, Will doubled over in laughter as well. It made you happy, seeing him like that, and you watched the three of them - focusing on Frankie - with a smile on your lips for a few more seconds before you turned back to face Benny. 

Suddenly, the meaning behind his words clicked, and you laughed, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine, Benny. It’s an outdated tradition anyway, and it takes time away from other things li-” 

He blew a breath out through his lips, cutting you off with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “No, but it's…” Your eyes widened in amusement as his flitted over your shoulder and brightened as he grinned. What is he doing? You didn’t need to wait long for your answer though, Benny raising one hand and waving to someone behind you. “Hey! Ang! C’mere.” Who is? You turned to see who he was talking to as one of the women in the bridal party - the one who had been partnered with Pope when they’d all walked down the aisle during the ceremony - came towards your table, her own small bouquet in hand. Oh, right, Angela. “Ang, lemme borrow that real quick, okay?” He gestured to her flowers. “Please?’

She leaned down with a huge smile on her face, placing one hand on the back of his chair, and kissed him on the cheek. “Anything for my brand new brother in law!” Dropping her bouquet in his lap, she laughed and clapped her hands. “I’m heading back to the dance floor while there’s still time, and when you’re done here I better see you out there twirling the shit out of my sister, Miller!” Laughing, she shimmied her way out towards the group of people on the floor,  Benny calling a ‘Yes ma’am!’ after her. 

“Benny,” you shook your head as he picked up the bundle of daisies and dahlias in his lap and glanced down at it. “What are you-” But you knew what he was doing the second you saw the mischievous quirk of his lips. Before you could get the final word of your question out, he sprung into action, flinging the bouquet at you. “What?!” You sputtered, hands flying out instinctively to catch what he’d thrown at you. “Why are you-” 

He just drummed his hands on the table top, some of the amber liquid in his glass almost sloshing up over the rim.. “See? I fuckin’ told you!” 

Closing your eyes, you let out a chuckle and hid your face behind the blossoms. “Benny…” You groaned, the sound devolving into a laugh. “You-” 

“What’s goin’ on over here, hmm?” Just then you felt Frankie’s solid presence behind you, one arm coming around your chair to set your drink on the table and press a kiss near your temple. Lowering the flowers to your lap, you closed your eyes as he let his lips linger long enough for you to feel him smile before he drew them away. Hi.  

“What’s goin’ on, ‘Fish,” Benny stood and faked a punch at Frankie’s bicep, opening his fist and letting it clap over the older man’s shoulder instead. “Is that your girl here just caught the flowers, so you know what that means.” Without waiting for a response, he waggled his eyebrows and bent down to retrieve his glass. “Now if you two will excuse me, I need to go find my wife.” 

“Yeah, you go do that, Benjamin,” Frankie muttered, shaking his head and bringing one hand up to swipe downwards over his mouth, the corners of it twitching behind his palm. Benny shot you another wink before turning towards where Alana was dancing with Angela, Will, Pope and Yovanna. “Can’t help himself, can he?” He spoke under his breath, dropping his hand. 

“You know Benny.” You shrugged, laughing as you crossed one leg over the other. The hem of your dress slid up as you shifted your position, exposing more of your knee and thigh. Though the autumn breeze that swept through the night was cool enough to cause a quick chill, all you felt was fire when his eyes fell to your lap. Oh. He… fuck. 

The pink tip of Frankie’s tongue slid between the seam of his lips to wet them, and then he was leaning down to reach for the bundle of blossoms still sitting in your lap. “So you caught these, huh?” His fingers skated intentionally over the thin mesh of your stockings, knuckles pressing down against your knee as he wrapped his grip around the stems of the flowers. 

It was all you could do not to openly moan at the look in his eyes and the presence of his large hand curled around the bouquet resting atop your legs. Swallowing hard, you blinked and nodded. “Mmhmm.” You took a breath that made your whole chest heave as he lifted the flowers away, keeping his eyes on the sliver of your upper leg that he’d just uncovered. “Sure did.” Benny threw them at me, but same difference. 

Flipping the bouquet onto the table, he brought his now empty hand back to your lap and curved it around your top leg. “Well, I think that’s our cue then.” 

Oh, is it? Your heart slammed to a stop as he used his grip to uncross your legs, but it sped up again as his fingers shifted from your thigh to your hand. He reached down for the other one and pulled you to your feet, his own planted so close to you that when you stood you were nearly chest to chest. He’d discarded his jacket earlier - it hung on the back of his chair instead of across his shoulders - and his sleeves had been uncuffed and rolled to the elbow, so when his arms went around you, you could easily feel the warmth of his body through the white button down he wore. Head swimming and pulse thrumming, you leaned into his hold and suddenly couldn’t wait to be upstairs. But I thought he said… 

“Thought you said one more drink.” Your voice was thin and wispy, your words dissolving into a hum as he ducked his head to kiss behind your ear. Not that I’m complaining. There was music playing, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t hear it over the thoughts racing through your head. “You just-” You gasped as his tongue swept over your skin. Oh, shit. You swallowed. “You just stood in line at the bar, and we haven’t said goodnight to-”   

You weren’t actually trying to convince him to stay any longer, and he knew it. “We’ll come back down for a drink in the lobby later,” he growled into your neck. “Say goodnight to ‘em then.” You could feel his warm breath on your skin, vibrating in your blood. “They’re not gonna notice we’re gone, trust me.” His facial hair dragged over your throat as he moved his mouth up to nip at your earlobe, teeth catching on the inner ridge of your ear. “Wanna see you in those sexy fucking things you got on.” That’s why I wore them. He doubled down then, lowering his tone even more, his words dripping directly into your soul to shake it. “Wanna feel that lace clamped around my head while I-” 

“Fuck, Frankie, let’s…” You panted out a breath, leaning your forehead into his shoulder as he let out a short chuckle. “Yeah. Let’s go.”  

As soon as the words were out of your mouth he was in motion, gathering up his jacket and handing you your purse. The small black rectangle swung from the strap with the force of his hasty grab, and you had to laugh, teeth biting down into your bottom lip. God, we’re like two horny kids, it’s…  Frankie’s wide palm settled firmly on your back then, steady and strong and you let him guide you through the cluster of tables and away from the reception area. It’s crazy how much I want him. 

His fingers flexed as he moved his hand around to your hip, and as the door to the hotel lobby slid open, you looked up at him and the heat that had been pooling in your lower belly flooded through your entire body. 

Because when he looked down at you, you saw, you felt - you knew - that he wanted you just as much. I’m yours, Frankie. 

–  –  –  

Your dress was over your head and on the floor within seconds of stepping into the room. Frankie’s hands worked quickly to bolt the lock before removing your clothing and landing at your waist. A groan rumbled deep in his throat to make a breath catch in yours. Oh, that- Your fists tightened in the material of his shirt as the gravelly sound he made stirred the embers in your belly into flame. Tipping your head back, his name left your lips in a sigh as your eyes clamped shut.  

“Finally got you to myself.” His large palms roved up your sides, fingers flexing into your flesh as he leaned in to pin you to the door. Ducking his head so that his lips hovered just over the pulse point on your neck, you felt the vibrations of each syllable as he spoke. “All to myself.” 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, hands blindly moving to the buttons on his shirt and undoing the few that were still fastened. You sure do. He mouthed along the slope of your shoulder and then back up your throat, smiling when he felt you swallow. His touch wandered around to your back, climbing up and over the clasp of your bra, and you were emboldened by the sound - and feel - of another of his groans. Tongue flicking out to wet your lips, you challenged him. “What are you gonna do about it, Morales?” 

When he lifted his head to lock his eyes with yours, there was no need for him to answer your question with words. Oh fuck. You saw the same dark veil of desire fall over them that had been there from the start - when all you had were late night fucks, no feelings, all fast moves and finding release. But behind that, now you saw something else. Something that both deepened and brightened that darkness currently overtaking his brown eyes. Because now it’s… now we- 

Frankie dropped his gaze then, letting it rake all the way down your form as he took half a step back. “Fuck,” he muttered, chest heaving as he took in the view of your body. You felt the way his eyes lingered on the lacy band of your thigh highs for a few seconds, as though he were tracing the patterns and memorizing the way they looked stretched over the muscles of your legs. Hands following the trail that his eyes were blazing, he let them both settle low on your hips, thumbs swiping over the thin material of your underwear and into the crease where your thigh met your pelvis. “Look at you.” 

His eyes snapped back up to yours then, and there it was - desire, but not just to take. Not just to have you in his hands and take you into his bed, but to take you apart, peel pleasure from you in spirals. You sucked in a breath, letting it out in a quick exhale that you were sure he felt fan across his lips and cheek. He didn’t have to answer your question with words, but he did anyway. 

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do about it?” His voice was deep and raspy as he asked, and it was all you could do to nod in response. He pressed his thumbs more firmly into the space they occupied, the tip of his tongue flicking out to dampen his lips. “Gonna make you forget all about going back downstairs for that drink.” 

You were going to say something teasing or clever. Something witty or flirty. But that was before the corner of Frankie’s mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin that teemed with mischief. That was before his hands coasted over your curves as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, chin tilted up so he could appreciate you from a new angle. When he looks at me like that it's… A thin whimper broke loose from your lips, your breathing starting to become quicker and more shallow as you let him overwhelm you. And he hasn’t even done anything yet. Fuck. Instead of anything like what you were planning on saying, you opted for his name as you combed your fingernails through his hair. 

“Yeah?” He let his right hand wander to the back of your left thigh, fingertips running over the textured lace there. You shook your head. “What drink?” 

He let out a short huff of laughter, and then you gasped as his right hand plunged downwards between the elastic and your skin, the sheer fabric stretching over his knuckles as he gripped your flesh. “These are…” His other palm slid down the outside of your right leg, his eyes following his own movement. They widened, a quiet curse falling from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your calf, and then he lifted his gaze back up to find yours. “I like these.” Leaning forward, he laid his lips to the skin of that thigh, just above the edge of the band holding the barely-there garment up. You sighed at the warm drag of his mouth along the lace. “Like you in these.” 

He turned his face to give the same attention to your opposite thigh, the hair on his head brushing the skin he’d just lavished with his tongue and lips, the hair on his cheek and chin tickling your other leg as he kissed you there as well. That feels… Your eyes fell shut as your hand found its way into his curls, fingers weaving between them, and you let out a hum. “Thought you might, Frankie.” You opened your eyes again, lids heavy as you looked down at him. He tilted his head back to rest his chin on your kneecap. “Hoped you would.” 

“Did you?” He squeezed you gently as he asked, both hands kneading into your muscle. You responded with a whispered yes. “Well, as usual,” he mumbled, pausing to place another kiss to the inside of your left thigh, the sensation causing you to let out a breathless sigh, “you were right.” You shivered as you felt the light scrape of his teeth over the skin he’d just been focused on. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy all night knowing you had these on under that dress and-” You nearly went boneless as he pressed his forehead and nose to the front of your right thigh, groaning into your skin. “And that you put ‘em on for me.” 

“I did.” You practically panted out the words as your hands fell to his shoulders. Why is he still wearing clothes? “Did it in the car when I got here. Put ‘em on so you could take them off me, Frankie.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna. Wanna take everything off you.” His eyes flicked up to the matching black lingerie set that you wore, following the scalloped edges that hugged the swell of your breasts. “Just not yet.” 

He nuzzled higher up towards the apex of your thighs, his hot breath setting you ablaze as you suddenly realized - at the same time he did - that you were already soaked at just the hint of what was to come. Oh, fuck. 

The starving sound in his voice as he said your name cracked you open and turned everything inside of you to molten liquid. 

Oh, fuck, I… he-  His eyes flashed and then fell shut as his tongue pressed flat against the material of your underwear, and you couldn’t contain your moan if your life depended on it. And he wants to hear it. He swore under his breath, the string of half coherent curses vibrating through the damp material and sending sparks into your bloodstream. 

“Gonna start with these, though.” His tongue teased the edge of them, pushing beneath the elastic as he reached for the waistband with both hands. Teeth catching on the hem, he grinned and they snapped back against your skin. You inhaled sharply in a hiss as his fingers hooked in the band, the sparks in your veins bursting in tingling explosions. Wait! He needs to… he’s still dressed and - “They’re in my way. Wanna make you come on my tongue and-”

“Fuck, Frankie, wa- wait.” You gripped his shoulders, swallowing hard as your heart thundered and your head spun. Wetting your lips, you blinked down at him and took a few deep breaths. 

Hands stilling where he touched you, he leaned back to look up, eyes connecting instantly with yours. “You okay? What’s-” 

Before the crease between his brows could fully deepen, you shook your head and gave him a dizzy smile. “I’m fine.” Way more than fine. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. “Feeling kind of underdressed though.” Pulling at the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, you raised one eyebrow. “C’mon, Frankie, take this off. I want to… need to touch you.” Your voice warbled in your throat as he leaned forward to brush a kiss right below your navel, that molten heat you felt before responding to his lips by pooling in that spot. 

You whimpered, imagining him trying to lick at that heat with his tongue. He released a throaty sigh and though you couldn’t be sure, you had a feeling he was imagining the same thing. 

You didn’t have to ask him twice to take his shirt off, and you knew it was because he was just as eager to feel your hands on his skin as you were to put them there. He stood at your urging, letting you help him with the few remaining buttons, and then your hands were slipping under the open sides of his shirt as his found their home near your hips. Moving your palms over his chest and up towards his shoulders, you shucked the dress shirt down onto his biceps, your touch roving around to his back. As soon as his torso was bared he pulled you flush to his body, and then it was your turn to trail your lips in places that made him hum and groan. Because I’ve been waiting all night for this, too. 

As the thought crossed your mind Frankie’s hips rolled into yours, and the feel of him - hard and thick and making his pants work to contain him - pulled another sound from you, this one grittier, needier, as you nipped at his jaw. Fuck, I’ve never… Your hands went back to the crooks of his elbows, where the sleeves of his shirt still hung on his frame, and you pushed them down his forearms. Never wanted anyone as much as I want this man. 

“Easy, killer.” He teased, using one hand to free the other from his sleeves and then switching so that his shirt finally dropped to the floor. Your fingers had flown to the zipper on his pants, fumbling with the button there by the time he encircled your wrists, his grip strong but gentle as he stroked your pulse point with his thumb. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He eased your hands away from his fly, leaving it open as he used his hold on you to lead you fully into the room. After a few steps, he turned you so that you were in front of him, and then instead of pulling, he lightly pushed you until you felt the edge of the mattress behind your legs. “And neither are you.” 

He pushed a little more firmly, just enough to make you tip backwards onto the bed, a small string of laughter spilling from you as the mattress bounced beneath your body. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as Frankie finished what you’d started with his pants. They fell around his ankles and then he stepped out of them, his grin growing wolfish as he closed the distance to kneel at the foot of the bed. 

“Now -” His palms slid up the sides of your thighs so that his fingers could find the band of your underwear again. “Think we were right… about…” Curling his digits, he tugged the material to pull it down, exposing your damp skin to the cool air of the hotel room and making you suck in a breath. “Here.” 

The last word came as his mouth descended on you, and within minutes you were ready to give him what he said he wanted before he took your tights off, your release slicking his chin and lips as one of your heels pressed into the shoulder blade that it was thrown over. When he finally lifted his head to look up at you, you panted out his name, breathless already. But I want more, I want- 

You wanted to feel him fill you, stretch you, needed him deeper than his tongue could delve. You wanted to watch the way his throat tightened as you clenched around him, wanted to see the way bliss blew the blackness in the center of his eyes outward towards the edges. You wanted to feel his muscles work against and with your own before they went slack and soft, needed the contrast of climax and the caresses that would follow. 

You wanted to fuck and then fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved with every cell in your being as the lazy sound of waves rolling up onto the sand floated through the balcony door.  

But before you could reach for him to coax him up towards you, he used the shoulder that was still under your leg to scoot you higher up on the bed. “M’not done with you yet.” One eyebrow pitched into an arch as he shook his head. “Not even close.” Shrugging your thigh down into the crook of his arm, he turned his face to press his lips - still partially coated in you - to your skin. “Gotta take these off, remember?” Moving his head and angling his chin, he opened his mouth and bit the lacey edge of your stockings. “S’why you put them on, right?” 

It sure fucking is. Frankie. All you could do was nod. 

Keeping the lace between his teeth, Frankie began to move slowly towards your ankle, peeling the fabric down over your knee. He paused there, lips grazing your skin, the bottom one obscured by the nylon that was stretched over it making the upper one feel warmer and softer. Oh, fuck. You let out a hum that you knew he heard, his eyes lifting from what he was doing to find yours as his hands continued to roam - one over your thigh, the other dragging down over your abdomen. 

“You like that?” His voice was a low, gritty rasp, the heat from his breath getting trapped between the sheer fabric and your skin, spreading down your shin. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “Feels good, Frankie.” 

That was an understatement. It felt like a goddamned blessing to know that this man wanted nothing more than to be undressing you with his teeth. That the only place he wanted to be in that moment - and he could be anywhere in the entire world - was right between your legs, tangled up in your limbs. It made you feel invincible and indestructible to know that he’d chosen you, that you had given your whole self to him and he’d accepted every piece of you, that he’d placed those pieces in his heart. It felt like pure passion and trust to love and be loved by Frankie Morales, especially when this was how he chose to show you. 

I fucking love him so much. 

He finally released his bite, letting go of the stocking which was bunched near your ankle, and then slipped two fingers between it and your skin to yank it off of your foot. “Gonna take the other one off, too.” 

At that, you groaned, the sound turning into a desperate whine. “No, Frankie, don’t… don’t tease. Need to… need, fuck, Frankie, I can’t wait any-” 

His chuckle was dark and deep and breathless. “Neither can I.” At that, he moved up the bed, reaching for a small box on the nightstand next to his wallet that you hadn’t noticed earlier - condoms, you realized in a haze as he tore open the package and deftly rolled the rubber over his length - and then he placed his lips next to your ear. “Gonna take the other one off… after.”

–  –  –  

It was late morning by the time the two of you made it back down to the lobby, the hotel staff busily tending to the continental breakfast buffet that you could see Pope, Yovanna, Will and a few of the girls from the bridal party partaking in, and as you let Frankie lead you over towards them, his hand solidly placed on the small of your back as Pope’s voice carried across the space ribbing the two of you with “Look what the cat dragged in!”, you could only think of two things - one, that Frankie had been right about the two of you not making it back for a goodnight drink, and two, that the pair of stockings now laying ruined on the floor of your room had been the best fashion choice you’d ever made in your life.

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tags:  @something-tofightfor @paracosmenthusiast @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @alraedesigns @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @amb11 @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura​ @thescarletfang​ ​ @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​

#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x female reader #pedrostories #frankie morales fic #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #will miller #kinktober but make it january #whoops #this is a smut #but with feelings #anywho ENJOY.

[romanarose]

Awakening Series Masterlist

You and your husband, Santi, find you share a mutual fantasy: You being passed around between his friends, Benny, Frankie and Will

Prelude: "This Better not Awaken Anything in me"

Awakened: Part One.

Awakened: Part Two

Santi's Awakening: Santiago Garcia X Benny Miller Ft. You

Awakened: Santi x You x Will

Melatonin: Frankie X Benny

Awake: Everyone

In order to manage the high amount of people wanting to be tagged in parts, after part 3 is posted, please comment here if you would like to continue getting tagged in this series. It's simply going to be a continued exploration of sexuality and relationships, no particular story yet.

#Santiago Garcia #Benny miller #will miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia smut #benny miller smut #will miller smut #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #benjamin miller #william miller