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luxurychristmaspudding · 3 months

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you and your friends (tommy's party pt. i)

summary: your handsome new roommate spells trouble. but you've got a handle on it. haven't you?

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. roommate!frankie, stoner!frankie and stoner!reader. mentions of drinking and smoking weed - they're having a good time! no lady and no baby. idiots in love, split pov, lots of fluff tbh and a whole lotta sexual tension. reader and frankie are little creeps n freaks. reader pays a visit to benny, frankie hooks up with 1 (one) other person. f&m masturbation, voyeurism, lots of cuddling. use of pet names (good girl, baby etc. (platonic, of course))

song is tagged at end of fic - header does not represent reader, only the album!

wc: 9.6k

an: *mc voice* let's get this party started!

part ii - tommy's party

When Frankie catches a glimpse of you from across Will’s crowded living room, he’s not so sure Benny’s idea is a good one.

The room is lit with yellow lamplight, heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol and cigarette smoke. There are people crammed in everywhere; slumped over chairs and sofas, leant against door frames, moving in and out of the kitchen with the click of the door beads. A sluggish bass thumps out over the party, the thrum of laughter and conversation cushioning any other sound.

He stands at the back of a sofa which has been turned inwards towards the centre of the room, leaning over Santi and Will as they howl over some story they’re retelling for a couple of girls squished between them. Frankie had been quite happy listening and laughing along, but he’s distracted when Benny taps his arm with his beer bottle and motions over to you.

‘That’s her,’ he says, ‘The girl I was telling you about.’

And yeah, he’s very quickly sure that this is a bad idea.

Because you’re beautiful. A gorgeous wrap dress clinging to your curves, each outline flowing like you’d been poured into it. Jewellery clinking and glittering around your wrists, neck, and ears, and your hair shining like each strand had been arranged by some ethereal hand. Your smile bands out around you, bathing your audience in a kind of glow, a reflection of your warmth. Frankie watches as you tip your head back slightly in a boundless laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the soft clasp of your hand falling on the forearm of the man sat next to you. Fuck.

Frankie swallows drily, and Benny places a hand on his shoulder.

‘Come on, Fish,’ he says, ‘I’ll introduce you. I’ve told her about you already.’

Frankie doesn’t want to move. He’d much rather watch, much rather have Benny do the heavy lifting here. He doesn’t think he can talk to you, much less make a good first impression.

But his friend is guiding him forwards, and he can’t help but be shepherded. Panic rises like bile in his throat, and he thinks of turning around, excusing himself to go to the bathroom and just sitting in his truck for a while instead, but then -

Your bright eyes flick up to find Benny approaching you, and your face lights up. You stand from where you were perched on the arm of a chair and walk around the bundle of people whom you'd entranced. You place a gentle hand on a soft-haired woman’s shoulder, inclining your head to say you’ll be back in a minute, before you open an arm to Benny.

‘Benny!’ You call, squeezing his waist as the younger man presses you to his side, planting a kiss to your forehead. ‘How are you, man?’ You ask. Benny returns your greeting, answering your question, but Frankie can’t concentrate on anything he’s saying. You listen intently to his friend, smiling and asking a couple more questions, before looking properly at Frankie.

‘Sorry - hey,’ you say softly, ‘You must be -’

‘Oh god,’ Benny chuckles, ‘Sorry, yes. This is Frankie.’ Benny moves to press Frankie forwards, and he stumbles a little as he catches your outstretched hand. If you notice, you don’t say anything, just smile warmly at him and shake, giving him your name.

‘It’s good to meet you, man,’ you say, ‘Benny here has told me a lot about you.’ Benny laughs, clapping Frankie on the back.

‘Only good things, Fish,’ he grins, ‘I promise.’ Frankie rolls his eyes at him.

‘So, you’re interested in the room?’ You ask, and Frankie turns back to you. He nods, swallowing.

‘Yeah, really interested. It’d be great to come over and take a look if you’re around.’ He surprises himself at how easily the words roll off his tongue. You offer him another kind smile, nodding encouragingly, and he finds himself relaxing.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘You’d be very welcome to. You have glowing recommendations from the boys, anyway.’ You lean in closer to him, lowering your tone conspiratorially. ‘I’d have you moved in tomorrow if I could. Sold on you already.’ Frankie beams bashfully down at the carpet and bites his lip, Benny’s idea straying dangerously back into good territory.

‘I wouldn’t believe everything they tell you.’ He says, eyes trailing over your neckline, the dip in your cleavage, the hollow of your throat, skin gleaming and a little damp with sweat. You reach out and tuck a stray curl peeking out from his cap behind his ear.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ you murmur, and your touch, the pet name, sends a shiver down his spine. ‘I think we’d get along just fine.’

Benny leaves you both soon after, in search of another beer. He asks if you want one and you politely decline. Frankie does the same. You lead him to a quieter corner by the back window and pull him into easy conversation. You laugh and tell him this is his ‘interview’, but confess that you really have no idea what that might involve. Frankie lets you ask him any question that comes to your mind, and in this pool of time, you discover everything you could need to know about each other. Where you grew up, what your parents were like, whether you enjoyed school, what you eat when you’ve had a bad day, how often you clean the bathroom, what you do now, and what your dreams are for the future. You ask tentatively, respectfully about Delta Force. Frankie appreciates the way you preface it with an out - you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to - but he finds that he does. He spares the details but tells you about training, about flying, about meeting the boys. He tells you about Tom, and as little about Colombia as possible. You nod, brow furrowing in sympathy, in feeling, and squeeze his knee in comfort.

Frankie’s heart shouldn’t skip the way it does, but then you’re asking him more about what Tom was like, how his family are. When his eyes mist over, you take his hand. He runs a thumb over your knuckles. He tells you, cringing, about the coke charge, about his licence. About how he’s getting it back in spring. You grin brightly at him, congratulating him, sucking air in through your teeth and doing a little dance in your chair. Frankie laughs at you, heart swelling. He doesn’t know how you’re getting him to do this - tell you all this stuff, make it feel okay, make him feel great. But he loves it. He could get used to it. You’re sat close to his side, shoulder to shoulder, and you are so warm, your skin so soft. Frankie leans in closer.

‘How did you meet Benny?’ He asks, breathing the words into the shell of your ear over the music. You squirm, dipping your head away from him, and Frankie wonders for an awful moment if he’s misjudged the closeness, if he’s already overstepped your boundaries.

You look at him sideways, your body angled away from him.

‘He didn’t tell you?’ You ask.

Frankie raises an eyebrow, mouth open, ready to apologise. His brow furrows and he shakes his head.

‘No.’ He says. You smile at him, sighing heavily through your nose.

‘It’s a little embarrassing,’ you say, avoiding his gaze. ‘We met at a bar. We got on really well, and -’ you huff out a breath, meet Frankie’s eye again. He’s still watching you, not having put together the pieces. You roll your head onto your shoulder, pick the label on your bottle. ‘We slept together, Frankie.’

Frankie’s heart drops.

‘Oh.’ He says.

‘Yeah,’ you laugh, ‘Oh.’ You’re quiet for a moment, Frankie scrambling for the right thing to say. He’s too slow. You clap your hands down on your knees and rise from your seat.

‘I’m gonna head outside for a bit,’ you say. He watches you disappear with a weak smile, an anxious feeling welling in his chest.

Frankie sits for a few minutes, taking pulls from his beer, looking out over the crowd assembled in the living room.

His spots Benny lent against a wall, held up by an arm outstretched beside a girl’s head. A tongue of fire licks up through Frankie’s belly, and he has to sit with it for a moment to work out what it is. Jealousy. He’s jealous that Benny has already touched you, has already heard you. Jealous that Benny has already crossed that threshold, and now he has to be the one to move in and keep his distance. Arbitrary rules, he knows, rules which have been disregarded before. Already, you’d be more than a quick fuck. It’s crass, but Frankie knows you should be more than someone you take home from a bar. Maybe you are - you’re here, after all, clearly invited. Frankie’s mind rocks with the notion that Benny is saving you, keeping you around. It would be cruel of him, but not impossible. Benny had a bad habit of getting what he wanted.

Frankie grinds his teeth, tears his eyes away from his friend. Stupid, stupid. You’re someone he’s only just met, someone he might be living with. Whatever weird thing this is going on in his brain, he needs to fix it quick. Thoughts like these are not suitable in situations like living together.

Frankie stands, but instead of speaking to Benny, instead of getting to the bottom of why you’re here, he follows you through the door beads into the kitchen and out the back door.

You’re sat on the porch swing just below the kitchen window, and the surprise of finding you so easily brings Frankie to a sharp halt. You look up from your bag, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in the glow of the porch light.

‘Hey,’ you say softly, ‘Are you okay?’

Frankie breathes out heavily.

‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘Sorry about that - in there,’ gesturing over his shoulder, back into the house.

‘Oh,’ you say, shaking your head and bringing out a small plastic baggy from your purse. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s not a thing. There’s no -’ you wave a hand around your head, ‘Feelings there or anything. We’re just friends now.’

Frankie nods, leans against the doorframe. Hums a response.

‘You wanna sit?’ You ask, scooching over on the swing, patting the space next to you.

Frankie pushes off the frame and comes to sit next to you. He rocks the seat slightly with his feet, yours dangling a little too far off the ground to move it.

You grin at him, delighted with the movement. You shuffle to tuck your legs under you.

‘Amazing,’ you grin, ‘See? Already a dream team.’

Frankie grins back at you and watches you take more items out of your bag. A small, circular grinder, a tiny rolling tray, pink papers. You pop open the baggy, and the smell of the dried plant seeps through the air, rushing up his nostrils. Frankie breathes deeply, watching you sprinkle some of the bud into your open grinder. You close it, and look up at him.

‘You a narc?’ You ask, lips still quirked.

‘No.’ Frankie chuckles. You bite your cheek, shrug your shoulders.

‘Ya never know…’ you coo, and Frankie grins.

‘I got busted for coke, baby,’ he reminds you, ‘I’m not gonna rat you out for weed.’

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow.

‘Fair enough.’ You say. Frankie watches as you twist the grinder back and forth over the bud, entranced by the motion of your hands. His lips part, watching the strong flex of your wrists.

‘Do you smoke?’ You ask. His tongue dips out to lick the pillow of his lower lip, and you trace the movement with your eyes, fascinated. You swallow, clearing your throat softly. ‘Frankie?’

His eyes dart up to yours, embarrassed, flushed.

‘Yeah?’ He says.

‘Do you smoke?’ You repeat. He looks away from you, shy, shaking his head.

‘I used to,’ he says, ‘But not for a long time.’

You nod, looking out over the garden with him. The cool wind brushing through the trees, the luminescence of the town beyond their feathered tops.

‘You wanna share?’ You ask. He looks back at you, surprised, eyebrows high on his forehead. You shrug. ‘Don’t have to, of course. Especially if it’s not gonna be good for you. Just that - if you wanna move in, I’m afraid it’s a habit I won’t be quitting.’ You raise an eyebrow at him, half apologetic, half warning. He swallows visibly.

‘What if I get too high?’ He says, breathless. You snort, balancing the rolling tray on your knees as you separate the hash out onto the paper, on top of the lavender you’ve pulled from your purse.

‘It’s okay, sugar,’ you say, ‘I’ll look after you.’

Frankie stares at you, eyes wide.

You snicker at him, finish rolling, and lick the paper. Frankie watches the swipe of your tongue, its slow draw along the edge, and feels his cock twitch in his jeans. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea -

He watches as you perch the joint between your lips, put your shit back in your bag, and pull out a lighter. Your eyelashes flicker down to rest on your cheeks as the lighter clicks and you cup your hands around the flame. You take a deep breath in, hollowing your cheeks, lost to the sensation, the taste. Frankie’s jaw flexes, and he has to look away again. You exhale the thick smoke, blowing it away from him, taking another drag before knocking your hand against his arm.

‘Want some?’ You ask.

Frankie mutters a thanks and takes the joint clumsily in his fingers, rotating it until it’s comfortable in his grip. He brings it to his mouth, and you watch as he sucks in and immediately sputters out again. He bends over his knees in a hacking cough, and you gently take the spliff as you pat his back.

‘You okay?’ You ask, taking another draw for yourself. Frankie leans back against the seat, sucking in great breaths of air, eyes watery, his body still twitching. He gulps and nods, not looking at you. ‘Good.’ You say, softly.

Frankie tries again a few minutes later, and is a little more successful. You finish the rest of the joint together before you flick the roach off into the darkness. Your body hums with the crickets and the static of the night air, and you can’t wipe the grin off your face.

‘This is nice.’ You say dumbly, turning to face him.

His arms are crossed and his jaw is clenched again. He breathes deeply through his nose. You scrunch your face up at him, and he notices the movement out the corner of his eye. His gaze slips to you for just a second, and a large smile slips across his features. You giggle at him, heavy and giddy. The urge to take the hand folded closest to you strikes, and when you do, he turns to look at you properly.

‘You have really nice hair,’ you say softly. Frankie chuckles, unable to help himself. You grin at him. ‘What?’ You say. ‘You do.’

Frankie laughs harder, and you reach over to take the cap off his head. He makes a slow, unconvincing grab for it before you settle it on your own hair, kneeling up to swipe a hand through his curls. He watches you, unable to look away, and you gasp at the feeling of it carding through your fingers.

‘So soft,’ you breathe, delighted. You look into his eyes again, one hand cradling the back of his head. His eyes dart down to your mouth, and you lick your lips before starting to giggle. ‘Anyone ever told ya you got baby cow eyes?’ You say.

Frankie’s brow furrows slightly. His words are slow and slurred. ‘What?’

You giggle harder and move your hand round to cup his cheek, looking at him very seriously.

‘Your eyes,’ you say, ‘Are like a baby cow’s.’ A slow spread of joy glows across Frankie’s features. His eyes scrunch up with his smile. ‘Nooo,’ you cry softly, ‘Now they’re all happy. They’re not all big and brown anymore.’

Frankie laughs with unbridled amusement, his head dropping from your hand as he clutches at your knees.

‘A baby cow?’ He gasps. You nod quickly, enthusiastically.

‘Yeah, Frankie. You got real pretty eyes.’ Your own are wide and earnest, and that seems to convince him. He raises an eyebrow before grinning goofily at you, lifting a finger to tap your nose.

‘You think I’m cute.’ He says, and you snort, which only sends him off into a flood of more giggles.

‘I didn’t say that. Only said you got pretty eyes.’

It’s only a little, tiny lie. And you think it’s for the best.

You spend another hour out on the porch before returning to the party, and though you don’t stray far from each other, you make a point of finding Frankie before you leave. You hand him your phone, and he stares at it, confused, before you roll your eyes playfully and say -

‘I need your number, dummy. For the room.’

He taps his number into your phone, and you save it with a little cow emoji next to his name. Frankie bites away his smile.

When he’s lying on the sofa in the dark later, surrounded by bottles and cans and ashy cigarette ends, he can’t stop grinning to himself.

You text him early the next morning, giving him a time and a date to come and see the flat. Frankie replies with so much enthusiasm that he flushes when he reads the message back, dropping his phone onto the coffee table as he stretches out on Will’s floor. He sacrifices his spot on the sofa to Will and Benny, Santi beside him as they watch Face/Off over breakfast.

He doesn’t see your reply until the movie ends.

Can’t wait! So excited to see you!

He sets his phone back down with a happy sigh, so loud that Will and Santi, and then Benny, ask him what he’s so pleased about.

He only gets them to stop probing by smacking Will in the face with a cushion.

---

Frankie moves in a week later, while you’re at work.

You think it’ll be much easier for you both. If you were in the flat you’d only be in the way, and he probably needs the space and time to figure out where he wants to put his stuff. Plus, the idea of seeing him all hot and sweaty is one that, quite frankly, you’ve been trying to avoid.

Benny had told you all about his friends on that first date at the bar. You had been taken with the way he’d talked about them, so fond and positive. You’d enjoyed asking him so many questions, and were delighted when he asked you so many in return. And Benny was cute - he was hot. Enthusiastic and giving and good. But you knew, even laying next to him, both panting, turning your heads to grin at each other at the same time, that it wouldn’t go anywhere.

He had been your type on paper. He’d ticked so many boxes, and you had both fallen into that first date with such excitement - but there was just something missing. There was no burn. You had a good time, you wanted to see him again, but you didn’t yearn for him the way you wanted to. You didn’t miss him when he wasn’t around, you weren’t worried about him fucking other girls.

It hadn’t been a difficult conversation to have. Benny took it better than you’d hoped, and once it had been established, friendship came easily. You met Will, got on well, and the three of you would go for drinks. Benny would come over to watch a film and eat takeout, and you never touched each other. Sure, you thought about it. But you were on a mission to make life easier for yourself. To not fuck around and get attached to someone you shouldn’t get attached to.

So you should have known better when he introduced you to Frankie. Should have made up some excuse, even if he pretty much had the room after all the boys had told you. Should have backed out as soon as those beautiful brown eyes blinked at you, at that first curve of a shy smile, as soon as you’d tucked that curl behind his ear. Because Frankie was someone you could get attached to. Watching him cook, watching the steam trail out behind him after a shower, watching him stretch out on the sofa with a book, having him crinkle his crows feet at you from across the kitchen as he sips his coffee, the low timbre of his voice reaching you across the floorboards, none of these things are something you needed to know, to see. You should have known better.

Work has been busy, long.

So busy you had to stay behind for a couple of hours to make sure the late shift got set up properly, and then you could trudge home. The bus journey, the walk up the hill, the clamber up the stairs to your front door.

When you make it halfway up the stairs, you can smell it. A delicious, warm waft of heady spices, of richness flowing down through the stairwell. You breathe deeply, aching feet pausing on the concrete just so you can tip your head back and inhale. Your stomach growls loudly, and you wish whoever is cooking a good meal, because it sure fucking smells like it.

The smell is stronger on your floor, and you’re still taking deep breaths when you push open your front door. There’s the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen, the low hum of the radio playing. You toe off your trainers, leaving them next to a couple of unpacked cardboard boxes, splashing your keys into the bowl on the sideboard.

‘Frankie?’ You call. There’s no answer.

You move towards the sound, and push open the door to the kitchen.

Frankie is stood with his broad back to you, stirring something in a pot. He bops his head and hums in time with the radio, unaware of you behind him.

‘Holy fuck, Frankie. That smells amazing.’

He turns with a wide smile, a spatula in his hand.

‘Welcome home. I made enough for us both.’

You grin at him, dropping your bag and shucking off your jacket, coming to stand beside him. You ask about what he’s cooking, and he talks you through each step, the ingredients he’s used, and finally, blessedly, tells you it’ll be ready in five minutes.

You eat across the table from each other in quiet, easy conversation. Even with it all so new, with so many of his unpacked boxes still dotted around the flat, it feels like Frankie has always been here.

You wash and dry the plates side by side, laughing and happy and full. You retreat to your respective bedrooms to change into your pyjamas, and then you prop your door open for Frankie to come join you if he’d like. You flick on an episode of Adventure Time and dig around in your bedside table for your rolling stuff, sitting cross-legged and giggling at the cartoon as you grind, arrange, and roll the joint.

Your roommate appears in the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

‘Come in,’ you say, beckoning him closer, shuffling on the bed to make room for him. He eyes the spliff in your hand. ‘Wanna join?’ You ask. He hesitates.

‘Just a little.’

You nod, stretching off the bed towards the window, grabbing your lighter from the ledge. You flick it to life as Frankie watches from the bed, your legs bare below your sleep shorts, your nipples hard beneath your t-shirt in the cool night air. You jerk your head at him as you exhale, and he crawls over the bed towards you. You try not to think of the way he moves as you hand it to him.

Frankie puffs from the joint a couple times, and passes it back to you. You continue the routine until there’s nothing left, finishing the last couple of tokes before flicking the roach onto the street below.

‘What do ya wanna do?’ You ask him, closing the window. Frankie’s settled back on your bed amongst your pillows. He frowns at the ceiling.

‘Watch a movie.’ He says, and you giggle at the tacky sound of his speech.

‘Come on then, buddy,’ you say, taking his hand and pulling him from the mattress. ‘We’ll watch it on the sofa. You need some water,’ you sing, leading him towards the kitchen. ‘And we’re gonna need snacks.’

Frankie chuckles at the way you say it, a faux accent twanging at your words. He lets you push him down onto the sofa and watches you dopily as you busy yourself with refreshments. You dump everything on the coffee table before turning on the TV.

‘Help yourself,’ you say, gesturing to your stash, and Frankie leans forward in slow motion to grab a can of coke. You giggle at him. ‘What do you wanna watch?’

Frankie cracks the can open and shrugs.

‘Don’t mind.’

You think for a moment, roving through Netflix before slapping his arm.

‘Oh my god!’ You laugh. ‘Notting Hill. We’ll watch Notting Hill. Holy fuck, it’s so bad when you’re stoned, you have no idea.’

Frankie groans beside you, leaning forward again to grab a bag of chocolate pretzels. He rips them open and offers one to you.

‘Whatever you say, boss.’ He smiles.

Halfway through the film, Frankie’s eyes begin to seriously droop. You can’t blame him. It must have been a long day.

When his head drops to your shoulder, you let him cuddle in. He stays there for a while, but when he wakes with a start at the soreness, you manoeuvre him to turn and lay with his head on your lap. He’s pliant and soft in your hands, sighing with relief as he settles. You run a hand through his curls, scratching at his scalp, twisting strands gently around your finger. You stroke and scratch absentmindedly, watching Hugh Grant’s dramatic confession, only remembering what you’re doing when a deep snore resonates from below you.

You look down to find Frankie sound asleep, peaceful face turned up towards you. You admire his silky hair, the scruff of his beard, the heart shaped patch on the side of his face. His soft, full bottom lip, strong nose, the slope and sweep of his brow. You smile at him, something stirring in your belly.

‘Little baby cow.’ You murmur to yourself, and bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider.

---

The first weekend you have off together comes weeks after Frankie moves in.

You have a long, cosy lie in before running your respective errands in the morning, planning to reconvene in the afternoon with food and movies and your other favourite pastime.

By some miracle, you get home before Frankie, and unload your bag of snacks and oven food onto the kitchen table. You’re just organising it, putting away what needs to be in the fridge, when Frankie steps through the front door with a crate of soda and your favourite flowers in his other hand.

‘Hey,’ he grins at you, kicking the door shut before stepping into the room and holding out the blooms. ‘These are for you.’

You take the flowers carefully, admiring the colours, the form, the texture. You look back at him with shining eyes, and Frankie blushes.

‘How did you -’

He shrugs, moving to put the soda in the fridge. With his back to you, he says -

‘You mentioned them once, ‘bout a week after I moved in.’

Your heart melts a little, touched at the care, the thought.

‘Just thought, ya know - don’t need an occasion. Sometimes it’s just nice to pick something up and say I thought of you.’

You blush at his words, just as he turns back around and spots on the table -

‘Holy shit,’ he says, picking up the chocolate covered pretzels. ‘I was just thinking of these! I didn't get any while I was out and they’re my -’ He looks up at you, a knowing smile creeping across his lips.

‘Your favourite,’ you say. ‘I saw them and thought of you.’

Frankie laughs, stepping forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘Dream fuckin’ team.’ He says.

You’re both back in your pyjamas within ten minutes, sat on Frankie’s bed, a joint on the bedside table ready to go.

He flicks through the home screen of his Playstation, settling on Red Dead Redemption 2, starting up the game as you lean out his window to dispel the first stream of smoke. You pass it back and forth between you, and when it’s done Frankie chucks the roach in his bin. You climb underneath the duvet and watch Arthur Morgan’s adventures through hooded eyes, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. He’s warm and solid beneath you, and you wrap your hands around his arm, breathing him in. You watch in rapt fascination as he tracks down carvings in the mountains, giggle and scold him when he barrels down the wrong side of the roads, and swat at him when his horse gets hit by a train. He loads back up his previous save to get her back, and you visit a time traveller, hunt for vampires in Saint Denis, and squeal when a UFO appears over an abandoned hut filled with rotted bodies. He tells you the stories of the characters in a spaced out slur, and you immerse yourself in the sunshine, the rain, the snow, the mists. You close your eyes to the sounds of hooves, of birds, of nature, of Frankie’s strong heartbeat and his deep breathing.

At some point in the evening, you wake again, sitting and stretching. Frankie smiles sleepily down at you.

‘I’m gonna head to bed in a bit.’ He says, and you smile at him, kneading your neck.

‘No worries,’ you mumble. ‘I’ll head to mine, too. Catch you in the morning.’

Frankie fist bumps you as you stumble towards the door.

‘Thanks for hanging out.’ He says. You snort at him before opening the door.

‘No worries, Fish,’ you say, ‘I’m sure I was great company.’

He grins back, and you blow a kiss before snicking the door shut.

Your own sheets are blissfully cool, and you turn on a little quiet music to get yourself off to sleep. The soft, slow jangle of guitars and low voices do the trick, and if you turn your head just so, you can still smell Frankie on your pyjama top.

---

When you come through to the kitchen the next morning, Frankie is already cooking breakfast. He looks cosy in his old Lakers top and sweats that only just cling to his hips. It tightens something in your belly.

‘I’m making eggs and bacon,’ he says, before gesturing with a spatula to the percolator. ‘There’s coffee over there if you want some.’

‘You tryna seduce me or something?’ You ask, waggling your eyebrows. Frankie laughs at you, gorgeous little crows feet crinkling in the corners of his eyes. You have to look away quickly to hide your own gooey expression.

‘No,’ he says, voice grappling with something of an edge - laughter, a little teasing, ‘I’m not in the business of fucking my friends.’ You flash your eyes back to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, and he’s peering at you from below his eyelashes, biting his lip. A grin blows out across your cheeks, and you bite your lip back.

‘Unfortunately for you, I am,’ you sigh, sweeping your hand across the edge of the kitchen table before glancing at him, his attention turned back to breakfast. ‘Santi still single?’

Frankie freezes over the eggs he’s cooking. He looks up at you slowly. Your heart dips in your chest, legs flooding with the feeling that you’ve definitely said the wrong thing.

‘Are you - are you… interested?’

You feel your cheeks heat.

‘I -’ you rub your face, trying to organise your thoughts. Frankie feels something like a freight train headed towards him. ‘No,’ You say, turning fully towards him, smiling a little. ‘No, I’m not. He’s great - he’s a lovely guy, but no.’

Frankie nods, once, twice, before staring back down at the yellow in the pan. He can’t remember what he was doing. Frying or scrambling? They’re too far gone now. He’ll have to try and pass them off as an omelette.

‘It was a stupid joke.’ You mumble, and Frankie shakes his head at the pan.

‘No, no,’ he says, ‘I just, ya know, if you were -’

You smile at him.

‘You’d set me up?’

Frankie shrugs. You smirk.

‘Well then. If you’re patient, sugar, I might make my way through everyone. Finish with you, of course, make sure we last a little longer.’

Frankie’s head whips up, jaw dropped. He breathes your name, and you laugh.

‘My god, Fish. I’m kidding.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, relieved, disappointed. You dance around the kitchen table towards him, reaching out your hands to squish his cheeks, chanting got ya, got ya, as Frankie curls the dish cloth from over his shoulder to whip you with it.

You shriek and leap out of his way, running from him.

Frankie makes no move to follow you, turning off the stove instead, plating up the eggs and bacon. You’re still giggling at him, now armed with a dish cloth of your own. He points at you with the spatula.

‘Sit.’ He says, and you laugh again, taking a seat as Frankie brings over the plates and cutlery. As he settles, you leap up. Frankie watches you.

‘Where are you going?’ He says, spearing some egg with his fork. You return to the table with two mugs of coffee.

‘Can’t forget the most important part of the meal.’ You say, sitting and slurping loudly, winking at him over the ceramic.

Frankie laughs at you through a mouthful of food.

‘You coming to Will’s tonight?’ He asks, swallowing.

You hum a little.

‘Yeah, guess so.’ You say.

‘Boys’ll be there,’ he says, ‘So you’ll know a few faces. Not sure who else.’

You nod, shovelling bacon into your mouth. Frankie smiles.

‘Sure,’ you say, ‘I’ll come.’

That night, you find yourselves round at Will’s again. What was supposed to be a relatively quiet poker night has inevitably turned into too many people drinking too much booze, but he never seems to mind.

Frankie is back leaning on the sofa, listening to Santi and Will talk. He’s laughing, thinking he should go and grab you in a minute - he doesn’t know how many of these stories you’ve heard, but he’s sure you’d enjoy them. He has a compulsion to watch you laugh, to see you enjoy the people around you, to feel the shine of your company, to see the way you look at him, eyes dancing with amusement, always as though there is some kind of joke you’re thinking of that only he will understand.

When he looks around the living room, he can’t find you. It’s not unusual. He knows by now that you’ll be off chatting to whoever is lucky enough to find you, and he finds himself moving in the direction of the kitchen, pushing through the door beads. When he doesn’t see you in there, he catches Benny at the sink, asking if he’s seen you.

‘Sure,’ he says, ‘I was just with her. She’s out on the porch swing.’

A muscle flexes in Frankie’s jaw as he moves away from Benny, that familiar creep of possessiveness crawling up his throat. Stupid, stupid. He’s already asked him, knows that he wants nothing from you. So why does it irritate him so much?

You’re outside on the swing just like Benny said, gazing up at the stars as Frankie slumps down beside you. He bounces the chair, and you giggle at him.

‘Having a good time?’ You ask. He nods.

‘Yeah. You?’

You nod, tilting your face to look at him. Frankie doesn’t know when he decided it, but he’s sure your eyes are the prettiest he’s ever seen. He loves the way they shine out at him now in the glow of the porchlight, warm and kind and soft. That sunny feeling he gets as he watches you moves something silken and deep within him, something lonely.

I was just with her. Unfortunately for you, I am -

‘What?’ You say softly.

‘Nothin’,’ he shrugs. ‘Just glad I met you.’

You scoff lightly at him, knocking your head against his shoulder.

‘Glad I met you, too, sugar.’ You murmur, and when Frankie meets your eye, his breath seizes in his lungs.

You are so close.

Your eyes dart between his own and his mouth, lingering on the shape of his lips, the flecks of grey in his moustache. He can’t move as you lean closer to him, as you ghost two fingers over his wrist. Your eyes are burning, teasing, curious as he stares down at your lips, soft and inviting, curved around so many wonderful words, wrapped around the end of a joint or a beer bottle -

‘There you are,’ Will says, bursting through the back door. You startle away from Frankie, and he feels dizzy at the change, at the rush of what was about to happen. The warm press of your body against his. ‘C’mon,’ says Will, ‘We’ve got a poker game to win.’

You watch as Frankie hauls himself away from you, settling back in the swinging chair. When the door shuts behind the two men, you press a hand to your chest, feeling the rattle of your heartbeat.

---

You wake as though through fog, to a noise you can’t quite place.

It’s quiet, but almost right by your head. A slick, rhythmic sound, heavy breaths, quiet groans, curses. Through slipping sleep, you process them, too tired to be embarrassed, to be thinking straight. The sounds of Frankie jerking off go straight to your core, and you can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as you listen, as you slip your hand beneath the elastic of your panties and join him, careful to muffle your own sounds to hear him better.

You become frantic as he grows louder, as he mutters to himself, as his bed moves just enough to squeak. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he looses a particularly loud fuck, and then a strangely familiar word, followed by a long, low groan. You come hard on your fingers, panting as the heat subsides, as you hear Frankie leave his room and head to the bathroom.

Languid and liquid in the sunbeams on your blankets, it takes you longer than it should to decipher what you’d heard. Longer than it should to wonder if it really was your name he’d gasped as he came.

Frankie needs air.

He needs to get out of the apartment, so while he’s drinking his morning coffee, he drafts up a list of things to do. Parcels to return, small things to buy, a new coffee shop he’d like to try out. Anything to try and clear you out his head. The feel of your body pressed against his on the seat, the ghosting of your fingers on the inside of his wrist, the flame in your eyes. The way you’d jumped when Will found you, whether you meant it, whether he was imagining it, what he was going to do, what he was not going to do -

You shuffle into the kitchen still in your pyjamas, stifling a yawn behind a hand. You help yourself to coffee from the percolator, and Frankie tells you he’s heading out. You nod and give him a squeeze, saying you’re off to the gym, anyway. Frankie tries not to think of how your ass looks in your blue leggings, and sets off down the stairwell.

He stays out for as long as possible, breathing in the fresh, spring air, looking into shop windows and petting passing dogs. He only decides to call it a day when his stomach starts growling and his feet start aching.

He feels good, energised.

Maybe he should get out more often.

Frankie shuts the front door gently behind him, placing his keys in the bowl. He says your name, only half expecting a reply. You didn’t say when you were heading out, or when you’d be back.

He yanks his boots off by the shoe rack you set up last week, and tucks them away neatly. His feet carry him towards the kitchen, fingers itching to hold a cup of coffee and sandwich before a soft sound stops him. His heart leaps in his throat, and he freezes, not daring to take another step.

He registers the soft sound of the running shower, and anticipation lodges itself in his belly. He waits, heart hammering in his chest, and almost moves before he definitely, definitely hears it again.

You moan softly on the other side of the bathroom door, and Frankie’s eyes flutter shut.

He should go. He should absolutely go, but he can see from here in the hallway that the bathroom door is open just a crack. And he has always been a flawed person, which is why it doesn’t surprise him that when he goes to shut it, to knock, to move past, he can’t keep himself from looking. Can’t stop his eyes from finding you, back against the tile, hair dripping down your shoulders, water spattering across your skin as you stand with your legs apart, one hand spreading you open, fingers moving fast across your clit. Frankie grips onto the door handle as his eyes close again.

Because he knows what’s about to happen. Hot shame floods through him as his cock hardens embarrassingly fast, a thin ringing in his ears as he opens his eyes again, takes in the soft flesh of your thighs, the flow of water, the rivulets tracing your skin, your glistening core, the way your fingers move so desperately -

And Frankie can see it, can feel it, can taste it when he imagines opening the door and climbing there with you, not giving you a chance to be surprised before he sinks to his knees and replaces your hand with his mouth.

With shaking fingers, he unbuttons his jeans, unzips his fly, and begins to stroke his cock.

He has no idea how long you’ve been in there for, but he watches closely, ravenously for your tells. It’s not gonna take him long, but he wants to watch you fall apart first.

He watches you move your weight so you slump a little lower on the wall, a harsh gasp leaving your lips. He watches as your hips twitch and roll forwards as you slow your pace, rubbing harder instead of faster, and he barely contains his own moan as you whine, high-pitched and needy, echoing off the walls. He watches your tummy clench with each stroke of your fingers, stares with drooling amazement as you snake a hand up your body to grasp and play with your tits, squeezing them, rolling your nipples between your fingers, pinching them as hard as you can. Frankie grunts when you gasp out a fuck, and for a long, heart clenching second, he thinks you hear him. You slow your movements, trying to peer through the dark crack in the door.

Frankie can’t move, can’t stop fisting his cock as he watches you, precum dripping through his fingers, the dirty thrill of getting caught spurring him on.

You listen carefully, turning your head to the side to see if you can catch any more noises. Satisfied you’re still alone, you continue, this time quickly finding a pace which Frankie can tell will send you off the edge. Your wet skin, the slick sounds of your fingers even over the running water, and your moans, gasps, curses, getting even louder.

Frankie stares still, enraptured by the goddess in front of him unravelling herself, and he wants nothing more than to touch you, taste you, smell you. He tries not to think of what he’d give to be inside you, but a soft moan escapes him anyway. Imagining the clench of your warm, wet cunt, hearing you make those noises for him, the slip of your wet skin in his grasp, your tits in his hands, the bite of your teeth on his shoulder sends him rocketing to his orgasm. He barely has time to wrap the bottom of his t-shirt around his cock, biting his fist as he empties himself, opening his eyes just in time to watch your body spasm and clench, your back arch, your head knock against the tiles as you cry out oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god.

Once you finish riding it out, whimpering and twitching, you close your eyes and breathe heavily. Frankie feels feverish, head tipping forwards onto the door frame as he tucks himself gently back into his boxers and pulls his jeans back up. He takes one last breath before a short, shrill beep echoes throughout the apartment.

Your eyes snap to the door again as you jump, and Frankie flinches, slowly backing away as you cock your head at the gap. Beep. Frankie can feel his pulse in his ears as he reaches the front door with soft treads, managing to open it quietly through his blind panic just as you turn the shower off. He slams it shut, calling your name from the entryway, cringing at the breaking huskiness of his voice. He waits a few seconds as though he’s taking off his shoes before running to his room, hearing the snick of the bathroom door closing just as his shuts behind him.

Frankie leans against the wood, forcing short breaths in and out his nose. Beep.

The smoke detector again, on the other side of the door. It shocks him back to life as he rips his shirt off, stuffing it deep in his laundry hamper before scrambling for a new one, praying to whatever god is out there that you hadn’t just caught him in such an obvious lie. That you hadn’t just caught him jerking off to you masturbating in the shower.

Frankie leaves his room as quickly as possible, knowing that the longer he stays in there the more likely it is you’ll know something is wrong. He yanks the door open, stepping out into the hallway, stopping to listen on the hardwood floor. There’s not a peep from the rest of the flat, but the door to the bathroom is now wide open, small tendrils of steam slipping out into the hallway. Frankie takes a deep breath and steps lightly down the hallway to the kitchen, intent on coffee this time, on something to distract him, something to do with his hands. Beep.

He works on autopilot as he pours the grounds into the percolator, throwing up a mental wall every time a glimmer of your body passes through his mind. When he sets it over the stove top he grips the counter, shoulders hunched, chewing his cheek as he breathes heavily through his nose. This time, the beep of the smoke detector makes him jump, and he swipes a hand over his mouth.

‘We need to change the batteries in that.’ You say, and Frankie flinches as you breeze past him into the kitchen. He can’t look at you, shame and arousal colouring his neck, all the way up to the tips of his ears. He makes a noise in his throat, and you shoot him a look over your shoulder.

‘You okay?’ You ask. He swings his eyes to you, and you look back at him the same as always. Warm, kind. You can’t know. You must be oblivious, and somehow that makes it worse.

‘Yeah,’ he says, and tries to smile, ‘Just need a coffee.’

His eyes try not to linger on your body, try not to linger on your lips, your hands. He grips the countertop harder. Stop it. Stop thinking about it.

You smile back at him.

‘If you’re sure,’ you say, sidling closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. You squeeze and wink up at him. ‘Can you make me one? I’m exhausted.’

Frankie tries to muffle his sharp intake of air with a cough. I’m exhausted. How long had you been in there? Had you even been to the gym? Or had you just spent the morning grinding and moaning and coming -

‘Sure.’ He croaks, and you frown at him.

‘You’re really feeling okay?’ You ask, bringing the back of your hand to his forehead. ‘Might be coming down with something. Tired and coughing.’

He shakes his head a little too enthusiastically.

‘No, I’m fine.’ He says, interrupted only by the beep of the smoke alarm. You pull a face at it, and he moves to take the coffee off the stove.

‘Go get the ladder,’ he says, ‘And I’ll change the batteries.’

You swish out of the kitchen, and Frankie scrubs his face with his hands, groaning out a god before taking two mugs from the cupboard and filling them. He’s just finished pouring in the creamer when you struggle back through the doorway, huffing under the weight of the stepladder.

‘Coffee’s there.’ He says, jerking his head in the direction of the mugs as he takes it from you. Frankie sets it up under the detector, stepping up the first couple of rungs before you stand in front of him. He quirks an eyebrow at you, and you tighten your hands around the ladder’s sides, holding it steady.

‘Don’t want you doing any damage to yourself.’ You say softly.

Frankie nods and continues climbing, trying not to think of how close you are. He focuses as he reaches the ceiling, stretching up to unscrew the device.

You swallow as you’re exposed to the slither of skin the action reveals, golden in the afternoon light, and the dark hair which trails down, down, below the waistline of his jeans.

‘Take it for me.’ He says from above you, and you drag your eyes away to meet his, flushing as you reach up to grab the alarm, fingers brushing. You watch as Frankie’s gaze darkens, as he takes you in, flushed, lips bitten, standing at the perfect height. The greedy way you’d been looking at his stomach, water, thighs, fingers -

‘Thank you.’ He says, and you take the detector away to replace the batteries, your fingers shaking. Frankie watches you hungrily, the curve of your jeans, the slope of your neck when you flick your hair behind you. He’s still watching when you turn back to him and hand him the device.

‘Good girl.’ He says. Heat rushes through you at the words, your breath catching in your throat. Frankie’s movements falter only slightly before he’s reaching up again to screw the detector back in. You stare at his belly, the coarse hair, and try to think of anything but nuzzling your nose against the skin, breathing him in, unbuttoning his jeans, taking his cock in your mouth, thinking about what he’d look like, what he’d feel like, what he’d taste like, whether it would be as good as what you’d imagined in the shower -

Frankie steps down from the ladder, prizing your hands off the metal, folding it shut and carrying it back out the room.

‘All done.’ He says.

You run a hand through your hair, pinching the bridge of your nose. Jesus.

You take a seat at the dining room table, and when Frankie joins you, you drink your coffee in near silence.

At work, later that evening, you shut yourself in the bathroom during your break. You bite your lip so hard it bleeds when you make yourself come, embarrassingly quick, to thoughts of what might have happened if you’d kissed Frankie’s stomach on the ladder. The uncomfortable ache in your core barely sated, your panties soaked, you try to do anything to distract yourself for the rest of the shift. Anything to keep your hands busy.

And in his bed, later that night, when he’s sure you must be asleep, Frankie takes his cock in his hand again. It doesn’t take him long, guiltily indulging in what he’d seen from the crack in the bathroom door. He comes with a quiet groan and a whisper of your name, wishing that you were there to lick the salt off his chest.

He falls asleep to thoughts of you, like he has done from the night you met.

---

A week passes, and Frankie's pretty sure he's going insane.

He can’t shower without picturing the way you had stood there, moaning and gasping. He can’t stop thinking of the way you had looked at him on the ladder, the way you’d looked at him sat on Will’s porch. He has to jerk off at least twice a day, and aside from it being a fucking inconvenience, he’s beginning to feel like a creep.

He thinks he needs to get laid.

There’s a girl you work with - Tasha - who gave Frankie her number not long after you started living together. She was pretty, nice enough, but Frankie hadn’t been looking for anything, and he certainly didn’t want to shit where you ate. But he texts her anyway. It’s late and sleazy, but she says yes. They meet at a bar, and when they stumble through the front door, you’re already home.

You’re sprawled out on your bed, a joint already rolled, leftovers from work in the fridge, ready to hunker down and fill Frankie in on your day, ready to hear him tell you about his, watch some shit on the television. Tonight felt like a David Attenborough night.

You jump as the front door bangs open, as two sets of feet come tumbling in. Your heart beats loudly in your chest at the noise, at the intrusion, unsure whether you should leap up to defend your roommate or hide. Then you hear the wet sounds of kissing, the low mumble of Frankie’s words, a high-pitched laugh you recognise as the front door shuts and Frankie’s opens.

You wait with baited breath, somehow unable to believe what is happening. Your fingers flutter on your chest, anxiously pressing the skin there.

Frankie’s never brought anyone home before. You don’t quite know what to do with yourself.

You’ve also never quite thought about how thin the wall is between your bedroom and his.

The realisation makes your skin flush, heated even more when you hear the mumbles and groans from the other side of the wall. Frankie saying something in a language you don’t understand, and Tasha’s breathy reply.

You don’t know how long you listen for, frozen on your mattress as you listen to the creak of Frankie’s bed, the whines and moans falling from them. The low timber of Frankie’s speech sinks itself into the centre of your body, heating and melting. You close your eyes as you try to pick out what he’s saying, as you listen for his panting breaths, his low moans. You can feel your underwear growing wet with slick, your body tightening - hot - and then Tasha cries out.

The sound shocks you from your reverie, shame, annoyance imploring your body to move. You raise up on your knees and pound your fist against the wall. Everything falls silent.

You breathe deeply for a moment before Frankie says something quietly, answered only by Tasha’s low giggle. Your tongue feels like ash in your throat as they both say a couple more things, more laughs pouring through the wall before you’re up, pulling on a hoodie over your tank top, leaving your room.

There’s another shock of silence as Frankie and Tasha hear you moving, but you’re already pulling your trainers on. You can hear Frankie say something on the other side of his door, can hear it getting louder as he moves towards it, but you’re slamming the front door closed before he can intercept you.

Your Uber ride is quiet, seething. You chew your lip, clench and unclench your fists. Your phone buzzes in your grip several times, but you don’t check it.

When you reach the low, suburban house with the cacti out front, you waste no time worrying about whether you look pretty enough. Because he’s always said you are on the nights when he’s had too much to drink.

You should know better before you raise your hand to knock. But you don’t spare a second thought as your knuckles rap against the wood. You shut down all other thoughts as the door swings open, him knowing exactly when to expect you as soon as you’d called. Something about military training and timing.

‘Hey.’ Benny says, standing in the doorway, moving aside to let you pass.

‘Hey.’ You smile back at him as you step into his house, toeing off your trainers, stripping yourself of your hoodie.

Benny eyes you hungrily as you stand before him in your tank top. You feel the heat coil in your belly again as he steps towards you, the slick in your underwear pooling as he kisses you hard and hot and open mouthed, as you tangle your hands in his hair, as you scratch at the bare skin of his hip beneath his top. You moan against him when you feel him already hard at your stomach.

‘Bed.’ He growls.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #peach pit #tommy's party #you and your friends #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #Spotify

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explicit-tae · 1 year

Text

Unusual Suspects

You were always told that the internet wasn't a safe space and to be careful who you were talking to. Namjoon, your crush of years, was someone you thought was a safe haven - until you realized he wasn't the man you adored but instead a catfish pretending to be him. Now, said catfish is determined to ruin your life and the life of your childhood best friend, Taehyung, for their own sick pleasure.

Warning: yandere themes, catfishing, blackmailing, coercion, namjoon x reader, sexting, sextoys, squirting, fingering, sexual enhancement, voyeurism, cursing, reader is naive of course, fingering, nipple sucking, creampie, backshots, oral (f receiving), humiliation kink, blackmailing,

Word Count: 6,856

@bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @seokjinkismet @castlewolfsbane

'I always thought you were beautiful.'

Your smile slowly widens as you read the message on your phone.

Namjoon was - in your eyes - the man of your dreams. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Perfect smile with the same perfect set of teeth. Dimples cheeks so deep, you swear you could probably cuddle in them - of course not literally. Overall, Namjoon was the whole package. He was intelligent, studying English at a neighboring university.

You began speaking with him around three months ago. You were already too timid to introduce yourself when you met him officially three months before that at a party (via your best friend, Taehyung). They weren't close, friendly acquaintances at best.

When you got a message from an instagram account claiming to be Namjoon, you were over the moon. The account had several hundred followers and many pictures that you never questioned if it was him or not. As the both of you spoke often, you received pictures from Namjoon personally - pictures of him at museums or taking walks at parks.

You weren't opposed in sending your own pictures of you visiting museums, as well, or strolling through gardens or frequenting cafes and bookstores. Namjoon was a good conversationist. There was never a dull moment when they both of you were immersed in your conversations about life and any and everything.

The intimate pictures came recently, Namjoon sending one first. A picture of him laying down, clothed bulge on display. The sight of it makes your mouth water and thighs clench. You were hesitant to send your own pictures, but you do. You were self-conscious about your body. You never were sure if you had the flat stomach, decent size breast and butt. However, sitting and dwelling on it would do nothing but make you insecure so you sent the picture.

You didn't regret it when Namjoon sends a flood of messages claiming that you were beautiful, comparing your beauty to goddess and even angels. You were flattered and it causes you to send even more pictures - each one becoming more explicit and raunchier.

It didn't stop at pictures. He'd send you videos of him, claiming that your beauty was what caused him to touch himself. He'd send you videos of him pumping his cock in the camera, heavy breathing in the background. He asks you to do the same and when you do, you feel unsure. You never touched yourself on camera; and even if you, you'd never send it to anyone.

Vaginas weren't appealing to you. You didn't enjoy touching yourself without a toy because of the wetness it caused, but for Namjoon you would. The sensation was weird at first but knowing that Namjoon would enjoy your videos doesn't cause you to stop. You plunge your fingers in and out of you, breathing deeply until you're moaning his name.

Each video session you sent one another, you became more comfortable. You appeared naked more often than not, nipples erect and more willing to add your face into said videos - even if Namjoon never did.

You were hesitant to tell Taehyung. He has been your best friends since childhood and any crush you had he never approved of. When you'd attempt to date, he'd claim that he was a male and understood how males worked. He'd never stopped you from dating but wasn't one to not say "I told you so" when the boys you chose weren't who they said they were.

Taehyung had caught you one night. The both of you live together in an apartment a few blocks away from the University you attended. You were careless this time. Taehyung being one of your closest friends, he didn't care much for personal space. He'd walk in on you while you showered and speak to you as if nothing was wrong. He'd walk around in his underwear and even walk into your room without as much as knocking. There had been many times Taehyung had caught you masturbating - this time it felt more humiliating because you were recording.

Taehyung wasn't going to let it go until you told him who you were sending those videos to, so when you did, you can see the glint in his eyes. He wasn't thrilled about you sending pictures to Namjoon, but you were a grown woman. You could do whatever you wanted and what you were doing wasn't illegal. Besides, Namjoon was a good guy unlike the others you were interested in.

You and Namjoon never spoke on the phone, nor spoke face to face - even though Facetime. You tried, but it failed each time. Namjoon claimed to never have the time and you were understanding - Taehyung not so much. But you were adamant about Namjoon being who he says he was. He posted regularly on his instagram and on his stories - the bike rides were your favorite.

'Do you like the gift?'

The message reads.

'I can't wait to see you ride it.'

You only agreed in riding the sex toy Namjoon had sent to you if you could do it on facetime. You had called and was surprised that he answered. It was dark but you could see his dimples even in the dark. Namjoon turns the camera to his exposed cock and you felt compelled to ride the cock he sent; your mind fantasizing that it was him you were riding.

Your pussy clenches around the dildo, juices sliding down the shaft of the large cock you rode. You moan each time your crash down on it - Namjoon's muffled moans in the background as you do so. He's currently pumping his cock roughly, eyes stuck on your tight pussy.

You moan his name loudly, not caring if Taehyung was home and could hear you. He would surely never let you live this down, but you were determined to cum with Namjoon.

You do cum, juices flooding out of you, and you release one last high pitch moan.

Taehyung does indeed laugh at you, making his own high-pitched moans imitating your own.

Taehyung begins to miss you. You were his best friend, someone who would always be there when he needed you. He took your time for granted. You had boyfriends and lovers, sure, but they never took up much of your time.

Namjoon, however, had. You'd often be on your phone when you were home, eyes glued to the screen completely. Your signature movie marathons were interrupted when the notification from your phone went off. You'd be smiling ear to ear and suddenly, he was second place.

You and Taehyung couldn't as much as play Mario Kart without you pausing to send a message to Namjoon and now, you were working his nerves. You were always his number one girl - hell, his number one person. As much as he had girlfriends, he'd never let them come between your friendship. His former girlfriends never understood that you were his best friend and came first - maybe that's why he was single now.

"We need to talk." Taehyung pipes up one day during dinner. You were both eating burgers and the constant sound of your phone going off was driving him irate.

You furrow a brow at Taehyung but nod.

"Are you sure you're speaking with Namjoon?"

You stop chewing. You turn towards him on the couch and stare for a few moments.

"Don't give me that look, Y/N." Taehyung rolls his eyes. "You said you never seen in face during these calls."

Maybe Taehyung was being picky and possibly confrontational. However, your well-being was his top concern. There was a possibility that whoever you were conversing with could be a creep using your naivety to their advantage.

"You do this all the time, Tae." You murmur, voice low. You no longer have an appetite.

"Y/N..." Taehyung sighs. He understands that tone in your voice. "I don't mean to hurt you-"

"You think Namjoon could never like me." you shrug your shoulders, biting your lip. "No man can ever like me in your eyes."

"That's not true!" Taehyung exclaims. He places his plate on the coffee table and turns to you fully. "I love you, Y/N. You know this. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of."

Taehyung was no fighter, but if your well-being was compromised, he would. He was a man, after all, and men had sick thoughts. Some thoughts he would never bring to the light, but they remained there, nonetheless. He'd hate to see you in a situation that could bring you to a depressive state.

"I just miss you. I miss us." Taehyung leans back into the couch and releases a sigh. "You're always talking to Namjoon and you never have time for me anymore."

"Aww," you began to smile. "Tae Tae!" you laugh. You lean forward to wrap your friend into a hug. "You missed me this much?"

Taehyung chuckles. "I hate you." he responds, but he returns your hug, nonetheless.

Taehyung was jealous, he'd admit. He'd never felt as if he'd ever lose you to another man before.

But Taehyung understood that one day you'd need to find a partner and eventually, you'd get married and have a family of your own. There would come a time where Taehyung won't be the most important person in your life anymore, and though it'll hurt, he'd have to get over it.

"You know I'd never leave you behind, Tae." you tell him, assuring. You lean back from the embrace. "Do you...think it's Namjoon?"

Taehyung bites his lips. He's unsure himself. A part of him wants to believe that Namjoon is the man you're speaking with. But he was sure this could be an episode of Catfish. You rarely speak to him on the phone, and when you do manage to facetime him, his face is never in the camera.

Taehyung swallows. "Well..." he trails off. "Why don't you ask to meet up?" Namjoon lives in the same city and goes to a neighboring university. Meeting up wouldn't be anything difficult if he is who he claims to be.

"I tried." you nod your head. "He...he says he's busy with school work and-"

"Y/N." Taehyung interrupts. "What did I tell you?"

You roll your eyes and groan out, "If a man wants to see me-"

"He'd make the effort to." Taehyung finishes with a nod. "Now, maybe this is Namjoon. But if you're going to keep fucking yourself-"

You widen your eyes and yelp. "Shut up!" you slap his shoulder.

Taehyung released a loud, deep laugh. "Don't hit me! I'm just saying, Y/N. You can't keep doing this virtual relationship when we live in the same city as the man."

You knew Taehyung was right. There's been many offers on your part to meet up, but they were always shut down. You tried to be supportive and understanding, but it was frustrating.

"Do you think he has a girlfriend, maybe?"

"Please don't put those thought in my head." you groan out, hands on your head now. "I cannot imagine being the other woman, Tae Tae."

Taehying shakes his head. "I'm just curious. Nothing more, nothing less." he assures. He knew what you were when you got into your own head. "Let's go out. It's happy hour."

You snicker. "You don't drink often."

"Duh." Taehyung responds matter-of-factly. "Half off all smoothies. Let's go, we only have about 30 minutes left."

This is what you adored about Taehyung. He was spontaneous in a way. He wasn't like other men and was a nerd at heart. You two had traditions. Every Monday there was a movie marathon you both attended in the living room - you both had later classes and didn't need to work. Wednesdays were considered errand day. Taehyung claimed to hate this day, but he never allowed you to hold a bag from the grocery store after running around throwing everything in the cart.

Taehyung was your best friend and you're grateful that you met him many years ago; and just as grateful that you maintained the friendship even into your adulthood.

"Y/N, open the door!"

You lean against the bathroom door, tears trailing down your eyes at an alarming pace. Your hands tangle in your hair and you're doing everything in your power to calm your breathing.

You're embarrassed.

You're traumatized.

You're disgusted with yourself more than anything.

Taehyung continues to knock on the door in hopes you'd open up to him. He hated seeing you cry. You appeared vulnerable and fragile. But he was your best friend and needed to help you through your pain.

You fingers pull your hair at the scalp while you attempted to drown out Taehyung's knocks and calls.

You were wrong about him - Namjoon. You couldn't face Taehyung now. You were positive that he wouldn't laugh in your face about how you were wrong about him. However, you wish that the ground would crumble up and swallow you whole.

While Taehyung and you were out getting smoothies, his eyes had caught an interesting site. Namjoon wasn't someone that you could miss easily. He was as tall as he was clumsy, and clumsy he surely was. Him dropping three smoothies onto the ground as soon as he got it causes Taehyung to offer help.

Taehyung and he chatted for a few moments, laughing at how clumsy he was. They weren't friends, but they weren't strangers.

That was your moment to enter. Maybe he didn't see you there with Taehyung. When else would you get the opportunity to meet with him? You introduced yourself and Namjoon offers a wide dimpled smile that faded each moment as you began to speak. He was confused - genuinely confused on what you were speaking of.

"You were talking to me?" Namjoon ponders aloud. "I-I...don't think it was me."

You felt hot upon hearing the words. The confusion on his face, mixed with the hesitance in his voice. He was telling the truth. He didn't know who you were in the slightest.

"Hold on!" Namjoon calls, but you sprint out of the cafe. Taehyung follows close behind you.

"Open the door, Y/N. Please talk to me." Taehyung is begging now, pleading with everything in him for you to speak with him.

Taehyung steps back when the door swings open. Your eyes were puffy, and cheeks stained with tears. He steps forward to engulf you in a hug, but you step around him. You make a dash to you into your room, but Taehyung is trailing close behind you. As you try to slam your door, Taehyung pushes his way through. "Ignoring me won't make it go away."

"I don't want to talk." you cry. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the fact that you were dumb enough to believe Namjoon would talk to you. Now, having to face Taehyung - someone who voiced his own concerns about it - was just a slap to the face.

"Y/N. I'm your friend!" Taehyung hisses. He doesn't mean for his words to come off harsh, but he would be damned if he allowed you to be alone in your own self-pity. "Let me comfort you."

And you do. Taehyung doesn't speak when you cry into his chest. He was sure his shirt would be covered in tears and snot by the time you were done, but nothing a little laundry detergent and water could help.

Taehyung rubs your back soothingly when you calm down. He doesn't push you to talk to him right away. He understands your hurt - he only wish he could take your pain away.

"I feel so stupid." you murmur after an hour. Taehyung and you now laid upon your bed, your head on his shoulder. "Namjoon must think I'm a loser."

"He doesn't." Taehyung responds. "He looked concern. I didn't have a chance to speak with him." You were his main concern, but he'll have to get in contact with Namjoon and explain the situation sooner or later.

"You were right." you bitterly scoff. "I showed my body to some creep like a whore."

"Stop it, Y/N. You aren't a whore." Taehyung turns to you. He's glad you aren't crying anymore, but he wasn't going to listen to you insult yourself. "You were catfished. it happens to all of us. Block that person immediately."

And you do. You were hesitant in the beginning. A part of you wanted to believe that the person you were speaking with was indeed Namjoon, but you understood you had to do what was best - which was blocking the catfisher. It shouldn't be anything to question. It was the obvious thing to do, but you can't stop yourself from feeling empty afterwards.

Taehyung on the other hand decided that he needed to keep you at eye level. He didn't wish to smother you - being overly affectionate about your situation would only make you think about the situation more often. But he knew he needed to be there for you as much as you'd let him.

A week thus far had passed, and Taehyung is unsure how you're handling everything. He's sure you're choosing to ignore everything. each moment he'd ask if you're alright, you'd brush him off as if it was obvious that you were indeed alright. "Why wouldn't I be?" you'd ask in response. Why wouldn't you be alright? You were catfished by who the hell knows. This person has your nudes plastered all over their phone. It would be traumatizing for anyone.

Another week passes and you're walking alongside Taehyung to your joint apartment. You're content that he hasn't spoken about the situation. You were glad you had a Taehyung in your life that cares for you, but you needed nothing more than to move on from this situation.

Taehyung presses the buttons to the apartment to unlock it. He twists the door and swings it open. He flicks on the lights and halts in his tracks.

You push around him to enter. Your eyes catch the scene before you and you suddenly feel sick to your stomach.

"Y/N..."

You don't respond to Taehyung. Instead, your eyes are flickering to the countless pictures hanging in the apartment - all of you. The same pictures you sent to the catfisher.

'Who the hell are you?'

The last thing you wanted to do was get in contact with someone you never wanted to speak with again. This same someone could be someone dangerous and deranged.

How the catfisher managed to figure out where you lived to just display countless pictures of you - the same ones you sent to them - was psychotic behavior.

Taehyung had watched you break down one too many times, but this was different. You cried even harder as you snatched all the pictures and crumbled them in your hands. He's unsure what to do - how to comfort you. He's breathing heavily and he's attempting to rack his brain around this situation.

Taehyung asks if you'd like to go to the police station and report this. It was stalking and harassment, surely there was something that could be done. But you turned the idea down. You were humiliated. How could you go to someone and admit that you were catfished in the most obvious way and now being tormented?

Your hands snatch your phone from your bed once you received a notification. It was them.

You read the message while licking your lips in anticipation.

'Hello, Y/N.'

You're pissed now. Why were they responding as if nothing was gone?

'I'm sure you feel stupid.'

They were taunting you now. As if you were some type of joke in their sick game.

'What do you want from me?'

You hesitantly wait for a response. You're unsure if you want to know. The type of material they had on you was enough to ruin your life.

'To embarrass you.'

Your eyes begin to water. You're racking your brain to figure out what you did to deserve this? Did they know who you were personally? You weren't one to be rude to anyone, even when they deserved it. You've gone to restaurants where your order has been royally fucked up and you've never complained. You were polite when needed to. At your own job, the customers and their attitudes were off the wall, however, you could never bring yourself to give the same energy they gave.

'You've allowed me to embarrass you. You've sent me these pictures. They belong to me now.'

Your stomach churns.

'And you also belong to me now.'

Taehyung knocks at your door. He hasn't heard from you in hours. He told himself it was best to leave you be for a while, but a while has passed. He feared you would hurt yourself. No, you never did anything to hurt yourself before, but you've never been through anything such as this.

Taehyung twists your doorknob and pokes his head in. The room is dark, but he can see your body curled on your bed, head faced down. He hears slight sobs, and he feels horrible. "Y/N?" he calls, stepping forward. "Don't cry."

It was easier said than done. It wasn't Taehyung being harassed by a random person who knew a little too much about you.

"We're going to get through this." Taehyung places a hand on your back and begins to rub. "We can go to the police-"

"No." you jolt up and shake your head. You proceed to wipe your eyes. "They h-have pictures and videos and..."

"Sshh..." Taehyung shakes his head. "I understand but-"

"But they own me." you scoff bitterly. "They said...they said I have to do things for them. Him. Them...I don't even know if it's one person or not."

Taehyung furrows a brow. "Do things for them? What the hell do they want?" he hisses.

You begin to cry harder. You wanted to vomit all over the place. You feel your heart begin to break at what your life was becoming.

"Tell me, Y/N." Taehyung's voice becomes louder with authority. "What do they-"

Taehyung hears another notification. It's not your phone, but his own. He looks down at his phone and shakes his head. "I don't understand."

Your eyes watch as Taehyung opens the message and begins to read.

'Hello, Taehyung. You claim to love Y/N and would do anything for her, what are you willing to do to get her out of trouble?'

"What trouble, Y/N?" Taehyung flickers his eyes from his phone screen to you. "You can come to me for anything, you know that, right?"

"I can't-"

"Y/N you can!" Taehyung hisses, but another message comes before he can continue.

'You two are best friends, are you not? How friendly are you?'

"What does he mean?" Taehyung scans your frightened expression.

"He wants you to..." you feel sick, lightheaded. "to...he wants to watch you and me..."

Taehyung's expression turns from confused to puzzled in a matter of seconds at the realization.

'I bet you're asking what I get out of this. I like to see people like you squirm. You don't deserve this, of course, but bad things always happen to good people.'

"There has to be a way to track these people." Taehyung scoffs in disbelief. There wasn't a way they were going to blackmail the two of you.

"I-I tried...I-I-"

"Calm down." Taehyung places a hand on your knee. "It'll-"

Taehyhung's phone rings in his hands. It's the same unknown person and he answers immediately. He was ready to cuss and scream at whoever it was, but they're speaking before him.

"You can do as I say or everyone in your contacts - both of your contacts - will know of these pictures."

Your breath hitches in your throat. You don't recognize the voice, but it appears to be using a face tone either way, possibly through an app.

"If you choose to do as I say, I will send you a link to a livestream."

"L-Livestream?" you choke. Who the hell would be watching?

"Don't worry, only I would be attending."

"What are we expected to do?" Taehyung murmurs.

"You know. Fuck her."

You began to cry.

"You may say you're just friends, but how could you not want to fuck her when your room is exactly besides hers?"

Taehyung's fists clench.

"Do you hear her fucking herself-"

"Stop!" Taehyung hisses. "What do you want? Money?"

"If I wanted money, I'd ask for money." the voice offers a deep chuckle. "I want to see how much of a slut she is."

Your tears are falling effortlessly down your cheeks.

"If she could bare it all for me and she wasn't certain who I truly was, what is she willing to do with someone she's known for years?"

"We don't have to do this."

You're trembling, unable to look Taehyung in the eye. You feel naked before him - and technically you are. You were by no means insecure when it came to Taehyung. He's seen you down to your bra, but that was because you were drunk out your mind. Your intoxicated state had vomited all over yourself, the floor and the surrounding people.

This? This was different. Taehyung had never seen you in lingerie before and you're sure he didn't want to. Your arms were crossed over your chest, the lingerie you wore clinging onto your skin uncomfortably. It was lacy and black, and you're positive that it would be a set you adored if you weren't forced into.

You were shocked by Taehyung agreeing to the terms of the pyscho catfisher. In the beginning, you had concluded he only did so because you were a crying mess at the catfishers words. But when the catfisher had contacted the both of you once more a week later, Taehyung had not gone against his word. Even with the amount of demands they had - you wearing a specific lingerie that you sent to you. They have given both you and Taehyung sexual enhancements - liquid shots that you were instructed to take over 20 minutes ago on a livestream.

You owned a laptop, but Taehyung owned a desktop setup that he was instructed to connect to a larger monitor so the catfisher could comment while being a creep and watching.

You glanced at Taehyung and sniffled. He wore nothing but his boxer and though you never thought about Taehyung sexually, you couldn't help your eyes from wandering. You blamed the sexual enhancement.

A notification sounds from the monitor. Your head snaps to it, reading what the catfisher has written.

'You two are boring.'

Taehyung scoffs. He turns his head towards you once more. "Y/N..."

'We don't have to do this.' But you did need to do this. The threats and harassment were becoming unbearable. If they needed to see you embarrass yourself and possibly ruin your friendship with Taehyung, then so be it.

"You need to fuck me, Tae."

Before Taehyung can react, another comment comes from the voyeuristic catfisher.

'I want to see foreplay. Sex isn't enjoyable without it.'

You gulp. You inhale deeply and exhale slowly. You haven't had sex with a man in almost a year. By the look of Taehyung's underwear, your dildo could not prepare you enough.

'You already took the enhancements. Make this worth your while.'

Taehyung turns to you fully. He's attempted as much as he could to not look at you. He wasn't a pervert - especially to you. He loved you. You weren't the typical fuck to him. "Try...laying down."

You nod your head. You allowed your arms to fall to your sides. Taehyung himself blames the sexual enhancement he took. Had your body always been this inviting?

"W-What are we gonna do?" you murmur to him, laying down on his bed. You feel awkward and wanted to die on the spot.

"Relax." Taehyung responds. He places a hand on your knee and gently rubs it. "I'll never hurt you, Y/N, baby."

You feel the gush rush between your legs. Goosebumps run up your arms and shakingly release a breath. Taehyung's voice could possibly never be this deep before.

"You trust me, don't you?" Taehyung kneels down, brown eyes staring into yours. When you nod your head, Taehyung offers a small smile. "Open your legs."

The lace allows Taehyung to get a glimpse at how wet your pussy was. He grunts lowly, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

Your back arches when you feel Taehyung send a kiss on your clothed clit. You head is spinning - this was your best friend. You could even consider Taehyung to be like a brother, now you're not so sure.

Taehyung rubs his lips against your clothed clit, his cock twitching in his underwear. It's tight and needs to be torn off, but you weren't someone he would fuck into the mattress like a savage. He had to prep you first. Your scent is inviting - it makes his mouth water.

You can feel Taehyung's finger push the lace panty aside. You're fully exposed in front of him now.

Taehyung doesn't hold back. He licks a slow stripe up your clit and watches your reaction. It causes him to lick and suck when he notices you're just as into as he is - this frightens him. Taehyung suckles on your clit - his best friends clit - so savagely that his sucking is echoing off his bedroom walls.

You tell yourself that this is a onetime thing - that this could never happen again. It was the sexual enhancement that has Taehyung so deep into your pussy that you're enjoying it.

Your moans send Taehyung over the edge. He hooks his hands beneath your knees and locks you in place so he could continue to suck on your clit. He watches you, mouth agape and moaning for him so loudly that he's leaking like a teenager in his underwear.

"Tae..." you gasp his name, flinching at the overstimulation. "....fuck."

Taehyung lifts his head and licks his lips. "Are you okay, baby?"

You moan again because shit, Taehyung was sexy. You never thought this man was anything but your cute best friend who enjoyed playing dorky games and even more dorky hobbies. Was this what his former girlfriends experienced?

Taehyung enters two fingers inside of you. He pumps slowly, astonished at how wet and tight you were.

It's amazing that the both of you were forgetting the camera recording the livestream, but you two will blame the sexual enhancement.

"You're so wet, baby." Taehyung hisses, pumping his fingers faster. "So wet and so beautiful."

You groan, eyes squeezed shut. Your legs are quivering.

Taehyung's free hand allows your leg to fall. His hand snatches at the bra of your lingerie and tugs. He needed to suck on your breast - plump and ready. Your nipples are erect for him when he snatches them out and he doesn't hesitate to suck on them.

You can't hide your moans any longer. Your breast was a sensitive area, and Taehyung doesn't slow when he's sucking.

Taehyung's breathing quickens, sweat trickling down his forehead. He can sense that you were close to cumming just from how tight your pussy clenches around his fingers. He couldn't wait to be able to fuck you.

"You're going to cum all over my fingers, aren't you?" Taehyung's sucking extends outside of your nipples. He's biting your breast, appearing completely animalistic, and leaving behind marks and bruises.

"Yes, I'm gonna cum." you nod your head, hips wiggling to get away from the sensation. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." you hiss, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The sound of the squirt sprouting out mixed with your sudden screams are a perfect melody, perfectly in sync. The bed is wet, as are you and him.

“I’m gonna fuck you." Taehyung hisses, pushing his underwear down.

Taehyung is huge. His cock is sprung, pink and veiny. It was perfect.

Taehyung places the tip of his cock on your clit and groans. "Fuck, baby, you're so sexy." he murmurs, eyes glued on your wet, glistening clit. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

You nod without a thought. If he could finger fuck you into oblivion, you had a wild ride ahead of you.

Taehyung enters you and hisses. There was no time to hesitate. He fucks into you deeply, hands clenching your hips. He lifts your hips so that he has full control to get deeper inside of you.

"Shit." you moan, shaking your head. Your eyes catch on the site, Taehyung so focus on his thrusts that he doesn't notice you observing him.

Taehyung was so beautiful, so caring. You couldn't think of another man that you loved more than Taehyung.

Taehyung bites his lips, eyes flickering to yours. His heart jumps to find your eyes - filled with lust - already on him. "Feels good?" he smirks, nails digging into your skin deeper.

"I love you, Tae." you slur your words, you're positive you could cum again right now.

Taehyung halts his thrusts. "Huh?"

"I love you." you sigh. "Please don't stop." you beg.

You loved him.

Taehyung knows this. Of course you love him. You two were best friends - the bestest of friends.

But this confession of love appeared personal.

"I love you, too, baby." Taehyung flips you around. He slams your face into his bed. Your ass is in the air, and he sends a quick slap upon it before entering you again. "How much do you love me?"

You're unable to give a response with the power in his thrusts. Your hands clench his bedsheets.

"I love you so much, Tae." you moan, eyes squeezed shut. He was fucking too good that you couldn't do anything but say you loved him. You're unsure if a man has ever made you feel as good as Taehyung did - and that was deadly. This was someone you'd had to look at once the sexual high (and enhancement) wore off.

Taehyung groans, hips snapping into you. His right hand slaps your cheek. "Say it again, baby. Say you love me."

You enjoyed being hit, Taehyung notes, you clench around him.

"I-I love you...." you're cumming and moaning uncontrollably.

Taehyung was near himself. You sounded so beautiful; your pussy was amazing. Your body captivates him and he surely did adore you. The sayings were correct - sex with those you loved was far more intimate when it was with someone you loved.

Taehyung shoots his cum inside of you, cursing as he does so. His cum shoots out of you and it drips down your clit and onto his bedsheets.

You fall into the bed, breathing deeply. Your eyelids were heavy.

Taehyung falls besides you and wraps an arm around your waist.

Namjoon hands squeezes the tip of his cock, his eyes are glues to the screen. He came just in time with you and Taehyung, the sight amazing. He continues to eye his screen to see the both of you soundly asleep, forgetting about you livestream show they put on for him.

Namjoon was but a man. People would say he was a sick bastard if he found out what he was doing, but he wouldn't call himself sick. He was just...a man. He had needs like the rest of the men around the world had. Sure, maybe what he was doing wasn't necessarily "human decency" but he couldn't help his self.

Namjoon understood that he had a problem at a young age. He loved to see women in positions such as this - humiliated. Degraded. Helpless.

Namjoon once attempted to get help. He spoke to therapist about his sadism. He didn't want to hurt people, no, but watching and enjoying people be humiliated brough him great pleasure.

Namjoon was a voyeur. He adored being able to sit and attend the sex parties. The gangbangs were his favorite - the sight of a woman being completed used for pleasure brought him over the edge. He understood he was a sick individual, but he was far too deep into this.

Namjoon groans, pumping his cock in his hand at the site of Taehyung pounding inside of you. It was obvious the sexual enhancement had only enhanced the sexual attraction that was already there. Taehyung licked your pussy with such need and desire - only could be done with someone he truly loved and desired.

Taehyung fucks you with such need, almost as if he was waiting for this very moment. Namjoon cums too quickly for his liking, but it wasn't long until he was erect again.

The moans from Taehyung and you were the icing on the cake. You were far into the sex that you forgot he was watching. You should thank him, truly. You were getting the best sex of your life by your best friend - yelling out constant "I love you's". Namjoon was a match-maker, he thinks.

When you fall asleep, Namjoon manages to clean himself. He showers and washes the clothes he had on prior. His mind wanders to the previous weeks. How you had introduced yourself to him and how he had to pretend not to know who you were. You were hurt and the hurt does nothing but turn him on. He remembers the way you ran out of the smoothie shop in pure embarrassment.

Taehyung calls after you, but not before stopping by Namjoon first.

"How do you think she'll handle it?" Namjoon asked, furrowing a brow.

Taehyung shrugs. "She's embarrassed. That was part of the plan."

As Namjoon exits his shower, his phone rings. He strolls back towards his bedroom where his desktop laid, livestream still on. Taehyung was not in site, but you remained asleep on the bed.

Namjoon grasps his phone and hums. He answers. "You're calling sooner than expected."

Taehyung chuckles.

"How does it feel?" Namjoon asks. "To finally fuck Y/N?"

Taehyung groans. "Like heaven." he admits.

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes.

Taehyung's plan to get you into bed was a wild one. When the younger man had come to him with the plan, he had laughed in his face. However, Taehyhung remained stoic. He was serious, and Namjoon was intrigued.

Taehyung was no fool to Namjoon's own kinks and fetishes. Who else would be the one to go along with his plan? Sure, Taehyung's plan was a bit insane and time consuming. "Talk to Y/N pretending to be yourself, get her comfortable and then pretend to not know who the hell she is."

It took Namjoon months to get to know you. You were a genuine person, and the wholesome part of him understood what he was doing was wrong. But, the chance to witness you vulnerable had caused him to go along with the sick plan by no one other than your best friend.

"By all means necessary." Taehyung had assured, and Namjoon had delivered.

You were a beauty. You weren't the outgoing type so to get you to become intimate with him wasn't something to be done easily. But Namjoon was persistent. He got you comfortable enough that you bore it all for him - and he had the leverage he needed to break you.

Taehyung had received all the pictures and videos you had sent Namjoon - what he did to them, Namjoon had a clue. But he wasn't one to judge; he did the same.

"What now?" Namjoon sits at his desk. You stirred but didn't wake. "Is the game over?"

Taehyung sighs. "No." he responds. "I haven't compensated you."

Namjoon scoffs. "You don't need to pay me. It was fun."

Taehyung is silent on the other end, so silent that Namjoon checks to see if he had hung up.

"Don't you want to fuck her?"

The question catches Namjoon by surprise. "H-huh?"

Taehyung snorts on the other end.

"Tae, it's not funny." Namjoon hisses. "Stop joking."

'I'm not." Taehyung quips. "Her pussy still belongs to me, Joon-ah. I just want you to...have a little taste." Taehyung voice seemingly darkens, and Namjoon stiffens.

"Is that so?" Namjoon questions.

"Of course. I have to be there, though." Taehyung says. "I'm sure we can come up with another plan for her to let the both of us have her."

"At the...same time?" Namjoon can just feel his cock harden. He never participated in a threesome before and just the thought has him ready to cum once more.

"Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips.

"Okay." Namjoon needs to keep his composure. He couldn't allow his excitement to be exposed at this moment. You were once considered off-limits, but now Taehyung was extending his possession for him. "What's the plan?"

Taehyung clicks his tongue. "I'll get back at you." he says. "I know you're hard again."

Namjoon cheeks flushs. Taehyung knew him too well.

"I'm going to fuck Y/N again and you're going to watch." Taehyung sing-songs. "Give you a little show of just how good my pussy feels. How good it'll soon feel for the both of us."

Taehyung hangs the phone up and like clockwork, he's back into the room. Namjoon gulps. Again, he was but a man - as fucked up as it was.

965 notes · View notes

soup2007 · 3 months

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FISHUARY DAY 6 !!!!! catfish/pleco :3 I went with a simple red tailed catfish couple,I had to do at least two,I absolutely adore catfish <3

Also,I had an argument with someone on discord, accusing me of just adding an outline to a blurred photo,so here's the process. I basically just use a blending tool to make a basic shaded shape,then I use effects like posterize,and I adjust the sharpness and colors, my art program is ibis paint on my phone :3

Art challenge by @fish-daily

#fish #fishuary2024 #catfish #red tailed catfish #fish art #freshwater fish #aquatic animals #I LOVE CATFISH #i be singing underwater friends while drawing these #fishuary day 6

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for-a-longlongtime · 7 months

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Excuse me.

EXCUSE ME.

It Has Been Captured.

The baseball hat with the curls.

Seems to be the only photo in which he’s wearing it, but one is enough.

Hello, Frankie 2023.

I know this has zero to do with any TF2 probability or with anything at all.

BUT LOOK.

I’m sure someone can do a much better job than the 2 min photo improvement I did on my iPhone but man. This might just be my favorite picture of the day.

It’s obviously not a Standard Heating Oil hat but damn that sure as hell is a nice match for the blue Frankie hat.

Cc for next class discussion: @rhoorl @legendary-pink-dot @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @imalrightllama @basicoccult @morallyinept @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @secretelephanttattoo @chaoticfestninja @sin-djarin @millennial-teenybopper @inept-the-magnificent

(Damnit who else wanted to join the Catfish Pond Graduate Program? Lost my overview. Drop a comment and I’ll add you to the list so it can be copied next time)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier 2 #the catfish of my heart #the catfish pond degree program #my friends and I are very unwell

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beefrobeefcal · 5 months

Note

I have a Thot to contribute for the Beefro Repentance Tiddie Fic, in case it is helpful or shall I say... titillating? 😂 (I'm sorry)

Since it didn't specify who gets milked, maybe we go back to late-stage pregnant Mouse? A little lactation play where Frankie drinks from her after dinner until he tops off his big full belly? (Big enough to rival her bump 🥵)

Or since it sounds like nonnie wants some male breast play too...add Frankie and Mouse playing with each other's delectable chests first?

Anyway just some ideas! I wasn't expecting your poll to turn out how it did, not gonna lie 😄 But hey, I'll enjoy wherever you take us with this!

You're a lifesaver, Reby!

fucking RIGHTS we need to expose Frankie's Breeding, Pregnancy & Lactation Kinks!

Smuttiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Mouse's Relief

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: Frankie helps Mouse find relief.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 2,382

Content Warning: pregnancy talk, main character pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, 5-knuckle shuffle (male), lactation, breast feeding, breast milk, cumming in pants, weight talk, eating, sore breasts

Author's Notes: Thank you @rebel-held for the assistance you provided in your THOT. Thank you to @thehalflifeofloveisforever, @theywhowriteandknowthings & @neverwheremoonchild for their input, eyes and THOTs.

--------<3---------

It had been a day. You were now on maternity leave, supposedly to be giving yourself some down time before your baby arrived, but you’d been anything but relaxed today.

Your baby had been kicking the same rib over and over for the last three days, not allowing you to have any restful sleep; your big belly weighed heavily on you, making movements hard; and to top it all off, your milk had come in, making your breasts extremely sore and heavy.

Pregnancy was so uncomfortable.

Thankfully, it was a Friday and that meant you had Frankie all to yourself from the moment he got home to Monday morning at 6:00 am. He’s been so patient and caring with you, rubbing your feet and back, switching sides of the bed with you so you could be closer to the bathroom, and giving you your space when you needed to just be left alone because of the raging hormones in your body, then running back the moment you needed to be held.

Despite being so uncomfortable, you decided to do something special for him to dinner and make his favourite – lasagna.

****

Frankie arrived home, opening up the back door to the smell of his absolute favourite. He smiled and walked into the kitchen, seeing you leaning against the counter, your hands holding your phone and resting on your big belly, while you scrolled through whatever app you were hooked on today. He couldn’t help but notice how much more pronounced your chest was, and his cock twitched in his jeans. But before he could do anything, he knew he needed to test the waters first.

“Hey mama…”, he said softly with a smile, coming up beside you and splaying his hand over your middle. He pressed a kiss on your temple and moved his hand over your sore side. “How’s the rib?”

You sighed with a tired smile. “Sore… but okay. How was work?”

He didn’t want to talk about work. Not when that sigh heaved your swollen tits, making his cock twitch harder.

“Baby…”, he cooed as he kissed your neck, continuing to test whether you’d let him go further, and he reached up and gently palmed your tit.

You hissed in pain, and he jumped back. “What? What happened?”

“They hurt… so much… I’m sorry, Frankie. Please don’t touch my boobs.”

“What- why are they so sore, Mouse?”, he asked, sounding concerned with a slight hint of annoyance.

“Milk’s coming in, and they’re swollen and-“

“I can see that.”, he stated, his eyes glued to your ample cleavage.

“Frankie.” Your tone was indicative of your own irritation and a warning that your hormonal temper was rearing its head.

He looked up to your face and offered a sheepish grin.

“Okay… no touching the tiddies.”

You sighed again, not wanting your weekend to start with your mood. “It’s okay, baby. Dinner will be ready soon so you should have your shower. “

He nodded with a smile and kissed you quickly before heading to the bedroom.

As Frankie stood in the shower, he tried to ignore his semi hard-on but his mind kept slipping back to the sight of you, round and heavy, tits swollen and all because of him. He gripped his now fully hard cock and pumped himself, thinking about how good you feel and smell and look, and…

He came fast, his come hitting the shower wall then washing away under the spray of the shower. As he calmed down, he thought about how quickly he hit his release by his own hand when his mind was filled with you being pregnant. He grinned to himself as he finished his shower, making a mental note to take some more pictures of you like this for his personal spank bank, especially if you decided one kid was enough. He dried off and got dressed, heading back out into the kitchen with you.

*****

The lasagna was gone, and Frankie’s belly was the only evidence that it had ever existed. You couldn’t stomach it, so he had eaten your portion as well, so you had some fruit and soup instead.

“Fuck me, Mouse… we both look like we’re about to pop.”, he chuckled, trying to pull down his T-shirt, the same one that fit just fine a few weeks ago.

“Head to the couch, I’ll clean up.”, you said, standing up and wincing.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely not, mama.”, he grunted as he stood up. “I’ll clean up later. You need to relax.”

After some coaxing, Frankie had convinced you to have a bath and he would be ready for you when you were done.

As you soaked, Frankie sat on the couch, full belly sitting heavily on his lap, and he searched online for how to help you with your sore breasts. He read about warm compresses and massaging, then his heart almost jumped into his throat and his cock came to standing attention at once when he read that he could express the milk by sucking it out. He groaned and palmed at his hard on through his sweatpants. Yup. He was going to be so helpful.

You got out of the bath, feeling more relaxed, minus your breasts, and got into your lounge clothes, then made your way out to the living room. You stopped in the doorway and watched as Frankie grunted looking at his phone with a feral intensity and his hand palming his crotch.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Your tone was teasing and the grin on your face told him to not stop on your account.

“I think I can help you… with your tiddy problem.”, he grunted, tossing his phone to the couch and standing up. He walked towards you, his eyes fixed on your chest, and he licked his lips.

“Frankie! I said they’re sore!”

“I know… and I wanna help.”, he groaned as he pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck. If it wasn’t for the fact you both had pronounced bellies, you know you’d feel his cock pressing into you.

His hand came up and slipped under your shirt and he gently caressed your breast through your flimsy bralette. Your breath hitches and he hushed you and kissed your neck again.

“Don’t think you understand what you do to me, looking like this, mama… your fucking body is just…”

He grunted as his cock tried to find friction when he bucked his hips, and he softly twisted your nipple. You gasped and let out a pained whine, but he held you firmly where you were.

“Lemma help, mama… please.”, he pleaded against your neck, breathing heavily. “Lemme make it better.”

You winced again at his hands, as gentle and wonderful as they felt, and seriously considered telling him off. But the desperation in his voice plus the warmth of his hand on your swollen breast gave you pause.

He stood up, nudging his nose against yours, his eyelids heavy and he whispered please again. You nodded and he led you to the couch.

Once you were seated, he went to the bathroom and grabbed a few towels, and put them beside you. He leaned down, holding himself above you with his hand on the back of the couch. He kissed you, and you could tell he was holding himself back as he did. He released your lips and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, Mouse, you look so good like this…”, he panted as he stood up. “I’m gonna help…”

He dropped to his knees between yours and pushed your shirt up over tour belly, kissing and mouthing his way up. You watched him with wide eyes, and it dawned on you what he was planning.

“Frankie? What are you gonna-“

“Gonna make it better, mama… gonna help you.”, he grunted again, pushing your shirt your breasts and pulling it over your head.

He sat back on his heels and looked you over with a ravenous ferocity in his eyes.

“Fuck... yes, mama... look so good...”, he groaned, his hands going to your swollen middle. “No idea what it does to me to see you stretching out your shirts because you're so full of my baby... tits looking amazing....”

He dove his face forward, kissing your belly again, moving up to mouth your nipple through the jersey knit fabric of your bralette. It felt amazing, but also completely confusing and overwhelming. The only time Frankie had expressed this much admiration for your swollen body was when he was drunk; he would get handsy and needy and would whine and beg you to ride him or let him fuck you in front of a mirror so he could see you. He was never this demanding and gropey and domineering. This was new and you were not mad at it.

“Frankie...”, you whined as you panted when he nipped just a bit too hard at your breast. “Please! They’re so sore... please be gentle!”

“I know... I know, mama... I’m gonna help.”, he cooed, sucking your nipple lightly through your bralette.

You sucked in your breath and your hand went to his head, gripping his hair, and you winced as he added pressure with his hand to your other breast, causing it to leak a bit. When he felt the warmth of your milk saturate your bralette, he sat back and stared. His pupils were so blown out, you could no longer differentiate where his irises were, and his eyes were fixed on your clothed, leaking breast.

“Frankie... are you gonna...?”, you asked quietly through heavy breathing.

His eyes didn’t move as he nodded slowly and licked his lips. His hands came up and pulled your bralette off, releasing your heavy breasts, and his mouth immediately grasped one of your nipples and sucked. You let out a breathy whine and once again gripped his hair, this time with both hands. The pinch and pull of him sucking to get your milk moving was almost too much until you felt a release. You sighed at the relief that washed over you and Frankie groaned as milk spurted into his mouth.

He swallowed mouthful after mouthful of milk, grunting as he suckled, despite his belly already being full from his big dinner. He didn’t care about the ever-tightening feeling in his middle; his mind had a singular focus and that was what he had in his mouth.

When he felt like he couldn’t get more from that breast, he released your nipple and licked it, looking up at you with dark eyes and panting. He moved over to your other breast, now leaking even more, and nudged it with his nose and his tongue darted out, licking up the escaped milk.

“Jesus... Mouse... you taste so fucking good...”, he grunted as he lapped up the warm liquid. His voice sounded deep and primal, like your weeping tits had unlocked some deep seeded need Frankie hadn’t tapped into yet.

You locked eyes with him again and he made a low growl as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and began sucking on it greedily.

You leaned forward a bit and one of your hands slid down, looking for his hard cock, but his belly was in the way. You knew he was full before, but now his belly would rival yours. It felt tight and as your fingers rubbed and prodded him, and you felt his body move as he rutted his hips.

“Poor baby... bet your dick is just aching... but you’re too big for me to get it... I can feel how full you are, Frankie baby... belly’s getting big... but you like this, don’t you... getting fat because you put a baby in me... that’s it... good boy...”, you cooed, stroking his hair.

A low moan emanated from Frankie and his grip on your thighs tightened and he panted through gulps. When he finally drained the second breast, he sat back, and you released his hair. He looked like he was in another realm of existence, with milk dripping down his chin and his eyes blown out. He was panting and fell back and laid on the floor, his extremely full belly prominently jutting out above him and groaned.

It took some work, but you got up off the couch, pulled on your sweater, and stood above Frankie, gently rocking back and forth, rubbing your belly.

“Baby... your belly’s bigger than mine right now.”, you smiled, nudging his lovehandle gently with your foot and noted the wet patch on the crotch of his sweatpants. You grinned, knowing exactly what that was.

He lifted his head and looked at his swollen middle and dropped it back down again. “Fuck, I’m full.”, he groaned and closed his eyes.

“I’d get on the floor and give you a belly rub, but...”, you grinned, motioning to your baby bump. “We both don’t need to be stuck on the down there.”

Frankie huffed a laugh, his eyes opening as he looked up at you. “How are your boobs?”

“Much better, thank you.”, you chuckle, as he struggles to lug himself upright.

Once he stands up, you can see his back arching to accommodate the weight in his belly. You reach forward and rub his tummy and smile.

“Kinda over did it, huh?”, you asked, giving him a pat and leaning towards him to press a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”, he murmured as smiled and splayed his hand on your belly, feeling your little one moving around.

“So, you came in your pants, huh?”, you said pointedly with an eyebrow raised.

He huffed a laugh, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and pulled you to his side. “Yeah... I came in my fucking pants.”

“Sucking on my tits was so good that you came in your pants? You kinky bastard...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... ”, he grinned, nudging you towards the bedroom and swatting at your backside.

You stopped and grinned, biting your lower lip, as you felt his belly press into your back, and he wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Watch your mouth... carrying my baby can only save you from so much, Mama.”, he growled into your ear as he guided you down the hallway and int your bedroom.

--------<3---------

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #you ask beefro answers #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#🥩#the catfish & the mouse one shot #friend of beefro

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pedroshotwifey · 5 months

Text

Christmas Countdown Day 15 - Presents

The A-Team

Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, Frankie and reader were in the military, Frankie and reader have kids, established relationship (husband and wife), breeding kink if you squint, oral sex (f), piv sex, fluff, smut, Frankie being both a menace and a pussy eating king, kids are unnamed, no age is mentioned so reader could be any age you want, stuff im forgetting

Summary: Frankie distracts you from wrapping gifts--not that you're complaining

A/N: Hey, y'all. I'm tired out of my mind, and I hope y'all enjoy this :') Tmw's prompt involves Dieter Bravo, so if you have any ideas for that, feel free to send them in <3

***

You’re finally in your zone.

The kids are at their grandparents, Frankie’s in the shower, and you’re sitting in the middle of the living room with a stack of presents waiting to be wrapped. It’s not every day that you get a chance to get something like this done without the interruption of your kids, no matter how much you love them.

You have the coffee table shoved off to the side so you are able to spread your supplies out across the expanse of the room. There’s Christmas music playing lowly from a radio in the kitchen. You hum along as you attempt to wrap a mini Barbie dreamhouse that your daughter had been begging for.

It’s one of those boxes where you just can’t seem to get the perfect amount of paper to cover it.

You sigh in frustration as you attempt to pull the ends together, straining the paper on the sides. Of course you’re about an inch short. Giving up for now, you pull the box away from the paper and reach for a slightly smaller one.

This one contains a lego kit for your youngest son. You remember picking it up in the store and discreetly showing Frankie. Your son had been with you, thankfully distracted by your phone as Frankie quickly snagged it and snuck away to purchase it while you continued shopping.

When he came back to your side from putting it under a blanket in the car, neither of you had enough composure to cover your smiles. You still get such a giddy feeling when the two of you complete ‘heists’ every now and again. It reminds you that, even three kids later, the A-team’s still got it.

Of course, once you had gotten pregnant with your eldest, you had left that line of work, and Frankie along with you. You miss it every now and again, and you can tell that he does too, but neither of you would trade your life now for anything. Your husband and children make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

Just then, Frankie walks into the living room, finding you smiling and staring off into space as your thoughts distract you.

“What’s got you so happy, hermosa?” he asks as he walks to you and bends down to plant a kiss on your head. You snap out of your trance and snag his collar as he tries to straighten back up, instead pulling him to your lips for a quick kiss.

He smiles at you when you let go of him and takes a seat on the sofa you’re sitting in front of. You set the lego box back down and lean your back between Frankie’s legs.

“Just thinking about us,” you tell him dreamily.

“Oh?” Frankie says with a slight chuckle. “What about us?” This time his tone holds more of a suggestive quality as he reaches a hand down to tuck a fallen bit of hair behind your ear.

You roll your eyes and swat his leg.

“Not like that, you horndog,” you tease, laughing all the same. “Thinking about how good we used to be.”

“What do you mean, baby? We’re fucking awesome,” Frankie says without a hint of sarcasm. You laugh at him.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I guess we are.”

You suddenly pull yourself up, standing in front of your husband. He puts his hands on your waist as you gaze into each other's lust-full eyes. He gives your hip a slight squeeze, and you straddle his lap, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and slotting your lips against his.

Frankie wraps his strong arms around you as he moans into your mouth, still insatiable for you even after all these years. His lips are soft as they glide effortlessly against yours.

You can feel the way he hardens beneath you, and you grind into the prominent bulge presented. Frankie whimpers at the friction, hardening further.

“Fuck, need to be inside you, baby,” Frankie says, near breathless when he pulls away from your kiss. You nod at him, jumping up and tugging him after you. You both strip as you make your way to a spot that’s not covered by wrapping paper.

Frankie nods at the space, and you quickly lay down. You can feel the heat coming from the fireplace lit beside you, the half of your body further from it erupting with goosebumps. Shivering slightly, you watch your husband descend to his knees in front of you, situating himself between your thighs.

He backs down, keeping eye contact until his face is level with your cunt. Your breathing is heavy as you watch in anticipation until he puts his mouth on you, immediately enveloping your clit. You moan loudly, suddenly extremely thankful that the house is empty tonight.

Frankie’s tongue gets to work, quickly flicking over your clit and then moving lower to dip inside your dripping hole. He alternates speeds and techniques, speeding up and slowing in rapid succession as he moves his face up and down and left to right.

He knows your body almost better than you do, hitting all of your favorite spots without effort. You jump each time he does so, your hand flying to tug at his thick waves after a particularly pleasurable spark erupts.

Frankie groans as you tug him further into you by his hair, the sharp sting on his scalp making his hips rut down into nothing.

He jolts his arms out to secure you by your waist, pulling you further to him now. Your legs kick out as your head falls back with the added pressure, your grip in his hair tightening.

“Fuck, Frankie!” you half yell, half moan. The intense pleasure quickly builds your orgasm, bringing you to the edge before you even realize you had been approaching.

“Oh, f-fuck! I-” you’re cut off by your orgasm, your body shaking and going warm as Frankie pushes his tongue into your cunt. He laps up your cum as quickly as it spills out of you, moaning the entire time.

As soon as you’ve ridden out your high, Frankie’s on top of you again, desperately locking his lips with yours as he notches himself at your entrance and pushes in with one thrust. The force of it punches a good bit of air out of you, and you have to pull away from him to catch your breath.

“So fucking good, hermosa,” Frankie begings to ramble once his mouth is free, already pussy-drunk. “Wet and tight and warm, pulling me in so good like you’re scared to lose this cock. You won’t; ‘s all yours, baby.”

You whimper and moan at his dirty words, already feeling that fiery sensation burning low in your belly as he thrusts into your cervix with a delicate precision. He’s somewhere between fucking you and making love; almost like he wants to take his time to savor you, but he’s so addicted that he can’t allow himself to do that.

“Feel so good, Francisco,” you tell him, kissing his stubbly jaw. “Want you to f-fill me up, baby.”

“I know, I know. Gonna pump you so fuckin’ full of me you’ll be dripping my cum for days,” Frankie doesn’t miss a beat, his hips stuttering lightly at the thought he conjured.

“Oh–please,” you beg, unsure what for at this point.

“I got you, honey, I got you.”

Frankie kisses every sliver of skin on your face as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. He only separates himself once to push his thumb into your mouth, allowing you to coat it in your saliva before bringing it over your sensitive clit.

He begins to rub slow circles, and it pushes you past your peak, your hips bucking up as you moan loudly. Frankie makes a choking sound as you squeeze around his thick cock, triggering his own orgasm.

He groans into your neck as he releases his cum into you, your pussy milking every drop. You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your skin almost glittering in the firelight.

When you both settle down, Frankie still nestled inside you despite his cock softening, you simply watch each other. He lays his head down on your steadily rising and falling chest, observing your beauty as the flames flicker and make your skin shine.

As badly as you want to close your eyes and go to sleep right now, you sigh deeply and accept the fact that it’s smarter for you to finish your task. You might now have another opportunity to wrap gifts outside of your cramped bedroom floor other than tonight.

“Alright, baby,” you say with a gentle finality that makes Frankie sigh as well. “I need to finish wrapping the presents. You’re welcome to join me.”

You look down at him, raising your eyebrows in a way that makes your last quip more of an unskippable task than an invitation. Frankie juts his lips out, looking at you with a pointed stare.

“Only if we can do it naked,” he bargains. You bite your lip to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Frankie!” you gasp, trying to conceal your laughter.

“What?” he asks with feigned innocence.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, feeling like a child all over again.

***

Thank you for reading, I love you all <3

lmk if u want to join the countdown taglist

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

#friends of the juice collective #pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #fluff #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #wifeys christmas countdown #christmas countdown #chistmas #frankie friday

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papitopascal · 7 months

Text

Soulmates aren’t always a romantic relationship 🥰

#pascalispunk #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dave york #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #i love pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #sarah paulson #oscar isaac #pedro pascal fandom #friendship #friends forever #friends for life

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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

Note

i headcannon that benny and reader blast rihanna while closing the gym. it becomes a tradition that they blast music and dance around while closing. it gets to the point that the boys start wondering why benny keeps being late to their hangouts after his work. at some point they catch benny blowing his back out and reader recording and laughing at benny

Benny, Better Have My Money

Chapter Five | Drabble for the Through the Scope series | Chapter Six

*best read in between chapter 5 & 6*

Rating: IDK ?? everyone ??

Word Count: 1029

TW: tooth rotting friend fluff w/ Benny & some ass throwing ?!?!

Notes: anon, i wish i could kiss that beautiful brain of yours for thinking of this absolutely fucking hilarious scene thats now 100% canon in the through the scope series to me HAHAHA !! i hope i did some justice to your brilliant idea & thank u so so much for submitting it ((: this one is for u ! happy reading <3

*i wrote this w/o looking over it because the idea was just to good so if you see any grammatical errors.. no you dont*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Closing up after a long shift was never fun. Well, it was never fun until you started working for Benny. After the last guests were ushered out and the doors were locked, you were put in charge of the gyms music. It was only fair since Benny had free reign during operating hours after all. Plus, your taste in music wasn’t exactly family friendly.

“Alright, what are we feeling this evening? Lady Gaga? Megan Thee Stallion? Doja Cat? Maybe some Rico Nasty? What artist really says ‘I want to clean this whole gym and look hot while doing it’ to you?”

“The evening song choices are all yours. I’m way too tired to even think about makin’ another decision right now.”

“Well,” You say as you start scrolling through artists on his phone to find one that will bring the energy that both of you need to get this done. “If you’re so tired, why are you going out with the guys after this?”

“You know that doesn’t count.” He’s currently working his way through cloroxing all the workout benches and weights. “The only decision I have to make when I’m there is if I want another drink or not and that's easy. Of course I want another fuckin’ drink!”

“Touché,” You laugh as you find the perfect playlist for the evening. “Let’s get this cleaning party started!”

Rhianna’s Bitch Better Have My Money starts blasting at full volume from the gym's speakers as you make your way over to the basket full of used towels.

Bitch, better have my money

Y’all should know me well enough

Bitch, better have my money

Please don’t call me on my bluff

Pay me what you owe me

“Oh fuck yeah! I love Rhianna!” He yells as he turns to you.

You pull out a towel, point to him from across the gym, and start swinging it over your head as you lip sync to the song playing.

Kamikaze if you think that you gon’ knock me of the top

Shit, your wife in the back seat of my brand new foreign car

Don’t act like you forgot

I call the shot, shot, shots.

Benny makes finger guns and pretends to fire them at you on each beat. “Sing it, girl!”

The two of you run dramatically to each other in the middle of the gym and start dancing like crazed animals. Each of your tasks having been long forgotten as soon as the music started. You both know by now that neither one of you will be leaving anytime soon.

***

“Where the fuck is your brother, Will?” Pope huffs.

Frankie, Pope, and Will have all been waiting at their table for Benny to show up for 45 minutes now. They turned the waitress away three times before they caved and ordered a round for themselves. Hoping that a light buzz would satiate them.

“I’ve been texting him, but he’s not answerin’!” Will explains. “His location says that he’s still at the gym.” He turns his phone screen over to show the others.

“This is the third time this week that he’s been late. He’s never taken this long to close up before.” Frankie adds.

Pope tips his almost empty beer bottle in his direction and nods. “Fuck this. Finish y’alls drinks and let's go pay him a visit.”

They all do as Pope orders and make their way out of the bar. As they cross the street and enter the gym’s parking lot they see both yours and Benny’s cars in the same spots that they were in this morning. All of the lights in the building are still on as well.

“Do y’all hear that?” Frankie asks the men walking next to him. “It sounds like -”

“Rhianna?” Pope says curiously.

All three of them walk up to the gym doors and the sight that greets them will be burned into each and every one of their minds for all eternity.

***

You’re currently holding onto one of the corner poles from the boxing ring with both hands and trying to explain to Benny how to shake his ass.

“Move your hips to the right, then the left, then shimmy down, and use your knees to help you bring your ass up and down!” You’re winded from both teaching your lesson and singing with Benny for almost an hour straight. It also doesn’t help that you’re trying to yell instructions over Rhianna’s S&M song.

“I think I got it now! Let me try!”

He helps you down so he can climb up and get into position. You pick up your towel and phone off a nearby workout bench. There is no way that you aren’t going to document this moment.

‘Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it

Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it

Stick and stone may break my bones

“But chains and whips excite me!” You and Benny sing together.

You are struggling to hold your phone still as you record because you can’t stop laughing. Benny is throwing everything, and you mean everything, into his one man performance on the edge of the boxing ring. He definitely paid attention to what you showed him. Even put his own little twist on it by bringing his right hand back to slap his ass. You can’t help but get swept away in it all and you start hitting him in the ass with your towel as well.

“Let’s go, Benny! Shake that shit for me!” Your lungs threaten to burst from over exhaustion.

S-S-S&M-M-M

Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me

Oh, you turn me on

***

“Should we tell them we are here?” Will ask hesitantly, still not entirely sure what he’s watching.

“I’m not even sure what we would say if we told them.” Frankie quips as he wishes you would get back up and dance again. “Pope?”

He looks to his left and sees him pulling up your contact information. “Let’s tell them that their audience wants an encore.” Pope presses ‘call’ and puts the phone to his ear with a devious grin.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #william miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #through the scope drabble #through the scope headcanon #benny x reader as friends #benny the bestie

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kamboree · 1 year

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gyaru girlzzz

#feferi peixes #nepeta leijon #homestuck #drawing #digital art #my art #sketch #art #homestuck girls #homestuck fanart #felt a real urge to draw these silly ladoes #ive finishd my cmmission queue so im treating myself to gyaru catfish :3 #speaking of which i cant even begin to thank all of those whove commissioned me this past month. i made so much money for my friend :#:') <33 #you are all so lovely and delightful.

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alliumbugs · 25 days

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ART REQUESTS UUUHHHHHH CALLIUMDUO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! calliumduo KISSING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

them......

#the catfish draws #the catfish answers #the catfish friends #tommyinnit #dsmp #ranboo

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artemiseamoon · 1 year

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How about you and me

Secret Santa fic for @din-jarhead | I hope you enjoy it. This was fun to write.

Frankie Morales x Reader (f) | friends to lovers

Words: 3,840 | A03

Warnings: disappointing sexual and dating history, p in v unprotected sex scene.

About: After a bad run of dates and getting fed up with the whole thing, you vent to your best friend Frankie (who you secretly love). He has a few ideas how to improve your situation.

An: fic is from readers POV mainly and the intro is Frankie’s. As always, no one reader will fit all (example - say the things you’d say) so you can read as an Oc if you prefer.

* since this is a gift fic for secret Santa i have posted in full*

Frankie kept his feelings to himself for a list of reasons, his career being number one.

Frankie has seen too many times what this work does to relationships. He knows firsthand. He did not want that with you - he’d never forgive himself if he messed it all up with you.

It's better this way, or so he tells himself, loving you secretly while being your best friend.

But now that he’s recently retired, and seeing you face constant disappointment in love and sex, Frankie thinks it’s time to speak up and give the possibility of you and him a chance.

✨✨✨

Thursday night

Humming contently, you relax against the red cushion of the diner booth. Before the sound fully leaves your lips, Frankie is already holding back a laugh as he chews his food.

“What?” You asked once you swallowed.

“All these years later, that's still your favorite thing on the menu.” He sits up, placing his elbows on the table across from you. “You still make that sound.”

“How observant of you,” you wink at him, then grab your glass of water. “You making fun of me?”

“No, it's cute.” He replies before taking another bite of his sandwich.

You and Frankie have been coming here for years. It’s become one of your places, and the times you’ve been here without him always feel weird.

Earlier that day, Frankie texted you and asked if you were free tonight. It was a light day at the garage, and he finished all his projects early. You happened to be off, even though you usually work on Thursdays, so the two of you decided to meet up for dinner, ‘at our spot’, as Frankie calls it.

You love the garage for him. It started as a passion project in between jobs. Once he retired, Frankie spent time trying to figure things out and ended up back at a garage. Now he owns it, and he’s much more relaxed than he used to be. It gave him something to do, something he cares about, and as his best friend, it's a pleasure to see him enjoying this stage of his life.

Cars, garages - all that may not be your forte, but you do enjoy visiting him and usually hang out with him after work, sometimes helping at the counter if he and the guys are busy. Your favorite part is watching him work, and when he catches you looking, you usually wink or make a silly face that brings a smirk to his lips.

You cover up what's really happening inside of you with humor and silliness but underneath, you are still madly in love with your best friend and watching him work is like an aphrodisiac. Not that you’ll tell him that.

…

There are many reasons you and Frankie love this place, and you have endless memories here. Sitting in this booth most of the time, number 4.

Memories of you meeting after exciting life events, less-than-exciting ones; memories of you running inside to meet him once he was home after missions. That one time you nearly ran the waitress over to get to him.

After dinner, you shared a dessert and ordered some drinks. As the night goes on and groups of people leave, their seats filled once more by others, you and Frankie remained in your own little world.

At one point, you headed outside to the patio. It’s a nice night out, and once the diner filled up, you and he both eyed the doors without words. It’s another thing you adore about him, that silent language between you, it’s a rare thing.

…

An hour passes, and the second round of drinks is in your hands. You and Frankie are seated on a bench on the far left of the patio, cute led lights decorate the wooden fence as the music from outside dances in the air.

When your phone buzzed, you and he were in the middle of laughing about something. Frankie's thigh touched your own as you huddled together on the bench.

With a sign, you dig into your pocket and pull out your phone. “Sorry, this keeps going off.”

Frankie tells you it's okay without words, just using his eyes. You plug in the pin, then pull up the screen. It’s a series of texts from that asshole you hooked up with two months ago. Also, sadly, the last person you had sex with.

You must have made a face because Frankie calls your name, then asks,

“You okay?”

“Ugh, yeah,” you lower the phone and look him in the eye, “I’m just never dating or having sex again. But it’s fine. It’s okay. It's fine.” You shake your head, trying to push away memories of that night.

You were horny and lonely, so you checked out your recent matches online. You hadn't used the app in some time at that point, because every date you went on was a disaster, and the men, shit, the men just kept getting worse.

But your vibrator was no longer cutting it, and that night you decided all you needed was hot sex with a hot guy and it would hold you over for a while. When you saw his face, it was a yes, he was exactly what you were looking for, and his body was even better.

The date went okay, it was clear there was nothing there beyond sexual attraction, but that was fine. At the end of the night, you went back to his place and what started as a very hot make out led to the most disappointing sex you’ve had in a long time, and that says a lot because your recent lovers have been lackluster.

He was selfish in bed; more selfish than any man you’ve been with. He didn't go down on you but wanted you to go down on him, which you declined to do. Once you did fuck, with a condom, of course, it was over so fast you lay there stunned. The mother fucker got off on himself, you’re sure of it. You might as well have been a damn sex doll for all that.

You were sure you blocked his number and told him to never contact you again, but maybe you were too horrified at the end and forgot to do it. Either way, getting a series of texts from him telling you he wants to see you and how much fun you had together makes you want to vomit and burn your phone.

Despite your efforts to not get stuck in this memory, you do. Frankie's voice pulls you out of it and thankfully, puts the man out of your mind,

“Still not working out?”

You meet his eyes, “Yeah. I’m either cursed or there are no good men left,” when the words leave your lips, you see something in his eyes, something you can’t put a finger on, “at this point, I think I’m destined to be single and maybe never have sex again.”

Frankie chuckles, his head lowered slightly. Letting your gaze linger, you take in his profile, the way his wavy chestnut hair curls from beneath his hat. Admiring Frankie when he’s not looking is something you’ve done more times than you can count.

Your love and sex life are already a mess. The last thing you need is your secret pinning for Frankie to spill off your tongue right now. It’s a secret. You plan to keep it that way. One more disappointment with a stranger, sure, it would suck but you could handle that. One more “you up?” or ‘wyd’ text from some asshole you never want to see again, you don’t want that, but you can handle it.

But Frankie? What if you laid it all out and spilled your truth and he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he turned you down? If you try and it doesn't work out? What if you try, it’s weird, and you end up losing your best friend? - no, you can’t take that risk. Frankie means too much to you.

“Don’t give up,” when he speaks your name in between breaths, paired with his calming voice, you’re ready to just confess anyway and go in for a kiss, but you hold back, “You’ll make someone the happiest man on earth. I promise.”

You scoffed, “yeah right.”

“Don’t do that,” Frankie sits up, his expression growing serious, “you just have shitty taste in guys. You’re picking the wrong ones.” He adds a little grin at the end.

You point at him, “don’t think I can argue with you there. That or I broke a mirror at some point and didn’t realize it.”

Frankie chuckles, “or, there are good guys out there and they’re not on those fucking apps,” he observes you, then points at your phone, “those apps,” he motions to your phone, “you don’t need that.”

You sigh and drop your gaze to your phone. Then set it on the bench beside you. Your eyes meet Frankies, “no one meets organically anymore. I don’t want technology to have a decent date or get laid but here we are.”

Frankie is quietly observing you and listening. You hold his gaze for a while, too long. You feel a confession dancing on your tongue yet again. Swallowing back the words, you grab your phone and start deleting the dating apps. “Screw it. I’m getting rid of them. You’re right Cat, I don’t need them.”

Frankie sits back and crosses his arms in a relaxed way. After a few moments, he says, “I have an idea. It might be a crazy one.”

You raise a brow, “listening.”

“How about-“he pauses when your eyes meet his, “we go out on a date.”

You drop your phone. Frankie feels a jolt of panic, worrying if that was a bad idea.

The sound of your phone hitting the ground is heard by you, but you don’t care. You stare at Frankie, and a shocked smile slowly builds on your lips.

Your eyes widen, “you and me?”

“Yeah. Look,” Frankie slides his cap off and runs his hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend. You know I care about you -“he takes a beat, “I hate watching you go through all this shit with those guys. I hate seeing you unhappy…” he says your name with so much softness, it makes your heartbeat faster, “I like you; I have for years I just didn’t think -”

His words fade. You’ve always been beautiful to him. But right now, with the glint in your eye and a smile on your lips that could brighten any dark room - it renders him speechless, and any doubts he’s has start to melt away.

Frankie scoots closer to you, he attempts to continue his thoughts but can’t. Words won’t meet his lips. Instead, he does something he’s always wanted to do. He kisses you. Frankie's lips are soft and warm against your own, and your cheek heats up as he cups it with his hand.

The kiss is sweet, it makes your heart flutter and when it ends you want more. Frankie leans back just enough to gauge your reaction.

He’s a confident guy, anxious at times, sometimes a little shy, but confident. And though seconds ago he was sure you feel the same, he’s doubting himself again.

“Was that okay?” He asks softly, his beautiful soulful brown eyes locked on yours.

You smile and throw your arms around his neck, “a little short, but yeah, that’s okay.”

Frankie chuckles and pulls you closer until his lips meet yours. This time, there’s no hesitation, no worry; he kisses you like it's the last time he’ll ever kiss again, he kisses you so deeply he leaves you breathless; your head spinning as moisture pools between your thighs.

As the kiss heats up, your bodies are pressed together, and he nearly pulls you beneath him on the bench. Your fingers are in his hair now, your other hand tugging on his collar. Frankie has one hand on your thigh, the other behind your neck.

The hungry kiss doesn’t break until the beer bottle shatters on the ground, his bottle. You laugh as he reaches down to rescue your phone before it gets wet. Breathing heavily, you both continue to chuckle, and he cups your face again.

“Better?” He asks with a playful grin.

“Fuck yes.” You reply with a seductive smile.

Frankie's eyes dip to your lips, “about that date? Tomorrow?”

You poke his dimple, “Tonight?”

You’re sick of waiting.

You've wanted Frankie for years and after that kiss, you can’t wait for a second longer. Luckily, Frankie feels the same way.

“Okay, “he says confidently, “this is now a date.”

…

You can’t keep your hands off each other.

The official date portion of the night only lasted 30 minutes before you piled into Frankie's truck and ended up at his place. From the door to the living room, you make out passionately, hands exploring each other's bodies as you remove your clothes. It’s been two months since you had sex and the kiss made you feral. In the back of your mind, you wondered if you should slow down, but you don’t want to.

Every time a piece of clothing is removed, his lips are on yours again, the thud of your racing hearts pound between your bodies. As you make your way to the bedroom, he tries to navigate you in the dark, a table there, something falling over here.

“Maybe we should turn the light on?” you giggle.

He kisses your neck, his hands on your hips as you pause in the hallway, just before his bedroom. His body pressing against yours, both of you down to just your underwear now.

You wrap a leg around him, pulling him in closer, and moan as his bulge rubs against you.

“Fuck the light,” he growls, “bedroom now.”

…

In the bedroom, Frankie turns on one light, he needs to see you, to take you in, all of you. He’s seated on the edge of the bed now, admiring your form as you stand before him. He anchors one hand on your hip and kisses the soft skin of your belly.

“You’re beautiful.”

He kisses the spot again, then dips his head to kiss your thighs. Your hands are anchored on his strong broad shoulders as you watch him admiring you. There are no words, no thoughts, just the way Frankie is looking at you and speaking to you, the way his hands feel on your body; you are nearly vibrating with desire now.

Frankie stands. You slide your fingers in his hair as you kiss him, tugging at his dark brown waves. Frankie moans into the kiss and deepens it, needing more of you, his hands moving behind you and greedily cupping your ass.

You slide a hand between your bodies and palm his cock. Your hand on his cock makes Frankie moan and squeeze your ass harder. You imagine it inside of you and grow even wetter.

Frankie kisses you like no one ever has before, the way you read about in books and dreamed kisses could be. And when he slides two fingers inside of you, your knees almost buck, he demands more of your mouth as he fingers you, and you give it to him.

Pleasure rises in you as he feels you up with his other hand. You’ve always loved his hands, you stare at them all the time, you like to watch them work, and this man - he’s a fucking expert, he finds all your spots and brings you to the brink of release in minutes.

Frankie pulls his fingers out and orders you to lay on the bed on your back, knees up. Your breath catches in your throat at the command. You do it. He positions himself between your thighs and spreads them further apart,

“Perfect, just like that - “he groans, taking you in, drunk on you, kneading your thighs with his fingers as he observes you, his eyes clouded with desire.

Frankie knows how to touch you; you purr and moan to way he uses his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, the intuitive way he works your clit. You melt in his hands.

Frankie knows the right speed and pressure to bring you rushing past the edge of desire - to sweet sweet nirvana.

Frankie sits up and licks his lips. You’re seeing double and sucking air into your lungs as post-orgasm ecstasy moves in waves through your body.

He smiles, “all of that for me,” Frankie grins and dips his head again, savoring even more of your release.

Seconds later, Frankie moves up your body and hikes your leg over his hip; you bring your hands to his shoulders as he anchors himself with one hand and wraps the other around his shaft.

His eyes stay on yours as he slides into you, inch by inch, filling you and stretching you deliciously. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders,

“Is this too much? Should I go slower?”

He’s thicker, bigger than you’re used to, but you want all of him, every inch. You clench your walls around him and grab his ass, pulling him in deeper, needing more of him. Frankie kisses your jawline, then your lips.

“How's that for an answer?” You tease, pulling him in deeper, he moans and drops his head.

“Fucking perfect - “ he groans, thrusting his hips, sliding the rest of his cock inside your warmth.

You begin grinding your hips together, moaning with pleasure as you fuck. Your bodies move in a rhythm so synchronized it’s like you’ve done this before, and even with the extra stretch it takes to accommodate Frankie's cock, once he’s in, you fit perfectly, like your bodies were made for each other.

You grind your hips faster and faster, your hands traveling each other's bodies as he fucks you into the mattress. Frankie has imagined this so many times, and he would love to take his time with you, but right now, he's feral, the same as you, utterly consumed by red-hot passion.

Frankie changes positions, rolling on his back, you on top of him. As you ride him, you throw your head back in ecstasy. He anchors one hand on your hip and uses the other to rub your clit.

As you fuck, you become drunker and drunker on each other. You on his cock, him on the feeling of being inside of you.

You try to hold on, to keep it going a little longer, dancing at the edge of what you know will be the most exciting, most fulfilling crescendo you’ve ever had.

Frankie is so good with his hands, and his cock, you won't last much longer. Seconds later, you’re moaning his name and collapsing onto him as you come. He grunts and jerks his hips harder, faster, fucking you through your orgasm. When he kisses you again, it's almost possessive and you like it.

Frankie pins you beneath him again, he hikes your legs over his shoulders, thrusting deep into you with a shuttered groan. You cry his name and whimper at this new angle, it's intense and dizzying. The new angle does Frankie in, after a couple of pumps he comes, moaning your name in pleasure.

His body tenses, orgasmic bliss moving through him as he spills into you. A mix of moans and heightened breaths fill the room as he gently lays you on the mattress, then rolls over on his back beside you. Your body goes limp as you catch your breath.

…

Friday Morning

Frankie is up first. He’s never been able to shake his old schedule, when the sun is up, he’s up. Unless he makes an effort to sleep in.

Last night, moonlight streamed through his window and across your sleeping face, now it's the sun. He stayed up a little longer than you and watched you sleep. Same as now.

You stir awake slowly and eventually open your eyes. Squinting, your flash a tired smile at him, “hi.”

“Hi.” His voice is still groggy, and his hair is messy on his head, he looks adorable. Like you, he’s still naked beneath the sheets. Frankie leans over and kisses you.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” You chuckle and cover your mouth,

“I don’t care, I’ll kiss you anyway.” he grabs your face and plants another kiss on your lips.

You sit up and pool the sheet at your hips, your back against the pillows like him.

“Frankie, about last night?” You raise your brows at him. “Do you think we messed this up by hooking up right away?”

“No,” his brown eyes meet yours, he turns his body to you, “you?”

You reach out and scratch the patchy part of his beard. “No. I hope not.”

Frankie looks at your thoughtfully, then takes one of your hands in his, “the way I see it, this has been building between us for some time. What happened last night was proof of that.”

You nod. Last night was amazing.

Frankie's everything you imagined and more. With one night, he’s erased all your bad sexual experiences and cleansed shitty lovers from your body memory.

He kisses you how you’ve longed to be kissed. Touches you in ways that make you wild and dizzy with lust. The way he pleases you cannot be compared to any other experience you've had; all your past lovers pale in comparison to this.

In the back of your mind, a thought picks away at you. What if starting with sex makes this a sex thing? As fun as that would be, you love him, and you’d want more than that.

Frankie caresses your arm, “hey, where’d you go?”

“Sorry, I just- it’s clear we like each other. We are obviously attracted to each other, but I’m just worried this will turn into a friends-with-benefits situation. And as fun as that could be, I don’t want -“ you trail off and try to read his expression.

Frankie takes a breath and caresses your arm, “I’ve been in love with you for years. I don’t want just a sex thing. I want you and me, together.”

A smile builds on your lips as your worries fall away, you inch closer to him, “I’m in love with you too Frankie.”

Your name is soft on his lips, his eyes full of adoration, “It's official then isn’t it, “he brushes his knuckles over your cheek, “you’re mine now.”

“And you’re mine.” You smile as you climb into his lap and draw him into a kiss.

Masterlist | Frankie | Pedro

#Frankie Morales #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #Frankie catfish Morales #Frankie x f reader #best friend to boyfriend #fic: how about you and me #frankie morales smut #Frankie Morales fluff #artes moodboards #frankie triple frontier

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