#francisco morales x female reader

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 2

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: when Frankie shows up unexpectedly at the reunion dinner, things get uncomfortable and awkward for everyone.

word count: 2.5k

SERIES WARNINGS: former friends who were in love with each other, angst, mutual pining, tension, eventual smut, jealousy, infidelity, wrong choices, kind of arranged marriage too I guess.

A/N: I NO LONGER USE A TAGLIST! If you want to be updated on my works, click “Get notifications” on this blog! Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕

gif: @conveniently-available​ 

series masterlist | AO3

The coarse whisper of your name manages to awaken sentiments in you that you long thought of as dead and buried. You’re staring, too, but that you just cannot help.

It’s been an excruciatingly long and hard decade without that face. Time’s been kind to him, much to your dismay. Once a scrawny teenager, now he’s standing before you as a man: stubbled cheeks, moustache, eyes chocolatey and tired from time’s rough passage. He has the same kindness about him, the same warmth, and it only makes your heart ache more.

This would’ve been infinitely easier had he turned out into some kind of ogre.

But of course he hasn’t. Why would the universe make this any easy for you?

He’s just a person, you remind yourself with unsteady breaths. Just a person. An old acquaintance and nothing more. He means nothing more.

“What—what are you doing here?” he gets the courage to ask, visibly shaken by your presence. “How are you here?”

“Same way I left. Got on a plane. And I’m having dinner with the guys.”

You barely recognize your own voice as you flatly reply to him. It’s the voice of a woman who’s been disappointed and hurt far too many times, squashed of any hope.

Frankie hums, piecing everything together. He inches closer to you, and you pull away from him in an instant. Being too close means more heartache, and you refuse to put yourself through it again.

Be polite, nothing else. Keep him out.

“When did you come back?” he asks.

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I’m back for good.”

He nods, hating how robotic and distant he sounds. Truth is, he is far too shocked to even smile at you or hug you or tell you how much he missed you. How much he’s thought of you over the years.

It hurts to even acknowledge that.

“What are you doing here?” you retort. “Santi said you were busy tonight.”

“Finished earlier, so I thought I’d join in.”

Heads turn back at the table, eyes widened in shock and panicked whispers exchanged.

“Uh oh,” Benny exclaims. “I thought you said he was busy.”

“He was,” Santiago admits, standing up swiftly and practically racing to you and Frankie. “Hey man, you made it!”

The look Frankie gives his best friend is hollow and accusatory, and Santiago knows why, but guilt isn’t on the list of things he’s worried about right now.

“I was… going to the restroom, excuse me,” you say, and make bigger steps to the ladies’ room.

Now alone, Frankie grabs Santiago’s arm as they approach the table. The grip is tight and firm, exuding nothing but sheer anger and betrayal.

“You knew she was back in town and you didn’t bother to tell me?!” Frankie groans.

“We wanted to tell you about it tonight, but when you said you were busy, we figured we didn’t have to yet,” Santiago says, breaking the touch.

“A warning would’ve been fucking nice.”

“Yeah, well, a call or text from you saying you were on your way would’ve been nice too.”

Frankie huffs, sitting down and rubbing his temples. The waiter returns, asking if he wants anything, and he immediately orders a glass of bourbon.

“We’re glad you could make it,” Mia says with a polite smile.

“I’m sure it won’t be that awkward,” Emily fortifies.

“Of course not, why would it be?”

“How about you sit way over there, buddy?” Will intervenes, gently guiding his friend to the end of the table, opposite of where your seat is. And just in time, too; you return from the bathroom, sneaking a single glance at Frankie, then avoiding him altogether.

You order another glass of wine, though that’s probably not the wisest decision given the effect wine has on you, particularly in the presence of someone you were once undeniably attracted to.

“How come you’re back in town?” Frankie asks, voice a little shallow and grave.

“I got a job here.”

“That sounds great.”

There is no follow up after that, and everyone at the table is feeling the tension running high. The only way to cope with it, since communication seems to come uneasy to both you and Frankie, is to drink. Everyone orders a second one, and soon a third one. By the fourth one, Benny takes it upon himself to lighten the mood, in spite of Will’s repeated insistence that he shouldn’t.

“What about my one year anniversary with Emily, huh?” he chuckles, cheeks flushed with the crimson burn of alcohol and love. “Who would’ve thought?”

“None of us did,” Santiago teases.

“Hey! I always wanted to settle down.”

“Benny, sweetheart, I love you, but even I know you were a huge ladies’ man before you met me.”

“It takes a special kind of woman to tame a lion.”

Will shakes his head, amused by his little brother’s antics.

“Oh, and Will and Mia got their half year anniversary coming up!” Benny continues. “Things are lookin’ bright for the Millers.”

Santiago exchanges a glare with Will, sensing where things are headed, and neither likes it.

“Alright, how about we talk about something more exciting?” Will suggests. “How about we hear more about our friend’s new job, huh?”

Will smiles at you, but Benny’s too tipsy to pick up on social cues in his pursuit to make the gang feel comfortable and happy.

“But we haven’t properly celebrated Frankie’s engagement,” he pouts.

The table goes silent as fearful glares are being exchanged. After a while, everyone’s gaze seems fixated solely on you, anticipating your reaction—except For Frankie. He keeps his head down, like a dog that’s been scolded for a mishap. You are fully aware of the fact that you are on a massive display, completely exposed, but you will not give into the moment and renounce your integrity.

Though it remains undeniable that on the inside, you are simply falling apart.

You expected this; you absolutely anticipated such a situation, even something more complicated. But no matter how much you would’ve prepared for any possible scenario, the reality still kicks you in the gut.

You stare blankly, only now gathering sufficient strength to search for Frankie’s face. When you find it, it’s riddled with guilt and sorrow, facts which you cannot fully comprehend. Why does he get to feel guilty? And for what?

“Oh,” you say at long last, your voice hollow. “You’re—engaged.”

You draw in a sharp breath that eventually gets stuck in your chest, and you make a mental note to yourself to sound pleasantly surprised instead of bitter and devastated.

“Yeah. Her name is Andrea. We’re getting married in June.”

You gulp, forcing a wide smile that’s meant to be polite and cordial at best. “Congratulations,” you whisper with the same happy mask on your face.

“Thank you.”

Frankie downs his drink and risks staring at you, but you’re back to ignoring him. He understands, of course; it would be foolish of him to pretend otherwise, no matter how much it would hurt to face the consequences of his actions.

He wishes he could tell you the truth, why he did what he did, but he knows you are far too stubborn and independent to believe him, especially after all that time. When he decided he was done, years ago, he closed every window and door there was to ensure his connection with you was truly severed. Too much time had passed without any form of contact, and it sent only one message: that Frankie did not care.

If only he would open his mouth now and confess that it was a lie, a ruse to help you and make you happy…

“I probably shouldn’t have dropped the news like that,” Benny whispers to Emily.

“You really shouldn’t have, you big blabber mouth.”

“As I recall, you don’t have a problem with my big mouth.”

Emily slaps him over the shoulder, audibly, and looks around the table. The tension is thick, palpable, and it makes everyone present disarmed in front of it.

“How did you two meet?”

All eyes are on you again, probably because nobody was expecting you, of all those present, to initiate a conversation about Frankie’s fiancé. But there you are, looking right at him, as friendly as you could possibly be. Even Frankie is taken aback, but he clears his throat and eventually speaks up.

“Uh, it was like... eight years ago. We met after one of Benny’s first matches, when we went out to eat. She worked there temporarily as a waitress to get through medical school. I asked for a bag of peanuts, she misunderstood, we had a laugh and became friends, and… here we are.”

Frankie realizes he’s oversharing and that you certainly didn’t want to know every little detail of his encounter with his now-fiancé, but it’s too late to stop it now.

“What about you, what are you doing back here?” he asks instead.

“I, uh—I got a job as an editor at a publication here in Boston.”

“That’s great. You always loved to write.”

Stunned, you look up at him, irritably fond of the fact that he remembers your favorite pastime. But you cannot go soft now, not when you have the man who stole your heart right there at the very table, stealing glances at you with big, soft puppy eyes. He needs to know, to understand, just how hurt you still are, how unyielding you are on the decision to remain simply cordial with him.

“Yes,” you reply cynically.

“Guys, I’m sorry I spoiled the news like that,” Benny says apologetically. “It wasn’t my news to begin with.”

“It’s okay, Ben” you smile.

“Yeah, she would’ve found out eventually.”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, you’re pretty good at keeping people in the dark about your intentions. Maybe I would’ve found out when I saw you driving your kids to college.”

Will clears his throat, as if to put an end to the bickering that’s barely beginning to boil between you and Frankie. But the latter only feels worse looking at you, being in such close proximity to you after all that time. He’s perfectly aware that a mere apology won’t cut it, but he has to try now that you have re-entered their lives.

He has to, doesn’t he? Otherwise he would be exactly what you already think he is: a heartless, cruel man.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a lump in your throat, though enunciating your name in a sweet, careful manner. “If I knew you’d be here tonight,” he adds, side-eyeing the guys in an accusing way, “I wouldn’t have come.”

“Then what?” you demand.

The table goes mute once again, no one daring open their mouths now. The thing is, they all realize just how uncomfortable this situation is for both you and Frankie; they also know that this kind of confrontation is long overdue, except—well. Maybe now isn’t the most opportune moment.

But you feel anger boiling underneath your veins, spreading throughout your entire body like a poison that needs to be released immediately, or else you’d die with it in your system, damaged from inside out.

“You wouldn’t have come tonight if you’d known,” you resume. “Okay. What was your plan after you’d find out? Go on with your life as usual, avoid me like the plague?”

Frankie coos your name again, in an almost begging manner. “I would’ve found out that you’re back sooner or later, so—“

“So what? We’d just never speak to each other again? Like we’re just two random strangers?”

“No—“

You search in your purse for your wallet, taking out a few bills to cover your share of dinner. You take a deep breath in, trying your best to keep your composure and not lose all of your sense right then and there with everyone watching you.

“It was nice seeing you guys tonight,” you say with a forced smile. “I really did have a good time. Think I’ll call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Mia asks you, genuinely concerned. “We were thinking of going to a bar or a club after.”

“I’m sure. If you want to go, please, do. Have fun.”

“I should go, too,” you hear Frankie say.

The two of you stand up at the same time, locking eyes. Your heart instantly goes in your throat, dreading the idea that you might have to actually confront him outside of the restaurant, one on one. You falter, desperately looking around for some sort of help that fails to come.

“How about I take you home?” Santiago proposes, standing up.

You exhale with immense relief. Gratitude for Santiago was never bigger or more welcome than it is right now.

“Thank you,” you say, and you take one last look at Frankie, noticing how wrecked he seems in that moment.

But you still don’t cave in. You can’t.

“Congratulations on your engagement again,” you tell him, flashing another smile.

It’s a hollow one, and Frankie sees right through it. It might’ve been a while since he’s last seen you, but he is very much still capable of deciphering your every little tell, anything that your body language cleverly conceals from the rest of the world except him.

He doesn’t reply. He remains locked in the same position, standing up, and watches you leave with Santiago. He sees his hand on your waist guiding you gently through the restaurant, and then walking right out. His mind spins with endless possibilities that just about tear him into pieces. He’s never felt so tiny, so cruel and horrible.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Benny mutters at him.

“It’s fine. She would’ve found out sooner or later. This way… the bandaid is ripped off. It hurt, and now—“

It still does. So much more than before.

“—it’s done,” he lies.

He vaguely hears Will’s voice in the background, asking him not to leave, but rather to join them at a bar or something, but he doesn’t fully comprehend or listen. He pays for his drink and rushes straight home. His freshly renovated apartment that’s supposed to be part of the new chapter in his life. His and Andrea’s life, together. But right now, in this frozen moment, it all feels like a lie. A big, fat joke he’s been telling himself to make himself sleep better at night.

He’s always known he hurt you and fucked up everything, yet tonight, seeing the look on your face, nearly falling apart with sadness and anger alike, he knows the damage is irreparable. He knows you’ll never forgive him for the way he hurt you.

He won’t forgive himself, either.

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

Sheer Desire

A/N: So this was definitely not planned to be the first thing I post in the new year. In fact, it started as a kinktober prompt (stockings & lingerie) that got sidelined and seemed to double like bread dough while I wasn’t looking. I wanted to finish up the last few holiday-ish things that I had planned and get them up this week... but Frankie had other plans. And who tf am I to stop him? This follows along with the other Frankie x Reader pieces I’ve written, but can also be read as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy!! 

WC: 8.7k 

Warnings: language, smut, Francisco Morales’ mouth ;) 

Summary: You and Frankie attend Benny’s wedding together, and he struggles to keep his hands to himself the whole night. Until he doesn’t have to. That’s it, that’s the fic. 

Look at that. Seven whole minutes to spare. 

Blowing out a relieved breath, you pulled into one of the few remaining spots in the area of the hotel lot cordoned off for event parking, the signs reading Welcome to the wedding of Alana Ruiz & Benjamin Miller in gold script. You knew you’d be cutting it close, working an open shift at the bar and then racing home to clean up, change and grab your things for the weekend before hitting the road and making the two and a half hour drive down to Marco Island, but there hadn’t been another option. It was the first major event that Frankie had invited you to since you’d taken the next step in your relationship, so you’d done what you had to to make it work. I’m just glad I’m not late. 

Picking up your phone from the cup holder, you sent a quick text to let Frankie know that you’d made it. He and the rest of the wedding party had gotten there the night before for the rehearsal dinner, and he had been checking in with you every few hours throughout the day to make sure that nothing had changed as far as your ETA. You knew that it was partially because of his military background, wanting to make sure that things were running according to plan. But as you scrolled through the messages he’d sent, you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips. But it's also because he’s excited. 

Your smile grew as you set the device back in the cupholder and reached down to slide off the flip flops you’d worn to drive in. Tossing them to the floor on the passenger side, you grabbed the pair of sheer black stockings that you’d shoved in your purse on your way out the door. You’d been unsure if you wanted to wear them, and you didn’t have time to decide before you left. But as soon as they were in your hand, you pictured the way they would look balled up in Frankie’s grip later in the night, and the fire that flared in you at that image made the decision for you. 

Taking a few seconds, you rolled them up your legs and then shoved your feet into the pair of low wedge heels you’d chosen for the night. You checked your reflection in the visor mirror, touching up your lipstick with the tip of your pinky finger. Okay, good to go. You took a breath, and then you took your phone and purse and hurried towards the walkway that led to where the rows of chairs were set up overlooking the water. Here I come, Frankie. 

– – – 

The ceremony was beautiful. It had been timed almost perfectly so that the sunset painted the Gulf in shades of rosy copper and ripples of indigo, the shadowy silhouettes of palm trees acting as a backdrop for the I do’s. Benny and Alana had chosen to write their own vows, and Alana’s brother had been the one to officiate, so it had been intimate and personal, the love and happiness between the two of them absolutely tangible. 

As was the feeling of Frankie’s eyes on you from his place between Will and Pope on Benny’s right. All three of them looked fantastic in the brown suits that they wore, but your focus was only on the man in the middle. Damn, Morales. 

You locked your gaze with his and smiled, mouthing the word hi. Your lower lip slipped between your teeth at the way he lifted his hand away from his leg just enough to give you a covert wave. Oh, look at him. His cheek rose in a lopsided grin that only made him more attractive - especially when you noticed his dimple peeking through one of the patches in his beard. 

You’d been falling in love with Frankie for months, finding yourself a little deeper in it every day. But you took a steep tumble that night. 

And though you had ended up spending most of the cocktail hour on your own, Frankie and the others wrapped up in greeting guests and taking pictures, when he finally did get his arms around you, you felt that he was already there, ready to catch you. Ready to dive in even further with you.

“Hey,” he said, his hands finding their way to your waist as soon as you were in reach, his lips seeking yours the second the single syllable left them. “Missed you.” His fingers flexed in the satin of your dress as he kissed you again, this time slower and longer, one hand rising up to cup the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, your smile pushing your cheek against his palm. “Glad you’re here.” 

“Hey yourself, Frankie.” Your left hand slid inside his jacket, smoothing over his side and around to press flat against his broad back. None of the groomsmen wore ties, so the fingers of your right hand curled around his lapel, that forearm resting against his chest. “Missed you, too.” You smiled against his lips as you continued to kiss him.  

As soon as he felt your lips part, his tongue slipped into your mouth to glide atop yours, stealing your breath, and then he was pulling back and bumping the tip of your nose with his. “You are so damn beautiful.” Both hands settled at your waist again as his eyes swept up and down your frame, noticing the way your dress hung on your hips to flare slightly at your knees, appreciating the low cut of the neckline and the small triangular cutout that was just visible under the knotted tie that embellished the top. And then he noticed your legs and the way they looked encased in sheer black nylon, so thin it was barely there at all, and he groaned. “Gonna have a hard time keeping my hands to myself for the next few hours.” 

That makes two of us. “You know, you clean up pretty well yourself, Morales. It’s not gonna be easy for me, either.” The hand that you had on his back came to join the other, gripping both lapels and tugging on them. You let out a small laugh, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “Guess it's a good thing we’re staying here then, huh?” Opening your eyes again, you arched one brow and smirked at him. “Two and a half hours isn’t a short drive and-” 

He cut you off then, eyes darkening as they narrowed slightly but never left yours. “If we were driving home tonight? I wouldn’t wait.” There was a raspy quality to his voice that wiped the teasing grin right off of your face as you realized what he meant. He had driven down with Pope the night before so that he could drive home with you, so you’d be in the same car. Oh, fuck. Your heart thudded hard, and you felt your eyes go wide as he leaned in to finish telling you what would happen on the ride home if you didn’t have a room for the weekend. “I can drive with my left hand, and the right one can-” 

Just then you heard your name being called from somewhere behind you. Frankie winked and let the rest of his words hang, knowing that you knew damn well what his free hand would be doing in that scenario. Oh, you are gonna be trouble tonight, Francisco. Tearing your eyes away from him, you looked up to see Pope walking over, his arm wrapped around the waist of a stunning brunette in a burgundy dress. Wait a minute, is that…

You glanced back up at Frankie, a smile spreading across your lips. “Is that Yovanna? I thought Pope said she couldn’t make it!”

“Yeah.” He nodded as you released the collar of his jacket, arms going back to your sides after reaching across your chest to secure the strap of your purse on your shoulder. “She flew in this morning to surprise him.” His chuckle turned his eyes light and warm again as his hands left your body, too, and it was clear to see how glad he was about his friend’s happiness. Good. He deserves it. They all do. 

Your eyebrows flew up. “Wow, that’s a hell of a surprise. I bet he was excited.” 

“He was. Shoulda seen his face when she called from the airport.” Frankie leaned down to drop a kiss to your temple as the other couple came within a few strides of where you stood. “Surprises are nice,” he whispered in your ear. “But I liked knowing you were gonna be here.” I did, too.

Pope reached for you then, giving you a hug and introducing you to the woman you’d heard so much about but had yet to meet, and then the four of you went to catch up with Will at the bar, Frankie’s fingers laced with yours as you walked. Your group was joined by the two bridesmaids that had walked down the aisle with Will, both women eyeing the older Miller brother. His and Benny’s cousin Mark was supposed to have been the fourth groomsman, but he’d broken his leg in three places just a few weeks out from the wedding and was in a full hip to toe fiberglass cast. To keep anyone from having to walk alone, Will had been assigned both of Alana’s college roommates - who also happened to be the only two of the four bridesmaids that were single - and it seemed as though neither of them cared that he had his arms around them both. Oh, this is going to be a fun night. You grinned as you finished your drink, an autumn evening breeze sweeping through the courtyard. 

–  –  –

It hadn’t dawned on you that you and Frankie had never danced together until the DJ opened the floor for all couples to join the bride and groom. 

When else would we have, though?     

Despite all the milestones and things you had shared since things had become more serious, and even though there were definitely more important and significant bridges to cross in the future, the feeling that you got when he led you out amongst the sea of couples was one of pure elation. It swirled in your chest, and if it weren’t for the way his arms kept you grounded as he took you in his hold, you would have thought it possible for you to float away. Doing new things with him - even something as normal as dancing together at a friend’s wedding - made you realize that you wanted to do everything with him. 

Frankie clasped your hand in his and brought it to his chest, his other hand sliding south into the dip at the base of your spine. With his next swaying step he pressed you closer, shrinking the space between your bodies until you could feel each breath that filled his lungs and the way that his heart beat didn’t match the slow cadence of the song that you were dancing to. Mine doesn’t either, though. 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in through your nose, the arm you had around his torso tightening to mirror the hold he had on you. Frankie’s cologne - mixed with the scent of the smoky whiskey he drank at the cocktail hour - nearly overwhelmed your senses as you laid your head against his shoulder, your head spinning as you let your breath back out. He smells so damn good. The slow sweep of his thumb up and down your back sent a tingle through your bloodstream that only intensified when you felt his lips brush your forehead, where he left a featherlight kiss and two whispered words. 

“Thank you.” 

Eyes opening, you squeezed his hand and picked your head up to meet his gaze. Despite the fact that the dance floor was packed with couples - the two of you had bumped shoulders with Pope and Yovanna on one side, and the newly minted Millers on the other - he was all you could see. And he’s all I want. You smiled, head tilted to one side as you blinked at him. “For what?” 

Raising your joined hands to his lips, he kissed your curled fingers before returning them to where they were. “For this. Tonight. Being my date.” He swallowed, your eyes flicking down to track the movement of his throat before coming back up to his face. “For showing up for me.” 

“Frankie,” you spoke his name softly, leaning in to nuzzle the ridge of your nose against the line of his jaw, his normal scruff cropped closer to his face for the occasion but still long enough for you to feel it. I’ll always show up for you, Francisco Morales. As long as you want me to. 

“For everything.” He sighed, flexing the fingers of his right hand against your back, the tips pushing into the material of your dress and your flesh beneath it. There was no space left between you to eliminate, but that didn’t seem to matter to him as he urged you closer. “I don’t thank you enough.” 

You closed your eyes and let him tuck you into his chest as the song continued, his arm wrapping more tightly around you. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, making it easy for you to press your lips to his neck. His skin was warm where you kissed him, and you trailed a few more small kisses up towards his ear, the soft curls behind it tickling your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Frankie,” you whispered. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

“I do, though.” He surprised you then, picking up the hand that was twined with yours and looping it around you at the same time that he used the one resting on your spine to turn you. Oh, alright. You gasped, the sound becoming a small laugh and then a warm hum as his arms resettled around your waist with yours crossed over one another, your back to his front and his chin over your shoulder. “And when we get up to our room later?” He curved his free hand around your hip and pulled you to him, so that his next two words could only be taken one way. “I will.”

A shiver ran from the shell of your ear down to your toes, your body responding by sending waves of heat to crash through your lower belly. Fuck, Frankie. He waited a few beats before turning you back to your original hold, and you were grateful for the time to get your suddenly racing heart somewhat under control. When you were face to face again, you opened your eyes to see just a touch of smugness in his grin. Because you know just what you’re doing, don’t you? The sincerity of what he’d been saying just before he set you ablaze, though, was still the most prominent thing you saw in his expression. 

“Oh yeah?” You freed your hand from his and brought it up to his forehead to push a rogue curl back into place. It slipped stubbornly down again with his nod and you let it, your palm resting on his shoulder momentarily. “Well I like the sound of that, Frankie.” 

His eyes flashed, and it didn’t matter that the courtyard was strung with small bulbs of golden light or that beyond them, the whole night sky was on display. That look…  His hand came up to his shoulder to scoop yours into it again, his thumb pressing into the cup of your palm before his fingers curled over your knuckles. “Good.” You could tell that the song you were dancing to was ending, and you knew that meant that in just a few moments you’d be seated at your table. But it seemed Frankie wasn’t done stirring things in you just to let them simmer for the next few hours. As the music began to fade out, he pulled you close and made sure that no one else could hear. “I like your sounds.” He nipped at your earlobe and you had to swallow a whimper. “Wanna hear ‘em all tonight.”  

Oh, don’t worry, you’re going to. 

You knew that wasn’t going to be an issue. Because of the way that you had to move your schedule around to take off the rest of the weekend and the following Monday, and since Frankie had Oliver the previous week, the two of you hadn’t spent the night together in a little over fourteen days. But now we’ve got three in a row. Just us. Before you could respond to what he’d said though, the DJ was thanking everyone for joining Benny and Alana for their first dance and asking that you all be seated for the toasts. Biting your lower lip in lieu of an answer, you shook your head as Frankie winked at you, and then you let him lead you to your table. 

Pope and Yovanna were already back, along with two of the bridesmaids and their spouses, but you passed Will as he made his way in the opposite direction, where the other two bridesmaids stood ready to start the toasts. You mouthed a “good luck” to him, the man giving you a bright grin as Frankie clapped him on the shoulder and mumbled, “Don’t fuck up, Ironhead.”  

“Yeah, fuck you too, Fish,” Will shot back under his breath as he elbowed Frankie, who snorted. 

The interaction was entirely commonplace for their group of friends, and it made you happy to know that after everything that the four of them had gone through together - some of which you understood that you might never know - they’d always have each other’s backs, always be there for one another during their best and worst times. You leaned into Frankie, your bare arm pressed to the sleeve of his jacket. And this is one of the good times. 

Turning your head, you kissed his bicep and hoped for nothing but good times for a long time. 

He pulled out a chair for you and you sank into it as he sat in the one next to it, listening intently as Will delivered a heartfelt toast to his little brother and new sister-in-law. Ending it by raising his glass, Will asked that everyone do the same. After listening to the things he said - about love, trust, growth and support, and how the best relationships, like Benny and Alana’s, had all of those things - you weren’t surprised to find that your eyes were damp as you took a sip of champagne. 

Because… You swallowed, watery eyes shifting to the man beside you. Because so do we. Clearing your throat, you swallowed again, though this time it was a lump of emotion instead of a bubbly beverage. “Will’s too good at public speaking.” You sniffed, leaning over towards Frankie, indicating the tears shining in your eyes.

He let out a small laugh, but you could see that the speech had struck a chord with him as well.  “He is,” Frankie agreed, reaching over to brush away some of the wetness you missed on your cheek. 

Will was finishing up by wrapping Benny and Alana in a hug, and then he handed the microphone over to the two women who were making a toast together, before making his way back to your group. You set your glass back down as you felt Frankie’s hand cover your knee under the table. He’d gathered the skirt of your dress up, pushing it aside so that his thumb could slowly stroke over the sheer material stretched over your legs, and though you were still thinking about what Will had just said, you were immediately distracted by what Frankie was doing. The way that his touch roved inward and higher up your thigh sent a fresh flood of heat into your belly, his warm exhale against your skin as he leaned close to whisper to you while Alana’s maid of honor continued her part of the speech only making it that much more difficult to pay attention.  

“I know I said it already but.. you look incredible tonight.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You always do.’ Before you could respond, he lightly squeezed your leg, fingers tightening just above your knee before spreading out over the thin barrier between his flesh and yours. “These things are drivin’ me crazy, though.” He dug his fingertips in just enough to test the elasticity, letting out a quiet but throaty sigh as he relaxed his grip again. The sound made your eyes snap up to meet his, their depths darkened by his next few words. Oh, shit.  “I wanna see them. But I also can’t wait to get them off you.” 

The space around you broke out in good-natured laughter at something that Megan said in her toast, but you had no idea what it was because at that exact moment, Frankie’s hand slid higher up your leg - high enough for him to realize that it wasn’t a pair of regular pantyhose that you were wearing. They were thigh high stockings, topped with delicate black lace that hugged your legs. His eyes widened, a bolt of desire crashing through them that you swore you could feel. 

Because that means… “You can take them off, Frankie.” You sucked in a breath as his thumbnail lightly scraped over the embellished top and onto your skin before sliding beneath the elastic, your heart hammering. “But you don’t have to.” 

He stared at you then, his whole chest expanding with his inhale, and even though you were having a great time celebrating the new Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you couldn’t wait to get up to your hotel room so you could let that spark catch and consume you. Can’t leave yet though. 

“Oh, I will.” He arched one brow, gently pressing the thumb that was still beneath your stocking into the flesh of your thigh. “Eventually.” 

That time when the toast ended and you were supposed to drink to the newlyweds, neither of you had your glass in hand. You hadn’t even noticed the cheers and applause, the flashes of photos being taken. Instead, you stared at the flick of Frankie’s tongue as it poked between his lips to wet them, and you knew he was watching the way your breastbone rose and sank with your stunted breaths at the suggestions you both were making. 

I- we can’t… Not yet, it just… There were still hours left in the evening - dinner and dancing and celebrating and cake and pictures and… And he’s in the wedding party. He can’t disappear this early.  “Jesus, Frankie, the night just started and-”  

He withdrew his hand then, a devilish grin softening into something more teasing. “I know. Like I said…” He winked, lips twitching into a full on smile before pressing together as he nodded. “Eventually.” 

Oh, wearing these was definitely the right call. 

–  –  – 

A few hours - and several more less than subtle hints from both of you - later, your cheeks were sore from laughing and smiling. The party was starting to wind down, the clock ticking towards the end of the night, when you felt Frankie’s grip squeeze your leg under the table again. “Gonna go get one more drink from the bar.” He cocked his head to the side. “And then we can…” He let his sentence trail off, raising one eyebrow and slipping his thumb under the lacy elastic band around your thigh. “How’s that sound?” 

You sucked in a breath, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, leaning in to press his nose against your cheek, lips close to your ear. “Sounds.” Oh, fuck. “Be right back.”

With that he stood, following Pope and Will over to the bar. Yovanna had excused herself to use the restroom, so you were left alone at the table, your stomach swooping and your heart pounding. Your mind filled once more with the image that inspired your fashion choice for the night - Frankie’s thick, strong, rough fingers clutching the delicate sheers after removing them from your body - and you felt a ripple of excitement at how close you were to seeing it come true. Soon. So soon. He’s gonna come back and then- 

And then you snapped your head up as Benny’s voice hit your ear, the man grinning as he waved around the glass in his hand and made his way to your table. He was clearly drunk - but happily and pleasantly so, a slight stumble to his swagger but not at all inappropriate for a groom at his own wedding. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.  Pressing pause on the thoughts that were just about to run rampant as you stared dazedly out at the darkened beach beyond the dunes, you broke into a genuine smile of your own as he got closer. 

“Hey, Benny,” you pulled out the chair next to you, indicating that he could sit. “You just missed the guys, they went over to the-” 

The single cube of ice in his glass knocked against the side of it as he took a big swig of his beverage. Eyebrows gathered and forehead rumpled, he held up his free hand and mumbled an un-uh, shaking his head as he swallowed. “Nope, I came over to talk to you.” 

You laughed and cocked your head to the side. “Oh, yeah?”  

 “Yeah. Listen, I just-” He swung himself into the empty seat next to you with a sigh, setting his glass down next to Frankie’s discarded silverware. “I’m sorry Alana didn’t wanna do the whole,” he brought both hands in front of himself and mimed an over the shoulder throwing motion before continuing. “The whole toss the flowers thing.” The movement caused his whole body to tip to one side, both of your hands reaching out to stop him from falling off his seat. Though I don’t know if it would do anything. Luckily your help wasn’t necessary, Benny righting himself by gripping the table and shifting his weight. He closed one eye in an exaggerated wink and pointed at you with a grin. “Woulda put my money on you catchin’ it, and then…” He jerked his head towards the bar and waited for you to look over.

Though you already knew what you would see when you did, you still sucked in a breath at the sight of him, warmth spreading over your cheeks, and bursting in your chest. He’s… oh, look at him. Frankie stood waiting for drinks with Pope and Will, a deeply genuine laugh brightening his features as he jokingly smacked Pope’s shoulder, Will doubled over in laughter as well. It made you happy, seeing him like that, and you watched the three of them - focusing on Frankie - with a smile on your lips for a few more seconds before you turned back to face Benny. 

Suddenly, the meaning behind his words clicked, and you laughed, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine, Benny. It’s an outdated tradition anyway, and it takes time away from other things li-” 

He blew a breath out through his lips, cutting you off with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “No, but it's…” Your eyes widened in amusement as his flitted over your shoulder and brightened as he grinned. What is he doing? You didn’t need to wait long for your answer though, Benny raising one hand and waving to someone behind you. “Hey! Ang! C’mere.” Who is? You turned to see who he was talking to as one of the women in the bridal party - the one who had been partnered with Pope when they’d all walked down the aisle during the ceremony - came towards your table, her own small bouquet in hand. Oh, right, Angela. “Ang, lemme borrow that real quick, okay?” He gestured to her flowers. “Please?’

She leaned down with a huge smile on her face, placing one hand on the back of his chair, and kissed him on the cheek. “Anything for my brand new brother in law!” Dropping her bouquet in his lap, she laughed and clapped her hands. “I’m heading back to the dance floor while there’s still time, and when you’re done here I better see you out there twirling the shit out of my sister, Miller!” Laughing, she shimmied her way out towards the group of people on the floor,  Benny calling a ‘Yes ma’am!’ after her. 

“Benny,” you shook your head as he picked up the bundle of daisies and dahlias in his lap and glanced down at it. “What are you-” But you knew what he was doing the second you saw the mischievous quirk of his lips. Before you could get the final word of your question out, he sprung into action, flinging the bouquet at you. “What?!” You sputtered, hands flying out instinctively to catch what he’d thrown at you. “Why are you-” 

He just drummed his hands on the table top, some of the amber liquid in his glass almost sloshing up over the rim.. “See? I fuckin’ told you!” 

Closing your eyes, you let out a chuckle and hid your face behind the blossoms. “Benny…” You groaned, the sound devolving into a laugh. “You-” 

“What’s goin’ on over here, hmm?” Just then you felt Frankie’s solid presence behind you, one arm coming around your chair to set your drink on the table and press a kiss near your temple. Lowering the flowers to your lap, you closed your eyes as he let his lips linger long enough for you to feel him smile before he drew them away. Hi.  

“What’s goin’ on, ‘Fish,” Benny stood and faked a punch at Frankie’s bicep, opening his fist and letting it clap over the older man’s shoulder instead. “Is that your girl here just caught the flowers, so you know what that means.” Without waiting for a response, he waggled his eyebrows and bent down to retrieve his glass. “Now if you two will excuse me, I need to go find my wife.” 

“Yeah, you go do that, Benjamin,” Frankie muttered, shaking his head and bringing one hand up to swipe downwards over his mouth, the corners of it twitching behind his palm. Benny shot you another wink before turning towards where Alana was dancing with Angela, Will, Pope and Yovanna. “Can’t help himself, can he?” He spoke under his breath, dropping his hand. 

“You know Benny.” You shrugged, laughing as you crossed one leg over the other. The hem of your dress slid up as you shifted your position, exposing more of your knee and thigh. Though the autumn breeze that swept through the night was cool enough to cause a quick chill, all you felt was fire when his eyes fell to your lap. Oh. He… fuck. 

The pink tip of Frankie’s tongue slid between the seam of his lips to wet them, and then he was leaning down to reach for the bundle of blossoms still sitting in your lap. “So you caught these, huh?” His fingers skated intentionally over the thin mesh of your stockings, knuckles pressing down against your knee as he wrapped his grip around the stems of the flowers. 

It was all you could do not to openly moan at the look in his eyes and the presence of his large hand curled around the bouquet resting atop your legs. Swallowing hard, you blinked and nodded. “Mmhmm.” You took a breath that made your whole chest heave as he lifted the flowers away, keeping his eyes on the sliver of your upper leg that he’d just uncovered. “Sure did.” Benny threw them at me, but same difference. 

Flipping the bouquet onto the table, he brought his now empty hand back to your lap and curved it around your top leg. “Well, I think that’s our cue then.” 

Oh, is it? Your heart slammed to a stop as he used his grip to uncross your legs, but it sped up again as his fingers shifted from your thigh to your hand. He reached down for the other one and pulled you to your feet, his own planted so close to you that when you stood you were nearly chest to chest. He’d discarded his jacket earlier - it hung on the back of his chair instead of across his shoulders - and his sleeves had been uncuffed and rolled to the elbow, so when his arms went around you, you could easily feel the warmth of his body through the white button down he wore. Head swimming and pulse thrumming, you leaned into his hold and suddenly couldn’t wait to be upstairs. But I thought he said… 

“Thought you said one more drink.” Your voice was thin and wispy, your words dissolving into a hum as he ducked his head to kiss behind your ear. Not that I’m complaining. There was music playing, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t hear it over the thoughts racing through your head. “You just-” You gasped as his tongue swept over your skin. Oh, shit. You swallowed. “You just stood in line at the bar, and we haven’t said goodnight to-”   

You weren’t actually trying to convince him to stay any longer, and he knew it. “We’ll come back down for a drink in the lobby later,” he growled into your neck. “Say goodnight to ‘em then.” You could feel his warm breath on your skin, vibrating in your blood. “They’re not gonna notice we’re gone, trust me.” His facial hair dragged over your throat as he moved his mouth up to nip at your earlobe, teeth catching on the inner ridge of your ear. “Wanna see you in those sexy fucking things you got on.” That’s why I wore them. He doubled down then, lowering his tone even more, his words dripping directly into your soul to shake it. “Wanna feel that lace clamped around my head while I-” 

“Fuck, Frankie, let’s…” You panted out a breath, leaning your forehead into his shoulder as he let out a short chuckle. “Yeah. Let’s go.”  

As soon as the words were out of your mouth he was in motion, gathering up his jacket and handing you your purse. The small black rectangle swung from the strap with the force of his hasty grab, and you had to laugh, teeth biting down into your bottom lip. God, we’re like two horny kids, it’s…  Frankie’s wide palm settled firmly on your back then, steady and strong and you let him guide you through the cluster of tables and away from the reception area. It’s crazy how much I want him. 

His fingers flexed as he moved his hand around to your hip, and as the door to the hotel lobby slid open, you looked up at him and the heat that had been pooling in your lower belly flooded through your entire body. 

Because when he looked down at you, you saw, you felt - you knew - that he wanted you just as much. I’m yours, Frankie. 

–  –  –  

Your dress was over your head and on the floor within seconds of stepping into the room. Frankie’s hands worked quickly to bolt the lock before removing your clothing and landing at your waist. A groan rumbled deep in his throat to make a breath catch in yours. Oh, that- Your fists tightened in the material of his shirt as the gravelly sound he made stirred the embers in your belly into flame. Tipping your head back, his name left your lips in a sigh as your eyes clamped shut.  

“Finally got you to myself.” His large palms roved up your sides, fingers flexing into your flesh as he leaned in to pin you to the door. Ducking his head so that his lips hovered just over the pulse point on your neck, you felt the vibrations of each syllable as he spoke. “All to myself.” 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, hands blindly moving to the buttons on his shirt and undoing the few that were still fastened. You sure do. He mouthed along the slope of your shoulder and then back up your throat, smiling when he felt you swallow. His touch wandered around to your back, climbing up and over the clasp of your bra, and you were emboldened by the sound - and feel - of another of his groans. Tongue flicking out to wet your lips, you challenged him. “What are you gonna do about it, Morales?” 

When he lifted his head to lock his eyes with yours, there was no need for him to answer your question with words. Oh fuck. You saw the same dark veil of desire fall over them that had been there from the start - when all you had were late night fucks, no feelings, all fast moves and finding release. But behind that, now you saw something else. Something that both deepened and brightened that darkness currently overtaking his brown eyes. Because now it’s… now we- 

Frankie dropped his gaze then, letting it rake all the way down your form as he took half a step back. “Fuck,” he muttered, chest heaving as he took in the view of your body. You felt the way his eyes lingered on the lacy band of your thigh highs for a few seconds, as though he were tracing the patterns and memorizing the way they looked stretched over the muscles of your legs. Hands following the trail that his eyes were blazing, he let them both settle low on your hips, thumbs swiping over the thin material of your underwear and into the crease where your thigh met your pelvis. “Look at you.” 

His eyes snapped back up to yours then, and there it was - desire, but not just to take. Not just to have you in his hands and take you into his bed, but to take you apart, peel pleasure from you in spirals. You sucked in a breath, letting it out in a quick exhale that you were sure he felt fan across his lips and cheek. He didn’t have to answer your question with words, but he did anyway. 

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do about it?” His voice was deep and raspy as he asked, and it was all you could do to nod in response. He pressed his thumbs more firmly into the space they occupied, the tip of his tongue flicking out to dampen his lips. “Gonna make you forget all about going back downstairs for that drink.” 

You were going to say something teasing or clever. Something witty or flirty. But that was before the corner of Frankie’s mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin that teemed with mischief. That was before his hands coasted over your curves as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, chin tilted up so he could appreciate you from a new angle. When he looks at me like that it's… A thin whimper broke loose from your lips, your breathing starting to become quicker and more shallow as you let him overwhelm you. And he hasn’t even done anything yet. Fuck. Instead of anything like what you were planning on saying, you opted for his name as you combed your fingernails through his hair. 

“Yeah?” He let his right hand wander to the back of your left thigh, fingertips running over the textured lace there. You shook your head. “What drink?” 

He let out a short huff of laughter, and then you gasped as his right hand plunged downwards between the elastic and your skin, the sheer fabric stretching over his knuckles as he gripped your flesh. “These are…” His other palm slid down the outside of your right leg, his eyes following his own movement. They widened, a quiet curse falling from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your calf, and then he lifted his gaze back up to find yours. “I like these.” Leaning forward, he laid his lips to the skin of that thigh, just above the edge of the band holding the barely-there garment up. You sighed at the warm drag of his mouth along the lace. “Like you in these.” 

He turned his face to give the same attention to your opposite thigh, the hair on his head brushing the skin he’d just lavished with his tongue and lips, the hair on his cheek and chin tickling your other leg as he kissed you there as well. That feels… Your eyes fell shut as your hand found its way into his curls, fingers weaving between them, and you let out a hum. “Thought you might, Frankie.” You opened your eyes again, lids heavy as you looked down at him. He tilted his head back to rest his chin on your kneecap. “Hoped you would.” 

“Did you?” He squeezed you gently as he asked, both hands kneading into your muscle. You responded with a whispered yes. “Well, as usual,” he mumbled, pausing to place another kiss to the inside of your left thigh, the sensation causing you to let out a breathless sigh, “you were right.” You shivered as you felt the light scrape of his teeth over the skin he’d just been focused on. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy all night knowing you had these on under that dress and-” You nearly went boneless as he pressed his forehead and nose to the front of your right thigh, groaning into your skin. “And that you put ‘em on for me.” 

“I did.” You practically panted out the words as your hands fell to his shoulders. Why is he still wearing clothes? “Did it in the car when I got here. Put ‘em on so you could take them off me, Frankie.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna. Wanna take everything off you.” His eyes flicked up to the matching black lingerie set that you wore, following the scalloped edges that hugged the swell of your breasts. “Just not yet.” 

He nuzzled higher up towards the apex of your thighs, his hot breath setting you ablaze as you suddenly realized - at the same time he did - that you were already soaked at just the hint of what was to come. Oh, fuck. 

The starving sound in his voice as he said your name cracked you open and turned everything inside of you to molten liquid. 

Oh, fuck, I… he-  His eyes flashed and then fell shut as his tongue pressed flat against the material of your underwear, and you couldn’t contain your moan if your life depended on it. And he wants to hear it. He swore under his breath, the string of half coherent curses vibrating through the damp material and sending sparks into your bloodstream. 

“Gonna start with these, though.” His tongue teased the edge of them, pushing beneath the elastic as he reached for the waistband with both hands. Teeth catching on the hem, he grinned and they snapped back against your skin. You inhaled sharply in a hiss as his fingers hooked in the band, the sparks in your veins bursting in tingling explosions. Wait! He needs to… he’s still dressed and - “They’re in my way. Wanna make you come on my tongue and-”

“Fuck, Frankie, wa- wait.” You gripped his shoulders, swallowing hard as your heart thundered and your head spun. Wetting your lips, you blinked down at him and took a few deep breaths. 

Hands stilling where he touched you, he leaned back to look up, eyes connecting instantly with yours. “You okay? What’s-” 

Before the crease between his brows could fully deepen, you shook your head and gave him a dizzy smile. “I’m fine.” Way more than fine. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. “Feeling kind of underdressed though.” Pulling at the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, you raised one eyebrow. “C’mon, Frankie, take this off. I want to… need to touch you.” Your voice warbled in your throat as he leaned forward to brush a kiss right below your navel, that molten heat you felt before responding to his lips by pooling in that spot. 

You whimpered, imagining him trying to lick at that heat with his tongue. He released a throaty sigh and though you couldn’t be sure, you had a feeling he was imagining the same thing. 

You didn’t have to ask him twice to take his shirt off, and you knew it was because he was just as eager to feel your hands on his skin as you were to put them there. He stood at your urging, letting you help him with the few remaining buttons, and then your hands were slipping under the open sides of his shirt as his found their home near your hips. Moving your palms over his chest and up towards his shoulders, you shucked the dress shirt down onto his biceps, your touch roving around to his back. As soon as his torso was bared he pulled you flush to his body, and then it was your turn to trail your lips in places that made him hum and groan. Because I’ve been waiting all night for this, too. 

As the thought crossed your mind Frankie’s hips rolled into yours, and the feel of him - hard and thick and making his pants work to contain him - pulled another sound from you, this one grittier, needier, as you nipped at his jaw. Fuck, I’ve never… Your hands went back to the crooks of his elbows, where the sleeves of his shirt still hung on his frame, and you pushed them down his forearms. Never wanted anyone as much as I want this man. 

“Easy, killer.” He teased, using one hand to free the other from his sleeves and then switching so that his shirt finally dropped to the floor. Your fingers had flown to the zipper on his pants, fumbling with the button there by the time he encircled your wrists, his grip strong but gentle as he stroked your pulse point with his thumb. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He eased your hands away from his fly, leaving it open as he used his hold on you to lead you fully into the room. After a few steps, he turned you so that you were in front of him, and then instead of pulling, he lightly pushed you until you felt the edge of the mattress behind your legs. “And neither are you.” 

He pushed a little more firmly, just enough to make you tip backwards onto the bed, a small string of laughter spilling from you as the mattress bounced beneath your body. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as Frankie finished what you’d started with his pants. They fell around his ankles and then he stepped out of them, his grin growing wolfish as he closed the distance to kneel at the foot of the bed. 

“Now -” His palms slid up the sides of your thighs so that his fingers could find the band of your underwear again. “Think we were right… about…” Curling his digits, he tugged the material to pull it down, exposing your damp skin to the cool air of the hotel room and making you suck in a breath. “Here.” 

The last word came as his mouth descended on you, and within minutes you were ready to give him what he said he wanted before he took your tights off, your release slicking his chin and lips as one of your heels pressed into the shoulder blade that it was thrown over. When he finally lifted his head to look up at you, you panted out his name, breathless already. But I want more, I want- 

You wanted to feel him fill you, stretch you, needed him deeper than his tongue could delve. You wanted to watch the way his throat tightened as you clenched around him, wanted to see the way bliss blew the blackness in the center of his eyes outward towards the edges. You wanted to feel his muscles work against and with your own before they went slack and soft, needed the contrast of climax and the caresses that would follow. 

You wanted to fuck and then fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved with every cell in your being as the lazy sound of waves rolling up onto the sand floated through the balcony door.  

But before you could reach for him to coax him up towards you, he used the shoulder that was still under your leg to scoot you higher up on the bed. “M’not done with you yet.” One eyebrow pitched into an arch as he shook his head. “Not even close.” Shrugging your thigh down into the crook of his arm, he turned his face to press his lips - still partially coated in you - to your skin. “Gotta take these off, remember?” Moving his head and angling his chin, he opened his mouth and bit the lacey edge of your stockings. “S’why you put them on, right?” 

It sure fucking is. Frankie. All you could do was nod. 

Keeping the lace between his teeth, Frankie began to move slowly towards your ankle, peeling the fabric down over your knee. He paused there, lips grazing your skin, the bottom one obscured by the nylon that was stretched over it making the upper one feel warmer and softer. Oh, fuck. You let out a hum that you knew he heard, his eyes lifting from what he was doing to find yours as his hands continued to roam - one over your thigh, the other dragging down over your abdomen. 

“You like that?” His voice was a low, gritty rasp, the heat from his breath getting trapped between the sheer fabric and your skin, spreading down your shin. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “Feels good, Frankie.” 

That was an understatement. It felt like a goddamned blessing to know that this man wanted nothing more than to be undressing you with his teeth. That the only place he wanted to be in that moment - and he could be anywhere in the entire world - was right between your legs, tangled up in your limbs. It made you feel invincible and indestructible to know that he’d chosen you, that you had given your whole self to him and he’d accepted every piece of you, that he’d placed those pieces in his heart. It felt like pure passion and trust to love and be loved by Frankie Morales, especially when this was how he chose to show you. 

I fucking love him so much. 

He finally released his bite, letting go of the stocking which was bunched near your ankle, and then slipped two fingers between it and your skin to yank it off of your foot. “Gonna take the other one off, too.” 

At that, you groaned, the sound turning into a desperate whine. “No, Frankie, don’t… don’t tease. Need to… need, fuck, Frankie, I can’t wait any-” 

His chuckle was dark and deep and breathless. “Neither can I.” At that, he moved up the bed, reaching for a small box on the nightstand next to his wallet that you hadn’t noticed earlier - condoms, you realized in a haze as he tore open the package and deftly rolled the rubber over his length - and then he placed his lips next to your ear. “Gonna take the other one off… after.”

–  –  –  

It was late morning by the time the two of you made it back down to the lobby, the hotel staff busily tending to the continental breakfast buffet that you could see Pope, Yovanna, Will and a few of the girls from the bridal party partaking in, and as you let Frankie lead you over towards them, his hand solidly placed on the small of your back as Pope’s voice carried across the space ribbing the two of you with “Look what the cat dragged in!”, you could only think of two things - one, that Frankie had been right about the two of you not making it back for a goodnight drink, and two, that the pair of stockings now laying ruined on the floor of your room had been the best fashion choice you’d ever made in your life.

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#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x female reader #pedrostories #frankie morales fic #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #will miller #kinktober but make it january #whoops #this is a smut #but with feelings #anywho ENJOY.

[staticscreenwriting]

maybe the night would take me home II Frankie Morales

Part 1 : "Divorce And The American South"  & "The Thunderbird Inn"

a Frankie Morales Story inspired by the album  "We Don't Have Each Other" by  Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties.

A/N : This imagine series will deal with sensitive topics please see my tags for TW. Please proceed with caution. Also there’s mention of smoking and alcohol. English is not my native language, go easy on me please. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

He can just about make out the glow coming from the street light in front of his window. There used to be more color permeating the thin curtains and throwing kaleidoscope patterns into his motel room but people have started to take down their Christmas lights leaving him with just the ugly yellow of the street lamp.

The motel room is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks it's fitting because that's exactly how he feels and really, he doesn’t mind it all that much.

The clerk at the front desk, he wants to say his name is Steve, is nice, and always pours him a cup of coffee whenever he finds Frankie sitting in the tiny lobby area of the Motel where the vending machines are. The coffee isn’t good but it’s warm and that’s enough these days.

“Long night?” he asks and every time Frankie nods and says “Sure has been.” Steve then grants him one of those smiles that lets you know the person is looking straight through your lie but they’re way too nice to call you out on your bullshit. 

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day. Hope that one is better,” he replies, every time.

Frankie nods again knowing full well it won’t be.

He’s given Frankie a break on the rent this week. 

“Look don’t you worry about it. Just make sure you pay me back with next week’s rent. I know you’re good for it.” 

“I probably am.” 

Steve was laughing then. He probably won’t laugh when he hears that Frankie’s coming up short again this week.

Back in his tiny motel room, his clammy hands grab the room's phone tightly. It will probably cost him a fortune to use it — again — though after throwing it against a solid brick wall, his cell phone is but a piece of junk left somewhere by the side of the truck stop. 

He doesn't really need it anyway. Too many pictures and memories and shit he doesn't want to think about because he can’t get it back.  

He takes another sip from the bottle. He thinks it's whiskey but he might be wrong. It all tastes the same these days.

Calling her won’t do any good and he knows but he can't help himself. It's like an itch that he just has to scratch. It's like a desperate need that he has to satisfy. It's like an addiction he has to feed.

It's 2 in the morning and she's most likely asleep and Frankie hates himself for waking her up. She's lost enough sleep as it is. But his mind is so loud and he needs to get all of these things off his chest. All the things he didn't say when he should have, when it counted, when it meant something, when she needed him to.

It's not the first time he's called either. He wonders if she'll ever pick up.

There's a perfectly clear picture burned into his mind of the first time he'd called her after he left. He had been stranded at some run-down truck stop that could've been the perfect location for the first kill in a horror movie. There was a bottle of water in his hand and the phone receiver in the other.

He can't recall how long he'd spent inside the phone booth reading her number out loud and trying to work up the courage to call her but he knows it's been quite a while. And when he did he was met with the dial tone. With every beep his heart sunk a little further, felt a little heavier.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Her voice sounded so cheery and he remembers the tears threatening to leave his eyes at the sound of it. She hadn't sounded this cheery in a long long time and his heart broke knowing that was partially his fault.

" Hey Y/N, It's me .... Frankie. If you’re listening can you please pick up the phone? I know you're home. "

He could still recall her daily schedule better than anything, after all, they had been living together for years.

" I know where I went wrong. I really do. I uh— I'm at a truck stop. Not sure where I'm going yet but I'll call you. Please talk to me, baby. I love you. "

He remembers his heart breaking and breaking more and shattering and it hasn't been fixed yet. There's that little cynical corner of his brain that tells him it never will be fixed. All good things come to an end sooner or later and this is THE good thing in his life. She is the best thing. She was the chance he never thought he’d get. A shot at redemption.

That other day he found a bar just outside the township line. He goes most every night now whenever he can feel a bad night coming. All nights are bad nights now. The floors are sticky and the bar is dusty but the drinks are cheap and the barkeeper doesn’t bother to get him tangled up in any kind of conversation. All Frankie gets is a look of pity as he pours him another drink. Fuck, he didn’t know that he looks that pathetic. 

The alcohol doesn’t numb his heart the way it used to. Back when he woke up in a cold sweat with visions of a life he tried so hard to leave behind he could always count on the inside of a bottle to make the demons disappear for a while. Then when that stopped working, the drugs managed to do it. 

And then when he hit rock bottom, for some inexplicable reason, life chose to send him her and she made every other coping mechanism pale in comparison. Her love did not make the demons go away, or the fear, or the guilt. Her love made him realize that he could live a good life regardless. That even the worst parts of him are worthy of love. 

He thinks she might’ve been wrong.

There's a half-empty pack of cigarettes laying on the nightstand. He hasn't touched them for a while. Got them at that same truck stop where he smashed his phone but only smoked half a pack before he remembered that promise he made her a long time ago, back when she had first told him, back when they were happy.

And he failed. Because for a while he’d felt like the reason he stopped smoking in the first place had vanished. If there was no one to promise something to, was there even a promise to begin with? 

The cigarettes bring back memories of the second time he'd called her. It was right after he arrived here, at this very same motel. With the very same peeling wallpaper and the chipped door and the ceiling fan that is missing one blade and the carpet with the burn marks. The same motel he is basically succumbing in right now.

He was less nervous the second time he'd called her, less nervous but more fucked up. Half drunk on cheap whiskey and half drunk on the infinite sadness he's felt ever since their life went to shit.

This time he didn't make himself believe she'd pick up. He knew she wouldn't and maybe that was a good thing. Frankie didn't want her to know he was shitfaced, that he tried to numb the pain with past vices he promised to leave behind.

" Hey Y/N "

As the words rolled off his lips there was no doubt in his mind that she'd still know. He sounded drunk. He hated it.

" Just wanted to tell you that uh — I uh I've been trying to quit. I went from a pack and a half a day to this e-cigarette bullshit. "

It had been a stupid idea, thinking this e-cigarette shit would do anything for him but it was worth a try. Everything was worth a try for her.

" It stops the coughing fits. I know that you always hated my smoking habit. I hope you can be a little proud of me. I know I don't deserve it. I love you, bye."

There was a time, Frankie thinks and scoffs, when he thought love was enough. What a fool he'd been. Now he knows that's all proper bullshit.

It isn't like he doesn't love her, he loves her entirely too much for his own good. 

It's that too much love can destroy you. It eats you up from the inside out.

He can't keep himself from loving her though, and from holding onto that little spark of hope that she might still love him back. After all they've been through, all they had to endure, the thought that she might one day forgive him and love him again was the only thing still keeping him afloat. Without her, he'd sink. And maybe, he thinks, maybe love is enough. It's enough to make him go on.

There's a fly buzzing around the room, sitting down on Frankie’s arm from time to time. He doesn't have the energy to swat her away.

A little voice in his mind wonders what would happen if he just kept laying here. Maybe if he only lays here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat him alive. Maybe the night will swallow him and take him home. Maybe she’ll come looking for him.

His mind wanders off to places he tried hard to forget. To the tears and the pain and the way she didn't yell at him. Not once.

She didn't scream or yell or throw stuff at him. She just stared and let it all wash over her as if she was invincible.

He knew she wasn't. Knows she isn’t now. She wasn't invincible but she was too deeply wounded to care anymore and that was the most terrifying part of it all.

He wanted her to yell so he knew she still cared.

He thinks of the dream and how he saw himself, lifeless, alone. How everyone was looking at him as they lowered his casket into the ground. How his friends were there, his brother, his family, and even the neighbors. Not her though. She wasn't there.

His fingers are dialing the familiar numbers before he can even fully register what's happening.

There's the dial tone that he's grown to know so well lately. Three more and he gets to hear her voice.

Two.

One.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Lies. She won’t call back. But that's okay, he understands why she doesn’t. Why she can’t.

" Y/N It's me again. Frankie. "

He combs his fingers through his hair nervously.

" Of course, it's me, who else would call you at this time? I'm sorry. "

He's been saying sorry an awful lot lately. Especially considering the fact that he hasn't been very generous with that word when it really mattered.

" I had a dream. About you. Well not exactly about you. Actually, you weren't in it and that's kind of the problem. "

Remembering the dream sends a cold shiver down his back.

" I uh — I was on a plane. I flew back north, no idea where I wanted to go. All I know is that I didn't make it there. Plane went down like it was made of paper. They were all at the funeral. My funeral. Everyone. Not you though. You — You weren't there Y/N. That scares me. I hope you'd come to the funeral. I'd want you there. "

He knows it's time. She's not gonna pick up anytime soon so this might be his only chance of ever getting to admit his faults of ever talking about the actual problem, the root of all the pain and heartbreak. It's not face-to-face but it's the next best thing. It's his only shot.

" Y/N, I know I fucked up. I do know. It's just after it happened. After — "

Saying it out loud will make it real. It will break his heart once again. He's an adult though and has been running from his issues long enough. This stupid urge to flee made this all so much worse.

Take a breath.

And face the reality.

" After it happened. When we lost the baby I just, I shut off. I shut you out and I am so sorry. I just, I needed to be strong for you but I wasn't. All I did was push you away. I never listened. I wasn't there. I should've been there for you to help you get through this but I was too busy keeping myself from bursting at the seams. Fuck, I was so selfish. If I could change the way I treated you, treated the situation, trust me I would. I would. I miss her so much Y/N and I never even got to meet her and I didn't want to put this all-consuming sadness on you so I pulled away. I didn't want to make you hurt even more than you already were but that's exactly what I did and I will never forgive myself for that. I hope you can though. I love you so much. "

There's a hole in his chest the size of a newborn.

It's the size of a little baby girl he never got to meet. A little baby girl he always imagined would have his eyes and her mother's breathtaking smile. A little baby girl he'd raise to be brave and generous and smart and wonderful. 

There is a hole in his chest the size of a little baby girl and he knows it will never fully heal.

He should've been there for her, his wife, the mother of his child. He had tried so hard, so hard to hide his sadness and pain from her instead of embracing it with her by his side. He should've been there with her so they could hold each other above the waters. But he let her drown by herself and he would never fully forgive himself for that.

" I love you Y/N and I'm coming home soon I promise. That's if you still want to see me. I won't let you go through the darkness alone anymore though. I love you. "

He hangs up the phone and without a warning, the tears roll down his cheeks. They're the silent kind, the painful kind. But for once, since it all happened they're not entirely from sadness, a small part of him is feeling a little lighter now that he's faced reality. A small part of him cries tears of relief. A small part of him still believes that maybe things with his wife can work out again if only he can show her how much he cares and loves her. That he can hold her hand even through the darkest of times.

A small part of him knows that it can't get worse than this.

A small part of him, a small part knows she loves him back. Even with that gray cloud hanging over him reminding him of the paperwork that might be waiting for him at home. 

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks that things can only get better from here on out.

It’s 2am when he sneaks out of his room and past the lobby. Steve will forgive him, he’s sure of it. For the two weeks' rent and for not saying goodbye. 

The world is fast asleep as his car takes him down the empty streets towards the bar he found some resemblance of comfort in for the last few weeks.

One last drink, he tells himself. But this one won’t be for the bad days ahead. This one will mark a page turned, a step taken.

“Whiskey?” the barkeeper inquires, already pulling the bottle from the shelf. 

“Gimme a beer instead. Whatever bottles you have in the fridge is fine.” 

No more words are exchanged as the barkeeper hands Frankie the cold bottle.

This one’s for the daughter he’ll never meet, he thinks, and the wife who shouldn’t love him no more but god does he hope and pray she still does. Even when he doesn’t deserve it.

He’s got half a tank of gas left and as soon as the bottle is empty he’ll make his way home.

Not the motel. 

Home. Their apartment.

And he’ll face whatever is waiting there for him. 

That’s the thing about losing everything — things can only get better from here on out.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales imagines #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales imagines #francisco morales imagine #francisco morales x female reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier imagines #triple frontier imagine #Story TW: Miscarriage #Story TW: alcohol #Story TW: smoking #Story TW: slight mention of drugs

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn���t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales imagine #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction

[ilovepedro]

just married | frankie morales x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: You and Frankie just tied the knot. Half way through the reception, your insatiable husband whisks you away for some much needed privacy.

Warnings: fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism (sex in a private bathroom), unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy frankie friday! this is based off this post, i could not for the life of me shake this from my head. literally wrote this in an hour, i’m telling y’all i’m actually going insane. the brain rot is actually concerning. FRANKIE NATION RISE! 🫡 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼 i loveeee me some frankie 🫠 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍��️

Divider by @saradika

“Come on, hermosa,” Frankie rasps in your ear, moving his hands from your hips and grabbing your hand, a small smirk playing on his lips. Music booms from the DJ’s speakers, the dance floor lively and vibrant.

“Where are we going, baby?” You ask, your gown flowing freely as your new husband swiftly maneuvers you through the crowd. “You’ll see,” he shouts over the thrumming music. Your body buzzing with excitement and a smile, so big it hurts, adorns your face.

Leading you out into the hall and racing up the stairs, giggling like a couple of school children. Frankie drags you to the bathroom at the end of the hall, flinging the door open and guiding you inside.

He grips your hips and crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your dissipating giggles as he presses you up against the door and locks it. You whimper softly as his hands begin to roam your body.

His hands roam your backside, making his way down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Frankie!” You squeal, breathlessly, laughter bubbling over your lips as you pull back for a bit of air.

A toothy grin breaks out into his face. “I’ve missed you, hermosa,” he pants, the both of you breathless from running and desperately kissing each other.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Not having had a moment to yourselves this whole day, you two bask in this brief moment of privacy.

He brings you in for another insatiable kiss. Your hands tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into you. Snaking his hands down your waist, he cups your mound in one hand. You moan into him as your brows scrunch in pleasure, grinding against his hand.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day, baby,” he groans, guiding you to the sink, pressing your backside up against it as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby, this goddamn dress is driving me crazy,” he whispers, nipping your neck. 

“You’re driving me crazy, Frankie,” you gasp. “Look so fucking sexy in that tux, baby.” He smiles into your skin, working his way back up to draw you in for another kiss. You moan into his mouth as he slips his tongue inside, arousal pooling in your panties and sticking to your sex. Swallowing every moan that pours into his mouth, he pulls back, your lipgloss staining his lips. 

Crouching to his knees, he bunches your gown up over his head and moans at the sight of your lacy panties paired with your garter. 

“Fuck, baby. So fucking wet for me all fucking the time,” he whispers huskily as his large, warm hands run along your thighs. He slides your garter down your leg, tucking it into his back pocket. 

Propping you up onto the sink, he spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your sex. You moan at the feeling, aching for more. One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance, parting your lips and allowing your husband a view of your glistening pussy.

“Please, Frankie,” you plead breathlessly, tossing your head back. 

“Yeah? My pretty little wife wants me to eat her pussy? Huh, mi esposa?” You moan, eagerly nodding as you clench around nothing. Frankie doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together.

“What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Without warning, Frankie dives in and licks broad stripes up your folds, gasping as you bite back a moan with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, attempting to be quiet. 

“No no, baby. I wanna hear you. They can’t even hear us with the music, it’s just us, baby - just me and you,” he says before diving back in and licking through your folds, his strong nose nudging your clit and your eyes flying open.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You moan loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you toss your head back, caution blown to the wind. You snake a hand into Frankie’s curls, tugging at them and eliciting a groan from your husband. The vibrations against your cunt send a new wave of arousal seeping from you, Frankie lapping up every drop as he drowns in your slick.

His tongue prods your entrance, fucking into you. He groans at the way you clench around him, chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

It’s sloppy, and hungry the way he laves at your weeping cunt. His tongue circles your clit relentlessly, your cries filling the air. His lips wrap around your swollen bud as his grip on your thighs tightens. Your hips involuntarily buck up into his face. He snakes his left hand up to your stomach, ring-adorned hand pushing you down and holding you in place. 

“So f-fucking good, F-Frankie, oh my god,” you keen above him, legs wrapping around his back as you try to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. His relentless pace creates a cloud of stars in your eyes. 

“I’m close, Frankie! So close, don’t stop! Please don’t stop, baby,” you yelp, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as the coil in your belly tightens.

A sudden intrusion pulls a sharp gasp from you. Two of his thick, long fingers crook into that spongy spot with every stroke as he sucks on your clit. 

His fingers, his mouth, the ring on the hand which pins you down overwhelms you - he’s all-consuming. 

Your vision flashes hot white as the coil in your belly snaps, cumming all over your husband’s face and his fingers. Frankie laps at your juices as you grind your cunt into his face, thighs trembling while riding out your high. He groans as he slurps you up like the sweetest nectar, not wasting a single drop. Your whines fill the air along with a squelching sound as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. 

He pulls back and rises to his feet, his patchy beard glistening with your slick. Slamming his lips onto yours, the two of you moan into each other. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes your head spin.

Frankie ruts his hips into yours, his clothed cock brushing against your exposed cunt and a loud cry pouring from your lips at the sensitivity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer, you buck your hips against his, seeking more stimulation.

“Lean back for me, baby.” he rasps as he pulls back, gently pushing you back against the mirror. He makes quick work unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants to his ankles. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, mouth watering at the sight of your husband’s angry, leaking cock. Unable to resist, you palm him in your hands, smearing the dribbles of precum along his throbbing length. Frankie stifles a moan, moving your hand away and lines up his cock at your dripping hole.

Swirling small circles around your entrance, gathering the new wave slick that pours from your cunt on his length.

“Frankieeee,” you keen. “No teasing, please, amor,” you huff, on the verge of tears as your desperation grows.

“I got you, amor, don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear. He slides in slowly, but smoothly in one go, your slippery folds allowing him easy access. Both of you moan in tandem, Frankie’s brows pinched together and your lips parted.

You’re so full, relishing in the dull sting as he stuffs your wet heat to the brim. “Move, baby. Please move, mi amor,” you plead, breathless and desperate, seeking some relief.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, I always will,”  He says, voice hushed and husky, placing a kiss to your forehead. 

You know his words run deeper than just the matter at hand, having promised to love you eternally just hours ago.

He slowly drags out of you ever so slightly before snapping his hips into yours, his tip punching your g-spot. His hands rest on your waist as he picks up his pace. The room sounds pornographic - filled with the sounds of your squelching pussy, skin-on-skin, moans, and pants.

“I’m the lu-luckiest man ever. Got the prettiest girl ever to m-marry me. Knew you’d make a beautiful bride, hermosa. Most beautiful f-fuckin’ bride in the world, my pretty little wife. Get to, shit, get to love you and fuck this tight little pussy every goddamn day for the rest of our lives. Fuck,” he rambles, hips canting into yours.

Clenching around him at his words, more slick drips from your weeping cunt and onto the counter. An endless string of moans tumble from you and into the air.

“S-so fucking good to m-me, baby. So l-lucky to be your wife,” you keen, pressing your forehead against his. He hungrily captures your lips in a ferocious kiss, teeth clashing together as neither of you care how messy you two will look after.

“My wife. You’re mine, baby, you’re mine forever,” he moans as his tip kisses your cervix. Your walls flutter around him, your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Come on, baby, come on, baby. Let go, hermosa. I know you’re close. Let me feel you, I got you, baby,” he babbles almost incoherently. You wail as your orgasm washes over you, convulsing under his grasp, twitching uncontrollably as slick endlessly streams from your cunt. “There we go, baby. Good girl. So fucking good, hermosa. Always feel so fucking good,” Frankie groans against your lips, his thrust growing sloppy as your slippery cunt sucks him in.

“Love you so much, Frankie,” you gasp. “Love you too, hermosa,” he grunts. You can feel him throb inside of you.

“Cum, Frankie. Fill me up, please, baby,” you beg, still riding out the high of your climax.

“Yeah baby? Want my cum? Want me to stuff you full and walk around our wedding with my cum dripping out of your tight little pussy?" 

A high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you squeeze tightly around him. “Yes, Frankie! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs under my dress,” you squeal, overstimulation starting to sink in.

"My dirty fucking girl,” he rasps, punctuating his words with every thrust as he shoots warm ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your walls with his seed. A guttural groan rumbles from deep within his chest. Slowing his pace, you whimper as he fucks his cum into your used hole.

He rests his clammy forehead against yours, breath fanning each other's faces. Post-coital bliss settling amongst you two, the faint humming of the music from the reception rings in the air.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” You ask, panting. A deep chuckle rattles his chest, making you laugh. “I’m pretty sure they have, hermosa.” You pull him in by his tie, kissing him languidly. He pulls back and presses a playful tap to your thigh.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go before the guys start talking shit,” he says, helping you to your feet, and wiping his spend from your mound and in between your legs. He settles your gown into place as you fix your makeup in the mirror. He fixes his hair while you adjust his suit and tie back into place. You beam as you lock eyes with his, love shimmering in the corners of them. He entwines his fingers with yours as he leads you out the door and back downstairs to the reception.

It seems nobody has noticed you two were gone, or just don’t question your absence, as you two mingle your way back into the crowd.

“Hey! Where the hell were you two?! It’s time for the bouquet toss!" You best friend, and maid-of-honor, screeches.

"And the garter toss!” Santiago, the best man, chimes in. They drag you both to the dance floor. Women crowd the dance floor as you toss your bouquet over your shoulder, your best friend catching it and eyeing her partner. 

Music blares as Frankie leads you to a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He teasingly lifts your dress to remove your garter, to be met with nothing. Your eyes bug out of your head, heat coursing through your veins.

“Where’s my garter?” You ask him. Santiago appears behind Frankie, taking something out of his back pocket and holding it out to Frankie. “Here it is!”

Laughter erupts amongst your guests as you hide your face in your hands, an embarrassed smile plastered on Frankie’s lips, meekly waving to the crowd. He pries your hands from your face, playfully rolling his eyes as he brushes off the embarrassment while helping you to your feet. Cheering and whooping fills the hall as you smile apologetically to the crowd as they roar, Frankie cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

Frankie is rotting my brain today obvi. this one's for all my Frankie girlies out there, shout out to y’all 🩷

thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @amanitacowboy @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @tinygarbage @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @harriedandharassed

#happy frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales

[thetriumphantpanda]

driving home for christmas | frankie morales

Summary | With a long drive ahead of you to reach your parents for Christmas, there's only one thing to do to pass the time.

Word Count | 2k

Pairing | Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Mentions of family Christmas, oral sex (M), allusions to oral sex (f), road head (pls be safe y'all), smattering of cock worship, lil bit of competency kink, dirty talk (y'all this man has hell of a mouth), a little bit of cumplay if you squint.

Authors Note | I don't even have anything to say other than, I love this man and this has made me realise I need to write him more. Enjoy!

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

There’s something that always happens to you when you sit in the car alongside Frankie. The way he can effortlessly drive with one hand on the wheel, his fingers tapping along to the sounds of the radio, the way his free hand only leaves the top of your thigh to turn the wheel when it’s needed or to change gears and the way he always put his hand on the back of your seat when he’s reversing – it all makes you feel hot, watching his competency in action. It makes you want to fuck him.

But you’re already running late. Overslept this morning, Frankie’s fault for spending so long between your thighs the night before. Your parents, waiting at the other end of the journey to celebrate Christmas together for the first time, a text from your mother suggesting she’s slightly perturbed at your delay – her Christmas Eve meal pushed back a few hours, the bottles of champagne chilling but unopened until you arrive.

“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer, hermosa.” Frankie chuckles, catching your eyes trained on him, specifically the way his arms bulge when he shifts lanes on the highway.

“I don’t need one,” You shrug, “You’re always right here.”

He smiles lightly, watching as you pull your hands from your lap, set it on his knee and start slowly dragging your fingers up his jean-clad thigh. Frankie looks at you through the side of his eye, smirk splaying over his mouth as your hand moves higher.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?”

You shrug, “You shouldn’t be so fucking attractive then, should you?”

“That desperate to suck my cock that you can’t wait until tonight?” He teases, as your hand splays over the bulge growing in his jeans.

“Are you complaining?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Not at all, baby,” He shifts in his seat a little, moving himself down so your fingers can work the button of his jeans, “You knock yourself out.”

It’s all the permission you need to unclip your seatbelt and lean over the centre console. Frankie shifts just a little to let you reach a warm hand beneath the material of his jeans and his underwear to pull his cock free, running your hand gently up and down his length. You revel in the way his head tips back against the seat, his eyes fluttering closed a little before he realises he has to keep an eye on the road.

You languidly move your hand up and down his cock, there’s no need to rush, you still have a few hours between you and your destination, and you like the way that Frankie sounds when you tease him a bit, when you know exactly what he wants but won’t give to him just yet. The way he sucks that plush bottom lip into his mouth to save himself from begging, but always ends up doing it anyways.

You watch his face closely as you drag your thumb over his head, flushed red and leaking, the way he inhales gently from his mouth as you drag that slick around the head of his cock, dragging your fist down and back up a few times before you pull your hand away altogether. You can’t help the smile that drags across your face when he groans at your hand being gone, head turning to watch you as you keep your eyes on him, spit fully into your palm before it’s circled back around the base of his cock, fingers tighter around him this time as you drag your hand back up and down, Frankie’s head hitting the headrest, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

“You okay, baby?” You ask, sickly sweet as your hand continues to move up and down his cock.

“Would be even better if you put your mouth on me, cariño.”

“What’s the rush?” You shrug, hand squeezing around his length a little, “We’ve got hours to go.”

He clears his throat when your thumb runs over the underside of his flushed head, over that sensitive spot that always makes him grip his hand in your hair when you flutter your tongue over it.

“Because there’s a high likelihood that I’m going to have to pull over once you’re finished and eat your cunt, baby.”

His words make you gasp, heat settling in your stomach and a sharp strike of want right between your legs. The thought of him so desperate for you that he would pull over, spread you out on the backseat and eat you until you cried, like he always did, and there was no getting around it, that would take time, he liked to take his time with you, and you were already running late.

You shift in your seat, sink your body down so you can lean over the centre console. Your hand still gripping his cock, you press your lips to the tiny sliver of skin just above, where his jeans are undone and his t-shirt ends, tongue darting out to taste his skin as your hand keeps pumping him gently.

Your hand grips him near the tip of his cock, holding him still so you can press your hot mouth to the base of him, soft kisses pressed to his entire length until you reach the head of his cock, flushed an angry shade of red now. You smirk to yourself as you dart the tip of your tongue out, running it gently across the head, catching the bead of slick that sits on the slit of him as you go.

His taste drives you wild, it always has. Slightly bitter, but not unpleasant, salty and musky and something distinctly Frankie too. When the first taste hits your tongue, there’s a switch that flicks in your brain, you want more of it, you want every drop that he can give you, so you finally do what he’s been pleading with you to do, you wrap your hot mouth around his head, free hand slipping down to cup his balls in your palm, tongue swirling over his head before you start moving your mouth down slowly on him, pulling your lips off him, hand following up and down his cock to spread the wetness your mouth has left all over him.

“I love your cock so much, Frankie.” You speak softly, nuzzling his length with your nose, watching as your hand squeezes as it moves up his cock, bead of precome pooling at his tip, your tongue licking it into your mouth.

“That right, baby?” He asks, tone low.

“Yeah,” You sigh, subtly trying to rub your thighs together for some relief, “It’s so perfect, always makes me feel so good.”

“You gonna show me how much you love it?” It almost like a dare, and you’ve always liked a challenge.

So with one hand still cupping his balls, fingers moving gently against them, you wrap your mouth back around him and take him as far down into your mouth as you can before he hits the back of your throat, your other hand working across the length of him you can’t fit in your mouth.

“Shit baby,” He chokes out as you set a pace of moving your mouth up and down him, hand following, spreading spit all over him, wetness pooling at the base of his cock, “Yeah, that’s it, just like that.”

His praise makes you weak, makes you wet, you can already feel the slick pooling in your panties, but you know he can do better, you know he can be nicer to you. You relax your jaw a little, move your mouth down a little further than you had been, tip of Frankie’s cock hitting your throat. You hold yourself there for a moment before you bob your head right there where you are, his cock punching at the back of your throat, the wet sounds of him thrusting up into your mouth filling the car until Frankie hits just a little too far down, making your throat constrict around him, gagging and spluttering on him, tears forming at your waterline as you pull off him, string of saliva keeping your mouth attached to his cock as you catch your breath.

Frankie brings a hand down, cupping your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Too big for you, huh, baby?” He asks, winking at the end, “Put your mouth back on me,” He always gets a little demanding when he’s getting close, “You know I love it when you choke on me.”

Your tongue darts across your bottom lip before his hand on your chin tangles in the back of your hair, pushing your head gently back towards his cock, pushing your mouth down onto him as far as he thinks you can go. He fists at your hair, flicker of pain settling across your scalp as he uses the leverage to move your head up and down in just the right pace that he can push your throat down onto him, but pull you back off just in time to save you from gagging on him.

He’s getting louder with his moans, and you can feel the slight tightening of his balls in your palm, he’s close. When he drags your head up the next time, you tease the underside of his head with your tongue, which has him gripping your hair tighter, keeping you still right there.

“Jesus, fuck,” He groans out, “Do that again.”

So you do, you keep the tip of your tongue flicking at the underside of his cock, one of your hands coming back to the base of him, pumping his length as you work your mouth over him.

“God damn it, baby, I’m gonna come.”

You moan around him, all the permission he needs to start moving your head again until he keeps you still with your lips wrapped around the base of his cock. You can feel the warm spurts of his cum before he lets out a ragged moan into the air of the car, that taste you love so much spreading out across your tongue, thick and viscose as he drains himself into your mouth.

You’re both still for a moment - you can hear him sucking in breath from above you, his hand loosening it’s grip on your hair to let you sit back up in your seat.

Much like he did before, he grips your chin in his hand, turns your face to his, “Show me.”

You open your mouth, stick your tongue out a little to show him the milky white pool of his cum in your mouth. He tilts your chin down, pad of his thumb dragging across your tongue a little before he closes your mouth for you, raised eyebrow waiting for you to do exactly what you want and swallow him down, opening your mouth again, sticking your tongue right out this time to show him that it’s all gone.

“Good girl.”

He finally lets you sit back properly into your chair, seatbelt back on as he moves to tuck himself back into his jeans.

“Nice work, Morales.” You chuckle, eyes settling on the road ahead, “Road head whilst it’s snowing and we’re still alive?”

It’s snowing a little now, not enough to prove a problem, but enough to make the bubble of excitement meet the bubble of want in your stomach. Christmas is here, you think, warm hand slipping over to rest on Frankie’s thigh, his own free hand coming down to cover your own, smiling at you.

“Well, would you look at that,” He tilts his head towards a sign, “Somewhere to pull over.”

His eyes are expectant, your eyes are wide, thighs rubbing together a little at what that means.

“Want me to eat your pussy, baby?”

But of course, it’s a rhetorical question, because of course you do, his fingers already tipping the indicator down, switching lanes so he can pull off the highway.

“Merry Christmas to us, I guess.”

#Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x you #Frankie Morales x female reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales fic #Frankie Morales fanfic #Frankie Morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #Pedro pascal #Frankie Morales Pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

[joelsgreys]

more hearts than mine

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

summary: Frankie promises you he’s not going anywhere.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. no physical description of reader, no mention of her age, reader has both of her parents, reader has a little sister (15 and unnamed), reader has a close relationship with her family (cannot say i am writing this from experience oop), reader is from a small, unnamed town somewhere in the midwest (state not specified), established relationship, mention of ex-boyfriend, mentions of alcohol consumption, reassurance, fluff, smutty themes towards the end but no smut.

word count: 2k

a/n: this was not planned and very spur of the moment. i think i needed a palette cleanse from writing so much joel. it’s my first time writing for frankie but i like the way it turned out. <3 i it’s 3 am, i wrote this in an hour and it is not proofread, so please excuse any errors. this is based on a song called more hearts than mine by ingrid andress.

“It’s late,” you worry. “Where could they be?”

Amused, your mother watches you anxiously pace back and forth in front of the dining room table. “My darling, can you please relax? They probably hit some traffic on their way back home from the lake. I bet you anything those two will be walking through the front door any second now,” she assures you. At that precise moment, her cell phone vibrates on the table, the loud buzzing noise garnering her attention. She picks it up and raises her eyebrows in complete surprise. “Oh. Or maybe not. Your father just texted me and said they’re stopping for a couple of drinks at the bar. He says not to wait up for them.”

Halting mid pace, you whirl around and stare at her. 

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” She shows you the text. “See?”

“Jesus,” you mutter. Shaking your head, you drop down into the chair across from hers.

“That’s a pretty good sign. Don’t you think so, honey?”

It is because your father taking your boyfriend out on a fishing trip and then taking him to his favorite bar for drinks afterwards means that their time alone together has gone well. But, even though your father had clearly taken a liking to him, he won’t ever show it. Sure, he’ll buy him dinner and he’ll buy him drinks, he’ll check his tires and take a look underneath the hood of his pickup truck to make sure everything looks good, but he’ll do it with a scowl on his face and a standoffish attitude.

“He hates me, baby. Your old man hates me,” Frankie declared after his first dinner with your family. You had both arrived in your hometown that same evening after a gruelling, sixteen hour drive to the midwest. Despite being exhausted from the trip, he’d put his best foot forward for them—he’d charmed your mother and your little sister, had them both wrapped around his finger by the time dessert had been served. But your father, oh he had been much harder for him to win over. “He barely said two words to me all night.”

“My dad doesn’t hate you,” you swore to him, rubbing a soft, soothing circle into his broad back. “Do you want to know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because he poured you a drink.”

He’d snorted. “What, and that means he likes me?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” you joked with a giggle. “It’s still too early to tell if he likes you. But one thing is for sure, he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t break out a bottle of whiskey for someone he hates, Frankie.”

Sighing, you lift your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Poor Frankie. He’s probably spent the better part of the whole day just trying to figure him out.

“I like him,” your mother says after a minute. “I like him a lot.”

“What a coincidence,” you grin. “I like him a lot too.”

She laughs. “I’m serious! He’s incredible, darling. He is so handsome. He’s sweet. Seems like he’s got a really good head on his shoulders—”

“Are we talking about Francisco?” Your sister walks into the dining room with can of Dr. Pepper in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Your mother smiles. “Isn’t he great?”

“He’s kinda perfect, actually.” She takes a casual sip of her soda and raises an eyebrow at you. “I have to admit though, I’m afraid to get attached to Frankie. You know, after what happened with Jake—”

You wince at the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name.

Your mother hisses her name, angrily.

“I’m just saying! When he broke up with you, it’s like he broke up with all of us. It sucked.” She shrugs, adding, “I mean, even dad was sad about it for months. Wasn’t he, mom?”

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Your mother glares at her.

Your sister starts towards the staircase, but stops and glances over her shoulder. “I like Frankie,” she tells you, smiling wryly. “And I really hope he sticks around.” With that, she disappears upstairs.

Sighing heavily, your mom turns to you. “Don’t listen to her. She’s only fifteen, she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t understand what happened—”

Pushing away from the table, you stand up. 

“I’m going to take a walk,” you murmur. “I need some fresh air.”

“Hermosa?”

You stir at the sound of Frankie’s voice.

“Baby. Hey. Wake up.”

“Mm?” you mumble sleepily. “Frankie, what are—ow!”

You groan when he switches on the lamp on the beside table. Rolling over, you bury your face into your pillow.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, chuckling softly. The twin sized mattress squeaks, dipping as he somehow squeezes himself beside you on your childhood bed. He’s staying in the guest room down the hallway—you parents, who were incredibly old school, had insisted the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms during your stay. Draping his arm around you, he leans down and nuzzles into the side of your face. Even with your nose buried in your pillow, you pick up the scent of sunscreen mingled with beer. “Just wanted to tell you I’m back home.”

Lifting your head, you blink furiously until your blurred vision stabilizes.

“What—what time is it?”

“Eleven.” Frankie’s cheeks and nose are red, sunburned from having been out on your dad’s boat all afternoon. You’re willing to bet he’d forgotten to put the sunscreen on his face. Even though you’d warned him a hundred times not to forget.

“What?” You sit up, prompting him to do the same. “It’s eleven and you only now just got back?”

“Your old man took me to Gordon’s,” Frankie explains, referring to one of the only few bars your small town had to offer. It was the place where you would meet with your old high school friends to catch up with each other whenever you were home visiting. At some point this week, you would be sitting in a booth at that old bar with them, introducing Frankie, and squirming when they began to tell him embarrassing stories of all those crazy nights from your senior year. “We went in with plans to have a couple beers before coming home, but then we ran into some of his buddies there. He introduced me, they bought us more drinks, and we played a game of pool. Your dad whooped my ass, of course.”

“How did fishing go?”

“Great. Y’know, once he stopped looking at me like he wanted to throw me overboard.”

You let out an amused huff. “He would never.”

“I don’t know. That man is pretty hard to read.” Frankie reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “One minute we’d be talking, shooting the shit while we waited for the fish to bite, and the next he would look at me like he was seriously thinking about pushing me off his boat and into the water.” He squeezes your hand, a deep laugh rumbling through his chest. “I spent all goddamn day with him and I still can’t tell if he likes me yet or not.”

Lifting his hand, you press a tender kiss to the back of it, a sweet token of affection.

“He likes you, Frankie,” you murmur against his skin. “I know it. My whole family likes you. Except my mom—”

He stiffens. “What?”

“She loves you.”

Frankie turns to you. Despite your smile, he can see the hint of concern in your eyes. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

You hesitate.

After what your sister had said earlier that evening, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake and brought him home too soon. You and Frankie had been together for about six months now, and besides having a drawer of your things at his place for when you stayed overnight, you two hadn’t really sat down to talk about what the next step in your relationship would be—you and Frankie hadn’t discussed the possibility of a future together. Truth be told, you had never felt the need to question him about where this was heading. You’d been perfectly content in allowing things to unfold between you without putting any kind of pressure on yourself, or on him. At least, up until now, you had been content.

You’d been silly to think bringing Frankie home to meet your family wouldn’t be all that big of a deal, that it wouldn’t make you consider what came next. But you had forgotten how easily your mother falls in love, how quickly your little sister can form an attachment, and how your father, despite being rough around the edges, feels every heartache you go through as if it’s his own.

You think back to when your previous relationship went down in flames, you remember the helpless look on your father’s face whenever he would see you crying. “I never liked him,” he’d said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey over ice. But that had been a lie. He’d seen him as the son he never had. He lost something, too. Your whole family had to heal from that loss along with you.

Part of you is afraid that it could happen again.

“Amor?”

Frankie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

You glance down at your hand in his. “Frankie, the last thing I want to do is scare you off,” you start to say, a nervous edge to your tone. “Or put any kind of pressure on you to give me anything more than what you have already given me. But now that you’ve met my family, I can’t help but worry a little bit.”

He frowns. “What are you worried about?”

Sighing, you confess, “My last relationship—it didn’t end very well, Frankie. My family loved him, adored him the way I can see they’re already starting to adore you. When he broke up with me, he broke more hearts than just mine.” You force yourself to look up, and meet his gaze with a wistful smile. “I guess there’s a part of me that’s scared it’ll happen again.”

Frankie’s dark brown eyes soften. “Oh baby, there’s no need to be scared. That’s never gonna happen.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll never happen?”

“Easy, because I love you. And I know you love me.” He reaches over with his free hand and he cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheekbone. “I’m in this for the long haul. I wouldn’t have driven sixteen hours across the country with you to come meet your family if I wasn’t. I’m serious about you—I’m serious about us, baby.”

Frankie leans in, gently pressing his mouth to yours in a chaste, but sweet kiss.

“Do you wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you see?”

“Mi futuro,” he tells you. “I see my future.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest. “You do?”

“I do. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, and so is your family,” Frankie grins. “Your dad is gonna have plenty of opportunities to contemplate throwing me off his boat and into the lake.”

You giggle as he kisses you again before trailing his lips down to your neck. “Frankie,” you say his name warningly as he pushes you onto your back. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently, positioning himself on top of you. He plants his hands on either side of your head and dips his head, nipping lightly at the tender flesh over your pulse point. “How thin are these walls?”

“Francisco Morales, no, you are not fucking me in my parent’s house, not in my childhood bedroom—”

His bulge brushes against your thigh and you gasp.

“Guess I’ll head back to the guest room, then,” Frankie murmurs, feathering one last kiss onto your neck.

He starts to climb off of you and your hands shoot out, curling around fistfuls of his shirt to stop him.

“I can be quiet,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip. You take one of his hands and guide it underneath the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing to the apex of your thighs. “Can you?”

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, running a finger along the damp cotton of your panties. He slips it beneath the fabric, his blood rushing south when he meets your slick folds. “God, I fucking hope so, or else I’ll actually end up at the bottom of that fucking lake.”

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#fic: more hearts than mine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #Frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales drabble #frankie morales fluff #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

[polaroidpascal]

let me || frankie morales

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : frankie morales x f!reader

summary : after two weeks of frankie coming home knocking on death’s door from exhaustion, you decide to give him a break.

tags : fluff !!, no use of y/n, you taking care of frankie, very small nods to sex, undressing, showering together, cuddling, short and sweet glimpse into domestic life with frankie 🥹

WC : ~1.8k

a/n : i’ve never written pure fluff before, but the frankie brainrot has reached an all-time high and i desperately need to take care of this man. hope you like this little slice of domestic life with frankie 🫶 (not beta read or proofread much, just psa!)

You’re cozied up on your recliner reading a book in the soft light from your lamp when Frankie finally comes home from work.

He opens the door gently, tiredly. He never knows if you’re going to be asleep or not, so he errs on the side of caution just in case. Plus, he’s too exhausted to make more noise anyway.

You watch him from the corner as he sets down his keys. They clink against the ceramic dish that he made for you forever ago after you had moved in together. He sets down his backpack opting to unpack it tomorrow and hangs up his hat, running his hand and fingers through his curls with a long, tired sigh before he kicks off his boots.

He turns around to see you in your pajamas wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, book in hand, the lamp illuminating you from behind like an angel descending from heaven.

No amount of exhaustion can keep the tired smile from blooming across his face. “Hey, baby,” he says, his hand now rubbing the back of his neck to soothe the sore muscles there.

“Hi, love,” you say back sweetly. “How was work?”

He answers with another sigh and tired eyes, his smile fading just a bit remembering the absolutely packed couple of weeks he’s had. “It was alright, just tired.”

Frankie has come home beyond exhausted every day for the past two weeks. The first few nights, you were already asleep by the time he came home, unable to keep your eyes open any longer to wait for him. You had sent him a text telling him to wake you up when he got home, but of course your sweet boyfriend would never do that, not when you look so peaceful in your sleep.

One night, you happened to be awake when he came home, much to his surprise. He tried to play off how drained he was, bringing you in for a hug that swallowed you whole in his broad figure, whisking you off to your bedroom to try and ignore his exhaustion. But you could see it in his eyes from the moment he walked in that he was barely hanging on, and he definitely slept hard that night.

After that, you made sure you were up every night long enough to catch him walking through the door, picking up a new novel series to pass the time while you waited.

You rise from the recliner and shuffle over to Frankie in your fuzzy socks and his t-shirt loosely fitting your frame, the wide neckline exposing your collarbones. “You look tired, Frankie. And I’m not saying that in a mean way.”

He takes you in his arms and kisses the top of your head breathing another sigh, like he’s relearning how to breathe after being so busy all day. “I know, baby.”

You stay wrapped in each other's arms for a minute, Frankie’s head resting atop your own. His dead weight grows each second that passes and you let him stay until you can’t hold him up anymore. You rub and pat his back gently before you whisper, “Why don’t we go take a shower, hm?” looking up when he lifts his head again.

He looks back at you with his big, brown, pouty eyes and mumbles, “But you’re already in your pajamas…”

“I know,” you nod, reaching your hand up to cup his cheek and glancing across his face at his tired and beautiful features. “You’re always taking care of me. Can you let me take care of you this time?”

His eyes are still pouting and nearly half closed now as he pauses, then gently nods, letting you lead him to your bedroom.

He stands in the middle of the room reaching down to the hem of his shirt to undress but your hands stop him. He looks at you confused.

“Let me,” you say. He has no protests.

He watches you lift his shirt exposing his stomach and chest, raising his arms so you can slip it over his head. You toss it to the side while Frankie reaches down to take his socks off. Your hands move down to his belt, slipping it out of the loops of his jeans. It clinks to the floor and you unbutton his pants, slipping them down with his underwear. He watches you the whole time, stepping out when you reach the bottom before you stand up again.

When you meet his gaze, the love radiating from his eyes almost makes your heart burst from your chest. You smile gently at him, reaching up to give him a soft kiss before leading him to the shower.

You run the water warm, more on the hot side, and start to undress yourself. Frankie watches you strip, the way your shoulder blades move as you pull your shirt over your head and unhook your bra. The way your spine flexes as you reach down to pull your pants off and shimmy out of them. How angelically perfect the curves of your body look.

You turn around to look at him and see tears welling in his eyes.

Immediately, your heart drops and you rush to cup his face in your hands. “Oh, Frankie, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing, I just…” He looks your face up and down examining all the features he finds so beautiful and takes a breath. “I love you so much,” he says, the end of his sentence getting quiet, tapering off choked in emotion.

You stare at the gorgeous boy in front of you, exhausted from his hard work, so full of emotion that he’s brought to tears, and you feel your own eyes start to sting. All you can do is hug him and bury your face into his chest, his warm, soft skin pressed against you as your arms clasp around him. “I love you too, Frankie.”

You feel his breath get a little quicker as he tries to keep himself in check, the fight against his tears getting harder and harder. You pull back and wipe away a few strays that started rolling down his cheeks before pulling him into the shower.

You wash Frankie head to toe helping him clean the day off. He leans down some so you can wash his hair, making sure to give his scalp a little massage while you suds up his curls. His eyes close and he softly hums as your fingers card through each strand. He loves when you play with his hair.

You gently wash his back, watching the soap slowly roll down his body as you rub circles into his skin. The muscles look tight, flexing some just with the slow breaths he’s taking. You reach up and dig your thumbs into the visible knots you see near the base of his neck where he was rubbing before. His head drops forward a bit, a soft groan leaving his lips at the relief.

You turn him around and wash his chest, watching the soapy water cascade down his pecs and stomach.

He watches you as best he can, wanting to savor every second, and he can’t help but close his eyes at the soothing feeling of the warm water flowing across his skin… the soap erasing the dirt from the day… and most importantly of all, your feather-light, loving touch behind every movement.

You rinse his chest a little and give him a soft kiss to his sternum, handing him the sponge to wash the rest of his body while you wash your own.

He silently watches you move, feeling himself get emotional again thinking about how lucky he feels to have you. That you’d do this for him. That you care so much about him. The love in his heart threatens to burst at the seams.

When you’re both done, Frankie grabs your hips and carefully spins you around before leaning down for a kiss. A kiss that’s worth a million words all condensed into one little action. A kiss that screams I love you, endlessly and eternally.

You stay under the shower head, lips locked with the silent words of affection being exchanged. You only think to get out when you feel the water starting to run cold.

When you get out, you loosely wrap a towel around yourself before grabbing another to dry off Frankie. You rub his hair and his face, draping it around his shoulders and tip-toeing up to kiss his nose before you finish drying yourself off.

You slip back into your pajamas and Frankie puts on his sweatpants before you both climb into bed together. Frankie immediately plops down on his side of the bed, lying on his back and draping his arms over his eyes as he sighs deep, finally comfortable after the long, long day he’s had.

He feels you crawl into bed with him, your weight shifting the mattress around him as you climb on top of him, legs straddled over his sides.

He moves his arms to look up at you staring at his chest tracing circles onto his skin. His hands rest on the tops of your thighs and he rests his head back on his pillow, but you swear you can feel his entire energy shift.

“You okay?” you ask, resting your palms on his skin.

“I…” he starts, looking up at you with sad eyes. “I love you so much, you know that… I’m just… I’m really tired, baby. I don’t know if I can—“

“Frankie,” you cut him off. “I’m not in the mood either.”

He looks at you with his pouty doe eyes again. “You’re not?”

“No,” you assure him. “I just wanted to look at you. How pretty you are. How lucky I am to have you.”

Frankie’s chest gets tight, the tears stinging in his eyes again as he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve someone like you. Who loves him unconditionally. Who takes care of him so tenderly. Who is straddled on top of him just because she wants to look at him.

Before you can catch his eyes getting redder, he pulls you down to lay by his side, cradling you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. “It’s me who’s lucky to have you, amor.”

You hum and settle into his embrace, inhaling his clean scent and relaxing against his soft skin. Just as you’re starting to drift off, you hear a faint mumble, “Thank you.”

And you don’t even need to respond. You just press your body closer somehow, planting a kiss to his chin before nuzzling into his neck.

And it’s the only answer Frankie needs.

#francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Grays II

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays - Part I | Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, matchmaking elements, meddlesome mother, lots of teasing, not-quite-friends to lovers dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, oral sex (F and M receiving), protected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 8.5k

Notes: It's here - 4 months later! First of all, thank you so much for the love for Grays Part I. I still can't quite believe the reaction to Frankie and Shiv, you guys sure know how to make a writer feel special 🥰 This one was so much fun to write, and nervous as I am posting this follow-up, I'm telling myself to let go of my insecurities and just enjoy it because that's what it's all about. I hope y'all will have a good time at this wedding with the gang 😘

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man. 

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots. 

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

He glares at himself in the mirror. He can’t put his finger on it, it just doesn’t look like how you did it. He’s already washed it out and started over twice, and for a second, he considers driving to your salon. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s far too late for that now.

Leaning over the sink, he says to his reflection, ‘Focus, pendejo. You can do it.’

He’s a pilot for fuck’s sake. He’s a man of procedure, he can follow steps. He just needs to break it down.

Hair half-dry - check.

Hair mousse applied - check.

Now he just needs to dry his hair all the way and style it - but the how is where it gets hazy. 

Frankie closes his eyes and casts his mind back to your salon. He’s sitting in the chair and you’re standing behind him. He wills himself to recall what you were doing with your hands, but all he remembers is the scrape of your of your fingertips on his scalp, the ghost of your breath on the back of his neck, and then -

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

He scrubs a frustrated palm down his face when his cock twitches in his haphazardly ironed dress pants, not for the first time… hell, not even the fourth time since he left your salon on Wednesday afternoon.

‘Goddamnit,’ he bites out, dropping the hairdryer with a clunk and grips the porcelain sink. He needs to calm the fuck down. 

He didn’t ask for - this, whatever this is. You’re you. You’re Shiv. The loudmouth with the wild hair he’s known since fifth grade. The fourth wheel at guys’ drinks when Will can’t make it. A relentless tease on a good day, and downright insufferable when you get enough tequila in you.

And quite possibly, the only person who’s ever driven him to the brink of unconsciousness with just the touch of their bare hands.

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe you’re right. It has been a while since he’s been with a woman. He just needs to get laid at the wedding, get this weird tension out of his system. And then hopefully, he’ll be able to go to sleep without being kept up by you telling him to go harder, deeper -

By the time he gets his head out of his ass, it’s too late for second-guessing. He rakes his fingers through his hair, sets it with hairspray, and quickly rubs the beard oil he bought in town yesterday into his whiskers. He takes a moment to look himself over while he clumsily does up the tie he borrowed from Pope.

This is as good as it’s gonna get.

He’s the designated driver tonight. By some miracle, he’s only five minutes late when he cruises into Pope’s driveway, where all three of the boys are waiting and sipping on beers.

‘Damn Fish, you look good,’ crows Santi as he climbs into the passenger seat, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You should get your hair cut at Shiv’s from now on.’

‘Only if you keep paying for it,’ retorts Frankie while he backs out of the driveway. He pauses as he changes gears, and adds in a grumble. ‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Pope barks in laughter, twisting in his seat to give Benny a knowing grin. ‘Someone had to, you caveman.’

The younger Miller brother ribs good-naturedly, ‘You ready for some action tonight, Fish? I brought some extra rubbers just in case.’

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

The car erupts with playful jeers, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile as he palms the steering wheel.

‘That’s some fighting talk, Fish!’ goads Santi, punching him on the arm.

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Benny grins. ‘Ok, I see how it is. Let’s make it interesting, Fish. Whoever picks up a one night stand first wins a hundred bucks.’

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

Benny chuckles and clasps his shoulder. ‘You’re on, man.’

It’s eight on the dot when you lock up the salon. While you did RSVP for wedding drinks - opting out of the sit-down dinner earlier in the evening - you hadn’t planned on actually going. But it seems like the whole town did, you’ve barely had two customers walk through the door all afternoon. 

So you let Ashton go home early, and after a quick snack, you take your time getting ready. Might as well have a Saturday night out - your first in many months.

The hotel is just a short Uber ride away. When you climb out of the car, you bite your bottom lip at the unfamiliar tension humming under your skin.

Nerves.

You’re nervous.

And worse, you know exactly what you’re nervous about. 

Or more precisely - who.

‘Pull it together, Shiv,’ you mutter under your breath. Steeling yourself, you stride into the hotel.

From his vantage point at the bar, Benny watches in amusement as Frankie glances towards the doors of the reception hall yet again. He doubts the pilot even knows he’s doing it, or at the very least, he doesn’t think that anyone would notice.

Grabbing his beer, Benny sidles up to his friend. ‘Looking for something, Fish?’

Frankie takes a sip of his Coke and feigns nonchalance. ‘Yeah, looking to win that hundred bucks from you.’

‘Dunno ‘bout that. I don’t see you trying very hard.’

‘Biding my time, Miller. Just make sure you have enough cash to -’ 

When Frankie breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Benny doesn’t need to look to wager a guess what caught his attention.

Turning around as you approach, he flings his arms out to give you a hug, eyeing you up and down appreciatively. ‘Babe, look at you all dressed up! Doesn’t she look nice, Fish?’

In lieu of an answer, Frankie stares intently at some invisible spot over your shoulder until Benny elbows him right in his stomach, jerking him out of his trance. ‘Fish?’

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t know if I look nice?’

Benny has to stopper his mouth with beer so he doesn’t laugh out loud at the panic on Frankie’s face as he fumbles for a response. ‘I mean. Um, nice… pants?’

‘It’s a jumpsuit, Morales. Try to keep up,’ you reply and take two steps towards him, which has him backpedalling so fast that he upsets the table behind him, sending half-empty glasses spilling wine all over the white tablecloth.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he growls at you like a cornered stray.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull him upright by his tie. ‘Is he ok, Ben? He’s even jumpier than usual.’

‘Well, it’s a funny night for him. Watching his ex get married and all.’

‘I swear to God, Benjamin Miller, if you don’t shut the fuck up -’ 

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Smoothing the lapels of his slightly crumpled suit jacket, you probe, ‘You’ve been using shampoo and conditioner like I asked?’

Frankie huffs a dry laugh. ‘I don’t remember you asking.’

‘Someone’s mouthy tonight,’ you tease. ‘And the beard oil?’

He concedes with a sigh. ‘Yes, Shiv.’

‘You look good, Francisco,’ you grin and reach up to push his curls back from his eyes.

He looks away as he admits, ‘Took three fucking tries.’

At least he holds still when you make small adjustments to his hair, shoulders stiff with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You catch yourself missing the way he leaned into your touch in your salon, and you have to forcefully push that thought away as you push your fingers through the roots to boost the volume. His curls feel softer already than you remember them, with a noticeably healthier sheen. 

After a final rustle to loosen up his fringe, you wink at him. ‘Mark my words, the bride will rue the day she dumped your ass when she sees you.’

A voice from behind you interrupts. ‘It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?’

Trading a look with Frankie, who gives you a sarcastic thumbs up, you put on a smile and turn on your heels. ‘Mrs. Morales, it’s been too long!’

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

Frankie’s taunt is so quiet that you nearly miss it. ‘Told you she’d come after you.’

Without skipping a beat, you elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his pained oomph from behind you. ‘You look wonderful tonight, ma’am.’ 

‘You can’t sweet talk your way out of my question, young lady.’

You cross your arms with a sigh. ‘I didn’t dye it because he looks good with the grays.’ 

‘Well, I don’t think so.’

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

Frankie throws his hands up in exasperation. ‘Gee, thanks a lot ma.’

You turn to Benny, who has been silently watching you two spar. ‘What do you think, Miller?’

He dithers, eyes darting around in desperation until he spots Santi and his older brother coming back from the bar. ‘Look! Here are the guys, let’s ask them!’

‘Ask us what?’ asks Santi, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a glass of bubbly.

‘Do you think my son looks good with the grays?’

Your eyebrow twitches when Mrs. Morales carelessly ruffles his hair to emphasise her point. To your surprise, Frankie bats her away with an irritated ma!, before hastily rearranging it.

‘Your honest opinion, if you please,’ you add.

The boys hum and haw, sipping their beers and shooting uncertain looks between you and Mrs. Morales, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the middle. Upping the heat, you narrow your eyes at them, and Will folds first. 

‘Yeah, I mean - he looks good,’ he mumbles, avoiding the Morales matriarch's glare.

‘Pope?’ you prompt.

‘Cabrón rocking those grays,’ he nods supportively.

‘Ben?’

‘Uh huh,’ he replies vaguely, but at your menacing glare, clarifies, ‘Yes, I meant - yes, ma’am.’

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Ah, that’s the easy part. You look around, scanning the crowds - and bingo, you see a brunette staring openly from across the dance floor. You hold up a finger for dramatic effect. ‘Excuse me for one second.’

Frankie looks ready for the earth to swallow him whole by the time you return with the said woman in tow. Pointing straight at him, you ask, ‘Lucy, this is Frankie. Do you think he’s hot with the grays?’

To her credit, she’s a good sport, and plays along with a cheeky wink. ‘Yeah, he is. You wanna dance, handsome?’

‘Yes, he absolutely does!’ you answer quickly before he can get a word in.

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger. 

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

‘Have fun, Fish!’ calls out Pope impishly, which earns him an emphatic middle finger. 

You beam at Mrs. Morales smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done.’

‘You better keep it up, young lady,’ she says over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

Santi is minding his own business, sipping on his beer as he stakes out the ladies, when a hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck, man?!’ he bristles indignantly.

Frankie polishes off the drink in one mouthful, before slamming it onto the table and demanding, ‘Where’s Shiv? I’m done. I’m not fucking dancing with anyone else.’

Pope jerks his thumb to the other side of the room. ‘She’s arguing with your mother.’

Frankie flops into a chair, the dress shoes that he never wears are pinching his feet and he fights the urge to kick them off. He folds his arms across his chest petulantly, one palm over his mouth as his eyes wander across the hall to you, where you’re gesturing madly at his ma, embroiled in an impassioned discussion, probably still about his damn hair.

You’re all dressed up tonight, which is new to him - he’s only ever seen you in jeans when you go out drinking with them, and he’s certainly never seen so much of you. The ‘jumpsuit’ (he learns something new every day) is black and cut low both front and back, and fuck, all he sees is soft skin and the dip of your curves and red lipstick -

Pope must have nipped to the bar while he wasn’t looking, and a fresh bottle of beer appears under his nose. Glancing up at his best friend, Frankie mutters, ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

He chokes violently at the casual non-sequitur, spraying beer everywhere. ‘What the fuck, Pope.’

Santi beams. ‘You got that look on your face, man. I’ve seen that look before.’

‘I don’t have a look on my face.’

He chuckles, mostly to himself. 'Damn, I really should've seen this coming.'

‘What are you even on about -’ Looking up, Frankie spots you making your way over and panics. ‘Shut the fuck up, pendejo.’

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Santi chortles and takes his leave, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Fish.’

You sink into the empty seat next to him and he deliberately twists his body away from you, drinking deeply from his bottle to drown out Santi’s words ringing in his ears. 

‘So, I heard you have a bet going on with Benny. I want splitsies if you win.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, staring resolutely anywhere but at the swell of your cleavage. ‘No.’

‘40/60.’

‘Fuck off, Shiv.’

‘30/70?’ you counter-offer.

He sighs. ‘You’re impossible.’

Ignoring him, you jump up with a happy squeak when someone Frankie vaguely recognises as a girl who used to be in your class approaches with a shy smile. You pull her close by the crook of her arm and ask, ‘Morales, you remember Sadie?’

He tries not to scowl too openly as he too gets on his feet. ‘Sure, hi Sadie.’

Herding them towards the dancefloor, you grin, ‘Go dance, get reacquainted.’

As he passes by you, Frankie grits his teeth and curls his fingers into the meat of his palms to crush the urge to reach out and touch you. 

But it’s easier to fall into your well-rehearsed roles, to toe the line that has been drawn in the sand since you were teenagers. And easier is certainly the safer option when it comes to you.

So he throws you a deliberate glare over his shoulder, with a deadpanned, ‘I hate you.’

You blow him a kiss and grin wider.

Frankie can’t hold back a relieved sigh when the interminably long song finally ends, and the woman he’s dancing with - he won’t even pretend he remembers her name - tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket after tapping in her number. ‘Call me, gorgeous.’

He stopped counting after the eighth woman you shepherded his way. This is it. He’s not above hiding in the toilets if that’s what it takes to make this stop.

Except he’s not quick enough. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, marching straight towards him with a fresh glass of water and a look of purpose on your face.

He doesn’t exactly know what came over him. He could probably blame it on the one and a half beers that he downed, or being pushed to the end of his tether. Whatever it is, there’s something he has to say to you, and it can’t wait.

You push the glass into his grasp. ‘Here, hydrate.’

‘Shiv -’

You’ve already swivelled around, your focus somewhere else. ‘Where is she? She was literally just behind me -’

‘Shiv -’

‘Mind you, she’s a sweet girl, but clearly not the brightest tool in the -’

His patience snaps, and he barks, ‘Shiv!’

You spin around, brow furrowed in confusion, and snarl back, ‘What?’

Frankie pauses, and you blink as his warm eyes hold yours. On an exhale, he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

You’re vaguely aware that your jaw has gone slack, but only because his eyes follow the movement, dropping to your mouth. He considers you for a moment, head tipping just slightly to the side as he watches you. Then, satisfied that he has your attention, he brings the glass of water to his lips, throwing his head back as he drinks. 

Your breath catches in your throat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, before he leisurely swipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

In a perfectly mirrored imitation of what transpired between you earlier in the evening, he takes two measured steps forward, prompting you to back up against the table behind you. The tinkle of glasses falling over hardly registers in the back of your mind. 

The fabric of his suit is cool on your skin, brushing your bare arm as he looms over you, so broad and warm. Though his front barely makes contact, your peripheral vision gives and all you can see is him.

‘What are you doing?’ you croak the same words back at him, hating the way your voice shakes.

Frankie smiles - really smiles at you, with no colour of the usual irony or sarcasm. Warmth settles into the creases in the corners of his eyes as he holds up the empty glass. ‘Just putting my glass away,’ he says coolly, an edge of cockiness at your tragically obvious reaction to him.

You feel your cheeks heat up as he does just that - the back of his hand bumping into your forearm as he moves, the breadth of him pinning you against the table. He doesn’t pull away, clearly basking in the way the tables have well and truly turned -

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

Frankie squeezes his eyes shut in irritation at the voice behind him, nostrils flaring as he collects himself. A resigned smile tugs at his lips, and he tips forward, his words grazing your ear. ‘Catch you later, Shiv.’

You only let your knees buckle when he’s safely out of sight.

You’ve barely stepped back into the reception hall from a much needed bathroom break to clear your head when someone grabs you by the arm, tugging you onto the dancefloor.

‘Benny!’ You reprimand, stumbling over your feet. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Relax, Shiv. Frankie can survive on his own for a second.’

‘You’re just jealous that he’s hogging all the ladies’ attention.’

He scoffs, palms on your waist as he sways to the music. ‘He has an unfair advantage, ok? How do I compete with the bride’s ex?’

Clasping your hands around Benny’s neck, you catch Frankie’s eye over his shoulder. You wink at him casually, having somewhat recovered your bravado - it’s easier to pretend from a distance anyway. He rolls his eyes at you over Jan’s head, but he doesn’t look away, watching you with a hint of something you can’t quite make out.

Glancing up at Benny, you ask a tad bashfully, ‘I know we give Frankie a hard time about all this, but is he - ok?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

You hesitate. ‘Well, we’re not exactly that kind of friends.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the kind who sit around having heart-to-hearts and painting their nails.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of friends are you, then?’ 

‘I don’t know, he probably doesn’t even count me as one,’ you admit. ‘He barely tolerates me on a good day.’

Benny shoots you a cryptic look, but before you can quiz him on it, he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Can I swing by the salon tomorrow morning? I have a promotional shoot at half past eleven.’

‘As long as you bring donuts and coffee.’

He twirls you around. ‘Deal.’

Frankie slinks out of the hotel, somehow managing to dodge both you and his mother on his way out, which he takes as a win.

It’s cold outside. He inhales deeply and feels it burn down his throat. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches his breath mist in front of his face, savouring the quiet.

‘Hey.’

His shoulders stiffen. He knows he should’ve been the bigger man. Should’ve sought her out first, to congratulate her.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

When he turns around eventually, she smiles brightly at him, her engagement ring catching the lights.

Closing the space between them, he presses a kiss to her cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you came. Your mum too - it was a long way to travel.’

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

‘How are you?’ she presses on, always one for polite conversation. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

Frankie shrugs but doesn’t answer.

‘Just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean I want you to be happy.’

He nods slowly. ‘I appreciate that.’

She points behind her. ‘Well, I should go back inside.’

‘Of course. I’m happy for you,’ he says. And he means it.

The hotel doors swing open, and Frankie looks up at the sharp clack of heels on the concrete. You pause at the sight of them by the curb.

‘Are you leaving, Shiv?’ the bride laments as you walk over to give her a hug.

‘I am, I’m afraid, gotta open up shop early tomorrow,’ you pull back. ‘Come by the salon any time, my treat.’

Once the bride is out of earshot, you turn to Frankie, hands on hips. ‘Alright, no more shirking, Morales. Get your ass back in there, your mother is on my case again.’

He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh no, I’m not going back in there without you.’

You sigh dramatically. ‘Am I the only one in this town who’s not scared of your mother?’

‘You should be,’ he snorts, then nods towards the parking lot. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

Taken aback by his offer, you hesitate. ‘Um - I thought you were the designated driver for the guys tonight.’

He brushes off your concerns with an easy shrug. ‘I’ll come back to get them after I drop you off.’ 

Typical Frankie - he walks off without even glancing back to see if you’re coming with him.

You smile to yourself and follow.

You must be drunker than you realised, because you’re staring. Again. For what must be the fifth time in the ten-minute drive.

It’s a lot of staring, even for you.

His jacket lies abandoned in the backseat, his tie jostled loose and the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, sleeves bunched up to his elbows. You watch from the corner of your eye as his left hand grips the top of the steering wheel steady, fingers flexing every now and then on straight stretches of road.

As if you’re not already discreetly squeezing your thighs together, he’s also rubbing his right palm idly on his leg, the innocent rustle of fabric against skin getting you far too hot and bothered under the metaphorical collar. 

And then - your eyes trail higher - settling on the heavy bulge at the top of his spread thighs.

Fuck. You’re definitely drunk.

You mull silently to yourself that you actually prefer him in his beat-up jeans and threadbare t-shirts before catching yourself. You weren’t aware you had any preferences when it comes to Frankie Morales. And you have no business doing so.

Clearing your throat, you break the tense silence. Well, tense for you, anyway. He seems completely oblivious to your inner strife.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win the bet.’

His lips quirk, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

‘I had another five girls lined up for you, you know.’

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

You reach over to punch him on the arm playfully. ‘C’mon, you know you enjoyed the attention, Morales.’

‘You don’t know me very well, do you?’ he peers at you.

You make a face of disbelief. ‘If you hated it that much, why did you go along with it?’

Cruising into your street, his truck rolls to a smooth stop outside your salon. Frankie kills the ignition, then turns towards you. His answer is simple, and hits you right between the ribs. 

‘Because you wanted me to.’

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

It would be simpler to pretend you didn’t understand what he means. To brush off this pull between you as a champagne-induced episode that you could sleep off. If you did, you could still show up at Tuesday nights drinks next week as if nothing has changed, and carry on.

It would be simpler. So you ask -

‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap?’

Frankie follows two steps behind you as you grapple with the keys on the doorstep. Once inside, the salon is quiet, and you strategically turn on the lights by the backwash, the semi-darkness making it more homey than it would have been if fully lit up. 

‘I would invite you upstairs -’ you pause and add hastily, ‘I don’t mean upstairs like, upstairs in that way - it’s just that my apartment is tiny, and the backwash is the closest thing I have to a couch. Are you okay with beer?’

‘Beer’s good, thanks,’ he answers. ‘Need a hand?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Oh god, please no - it’s a disaster upstairs. I’ll be right back.’

The rickety stairs creak loudly under your heels, and once you let yourself into your studio, you fall back heavily on the door, taking a second to catch your breath.

You invited him inside. 

He said yes.

You leap into action, shoving all your dirty laundry into the already full hamper. You try not to think too hard about why you’re cleaning up, you just hope you’re not making too much of a ruckus while you’re at it - because you have a boy waiting for you downstairs. 

Francisco Morales, of all people.

Despite having been in each other’s lives since high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve never been alone with him. Not even once. There’s always a buffer with Pope on his side, Benny on yours, and Will in the middle. And while some find Frankie hard to read, you’ve always known exactly how to act around him. You have an unwritten playbook - you bait him with cheap jokes, more often than not joining forces with Benny to gang up on him. He rolls his eyes and snaps at you to shut up. It’s the longest running show in town.

But this? Alone, after his ex’s wedding, in your salon? You’re going off-script and off-piste. Dangerous enough on a good day; outright stupid after a night of drinking.

Frankie is quick to help when you reappear, armed with beer and a bag of ice, using the backwash sink as a makeshift cooler. Your shoes clatter onto the floor as you settle in the chair next to his. Hugging your knees, you hold out your bottle, which he clinks with his.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ you ask, rather mundanely.

‘As much fun as one is expected to have at an ex’s wedding,’ he answers with a sardonic smile. Taking a sip of beer, he adds, ‘Gotta admit, you winding up my ma pretty much made up for it.’

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

You startle when Frankie chokes on his beer, his eyes visibly watering as he thumps a fist on his chest. When you ask if he’s ok, he won’t meet your gaze, downing more of his beer.

Not thinking anything of it, you move on. ‘You know, she sent a bunch of customers my way when I first opened up the salon.’

His voice is still a bit tight from his coughing fit. ‘And I’m sure she’ll deny it till the day she dies.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ you admit. ‘I can’t decide if she hates me or not.’

‘She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand you.’

You hum, unconvinced.

He nudges your knee with his. ‘She was really proud of you when you opened the salon, you know.’

You toss him a sidelong glance. ‘You talk to your mum about me?’

He’s ambiguous in his answer. ‘She asks after you sometimes.’

‘And how would you have anything to say to her? We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’

Frankie concedes with a wry smile, ‘Benny talks.’

‘Ha!’ you laugh, echoing his words from a few days ago back at him. ‘Benjamin fucking Miller.’

He goes quiet for a second, looking around your salon as if taking stock. ‘It’s pretty amazing that you’ve built all this.’

The unexpected compliment catches you blindsided. You reply diplomatically, ‘Ashton helps me loads.’

Frankie’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. ‘Are you going humble on me now? What have you done to Shiv?’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble good-naturedly, adding, ‘Ben tells me you’re doing really well yourself.’

‘Yeah. I got promoted at work last month, and I’m saving up for a house,’ he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Things are looking up.’

‘You’re actually acknowledging your achievements?’ you gasp in mock outrage. ‘What have you done to Francisco Morales?’

With a shrug, he leans forward to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he sways even closer, one palm landing on the leather of your seat next to your knee, eyes darting to your lips. His voice is deep as he rasps, ‘Can I kiss you?’

It would be so easy to say yes, but when have you ever made things easy for yourself? 

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

Frankie looks amused, like he expected this from you. Slowly, not wanting to spook you, he gently plucks the beer that you’ve barely drunk from your grasp.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

He leans in close. 

You stop breathing.

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

Closer still.

Your lungs ache.

‘And because when you told me to go harder, deeper - I nearly lost my fucking mind.’

He’s hovering over you now, and you can almost taste the bitter sweetness of the beer on his breath. He smirks at you, but there’s only warmth and mischief in it when he teases, ‘Speechless for once?’

‘Shut up, Morales,’ you breathe and grab him by the collar of his shirt.

And then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing Frankie, and he’s kissing you back.

It’s messy, and disorientating, and you clumsily fumble over each other until he’s sitting up in one of the chairs, with your thighs on either side of his narrow hips as you straddle him. He’s licking up into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your sides almost painfully hard.

‘Is this really happening?’ you garble into his lips, ripping off his tie and undoing his shirt buttons as fast as your shaking fingers allow you to.

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

He kisses you wet and insistent, but he doesn’t push you, waiting for you to make up your mind. Reaching behind you, you tug on the tie that holds your jumpsuit together with a decisive pull, letting the fabric ripple down your bare front and pool around your waist.

Frankie bites his bottom lip so hard it goes white. ‘Fuck,’ he cusses, his grip on your hips twitching as he stares at your tits. ‘Can I, please -?’

‘Touch me, Francisco.’

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

This being the way Frankie effortlessly tosses you onto the mattress, his arms flexing with an easy strength that goes straight to your head, as you stare giddily up at him.

His hair - your handiwork - has been well and truly undone, errant strands falling over his eyes as he watches you, his broad frame looming over the foot of the bed. He pulls at his belt, which falls open with a careless clink, and he makes quick work of his now crumpled trousers, kicking them off impatiently.

Your head is swimming, yet somehow, you muster the strength to shuffle towards the edge of the bed, rearranging yourself to sit on your haunches, knees folded neatly beneath you. Boldly, you reach out to slide his dark boxers down his hips, and they fall around his knees and onto the floor. His cock springs free, half-hard and heavy, and Frankie swallows thickly as you tilt your face towards him.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

His eyes close as if he’s in pain, nostrils flaring at your words. Taking advantage of his distraction, you wrap one careful hand around his length, and he jerks violently at the first velvety slide of your palm against him. 

‘Fuck, Shiv -’ he chokes, eyes flying open at the contact, pupils completely blown. He protests weakly, ‘No, stop, need to get you off first -’

You shoot him a lopsided smile, pumping him slowly, your pulse racing at the way you feel him swell in your grasp. ‘Can we not argue this one time?’

You lean forward and, holding his gaze, flatten your tongue and lick your way up the underside of his cock. His breath stutters, one big hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his eyes wide and almost frantic as you press open-mouthed kisses on his sensitive flesh.

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

His size is obvious by sight, but you really feel it in the pressure bearing down on the hinge of your jaw as you sink down on his cock, fighting to squeeze the girth of him into your mouth. The guttural groan from Frankie makes your pussy clench, and he tastes like he looks - clean, and all man. 

There’s no way you can take all of him, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. He’s hot under your touch, muscles pulled taut with tension that you can feel thrumming under his skin as you take your time with him. Focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, you bob patiently up and down on him, slicking up his length with your spit, working him slightly deeper with every stroke - until you’re so full of him that you gag, hard.

Frankie is slack-jawed when you release him with an obscenely wet pop, spit trailing from your lips to the swollen tip of his cock, eyes wild as swipes his thumb across your puffy bottom lip. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he declares, almost solemnly.

Slinking down his front, one hand securely around the base of his cock, you take him between your lips again, moaning at the salty taste of his precum, which makes him quake above you. As you swallow his length and pump your fist in tandem, your spit wetting your fingers, you peer up at him through your lashes - nothing could’ve prepared you for the utter wreckage that you find on his face. 

His lips are pulled back, baring his tidy teeth into a snarl as he very clearly struggles to hold himself back from fucking your mouth. You feel every bump and vein in his cock with each descent, the wet squelches filling in the gaps of his low grunts and moans. His grip in your hair stings as he starts panting in earnest above you, and somehow he gets even harder on your tongue, making it harder to breathe - 

‘Stop, stop,’ he wheezes suddenly, pulling back in a hasty retreat that has you whining at the sudden loss of him. ‘C’mere.’

He practically hauls you up against him, kissing you deeply, delving into your mouth to taste the bitterness of himself on your tongue. The world tilts on its axis when he tips you back onto the bed, and holding himself above you, he peels the jumpsuit off, leaving you in just your panties.

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

‘Fuck, yes, Frankie, please,’ you beg.

There’s no shyness when he pushes your legs up and apart, and instead of taking your panties off, he hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pulls it to the side, his eyes darkening as he stares down at you.

‘So pretty,’ he praises you lowly. Holding your breath as he sinks onto his front, you breathe heavily in anticipation as his shoulders slot neatly underneath your legs. ‘Look at how wet you are for me. All this from sucking my cock?’

You nod frantically. ‘Frankie -’

Straight to the point as always, he ducks his dark head and drags the broad of his tongue over your clit - and you’re gone.

Admittedly, you have not had the best experiences with your exes. There was always too much gratuitous moaning and too little finesse, and afterwards, they always act like they deserve a medal for failing to get you off. But even if your past lovers had been more adequate in the field, you’re sure it still wouldn’t have prepared you for this. 

Frankie goes about it with a quiet focus that veers on reverential, the intensity in his dark eyes watching you makes your knees weak. He’s obviously picking up signs and reactions from you and adjusting his game plan accordingly, the pilot in him clearly in the driver’s seat. 

Not that he’s silent - far from it, you feel the reverberation in your core with every satisfied  hum deep in his chest, and the occasional, muttered fuck, so wet, want more in between licks and groans. But there’s nothing performative or showy about it, just a forthright competency that has you hurtling towards a toe-curling orgasm.

‘Frankie,’ you whine when you feel it about to hit. ‘Frankie Frankie Frankie -’

‘Eyes on me,’ he slurs against your sopping folds, and you listen - for once - watching him watch you fall apart on his tongue, thrashing in his hold as he grips you harder to keep you in place while he laps you up, until the burn of his patchy beard on your inner thighs makes you arch away from him from overstimulation.

Your pussy is still fluttering when he sinks two thick fingers into you, and he hisses at the way it clenches around him as he fucks you, leaving his digits slicked and slippery.

‘So tight, baby,’ he declares through gritted teeth, working you open for him. ‘Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock.’

You point towards the nightstand. ‘First drawer,’ you pant.

Needing no further prompting, Frankie yanks your panties off and flings the soaked scrap of fabric over his shoulder, then lunges at the cupboard where the condoms are. You scrape your nails over his thighs as he kneels over you, his usually steady hands visibly trembling as he tears into the wrapper and rolls the rubber over his heavy cock. He watches you with hooded eyes and settles between your legs, kissing you desperately as the swollen tip of him nudges at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, nose skimming yours sweetly.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. ‘Fuck me, Frankie.’

The first push is a tight squeeze, and you can’t help the wince at the slight pinch as he sinks into you slowly. With a grunt of effort, he buries face into the slope of your neck and breathes, ‘Fuuuuck. You ok?’

‘Give me a second,’ you gasp, feeling your walls throb tightly around his length. ‘You’re so big, Frankie.’

He tangles his tongue with yours lazily in a deep kiss, before brushing his way down your throat and sucking on one nipple, making you cry out. He murmurs against your skin, ‘I know, but you’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Shifting your hips, Frankie groans when you slide him in deeper, the friction making you quiver beneath him. ‘Move, Frankie, please.’

He starts carefully, his strokes measured and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him as he draws back then sinks back in, exhaling shakily. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

‘Harder,’ you demand when you feel your pussy relax around him. ‘Fuck me harder.’

‘Shit,’ he growls and snaps his hips, drawing a squeal from you as he hits somewhere deep inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, bracing yourself as he drives into you again and again and again, the bedframe hitting the wall with each thrust.

‘So good, Frankie,’ you plead in between hard pants. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop -’

Looking up at him, you admire the way his hair falls over his eyes, swaying with his movement. Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

As wrecked as you are on his cock, you smile at his confession and slide your hands languidly in his locks, dragging your nails on his scalp, your chest swelling with pride when you watch his face - dazed and completely wrecked - fucking you so hard that you’re sure the bed is about to break.

When he finds his voice again, it’s your real name that slips past his lips. ‘Gonna cum so hard, oh fuck - I’m gonna -’

Frankie’s thrusting frantically into you, eyes screwed shut until his hips stutter and then - after one perfect moment of stillness suspended in time - shudder after shudder thunder through his body, your name a broken record as he spills into the condom, his scratchy baritone moaning into your neck as the frenzied energy bleeds out of him.

His weight pins you to the bed as he catches his breath, and you play with his curls gently, basking in the rumbling purr in his chest as you run the strands between your fingers. Eventually, gathering himself, he rolls off you to let you breathe, tying the condom neatly and tossing it into the trash can.

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

You laugh, which makes him grin. One strong arm reaches out to tuck you into his side, securely beneath the duvet. You hum at the tickle of his beard on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

Right on the cusp of sleep, you sass, ‘Guess you’ll have to split the winnings with me after all.’

Any other day, you would’ve woken up if you heard someone on the stairwell. Hell, you’d hear if they were knocking on the salon door downstairs.

When you’re rudely shaken awake by frantic knocking on the studio door, you realise it’s because your hearing has been impaired by the side of a very warm body smooshed into your ear.

‘Shiv! Open up! I need to leave in fifteen minutes for my photoshoot!’

‘Shit,’ you croak, throat dry, limbs flailing as you try to sit up. ‘I forgot about Benny.’

‘Fuck him’, grouses Frankie, pulling you back into his arms, eyes still closed.

‘I can’t, I promised to help him with his hair. Fuck, do we need to hide you, or -’

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Frankie lets you go with a grumbled Benjamin fucking Miller under his breath, but he visibly perks up when you stumble out of bed naked.

You half-jokingly shield your boobs from his view. ‘Are you perving on me, Morales?’

He smirks, leaning back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head while he eyes you appreciatively. It’s not fair how his triceps flex deliciously with the movement. ‘Why bother covering up? I’ve seen everything already.’

Trying - and failing - to shoot him a stern scowl, you pull on a robe and yank the door open, nearly careening backwards at the sight of Benny’s grinning face right in the doorway. 

‘Since when did you bang paying customers?’ he demands in lieu of a good morning.

You roll your eyes and usher him downstairs. ‘He’s not a paying customer. He’s on Pope’s tab.’

Benny flops into his usual chair, making it squeak, one eyebrow up as he does the air quotes. ‘Well, I guess we now know what kind of friends you guys are.’

‘Shut up, Miller,’ you gripe, but your mouth twists into a grin, giving you away as you set up.

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

You point your styling scissors at him menacingly. ‘Shut up, or I won’t be held responsible if my hands slip by accident.’

Benny feeds you a sugar donut while you work quickly, trimming the ends before styling it, going for a tousled bed head look. You hear the water pipes run upstairs and the carpeted floors creak when Frankie gets up. Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

Frankie loiters behind you for a second, scratching the back of his neck, before pulling you to one side. Not that it affords you much privacy anyway, with Benny wriggling his eyebrows impertinently at the two of you in the mirror.

‘I - uh -,’ he starts haltingly, one hand rubbing at the silver patch in his beard sheepishly. ‘I had a really good time last night.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ you smile.

His voice dipping lower, he asks, ‘Can I take you out to dinner sometime?’

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

‘She’ll get to you when she gets to you, Benjamin,’ snaps Frankie, one hand on his hip and the other pointing a stern finger at him.

Something about him being so assertive sends heat running up and down your spine. Stepping into his space - beaming when he doesn’t back away - you smooth a palm over the front of his shirt, unintentionally catching the rabbiting of his heart underneath.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug nonchalantly. ‘Do you intend to come back as a cash-paying customer?’

His eyes flash with want, one hand closing around your hip and he leans down to let his heated words brush by your ear. ‘Not if I can keep paying in other ways.’

Reaching up, you run a hand through his curls, preening at the way he closes his eyes at your touch. ‘Alright then, take me to dinner, Francisco.’

Peering around you, Frankie barks, ‘Miller, I’m cashing in on our bet.’

‘Fuck’s sake. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,’ he gripes, digging into his wallet reluctantly.

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head and playfully push him towards the door. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind!’

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

You’re not sure which makes your jaw drop - his cocksure declaration or the roguish confidence with which he walks out the door. In either case, Benny howls with laughter as you struggle to stay on your feet, your kneecaps having been rendered completely useless.

Just as Frankie climbs into his truck, Ashton whistles to a stop outside the salon on his wheels. Jaw dropping at the sight of the disheveled pilot nodding at him through the windscreen, he abandons his bike right on the curb and dashes into the salon, the door banging against the wall as he rushes in.

‘Excuse me - what the fuck did I just miss?’ he demands frantically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Calm down, Ashton, it’s not what it looks like -’

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

He breaks off with a yelp when you stuff a donut into his mouth to shut him up, sugar flying everywhere as Ashton picks you up and spins you around, squealing like a banshee the entire time.

‘You guys are the fucking worst,’ you laugh, out of breath by the time Ashton lets you go.

Glancing outside, where Frankie is still parked watching the whole embarrassing episode, he gives you one last wink and an amused grin before he pulls away from the curb.

In an almost exact repeat of the scene from a few days ago, Ashton joins you at the window, and the two of you watch, shoulder to shoulder, as Frankie smoothly steers his truck out of your street.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

You grin. You know you are - and luckily, it’s not a spot of bother that you’ll be in a hurry getting out of anytime soon.

Notes: I'm so excited to have finally completed this little two-shot. The two of them have been hanging out in my head all these months, it feels amazing to finally yeet this part into the world! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had as much fun as I did with these two 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️

Now that I've got you here, if you want more of Shiv, I wrote some silly little drabbles of her hair appointments with our handsome Pedro boys for a recent milestone celebration. There are also some fun thoughts that came out of an impromptu Grays sleepover we had last week 🤍

I'm sure we'll see more of Shiv and Frankie somewhere down the line. For now, thank you again, I love you all so much ❤️

#fuckyeahgrays2 #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales twoshot #frankie catfish morales fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie friday

[missgurrl]

Fic Recommendations

These are some of the fics that I've read that I have been left thinking about months after!

Please check these fics for trigger warnings and 18+ content at your discretion!

Joel Miller Wasteland, Baby! by "LittleR13" Plum by @thyme-in-a-bubble Letters and Sketches by "kay_erin" Never Let Me Down by "elmapache" The Wolf and the Moon by @misspearly1 Finders Keepers by @xokiwistarship Blue Jeans n Texas Dreams by @tightjeansjavi Cruel Summer by @proxima-writes

Din Djarin A Fresh Start by @theidiotwhowritesthings Ours by "tangerinefilm" Of Love and Time by @pentechics *Naboo Nuptial which is my own work

Frankie "Catfish" Morales No More by @albertasunrise Infernal Hearts by "honeymandos" In a Week by "notanotherquarantinefanfic" Near the Waters by "paisley_print" Green Mountain State by "pedro_djarin"

Javier Pena The Crush by @the-ginger-hedge-witch Not a Piece of Art by "notanotherquarantinefanfic" Maybe Today, Maybe Forever by @freedomatsea Learning to Live by @wheresarizona The Meeting Place by @absurdthirst, @wardenparker Just Dumb Enough to Try by "glitter_diety" You're my Best Friend by @autumnleaves1991-blog *Hoofprints which is my own work

*I couldn't find everyone's blogs, please let me know if I didn't tag you! And feel free to send your recs my way to add to the list.*

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian #pedro pascal fic #din djarin fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller age gap #narcos #the last of us #pedro pascal #din djarin x female reader #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena fluff #javier pena fic #javier pena age gap #javier pena series #javier peña x y/n #javier pena #javi pena #pedro pascal characters #fic rec #fanfic rec #joel miller smut #dbf! joel smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 12

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: Frankie and Andrea finally open up to each other. You anxiously wait to hear the conclusion.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: allusions to sex, but nothing explicit.

A/N: happy birthday, @thevoiceinyourheadx!! hope you have a lovely day and that you enjoy this little piece here hehe❤️

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

gif: @clonecaptains

series masterlist | AO3

At six p.m., Frankie was in the airport, waiting at the gate as he said he would. Restless, he looked around for Andrea for about twenty minutes, until he finally noticed her figure in the crowd.

As opposed to other times, the smiles they both revealed this time were merely polite. There was hesitance behind them, sadness, nothing like it used to be. They could both feel the tension and the questions that begged to be answered. Their moves were mechanic, their bodies acting solely on muscle memory as Frankie got her luggage, put it in the trunk of the car, opened the passenger’s door for her, and started to drive.

They didn’t exchange many words during the one hour ride. They both knew that once they set foot inside the apartment, once filled with delusional happy memories, everything will come crashing down around them.

They walk through the door, closing it behind them, and they simply stare at each other for what feels like an eternity.

“Do you want to empty your bag?” he asks her, voice hollow, yet heavy at the same time.

Andrea smiles bitterly at him. “No. Not yet.”

Her reply, though simple, informs Frankie of her intentions. She’s not staying, he realizes. This only raises more questions, but if there was ever a time for answers, it is now.

“I have to tell you something,” Frankie begins.

His throat is dry, each time he swallows feeling like sand on paper, but he powers through it.

“What is it?” Andrea asks.

Frankie pauses. The more he looks at Andrea, the more pain washes over him, crashing inside his chest and forbidding him from breathing properly. But he knows he mustn’t go on with this charade, this game of pretend.

In the long run, it’ll be better for all of you. Honesty will prevail, he tells himself over and over again.

“Oh, come on, out with it already,” Andrea rushes him sweetly.

“There’s… someone else. I’m—there’s someone in my life that I—“

Andrea’s face drops, though not by much. There’s not much shock legible on her face, nor anger or anything negative, really, which ticks Frankie off. It’s as if she was already intuiting the words that are crumbling Frankie’s whole being. She takes a big breath, deeply, pulling even further away from him and searching his face, barely even blinking. The answer lies right before her, but it also resides in the pit of her stomach. It’s not that far of a stretch, but she allows Frankie his freedom of speech still. She reckons it’s more important for him to get this out.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

And there they are. Some of the most dreadful and harmful words known to mankind. Yet, Andrea remains unfazed, continuously staring at Frankie. He can’t tell if she’s contemplating what she’s just heard, or if she’s expecting to hear more, so he continues.

“It’s not new. It’s not because of the break. It’s always been there, clawing at my chest, buried at the back of my head and now it’s—it’s only gotten worse. I can’t hide it anymore, I can’t keep doing this to you, to us… it’s not fair. And it’s not who I am. Or not who I thought I was. I’m really sorry, Andy, I really am.”

She can tell he’s in massive distress, but she needs a real, factual confirmation of her suspicions.

“Who are you referring to?”

The question, sharply posed, strikes Frankie as some sort of attempt to diminish his feelings and place the blame on him. The blame he can take, but he won’t have Andrea or anyone tell him that what he feels is wrong. Not when it comes to you.

But Andrea is by no means a vindictive person. No, she feels just as deeply as Frankie does. And right now, she must feel taken aback, surprised, everything in between.

The groaned pronunciation of your name echoes across the room. The silence that follows is deafening, shattering both his and her eardrums, hearts speeding at the highest rates. But it had to be said, no matter how painful or hard it would feel.

And it carries no shortage of either.

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

The question surprises Frankie, tremendously so. She doesn’t sound that shocked at the revelation, which, in a way, makes Frankie feel even worse, though he does carry understanding for the woman he fought so hard to love properly—and subsequently failed.

“Since I’ve known her,” he says. “High school, when we met. I was just a coward and couldn’t tell her that. Mornings, noon, and nights I care about her. It’s… exhausting and painful. I’m so sorry, Andy. I can’t keep acting like all this is okay, like we’re not playing this big hide and seek game.”

“You seemed to be okay with us pretending to be so in love when you thought she was gone abroad and gone out of your life forever. What’s changed now? Just because she’s back in town?”

“No, it’s more than that, it’s…”

Andrea’s tone suggests genuine interest and concern, which throws Frankie off his rhythm for a bit. And it’s in that moment that Andrea comes to realize she may have just exposed herself.

“I was okay with it because I didn’t think she’d—wait a minute,” Frankie wakes up. “What do you mean we’re pretending?”

Andrea falters, gulping and breaking the eye contact at last. She’s almost twitching, tapping her leg on the wooden floor, and then it hits Frankie: a potential reason why she’s been so adamant about his confession, so understanding and calm, and why she’d suggested the breakup in the first place.

A way to confirm his own suspicions and allow both of them peace of mind.

“Is there someone else in your life?”

When she returns his gaze, he sees her eyes teary and blown out, like her worst fear had just become reality. In all honesty, Frankie resonates with that sensation, much more than he’d like his pathetic self to admit.

“Andrea,” he calls out to her. “What really happened at that conference on Valentine’s Day? That’s where it all started.”

“When what started?”

“Please. Don’t make me beg you for a confession. I told you about me. I just want us to be honest with each other.”

A tear rolls down her cheek as she approaches him again, face clearly devastated.

“Would it make you feel better about your doing, Frankie?” she mutters. “Would it make you feel better to hear me confess that I did it, too? You know what they say, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

Frankie frowns, trying to process the information that was just thrown at him, so viciously and yet deeply regretful. Suddenly, a weight is being lifted from his chest, and he can finally feel, though still shamefully so, like a man free to be himself, to be true to his own feelings.

Maybe Andrea will get to feel this way too by the end of the night.

“What happened on Valentine’s Day?” he insists.

Andrea gulps. “I was at a conference, like I said. But I—I wasn’t alone.”

Frankie nods slowly, once, twice, allowing the confession to dawn on him. It sinks in, it becomes obvious, and he feels, oddly enough or not, empathy for the woman before him. He cannot be mad for the life of him. In this moment, he sees both of them crystal clear: two people driven by cowardice in the same way, broken in others, struggling to do the right thing and ending up being miserable because of it.

“I get the feeling it wasn’t just a one-time thing,” he coos.

Andrea shakes her head shyly. “It’s—still going. It was… actually, it was going on for a while before then.”

“How long?”

“A little over a year.”

A boulder crushes Frankie when he hears that. He starts to pace around the living room, looking back at all the wedding plans they’ve been doing, all the otherwise happy moments they shared, when he thought they could at least connect on a physical level—only to have it all shattered as an illusion.

But it doesn’t make him as mad as he thought he would be. Matter of fact, it makes him feel relieved, though saddened by the lengths they had to go to in order to find an ounce of real happiness.

“With whom, if I can ask?”

“Someone from work. His name is Mark. It just happened one day in the break room. A kiss. And then it… escalated.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with the concept.”

Seems the two have more in common that they thought, though not in the most socially acceptable way.

Frankie exhales, realizing that this might still work in both their favor if they play their cards right. That way, you won’t get the blame and it could all be circumstantial.

“So that’s why you wanted the break,” he concludes.

“He asked me to move in with him and—I panicked. I thought a break from us would help me view things more clearly, and it just messed them up even more and… I’m so sorry, Frankie. So sorry. I was… freaking out, finally realizing the magnitude of this mess and I thought it might be better… but then Mark started to beg me to end things, to do the right thing and make a choice and—“

“I know.”

“You do?”

Frankie shrugs. “The four of us have a lot in common by the looks of it.”

Andrea reaches for his hands, holding onto them like they’re a life vest.

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you,” she breaks down. “And like I told you back then, this had nothing to do with you. It’s me and all my fears and insecurities and desperate attempts to please my parents. Still. Like I’m the same little girl who’s afraid of their expectations and the pressure they’re putting on me. It’s not fair and it’s stupid, I know that.”

“But then… why insist on having the wedding back on? All of your messages said ‘we gotta make this work, no matter what’. What was the plan? Get married and you get to sneak around and shack up with Mark from work?”

Frankie acknowledges his accusatory tone, but this time he can’t help himself. He’s genuinely curious how Andrea planned to handle things.

“Because we were supposed to be the splitting image of happiness, you and me,” she replies apologetically. “The couple everyone is in awe of.”

“But it’s not the right thing, for either one of us. I doubt it would’ve worked this way. Being married and yet being madly in love with other people. Not for us, I mean. Maybe for others, but not for us.”

Frankie exhales slowly, rummaging the words. He can’t fully place the blame on the girl he was thankful for having in his life, nor can he condemn her for being in love with someone else. For all he knows, the other guy is the right choice for her.

If you love two people, choose the second one. Because if you were really in love with the first one, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second.

“Looks like we found real happiness elsewhere,” he concludes. “I really am sorry, Andrea.”

“So am I. Especially for dragging you into this whirlwind of insecurities projected by my family. This is my shit to handle, always has been. Never yours. Like you said, it’s not fair.”

“I thought I was this good, honorable man who would never cheat, but—“

“You are a good and honorable man. We were separated. I’m the cheater here, not you.”

Time stands still as he listens to her sharp words, the confession finally spilling from her tongue and out in the open.

“Can I tell you something though?” she asks. “I kind of suspected something was going on. Or rather that it might happen.”

Frankie freezes. Had he really been that obvious and careless?

“Whenever we were out, all of us, I saw the way you looked at her. The way you looked at each other. The way you’d hesitate to even hug her or be near her. A little too much struggle if you ask me. And I know because… well. I’ve done the same thing with Mark. And I knew it because you never really looked at me that way. So… blindly in love.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Another moment of silence. Andrea lets go of his hands, and Frankie feels the finality in the gesture. It all feels ultimate, at long last, freeing and shocking and painful and everything else in between.

“Obviously, this does sting,” Andrea says. “Neither one of us is that insensitive to not acknowledge that it does hurt. It’s been eight years, after all. Eight years since we’ve known each other, five years since we went out the first time. But you don’t have to carry this blame with you for the rest of your life. I am the one to blame.”

“But I—“

Andrea shakes her head. “You did nothing wrong, Frankie. Remember that. We don’t choose who we fall in love with. If it was a voluntary choice, we would’ve already been happily married.”

Frankie chuckles in embarrassment. He stares at the floor, still reeling into the guilt that’s been eating at him for the past few weeks.

“Do you love her?” she asks abruptly. “I know you’re in love with her, but do you love her?”

“I always did. It wasn’t just a hookup or a fling. I sucks to hear this, I know… but I have to say it, or I might never be okay again.”

Andrea nods, thus encouraging him to go on.

“It’s always been her,” he states. “And I think… I think her showing up here again means I got a second chance to do things right by her. To make it up to her.”

Andrea smiles. “Then make it up to her. Be there for her in all the ways you’ve always wanted to. Make it worth all of this madness.”

“I will.”

Frankie goes to hug her, both breathing properly for the first time in years.

“I’m really sorry,” Andrea mutters from his shoulder. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t acted honorably at all. And it’s not because I don’t love you, because I do. It’s just—“

They separate, and Frankie gives her a sympathetic look.

“It’s not the same,” he finishes.

Her smile is bittersweet as she confirms, “It’s not the same. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s okay. Like you said… we don’t choose our feelings. But I do love you.”

“I love you too. If my parents desperately wanted me to get married to the greatest guy they could ever meet, I’m glad it was you.”

He smiles flustered. “Thanks. Wait, so… what do we do now about the wedding? Your parents are gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. It’s time I stand up to them, stop them from controlling my life and my decisions.”

“We gotta cancel it.”

“Well, unless Mark decides to propose within the next three weeks, I’m guessing we do have to cancel it, yeah.”

“Fingers crossed for the proposal then.”

They both chuckle, getting a renewed sense of friendship rather than loss. There is still mutual respect between them, a love that feels rather platonic more than anything else. At the end of the day, they realize that, while it might’ve been a messy affair, they do care about each other, enough to be honest and support each other.

“Do you love him?” Frankie asks while Andrea fumbles with her bag. “This Mark guy.”

“Is it bad to say that I really, really do?”

Frankie huffs, amused. “Not at all. I get it.”

“Oh, thank you, by the way.”

“What the hell for?”

“For having the guts to do what I couldn’t. I know firsthand it’s not easy, all that internal struggle, the sleepless nights… thank you for having enough courage for us both.”

She hugs him again, swinging the bag over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go stay with my cousin till I figure this whole thing out and uh… I guess I’ll pick the rest of my things over the weekend.”

“You can stay if you want.”

“I believe you got one more thing to do tonight. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Andrea leaves, which reminds Frankie of said thing he has to do. He grabs his phone and keys in a haste, and gets in the car.

It’s almost ten p.m. and you’re in your pajamas, on your second glass of red wine. Your mind won’t stop playing various scenarios of Frankie and Andrea and how their conversation might go. You picture it going both ways, and it’s maddening to not know anything. You resist the urge to text him anything, in spite of your raging curiosity. They need their privacy for such a tough conversation.

A knock on the door distracts you. You express your displeasure through a loud huff, but you go to open the door regardless, only to be left breathless at the sight.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

Frankie’s face is rather radiant, but you still refuse to hope for anything just yet. You can’t bring yourself to feel happy till you hear him say explicit words.

“What are you doing here?” you ask absentmindedly.

“I talked to Andrea.”

You draw in a big breath, holding it in, longing, aching.

“And?” you can barely bring yourself to ask.

He steps in, cupping your cheek and causing your whole body to tremble.

“I told you,” he says, nearly breaking into a smile. “It’s always been you.”

You finally exhale, the sound breaking into tiny little gasps as you stare at him. He goes in to hug you, holding you tight into his arms, and you close your eyes, feeling your eyes teary with happiness. It is so overwhelming that it nearly knocks you out.

You cup his cheeks, memorizing every little detail of his face in excitement, clinging onto him with a neediness you didn’t realize you had in you.

“How did Andrea take it? What happened?” you ask.

“It was… tough, but it’s over. She was very understanding. Apparently she’s been going through the same shit we have.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as you still cup his cheeks and his hands are wrapped around your waist.

“Seriously?” you ask, stunned.

“Yep. She’s been with this guy Mark for over a year.”

“Damn. How did you take it?”

Frankie huffs. “I was pretty surprised myself. But I really couldn’t blame her or be mad. We talked things through and we agreed to call off the wedding.”

“I’m sorry.”

Frankie nearly bursts into laughter. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just… I feel responsible for turning your world upside down and causing a wedge between you two.”

“You didn’t do that, Hermosa. It would’ve been far worse to actually go through with it and then discover she’s dating someone else.”

You nod in agreement. But you also can’t deny the effect that his pet name has on you, fire spreading through your bloodstream. The sudden sensation of his hands on your waist are driving you insane; that mixed with the red wine in your veins, dangerous combination.

But for the first time, you won’t have to hold back. You won’t have to do anything in a rush, to bite down your tongue to not scream his name, and you won’t have to hide anything.

“Are you okay?” you check.

“I love you,” he tells you instead, pecking your nose.

You smile, your heart so full it might burst out of your chest.

“I love you. So fucking much.”

“So fucking much.”

You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him in and leading him to your bedroom. You take the time to feel his lips over your skin, to feel his strong hands knead your flesh, to feel his hot breath in between your legs and to feel him inside you, moving with fervor.

For the first time in your life, you allow yourself to love Frankie Morales unapologetically and freely on that warm May evening, and so does he.

previous | next (EPILOGUE)

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x female reader #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales fic #francisco morales fluff #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #sweet lies series

[tightjeansjavi]

Catfish | Chapter 1

🫧Filet O’Frankie🫧

A/N: this is my first ever Frankie fic and while I’m excited, I’m also a little nervous since I have never written for him before 😭 be prepared for lot of corny ocean/fish innuendo’s and Frankie being an ass because why would he just admit to the reader that he’s attracted to her? Nah, that would be too easy!

~word count: 3.0k~

Summary: a fisherman walks into a bar..you again with the damn umbrellas in his drink.

Pairing | fisherman!Frankie Morales x bartender f!reader

Warnings: fluff ,teasing, banter, reader has thoughts of jealousy and feelings of insecurity, language, sexual tension, mutual pining, implied smut (not with the reader) mentions of alcohol, ouid, mean!frankie, grumpy!frankie, is really just a big ole softy!frankie, close proximity, no fish fingers..I swear, no age gap, readers nickname is Starfish, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni

A fisherman walks into a bar..you again with the damn umbrellas in his drink.

You’ve been working at the town bar right along the harbor where fishermen and tourists would parade down the wooden docks like a flock of seagulls.

Instead of throwing yourself head first into figuring out your career after graduating with your masters in publishing, you decided to take a year off and return to your roots. You grew up in this little beach town, and it would always be your home.

Then there was him; Frankie Morales. A local fisherman that you used to attend highschool with..except, you lived in two completely different worlds. Frankie’s parents owned a small fishing business that Frankie attended to. And once his father could no longer hold down the business on his own, Frankie took over the business entirely.

Now, here’s where your two worlds finally meet. The bar you work at? It’s owned by your parents who gratefully hired you to be a bartender. The catch? (literally). Frankie gets drinks and food on the house simply for the fact that he supplies fish to the bar. It’s a fair trade, and even though he frowns upon some of the trendier menu items, business is good so he really has no room to complain.

Unless..that complaint is directly rooted back to you.

Frankie Morales can’t stand you, and those stupid little multi-colored umbrellas that you insistently put in his beer, every. Goddamn. Time.

Other than those stupid little umbrellas, you’re an alright person. Pretty, bubbly, chatty with everyone that crosses paths with you. Your infectious energy can be described to be similar to a Golden Retriever or a Husky. Whereas for Frankie? Well, he’d agree that he has black cat energy, and not an ounce of Golden. (You’d beg to disagree).

Sure, he’s a bit offstandish, mean at times, but man, is he handsome. Handsome to the point where you want to giggle and kick your feet anytime you see him. He’s mean, but you can’t help the way that you feel. Maybe he’s so grumpy all the time because he’s out at sea from morning to evening, and he smells a bit, well, fishy.

You remind me of a starfish. He said completely out of the blue on one particularly hot summer day while you were pouring his first beer after a long day out at sea. Just down the dock, the water was glistening under the bright sunlight, shimmering like a million diamonds.

Because they’re pretty? You set his glass down between his hands where they were resting along the bartop. Before he could take a sip, you placed a hot pink umbrella stick into his glass.

He grumbled, like he always did, before he adjusted his usual baseball cap on his mess of curls. Sometimes you wondered if he ever washed that damn hat.

No. Not because they’re pretty, but because they suction themselves to everything. He said casually while gingerly plucking the umbrella from his glass and tossing it to the side.

You glare at him while you feel your heart clench inwards like a tight fist. “Well, if I’m a Starfish, then I’m going to start calling you..Fish Filet.”

His brow raises in mock amusement at your little nickname for him. “Fish Filet?” He scoffs, “how original.”

You want to stomp your foot and tell him that he’s really being an ass, but that voice inside of your head reminds you to refrain from stooping to his level. “It’s either that, or Catfish. So, I suggest you pick one, Morales.” You quip.

He grimaces as soon as the words “Catfish” leave your lips. His face scrunches inwards like he has just gotten a taste of something sour, revolting. You can’t see his deep brown eyes as they’re hidden from your view by his sunglasses, but you imagine he’s glaring at you now too. “Do not call me Catfish ever. Call me Fish Filet or whatever, but not Catfish.” His words are firm, straight to the point as he brings the rim of his glass to his lips and takes a large sip.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Fish Filet.” your middle finger slowly rises upwards, but before it can be fully extended, he reaches over the bartop and swiftly interjects with his hand.

His palm is warm, and albeit, a tad sweaty, but that doesn’t stop the sparks from shooting up through your arm from his sudden contact.

He says nothing, scoffs, assumably rolls his eyes before he retracts his hand.

He’s so mean, but your heart skips a beat whenever he’s near.

“I don’t get what you see in him honestly. Sure, he’s a good looking guy, but he’s such fucking dick to you during every interaction i’ve seen.” Your coworker, and close friend says to you while fixing up another drink. It’s happy hour at the bar and the tourists are in full swing tonight.

You laugh, because you know she’s right, why continuously bat your lashes at a man who wants nothing to do with you? Is it the chase that excites you? The coursing adrenaline firing through your veins. The close proximity?

There was that one time that you believed Frankie almost was attracted to you. It was during a little beach bash that ended up with you and a few friends making a drunk decision to skinny dip in the ocean. You caught Frankie trying to inconspicuously sneak a peek, but you caught him in the act, and you had never seen a man’s face turn so red.

“Yeah, he’s mean, he’s an asshole.” You agree, “but, June, look at him. He’s a dreamboat, literally. I think he’s just a big fat grump all the time because he’s forgetting to wear his sunscreen, and he faintly smells of fish. I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty pissed if I kept getting nasty sunburns and smelled..fishy.”

You know that Juniper is just looking out for your well-being and just wants the best for you. But she just can’t seem to grasp why you were so attracted to a man who seemed like he could frankly give two-shits about you, and your existence in his life.

“I wouldn’t exactly call Frankie Morales a dreamboat in my books, but I just think you’re a total catch, and any guy would be lucky to just breathe the same air as you.” Juniper said while she expertly lifted a tray of freshly made shots to deliver to her table.

When she walks away, that's when you notice the devil himself with another tourist who’s wrapped tightly around his finger like a worm on a fishing wire. Frankie doesn’t have to try very hard to get his dick wet practically every night. He just has to smile, run his fingers through his curls, and look in their direction before they’re ensnared. You used to think he was like a shark, swimming in the depths of the ocean, targeting his prey when they least expect it. But now, he reminded you of a Barracuda. Calculated, precise, and almost always successful in his ‘hunts.’

You never considered yourself to be jealous in nature. Not even in past friendships or fizzled out relationships with mediocre guys that you spent your college days with. These feelings didn’t begin to breach the surface until Frankie Fucking Morales showed up on your radar

Your fist clenched tightly around the little paper umbrella in your grasp while you watched Frankie work his magic. He made a point to freshen up before heading to the bar. He’s wearing a clean shirt, and that same stupid baseball cap. His jeans fit snugly on his waist and thighs. What you wouldn’t give to slip your hands into the stitched back pockets of his jeans.

He leans in close, whispering something into the female tourist's ear that elicits her to throw her head back a little and giggle. Her hand slides up the expanse of his chest where he’s left two buttons purposely undone for this exact reason.

You can see the sliver of exposed skin glistening under the fairy lights strung along one of the wooden beams. His skin is tanned, bronzed, and you imagine dragging your tongue between his pecs, tasting the tang of the sea, and of him all in one swipe.

His hand rests along the lower back of the woman, fingers sliding down further to rest along the curve of her ass. She’s wearing a flowy sundress, one that you’ve seen in a boutique in town. She looks beautiful, and even though you know you shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you can’t help but feel like you look frumpy next to this stranger.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene that is unfolding in front of you even if you tried. It reminds you of the feeling while watching a really bad movie or tv show, and feeling like you probably should stop, but the small part of you is dying to know what happens next. You watch closely as he leans in, lips brushing the shell of the woman’s ear in a teasing fashion. You wonder if he popped in a few breath mints, and spritzed on some cologne. You were so used to him wearing the sea on his skin, that it was hard to picture him smelling any different.

Wanna get out of here, beautiful?

She nods, and he reels her in, just like he did with the last one, and the one before that. He was the enticing bait on a hook, and they were the unsuspecting, curious fish that just had to go in for a taste.

You hear his warm laughter that echoes through the hot summer night air as he entwines his fingers through the woman’s hand and leads her to the bartop with nothing short of enthusiasm in his step.

“Evening, Starfish. Mind hooking up my lady friend and I here with a couple shots of tequila?” He’s dropped her hand now and rests his bare tanned elbow along the sea glass countertop. His other arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. His small grin is enticing, tantalizing and sending the butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. On the outside, you remain calm, collected, and professional.

“Good evening, Fish Filet. Sure, you want salt and lime on the side as well?” You smile politely at him and his catch of the evening.

“Fish Filet?” The woman giggles, dragging her nails across his bicep as she leans into his strong grip around her waist. “Is that your nickname, Frankie?”

He chuckles, ignoring her for a moment to focus all of his attention on you while he pulls out a five dollar bill and places it in the tip jar. “Salt and lime on the side as well. Thank you, Starfish.”

He usually never bothers to tip you, and it’s not expected given the arrangement, but you think that maybe he’s just doing it all for show so that his lady friend believes him to be a chivalrous man.

“You got it, Catfish.” You shoot him a wink before he even has the chance to open his mouth to spit something back.

Your face heats up at the realization of what you just called him while you turn your back swiftly and grab the nearest bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

Yeah, dollface. It’s my nickname because y’know, I’m a fisherman. He’s leaned in close again that the woman can feel his hot breath fanning her cheeks and parted lips.

Well, you don’t smell like a fisherman, Frankie.

His hand moves from her waist and slowly ascends upwards, drifting across her exposed cleavage before settling at the base of her throat, feeling her pulsepoint quicken and jump from his lingering touch. He presses a hidden kiss to the spot where the base of her ear connects with her jaw. His patchy, uneven beard tickles her skin as she lurches forward for even closer contact.

No, I don’t. He agrees, But I fuck like one.

Her knees nearly buckle in on themselves from the tone of his voice and the way that every word drips from his lips like warm, sticky, sugary sweet, syrup.

“Two shots of tequila on the house.” You announce, breaking through the building, palpable tension like a hot knife on a pad of butter. You can hear the sizzling sound now.

“Thanks, Starfish. You wanna take one too?” He offers, knowing that you’ll decline his invitation.

“Can’t drink on the job, Frankie.” You think about saying thank you, but for what? You don’t really owe him that either.

He shrugs, unfazed by your immediate choice to decline him as he returns his attention back to the woman beside him.

“You ever taken a tequila shot before, cariño? Goes down nice and smooth with a bit of salt and lime.” He slides the shot glass of shelf Tequila to her with ease while he grabs the two lime wedges and the salt shaker.

“No, I'm afraid I've been taking tequila shots wrong this entire time.” She might be lying, but you can’t really tell just based on her tone.

“That’s alright, beautiful.” He reassures her. “I’ll show ya how to do it properly.” He licks the back of his left hand before sprinkling a bit of salt on it. “Licking the salt before you take the shot really minimizes the burn on its way down.” He explains.

“Care to do the honors?” She asks while holding her hand out towards him.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the scene playing out in front of you, but that would give yourself away. And you’d be damned if Frankie ever knew how you really felt, so you busied yourself with wiping down the same glasses you had cleaned off earlier in the evening.

In your peripheral you see Frankie drag his tongue across the back of her left hand, his eyes flit upwards towards her face so she can get a mental image of exactly what he’ll look like when his face is buried between her thighs–

He pours a trail of salt granules on the outside of her hand and his own. “Now, we lick the salt, cariño, then immediately take the shot, and finish with the lime. It really brings the flavor of the tequila out.” He grabs his own shot glass and lightly taps it with hers before he licks the back of his hand, throws the shot down his throat, and grabs the lime wedge. He sucks the citrus juice from the fruit expertly just as she’s taking her own shot. Before she reaches for her own lime wedge, his hand drops to her waist, pulling her flush against his chest before he kisses her deeply. She’s surprised, but eager as her arms loop around his neck in the heated kiss. She can taste the salt, tequila and the lime juice on his tongue as he licks greedily into her mouth.

Get a fucking room, Morales. You say to yourself internally. The jealousy burns deep and is stoked at with a hot iron that scorches your insides.

That’s how a real man kisses, and I'll never know what it's like.

He pulls away from the bruising kiss just for a lick of air. His lips are slightly swollen, and now coated in a light pink shimmer from her pretty lipgloss. Her fingers are toying with curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I see what you mean about the salt and lime now, Frankie.” She purrs.

His eyes meet yours across the bartop, brow raised as he waits to see if this will be the night that you finally snap and show him that his attraction to you hasn’t gone blindly unnoticed. That maybe you’ll stop him from taking this woman back to his boat, stop him from fucking her till her legs shake, and the only name she’ll remember on her vacation is his; Frankie Morales, the fisherman. Whereas come morning, she’ll be gone, and he won’t even remember her name, just like the rest of them.

Instead, you stand there, eyes meeting him in an even-toned gaze. There’s no indication given on how you feel towards him, or that you wish it was you he was taking back to his boat. You simply smile, give him a small nod before you return to wiping down the glasses.

Only when his back is turned towards you, and you hear the scraping of the bar stool, and the light jingling of his keys being pulled from his pocket does your face finally fall, and your mask loses its place like loosened strings on a violin that hasn’t been properly tuned in a very, very long time.

His arm stays wrapped around his catch of the night as he leads her down the dock where his boat is gently bobbing with the evening current. He kisses her again, calloused hands from tugging coarse rope, and fastening fishing lines, now bunches up the fabric of her dress in a haste.

Through the open window at the stern of his ship, you can hear her breathy high-pitched moans, and his deeper, more prominent groans as he drills his hips into her pelvis over and over again, imagining it was you instead.

It’s an hour past closing time for the bar when his catch of the night finally stumbles from his boat, heels clutched in one hand as she wobbles up the dock. She’s close enough that you can see her face, and her wild mess of hair and swollen lips, and that post-fuck glow to her skin as she passes by you without a glance.

Frankie emerges minutes later, shirtless, boxers hung low on his lips, baseball cap on his mess of curls. In one hand he holds a cheap beer, and in the other, a joint and a lighter held between his middle and forefinger. He sits along the bow of his boat, sparks up the joint, before he lays on his back and gazes up at the starry night sky longingly.

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#fic: Catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #francisco morales #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales au #pedro pascal characters #mean!frankie morales #fisherman!frankie #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

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[ilovepedro]

frosted cookies | husband!frankie morales x wife!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4.4k

Summary: You pack away an extra treat in your husband’s lunch. What happens when Frankie sees you’ve packed more than just some cookies? Cookies won’t be the only thing that’s frosted when he has his way with you.

Warnings: unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all!!), oral (f receiving), fingering, doggy style, missionary, praise kink, three (3) spanks, cum eating, teeniest bit of soft dom!Frankie, sickening fluff, after care, pet names (querida, hermosa, baby, etc), husband!Frankie being so in love and down bad for his wife, reader speaks some Spanish, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, some Spanish translations throughout.

A/N: can be read as part of the “just married” universe or a stand alone. did y’all think i forgot about a 500 follower treat?! hehehe i would never!! i’m back with a lil slice of domestic holiday bliss and smut with our guy, our husband! i’m just so down bad for Frankie, like there’s really no explaining myself. he’s everything. i want him so bad.🧎‍♀️anyway, happy Frankie friday everybody! hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏼 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

“Jesus, querida. How many cookies are you gonna bake?” Frankie asks before popping one into his mouth. “Francisco! Ya basta! (Enough) Those are for tomorrow!” You yell, smacking your husband’s hand away from getting anymore cookies.

After tomorrow, you and Frankie are off for 10 days. The stress and anticipation of the festivities and just spending uninterrupted time together energizes you to work rapidly. You’ve been baking all day for your office’s Christmas party, whipping up an array of cookies and packaging them up to give out to your coworkers.

 Flour, powdered sugar, and icing bags are scattered throughout the counter. A bowl of icing sitting in the middle of the island and cookie cutters next to 3 trays of cookies. Powdered sugar coats your hands and icing splattered across your apron.

“Lo siento, bebita, (I'm sorry, baby girl)” he says through a muffled mouthful of cookie, rubbing circles on your lower back while he peppers kisses to your shoulder.

“I have to make sure there’s enough for everyone. 50 is good right? The whole office will be there, and I don’t want anyone to feel left out,” you ramble as you roll out the last batch of dough in between parchment paper. Frankie rubs up and down your arms as you cut them into shapes.

“50 is plenty, baby. You work too hard, mi amor. Is this the last batch?”

“Yeah, I’ll finally be done after this one comes out the oven,” you say as you place them onto the cookie sheet.

“Good. You need to rest, and I wanna have my wife to myself.” You turn around in his embrace and wrap your arms around his neck. “You sure no one will feel left out?”

A small gentle smile splays on his lips as he readjusts his grip on your hips. “No one will feel left out, baby. I promise. And if they do, then fuck ‘em. They don’t know how hard you work, or how kind you truly are,” he softly says. A relieved smile creeps onto your face as a toothy grin appears on his. He places a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips, you getting lost in him as the taste of him mixes with the sugary cookie he’d just eaten. Both of you sighing into one another, never getting enough of each other.

The oven timer dings, startling the both of you and breaking the kiss as you jump back a bit. The two of you giggling like a pair of children, Frankie places one last chaste kiss to your lips as you head to the oven. Feeling a playful swat to your ass, you turn around and playfully scold your husband as you remove the cookies out of the oven - the aroma of sugar and spice filling the air.

“How long’s this last batch gonna take, mi vida?” Frankie asks as you place the final batch of cookies in the oven. “Only 15 minutes, mi amor. Tener paciencia (have patience),” you say through a fit of giggles, laughing at your husband’s impatience. He scoffs, rolling his eyes as you stride towards him. Pulling him in for another kiss, his hands freely roam down to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze. Laughing into him, you pull away as you bark out a belly laugh, your husband mirroring you.

“Could you help me clean up, please baby? The faster we clean, the faster I’m all yours,” you taunt. “Of course, mi vida, you don’t even have to ask. Although, the incentive is nice,” he says with a smirk. The two of you swiftly maneuver throughout the kitchen while the cookies bake. Frankie clearing the counter as you wipe it down, and washing and drying dishes together - working in tandem to tidy up your kitchen. The oven timer dings once more, Frankie washing and drying the remaining dishes as you remove the last batch and set them on the cooling rack. As you remove your oven mitts, Frankie tosses the dish rag onto the counter and swoops behind you, engulfing you in his broad, taut arms while he litters kisses along your neck.

“All done, mi amor?” He asks against your skin, his mustache tickling you along with his eagerness, eliciting a laugh from you. “All done, mi amor,” you laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck to twirl the curls at the nape of his neck. “Vamos, mi esposa,” he says, whisking you away and up the stairs.

Laughter bubbling over the two of you as you rush up the stairs.

After tomorrow, it’s 10 days of this - uninterrupted bliss with each other.

Frankie plops down on the chair, groaning as time ticks by agonizingly slow. He runs a hand over his face, his wedding ring making contact with his cheek reminds him of you - just 4 more hours until he’s home with you.

Cracking open his lunchbox, he smiles as he spots the usual yellow sticky note that you pack in his lunch which lay atop some of the freshly baked cookies that you made last night. Picking it up, he reads the note:

“Enjoy your lunch, mi esposo hermoso. Can’t wait for you to frost my cookie when you get home ;)

-Con amor, su esposa”

Beneath it, a polaroid of you dressed in a crimson red babydoll with white fur lining the bust. It leaves little to the imagination as you display your breasts to the camera, a coy smile on your lips as white frosting runs down your lips and onto your chin, teasingly biting into one of the cookies you baked.

His breath hitches in his throat, eyes widening as he takes in your form. He’s hard as a fucking rock, his lunch now completely forgotten.

“‘S matter, boss? Wife forget to pack your juice or something?” A stupid rookie asks, laughing too hard at his own joke as he creeps up behind Frankie to catch a glimpse inside his lunchbox. Frankie immediately drops the polaroid back inside and flips the lid closed before the rookie can see it.

“Shut the hell up, Daniel,” Frankie grumbles as he rises to his feet, stomping out of the break room and into his tiny, cluttered office. He typically eats lunch here, wanting to get away from the fumes that permeate the shop, but the anticipation of your time off together made him antsy - seeking out a place without constant reminders of you as the day drags on.

That did absolutely nothing. Your boudoir polaroid having made his day better and worse simultaneously. You looked nothing short of a dream, but now his impatience is getting the better of him as his mind wanders to all the things he plans to do to you tonight. He groans, his cock still half hard as he unravels his lunch. He huffs sticking the polaroid in his wallet, aggressively nibbling at his lunch.

Could this day go by any slower?

He opens the door, tossing his keys into the bowl as he shuts and locks it. Trudging inside, he toes off his boots, pushing them to the side as he takes in your fully decorated home. His heart swells at the sight, knowing you were off work early today after your office party. Meaning you probably spent the entire afternoon decorating.

Garlands adorn every wall, the tree now fully decorated and the Christmas village sits atop the mantle. Twinkling lights warmly illuminate the room. The sprig of mistletoe hangs above the entryway to the kitchen, the smell of dinner and more baked goods permeating through the air mingling with the fresh pine scent of the tree.

You’ve gone full Christmas-mode and he can’t get enough of your domesticity - your ability to make every single thing you touch feel like home.

“Frankie?!” You yell faintly from the kitchen.

“Hermosa, I’m home!” He shouts as he shrugs off his brown utility jacket. Footsteps bound from the kitchen and into the hall. There you stand, in all your domestic glory with your apron around your front and a bit of flour on your cheek. 

You beam at him, happy your husband is finally home for the week. Your office is closed and so is the shop for the following week and then some for the holiday, now you have him all to yourself for the next 10 days. Practically flinging yourself into his arms, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss. He laughs at your eagerness, his cock twitching in his pants as you tug him closer by his soft curls, deepening the kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, a soft moan escaping you and into Frankie.

It’s unclear who breaks the kiss first, but the both of you are heaving, panting for air. The smile returning to your face, a smug look appearing on your husband’s face. 

“Hi, baby. I missed you.” Your hands snake up his chest and you remove his cap from his head, setting it on the table by the door, carding your fingers through his hair. His smile softens, eyes gleaming with love. “Hi, mi amor. I missed you too. I see you got up to some stuff while I was gone,” he says, swirling circles on your lower back. You giggle, knowing you can be a bit elaborate when it comes to decorating.

“‘S not too much?” You ask. He quickly shakes his head. “Never, mi amor,” he nearly whispers, reassuring you before capturing your lips in another kiss. Walking you backwards into the kitchen, he presses you up against the kitchen counter, catching a whiff of something baking in the oven again.

He pulls back, forehead resting against yours as he swipes away the flour that’s smudged on your cheek. “You’re still baking, mi vida? I thought you were finished,” he asks. “I am, but I wanted to make you something, a treat to celebrate our vacation,” you ramble. A chuckle rumbles in his sturdy chest.

“Got the most delicious treat right here,” he tsks, you chuckle rolling your eyes at his cheesiness as butterflies erupt in your belly. His hardening length presses against your core as he dives in to litter your neck with kisses. “Even got a picture to prove it,” he rasps against you. A small gasp escapes you.

So he did see the picture.

“Oh really? Can I see this picture, amor?” Your voice breathy and titillating, feigning oblivion as a smirk plastered on your face while he sucks on your neck.

“I’m sure you know what it looks like. In fact, you’re gonna let me recreate it with the real thing, baby.” His voice low and husky now as his clothed, hard cock ruts into you.

A wave of arousal pools in your panties. “I am?” You breathlessly ask, still keeping up the innocent act.

“Mhmm. Gonna be covered in me. Isn’t that what you wanted, princesa? Huh? You couldn’t wait for me to get home and frost your cookie, hermosa?” He asks as his lips ghost over yours now, emphasizing the reference to the note you’d put in his lunchbox this morning. You snort, eyes shutting as heat courses through your veins as he quotes the note, and warmth blooming in your belly.

A light smack to your thigh reels you back in, eyes flying open. His eyes filled with lust, pupils darkening. Your eyes glossy and hazy, feeling tipsy just off his embrace, his words.

“Y-yes, Frankie. ‘S what I wanted - want. Want you s-so bad, mi amor,” you mumble against his ear as he resumes peppering kisses along your chest. Humming against you, your words going straight to his cock, which you feel as he presses into your core a bit harder.

“Want you so bad, too, princesa. Been wanting you all day. Y’know how hard it was to keep it together seeing that picture of you? Look so fucking sexy, fuck. Had to stop myself from cumming in my jeans like a fucking teenager,” he mutters into your ear. You giggle, taking great joy in knowing your husband wants you just as bad as you do, maybe even more.

He bites down on your earlobe, your giggles quickly dissipating into a moan. “But what you did today was so bad, mi vida. Distracted me all fucking day from work, could barely concentrate. I think you just made it on the naughty list. What do you think, baby? Are you naughty or nice?”

“N-nice. Nice, baby,” you whimper as Frankie unties your apron and smoothly tosses it on the counter. 

“Mmmm, you sure about that? You gonna be a nice, good girl for me and let me have my way with you?” You furiously nod, your neediness growing into an impatient monster. 

He laughs at your eagerness, relishing in how needy you are for him. “Come on, princesa. Show me how good you are,” he rasps before releasing you from his grasp, grabbing your hand as you two stumble out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Excitement stirring within you as he leads you to your room.

Frankie flings the door open, eagerly bringing you into his embrace again. He cups your cheeks, leaning in as his lips engulf yours in a messy, heated kiss. It’s all tongue as teeth gnash together, moans flying out from both of you while you strip each other down. Frankie groans as he discards your bra onto the floor. You can’t help the moan that escapes you as you shuck off your husband’s briefs, his hard cock springing free, weeping and red.

“On the bed, hermosa,” he demands, his timbre husky and low. You scramble onto the bed, laying on your back, displaying yourself for your husband. “Spread your legs.”

Your brain on autopilot, operating as if Frankie has a remote to control your actions.

Legs spread, the cool air of the room hits your sopping core, a shiver running down your spine. Frankie licks his lips, pupils blown black and wide swirling with lust. He stalks towards you, laying down and settling himself in front of your aching pussy. He grabs your thighs, placing them on either side of his head. The frigidity of his wedding band burning into your skin, contrasting the blaze that burns from within you as you anticipate your husband’s next move.

You pant as the excitement transforms into a forest fire within your core, Frankie so close to where you desperately need him. He presses firm kisses to your thighs, your breath catching in your throat again. Kissing and nipping at your thighs, your neediness causes your hips to involuntarily buck into Frankie - his nose catching on your clit for a split second. A shocking loud moan escapes you as Frankie pushes you back down on the bed.

“Just like you told me last night, mi vida. And like how I had to tell myself after what you pulled this afternoon: tener paciencia,” he practically growls against your thighs. You whine as his teasing resumes. You know this is payback for the polaroid, making him wait all day for some relief. Your husband is the most patient man you know, even when he wants nothing more than to take you any chance he can get.

His desire for you though, constantly burning, so you know this must be killing him too. However, the sweet revenge of seeing you fall apart and writhe under him, begging him to do something is the most delicious reward.

“Frankie,” you desperately sigh, eyes closing as he presses kisses to your mound. “When have I ever not given you what you wanted? Hmm, baby?” He asks against your core, your eyes opening and to lock with his gaze. “Never, mi amor,” you nearly whisper, it comes out much more rushed than intended.

“Tranquila, mi vida. I’m gonna take care of you and this pretty pussy. I got you, baby,” he says with one last kiss to your thigh. Without preamble, he licks a long, languid stripe up your folds. A relieved moan tumbling from your lips as you bury your head further into the pillow. He repetitiously licks up your glistening core, your clit throbbing for some attention. Your husband knows your body like the back of his hand, as if he can read your mind.

He flicks your precious pearl with a steady rhythm, wrapping his lips around it. You twitch underneath him, eyes heavy and glazed.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You keen as your hands fly to tug on his hair, his rhythmic, skilled tongue bringing you closer to the edge. Your weeping cunt clenches around nothing as a wave of slick seeps from your hole. He snakes a hand up to cup your breast, flicking and suckling your clit as he rolls your nipple in between his thick, calloused fingers, alternating breasts. Your breathing is ragged as you moan, Frankie groaning and humming into you. The vibrations rumbling from within him launching you higher into your climax, teetering on lift off.

“Feels s-so f-fucking good, Frankie. Always s-so fucking g-good,” you babble. He pulls away for a second, his chin coated in your slick. “Come on, baby. Know you’re close. Let go, hermosa,” he rasps right above your swollen cunt. He dives back in, moving his hand from your breast to your entrance, two fingers sliding home with the amount of slick pouring from you.

A sharp gasp escapes you, eyes rolling back at the welcomed intrusion as Frankie rapidly and steadily alternates between sucking and flicking your clit. His fingers hitting that spongy spot only his fingers and cock can reach. The coil in your belly snaps as you’re launched into your orgasm, stars appearing behind your eyes as your vision blurs white hot.

Frankie helps you ride out your high as you scream and writhe beneath him, lapping up every last drop of slick gushing from your throbbing pussy. Desperately trying not to rut his hips into the mattress, he groans at the sweet, tangy taste of you that he can never get enough of. Your thighs tremble as you slowly return back to Earth, whimpering as Frankie presses soft kisses to your thighs.

“Did so good for me, baby. Always so fucking good for me,” he hushes you, peppering kisses up your body.

You fight to keep your eyes open, catching sight of your husband soaked in your release as his mustache and patchy beard gleams in the warm glow of the bedroom.

Pulling him down, you connect your lips with his, both of you moaning into one another. Wrapping your arms around his broad, strong shoulders as you tug on his curls. His mouth licking into yours, letting you taste your sweet slick on your tongue. Sweet and heady, the kiss melds into something sinful as you feel Frankie’s hard, leaking cock rubs right above your core. Precum smearing on your belly, Frankie pulls back and moans at the friction.

“Not done with you yet, querida,” he says gruffly as he lifts himself off you. “Turn around,” he demands. You recognize that tone: he’s gonna have his way with you tonight. A shiver runs down your spine as a new rush of arousal burns brightly in your core. You swiftly lay on your stomach.

“On your knees, baby.” His voice husky and firm. You readjust yourself and settle on your knees, balancing yourself on your forearms. Feeling the mattress dip behind you, another spark of arousal jolts in your pussy, your belly warm and full of anticipation. You can hear Frankie pumping himself in his fist as he lines his hips up with yours.

“See, you can be a good girl. Knew you could do it, mi vida.” You moan at his praise. His large hands caress your ass, engulfing your cheeks in each hand, admiring the view. You teasingly wiggle your ass, Frankie-drunk giggles bubbling over your lips and spilling into the pillow. A smack comes down on your ass, the sting of it making your pussy throb. Moaning as you turn your head to the side, locking eyes with Frankie.

His chocolate irises invisible, eyes completely darkened and filled to the brim with lust.

“Don’t start.” You nod, drool pooling under your mouth, your patience wearing thin. “Be good, baby,” he rasps as he lines his cock up with your entrance. His tip prodding your aching hole, as one of his hands rests on your ass. He slowly slides in, taking his time bottoming out. Both of you moaning in tandem as his cock splits you open, the sting blurring the lines of pain and pleasure. You squeeze around him as he fully sheathes himself inside you, never fully getting used to his size despite being married to him now.

“Alright, baby. Alright, baby,” He hisses, roughly kneading your ass. “Come on now. Relax, baby. I got you,” he calmly whispers. You feel yourself relax, unclenching and releasing him from your vice grip. “There we go. Good girl,” he says as he leans down to press a kiss behind the shell of your ear.

He slowly slides out from you, nearly pulling out all the way until he slams his hips back into yours. His cock punching your cervix.

“Frankie!” You gasp, moaning as you grip the sheets. He repeats the motion, grunting as he cants his hips. “Tightest, sweetest fucking pussy ever. Fuck, always feel so fucking good, baby. You were made for me, made to take my cock. Huh, querida?” He asks, breathing ragged as he fucks in and out of you. You nod and moan in agreement, words escaping you as he brings you close to your second orgasm. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to slowly creep up on you, still reeling from the sensitivity of your previous one.

Another smack hits your ass, clenching around him in your tight heat. You love when Frankie gets a bit rough with you.

“Words, querida. Come on, you were doing so good,” he taunts. You swallow through your moans, unaware of the desperate tears of pleasure that were pooling in your eyes.

“Y-yes, baby. Made for you, made for your cock. S-so fucking good to me, Frankie. L-luckiest girl in the w-world,” you babble. You feel him twitch inside you before he pulls out.

Whining at the loss of your husband’s cock, you’re suddenly being flipped on your back. Before you can give what’s happening a second thought, Frankie slides back into you. Your calves pressed against his strong chest, your ankles resting atop his taut shoulders as he bends you in half. His pace rapidly picking up, his thrusts growing sloppy.

“‘S right, baby. Made for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world, querida. Won the wife lottery,” he rasps lowly, pressing a kiss to your calf.

The love you have for this man is overwhelming. His existence constantly gracing your mind, his unwavering support, his unconditional love, never feeling like you’re not enough for him, his kindness, his patience, how gentle he is with you even when he’s roughing you up.

“Eres la esposa más hermosa y perfecta del mundo. (You're the most beautiful and perfect wife in the world) So lucky to call you my wife, baby,” he grunts, punctuating each word with his thrusts. His sweet words toss you over the edge, fat tears of euphoria and love cascade down your cheeks as you scream his name.

An endless stream of slick seeps from your cunt, coating Frankie in your release. The squelching sound filling the air mixed with pants and moans is sinful, obscene.

“Fuck yes, baby. Give it to me, all of it. Soak my cock, querida. So fucking good - you, this pussy, our life, fuck yes,” he babbles. You mindlessly move your legs from his hold to wrap around his middle, bringing him in closer as you ride out your high.

“Love you so much, Frankie. Best husband in the world, come on, mi amor. Cum for me, need your cum,” you whine, giving him one last good squeeze. Frankie fills you up with half his load before pulling out and coating your mound in his cum. Endless moans streaming from you both. Frankie cums for a long time. 

The picture really did a number on him.

Ropes of his spend coats your sex and your belly. Unable to control yourself, you reach down and swipe two fingers through his cum and lick them clean. Relishing the delicious, salty taste of your husband. Frankie groans as he sees you suck your fingers clean, gathering cum on his fingers and stuffing it back into your cunt. You moan around your fingers at the feeling of his thick, long fingers stuffing you full of his cum.

Releasing your fingers with a pop, Frankie pounces on you - his fingers brushing against your lips, prying your mouth open. You suck them into your mouth, an animalistic groan rumbling from within you as you taste the combination of you two. He removes his fingers, adjusting himself to pin you down, caging you in between his large biceps.

He dives in for a kiss, it’s slower - savoring the taste of you and him on your tongue as he soaks in the love which radiates off your body and into his soul. “Love you so much, mi vida. Para siempre (Always),” he whispers against your lips. You cup his cheeks, a soft smile on your lips as your eyes glimmer with contentment and love.

“Para siempre,” you repeat. Another firm, lingering kiss is pressed to your lips before he rises to his feet, padding to your shared bathroom. The faucet turns on, your usual routine of aftercare beginning. Frankie returns with the warm rag, gently cleaning you up.

“Frosted your cookie pretty good, huh?” He asks with a smirk on his lips, curls in disarray.

You bark out a belly laugh, unable to control your laughter at your husband’s stupid joke.

“Francisco!” You squeal. Frankie tsks and rolls his eyes. “Oh after all the shit we just did, that’s where you draw the line?!” He playfully asks, a toothy grin on his face.

“No, I just thought you forgot about that stupid note!” You say through your laughter, Frankie bursting into a fit of giggles with you. “Wasn’t stupid, and how could I ever forget that and that picture?” He asks as he continues to clean you up.

“Speaking of, I’m not even gonna question when and how you took that picture, but next time, I’m helping you,” he says as he rises up and walks back into the bathroom to discard the rag into the laundry basket. “Whatever you say, mi amor,” you tease from the bed.

He returns, playfully pouncing on the bed beside you. Another fit of giggles erupts from you.

“That’s right, baby. Whatever I say,” he says with a wink and a smile, interlacing your fingers with his - toying with your wedding ring as he places a chaste kiss to your lips before saddling up beside you.

i love husband!Frankie sm 😫😔

wrote this on a bit of a whim, i had no idea what i wanted to do, i just knew i wanted to write a lil christmasy somethin-somethin for y'all 🩷

i hope y'all enjoyed!!! thank you for reading 🫶🏼

tag list: @nostalxgic @sweetercalypso @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @joelsgreys @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @tinygarbage @mandoisapunk @javierpena-inatacvest @pedgito @tupelomiss @pedrostories @harriedandharassed

#nini’s 500 follower celebration #happy frankie friday #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #husband!frankie

[floralpascal]

The Heart’s Flame, Chapter 1: The New Owner

Summary: When a new owner buys the house next to Fire Station 133, Frankie is tasked to be the welcoming party. However, he didn’t quite expect the new owner to be a gorgeous woman like yourself.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical description)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Rating: PG (series is Mature & Explicit though, so minors do not interact)

Warnings: None, just Frankie with a big crush

A/N: I’m so excited to introduce you all to these two! Ugh I’ve been obsessed with writing this the past week. Please note that I don’t know all that much about firefighting, so expect some inaccuracies there.

In the decade Frankie had spent as a firefighter and wildfire helicopter pilot at Station 133, a kind and quiet elderly couple — Mr. and Mrs. Henry — had lived in the house next to the station. They had loved living next to it and loved the firefighters that worked there. As the only house in the vicinity, they had painted their front door red in solidarity long before Frankie joined the station. It had been a surprise for everyone when the news broke that they were selling the house and moving to Italy for their retirement. A few of the firefighters had helped the couple move their things into the moving vans before bidding them goodbye. Then, they watched for any signs of a new owner for the small house. Weeks went by until last Thursday when an unfamiliar black Jeep showed up and warm yellow light came from the windows of the house.

The Jeep came and went from the house but with the positioning of the house and the entryway, no one was able to get a good look at the new owner.

The firefighters debated for four days over when one of them should go over there to introduce themselves, as it was important for the station to establish a good relationship with the mystery owner as soon as possible. Finally, after a rather heated debate with the firefighters on duty today, Frankie won the role of greeting the newcomer by virtue of being the best baker out of them all. Granted, with his main rivals being Benny, Will, and Santi, it was inevitable.

“Twenty bucks says it’s another retired couple,” Benny bet the guys as Frankie took a pan of cookies out of the oven.

The one upside to working 24 hour shifts was that the station had to have a full kitchen. Half of the room made up the nice but cluttered kitchen while the other half was occupied by a large table. Huge windows lined the wall behind the table, the little house visible to the left of the station.

The guys had all packed into the kitchen the moment Frankie started the cookies. Benny leaned against the kitchen counter to Frankie’s right. Will sat in a seat at the table behind him as he nursed a cup of coffee a few feet away from where Santi sat on the corner of the table with his arms crossed.

While Frankie and Will simply shook their heads at Benny, Santi scoffed. He retorted, “No, man. I say it’s a hot single woman. The house is right next to the fire station, she gets to watch all the fine men and women in uniform from the porch. It’s a good deal.”

“Are you kidding?” Benny asked. He gestured in the direction of the little house. “Look at that place. It screams retirement.”

Santi waved a hand at him dismissively. “It’s not about how the house looks, it’s about the view.”

Benny went to argue, but Frankie cut him off.

“This,” Frankie sighed as he packed the warm cookies into a tub, “is exactly why I’m going and you two aren’t.”

“Oh, come on, Fish,” Benny appealed to him. “You know as well as I do that it’s gonna be some retired folks.”

Frankie really did agree with Benny on this one, but he refused to tell him that. The house was well past its prime and clearly a relic from the 80s, two-toned white and brown. Confusingly, it also had a faded red roof — that Frankie wondered if had once matched the door — and light wood accents for patios in the front and back of the house. In all honesty, it was a little ugly. It was like bad design had met bad taste and poor aging. He didn’t think anyone would really find it appealing, but it definitely didn’t look like a place a stunning bachelorette would want to buy.

Benny pointed at his brother and tried to appeal to him, too. “Will, who do you think is right?”

Will shook his head with disinterest before taking a sip of coffee from his mug. “Nope. I’m not humoring you two.”

Frankie chuckled as Benny complained and urged Will to side with his baby brother.

As Frankie packed up the tub of cookies and its accompanying Welcome to the neighborhood! card from the station, Santi gave him a sly, confident smile. “We’ll see who’s right.”

Frankie made his way out of the station, feeling oddly anxious about the newcomer. Would they be as nice as the last owners were? Would they allow the station to use part of their lawn as extra parking space for the charity cookout they hosted every summer? Would they put up with Santi blasting rock music with the bay doors open? Were the newcomers ready to put up with lights and sirens coming from the station at all hours of the day?

Finally, reaching the little house, Frankie ascended the old rickety stairs that led to the worn deck. When he reached the faded fire engine red front door, he knocked. Shifting the plastic container of freshly-baked cookies to one hand, he quickly adjusted his navy uniform.

He hadn’t been particularly anxious about the new owners until now. He hadn’t really realized how incredible the last owners had been as neighbors. They didn’t just put up with the station — and some of the firefighters’ antics — they adored the station. Mr. and Mrs. Henry always wanted to help out however they could. But now, with them gone, it dawned on Frankie that not everyone would like living next to a station or want to participate in what they did.

Shuffling from behind the door pulled Frankie from his thoughts. The door swung open and—

Oh. Oh, this was not a retiree.

Frankie had rejected Santi’s prediction so swiftly and thoughtlessly that he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. You were gorgeous. You were clad in shorts and a baggy black Queen tank top, peering at him questioningly.

“Hi,” you greeted cautiously. “Can I… help you?”

It was like Frankie’s world had been turned upside down.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to shake himself from his stupor. “Um, I’m Frankie. Frankie Morales. From the fire station.”

You cracked a small smile as you looked down at his uniform. “I see that.”

“We, um, wanted to welcome the new owner to the neighborhood,” he explained, raising the tub to make his point. “That is, if you are the new owner.”

A full smile broke out across your face, brighter than any fire he had seen. “I am.”

He reciprocated your smile as you told him your name. When he offered the tub with the attached greeting card to you, you graciously accepted it.

Eyeing the card, you said, “This is so sweet! I have to admit, I didn’t know if I would actually get to meet any of you.”

“Are you kidding? We were all dying to meet our new neighbor. I was the lucky guy who won the job.”

It eased Frankie’s nerves when he saw you suppress a bashful smile at that — a crack in the easy confidence that seemed to roll off of you.

“I didn’t know you all would care so much,” you said, almost to yourself.

Oh, Frankie had been interested before. Now he cared. And he imagined some of the single guys and girls at the station might, too.

“Of course we do,” Frankie insisted. “We want you to feel good about the neighborhood. If you ever need anything — anything at all — you can always come to the station.”

“If my house ever catches fire, I expect an incredible response time from you all,” you teased.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a theatrical nod.

Laughing, you beckoned him with your free hand. “Come on in, Frankie. I’m afraid it’s kind of a mess in here right now.”

Still trying to ignore the fast thrum of his heartbeat, he crossed the threshold and followed you into the house. The door led straight into the living room — or what had once been a living room. The carpet had very obviously been ripped out, pieces of flooring missing at one edge of the room. Wallpaper had been torn off of all the walls, evidenced by the one wall that still had half of its gaudy wallpaper — yellow diamonds on a white background. Paint buckets sat in a huddle by the corner. Other painting and remodeling supplies littered the edges of the room, making the place look less like a house and more like a construction site.

As you took the tub of cookies to what seemed to be the kitchen, you called, “This place is in need of a serious overhaul. It’ll take a couple months to even get this place to where I can actually move in.”

Frankie eyed a nail gun which sat next to a table saw. “Are you… are you doing the renovations all by yourself?”

You appeared in the walkway again, opting to lean on the doorframe with your arms crossed and an easy smile on your face. “What? Don’t think a girl can do it?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide. “No, no! Just impressed, actually. This looks like a lot for just one person.”

“I grew up helping out on different house renovation projects,” you explained.

“Is that why you bought this house?” Frankie asked. But even as he asked, he already knew that it was. It wasn’t the reason that Santi predicted a pretty woman like you would buy the house. The answer was even simpler than that. “You wanted a fixer-upper?”

You nodded a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. “It’s more fun to work for it.”

Frankie thought that he may just die then and there. How the hell could he have gotten so lucky for the most perfect woman on earth to move in right next to the station?

Trying desperately to sound like a caring neighbor and not a guy with a quickly-forming crush, he made an offer he would forever be thankful he made. “Well, if you ever need any help, just let me know. I’m pretty handy myself. Just tell me what to do.”

You nodded, a sweet smile on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind, Frankie. You know, when Mr. Henry said you firefighters were a sweet bunch, I didn’t quite picture any as sweet as you.”

Your words were like gasoline on the burning flames of his quickly intensifying crush. He fought to find his words once again before settling on, “Mr. Henry told you about us?”

You nodded, pushing off the wall to move closer to him. Frankie fought to keep his eyes on your face and not your gorgeous form. You gestured in the direction of the station. “He told me all about you guys. He wanted to make sure that the new owner understood what living next to you guys would entail. Obviously, I was okay with that. Before he let me buy the house, though, he made me promise to continue helping you guys with your cookouts. Apparently, it’s a big deal and I need to provide parking and some kind of side dish.”

Frankie laughed, looking out of the living room window that faced the station for a moment. “The Henry’s were always good to us. It’s good to know they were looking out for us, too. And, uh, the side dish is optional. You’re always invited to the cookouts as a guest. The Henry’s just always wanted to be involved.”

You tilted your chin up at him. “Then maybe I want to be involved, too.”

Frankie tried to tamp down how badly he wanted that — to have you there at the cookouts. To talk you, get to know you more, ask you to dance with him. Instead, he said, “We would all really appreciate that.”

You chuckled. “Then count me in. I’ll be there. As long as all of the other firefighters are as nice as you are.”

“Most of them,” Frankie chuckled, a hint of nerves in his voice.

Then, it got quiet for a moment, awkwardness pressing in. In a desperate attempt to get rid of it, Frankie blurted, “Would you like to come see the station? I’m sure everyone there would love to meet you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Really, it wouldn’t be a bother.”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Oh, what the hell. Let’s do it.”

Frankie tried not to beam. He had a little more time to be with you, to get to know you. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could even convince you to stay for dinner at the station.

As you led him out of your house and out into the sunkissed day, he couldn’t help but hope that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Girls' night

Summary: It's been a while since you went out with the girls. One of your friends telling you about a Tik Tok challenge she saw about having sex with your partner every single day for a month leaves you even more confused when your friend tells you how hard it has been for her to have that much sex every single day. A problem you definitely not have since meeting and marrying Frankie.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (unprotected sex, ass play, masturbation, public sex, car sex) fluff, alcohol, married life, drunk horny reader, humorous

A/N: I have read this fic so often the words are becoming meaningless to me lol Hope you enjoy though!

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It had been a good while since your last girls night out. 

Life happened and in what felt like a matter of years almost all of your friends got married or had kids. It’s why you were looking forward to today. You hadn’t seen most of the girls since Emily’s wedding. 

You had spent the last hour getting ready. Taking a long shower, shaving your legs (and… everything else because you felt like it), moisturising. Now you were standing at the sink, putting the finishing touches to your make up, your lips lined sinfully red. 

Rubbing your lips against some tissue to set the colour you heard a whistle from behind you, your eyes finding your husbands in the mirror as he leaned in the doorway. 

“You look… fuck I am so lucky you married me,” Frankie grinned as he walked over to you, his arms wrapping around you from behind, crowding you against the sink. 

“Mhhh you just say that because my boobs are out,” you hummed, reaching for some lotion, to massage it into the soft skin of your breasts, when his hands stopped you, reaching for the lotion himself. He put some on his hands before he slowly began to rub it into your skin, squeezing your breasts softly, his lips kissing your shoulder. 

“You caught me,” he murmured with a smile against your skin, kissing himself up your neck, his hands making sure to massage the lotion thoroughly into your breasts, his fingers playing with your nipples. His beard was scratching over your skin and you sighed, leaning back against him, closing your eyes. 

Frankie and you got married almost two years ago. And you were still waiting for the honeymoon phase to be over. All of your friends who got married told you that reality set in more quickly than they thought, telling you you had to actively work on your marriage every single day. Some even were glad to get out of the house for a couple hours just to get away from them. 

It wasn’t like that with you and Frankie. 

If your wedding changed anything between you, it only made you closer. 

“How long until you have to leave?” he hummed. You looked at your phone. 

“25 minutes?” you sighed, tilting your head to give him more space, his lips wandering up. 

“More than enough time to make you cum,” he playfully bit into your neck, his hands pulling at the towel that was wrapped around your hips, letting it fall to the ground, leaving you completely naked and making you giggle.

He groaned, both of his hands resting on your hips as he rubbed his bulge against your ass. 

“Can’t ruin my make-up though, think you can do that?” you asked. 

“That’s okay,” he cooed and you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him. You felt his fingers between your legs, dipping between your folds..

“Gonna ruin this pussy instead,” he winked before he kissed you.

You were…. Fashionably late. Frankie had driven you into the city, kissing you goodbye and making you promise to call him no matter how late it would get to pick you up. He’d meet up with the Miller brothers to watch some sports game you were definitely not interested in. 

You got out of the car, looking over your shoulder to find him winking at you before you turned away and walked towards the bar, feeling him dripping into your panties. The glow on your skin was definitely his doing. 

You found your friends deep in the back of the bar, drinks already in front of them.

“There you are!” one of them said with a grin before all four of them got up to hug and welcome you. 

“Sorry for running late, next round is on me,” you said with a smile once you sat down. 

“Yeah. Why are you late?”

You grinned to yourself. 

“Frankie had to… show me something,” you said, grabbing the menu as they all snickered. 

“Was he successful?” 

You looked up and smirked. 

“He always is,” you winked, making them holler, before you ordered a martini. 

“Jack and I are doing this challenge I saw on tik tok,” your friend Emily said almost two hours later. You were pleasantly buzzed, currently chewing on some garlic bread sticks you already had ordered to take some home later for Frankie. 

“What kind of challenge?” Char, to your left, asked. 

“Sex everyday for one month,” Emily said and sighed as if exhausted. You grabbed your glass to drink something to hide your frown at her reaction. 

“Shit. Every day?” Char asked. Emily nodded. 

“We’re at week two and I am exhausted,” she sighed and all the women around you snickered. 

“Ben and I could never. Not with three kids around,” Char said, Tanja nodding beside her. 

“Once a week is already a challenge. And I’m so fucking tired all the time. I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep on you all,” Tanja laughed and you nodded. 

Once a week?

A challenge to have sex every day?

Didn’t Emily only get married at the end of last year?

People challenged themselves for sex and were… exhausted? Meanwhile here you were,  trying to remember the last day you hadn’t had sex with Frankie…

Even when you were on your period you two were just like a bunch of horny teenagers.

The last time the two of you didn’t have sex was probably when he was teaching flight students in another state and had been gone for a week. That was months ago. But since then… You may not have him inside of you every day but you were intimate. Every single day. Sometimes more than once.

You had zoned out of the conversation, almost jumping when you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“You okay?” Char asked. You nodded slowly. 

“What about you?” Emily asked. 

“What about me?” you asked. 

“You’ve been married for two years, right?” You smiled as you nodded. 

“So how often do… you and Frankie….”

“She wants to know how often you get laid,” Tanja asked and you chuckled nervously. 

“I mean we all know you got some just before you got here, but like…”

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Honestly?” you asked.

They all nodded. 

“Frankie and I don't need a month-long challenge to have sex every single day,” you winked and they all stared at you before they giggled. 

Frankie was already outside waiting when you all stumbled out of the bar. You said your goodbye’s, ignoring the whistles behind you as Frankie got out of the car to open the passenger's seat for you. You pulled your arm behind his neck to kiss him, making him chuckle against your lips while he pulled you closer, walking you back until your back was pressed against the car.. 

“Hey baby,” he mumbled with a grin before he helped you into the car. He had offered to drive your friends home too, but they had already gotten an uber since they were living on the other side of town. 

“Had fun?” Frankie asked, taking your hand once he started the car and pulled out of the parking space. You nodded, bringing his hand up to kiss the back of it. 

“They think we’re strange,” you mumbled and Frankie looked at you with an amused smile. 

“Why?”

“Because we have too much sex. Apparently.”

“What?” he laughed. 

“Em and her husband are doing a month long daily sex challenge and she already hates it even though they’re only two weeks in. Two weeks!” you cried out in disbelief. 

“Hey nothing against a healthy sex life. If they don’t like it, they don’t. I happen to like sex and find my wife very sexy,” he leaned over at the next red light, kissing you. You smiled, sighing against his lips. 

“I love you, so so much baby. You are so cute and sexy and you have the bestest cock,” you cooed with a dreamy grin and he laughed. 

“The bestest?” he asked.

“Out of everyone on this planet,” you nodded and he grinned.

“I love you too, my tipsy wife,” he chuckled, taking your hand to press his lips to the back of it. 

“Not tipsy,” you pouted. 

“No?”

“No. I’m sooooo drunk. Drunk and so fucking horny baby,” you sighed, one of your hands slowly pulling your skirt up. 

“I still have all your cum in my panties. I’m such a whore,” you giggled, your fingers slowly pulling down your panties. You grabbed them from the floor, throwing them at Frankie.

“Fuck baby. We’ll be home in ten minutes. Think you can wait that long?” Frankie asked. You turned your head to look at him as your hand slipped between your legs. 

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head, your fingers playing with yourself. 

A honk behind you made Frankie jump, before he took a deep breath and began to drive.

Sucking your bottom lip in you pushed two fingers inside of you, moaning quietly.

“Shit, baby…” Frankie cursed, his head focused on the road, his eyes peeking to you every couple seconds or so, the vein on his neck almost pulsing.

“Let me taste….” he groaned and you grinned, bringing your soaked fingers to hip mouth, pushing your fingers between his lips. He moaned. 

You let your other hand linger on his crotch, slowly unbuckling his belt. 

The car stopped and he killed the engine. You looked around finding yourself in what looked like the woods. Not that you cared where you were. You just wanted….

“Get on top of me,” Frankie ordered. He pulled his seat back before he pushed his pants down to reveal his hard cock. Within seconds you were in his lap, your hand reaching for his cock to line him up as you sank down on him, both of you groaning in relief.

“That what you needed?” he hummed, as you released a content moan. His hands were on your hips, his lips against your throat as you closed your eyes, enjoying that first delightful stretch of his cock inside your walls. 

He thrusted up into you and you opened your eyes, your lips parting before you looked down at him. You pulled his cap from his head, your fingers running through his hair before you leaned down to kiss him deeply. 

You pulled your arms around his neck while you slowly began to move on top of him. 

Your right knee was digging into something against the car door and your head was bumping against the roof everytime you moved, but you didn’t care. 

“Make yourself cum on my cock baby,” Frankie pulled at the front of your dress, revealing your bra. His lips closed around the lacy material over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. 

“Make yourself cum so I can drive you home and take my time with you…” his hands were now on your ass, kneading the flesh as you rode him. 

“Gonna eat your pussy until you beg me to stop….” he bit into your breast and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from crying out. 

“And when you beg me for my cock I’m gonna cum in this sweet perfect pussy….” he moved his hips, thrusting up into you and you moaned, arching your back, your head falling back. 

“Or maybe you don’t want me to cum in your pussy but in your tight little ass,” you felt one of his fingers rub over your puckered hole.

“Oh shit….” you cried out.

“Cum for me baby…” he hummed and you looked down at him, meeting his eyes all while he moved his hips to meet yours. 

“Cum for me and I’ll fuck your ass once we’re home,” he cooed and even though you had felt your orgasm building for the last minutes, you were surprised how hard you came just seconds after.

“Shit you’re so tight when you cum….” he groaned, his arms now pulling you close against his chest, holding you upright as you shook through your orgasm. 

You let your head fall against his neck, breathing him in deeply, feeling him still hard deep inside of you as he waited for you to come down from your high. 

“I really love your cock,” you mumbled with a smile and he laughed. 

“I love all the rest of you even more,” you added, finally looking at him.

“I love you too,” he smiled softly, kissing your nose. 

“You didn’t cum,” you noticed and he smirked. 

“Told you, I’m gonna cum in your ass baby,” he kissed you and you sighed against his lips. 

You stayed in his arms for some minutes more before he carefully helped you off his lap and back into the passenger's seat. You pulled your dress up while he managed to put his pants back on. 

“Don’t you fall asleep on me until we’re home,” he teased, kissing you softly before pulling the seat back and turning on the engine, beginning to drive home. 

He wasn’t even back on the road when you fell asleep. 

How you got into the house and into bed was very blurry but you woke up in the early morning hours in his arms in your bed. 

Deciding to wake him up in a couple of hours with your mouth around his cock.

#my fic #Frankie morales #frankie morales x female reader #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #francisco morales