#frankie morales x y/n

[undercoverpena]

up sky, low high

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie morales masterlist

summary: frankie takes you on a heli-ride. you decide to test his competency and take him for a ride.

word count: 1.9k warnings: smut. 18+. there's mouth to cock action in the sky - new kink for jo? maybe. jo's interpretation of how to fly a heli is deffo a warning in itself. everyone is safe. remember he's a professional, but don't try this in the air bbys. jo’s spelling—written on phone, forgive me. moodboard not reflective of reader. an: this wouldn't be possible without @morallyinept who not only thotted with me, told me to write this, filled me with confidence at the halfway point when i sent it to her but also made the prettiest banner and moodboard for this (see at the bottom). babe ily, thank you so much for this.

It’s not ideal—not even close to safe.

Finger pushing in on the button that releases the elements of your seatbelt as you swallow, staring at him. Gawking, in fact.

Frankie always looks good, a fact not fiction.

Whether it’s first thing in the morning, sleep in his eyes—fingers scratching over his soft stomach as he yawns. Or when his eyes are hidden under the bill of his hat, dark, all mahogany brown pupils blown with lust as the thing on the television becomes forgotten.

And while he does always look incredible, there’s something criminal about the way he looks right now. Piloting, all in his element, wearing fucking competency like he was the one who first birthed it as he keeps the helicopter in the air.

Short flight, he’d said when he’d helped you into the rental.

Now, you could bet on it.

Because you're not even sure how long you’ve been in the air, too busy gazing, hungrily undressing him as he flicks switches and checks gauges. Your understanding of what he was doing lost, barely reaching a basic level.

What you do know is that if he reaches over, slides his hand up your dress and touches the fabric covering your pussy, he’d find them soaked.

But then, he’d also likely notice the way you’re taking shallow breaths, that you’ve been squirming for friction for the past so many instructions—

Because of his voice.

It all low, husky—dragged through gravel when it comes through the headset. Pointing out sights, places, but he’s the only thing you want to gaze at from this height. From any height.

That’s why the thought had arrived, to begin with, the lucrative one. The one so far gone that you try not to consider logistics and just trust in the fact he’d stop you if it was too unsafe. Your voice barely steady through the microphone, asking—layered and wrapped with demand, as your pulse quickens and your palms become slick with sweat.

You know the idea is ridiculous. Yet, somehow, you find yourself moving up onto your knees, digging them into the chair you’d just been seated on.

That’s when you see it. The glimmer, the spark, before he whines out that he’ll maintain altitude as you palm him over his cargo pants. Feeling him harden, pressing against the zipper, all thick, long and delicious as your mouth waters.

Because you need him in your mouth.

A thing you must murmur because suddenly he’s helping—lifting his hips as he whispers an oh fuck, when you drag his layers down and your hand wraps around his cock. More so when you move your wrist, dipping your head to slide your tongue to lick up the bead of want already there at the tip.

Flicking your gaze up, you find hungry eyes staring back—ones lit by the sun, shades a plenty making up the lust-filled gaze that makes your mouth open wider as you take as much of him as you can.

Fuck it’s glorious.

Both the thrum of vibrations through the cushion seat under your knees as he keeps the thing in the air and the feel of his hot length sliding against your tongue. As you take him. As you make him hiss through gritted teeth when you try to take a little more of him than you usually manage—tears springing in your eyes and your throat constricting around him—

“Careful, querida,” he soothes.

Large hand cupping the back of your head, easing, aiding, as his cock rests at the entrance of your mouth, placed perfectly on your lower lip. Breath coming back to you; eyes blinking as he darts his eyes from the world below him to you.

“You okay?”

Until now, you weren’t sure if it was possible to be more in love with him. Then he proved that even up in the air he thought of nothing but what was best for you.

Nodding, spit trailing down your chin, droplets falling to your chest where it pools as fabric meets skin, you smile. Gleam. Grin. Before making him swallow a moan as you take him again, his head falling back.

It’s then, when you hollow your cheeks do you feel him shift, allowing him, as he gently thrusts to slide his length as far down your throat as it allows. Good girl, so good, my good girl—

Humming around him at his praise, a blend of languages as he calls you pretty and perfect. And you can tell he’s close, taste it on your tongue as he begins to rock his hips, as he begins to hiss—teeth biting down on his lip, imagining his knuckles whitening around the cyclic stick.

It’s enough to make you come from the thought—close to ruining your own panties further as you press your thighs together.

Closing your lips around him, sucking and adorning, showing him, etching your love for him with the way your tongue swirls over the tip, hand gripping his thigh as he groans your name. It followed by s’close, m’close baby—

Then he pulls you off him, all with care. Spit connecting your lips to his tip as you stare at him in confusion. The line dropping, snapping—it clinging to the curls at the base of him, soaking his hair like dew on a spring morning.

“Frankie…”

It’s all you manage to croak out. Eyes wide, thoughts barely present, all cock-drunk and adrenaline-fuelled—the scent of him still there, around your nose, musk and engine oil.

“Need to land,” he replies, short, jaw tight—cock angry and throbbing between his thighs as he flicks a switch. “Can’t… can’t fuck you, unless I land.”

You’re not sure he’s ever landed so quickly, never mind so clunky. Remembering stories, how he gloats at his prowess at most of his land landings. But you have no time to question, think, or ask, before he pulls off his belt, headset and hat before reaching to yank you into his lap.

It’s clumsy—a mess of limbs, a tight squeeze as your hands skate around his neck. But you forget about it all when his mouth crashes to yours. Kissing you so hard and hungrily your teeth clash. His breath is hot in your mouth as he pants at the feel, likely tasting himself as he slips his tongue into yours.

And it’s warm, his tongue. Licking into your mouth, large hands around your waist brushing your clothed core against his cock—the hiss reverbing down your throat as you swear you feel him shake. Tremble. So desperate for you that it makes him quiver.

You love kissing him.

Could spend hours doing it. Not caring about jaw aches when you’re tangled up with him. Like right now. In some field, in some place—

“Need t’fuck you, baby. Can I fuck you please?” he asks, voice low, but tinged with a plea.

His hand balls up your dress, the other hand hooking a finger in to pull your soaked underwear from your pussy before groaning at the sight. “Hold them for me, baby.”

Swallowing, smiling—you do. Lifting, nudging yourself closer as your knees screech on the leather as you become full of molten hunger. Hovering over him as he eases the head of his cock to your slick entrance, sliding it through your folds, eyes focused on you.

“Can’t wait.”

“Then, don’t,” you whisper.

Then he hisses as he pushes in, right between his teeth. One that’s born at the back of his throat and makes an entrance into the air. Cuts. Slices. The sound so fucking hot that you clench around him when he bottoms out—mouth open in an O at how full, stretched and stuffed you feel.

“No te muevas—lemme feel you, baby. Fuck—”

Your smile widens—practically smirking. Shifting on him as the hand on your waist tightens its hold. But, you’re not listening. Even less so when you press an open-mouth kiss to his skin as you begin to move, to slowly slide your pussy up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, querida—feel so—good—incredible. Tu perfecto. Made for me, you know that…”

It’s layered—all in a breath; you answer similarly when you say that you do. Practically pressing it into the air as you pant, resting your forehead on his shoulder, as the two of you are quick to find a pace.

It’s almost drowned by how wet you are, how loud it is when he begins to thrust up into you. All aching for one another, practically feral as you feel your slick clings to your inner thighs—likely smudging against his skin as your fist clenches at his shirt. Clit brushing against the tangle of coarse hair, you’re soaking, that makes you dizzy as he begins to fuck up into you.

All deep thrusts. Making you moan—feeling nothing but good. Perfect. Amazing.

Just how he always makes you feel this way. Every, single, time—

“Need you to come, baby,” he strains, rasps, groans as you feel his hand—all expert, calloused in the right places—snake between the two of you.

It’s there, trying to disguise between letters: desperation. Despair. His touch confirms it, finding your bundle of nerves as he makes you gasp, arch, tighten around him as your hand finds refuge on the back of his neck. Your fingers slide into his sweat-soaked curls, smearing against your fingers as you clutch, grip and grasp.

And you’re aware of it now. How the cabin is warmer—windows likely smothered in perspiration—but it’s nothing compared to the heat of your body. It licks at your neck, at the base of your spine, the backs of your thighs that meet your calves.

But you’re lost in it, in him. Wanting nothing more than to come; unable to speak from how much you want to. More so as his hips cant up into you, as you begin to see white in the corner of your vision—as your body becomes more fire than bone.

Tightening around him as he shifts, an angle that makes you see fucking stars as you whine his name like it’s made of one syllable.

“—that’s it, querida. Fuck, s’good for me, I love—“

It building, so near to snapping as you hear him babbling, rambling. Your mouth is just open against his neck, moaning—the noise slipping out of you as it slams into you. His voice fading, the world going quiet as you come undone, all pulsing, all clenching down on him as it crests.

But his hips push you through it. Chasing, seeking. His pace is all sloppy, difficult, lost as you blink your eyes open to see the way his face is scrunched, lips over his teeth. And if you hadn’t just, you swear you’d come against from the sight.

That look of sheer determination, skin bathed in sweat before his eyes find yours—crystallising, glazed over and fucked out—

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper.

And his expression pauses. Relaxes.

Smooths.

His hand tightens on your hip, grunting out your name—burying it into the air as his hips stutter. Then, he whines. Spilling inside of you as he collapses back into the chair, you pressed against him, jaw all slack and his eyes clenched shut.

And you swear you can feel his heartbeat. It is all out of step with your own.

Not that you care.

Smiles painted on your faces as your eyes met his, breaths ragged, your finger wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

Before his lips slide back over yours, kissing you, writing gratitude against your mouth as the muscles in his neck flex under your palm.

an: look how pretty this issssssss. thank you so much, jett.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier fic #francisco catfish morales

[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

[joelsdagger]

let it flow | frankie morales x f!reader

read on ao3

pairing: sub!frankie x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 4.4k (i think something possessed me bc this was originally 1k lmao) summary: you start a new form of birth control which has many side effects but frankie takes advantage of one side effect in particular. warnings: canon divergent, established relationship (reader and frankie are married), sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, body worship, pet names, nipple play, mommy kink, lactation kink, mutual masturbation , praise kink, pre-ejaculation, overstimulation, cumplay, cum eating, fluff.  No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader. um i think that’s it? *scratches neck* disclaimer: this is literally for shits and giggles bc a friend and i were talking about sub!frankie having a lactation kink, but we weren’t feeling the whole pregnancy trope so i found a loophole hehe. after extensive research, i found that certain types of birth control that include progestin *can* increase lactation as well as breast enlargement and tenderness, so i tweaked this specifically for the purpose of this fic. i don’t study medicine so some of this isn’t 100% accurate so if anything is wrong just remember this is just for horny fun and i changed some things to fit what i was going for. if this piece is not for you, that’s cool, obviously not everyone is gonna be into the same stuff but please just move along and let everyone else enjoy the fun.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first fic i was so incredibly nervous about it but yall have been so so kind. technically, i told myself i would post this friday for frankie friday, but the longer shit stays in my drafts the more i start to hate it and the urge to scrape everything grows too strong lol. this one is for kat and lyss who gave me this idea and then we screamed about it til 1am. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo and @papurgaatika for beta’ing and literally always saving me bc i can never read my fics from start to finish so they always come thru during the editing process. and shout out to my pinterest QUEEN, @aurasjournal, for helping me with the visuals. thanks for reading i hope you like it <3 super cute divider by @saradika

You’re staring back at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, assessing your breasts, they’re full, heavy and they ache. This is the fourth day in a row of feeling the consequences of your new birth control and the pain has only gotten worse. “The shit we do….fuckin’ birth control,” you mumble under your breath. 

You had switched to a different form of birth control earlier in the week, the IUD route wasn’t working out so well for you. For starters, the pain of getting the IUD implanted was unbelievably excruciating and on top of that, you had ParaGard (the copper IUD) implanted which didn’t have hormones so you were still getting your period. Your periods were heavy and painful and you have been seeking an alternative solution to stop them completely. At your last visit with your gynecologist, you both agreed to switch you over to taking birth control pills. 

Your physician had informed you that the pill form was a progestin-only contraceptive that would decrease the bleeding during your menstrual cycle or possibly get rid of it completely if you skipped the placebo pills on the last week of your pack. There was one not-so-tiny problem, you were not told that being on the pill would make your tits swell and you sure as hell didn’t know the damn pill would make you lactate. 

Earlier today you practically sobbed to your doctor on the phone. 

“Doc, sorry to be blunt but my tits fucking hurt,” you cry, tears welling up in your eyes. At this point, the pain had become unbearable.

“That’s pretty normal hun, it’s a common side effect for some women. As I told you on Monday, the use of a hormonal birth control that contains progestin can increase the likelihood of producing breast milk even if you aren’t pregnant. It’s your hormones adjusting to the pill and it’s going to take your body three to four months to adjust,” your doctor explained.

‘Wait three to four months,” you shout, "Doc, you didn’t mention anything about that. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you ask rashly.

Your doctor hesitates, “Well, we could go back to the copper IUD but then-”

“Then, I’d get my period yeah absolutely not,” you frantically cut her off.

“We could book you to come back in and try another route but I’m booked until the end of the month,” she suggests. 

“Of course you are, you’re like the only nice physician in the office, everyone wants to see you,” you laugh bitterly.

“There is something else that may help until we can see you in the office...many women have said that it helps,” she says.

You cross an arm around your chest, wincing slightly as your arm presses tightly against your chest, before dropping your arm back down at your side, “Okay…what is it?”

“You could massage them or have your husband stimulate your nipples,” she says nonchalantly. 

“Stimulate my nipples?” you hesitate, your eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“Yes, have him use his fingers or-”

“You’re not serious?”

Your doctor chuckles at your curiosity, “Yes, nipple stimulation and other sensual activities, can trigger and release the hormone, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the love hormone. Once oxytocin is triggered, your hormone levels are boosted and then it increases arousal and stress relief. Once it's released into the bloodstream, it helps alleviate breast tenderness and breast pain as well assisting with the flow of breast milk so yes, it’ll help.” she says pointedly.

You stare ahead, wide eyed and mouth agape. What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

“Look honey, many women have come in and told me directly that it helps, believe it or not, it even helps induce labor, but that’s beside the point, many women have been in your position and they have reported that it works. So at least try this out, and see how it makes you feel, just until we can get you an appointment and have you come in and then we can try something else. Alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah alright, thanks again Doc,” you huff, your hand rubs at your temple before dragging it down your face. 

“No problem hun, keep me updated through the portal,” she says. 

“Will do,” you hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. 

That was six hours ago and now you’re standing in your bathroom as you wait for the bathtub to fill up. You read online that heat therapy could reduce some of the pain. While your husband was at work, you sprawled yourself out across the couch with a heating pad on your chest. It managed to ease the pain for a bit until the set timer turned the heating pad off and the second you stood up, the pain worsened again. 

To be honest, you’re a little embarrassed to bring it up to Frankie. It's not like Frankie won’t want to do it, he’d be very interested but what the hell are you supposed to say to him. Hey honey, my tits hurt and they’re leaking breast milk. Can you play with them a little so they feel better? He loves to engage in a little titty appreciation but this is a whole different ball game. You really aren’t in the mood to have this conversation with Frankie tonight, unsure of how he would react and possibly causing a bigger issue. 

You can hear the TV through the bathroom door, Frankie is watching some game. But when he hears you croak out in pain when you remove your bra, hands clutching at your swollen breasts, he moves lightning fast towards the bathroom door. 

“Querida, are you alright in there?” he asks through the door, his hand wrapped around the door handle.

You bite down on your lip, sighing before you finally bite the bullet and admit what’s going on. You crack open the door just enough so he can hear you better. 

“It’s-,” You let out another exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Remember, a few days ago, I went to my gynecologist and we decided to switch birth control methods?” He nods, eyes full of concern. 

“The pills are making my hormones go crazy and they’re making my tits swell and well…” you pull the door open to gesture towards your breasts. “I’m like a fucking pregnant woman but without the damn pregnancy,” you grumble. 

You immediately clock the worry on his face but Frankie can’t help the fact that he is practically salivating when he looks down at your tits. You notice his jaw slacken, his lips part as he takes in the curve of your breasts, they have grown a noticeable difference in size. You hear him inhale sharply when his stare drops to your nipples, dark and swollen. 

Suddenly feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, you bring a hand up to cover your breasts, he inhales once again before speaking, yet you speak before he does, “It’s fine, apparently a bath will help, and I’ve got the water running. I’ll be out in a few minutes babe,” you press, a tight smile on your face. 

You see it all over his face, he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. His big, deep brown eyes filled with worry. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he says quietly, eyebrows still raised. You can sense the uneasiness in his body language but he doesn’t press the subject. 

You thank him and shut the door, hearing him step back towards the bed. You slip off your panties and toss them into the hamper, then step into the hot water, sighing as you dip beneath the water.

After a few short minutes, you slowly bring your hands up to cup your breasts, experimentally kneading them. You press your hands more firmly and you bite down on your lip as you try to muffle a quiet moan. Huh. It does help. You continue toying with them until the water is no longer warm and your fingers become pruny. 

Dragging yourself out of the water and stepping out of the tub, you pull the plug out, the water spinning through the drain. Leisurely, you dry yourself off, pull a thin white tank top over your head, and drag a clean pair of blue lace panties over your legs. 

As you open the door to let the steam out of the bathroom, you grab your fuzzy robe from the hook behind the door, wrap it around your damp body, and head into the bedroom to catch the rest of the game with your husband. 

Yet, to your surprise, you find the TV off and instead see Frankie sitting up in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other holding his phone as he squints at the screen. 

You chuckle as you walk over to your nightstand. “Thought you were supposed to be wearing your glasses?” You tease, your lips forming into a smile.  

“I look dorky with ‘em, ‘sides I don’t need them right now,” he mimics your tone and turns his head to watch as you pump some of your cocoa butter body lotion into your hand and work it into your skin.  

“So, I did some googling,” he starts, a sly smirk creeping up onto his face as he continues, “It said…messaging them and sucking on them would help.��� His eyes are still on the bare parts of your damp skin, completely enamored by how your skin looks in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You tense, hands freezing, streaks of lotion yet to be fully rubbed into your skin, “Baby, that’s ridiculous,” you laugh him off. 

“No, I’m serious look,” Frankie sits up and moves across the bed, holding out his phone for you to read the article he was studying beforehand.

“I don’t know about this Frankie,” you shake your head, frowning while you avert your eyes from his. 

“Come here,” smirking devilishly as he brings his hands up to your arms, pulling you towards the bed. 

“Frankie–” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

He tilts his head up to look up at you with those big brown eyes that you often find difficult turning down. “Trust me,” his hands rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.  

“You know I do, Frankie, the hell did I marry you for,” you tease, you sneak your hands behind his neck and interlock your fingers as you lean down and press a soft kiss to his head.   

“Then c’mere, let me help,” he whispers and it sounds more like a plea. He’s pulling you down onto the bed, guiding you to sit up against the pillows. His hands find your robe, untying the knot in the soft belt across your waist. You lean forward slightly while he pulls your robe off slowly,  his eyes watching your face, searching for any indication to stop but he doesn’t find any. 

He tosses the robe behind him on the bed as he leans down over you, nudging your legs open as he settles himself between your legs. He brings his hands back up to the thin material of your tank top, cupping your tender breasts in his large hands. 

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, fuck–, so pretty baby,” he babbles lowly, goosebumps erupt on your skin, even after years of being married to him he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel so desirable. 

He gently squeezes your breasts, his thumb sweeps over your nipple back and forth, you whine softly as your hands find his hair, burying your fingers in his curls. It hurts but it’s pleasurable, the pressure he’s using feels better than what you were doing earlier in the bath. 

Frankie pinches your covered nipples between his rough fingers, hardening under his touch, you hiss when he tweaks them tightly, Frankie pauses, his eyes meet yours for a moment, “it’s okay–feels good, keep going,” you whisper to him. 

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples and sucks it through the material with his other hand still fondling your other nipple. “Fuck– that feels good Frankie,” you moan, he whimpers lowly and feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth falls open and he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder around your nipple. 

His mouth lets go of your breast, you look down to see the wet patch that formed over your peaked-covered nipple before he hastily pulls the tank top over your head, tossing it onto the floor, Frankie lets out a shameless groan when his eyes hungrily lock on your bare chest like a missile to a target. 

He leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your breast. You feel the warmth of his breath over your breast, a tingling sensation sneaks down your body. His hot mouth closes around your pebbled nipple. 

“Shit, Frankie,” you arch further into his mouth, and he moans and his tongue flicks up against your peaked nipple, and then he bites down softly, his eyes open, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Frankie feels a slight warm gush fill his mouth, his eyes slip closed, whimpering around the bud. 

You tug on Frankie’s hair, pulling his mouth away from you, your stomach twisting at his reaction when he feels the gush of liquid filling his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

“Baby, hey, it’s okay. I was just surprised-” 

“No I know, it’s just gross,” you frown, feeling the pang of embarrassment in your belly.

“It’s not–it’s not gross. I–I liked it,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“Really?” you ask softly. 

He laughs lightly and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another just below your jaw. His beard scraping along your skin as he places wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, all the way down past your collarbones until he reaches the valley of your breasts once again.

“Relax baby, I got ya,” he whispers against your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your head falls back against the headboard, and your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, petting at his long brown curls. He ducks down to bring his mouth to your nipple, he parts his lips around the bud, his tongue circling around the bud a few times, licking at your nipple, he closes his lips and sucks softly before tugging it between his teeth, he hums around it, making you grasp at the sheets beneath you, a low ache building in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it baby boy,” you say softly, petting his hair. You open your eyes when you feel him press his cock against your leg, his cock stirring in his boxers at your praise. 

He’s loving this, loves the taste of you and loves how good he’s making you feel. 

His hand palms your other breast, squeezing and kneading the meat of your tit, beads of milk collecting at the peak. He takes your nipple in between his calloused fingers and pinches it harder between his index and middle finger, the milk pours out from the bud down his hand and onto his forearm. 

Frankie feels the warm liquid on his arm, his mouth letting go of your breast, his pupils full of lust never leaving your face as he lifts his left hand up and licks a long slow, thick stripe from his forearm up his hand. Your mouth falls open and your chest heaves at the sight. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he groans, his eyes closing at the taste of you. His cock twitches against your leg, now painfully hard in his boxers. 

He dips his head back down and licks up the milk leaking down your torso up to your nipple. He moans once his hot mouth latches around the stiff peak and his tongue swirls around it. He laps up the warm white liquid he’s sucking out of your breast. “There you go baby, just like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes and your head falls back against the headboard. 

One of his knees perches onto your leg, he grinds his cock against the meat of your thigh, he moans deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your breasts. “So, needy for me huh, baby boy,” you tut, gripping firmly onto his soft curls. 

He whines quietly, and unbeknownst to Frankie, he starts rutting his hard length against your leg in slow, shallow thrusts, you feel a rumble of a moan in his throat around your nipple. At the sudden movement, your head snaps up to see your husband getting himself off against your body, his teeth sinking into your breast. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, he’s insatiable and relentless and it makes your pussy pulse and clench around nothing. 

“Ohhh that’s it– good boy Frankie,” you moan breathlessly, feeling him suck harder on your breast with a deep groan.

You grab at Frankie’s hair again, your hand combs his hair back while tugging at his hair, gently pulling his head back and he whines loudly when you pull his mouth away from your breast. You catch a glistening sheen on his lips when you direct his head to your other breast. 

Your eyes meet his dark, blown out pupils as your thumb rubs his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. You thumb the bottom of his plump, soft lip, wiping the milk off of his mouth. Your thumb slips between his lips and you whisper, “Who’s my good boy?” 

He shivers beneath your touch, “I am,” he murmurs softly, his head resting down on your chest once again. Your hand cradles his head and you move your hand down along his head to cup his face.

You watch your husband’s eyes shut as he closes his mouth around your nipple and continues suckling from your breast, “Fuck– Frankie, keep going,” you pant into his hair, your hands still toying with his curls, eliciting another whine from him. 

He shifts and begins fucking himself into the mattress once again, seeking any type of friction possible. 

Watching your husband getting himself off to your body sends a sharp, hot spark of arousal down your spine straight to your core, your pussy throbbing and your panties now wet and sticky with your slick. 

You smirk and bring your lips down to his ear, whispering the word that you know lights a fire within him.  “You’re making mommy feel so good baby,” and Frankie whimpers, his mouth swallowing your breast whole, his hips grinding down faster into the mattress. 

“That’s it, baby, atta boy, such a good boy for mommy,” you coo into his ear. Frankie lets out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering and groaning when he feels himself spilling out all over the inside of his boxers. Your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at him, realizing he just came simply from putting his mouth on you. 

His hips shudder, occasionally jerking erratically, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he hisses from overstimulation, you continue whispering praises into his ears. 

While his mouth works on relieving your breast you take matters into your own hands, bringing your fingers down to your neglected cunt. You press your fingers into your covered slit, feeling the wetness of your pussy through the material before pushing your panties to the side. You move your fingers to your throbbing clit, circling eagerly while his tongue swirls over your nipple. 

He bites down on the bud a little more harshly, feeling another gush of warm liquid in his mouth, “tastes so good mi corozòn,” he whimpers against your breast, closing his eyes while his teeth nip at the wet bud. 

Feeling a cooling wetness from his eyes seeping onto your breast, you briefly look down to find tears stinging his eyes from the pleasure, the teeth marks on your nipples, your skin all wet and red from his mouth. 

He continues sucking at your breast, licking up the sweet taste of you into his mouth and moaning around your nipple, savoring the taste. 

You slip your fingers into your wet heat with a moan. “So good, Frankie, ohhh– you’re doing so well for mommy,” you gasp out while grinding your hips up into your own hand.  He whimpers, his cock twitches, throbbing lightly against the mattress, he’s getting hard just from hearing that word once again. 

Your other hand roughly tugs on Frankie’s soft locks, pushing his head further into you, swallowing more of your breast into his mouth. 

Frankie was too far gone to notice, but you realize he’s grinding himself into the bed once again, still moaning and whimpering into your tender flesh. You thrust your fingers into your pussy, timing them to Frankie’s thrusts into the bed, the wet squelch from your fingers thrusting in and out obscenely echoes in your bedroom. 

“That’s perfect, Frankie— don– don’t stop…shit. I’m so close–” You curl your fingers inside yourself, petting at the spongy spot deep inside while his teeth nip and lick and suck at your tit. 

You shout Frankie’s name as your back arches off the bed, legs shaking around Frankie’s body when your orgasm finally sweeps over you. 

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, moving fast to sit up and back on his knees, his hands making quick work of pulling off his underwear. His cock bobs up against the soft swell of his stomach. He hisses when he wraps a large hand around the girth and he thumbs the wide blunt of his tip smearing the beads of pearly white dribbling out from the slit. 

Your tongue pokes out, licking your bottom lip before biting down on the flesh. Your hands massage your breasts, your fingers pinching your erect, sensitive nipples under Frankie’s fucked out gaze. 

Desperately, he fists his cock over your figure. “Come, baby. Be a good boy and come for mommy,” you order him while staring into his eyes, dark and dilated, his mouth hanging open as he strokes his cock. 

Your low voice and your words are all he needs to bring him over the edge. The thrusting of his hips gets more erratic as he jacks his cock tighter in his hand and increases the pace, the wet, lewd slap from his strokes gets louder, his whimpers and pants filling the otherwise quiet room. 

“There you go, atta boy, give it to me Frankie, let it out," you encourage him softly. 

Your eyes watch the muscles in his soft belly tighten and his thighs tensing up, his moans growing louder and louder and louder, his eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck– mami,” a long drawn out, agonizing groan slipping past his lips, you watch as his cock twitches in his hand, his hips stammer as long, thick, warm ropes of cum paint your stomach. 

“That’s it baby, just like that, you did so good. So good Frankie,” you murmur. He opens his eyes and looks back down at you, still catching his breath while he watches the last of his cum spill onto your swollen breasts, he groans seeing the marks he’s left on your skin. Your tits are covered in splotches of red and teeth marks from his mouth, his come and the milk from your breasts leaking down your chest and onto your stomach. 

His hair is a mess, his pupils are blown out, he looks completely in a haze, utterly fucked out. You smirk up at him and click your tongue, “You made such a mess on mommy, Frankie.” 

His cheeks warm, the redness creeping down his neck and chest, he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, his hand scratching the back of his neck.  

You move your fingers down your stomach, gathering his cum onto your fingers, “Don’t get shy on me now, come here my love,” your other hand reaches for him.

He crawls up towards your side, you slip a coated finger into your mouth and you close your eyes and hum. Frankie curses quietly to himself, seeing your pearly-covered finger slipping into your mouth and back out devoid of sheen. 

You bring a finger up to his mouth, your fingertip pressing against his lips, “open,” you order. You take advantage of his jaw slackening, sticking your glossy finger into his mouth and his lips close around your digit. You feel his tongue flatten underneath your finger then swirls it around your finger as he sucks it clean, he closes his eyes, his brows furrow, and he moans at the salty taste. 

“See, I keep telling you, you taste good, sweetheart,” you smile down at him, tucking a single brown lock behind his ear. 

“You did so good for me baby, made me feel so good,” you tell him while holding his patchy-bearded face. He chuckles timidly before pressing his lips to yours, licking behind your teeth, tasting himself in your mouth and mumbles a faint I love you against your lips.  

Frankie pecks your lips again before sitting up and walking over to the bathroom. You hear him flick the light on and the tap turning on and off while your eyes drift shut. You feel the warm wet rag dragging across your tummy and your tits, and then down between your folds as he cleans you up with tenderness. 

You open your eyes again when you hear him pad off towards the bathroom once more, watching him toss the washcloth back in the bathroom before he tucks himself into your side and nuzzles his face into the valley of your breasts, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin.  

Frankie’s low voice breaks the comfortable silence, “Next time it hurts, you tell me cariño, ‘m more than happy to do that again,” he says shyly, feeling the smile on his face against your chest.

You fail to suppress your giggle, “Yeah, you enjoyed yourself didn’t you, sweet boy?” Your fingers run through his long soft brown curls, your fingertips grazing down his neck, a hint of sweat at the end of his hair along the back of his neck. 

“Mhm,” he hums, and you grin into his hair, pressing your lips to his messy curls, your eyelids heavy with sleep. He feels your fingers still, Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, “Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re not done mi vida, I still need to make you come again.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #sub!frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #noelle's workshop #noelle writes

[always-andromeda]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Frankie Morales x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3,038

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ After recruiting you to be his plus one for yet another wedding, Frankie can't help but ruminate on and regret the last one he brought you to.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Lolabee!! I'm super excited to finally share that I'm your secret Valentine!! I apologize in advance for posting this so late in the game; exam week has been super hectic. That being said, I decided to give myself a little bit of a challenge and write something for Frankie for the first time ever. I should preface this by saying that when I read your prompt for rom-com vibes, I immediately began filing through all of my favorite rom-coms. And since my current favorite is Plus One, this fic is very much inspired by it!! Happy late Valentine's Day!! (dt: @thelightsandtheroses) (divider credits: @cafekitsune)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ fluff with little bits of angst (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no physical description given to the reader except for the fact that she wears makeup, mentions of alcohol and references to the reader drinking, the slightest references to Frankie's past, this fic is almost entirely removed from the movie's canon (these characters are basically my paper dolls that I'm making do cute things<3), idiots in love, they tease each other, they go to a wedding, misunderstandings occur, but it all works out <3

“You’re bringing your own tissues this time, right?” Frankie called from where he sat at the edge of the bed. He’d slept in far worse places. But he could already feel new knots forming on top of the old ones in his back. Needless to say, he wasn’t looking forward to spending yet another night attempting to sleep on the dense hotel room mattress.

You replied from the bathroom, “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. I’m prepared.”

“You better be. Because you’re not using my tie to blow your nose again.”

If you were in the room, Frankie could’ve practically felt your glare burning a hole through him. But instead he only heard the clear exasperation in your tone when you answered, “I did not use your tie to blow my nose.”

“Might as well have…” he mumbled. Santi’s wedding had claimed that casualty. By the end of the ceremony you’d soaked his tie in tears and covered it with a fine layer of translucent powder from dabbing your face off. And as much as he teased, he hadn’t minded it. He hadn’t minded it any more than he’d minded the distant friends and relatives who’d assumed that you were his girlfriend. Which…wasn’t an insulting assumption by any means.

The next time – at Benny’s wedding – Frankie brought you tissues. He didn’t like to think about Benny’s wedding. But if there was one thing he was happy about, it was that he’d thought far enough ahead to bring them for you. He was glad to see your smile. To feel your arms wrap around him as you thanked him and told him he was such a sweetheart. He was also grateful for the Hawaiian sun; for the developing sunburn that had prevented you from seeing how much that one nickname made his cheeks flush in that moment.

Your head popped out of the bathroom doorway, your makeup only half done, to aim a smartass smile at him with your lined lips. “Hey, I like to think of it as a gift. You should too.”

“Your ability to cry at the drop of a hat?”

“You're damn right,” you said indignantly.

Frankie sighed, pushing his hair back for about the dozenth time. He then laid back on the bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “If we’re lucky, this is the first and last time you’ll need to worry about packing some to begin with. Will’s the last stop on the wedding train.”

The thought almost made him misty eyed. Within a few hours, he’d be the last single man in his crew. The last one awake at the sleepover. Eyes so wide they were practically ablaze staring through the uncertainty of night. Unable to find sleep. Unable to believe he’d ever find it to begin with.

Your voice cut through his trance. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe next year we’ll get an invite for Tom’s second wedding,” you teased. 

Frankie rolled his eyes. At least he could take some sort of comfort in that. Redfly had tried out the whole settling down thing. And it just didn’t work. Frankie wished his buddies well, but he couldn’t help but feel deep down that they’d never be made for domesticity. They weren’t made for teary-eyed speeches and destination weddings. 

“Don’t count on it,” he drawled.

“Don’t count on it,” you mimicked Frankie’s slow, gruff voice which earned a small laugh from him. “I’ll tell you what, I bet you that Ben’s best man speech isn’t going to be nearly as good as Will’s was.”

He attempted to recall what Will had even said only a few months prior. It had to have been good, the man was a public speaker, for Christ’s sake. He guessed, “That one was long, right?”

“Yeah…don’t you remember it? Frankie, were you even there?”

“I was there alright.” He laughed to mask the wince he wanted to let out. Then he cleared his throat, throwing out another vague guess, “But I seem to remember that by the end of it, he needed some damn tissues too.”

“If you had a shithead little brother who managed to get married before he could experience massive head trauma, you’d probably get a little choked up too.” You added more to yourself than to him, “God, Frankie, how do you forget a speech like that? It was fucking beautiful.”

There was a very high likelihood that he had forgotten. Frankie spent almost every day following that entire night trying to forget it. And he wondered how in the world you remembered it either considering how much you’d drank.

If you could remember what Will had said…you should’ve remembered what you’d said too, right? You, standing in the bathroom and observing yourself in the mirror as you combed through your lashes to separate them, had to have known what you said to him that night. Because he knew it. Whether he liked it or not, he had that particular speech memorized with the way it ran through his head.

Frankie had known you were in a tough spot. Hell, it was part of the reason why he’d brought you along; part of the reason why Benny had insisted Frankie take you. 

She just got broken up with, Frankie had tried to reason.

Benny had merely smirked, Which is the exact reason why you should invite her out. Give her a chance to get fucked up. Spend the night with one of the bachelors. It’s the quintessential wedding experience.

Frankie couldn’t have even pretended to mask his disgust at the idea. But he couldn’t lie…bringing you along again sounded leagues above going alone. 

And now, sometimes he wished he had toughed it out instead.

No matter how much he tried to forget, the details always flashed through his mind. The way your fingers ran through his hair. How your touch managed to stay so soft despite how completely out of it you were. But that’s how you’d always been with him. Even at his absolute worst points when he was a less than ideal man, you found some shred of decency inside him that you never hesitated to cradle and nurture.

Maybe that’s what had made those tangles form in his stomach; the idea that he was taking advantage of that kindness.

Because that wasn’t…you. You wouldn’t have done that in your right mind. If your boyfriend hadn’t just broken up with you. If you hadn’t just found out that the entire time Nick had been cheating on you with that woman from accounting in his office. If you hadn’t drank way too much. None of this would be happening if you weren’t at your absolute lowest. 

So he wiped the slate clean. It’d almost always been easy to do that. To simply forget. But he should’ve known better by now. Those things he somehow managed to lock up always found a way to ooze out of the cracks in his facade.

There were a few times Frankie thought you might crack during the ceremony. Especially when Will read out his vows, because of course the guy went the extra mile, delivering them with that stern reverence that made him the kind of guy you wanted on your team. 

But you didn’t cry. This time…you grabbed his hand. It almost didn’t occur to him that you had until Will kissed his now wife and you squeezed Frankie’s hand in excitement. For a moment, he wondered if you’d managed to get a drink in before the ceremony. You couldn’t have; the bar wasn’t supposed to open until afterwards. He knew it couldn’t have been an alcohol induced action but he was still afraid to acknowledge it. 

So he kept as still as possible. Even when the ceremony ended and you began to pull him around the venue. Though he knew his hand was getting clammier with every minute that passed, he let you drag him around the little circles of friends and family of the bride and groom. He had checked out enough that he didn’t quite realize what he’d gotten himself into until you were bringing him to the dance floor and positioning his hands on your hips.

Only when you let go of his hand and placed your own on his shoulders did it strike him how similar this felt to that night at Benny’s wedding.

You spoke like you were treading thin ice. “That speech was…surprisingly alright.”

“And you didn’t cry,” he remarked equally as carefully.

“I didn’t cry!” you exclaimed.

“It would’ve been fine if you had.”

You shook your head, “That wasn’t the kind of speech you cry at. It was simple. Sweet. I liked it. Who would’ve thought Benny’d have it in him, right?”

“So what do you do for that kind of speech?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A polite clap. Maybe a cheer.”

“A cheer? Maybe you should’ve brought your pom poms instead of tissues.”

The way you scrunched up your nose into a playful grimace tugged at his heartstrings. Then you laughed, “Shut up.” God, he loved when you and him fell into this groove. 

So he continued with the bit, “You should get some for Tom’s wedding. The guy deserves a whole damn squad if he gets all tied up again.”

“Thought you said I shouldn’t count on it?”

“If you’re gonna count on anyone getting married soon, it’s better if it was him.” Frankie clicked his tongue, “Not like I’m going off the market anytime soon.”

“Oh, Frankie, stop it.” Your smile dropped ever so slightly, eyebrows turned inward as you gazed at him with something akin to pity or sympathy; he wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have no idea what the future could bring.”

“Not a wedding, that’s for damn sure.”

Your expression only intensified. He recognized it well after the amount of times you’d talked him off a ledge. “You can’t just discount the possibility entirely,” you argued.

“I can and I will,” he said stubbornly.

You were quiet for a few seconds, “So you’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? I mean…who would your best man be?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Your lip quirks to the side of your face as you feign a contemplative look before concluding, “Probably Santi.”

“Look at you, you did it for me,” Frankie deadpanned.

“I could plan the whole damn thing for you, don’t test me.”

“Why’s that?”

This time you pressed your lips together. And Frankie swears he felt you stumble over your own feet ever so slightly; like he’d caught you off guard with the query. “Oh, you know…weddings usually aren’t those things that people are eager to plan.”

“But why would you specifically be planning it? Unless you’re–”

A beat passes before you break out into an incredulous grin. “You’d want me to marry you and plan our wedding? That’s a tall order. I’m afraid you’ll have to pick one or the other, sorry.”

Frankie chuckles. He let the remark pass. He always enjoyed this back and forth. How you and him had always been able to bounce off of each other. It was hard enough keeping up with some of the guys. But keeping up with women was a whole different story. He always seemed to be a few steps behind most of them. For some reason, your pace was just perfect. Your humor, your timing, it all clicked with his personality.

Just like you were prone to doing, you broke the silence with an awkward laugh and big eyes staring right into his. “So…which one do you pick?”

He almost didn’t catch the question; almost didn’t want to. “Hm?”

“Would you rather marry me or have me plan your wedding?” you clarify.

“Come on, you know I’m not answering that.”

And the tide shifted once more. Just as quick as you were to smile, your expression melted into one of muted mortification. Like you’d just tilted your hand a little too far

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself. Your hands slid off his shoulders and you wiped them off on your dress before wrapping them around yourself. That was when you retreated, leaving him standing there looking like more of a fool than he ever thought he had.

He stared after you for a few seconds, struggling to process what had just happened when it finally registered.

Soon he was following after you. How you knew to navigate the venue so quickly, he couldn’t be bothered to wonder. All he knew by the time he got to the lobby of the wedding hall was that something was wrong.

He spotted you rushing down the sidewalk as he stepped outside. In all his exasperation, all he could get out was, “Hey, what the fuck?”

The cool night air of the fall settled in and billowed around him like a curse. He wasn’t quite sure if the deep chill that ran down his spine was from the weather or the sight of you turning around, eyes already wet with tears that you were desperately trying to blink away.

Your voice came out hoarse as you shouted back, “You’re asking me what the fuck? No, Frankie, what the fuck is up with you? I kissed you…God…how many months ago? And you don’t say a fucking word. I keep talking about Benny’s wedding and you keep acting like none of it fucking happened.”

Frankie threw his hands up. “You were drunk. I don’t even remember how many fucking drinks you had.”

“I had a couple virgin cocktails,” you scoffed. The admittance wasn’t stubborn. But it did come with a tone of disdain, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“You wouldn’t–” he stopped himself. You wouldn’t have done any of that unless you were drunk.

“You acted like you were drunk.”

You shook your head. “I was having fun. I was with you and I was having fun, you dumbass.” Then you sighed, gaze darting towards the street nervously. “And I woke up the morning after and I thought that…I thought you would’ve at least said something. I thought you would’ve asked me how I felt. I thought you would’ve had the decency to at least check in. But you were just…you were completely fine.”

“I wasn’t fine…”

“And now you want to crack jokes about marrying me?”

Frankie wagged a finger in your direction, an almost childish defense. “You brought that shit up first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, that doesn’t matter,” you muttered before raising your voice once more. “What matters is that I kissed you. I looked into your eyes and told you I fucking loved you and you said nothing.”

Hearing your voice say it again, even filled with such frustration, such anguish, he could help the way something fluttered in his chest. And even still, he shoved it down deeper than he ever had before.

“Because I wasn’t going to hurt you the way that Nick did.” He watched your gaze soften. “It would’ve killed me to hurt you like that.”

With the sounds of the city passing you both by, Frankie caught one of the worst sights possible. The tear that rolled down your cheek. And then the few more that followed, all shamelessly continuing their desolate stride down your neck. How you unclenched your jaw and unfolded all of the pain you’d kept since that summer into a few words. “You hurt me worse than Nick ever did.”

Your whole being compacted in on itself once more, recoiling from the vulnerable admission with a breathless conclusion. “Fuck you, Frankie. Fuck you.”

There it all was. And all he could think about was that night at Benny’s wedding. The night you told him you were glad Nick was gone. The night you smiled softly at him, thumb running over his bottom lip as you whispered.

I love you.

They were such fragile words. Words he hadn’t wanted to put any weight on, lest they shatter from beneath him and leave him falling face down in his own hopes. Because a small part of him had almost always hoped it was you. He never let himself truly believe the idea for long. But, God, he wanted to…could he still? He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice trembled in time with his hands. And he’d fully come to terms that it wasn’t just the cool air. He wasn’t a stranger to fearing for his life, with the work he’d once done, it was a given. But this wasn’t that. This was different. It was a fear of something a little more abstract. Because following this risk, there wouldn’t be oblivion. On the other side of his eyelids was a world where you either forgave him or you brushed him away. He certainly believed he deserved the latter with the way he’d been. But he’d never know unless he took the plunge.

When he opened his eyes again again he was grateful to find you still standing in front of him. He wouldn’t let this night steal his courage again. He repeated, voice firmer than before and charged with certainty, “I’m sorry.” Then finally replied, “I love you too. I love you.”

You gave him those hope filled eyes once more. He saw how it slowly morphed into joy; the kind that carried peace. You stepped closer, fingertips brushing against the material of his jacket as you reached for him.

Frankie closed the gap without any hesitation, his own hand moving to cradle your face as he moved in to kiss you. None of his recollections of the first time he’d done it could’ve ever lived up to the second one. There was no dread, no looming guilt, no fear. Only excitement and hope.

“If I could only pick one. I’d marry you. Any day…I’d marry you,” he mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back. And with his eyes still closed, he felt you smile as you answered, “Maybe I’ll ask you again next year. For now, let’s have this.”

“I can handle that,” he smiled then melted into you once more. And already it was something he knew he could easily get used to. Next time you asked, he’d be ready.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚ #spacesisterssecretvalentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic

[thot-of-khonshu]

it's always the quiet ones (frankie morales x reader)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Commissions

Summary: you thought Frankie Morales was shy when you first met him. when he decided to take you on a date, you were pleasantly surprised. when he ate you out against an alley wall, you were even more surprised.

Rating: M, 18+

Word count: 2.5K

Content: explicit smut, public sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), frankie being soft but surprisingly dirty

When Santiago first told you that Frankie was interested in you knew that there was no doubt that he was fucking with you. Frankie Morales? The man whose said maybe 20 words total to you when you’ve spent time with him?

After work you liked to tag along with your fun coworker Santi to grab drinks and blow off some steam. More times than not, his military buddies would tag along with you - grinning, boisterous and ready to have fun. They would talk about their gory stores in the Army or listen to your gory stories of modern dating. And then...there was Frankie.

Your eyes immediately went to him when you first spotted him in the room. His large, strong frame was visible under a light grey t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and chest perfectly. His face was strong with a sharp defined nose and deep brown eyes that seemed to pierce your soul. Dark curls hung out from underneath a tattered baseball cap.

Frankie was quiet. He was always taking in everything around him without saying a word. He had an ability to see things that others couldn't even imagine.

After you'd met him for the first time, you tried to approach him. You introduced yourself with what you thought was a sweet smile, and all he did was give you a long look and nod at you. You excused yourself and fled to the bathroom to collect your embarrassment.

To say he was difficult to get to know would be an understatement. He was nothing like Benny, who was chatty, silly and easy-going. He was nothing like Will who even though stoic and reserved, would talk to you about his fiance at any chance he got.

But Frankie?

When you asked him about his week, he always offered the same non-descriptive response, "fine," and took a sip of beer in an attempt to end the conversation.

Pool or darts were both suggested, yet both were rebuked with a simple reply of "I'm no good at it." Shots were never attempted; only beers. It seemed the two of you just didn't click. And then Santi declared one night after drinks that Frankie Morales had a crush on you.

"Why couldn't he just tell me himself?" You asked.

Santi shrugged. "You've got to work harder to get someone like that to open up. But I promise, he likes you. Give him a chance. Even if it's just for a free dinner."

What the hell at this point, right? Santiago gave you Frankie's phone number and the texts started out cordial. It was more conversation than the two of you had ever had, coordinating on when and where to meet.

As you got ready for your dinner with Frankie, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. You wanted to make a good impression, but you didn't know what to expect from someone who you hadn't talked to very much. Santiago wasn't a great help either, merely telling you to be yourself and see where the night takes you.

You had dressed up in a simple black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, paired with some strappy heels. You made sure that every strand of your hair was in place before heading to the restaurant.

When you arrived, Frankie was already there, sitting at a small table in the corner. He looked up as you approached, and for a moment, you almost didn't recognize him. This wasn't the same guy who would grunt and grumble at you at the bar. His curls were brushed out and he had left behind his trusted hat. He was wearing a nice button down shirt, a few buttons undone to expose his tan chest. He looked good. When he smiled at you, his dimples exposed, you realized this was the first time he'd really ever smiled at you.

You felt a flicker when you approached him. An all too familiar feeling with an unfamiliar person. You could feel a new energy emanating from him, a sense of confidence that you hadn't seen before.

"Hi," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You look nice tonight."

You returned the compliment as he pulled your chair to sit. Your hands briefly touched and you felt the hairs on the back of your arm stand up.

"So what brings you here tonight?" he asked, cooly sitting down and taking a sip of his drink. Was Frankie actually trying to banter with you?

You shrugged, trying to play it cool and ignore the growing feeling. "Just wanted to get out of the house, you know?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you did. I was hoping I'd see you tonight."

You couldn't believe the thought that had crossed your mind about possibly calling off the date.

-----------------

Had you predicted how your date with Frankie would go at the start of the day, you'd never have imagined it going so well. Yet here the two of you were, bantering like old friends sharing a bottle of wine. The conversation flowed. There was so much you didn't know about this man. He was a pilot. He has a daughter. He was sharp with wit. He had a gentle demeanor that felt like a breath of fresh air. You've finally gotten to the other side of the coin of this man.

Once the bill came and the server came to get Frankie's card for the check, there was a brief silence after shared smiles and laughter. It started to hit you that dinner was over and you weren't ready for the night to end. But is this something he wanted to? Maybe he wanted to take you out to see if there was something and he was being cordial?

As if he was reading your thoughts, Frankie spoke up. "Do you wanna go for a walk? There's a gelato place near by, I think you'd really like it."

You smiled from ear to ear at the suggestion. "I'd love that."

Frankie paid the bill and you both left the restaurant, walking side by side down the street. The two of you strolled through the empty streets, sharing a double scoop of gelato on a stick. How was it possible that you couldn't read him less than 12 hours ago but now you were talking as if you'd known him for a lifetime?

"I have to be honest...I was really surprised when Santiago said you wanted to go out with me." You said, stopping by a lamp post.

Frankie looked over at you, his eyes softening. "Really? Why's that?"

You shrugged, feeling a little bit embarrassed. "I don't know. I just didn't think you were interested in me."

Frankie squeezed your hand gently, you felt the callouses on his hands and they soothed you. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to come off as rude or uninterested. Truth is, I was intimidated by you."

"Me? Intimidating?" you laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Frankie nodded, his eyes serious. "Yeah. You're beautiful, smart, and confident. I didn't know how to handle that at first. I was just so terrified that if I said something awkward, there was no turning back."

He paused, roaming his hand through his hair, his curls coming back to life from the humid air. He licked his lips. "I've liked you for awhile. I'm just...not good at this."

"By the way tonight is going you could've fooled me." You smirked.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He asked.

You leaned in and pressed your mouth against his. His lips were plush and they had a hint of sweetness from the gelato. You pulled away, and he gazed down at you, his mouth turned upwards in a smirk.

"Does that answer your question?" You teased.

"Not even a bit," He chuckled, as he came crashing onto your lips again. You stumbled back, trying to stay in the kiss for as long as possible, and felt the chill of the lightpost behind you. Frankie cupped the nape of your neck, initially to make sure you were alright, but when your lips parted to deepen into it, he didn't resist. His hands ran down your back as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

You let out a soft moan that made him pull you closer, making your kiss wilder. All you wanted in that moment was to press up against him, feel the heat from his body against your own. You couldn't help but run your hands down the front of his shirt, feeling the welcoming softness of his body. His hands slid down to the curves of your ass and you felt the heat emanating from you.

The piercing wolf whistle coming from someone on the street made the two of you break apart. You pulled away, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" You asked.

Frankie ran his fingers through your hair, looking at you with eyes that were dazed. "Yeah."

The two of you walked quickly, hand in hand, until he led you to a back alley that was shielded from public view.

The side street is dark and the cold air makes it feel like you are underwater. Frankie's touch is warm and makes you feel as if you are floating out of water instead.

Frankie kisses you deep and slow, allowing you to taste his lips as he draws you deeper into the kiss.

You pull him in closer, pressing your hips against his, feeling the unmistakable bulge between his thighs.

You moan softly when he lifts you up, bracing your back against the wall and running his hands along your curves.

"Baby..." He groans against your ear.

You rub yourself against him, feeling the heat growing from the center of your stomach.

"Can I touch you?" He whispers.

"Please."You whimper softly as he runs his hand up your inner thigh, feeling higher and higher up your dress. Reveling in the softness of your skin. He brushes the fabric against your clit and just his touch makes your knees go weak.

He moves his fingers in circles around the outside of your entrance. You arch your back, pressing your hips against his hand, silently begging for him to slip his fingers inside. He moves closer to you, pushing your dress up higher, and finally he slides your underwear to the side and you feel his thick finger slide inside of you.

"Frankie..." You cry out.

"Fuck," he mutters, pulling his hand away from you and sliding his fingers in his mouth. "You're so fucking wet."

You pull him in for another kiss, messy and wanting, feeling his fingers move in slow, sensual motions into your entrance. You bite down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet while his hand explores the soft wet folds of your pussy.

He inserts another finger, pushing them deeper inside you and you gasp. He's already making you feel so full with just his fingers, savoring every single movement he makes.

"Does that feel good?" He whispers into your ear.

"It feels so fucking good." You moan softly, rolling your hips against his hand.

"I can't wait until I'm deep inside of you. Until I can fill you up so good..." he growls.

You moan, your knees weakening as you feel him slide in deeper. His pace quickens as he adds a thumb to your clit. Your head hits the back of the wall and Frankie cradles the back of your head, tilting it slightly so he can kiss your neck.

You roll your hips faster against his hand, feeling your core begin to build. You grip tightly on his shoulders, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet but the sounds of your wetness are starting to fill the area.

Frankie himself is getting swept up in kissing your neck and your chest, peppering kisses and what you can only assume are filthy words in Spanish as he moves lower and lower to lower the strap on your dress.

He lifts you up higher, making it easier for you to move on his fingers as he sucks the bud of your nipple. Your hands go to the nape of his neck as you try to steady yourself, trying to stifle your moans as best you can. You grind your hips harder against him, feeling the growing pleasure pool at your core.

You hear the wet pop of him removing his mouth from your nipple and feel the cool air on your chest. He removes his fingers from you, and you feel that maybe he thinks the two of you got carried away even though it feels so right.

He positions himself lower, between the entrance of your legs that are hoisted on his broad shoulders and pulls your panties down. He spreads you open with his fingers, admiring your wet folds.

"Look at this pretty pussy." He murmurs. "This tight wet hole. It's all mine isn't it?"

He runs his tongue along your strip and you involuntarily let out a cry. He shushes you.

"You have to be quiet for me, baby." Frankie says, kissing at your inner thigh. "Can you do that? So I can make you cum?"

You nod feverishly, your mouth pursed shut as if it's the hardest thing you've ever had to do and he begins to run his tongue over your entrance again.

His tongue circles your clit, slow and teasing and then he takes it between his lips to suck. You rock your hips against his face, your hands on his curls as he slides one hand under your ass to lift you. He slides two fingers into you, pumping faster as you whine.

The pleasure is too much and you dig your nails into his scalp, muffling your cries into his hair. He picks up his pace, his tongue moving faster and faster as he thrusts his fingers deeper and deeper.

You feel yourself coming undone, your muscles contracting around his fingers as you scream into your mouth, back arching from the wall. He pulls his fingers out of you as his tongue circles your clit one last time and your body relaxes.

He kisses your thigh and pulls your panties back up, pressing his forehead against your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers.

He comes back up to pull the top of your dress back up, shielding you as he looks around for anyone else to walk by.

"Oh, now you're checking to see if anyone is around?" You grin. He takes your hand, kissing the top of it as he leads you back out to the street.

"I couldn't help myself. I promise on our next date I won't get so...carried away." Frankie blushes.

You smile, blushing slightly yourself. You can't believe what just happened.

"I think I like getting carried away with you."

Frankie Morales was a man of many mysteries. He was quiet, caring, sweet, sensual and filthy. You thought you knew him and here was this completely other side. You had a feeling he had more up his sleeve, but you were more than willing to find out more.

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic

[moralesispunk]

thinking about friends to lovers frankie (under cut, hint at nsfw so 18+ only)

frankie who has been the friend you had grown up with, who would study in your room, a pen between his teeth as he sat up against the headboard while you lay on your stomach at the bottom of your bed, reading flash cards to one another before the big test tomorrow

frankie who had scaled up a tree and into your bedroom after you had gone through your first bad break-up, falling asleep on the floor by your side before sneaking out again in the morning

frankie who would call you every other day while you were both off at college, who would go quiet when you mentioned a date you were going on the same way you did when he said he was bringing a girl home for christmas

frankie who has been the young boy with big, brown eyes and a missing tooth who had shared his snacks with you, who had been the angsty teenager you snuck out with to go to concerts, who was the twenty-something year old man who grew into himself - becoming quiet and self-assured, who made brothers in the army, who travelled the world and always brought you something in return

then there was frankie of his thirties, retired and moving to the town you had just relocated to with a new job and the end of a long term relationship

soon friday night drinks became friday night dinners, sometimes a movie on the sofa, sometimes falling asleep with your head resting against his shoulder or that one time he held you against his chest with your head tucked under his chin

sunday farmer markets. saturday hikes. wednesday lunch breaks together. tuesday morning coffees.

a night washing dishes in your kitchen side by side, the radio on and your reflection in the mirror. if you paid attention you could see the six year olds who became best friends blinking back at you, his mischievous smile as he splashes water on your cheek and your bitten back one when you slap is arm with the dish towel

but then you blink and he's looking back at you, too. thirty-six, in love with your best friend for... who knows how long it's been. maybe forever in some sense.

a kiss. a back pressed against the wall and hands fumbling for buttons and zips. gasps and moans. a tear slipping down the cheek because why did you waste all those years not doing this, one frankie brushes away and says he doesn't regret it at all because he had you closer than anyone else for thirty years.

and families and friends who would repeat their own version of "about damn, time", frankie's eyes meeting yours every time as his hand squeezes your own

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales #frankiethoughts

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Real Love, Baby

pairing: frankie morales x plus size!fem!reader

rating: F (talks of body image issues/insecurities/maybe a kiss of inner angst bc i’m self-soothing here, but mostly just Frankie wooing us)

wc: ~1k

frankie masterlist

Growing up curvier than all of your friends had somehow brainwashed you into believing romance had a weight limit on it. Even into adulthood, you found yourself perpetually single, watching and playing wingman to your friends who, by the grace of genetics, seemed to always have a line of suitors waiting for their shot only to be turned down.

While you admired and adored your friends for knowing that their league was far above some random dude in a bar, you couldn’t help the slight twist of jealousy blossom in your stomach every time they shooed another suitor away, simply because you couldn’t even remember the last time a man tried to talk to you in a bar.

It wasn’t the attention you wanted—hell, it wasn’t even the men that you yearned for. You simply longed to feel like all of the other girls, to experience the things they experienced, to be desired by someone without being fetishized. To live the life that every “conventionally” attractive woman got to live, one full of experience and romance and heartbreak.

It wasn’t any surprise that when the day finally came, you were severely unprepared, and truthfully, a little rude.

“Hey,” a voice sounded from behind you as you stood at the bar, watching your friend’s purses as they danced the night away with a man they’d just met that night. Expecting the usual, you sighed and pointed at the seat beside you.

“Look, if you want to talk to one of my friends, you’re gonna have to do that yourself,” you said, hardly even looking at the man who’d found his seat beside you.

“What?” he chuckled, though genuine confusion was thick in his tone.

You brought your eyes to his finally and sighed at how handsome he was. Why is it that you always find yourself attracted to the kind of men that look like they would have bullied you in middle school?

“My friend—“ you started, but the furrow in his brow cut you off. “What?”

“I didn’t come over here to talk to your friend,” he explained with a chuckle. “I came to try and talk to you.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips at his words, but the confusion written all over his face silenced your amusement.

“Sorry, I just—“ You shook your head and looked down at your drink, swirling the black straw inside of it around the glass. “I can’t remember the last time someone tried to talk to me in a bar.”

“Me either,” he said, offering a friendly smile that instantly made you feel safe with him even when you knew nothing about him at all. Holding his hand out to you, he introduced himself. “I’m Frankie.”

You slid your hand into his and shook it, smiling shyly as you gave him your name.

“So, Frankie,” you spoke through your fluster. “What brings you out tonight?”

“My friends,” he replied, swiveling on the barstool to point across the room at a table of muscly, masculine men who began to whistle the minute you turned to look at them. “Sorry about them. They collectively share one brain cell.”

“Ah,” you nodded and smiled again. “What about you?”

“I’ve got at least five, I think,” he said, flashing that winning grin of his. “I don’t wanna sound like a creep or anything—“

“Oh no,” you winced, making him laugh.

“No, nothing too creepy, I promise. I just,” he sucked in a breath of courage and suddenly looked endearingly boyish to you. “I’ve just seen you around a few times before, but I’m not the best at this whole…flirting thing so I never came over.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his admission.

“What finally gave you the courage?” you asked, attempting to play things cool just like your friends always did.

“My friend Pope said that if I didn’t come talk to you, he would,” he said. Turning around again, you smirked as you looked at the men who’d gone back to their conversation.

“Which one’s Pope?” you asked.

“The short one,” he said dryly, earning a laugh.

“Pretty cute,” you teased, smiling as you watched Frankie roll his eyes.

“He’s loud. He snores. He’s got shit grammar—“ Another laugh. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d connected with a stranger like this, so quickly and naturally. “I’m saving you a headache, really.”

“Well, thank you,” you grinned. “I hate loud snorers with shit grammar.”

“Oh yeah? What do you like, then?” He was really going for it now, even pulling out the casual eye drop to your lips tactic that you’d seen so many men pull on your friends before. Only now, it was working.

“I like…” You bit your lip as your eyes bounced across his features. “Brown eyes,” he nodded as though to check it off the list. “A beard,” another nod. “But mostly, I just like a man who can make me laugh.”

“Sounds like you just stumbled upon the man of your dreams,” he grinned.

“You stumbled upon me, dream boy.” Frankie laughed and nodded in agreement.

“Is there any way we can stumble upon each other again?” he asked, that nervous smile finding its way back onto his face. “Maybe for brunch?”

“A man who eats brunch,” you fawned, making a show out of fanning yourself off. “I’d be a fool to say no.”

“Hey,” you smiled as you approached the patio table in front of the breakfast spot Frankie had picked out for your brunch date, finding him already seated and nervously bouncing his knee.

“Hey!” he chimed, a wave of relief washing away his nervousness as he stood to hug you and pull out your chair. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“Definitely not,” you chuckled, sitting down and scooting yourself closer to the table as he resumed his seat in front of you. “Just had to give myself a pep talk in the car that forced me to run a little late.”

“Why on earth did you think you needed a pep talk to come and see me? A guy?” he laughed, his brown eyes meeting yours.

“Because you’re a very handsome guy and I’m…” You shrugged, not wanting to voice the insecurities that sat like a weight in the pit of your chest.

“You’re what? Way out of my fucking league?” he asked with a half-smirk.

“I haven’t heard that before,” you replied honestly, lifting your glass of water to take a sip.

“Well, that really fucking sucks, because you are out of my league,” he said sincerely. “Out of every guy’s league.”

“What a line,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“It’s not a line,” he promised. “I think you’re beautiful, and on top of that, you’re really fucking witty and quick.”

“Thanks,” you blushed and swirled your straw around your cup. “Not used to being complimented this much.”

“Well, if you decide to keep me around, I’d like to try and get you used to that.”

Five Years Later

“Jesus,” you groaned, leaning into Frankie’s side as the two of you walked into that bar where you first met, the room filled with younger people that made you question your spot here. “Are we old?”

“I’ve been old for a while, baby,” he joked, placing his hand on the small of your back as you weaved your way through the crowd to the table where Frankie’s friends sat.

“There they are,” cheered Pope.

“Aw, the newlyweds make an appearance!” Benny added with a teasing smirk.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have,” you quipped, watching Frankie pull your seat out before sitting down. “We need to find a spot to drink with people our own age.”

“Hey,” Benny said. “Just because all of you are old and settled down doesn’t mean I am. I still need to find my princess.”

“You’re going to find your ‘princess’ in a sports bar?” his brother, Will, teased.

“Frankie did,” he argued.

“And to think,” Pope mused, playfully throwing his arm across your shoulder to hug you into his side. “What could have been if Frankie never got the courage to talk to you.”

Frankie, sitting on your other side, swatted his friend’s arm off of you before pulling your chair closer to his.

“Thankfully, we’ll never know,” he said, leaning over to kiss your shoulder. “I’ve got her locked down now.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales oneshot #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales

[jksprincess10]

Are we out of the woods 1. The cabin

Summary : Your father is a dangerous man who has a lot of enemies. One day, you’re taken from your home by force to go to a safe cabin in the woods to be protected from an unknown danger by three of his men: Ironhead, Pope and Catfish. You’re not really a nature enjoyer, but in your boredom, you discover a new love for nature. You also get to know the men working for your dad and interest sparks between you and the mysterious and silent Francisco.

CW: canon-like violence, explicit smut, reader is kind of a princess at first, talks of divorce, drugs & alcohol, talks of addiction, slight age gap (reader in her mid 20s, frankie in his late 30s), jealousy, tension, frankie is a mess.

Fic masterlist

Notification blog

"Dad, I can take care of myself you don't have to -"

"I'm sorry sweetie. You just don't realize how much danger you're in."

You knew your dad wasn't really in the military. He and his boys did kill people... but not to protect the country. Let’s just say your dad wasn’t the most innocent businessman, but you didn't want to know all the details. You were just happy to have a roof over you head and anything you wanted whenever you wanted. You wouldn't have to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to.

"This is Ironhead, Pope and Catfish. They will take you to the safe house and they will watch over your safety."

The three men are all shades of handsome. Ironhead is the classical pretty boy, blondish hair, and pale eyes. Pope is a tan Latino with dark hair and a dark stubble. Catfish is a shy looking man with patchy facial hair and pretty brown eyes.

You don’t acknowledge them at all, and you stop listening as your father gives them precise instructions. You barely have time to pack your bags before they enclose you in the backseat of a truck, next to the man called Catfish. Ironhead is driving and Pope oversees the map. You hope your neighbors don't see the commotion. Outside of your dad's job, you just wanted a normal life.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

You stopped recognizing the scenery a long time ago. You were rolling on rough country roads and the view was filled with trees with bright orange and deep red leaves. The earth was dry and yellow where there were no leaves.

"Somewhere safe." Pope responds pragmatically.

"I wish I could have stayed home." You roll your eyes and cross your arms against your chest.  

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we have orders. Your dad pays us, not you." Ironhead says, looking at you from the rearview mirror.

"Fine. Wake me up when we're there."

Catfish is the only one not talking, his mind seems to be elsewhere.

The house is more of a cabin in the woods than anything else. You expected a bunker or something sturdier, but not this house made out of dark wood. It looks very remote and boring. Good thing you brought your kindle because counting the logs that composed the house would get boring very fast.

"At least it's not a tent." You grumble to yourself. The boys laugh.

"Sorry it's not a castle." Responds Pope. "Let's get settled."

The cabin is much larger on the inside. The boys would share a room with bunk beds, and you would have your private quarters. Thank god. You couldn’t imagine sleeping in the same room as three sweaty and probably snoring men.

You discover your room: it has no personality, but the bed seems big and somewhat cozy. There’s a small window, from where you can admire a calm lake. You leave your bag on the mattress and start unpacking. You brought a few changes of warm clothes, not knowing if you’d still be here after the snow started falling from the sky. When you’re done, your hunger manifests with a low grumble in your stomach. You go to the cabin’s kitchen to fetch something to eat.

"She's a spoiled brat."

"She acts like she's 12. What do you think, fish? "

Frankie sighs.

"Boss don't pay us to have an opinion. I'll take first watch."

When Catfish comes out of the bedroom where the boys are settling down, he finds you opening the cupboards with a sigh.  

"You guys okay with...butter pasta?" You ask holding up your poor findings, a grimace on your face.

"Yeah. The guys eat whatever." It's the first time you hear his voice. It's slightly rough from his lack of talking. You wonder if he’s always so quiet and mysterious. He seems more interesting to you than the two other men.

You nod and get the water to boil. “Where are you going?” You ask as you see Catfish putting on his coat.

“Taking first watch, ma’am.”

“… Wait… My dad doesn’t really ask you to stand watch outside like a guard dog, does he?” You ask awkwardly. All of this was too much.

“Yes, he does. And I will do what I’m paid to do.”

With that, he’s gone. You shrug, even though you feel bad for the man standing outside in the cold fall night. Pope and Ironhead interrupt your thoughts.

“He’s always doing too much, don’t worry.” Pope offers with a smile as he sees Catfish through the small window of the door.

“I see.” You go back to staring blankly at the boiling water. “We’ll need food.”

“Hm. Respectfully… Didn’t know you could cook…” Ironhead says with a teasing smile. You roll your eyes not so subtly.

“You thought I had a private cook?" You take their silence for a yes. Your mother taught you how to cook and take care of a home so you could take care of your dad as well as she did. "Well, we’re eating plain pasta.” You drop the bag of noodles in the warm water and stir. “Do I have to call you guys by your stupid code names or...?”

“Guess not, since we might be here for a while. I’m Santiago, this is William and the guy with the sad eyes and the old cap is Francisco.”

You tell them your name, so they stop calling you “ma’am”. Not that you don't enjoy that sort of power you have.

"He's so dramatic." Santi sighs. Frankie still hadn't come back in, even though the pasta was getting colder and colder.

"He's doing too much." William agrees. "I don't think there's many dangers out here right now. Besides a few squirrels and maybe a bear. Maybe we should go get him, so he doesn’t die from starvation."

"I'll go." You take the bowl of lukewarm pasta made with butter, salt and pepper. It was the blandest thing you ever cooked. You open the front door and see the man sat on the front porch, gun in hand.

He looks up at you with those pretty dark eyes that shine even brighter under the moonlight.

"Francisco, is it?" You try to sound as pleasant as possible, as if not to scare a stray cat you were trying to pet. "Food is getting cold. I brought it for you, it's pretty bland but - anyway, I think the boys want you to come inside."

You leave the plate beside him and open the door, but his rough voice stops you.

"How do you know my name?"

"Santiago told me. I can call you Catfish if you want, even though it's not flattering at all."

There's the shadow of a smile on his lips. "Just call me Frankie. Only my mami calls me Francisco."

“Alright, Frankie.”

His name sounds so sweet on your lips. And frankly, it’s too cute for the man in front of you, who looks like he had seen better days. You don’t know if you’re hallucinating because of the warm light, but you swear you can see his cheeks getting red when you say his name.

“Well, good night, Frankie. You should come in soon.”

And he wants to follow you badly. But he has a job to do.

You close the door behind yourself, and he waits until you’re out of view to grab the plate and eat the bland pasta. Still, it was better than anything he could cook.

“No luck, boys.”  You say as you come in.

“We’re not surprised. Thanks for trying.” Santi responds nicely.

William is already up and taking care of the dishes for you.  You decide to go to the living room and to get a fire started. You imagine yourself spending long nights here, reading. The couch is old and torn in some places, but large enough for all of you to fit. There is a fluffy carpet on the cold floor and a coffee table, a perfect place where to place warm drinks. It's very cozy, very homey.

Your gaze rests on the window offering a view on the porch, where you imagine Frankie sitting. You don't know if he's actually there, the curtains are drawn, but you have a feeling he probably is.

Your stay might not be too bad after all.

#awootw #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie friday #frankie x you #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia #william miller #frankie morales x yn #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut

[moonlight-prose]

✧ ENDLESSLY ✧

a/n: i am loving everyone's reactions to the kinktober fics. it's making this so much more exciting for me to keep writing! this is the first smut fic i've done with frankie in like two years. so i'm a bit nervous it's ooc. but i hope y'all enjoy it. there's plenty more with this man coming in the near future.

day three - handjob + mirror sex | kinktober 2023

summary: "tonight you were two people exploring the twists and turns of love. what it meant to be tied to one another, to be committed so thoroughly that you felt in the depths of your heart."

word count: 1k+

pairing: frankie morales x reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, handjob, praise, a tad bit of overstimulation, mirror sex, frankie being shy.

Your clothes were long discarded in a heap on the bedroom floor, his right beside yours. That’s where they would stay until the sun streamed through the curtains. Signaling that it was time to let life shift back to what it was used to. The routine you had both grown accustomed to. But tonight…he was yours.

Tonight you were two people exploring the twists and turns of love. What it meant to be tied to one another, to be committed so thoroughly that you felt it in the depths of your heart.

Grinning, you placed a soft kiss to his shoulder, a soft moan falling from his lips when his eyes fluttered open again. Catching the position of where you were in the mirror. Frankie never liked the attention to be displayed on him; always shying away from the sight of himself in the mirror when he was sans clothes. Except you wanted to do the same thing he’d done to you so many years ago when you first got together.

You wanted to show him the beauty you saw day in and day out.

“Look at yourself honey,” you breathed against his ear, teeth scraping the shell of it as he shivered.

You had him on his knees, back pressed to your chest, your arms wrapped around his torso. If only to press your hands to his soft stomach and feel him breathe. The gentle rise and fall of his upper body as you drove him higher with just your words. There was no denying the effect you had on him. How one single touch caused him to melt into you, allowing you to take the reins whenever you wanted.

Tonight was exactly that.

“Querida—” He gasped when your hand slipped down lower, brushing along the faint trail of hair that led to where he needed you most.

His cock practically leaked for you—the tip red and swollen. Any other time you’d take him into your mouth, deep enough until he couldn’t form coherent sentences. But you needed this just as he did. The feeling of your touch, the softness of your words as you brought him to his release. Frankie had been so good to you lately. You just wanted to do the same for him.

“Baby,” you said gently, nails scraping against his skin—his stomach jumping slightly as his brown eyes locked with yours. “What do you want?”

“Want you to—” His mouth parted when your nail dragged down the length of his cock, the muscles underneath his skin taught and nearly ready to snap. “Touch me. Please. I need you to…”

He choked, his head falling forward when your hand wrapped around him entirely, tugging gently and ripping another sound from his chest. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, biting down so hard that he nearly drew blood to the surface. There was no denying how gone he was for you. How he’d allowed every wall he once built up to keep people out to come crashing down. All for you.

“So good for me baby.” You pressed your lips to his neck, thumb spreading the pearly drop of precum down his cock. “Look at how pretty you look.”

His eyes fluttered open per your request, a flush spreading through his chest. “Querida—oh fuck, oh god—”

His hips bucked into your hand trying to reach for any friction possible, desperate to chase that building feeling in his stomach. And you let him. You watched transfixed to the mirror as he took his pleasure from you—fucking himself along your palm; unabashed sounds leaving his mouth. Frankie felt like he was fucking transending the clouds in the sky—the high nearly burning his inside as he kept going. Chasing that single feeling with a fervor he’d never experienced before.

“C’mon baby,” you cooed in his ear, teeth closing around the lobe and tugging. “You want to cum all over my hand?”

He nodded frantically, his mouth parted and breaths coming in short. “Uh huh.”

“Be a good boy for me.” You stimulated him, your thumb pressing down on a spot that made his thighs shake—his body nearly folding in on itself. “And look at yourself when you cum.”

As if you held complete control over his body, his eyes flew open—head raising to meet your eyes in the mirror. A smile curved over your lips, so sweet and innocent that he nearly choked on his own spit. There you were getting him off in the filthiest manner possible and you were looking at him like that. Frankie let out a throaty moan, his eyes flickering down to his leaking cock—your thumb spreading along the head, and he felt it.

The tight feeling in his stomach that had been building for so long snapped. Your hand pressed to his chest, practically wrapping yourself around him as he let go—spurting over your hand and on the mirror. Heat flushed through his body, his mind a haze of lust and pleasure combining into one. Yet you never let go. You continued to pump him until pain began to tinge the edges of his vision—burning through him like a wildfire.

“Oh—fuck—” He jolted forward, his hand clambering down to grasp yours as something painful seared through his body. Frankie wasn’t sure if he wanted you to continue or stop altogether.

He’d let you make that choice.

“Did so good for me,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to the patchy spot on his jaw. “How do you feel baby?”

He let out a breath, his head falling against your shoulder. “Fucked.”

You laughed, sliding a hand up his stomach until you felt the familiar thump beneath his chest. “You up for a shower?”

Something flared to life in the back of his mind. A craving that came every time you focused your attention on him. He wasn’t done. Far from it. No, the night wouldn’t come to an end until he had you in his place—begging him for a release.

So he smiled, clasping his hand over yours with a smile. “Absolutely.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales smut #frankie 'catfish' morales #my writing #pedrostories #kinktober 2023

[creedslove]

✨HEADCANON MASTERLIST ✨

RULES FOR REQUESTING

MAIN MASTERLIST

• Main Masterlist (series and one shots) HERE

• Second headcanon masterlist HERE

✨ PEDRO PASCAL

• You're Pedro's girlfriend but you have a long distance relationship and he surprises you by visiting

• Pedro is casted in a movie adaption of your best seller and you two develop feelings for each other

✨ JAVIER PEÑA

• NSFW Alphabet

• General kinks

• Nail kink

• Being Javier's mistress and getting pregnant

• Javier railing you on the way home

• Javier coming home exhausted at night

• Being Javi's wife

• Cock warming with Javier Peña

• Javier painting your nails when you are too tired

• Helping Javi when he is frustrated

• Comforting Javier

• Javier helping you when you are anxious

• Fake marriage with Javier

• You and Javier suffer a miscarriage

• Javier with someone who speaks french

• Javier fingering you under the table

✨ JOEL MILLER

• Being Joel's wife

• Being pregnant with Joel's baby

• Joel cuddling with you and Sarah after a hard day of work

• Being Joel's wife and becoming a mom to Sarah

• Spending weekends when you are married to Joel

• Being fingered by Joel in public

• Joel taking care of you when you have a migraine

• Running into Joel's ex

• Joel Miller is such moanable name

• The baby won't stop crying

• Baby headcanons

• Sweet things Joel does

• Joel seeing the resemblance between you and your daughter

• Joel reacting to you saying you're pregnant

• How you and Joel met and become a little family with Ellie

• Lazy sex on the couch

• Joel taking care of you when you're stressed

• Sarah calls you mom for the first time

• Joel feeding the baby and getting food all over himself

• Being a hairdresser and taking care of Joel's hair in Jackson (slicked back haired Joel)

• Cock warming with Joel

• Joel in a relationship with someone introvert

• Being married to Joel and reuniting after the outbreak

• Joel tries to win reader over after her memory loss

• Joel + breeding kink

• Joel divorces reader to be with Sarah's mom and they meet again after years

• Joel on you having multiple partners

• You hire Joel as your contractor and you fall in love with each other

• Joel being your dad's best friend and having an affair with you

• Joel finds your lost dog

• You, Sarah and your baby wear matching outfits to surprise Joel

• You're the face painter at a kid's birthday party and Joel falls for you

• Joel seeing you wearing nothing but your panties and his shirt

• Joel agreeing on painting your nails for you

✨AGENT WHISKEY

• Being nervous to tell Whiskey you're pregnant and how he's like during the pregnancy

• Whiskey grieving your death

• Shopping with Whiskey

• Whiskey as a dad

• Whiskey goes to the hospital and falls for his nurse

• Whiskey takes you to the movies

✨ JAVI G

• Javi doesn't like to see you so stressed out because of work, so he sets a special dinner for you

• Sweet things Javi G does

✨ FRANKIE MORALES

• Frankie comes back from his mission and surprises you with your favorite: japanese food and wine

✨ DAVE YORK

• Faking your orgasm

• Dave's kinks

• Sugar daddy Dave York

• Dave hurts you during sex by accident

• Dave when he's jealous of you

• Dave is mean to everyone except you

• Dave takes care of you after you are caught by his enemies

• Dave York on aftercare, pregnancy and jealousy

• Dave lying to his wife so he can spend time with you

• Dave confessing his feelings in the middle of a fight

• Dave and you are married to other people but start having an affair with each other

• You and Dave are looking for a house but the real estate agent won't stop flirting with him

• Dave calming down anxious pregnant reader

• Dave defending you from a stalker

✨ MARCUS PIKE

• Random headcanons

• NSFW headcanons

• Marcus taking care of you when you're sick

• A quiet evening with Marcus

• Is Marcus messy or tidy?

• Marcus asking you to sit on his face

• Seeing Marcus with facial hair for the first time

✨ MULTI CHARACTER HEADCANONS

• Shaving pubes + favorite sexual position

• What's their type of women

• Fingering you in the middle of a conversation

• Their type of wedding

• What they do when the baby won't stop crying

• They take care of you when you have the flu

• When you ask them to go on a picnic

• Meeting your family

• Ass or tits

• You have a car accident and they come for you

• What they do in their free time

• They receive a spicy picture from you

• Working with Javier Peña and Dave York and catching their attention

• Who would make you cum harder

• How would they act when you fake your orgasm

#pedro pascal #javier peña #joel miller #javi gutierrez #agent whiskey #dave york #frankie morales #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña x reader #joel miller x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #agent whiskey x reader #dave york x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #javier peña x y/n #javi gutierrez x y/n #dave york x y/n #agent whiskey x y/n #frankie morales x y/n #pedro pascal x you #javier peña x you #javi gutierrez x you #dave york x you #joel miller x you #agent whiskey x you #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal headcanons #javier peña headcanons #javi gutierrez headcanons

[undercoverpena]

rips in perfection

francisco morales x f!reader | frankie morales masterlist

summary: you just shine your light with determination through the cracks he allowed you to see. lips blowing away cobwebs, fingers wrapping around door handles inside of him that you throw open and step through without fear.  you make my days better, morales. 

word count: 2.7k warnings: angst, but with happy ending. mention of wound on reader (head and palm). mention (blink and you miss) nod to prev. drug use and ptsd. sad boy frankie not thinking he deserves the girl. jo wrote this because she's twisty inside. an: as the warning states, i angst'd close to the sun. but it ends happy because i'm incapable of not doing so.

He knows it means something that you called him—that you allow him through your front door.

Frankie’s eyes immediately catch sight of your wound—spotting the clotting scarlet and dried cerise. The rip in otherwise perfection that you attempt to hide with a kitchen towel around your palm. 

It’s tugged from you, shutting your front door with his heel as he tries to eye the deepness of the cut. The one which has, at one stage, made tears track down your cheeks—creating a road of pain in your skin.  

You, as to be expected, pretend to feign indifference that he’s here. Forcing it up, all a front. 

He knows he’s the one making you do it.

Your ego-bruised, now matching the hurt that blooms under your skin and around your eye. It’s the sole reason he doesn’t push, just follows when you turn on your heel. Forcing him to watch helplessly as you try, struggle and fail to jump onto your centre island. Frankie only dares step forward when you shoot him a glare—it’s a toxic cocktail of warning and pleading. 

If he has to choose a battle, he knows which one he’d rather be maimed by. Choosing to be burnt by your stare, then risk a further onslaught of a blizzard cast his way as he helps lift you. Turning gentle when you accept his invitation to see, sliding fingers around your wrist, index finger over skin—wanting to whisper an apology when you wince. 

But he swallows it, letting it join the other unspoken words that sit in the depths of him. The ones decaying and rotting. All swallowed back. 

Frankie tells himself you’d think they were empty anyway—bitterness simmering like a broth inside you. Plus, he’s sure it wouldn’t have sounded right from him. Words had never been his forte, his expertise. Least of all when it came to you. 

They always balled up, messily clumping, falling all out of order between loose fingers and delivered with carelessness. Even when he plans them out, mentally shoving doubts and insecurities aside to say something comforting.

It doesn’t matter now. There are no soft eyes or clumped words. Instead, wave-like worry is crashing against him. Taking in your appearance, how you look unsteady. Weak. Dizzy. 

“Ay. ¿Estás bien?” 

He braces for your tongue. 

The brilliant way it manages to both burn, mark and leave people cold when you spit words at whoever has upset you. 

It’s the first thing that made him smile when it came to you. 

Even with Benny stuck to your side, Santiago just behind you, you still have the man hitting on you in the bar embarrassingly storming away—before switching back into a softer, less sharp-edged version of yourself to reply to Benny’s earlier question. 

Now he’s experiencing that same sharpness. You’re frustrated, annoyed—cross, and livid. A sea of synonyms, but none quite hit the mark. 

You don’t snap at him, though, just let four words crack through the silence, all shaky, and trembling: “Me duele la cabeza….”

It’s like you command him, the way his eyes flick up. Your eyes all soft, the harshness ebbed away by the situation—the edges of your aura more welcoming than it’s been for weeks. 

Frankie had spotted the swelling when he arrived, knowing every inch of you like you’re moulded in his mind—painted on the back of his eyelids, seeing you even when he blinks. 

It's easy to slide his hand up, pads gliding over your neck, feeling you swallow as he brushes over your jaw, cheek—turning you to look over the swelling, how it’s rounding out, beginning to change. 

He’s soft when he whispers that you need stitches in your hand, ice for your head, blinking at him. Letting his words hang before forcing yourself to nod—pointing to a box on the counter, the one you’d likely gotten out the moment he told you he was on his way. 

Your voice all hoarse, words catching on teeth as you tell him about the stuff inside the green box, the kit you’d pulled together—the sharp needle and thread, alcohol wipes and bandages.

Only as he rummages, casting a quick glance at you, does he see the veil fall. Spots how your face twists in pain, lashes furiously blinking back tears, your thumb pushing at the skin on your palm—leaving half-moon marks, like a trail around the split skin. 

“Thought you’d have called Pope.” 

Your eyes fall, land on a spot on the ground—living there, fixated as you bite the inside of your cheek. Letting it stew and seethe. 

“I did. Didn’t answer.” 

It’s cold, lacking emotion. But it lands with a punch all the same.

He hates how his heart plummets. Becomes more determined to rummage for nothing forcibly—just so he can choose to keep his head bent, the beak of his hat hiding the discomfort undoubtedly stitched into his face. 

Because it’s his fault, the reason the two of you keep taking chunks out of one another. The dance the two of you have done, the closeness he’s allowed to bridge. 

One minute good friends, next moment wrestling with feelings he's too afraid to say. Then he overcompensates, egging you on to flirt with a man at the bar, with the next second wanting to throttle anyone who looked at you.  

It’s hard to unknot when it changed—when he found it difficult to rip his eyes from you, and you had rooted yourself in his life. 

It could have been somewhere over beers or under the fairy lights at the Miller house—eyes shimmering, smile growing. It also could have been when the stars were too pretty on that camping trip, when you’d moved your sleeping bag closer to him, sleeping under rustling leaves and blinking stars—the two of you waking curled up together, realising for the rocks and sticks in his spine, he’s never slept better. 

It was sealed, all the same, when he’d tugged you down the alleyway, beer tasting on your lips as brick cuts into his hand, his other hand gripping you close—almost bruising. Lost in feeling heaven collide, his world shifting, your mouth moving with his under the flickering bar light, kissing you as though to tell you that you're all he needs.

That’s when it all slid into one, a hot pot of things he can’t discern—a collection of emotions too complex to ascertain. 

You didn’t try to be what he needed, just tried to show kindness—all-second nature, undeserving of a fuck up like him. 

“You gonna stitch me or kiss me, Francisco?” 

Your voice cuts through his thoughts, slicing and ripping memories in two. There’s an edge to it, your words—one that makes him snort—shaking his head as he returns to you, taking your hand gently but leaving no room to fight him. 

Frankie doesn’t ask if you want him to stay. He just stays. 

Once stitched, he helps you off the counter, tells you to change—that he’ll begin cleaning up your accident.

Between the third and fourth stitch, you’d told him how a vegetable caused you to slip, pot and glass shards shattering in the chaos. 

He brushes each of them until he’s sure no piece could ever find your bare foot, then he wipes the crimson from your grout. Only as he lifts his head to stand does he see the edge of the counter, the one at fault for the growing swelling along your brow line. 

An additional reason for the silence your usually acidic tongue fills. It taking a rest, likely as you will your brain to stop thumping. 

He runs his knuckles along it, gritting his jaw, letting his feelings throb in his chest. The ones he’s felt for so long, they’re harder to control—fighting, desperately, to get out and greet your ear. 

Even though he convinces himself you deserve better, there's no one else for him.

What he wants and what you deserve a conflicting push and pull inside of him that have forced awkwardness and silence to take up space in between you.

You deserve someone more whole, without failure and a record to go with it. 

Even if Frankie knows it would be easy to love you—just like it is to breathe. It's part of him, his affection for you. Steadily threaded through his muscles and bones.

But he can’t even meet his own eyes in the mirror when he dresses, never mind hold yours. He’s forever greeted by the parts of him forever changed by the things he’s seen—the things he’s done. The parts altered and desperate for rest—the entire reason white powder greeted his nostrils, to begin with. 

He was, and is, broken and ruined. All poisoned by memories of orders and decisions, pouring down rain and the sound of Benny shouting for Tom. 

Not that you see it. 

You just shine your light with determination through the cracks he allowed you to see. Lips blowing away cobwebs, fingers wrapping around door handles inside of him that you throw open and step through without fear. 

You make my days better, Morales. 

Those words had fallen with ease as you grasped his wrist in your hand, leaving him with a smile that lingered like smoke until it faded in the loud bar. The key to the lock, the thing which melted the chains and made him suggest taking you home, stealing a moment where he could live a fairytale of being able to enjoy you.  

He supposes it’s why he came—rushed, in fact. 

You’re so deeply woven in him, have been for so long, he’s not sure how to ever untangle you from him. For as long as he’s known you, you’ve held him together without even knowing. Sometimes, more than he wanted you to. 

A friend of a friend, a girl who joined the group one night and never left. Etching your name amongst the friends in a way not too dissimilar to how you’d carved your initials into his heart. 

It’s why he tries to rip out his feelings. Attempted to burn them, bury them. 

Endeavoured to be reborn coated in the failings and vermillion he’s been painted in so many times. Let the voices mount, allow the illusions win—that the shadowed parts of his mind create. 

You clear your throat, looking at him, hovering in the doorway in an oversized tee he recognises as his and a pair of fluffy socks. You’re fidgeting, pupils having swallowed all and any colour—no hope or pain living there. 

You’re good at concealing, able to shift and perfectly apply an expression that shields him from your thoughts or feelings, as though attempting to convince him you’re fine. 

You’re not. 

It thrums in the air and needles him. 

Has been doing so since he listened to you try not to shatter when he left that day. Even if he wanted nothing more than to turn back around, marry his lips back to yours, and feel your breaths against his neck. 

You didn’t ask him to stay. He didn’t ask to either. 

Standing there in a robe, fragile and questioning what it is you'd done wrong, not knowing (because he never explained it) that all you were at fault for was falling for him. That you'd bonded yourself to ruin and rubble somehow still shaped like a person.

If you've figured it out, you don't acknowledge it. You're smart, though. Aware.

Your teeth biting the inside of your cheek as the two of you allow awkwardness to bubble, the silence plucking the tension until it thickens and becomes suffocated. 

All because he accepted your invitation that night, instead of declining when he dropped you home. 

Spent the evening and morning showing you what he’s felt for months, a year. Feeling it given back to him, hearing it in the way you pleaded for more and dug your heels into his spine. Please, Frankie. Please. All enthralled in fantasy that was ruined by morning light that illuminated that look in your eyes.

The one you're wearing now. All bewitched and full of adoration because you love him, likely the same as he loves you.

It hurt him, too, to walk away. So much so it irks him on good days and frustrates him on bad ones. It merges with his annoyance at your stubbornness, the ones he’s forced you to have. 

You blink, try to hide from him. Conceal yourself. Try to survive in the watery current of feelings you won’t spill to him again. Opting instead to drown in their storm—the story you told yourself that isn’t anything close to the fable it should have been. 

It tugs at him as he moves closer—the air-tight, constricting around the two of you. His eyes take in every inch of your features—awaiting the micro-expressions, the ones you try to keep back from him.

He shouldn’t curl into your touch, but he does so all the same when light, fairy touches brush his cheek. When you shuffle closer, leaving a gap of barely anything between the two of you. 

It would be easy, less complicated, to kiss you. To surrender, lay down his objections and give in. 

He doesn’t.

The vinyl playing in his head, the one swirling with lyrics about what you deserve, the life you truly want, the type of man who could give it to you. The harmony sang by Santi, the backing whispered by his doubts. 

“Francisco…” 

The way you say his name undoes something.

Each syllable given a chance to stand on its own as it slips into the air with such ease, like an instrumental sound that hopes to compete with the music in his head. 

“You don’t love me?” 

He sighs, soft—barely discernible. “You know I do.” 

You snort, tinged in annoyance and pain different from the one in your hand and head. “Still believe I deserve better?” 

“No lo creo, lo sé.”

Something flickers, trips over your face. Akin to sorrow and disappointment—heartache. 

“Saying it in Spanish doesn’t lessen that you’re choosing for me, Morales.” 

He knows. 

Realises it’s unfair, cruel and an injustice. 

He wants nothing more than to choose you, to let you in. A carnal need rising almost to do so, born from continuous want and grown in worry. Images still present on the back of his lids with each blink, the way your voice had sounded on the phone, the way you’d looked at him when he arrived—the way your expression contorted when he dug the needle in. It all nicked him, tiny slices through him he’d bear for a while.

“…Frankie.” 

Silence.

He lets it bloom. 

Your veil is almost translucent as you stare, pecking at him, pushing him without touching or speaking. 

You’re too good, too kind—it is almost brutish that the world stuck an arrow in you with his name on it. 

“You really call Pope?” 

You swallow, telling him without speaking, before you shake your head. 

He snorts. Takes the words in, chews them—lets it dilute and inflate his heart as it thumps, and thumps. 

“I should have asked you to stay,” you murmur. 

He swallows. “I should have asked to stay.” 

It’s that reason alone why he takes off his cap, throws it on the counter before he turns to look at you. His mask gone, ridden. Yours falling, landing somewhere at your feet. 

Frankie pulls you to his lips, somewhat soft but more intentional. It’s needy, but reserved, awaiting you to melt into him so he knows he can slide the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip and earn himself a whimper. Begin healing the parts he’s self-inflicted by choosing avoidance over acceptance. 

But before he can do that, he wants to heal you. Kiss each edge of you that bore pain from his faux indifference and cold shoulder; each muscle that remained taut because of his excuse that now sounded weak, as the vinyl in his mind came to a stop, vanishing from the player as though it never existed. 

Because with you, like this—albeit without a swollen temple and a stitched palm—things make sense.

You make sense. 

Just like you always have. 

AN: some call it range going from joyous to angst, i call it ✨ sad girl jo

everyone say a huge thanks to @guyfieriii for once again letting me blurt pain at her, and she not only drinks it up, but urges me to make it hurt more. thank you for always collecting my tears and then handing me them back so i can sprinkle them over my work.

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #Frankie morales x y/n

[polaroidpascal]

girls night out || frankie morales

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : frankie morales x f!reader

summary : after spending a night out for your friend’s birthday, you try to sneak back into the house without disturbing frankie. you thought he was a heavy sleeper, but your mischievous boyfriend never fails to surprise you.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, frankie being positively down bad for you, bar outing, alcohol consumption, reader is aware of her decisions and everyone is consenting, mechanical bull shenanigans, p in v sex (practice safe!!), grinding, riding, frankie has a filthy mouth full of praises, lotsss of nicknames, sweet aftercare bc its frankie and he's a sweetheart ofc

WC : ~3k

a/n : happy frankie friday loves !! hope you enjoy 🤭

“What bar is it again?” Frankie calls from the living room.

“It’s called ‘Deo Drinks,” you reply. “Apparently it’s new in town. Anna said she wanted to see what all the fuss is about. Supposed to be pretty nice.”

Tonight is your friend Anna’s birthday, and she wanted to take all of her best friends on a night out to a new local bar that popped up recently. According to her, it’s a nicer venue (as far as bars go, at least), so she suggested that everyone get dressed up nice for the fun of it. You look down when your phone dings, a message from Anna saying:

make sure your outfit is still practical tho! there’s something at the bar i want everyone to try <3

So here you are on a Friday evening, standing in front of your bathroom mirror perfecting your eyeliner, adjusting your hair, waiting to be picked up by your friends. You hear hefty footsteps traversing the hallway, getting closer and closer to your ensuite. You look in the mirror over your shoulder as Frankie rounds the corner. “Hey, check out these pictures of the bar—”

He cuts himself off when he finally looks up to see you. You’re wearing a sheer sparkling black shirt with a simple black tank-top underneath all tucked into your skinny jeans, the whole outfit being tied together with beautifully shiny jewelry and a pair of black heeled ankle boots. In the mirror, you catch his gaze as his eyes size you up and down, unable to pry them from all of the sparkles. You turn around and his eyes finally meet yours.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Baby… you look beautiful,” he says walking toward you, his eyes leaving yours and continuing up and down your body again. “I mean, you always do, but…” His hands trail up to rest at your hips, holding you at a distance so he can look at you.

You stare at his expression until he’s looking at you again, studying your makeup as his pupils visibly grow. You never get tired of watching your effect on him. You finally ask, “So, those pictures?”

“O-oh, right,” he stammers and brings his phone up. “There’s not very many since it’s so new, but I figured you might want to see anyway. Looks pretty cute.” You can hear the small smile creeping on his lips as you watch him scroll through the pictures. You look up again and smile at him, leaning in for a long, sweet kiss. His hands drop down to your waist to bring you closer to his body, but before he can take it further, you both hear the unmistakable sound of a car horn outside.

“That’s them,” you say, breaking away. 

He steals another kiss, humming in protest before freeing you from his grip and smiling down at you. “Go ahead, then. Go have fun.” You smile back, turning away. He playfully smacks your ass and you yelp from surprise.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You look back and give him a wink.

Your friend Emily drives the group to the bar, opting to be the designated driver for the night. Pulling up to the bar, you see the sign and decorations on the building: the bright red neon sign illuminating your face, wooden planks lining the building, and old, fake wooden shutters on the windows. Of course, you think. “‘Deo” for rodeo. It’s a western bar.

Suddenly, your phone goes off again:

Have a good time princess. I’ll be awake to let you in the house later, so call me when you’re on your way. Love you, don’t get too fucked up :)

You chuckle and send back a quick “will do, love you too!” before you walk in with your friends.

The rest of the night is a blast. You learn a few line dances from the regulars in the bar, eat food that’s honestly better than you expected, and drink probably a few too many shots and mixed drinks with the group.

“Guys!” Anna yells, obviously feeling the alcohol at this point. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” She huddles you all together and leans in so everyone can hear better. “There’s a mechanical bull towards the back. I want everyone to try!”

You make your way towards the back and see that, surprisingly, there aren’t many people back here. You approach the bull and everyone lines up for a turn. One by one, you all get on and see how long you can last. When your turn comes, you get an idea. You hand your phone to Emily, the only sober one of the bunch, and ask, “Could you record my turn for me?” She kindly agrees, taking your phone as you kick off your boots and mount the bull.

Back home, Frankie lounges on the couch relaxing in his sweats and a t-shirt, watching some random movie he found. When his phone chimes, he sits up to grab it, sees it’s from you, and opens the message to a video. Before he can even press play, his eyes go wide. 

No fucking way…

He sits up a little straighter and presses play, watching you with bewilderment as you straddle the mechanical bull, meeting every one of its jerks with an equal but opposite rebuttal. He stares at your hips swaying perfectly to keep your balance and your free hand in the air as you exclaim, your friends in the background cheering in excitement. Frankie gazes at your shocked expression. Of course, she’s a natural. He knows exactly why you’re so good at the game, even if you might not.

You ride it so well, but I’d expect nothing less from you ;)

As if he’s being broken from a trance, he notices his sweats feel unusually tight and sees a bulge slowly growing between his legs. He curses the universe that he’s not there with you right now. Though, he probably wouldn’t be able to contain himself anyway, so maybe it’s for the best. He decides that what he really needs is a shower to take care of his… issue.

But nothing will keep that video off his mind for the rest of the night.

By the end of the outing, the only one who can reliably hold her footing is Emily. Birthday girl Anna is by far the drunkest of the bunch, and while you are really not that far behind her, you might be holding your liquor the best of the group. Emily rallies everyone in the car for a ride filled with loud karaoke and copious slurred compliments to each other as she chauffeurs each girl back to their house. You are the second to last passenger to be dropped off, but Emily had planned on staying at Anna’s house anyway, so you were the last stop.

“Do you need me to walk you in?” she asks with a gentle smile through the open window.

“No, no, ‘s okay. Frankie said he left the door open… or something. I don’t remember.” His text from earlier completely slips your mind. “I think he’s sleeping anyway,” you continue with a giggle.

“Okay, I’ll stay here until I see the door close behind you just to make sure you make it in. Goodnight!” she replies.

“G’night!” you say, turning around and making your way to the door. You turn the doorknob as slow as you can and find that Frankie did in fact leave it open for you, but when you walk in, most of the lights are already turned off. You turn and wave to Emily as she pulls off, closing the front door as slowly and quietly as you can. You slip off your boots and leave them at the door, shuffling over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

You creep back to your bedroom in methodic yet messy steps, reaching your bathroom. You smear a makeup wipe across your face in a lazy, drunken attempt to clean it up a little and slip into some random comfy clothes that you aren’t sure are yours or Frankie’s, but you don’t really care. Gazing into your bed, you see Frankie’s silhouette, laying on his side under the covers, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest, thinking about how lucky you feel being able to come home to him.

As you reach down to climb into bed, every intention to spoon Frankie until you fall asleep, you’re interrupted by a hand gently grabbing your forearm. You let out a tiny gasp of surprise. “Frankie?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You made it home alright,” he says sweetly, turning over and sitting up some.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Did you really think I’d go to sleep before I made sure you got home safe?”

You look down a bit, suddenly remembering his text from earlier. “Hmm… no, I guess not. But I definitely forgot you told me you’d be up,” you reply bashfully.

“I heard you as soon as you walked through the door, anyway.” A grin breaks out across his mouth.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised. “Really?”

He lets out a chuckle. “I know you tried, but you weren’t really that good at keeping the noise down.”

You look down and giggle too. You really thought you were being quiet.

“Plus,” he continues, “I couldn’t sleep if I tried, thinking about that goddamn video you sent earlier.”

You think for a second and remember. Ohh, the bull. You grin back at him seeing his eyes grow dark merely remembering it. And now that you’re finally back in front of him, he’s ravenous. “Oh really?” you tease. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? Baby…” he says, reaching up to grab your sides and pull you closer into a gentle but hungry kiss. He pulls away, his lips mere centimeters from yours, and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

You see a glimmer of desperation in his eyes underneath his playful tone and nod. He kisses you again, a little sloppier this time as he guides you to straddle him. You lean down and melt into his lips, your tongues waltzing together. You can already feel the outline of his cock stiffening up in his pants and you subconsciously guide your hips up and down the growing bulge. 

He growls into your mouth and you swallow the noise, suddenly aware of the warm wetness growing between your legs. You keep grinding, feeling him get harder and harder, moving your kisses across his cheek and down his jaw. He groans as you lick the muscle flexing on his neck when he tilts back to give you better access. You kiss back up to his ear, nipping at the lobe and whisper softly, “Touch me, Frankie…”

His hands wander down from your face to the bottom of your shirt and he pulls it off over your head freeing your tits to the colder air of the room. His lips immediately attach to you, licking and sucking at your nipple and drawing sweet moans from your lips. He hums back at you, the vibrations reverberating against your skin and moving down between your legs as another wave of wetness fills your panties.

“Frankie… need you inside…” you whine, his tongue furiously working against the hardening bud. “Please…”

“Mmm, always such a needy girl,” he says. “Be a little patient. I missed you.” He helps you out of your soaked underwear and sees just how wet you are. “Fuck princess, you really are needy…”

His hand resting on your hip glides over to your middle, his thumb ghosting over your clit as your hips buck forward chasing the new sensation. You whine as he slowly, agonizingly teases the sensitive bundle of nerves and stares at your face watching it contort with pleasure.

“Yes, Frankie… needy jus’ for you… all you…” you whimper breathlessly at his touch. He loves when you’re like this, losing yourself to the sensations he gives you, soaking him with your slick. He can feel your wetness soaking through his sweats as your naked core rubs against his fingers and clothed cock. 

“Goddamn, gorgeous. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he teases, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, please…” you mewl. You keep grinding against him, the pressure in your lower belly building quicker and quicker. “Fill me up… please… wanna come on your cock…”

A guttural moan rumbles in his chest at that and he lifts you slightly to free his throbbing cock from his pants, precome already making the tip sparkle. He loses the pants completely and he guides you to lower down onto him. “Thaaat’s it baby… fuck, feel so good and warm,” he encourages, your walls welcoming him with every inch added inside. You gasp and moan at the stretch despite being so wet that you’re practically dripping for him. You quickly settle and feel positively stuffed. “Perfect fit. Pussy was made for me, princess.” He brings you down for a deep kiss before he says, “Now, show me how you rode that bull.”

You sit up and rest your hands on his chest for support as you slowly rock your hips forward and backward, gripping his shirt as you go. Sinful moans fill the room when you glide forward feeling the skin on his belly rub perfectly against your clit at the same time. “Fuck, Frankie…”

“Doing so good princess,” he praises, using his hands on your hips to help guide you back and forth, encouraging you to slowly pick up speed. “Yeah, ride me like you rode that bull, baby. Fuck… show me how good you are.” You sit up and pick up speed a bit at the praises he gives you, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “Yes, beautiful. You’re so good. Gonna come on my cock baby?” 

Your walls flutter around him and he groans at the feeling. “Mhm,” you reply in a high-pitched whine and a nod. You claw at his shirt wanting to feel his skin. “Want this off. Wanna feel you.”

Frankie lifts up a little, ripping the shirt off his body and tossing it off the bed. Your hands roam his chest, feeling him up and down. Your face contorts at the sudden tightness in your abdomen. “Gonna come for you… oh my god…”

“That’s it, keep going… come for me baby, let me feel you squeeze me.. so good…” Frankie drives his hips up just a little as you grind yourself to a shaking orgasm on top of him, crying out in pleasure and collapsing onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you and keeps fucking into you, letting you ride out your orgasm on top of him.

He keeps going, slower now as you come down from your high, holding you in place with those perfectly muscular arms. “My good little cowgirl, wish I could have been there to watch you earlier,” Frankie praises as he moves and you’re teetering on the edge of overstimulation. While you’re still a little dazed from the booze, your senses are heightened nonetheless, and he fills them all. His scent fills your nose as you bury it into the crook of his neck, you feel his burning touch wrapped around your body, and you hear the sweet sounds and praises he mutters into your ear.

“Frankie… ‘m gonna come again…” you manage to whimper out.

“Already princess? Feels that good, huh?” he teases, but he’s barely holding on himself. You can feel the unmistakable throbbing of his cock inside of you. “Go ahead, baby. Come on my cock… not gonna last too much longer either…”

The rolling waves of pleasure overtake you quicker than you thought they would. Without a chance to warn him, you convulse under his touch, soaking him in your pleasure and writhing on top of him. Your muffled cries fill the room and send Frankie into a frenzy, fucking into you with sloppy, hard thrusts.

“Fuck yes, baby… ’m so close… my little cowgirl, ride me so good… fuck!” he yells and quickly pulls out, dropping one hand from around your body to pump his length, spilling all over his stomach in between your bodies. His legs shake and so do yours, barely able to keep yourself hovered over him. You meet his grunting with your own whimpering as you both pant your way through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You stay laying on his chest, still held there by Frankie’s other arm and panting into his neck. Your tired eyes stay closed and you just want to lay right here on top of him with his sticky mess between you both. And you do, for a while, Frankie unable to completely catch his breath from the ride you just gave him, until he finally chirps up, “I knew you’d be an expert, princess.”

You smile and giggle. You remember hoping earlier when you sent him that video that it would drive him crazy like this, and your plan worked. “Knew you’d wanna see it first hand,” you murmur through tiredness, lingering alcohol, and complete fucked-out bliss.

He gently flips you over and lays you in the bed, getting up to retrieve a towel and clean up his mess. He wipes his stomach walking back over to the bed and gently does the same to you, pressing a kiss right below your belly button. You hum quietly and he gives you another kiss on your forehead. When Frankie climbs back into bed, you tuck yourself into his arms getting swallowed in his embrace, both of you wiggling into a comfortable position before you sigh, satisfied in every way you possibly could be.

“Goodnight, cowgirl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head. He can tell from the feeble attempt at a response that you’re nearly asleep, and he hugs you a little tighter before you both doze off together.

a/n : could possibly have a fluffy little sequel for this if anyone would ever maybe want that...

#francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #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 #im nothing if not delusional

[psychedelic-ink]

fuck it I love you.

pairing: frankie "catfish" morales x fem!reader

genre: smut, hurt/comfort

word count: 4.3k

summary: pope's his best friend, he shouldn't get jealous when you talk to him– he really shouldn't. But how can he not when you've been turning a blind eye to all of his all the flirting he's been doing for the past month?

warnings: jealous!frankie, possessive!frankie, reader struggling with self worth, pov switch, cum eating/sharing, oral (receiving), piv, dirty talking, lots of praise, mutual pining, dumb misunderstandings, creampie, nicknames

a/n: this might be one of the filthiest things I've personally written, also this was requested by my beloved @inklore for the prompt "do you think you deserve this?" but since it ended up being longer then a drabble (I have no self control) decided to make it it's own post <3

requests open for pedro pascal characters, moon knight & peter parker 💌

masterlist | AO3

The music in the bar is pleasant, a nice cool breeze blowing from the small fans scattered all around the small, yet cozy, space. Frankie enjoyed coming here. He especially enjoyed it when the company was to his liking. The laughter, the conversations, all of it tickled the inside of his stomach in the most enjoyable way. 

Tonight, however, despite having the gang back together, plus you, he doesn’t feel that giddy. 

His back is snug against the leather of the booth, the rim of his comically large beer glass touching his bottom lip as he glares at you and Santi. Typically, Frankie isn’t the type to get jealous. He knew Pope was a flirt and that it meant absolutely nothing, being a chivalrous man was as natural to him as breathing. You, on the other hand, wasn’t the type to flirt just because. He isn’t even sure if you are flirting or not. The only thing he does know is that you’re laughing at his unfunny jokes and touching his arm whenever you can. It’s clear to him that you’re tipsy, in all his years of knowing you you had proven to be quite a light weight, but still the closeness the two share annoys him. 

It didn’t help that you were staying with them during your visit. Hotels were expensive so of course both him and Santi had offered you to stay. They did have an extra room after all, what’s the point of it if no one stays?

Frankie, unlike his flirtatious best friend, isn’t the best at sweeping someone off their feet but he isn’t the worst either. He’s somewhat aware that he’s easy on the eyes nonetheless he can’t just bat his eyelashes when he wants someone to approach him. 

He has… some moves– some of them which he had tried on you during your visit– the aforementioned “moves” consisted of compliments, some light touches here and there yet it was clear to him that you weren’t interested. You didn’t shy away from him but you didn’t exactly do anything either. He just gave up after a while, he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

Santi, of course, soaked up all of the awkwardness, teasing Frankie whenever the opportunity arose. The asshole even offered to give him lessons in how to woo a woman. Fucking smug bastard. 

So yeah, he’s positive Santi’s not actually trying to romanticize you. Sadly, he didn’t share the same confidence when it comes to you. 

The crease between his brows deepens when you burst out laughing and drop your head on Santi’s shoulder, your arm thrown around Benny’s neck. Santi briefly glances at Frankie, his lips parting with a chuckle despite the worry written in his eyes. Frankie huffs and lowers his glass back to the table. He needs to leave. Either he leaves or he’s raising hell and that wouldn’t do anything other than make an ass out of himself. 

Just as he’s getting up he hears your voice. His ass is left awkwardly hanging an inch up from the booth when he turns his gaze to you. 

“Are you leaving?” 

Fuck, the soft whine in your tone shoots right to his cock. He licks his lips and nods, trying to ignore the stirring in his lower abdomen. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling a bit…tired,” 

While sounds of disapproval rise from the rest of the group, Santi only raises an eyebrow. You lift your head up from his shoulder and clumsily get up from your seat, almost knocking one of the glasses over but thankfully Benny moves it just in time. 

“I should head back too, I wanna go to the farmers market early in the morning–” 

“Pope can drive you back,” 

The harshness in his tone not only surprises you but also him. The air stills for a moment, an uncomfortable silence consuming the group. Frankie ignores the way Santi frowns and only focuses on the way your bottom lip quivers, guess his plan about not making an ass of himself failed. Lifting his cap, he cards his hair back and places it back on, he clears his throat. 

“I–I need make a couple of stops before heading home, that’s why I–” 

You cut him off, your voice dripping with venom. 

“It’s okay, I get it if you don’t want me around,” 

If what Frankie said didn’t make the atmosphere uncomfortable, what you just said certainly did. His eyebrows disappear under the loose strands of his hair, eyes wide as his lips part in hopes to say anything that might ease the tension rising. Frankie has no idea why you said the thing that you said and he’s not sure if he wants to find you. 

In a last ditch effort to salvage the situation, he turns his gaze to Santi, their eyes meet and the other man playfully nudges you in the shoulder. 

“Come on cariño, he didn’t mean it like that. You should go,” 

Frankie takes a mental note to treat Pope for lunch later. 

When he turns back to you, you’re already staring at him, your lips a thin line. After exchanging glances, you nod and side shimmy out of the booth. Frankie groans as you say nothing and head straight for the door. 

“Man, that was brutal,” Benny chimes, a soft whistle accompanying his words. “Why did you even say that?” 

“Because he’s an idiot,” Santi adds with the roll of his eyes. “That excuse was weak, hermano. Where are you even going to go at this hour?” 

“Fuck me if I know. She looked really pissed too– What did she even mean by that? Why wouldn’t I want her around?” 

“Maybe because you avoid her like the plague when we’re home?” Santi replies with an amused glance and intoxicating curve of his lips. “If I were you I would start by saying sorry,” 

Frankie glances towards the door, the trail you left feels cold, his heart sinks into your chest. 

“Yeah, probably. Anyway–” 

He places his hand on Santi’s shoulder right before heading towards the door. 

“Don’t be late.” 

“Pope can drive you back,” 

The words still echo in your mind. He was such a slap in the face, you knew something was wrong. You fucking knew it. Even when Santi continuously told you everything was fine, you knew Frankie was angry at you. He had to be by the way he was avoiding you. 

And you damn well know why he was acting like that. It’s no secret that you had a minor infatuation with Frankie. You like him, he’s nice, funny and always by your side whenever you felt like the world was burning. The problem is that he sees you only as a friend and nothing more. Which is what you expect, no one ever sees you more than a friend. That’s your role in life. The one no one loves, at least, not in a romantical sense. And when Frankie got a whiff of your emotions, he pulled himself back. Typical. Soon he would outright just stop talking to you. It happened a million times before and it’ll happen a million times after. 

Looking up to the dark sky you sigh, the cold begins to seep into your skin, hugging yourself to stay warm you blink rapidly. You want to cry. It’s foolish of you but deep down you had hoped that Frankie would be different, that he would see you for you and love you for you. But you guess that was just a hopeless dream. 

A sudden warmth engulfs you and you jump, before you can turn Frankie is walking ahead of you, his jacket draped across your shoulders. 

“Let’s go,” he says, voice gruff. 

You stay in place for about a second, lips parted as you stare at him. You urge your legs to move but they stay glued to the concrete, your fingers come up to the jacket’s collar and tugs at it. Frankie’s scent files your nostrils, mint with a hint of cinnamon. Your pulse quickens and you take another languid breath of him, a soft moan parts your lips when you drag your attention back to Frankie. 

When he notices your lack of presence he turns and tilts his head. 

“You coming?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

The drive back is awkward. You know it, he knows it. 

And just as you suspected, he didn’t have anywhere to go, he just wanted to avoid you. 

You don’t say a word as you move past him to go inside, you let your bag fall to the floor and kick off your shoes. When you hear the door closing behind you, you’re already made it halfway to your room. 

“Can we talk?” he calls out. “I know I pissed you off, at least let me explain,” 

With a broken sigh, you head back. He’s already removed his signature cap, which in return made you realize you still have his jacket across your shoulders. With a grown, you place it on the back of the couch and turn back to him. 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” you say a bit sharper than you initially intended. “I know why you’re trying to avoid me,” 

“Avoid you?” he blinks. “This again, I’m not trying to–” 

You snort, arms crossed in front of you. 

“Yeah right, I’ve done this dance a million times, Frank. Whenever anyone gets a whiff that I like them they decide they want nothing to do with me anymore. I get it. I’m used to it.” 

Silence follows and you’re somewhat pleased to cut your losses without completely destroying your heart in the process. 

“Is that really what you think?” 

You meet his gaze, heart nearly leaping out of your throat at his tone. Anger, you quickly identify. You’ve never heard him like this, voice trembling, a hint of a growl at the end of his sentence. 

“I’ve been trying to let you know how I feel since you’ve got here. All you did was ignore me and drool over Pope. I am not the villain. You do not get to make me out to be one when I’ve been trying all this time.” 

“I never flirted with him,” you whisper, averting your eyes. “Look, I get it. I do. Really. It’s not your fault, I’m not easy to love but you don’t have to lie about having feelings for me. All you had to do was talk to me. You could’ve told me to back off and I would, I thought we were friends,” 

Your vision is blurry when Frankie walks up to you, his hands squeezing your upper arms as a sign that you should look up to him. His gaze is softer now but it’s not enough to heal you. You’re suffocating. You can’t breathe, think, or feel. All you want to do is hide from the world and remove yourself from this situation. 

“Listen to me,” he grits his teeth. “I. Am. Not. Lying– Stop selling yourself short. You always do this. Just breathe and think for a moment, why would I lie?” 

Wet eyelashes kiss the underside of your eyes, a tear slipping from between them. The world spins, leaving only him and you in the middle of a hurricane. His one hand slides up to cup your cheek, he swipes the tear away with the inside of his thumb. Your chest heaves. Frankie’s leaning in closer and closer, you only realize what his intention is when you feel the firm press of his lips, tenderly moving against yours. 

Frankie breathes you in, tongue licking your lips as a silent plea for more. Heart fluttering, you open yourself for him, he mimics your movement, opening his mouth wide while pressing his tongue against yours. His other hand comes up to your other cheek, holding your face tenderly. Tears roll down your cheeks and he kisses them away, his lips wet when they travel back down to meet your own. 

“Frankie,” you whisper into his open mouth. “Frankie, I need more,” 

He mouths at the underside of your jaw, nipping your skin as he grins. His hands slide down to cup your breast, squeezing them, he coaxes a moan out of you. 

“After everything you put me through tonight– After flirting all night in front of me– do you think you deserve it?

“I–I–” 

His grin widens at your loss for words, lips still moving across your skin. 

“I’m just kidding, mi vida. Thought some humor would lighten the mood,” 

The tension you’ve been building up for the past couple of days melts when you feel his lips once more. His open palms smooth over your curves, tongue deep in your mouth as he tastes the silent moans slipping from your lips. You’re unaware he’s leading you somewhere, your feet move without the knowledge of where to go. But you don’t care. Not when his fingers are viciously pulling at your shirt and tugging it over your head, giving you only a moment to breathe before crashing his lips against yours once more. 

You’re falling, surroundings nothing but a blur as he sucks you down into the pit of intoxicating lust. You can almost feel the wind grazing against your burning skin–  

Wait, you’re actually falling. 

A gasp rips from your throat when you find yourself sprawled across the softness of a bed. Despite the blurriness of your eyes, you quickly identify the room not belonging to Frankie but to Santi. Unlike Frankie’s room that smells airy and fresh, Santi’s space smells of smoke and the overwhelming scent of bergamot that belongs to his perfume. 

“Fran–shit,” 

You’re interrupted by your own moan that suddenly slips from your lips. Frankie’s looking down at you, eyes a shade darker with lust and want. Eyes linger on the thick outline of his cock, his lips curl up, he palms the bulge, slowly and accompanied by the delicious roll of his hips. 

“Do you have any idea–” he rasps, hand continuing to stroke his clothed cock. “––how many times I’ve dreamed of this? How I imagined your wet pussy wrapped around my cock, your legs spread wide as I fuck you? Do you know how many times I helplessly humped some pillow just to have some semblance of your presence?” 

You moan at his words, the wetness between your legs grows. Just the thought of him moaning and whining while grinding against a pillow, thinking of you, it makes you ache for him even more. 

“Does that turn you on?” he muses, undoing the button of your pants and tugging the fabric down. “Me, coming into my fist an ungodly amount of times just thinking of you? Dirty girl,” 

His name parts from your lips in the form of a whine. 

“Don’t wear out my name just yet, you’ll be screaming it a lot tonight,”

Frankie’s fingers trace the seam of your underwear, he watches the way your thighs tremble for him. He presses his fingers between your clothed folds, feeling the moisture dampening the tips of his fingers. 

“Already so wet, I’ve done nothing else other then talk,” 

His eyes meet yours, your heart stills at the exchange. 

“Do you want me to fuck you on top of Santi’s bed?” 

Fuck, you don’t want to answer that, it’s too embarrassing. But despite forcing your lips to stay shut, your body doesn’t get the memo. Heat spurs between your legs, the dark patch on your underwear spreading. He chuckles, eyes never leaving yours as he starts to draw slow circles around your clit– It feels like electricity surging across your body. The pressure builds and you can’t help but raise your hips off of the mattress, meeting the caress of his hand. 

“I want to hear it from you baby, say it.” 

“I do,” you breathe out. “Please fuck me right here right now,” 

“Your wish is my command, princesa. Turn over,” 

All thoughts desert you while you shuffle on top of thick sheets. You raise your ass into the air, effectively burying your face into the sheets that smell exactly like Santi. For a split second it confuses you, especially when Frankie’s scent is nowhere similar to his friend. 

“You’re perfect,” he hums, hand going up and down your back, feeling the dip of your waist. “So obedient, so generous, so beautiful– Fuck, how could you even think I would want to avoid such a pretty thing,” 

The sudden feeling of his cock between your wet folds makes you jump, but he quickly eases you with the tender touch of his lips between your shoulder blades. 

“Did you enjoy riling me up all night?” he murmurs. “Well it doesn’t matter. You belong to me don’t you?” 

He continues to drag his cock, every time his length brushes the sensitive bundle of nerves you gasp, your body left shivering uncontrollably. His voice is dripping with sin, it’s like having the devil’s tongue licking your ear, you can’t fight it and you don’t want to. 

“You’re mine aren’t you?” 

“I am– I’m yours Frankie,” 

“Good,” 

You whine when the warmth of his lips disappear. He kneads the mounds of your ass, groaning at the way your drips across his cock, drenching it with your slick. Your breath is so stuttery that it’s basically just a string of short, sharp breaths. You want him. You need him. The illicit thrill of being fucked on top of Santi’s bed stirs you on, it makes you even more needy and desperate. All you can smell is the bergamot and the heavy scent of your slick. His nails rake across your back, the blunt tip of his cock teasing your entrance. 

“You’re shaking,” 

He leans in, mouth an inch away from your ear as soft whimpers fall from your lips. You’re on the verge of crying, you want him so bad that it physically hurts. 

“Tell me,” his breath ghosts over your damp skin, goosebumps erupting across your body. “Have you ever thought of me while fingering yourself? Did you imagine me fucking you just like this, right on top of my bestfriends bed– Or did you imagine me taking you in the kitchen, is that why you offer to cook everynight? To entice me with a good show of your behind?” 

Your defense is violently caught in your throat when he slams all of himself inside you without warning. The thickness of his cock walks the borderline of being painful and pleasurable, choked out breaths tears away from your lungs, the two feelings mixing into a mind numbing sensation. The way your pussy clutches tightly around him makes his hips stutter forward, pushing even deeper as he bites into your shoulder. 

“Fuck, baby– You’re gonna make me cum quick if you squeeze like that,” 

Mouth parting wide, you moan at his words, your insides fluttering around him. Spit dribbles out from the corner of your lips and wets the sheets underneath. Fuck, Santi was going to be pissed. 

“Mine,” he growls, straightening his back and holding your hips. “Mine, mine, mine–” 

Your eyes roll back when he starts to move his hips. Cock sliding nearly all the way out before he rocks back into you with full force. But despite all of that, he’s holding back. You can feel it in the way his fingers twitch from where they dig into your hips. The sound of your guttural moans fills the air, a string of curses mixed with his name is screamed into the sheets. Your body is on fire. It turns into an object of desire, a tool for Frankie to use as a means for his own pleasure. 

You don’t mind, in fact you want him to take whatever he wants, you would be content with just this. Him, buried deep inside you, all the time. Not another thought lingering in your muddled mind. 

Frankie’s falling apart behind you, his own moans catching up to yours. He leans forward, clothed chest flushed against your naked back. You want to feel more of his skin but your pleas for it are nothing but incoherent whines. His arms coil tightly around you like a snake, pulling you even closer as he ruts into you like a wild animal. 

You can hear the silent whimpers of ‘mine’ being repeated to you again and again. 

Frankie’s about to explode. 

You’re squeezing him tight, a sheer coat of your slick forming a ring at the base of his cock. He’s somewhat aware you’re trying to ask for something, and if he wasn’t so far gone into his own pleasure he would tease you to speak up. But with the curve of your ass pressed against his pelvis, his cock coaxing all the sweet noises he wanted to hear since forever…he just can’t think anymore. 

He presses wet kisses into your skin. You’re making a mess out of Santi’s sheets, spit and slick dripping out of you like the most beautiful fountain he’s ever seen. In his mind, fucking you right here, on top of his best friend’s bed, solidifies the notion that you belong to him and only him. Fuck, he’s acting like a dog marking it’s territory. It was stupid but the way pleasure rings in his ears makes him think otherwise. 

“I’m about to cum,” he groans, the pace of his hips quickening. 

Frankie pulls you up with him, hand sprawled across your stomach while the other wraps around your throat. Another moan escapes him when you squeeze around him like some goddamn condiment. He’s surprised when you reach out and grab his wrist, the pressure is enough for him to slow down. 

“Frankie…I–I love you, you know that right?” 

His eyes widen, heart nearly beating out of his chest as he drags his lips across the column of your neck. He doesn’t want you to think anymore. He wants to fuck every thought out of your pretty head. 

Pulling back, Frankie slams his hips, he repeats it, again and again until you’re left a babbling mess. You tighten around him, moans and cries falling from your lips as his cock slides in and out. His lips are latched against your ear, his words practically a growl when he speaks. 

“Te amo, con todo, mi vida,” 

Your head falls over his shoulder, he mouths the underside of your jaw. He wants to ruin you, he wants to feel the way you convulse around him. His hand slides to your core, drawing quick, small circles around your aching clit. You cry out, panting as you gasp for air. 

“Con todo, todo,” 

Frankie nearly chokes when you come undone around him. Your tight pussy clenching and gushing while he continues to grind his cock deeper. He keens at the way you desperately throw your arms back and pull his head in a desperate attempt for a kiss. Finding it cute, he allows you to tug him close. He tastes the euphoria on your tongue, it makes his head spin. The pressure inside him builds with each stroke of your tongue, it builds and builds until he can’t take it anymore, every time he thrusts into you his eyes roll back– It takes him one more to follow in your footsteps and cum. 

His eyelids flutter as he moans into your open mouth, warmth builds around his cock, hips continuing to push forward while he fills you to the brim. He grits his teeth at the way your insides clamp around him, your moans filling the room. 

Frankie gently lays you down on your back. You're breathing heavily, chest heaving as you look up to him. He watches the way your legs part so he could nestle between them, but instead he eats up the sight of his cum dripping out of you. The sight makes his softening cock twitch with interest. A soft whimper falls from you when he presses his lips against the inside of your thigh, mouth leaving a wet trace of open mouthed kisses as it finds your wet core. 

Your eyes roll back when you feel the swipe of his tongue, he moans at his own taste, the vibrations making the dwindling rush of your orgasm spiking once again across your body. 

He looks up to you, observes the way your brows furrow with pleasure, lips parting in ecstasy as his tongue delves deeper. Gripping your thighs, he gently pushes them over his shoulder, pulling your pussy flush against his hungry lips. You writhe at the building pleasure, legs trembling while he licks you clean. 

Sucking more of himself into his mouth, Frankie slides up your body and crushes his lips against yours. When your lips part he pushes the cum into your mouth with his tongue, relishing in the way you moan for him, swallowing hungirly at what he has to offer. 

His cock is semi hard when you wrap your legs around his waist, he grins as he pulls back, a look of mischief glittering in his eyes. 

“Seems like someone’s eager for another round,” 

“It’s just,” you pant, rolling your hips against his cock. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, I can’t help it. Also–” you fist at his shirt. “I don’t want anything between us, Frankie,” 

Just as he leans in to capture your lips, there’s a loud, almost violent, knock at the door. 

“You two better get that shit cleaned!” Santi pipes from the other side of the door. “Until then I’ll take the guest bedroom– For fuck’s sake, after all the trouble I’ve been through to get you guys together. Un-fucking-believable,” 

“Whoops,” Frankie mutters against your lips, his grin wide. “So where were we?” 

“We should–” 

“We’ll apologize to him tomorrow,” he cuts you off, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You should focus on me, mocosa,”   

“Alright,” you whisper with a smile. “You’re all that matter to me, nothing else,” 

Frankie decorates your face with fleeting, soft kisses. His heart practically melts at the words– 

“Wait, did you just call me a brat?” 

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

[jake-g-lockley]

hi there! I'd love to request prompt 4 and/or 7 with Frankie Morales, please, I would actually start screaming, hope you're having a lovely day <3

Chocolate Eyes (Frankie Morales x reader) Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompts: The hand behind their nape when they’re embarrassed, Almost kissing but someone walks in 0_0 A/N: Hi there!! Thanks for the ask <3! I hope you’re having a lovely day too. Frankie fluff is like a drug to me, so I hope you like this hehe Word Count: 1.6k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your best friend waddled around the room, looking for a dress that she had been begging you to try on. She moved particularly quickly for someone so heavily pregnant and it made you very anxious.

“Slow down Jess, you’re going to push that baby out of you.” you chastised her with a small chuckle.

Jessica yanks the white and blue sundress from her closet with a “Tada!”. You stare at it, wondering whether you could look even remotely pretty from something so beautiful. It had a low neckline, puffy sleeves and screamed summer but you shook your head, feeling that you could not pull it off.

“Oh come on, honey, you’ll look great. Trust me, you’ll definitely turn some heads.” she said, kissing your forehead and wiggling her eyebrows.

You rolled her eyes at her comment. She didn’t mean “some heads”, she was talking about one specific head that you’d pick out of the 7.8 billion heads on the planet. It had been a few years since you saw him, with you going to university. You had given up on him after he didn’t show up to Jessica’s wedding to William Miller, willing yourself to forget about him.

But here you are, a small sad frog playing on your broken heartstrings, trying to piece back together the feelings that you had for Frankie Morales. You missed his curly brown hair that was hidden under his cap and his beautiful smile that was accentuated by a perfect little dimple on his right cheek. You missed his eyes, the beautiful eyes that were the colour of freshly melted chocolate and were full of so much kindness.

You gave Jessica a small smile as she rubbed your shoulder sympathetically.

“Look, this is your chance to get to know all of the cute young bachelors that are going to be at the baby shower. I’m not letting you go without dolling you up. After all, this can just be my practice round before this little princess grows up.” she says, rubbing her tummy.

“Fine, as long as you don’t make me look like a clown.”

“Aye, aye, captain!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jessica kept her word and you gasped at your reflection when she turned the makeup chair around. Soft makeup adorned your face, accentuating your features and your hair fell around your head in magnificent curls. A jewelled headband adorned your head and the dress fit perfectly. You gave Jessica a big hug before holding her hand and leading her downstairs for her baby shower that you had been preparing for all day. At the bottom of the stairs you were met with Santiago who gave you the biggest smile and hugged you tightly.

“¡Ay, chica! When did you take your nose out from your books and decided to visit us?” He chuckled as you pout and punched him playfully in the stomach.

“Oh I’d save that punch for someone else if I were you, if you know what I mean.” he said almost immediately and you frowned further, administering another punch, making him groan. “Leave her alone Pope, how’ve you been, sweetheart.” Benny pulled you out of Santiago’s arms and into his, making you squeal.

“All good, Benny, still being a menace?” you smile sweetly up at the 6 feet tall man.

“As always.” he replied with a small smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but look around for Frankie, your eyes searching hopefully willing for them to meet his sweet brown ones, but to no avail. You sigh and help Jessica to her seat, when the front door opens and the atmosphere of the room changes. Your heart stilled the moment Frankie waltzed through the door, every cell in your body screaming for oxygen as you conveniently forgot how to breathe.

He looked different, a little older with a few grey hairs decorating his crown of brown curls. He had ditched his usual hat and casual shirts for a more formal button down and slacks. The crows feet were more prominent at his eyes when he grinned, but they framed the same beautiful eyes that you had been looking for all these years.

He stopped in his tracks when he looked at you but he didn’t look surprised at your presence, but more of your appearance. He took a second to look you up and down and you blushed, a smile creeping up your face as Jessica tapped your hand. William shoved Frankie’s shoulder with his, nudging him forward. It was then when you noticed he was holding two bouquets.

He knelt down in front of Jessica and kissed her forehead, handing her a bouquet of beautiful pink roses which she cooed at. He then slowly stood up and turned to you, his eyes big and wide as he took in your appearance from up close. You wanted to scream at him, hit him and walk away but you were held captive by his matured beauty. His hand found yours and he brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently, sending an array of butterflies to attack your insides.

“Hi.” he whispered and you didn’t realise how much you missed the sound of his voice.

“Hi.” you said back as you clutched the hand that he kissed close to your heart.

He handed you a bouquet of blue dyed Gardenias and you took a second to glare down at Jessica who was busy sipping on her juice and grinning at her husband.

“They’re beautiful, Francisco, thanks.” you whispered and he raised a hand to the nape of his neck and blushed.

You couldn’t help but grin at his bashfulness, letting him stir you aside as guests started to pile into the house with gifts and well wishes for Jessica. He plucked a flower from your bouquet and tucked it behind your ear, letting his hand slide down to graze your jaw and tip your chin up to meet his eyes.

“You look heavenly.” he breathed.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” you say, feeling yourself get dizzy from all of the attention he was giving you.

Your sweet dream was broken when Santiago yelled, “Catfish, you simp, come here we gotta toast!”

You rolled your eyes at your boys and smiled down at the beautiful bouquet, your heart feeling content for the first time in a long time.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You busied yourself with carrying the gifts up to the nursery, arranging them in piles so that the Millers could have a proper look at them once the party was over. A soft knock sounded at the door and before you could say anything, Frankie opened the door and slipped inside. You smiled at him and he carefully approached you, sitting cross legged beside you.

“Sorting the gifts, huh? Anything good in here?” his first full sentence to you in years made you look up from your work instantly.

“Other than burp clothes and tons of nappies, nothing that we could use.” you chuckled.

Frankie reached out and grabbed a big teddy bear, observing its face before hugging it close to his chest. The action made your heart yearn bad and you stifled a smile as you watched him snuggle his nose into the bear’s head.

“How’ve you been, miel?” he asked, tilting his head so that his eyes met yours again.

“Could have been better, you?”

“About the same as you.” he replied, sighing into the teddy.

“Feels like I’m missing something.” you decided to casually take a leap.

“Me too, miel.”

Frankie straightened his back and scooted closer to you, the smell of his cologne enveloping you in sweet memories. You bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows, almost as if you were pleading with him to do something about the gap that was between the both of you. Slowly, he got closer and closer, until you could count every single one of his eyelashes that framed his eyes perfectly.

If you tipped your head slightly to the right, your lips would have been on his and you would have felt complete but the door swings open for a second time, causing the both of you to jump away from each other. Benny Miller stood there holding a bottle of wine in one hand and his tie in the other and you mentally cursed him for his perfect timing. His eyes were wide as saucers as he noted the way your hand magically clutched onto Frankie’s thigh.

“Andddd that's another moment ruined by Benjamin Miller. You’re welcome folks.” he said, giving you both a two fingered salute and scurrying away before Frankie could come to his senses and beat the living daylights out of his best friend.

You found yourself giggling, remembering the other moment ruined by Benny that included his brother and your best friend attempting to get some alone time together.

“Oh that bastard, I’m going to kill-” Frankie attempted to stand up but you pulled him down, tired of waiting any longer.

“Shut up, Frankie.” You breathed before letting yourself fall onto the carpet and pulling Frankie down with you, causing his lips to come crashing down against yours with a shocked groan getting caught in his throat. He immediately took hold of the reins and kissed you back, years of tension easing from the way his lips moved against yours in a slow dance.

He pulled away only when he started to suffocate, refusing to leave the safe sanctuary of your soft breaths against your face. He kissed your forehead, nose and cheeks before lying down beside you and staring at the impressive mural that William had painted on the ceiling of the nursery. He laced his fingers with yours and kissed the back of your hand again, before clutching it close to his heart as his breathing slowed.

“We should do that more often.” you whisper into the air.

“We really should.” he whispered back, a smile gracing his face. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~~~

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[thot-of-khonshu]

All Access

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Summary: It's 1975 and you're one of the rare women given the opportunity to write for Rolling Stone. When you get the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with the hottest band in the US, Triple Frontier, you're welcomed into their den of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. But what happens when you fall for their bass player and it becomes more than just a story?

Fic Content: 70s rock band au! triple frontier, explicit sex, heavy drug use

New Chapters Every Monday

Chapters:

Chapter 1: You go see Triple Frontier at the Chateau Marmont for your story. You dabble into their world of sex, drugs and rock and roll...and you and Frankie bond.

Chapter 2: You're officially on the road with Triple Frontier and you try to adapt to a boys club. After Benny makes a misogynistic comment, you lean into the arms of Frankie.

Chapter 3

4 / 5 / 6 / 7

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales x you #triple frontier au #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic

[moralesispunk]

Gold Band

Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie considers that he may be a little possessive, just a little

Warnings: established relationship, (respectfully) possessive, masterbation m/f, unprotected sex, one (joking, maybe) mention of a collar, breeding kink

Word Count: 1.7k

Frankie often prides himself on being a rational man. Level-headed. Able to view any situation objectively.

It’s a virtue that kept him alive for his twenty years in the military, is one that now keeps him patient when dealing with even the most pretentious of clients at his private-hire helicopter tour business.

He is rational and he tells himself that now, repeating it over and over again even as he peels the label off of his beer while watching a man sidle up to you at the bar. He’s young, handsome, sending you a flirty smile while you send him a polite one in return, throwing a genuine smile across your shoulder to Frankie. The man understands, his eyes dropping down to where your hand rests on the bar, before he backs off with an apologetic smile.

He is rational, Frankie repeats again, but maybe not that rational when it comes to you.

It’s like the primal, caveman side comes to the surface when he is with you sometimes. The need to provide and care for you, make everyone else know that you’re his, even though he knows you well-enough that the thought makes you roll your eyes and mutter something about being independent. He knows you well-enough that even when you say that you also find yourself leaning into him, letting him keep a hand resting on your hip when you’re out at the bar or letting him whisper every primal, depraved thought he has when buried deep inside you while you keen a moaned yes, Frankie in response.

He forces those thoughts from his mind now, wrapping his palm around the still cool bottle in his hands until he feels he can look at you again without thoughts about you wrapped in the bed sheets coming to mind.

At first it was seeing his marks on you - little thumb prints on your hips, dark bruises left by his mouth trailing a path from your jaw to your chest, a bite mark on your shoulder that faded within ten minutes but already had him leaving another mere minutes after the first disappeared.

Then there was the time you were slightly tipsy on a weekend trip and walked out of a tattoo parlor hand-in-hand, Frankie with your initial on the inside of his wrist and you with an F on the dip of your hip. He can’t stop himself from pressing his lips against it whenever it is revealed, pulling you to stand between his legs when he sits on the edge of the bed as you get ready or when he’s slowly undressing you and making sure to stop on the way.

Now there is a reminder that you’re his for everyone to see with the ring on your finger. Frankie doesn’t have his yet, the ceremony booked for six months time, and while marrying you means a million things to Frankie, mostly in relation to you spending the rest of your lives together, there is no denying that little primal part of him that feels smug when he watches on as people notice the ring.

His eyes follow the ring now as you walk back from the bar, the simple gold band and with the green stone shining where you hold both beer bottles between your fingers. He watches as you tap it on the table while talking to him about something that happened at work today. He finds himself twisting it when you rest your hand on his leg, your head tucked against his arm as you listen to the band that has set up by the bar.

He feels it against his skin when your hands link together as you walk back to the car, letting go of your touch only long enough to help you into the truck before he climbs in the drivers side and your hand comes to rest on his leg again, his fingers wrapping around the band.

Twist, twist, twist.

He doesn’t know why he is so focused on the ring tonight. Maybe it was the man at the bar, maybe it is just a day where he feels even more in awe than usual that you want to spend the rest of your lives together as much as he wants that. Either way, his eyes are still trained on it when you slip it off your finger long enough to get ready for bed, placing it in a dish by the sink as you stand in front of the mirror, before slipping it back on and switching off the bathroom light.

He looks away long enough to catch the playful glint in your eye when you start to crawl up his body where he rests against the headboard, the cool band dragging a path up his calf and thigh as you nudge his shorts higher and higher until you’re kissing along the scarred and weathered skin of his thighs.

He tries to reach for you - to drag your face up to his - but you slip away, falling to lie by his side on the bed and trailing your hands down your body until your hand slips beneath your shorts and between your legs. He just watches for a second, soft skin on soft skin, his hands gripping the sheets between you and his chest already heaving, until you roll your head to the side and look at him with a smile he can only describe as dangerous.

A smile that has had him pulling you into whatever door has a lock on it when you’re at one of the MIller’s barbecues. A smile that has had him pulling his truck over into an off-track road like some teenage boy unable to control his hormones, rather than the forty-year old man who drags you across the console and onto his lap. It’s a smile that has him moving in an instant now, dragging your shorts down your legs and kneeling between your thighs where he can watch as your fingers disappear inside you.

He wants to look up to your face when you moan his name, he wants to see the half-lidded expression that’s there - but he can’t tear his eyes away from where the ring rests against your skin, not even when you come and your other hand reaches for his, squeezing as you moan his name and he feels like he could follow you without so much as touching himself.

He knows that you’ve noticed how much attention he has paid to your ring tonight from the way you pull your fingers away, slipping them into your mouth until the cold metal presses to your lips. You finally drag them out with a pop, leaning forward and holding your weight up with a hand behind your back as you slip the other beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“Do you like when I wear this ring Frankie? Do you like it when other people see me wear it?” You begin to stroke your hand back and forth and he bites down on his bottom lip as you come to kneel before him. “Do you like that they see this and know I’m yours?” You trail kisses along his collarbone, gently squeezing him so he stops biting his lip and gasps a yes. “Maybe you should get me a collar and people will know that I’m yours straight away, they won't have to look for a ring on my hand.”

You’re teasing him, you’re finding it charmingly ridiculous, and he can feel your smile against his neck and the warm puff of air that comes with a silent laugh, but he’s so lost in you that the thought almost seems rational and it makes him thrust his hips into your hand.

“Oh Frankie,” you coo, pushing him onto his back and pulling his shorts down so you can both see how your hand wraps around him. “Do you like that thought?”

His responding yes is more of a whine than a word, especially when you dip your head to lick up his length and his hands reach out to grip at the bedsheet. His eyes squeeze shut and he has to take a minute before he can open them again, groaning when he sees what hand you’ve decided to wrap around him as he feels the cold band against him.

He doesn’t know how long you stay like that before he’s dragging you up towards him, finally slanting his mouth over yours in a kiss he has felt like he has waited hours for. He groans when you hum into the kiss, his hand gripping the back of your neck and his hand fumbling between you both until he’s slowly sliding inside you and your forehead falls to his shoulder.

“You know what I want?” He says, finally finding his voice and you smile against his neck, tugging on his ear with your teeth as you whisper a breathy “what” in return. “I want everyone, every second of every day, to know that you’re mine.” His hands grip your hips and pull you down against him again, and again, and again. “Guys still try and flirt with you even with that ring so maybe a collar is what you need.” You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and drag your fingers through your curls. “Or maybe-“ His hand slips between your bodies, palm pressed to your stomach and thumb dipping lower to bring you to the edge with him “-maybe I just need to fill you over and over until you’ve got my baby inside you and then maybe they’ll stop flirting with you.”

You fall over the edge and drag him with you, his mouth finding yours in a messy kiss until your bodies relax and he kisses across your face while rolling off you and bringing you into his chest.

After a moment of silence you start to giggle.

“Frankie-“

“Don’t,” he groans, already knowing you’re about to repeat whatever he rambled on about.

“A collar?” His eyes snap open, tickling your side until you squeal and roll away from him, lying on your side on your pillow and looking at him.

“You brought it up!”

“You went with it!”

He scrunches up his nose. “No offense to anyone with that… affinity,” he says and you snort, “but I’m quite happy with the ring on that finger.” He reaches for your hand, lifting it to kiss the band.

“And the baby?” You ask, holding his cheek with your hand.

“Now that-“ he drags you back into his side, “is open for discussion.”

.................

tags

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