#dark!frankie morales

[iamasaddie]

no eres tú (soy yo)

paring: dark!Frankie Morales x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 2.1k~ summary: Frankie has a thing for creating marks on your skin – bruises, hickeys, the like. He liked knowing and showing that you are his. a/n: This was written on a whim for Feral Frankie Friday. If it's not friday where you're at rn, just pretend that it is. The biggest thanks to amazing @patti7dc for being my beta on this work and giving her beautiful comments first <;3 warnings: dead dove do not eat; PWP; toxic relationship, physical abuse, Stockholm syndrome (kind of?), obsessive behavior, restraints, bruising, carving (not descriptive), brief fingering, unsafe PinV; ; no use of y/n MY MASTERLIST

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪʀʟ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

It was like his hands itched to squeeze you just a little bit harder, to see your skin tense up and then relax under his fingertips. His mouth searched every open surface of your body to latch on and create intricate patterns for the world to see. At the beginning of your relationship Frankie was cautious, the first time he lost control as he pounded into you from behind his large hands gripped your body and you whined from the new sensation, from feeling pressure somewhere else besides your stuffed cunt. He let go of you immediately, dropping his head between your shoulder blades and kissing you there while murmuring apologies, but you just blindly found his hands and brought them back, giving him the silent signal.

He squeezed you harder then.

"Amor, you like it when I am a little bit rough with you, huh?" He smiled, biting on your shoulder.

"You know it, Papi." You tried to turn your head and kiss him, but with a harder thrust from him you ended up just sliding your lips across his sweat-covered face. 

He loved marking you, it awoke some kind of primal desire within him, and you loved seeing the shadows left by him on your most intimate parts. 

Now, when you laid bare, your hands tied tightly to the bed's wooden headboard while your legs were spread by his own thighs between, you couldn't remember for the life of you when it all went south.

One day your lover whispered filthy flirtations in your ear, placing a little hickey just behind it; and the other he was breaking your skin with his teeth, growling in your skin that he owned you. And you should've left, you really should have. When he came back a different, shallow version of himself you’d never seen before. When his hands became a little bit too rough for pleasure. When he smiled seeing your tears, and licked them away. When he stopped hiding little ziplocks with white powder inside. You should've left. But you didn't. It's like he was right, and he did own you.

With every new bruise he seeped into your skin deeper and deeper, and you thought that the next mark was going to grace your bones. There was nothing in particular that triggered his violence, at least there was nothing you could find besides the drugs. Every morning he’d wake up the same old Frankie that made you fall in love with him by reading you poetry in Spanish, and bringing you your favorite takeout when he met you after work. He’d kiss your stomach, licking the splotches of yesterday’s night blooming on your skin. You’d wipe the tear out of the corner of your eye, soaking in the familiar gentleness, your mind blocking the pain you endured mere hours ago. And then the night would come, and this new Frankie, the Frankie you thought you helped create, would show his face. The sharpness of his teeth would scratch your flesh bloody, the strength of his arms would rip your clothes and your hopes, and all you could do was let the tears fall, and let him mark you again. The bruises didn’t fade anymore.

"I missed you, amor. I missed you so fucking much." He rolled his hips, letting the hardness of his naked cock grind into your naked pussy. As he whispered the words, he bit your collarbone - it was his favorite place, the skin there so thin and soft, so easy to break. 

You closed your eyes, the familiar stinging started to bloom under your neck. "I missed you too, Frankie."  Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a twisted mixture of fear and desire coursing through your veins. When Frankie felt like that was enough for one spot, he unlatched his lips and teeth, giving the tender skin only the last lick. He raised his eyes back to you, giving you a soft smile. He was rarely this gentle at night.

"You should quit." He didn’t blink, and you raised your brows. What was that supposed to mean? 

"What?" Your voice trembled, tinged with uncertainty. Your time together gave him enough time to learn your body better than you knew it yourself. He was obsessively attentive, listening to your every sigh and moan, watching your every twitch. He knew how to make you wet in bare moments, even when you thought there was no way. He used his knowledge now, too. Frankie let you rest from the abuse of his teeth, and too rough hands, by trailing kisses along your heaving breasts. He didn’t answer for a while, letting the question just hang in the air. His wet and firm tongue drew circles around your nipples, one at first, and then the other. You felt wetness between your legs becoming more prominent, and you let your hips grind back into his throbbing cock, allowing a tiny moan to fall from your lips. Frankie hummed with satisfaction before his teeth squeezed your puckered left nipple and tugged. Your loud whine drowned the beginning of his sentence.

"I said you’re gonna quit the job. I want you with me always." His lips were still close to your throbbing nipple, but he didn’t make a move to it, instead squeezing your ribs. His hands were huge, almost fully bracketing your sides with his thumbs digging into your skin the most painfully. "I fucking hate when you leave, and those assholes all stare at you, thinking they cancould have you."

That wasn’t a new conversation for you to have, except usually he used it as a sick foreplay before ‘punishing’ you for letting your male coworkers think they had a chance with you. You never did that. Your only interaction with men at work was whenever you or them gave the other some sort of paperwork. Frankie wasn’t easy to convince, though. When his ‘punishments’ became too severe, so much that you had to make up excuses at said work why you didn’t sit all day, you told him you were gonna transfer somewhere where there were no male workers. He called you his ‘amorcita pequeña’ that night, made you cum at least three times (with two being on his insatiable tongue), and left only one bruise, which to you was the greatest gift.

"Frankie," you furrowed your brows in confusion, "but I work with women. You know that."

"I don't fucking care." There was this animalistic glint in his eyes, something that pushed your Frankie deep down, until the morning came. You trembled in his arms and winced when his hands squeezed yet stronger still. "You’re going to quit, you understand?"

"But baby, we can’t afford that." You tried to call onto his smarter side. His work at the garage didn’t bring the amount of money that would cover the cost of your already humble dwelling. "How are we gonna pay the bills?"

He gave you a toothy grin before kissing you on the tip of your nose and tracing his right hand from your ribs to where you were almost connected, glued together by a sheen of sweat and an emotional chain.

"It’s gonna be fine." Frankie kissed your neck, and you turned your head on auto-pilot, giving him access to more of your tender skin. "I have something." He mumbled in the crook of your neck, the fingers of his right hand slipping on your arousal as he started playing with your clit, while keeping himself upright with the help of his left. You had to bite your lower lip painfully to focus on his words, instead of pleasure that he started professionally eliciting out of your body. "I leave in a couple of days, but I’ll come back in a week, okay?" His index finger left your clit as it found its way to your pulling entrance. He pushed in roughly and you moaned, the familiarity of his movements making your reaction almost Pavlovian. "And then you’ll never have to work again. Neither of us will ever have to work."

His words slowly settled in your brain and you struggled against the ropes that tied your hands to the bed frame. You had almost lost all the sensation besides the growing tingling of needles in your forearms. Once, you pushed him off you when you couldn’t stand his loving anymore, he became furious and outdid himself, the results of it causing you to have to work from home for the next week. That was the first time you saw Frankie terrified of what he’d done and it sparked a hope inside you. Maybe there was still a chance to get your baby back. Since then, he usually tied your hands up to the bed frame that he ordered separately from your classic one and installed himself; or behind your back, when his only need for the night was to take you from behind as many times as it took to get you both to black out.

"What…? What do you mean? Leave where?" You turned your head, but he never left your neck, exchanging his kisses for bites. 

"Don’t think about it, amor." And it was hard to do so when he pushed his finger out of your throbbing cunt and grabbed his stiff cock, quickly aligning his weeping head with your entrance. He teased you by pushing just the tip in, and sliding out. Frankie knew, it drove you insane. Made you realize exactly how empty you were without him. Understand that there was no one but him for you. He kept playing with you, until your breaths became broken, mixing with whines. "The only thing you need to do right now is be with me," he whispered in your ear. "I’ll have to do something special tonight, we can't have people thinking you don’t belong to me when the bruises fade." He tsked, as if it genuinely disappointed him. You felt the rush of your blood stop at his words. 

"Special?" You repeated back at him. The tip of his cock stretched your entrance and he mounted above you, staring back into your eyes with a smile.

"Yes, my love," he whispered, his gaze intense and predatory, and finally pushed in. 

You threw your head back and felt the skin of your wrists breaking under the constant rub of the rough jute rope. No more t-shirts for you this week, and it promised to be the hottest one this summer. You’d dwell on it some more, if only the relentless pounding of Frankie’s thick cock didn’t erase every thought from your mind. Hundreds of days and thousands of bruises later, he was still the only person who could render you speechless just by sliding inside you. He never stopped biting you, this time stopping his lips above your left tit, close to where your armpit became wet with sweat. You lowered your head, burrowing your nose in his curls. You used to love tugging on them hard when you felt your orgasm coming up. If only you could do that now. 

The fear of the unknown made your body tense up, and that made the feeling of Frankie’s cock even more intense. The only sounds in your room were the squelching of your cunt, constantly being stuffed, and Frankie’s lips slurping your abused skin. You knew he was as close as you when the pain surged through the spot where he sunk in his teeth. The warmth of his cum filled you and you let go yourself, feeling both your cum and your tears gushing out of you and making your body limp. You saw blood on Frankie’s lower lip when he finally released your flesh from his grip.

You waited a moment for him to compose himself, usually that was the time when he lazily undid the knots that were imprinted on your skin by then. He didn’t do it now, instead reaching out to the bedside table, stretching so that his softening cock didn’t slip out of you.

"Something really special," he mumbled, not even looking at your face.

He pulled out a little knife, tugging the blade out with his teeth, and brought the sharp edge of it to the side of your neck.

"Frankie?" The post-orgasmic fog that occupied your mind cleared as you felt the alarms going off inside you. ‘Run, fight, scream, do anything’, they screamed at you, but it was as if Frankie read your mind.

"Shhh," he pressed his fingers that still smelled of you to your lips, pressing them together, "I’m going to be careful, but it’s going to hurt a little, amor."

When he left for his mission, you missed him every day, gently touching the little scabs covering the letters on your neck and praying to God that he comes back soon.

Hope you could enjoy it! Leave a comment if you did 💔

🏷️ (just for this): @covetyou ; @sheepdogchick3 ; @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog ; @cool-iguana ; @oldenoughtoknoebettersstuff ; @bearsbeetsbeskar ; @gracieispunk

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie x reader #dark!frankie morales #dark!frankie #iamasaddie fic #pedro pascal #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut

[lincolndjarin]

A Little Mishap.

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day five - afab!reader x dark!francisco morales

prompt : hate sex [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.4k (sorry all of these are so short, there's so many i've been struggling to make them longer)

summary : READ ALL WARNINGS. THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC. you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, dark!frankie, unprotected p in v, spanking, use of restraints, panty gag, painful sex, degradation, orgasm denial, creampie, ambiguous ending, probably other things lmk if i forgot any tags

a/n : a lot of my october stuff is gonna be barely edited so my apologies for that but this is my first time writing frankie but also my first time writing any sort of dark fic and i'm definitely feeling anxious about posting this but here it is uhhhh yeah. i've been finishing all of these before work this week and having this tiny little time crunch before doing a ten hour shift really wakes me the fuck up lmao.

He shoves you into the tent, both of you fuming at this point. Neither one of you speaks as you take a seat on your cot, putting your head in your hands. After a moment you can see his boots appear in front of you. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He growls and you feel your jaw tense as you look up at him. 

“You can’t believe me?” You say incredulously. “If it weren’t for me we’d have nothing.” 

“If it weren’t for you we might have everything.” He hisses, planting a hand firmly on your shoulder as he shoves you back into the wall, you sit up quickly, kicking his knee in retaliation, watching as he slumps to the floor. 

“I did exactly what Santi would have wanted me to do in that situation.” You usually don’t physical when you two fight, (which is happening more and more often these days) but today you’re fed up with him, you’d been on that mission with just him for over a week when he’d fucked up. You could have lost everything if you’d listened to him, at least now you had half the haul. 

“La puta…” He grumbles, grabbing you by your ankles as you lean back to kick him again. “Os voy a dar una lección.” He mumbles, twisting your legs until you stop resisting. You swallow a squeak that threatens to bubble up from the pain, you’re about to swing on him when he pushes you back down, his hands swiftly yank your pants down making you freeze in shock. He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he drags you off the cot, knocking the wind out of you as you hit the tent floor.

“Asshole!” You yelp as he pins you down with his knees, taking both your wrists in one large hand as you squirm beneath him, trying to flip him off you.

“Fucking- quit it.” He delivers a sharp slap to your jaw promptly halting your struggle as you scowl at him. You’re about to hurl another insult at him when you hear the familiar sound of his switchblade flipping open. “Don’t move.” He mumbles as you feel the cold steel against your hip and in an instant you hear a slicing, followed by the same on the other side, you squeeze your thighs together instinctively as he pulls your panties off with ease now that the sides are torn.

“Frankie!” You shriek and he takes the opportunity to shove the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“‘Talk too damn much.” You try to kick him again as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, bringing them up as he haphazardly flips you onto your stomach, binding your hands behind your back with one of your pant legs. You’re about to spit your panties out when you feel the steel on your throat. “You keep that smart mouth of yours stuffed or I’ll find another way to shut you up.” His blade digs into your flesh as a silent warning and you don’t dare. He gives you a minute to decide what you want to do and you choose to just stay still, trying desperately to steady your breathing. 

He digs his knee into your lower back one more time, eliciting a pained groan from you before slotting himself between your thighs. You’re dizzy from everything happening so fast and he doesn’t give you much of a chance to process any of it as he takes hold of your makeshift cuffs, dragging you upright as you kneel, his free hand wrapping around your waist to cup your mound. 

“You know how often I think about this?” He rests his temple on yours as his chin sits on your shoulder, his body heat suffocates you. 

How many times had you reluctantly thought about the same thing? Rolling to face away from him in your shared tent and shoving your hand between your legs, imagining what it would be like when he finally got sick of your shit and bent you over. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as he dips two fingers between your folds with a satisfied sigh. He slides his digits back and forth, scooping up your abundant wetness with a throaty chuckle.  

“You get off on bein’ a brat?” He dangles his fingers in front of your face before rubbing your slick onto your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own arousal. “Then I’ll treat you like a brat.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head up as you feel him grind the front of his pants against your ass. “Fuckin’ soaking me.” He bends you over, forcing your ass up and pushing your face into the floor. He keeps one hand locked around your wrist as the other shoves his own pants down. You whine into the makeshift gag. “Maybe I’ll just fuck some obedience into you.” 

You let out a squeak as he slaps your rear. He lets his palm rest there, before roughly spreading your cheeks. You hear him spit, followed by the sensation of it dripping down your seam, you can feel him lining himself up at your entrance, all of his actions are rushed and you just can’t keep up, your body doesn’t even have time to make an attempt at defending yourself as he rams himself into you without warning. A muffled squeal falls from your lips as he beings to fuck you mercilessly, giving you no time to adjust to the sheer size of him. 

With your face pressed into the floor you can’t see him but you can certainly feel just how thick he is. The underlying pleasure does nothing to soothe the feeling of being split open by him. 

“Jesus-” He grunts out, your pussy gushing around him only spurs him on, his movements somehow becoming harsher as he bumps against your g-spot with ever slam of his hips, the combines overstimulation and pain makes your eyes water, a few tears slipping past your lash line. “Dunno how I’m gonna last in such a tight cunt.” He slaps your ass again, hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll have a mark, drawing a sob from you. “Fuckin’ choking my cock when I do that.” 

He spanks you again, a loud crack rings throughout the tent as your cunt involuntarily clamps down on him, his hips stuttering forward. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” His voice is low and dangerous as the rough denim of his jeans scratches at your thighs. “Is that why you keep squeezin’ me?” You don’t realize he expects a response until he smacks you again. “You love this?” You nod fervently, mumbling something similar to a yes into your panties. “You wanna finish on my cock?” Much to your own dismay you nod once more.

You don’t know how, but against all odds you really are close. The coil tightening in your stomach threatens to consume you as you try desperately to force yourself over that edge to no avail.

“That’s too bad, only good girls get to come.” He growls, readjusting himself so one hand is tangled in your hair and the other is gripping your wrists, keeping you hovering above the tent floor rather uncomfortably, your lurch forward with every one of his brutal thrusts. You groan something that sounds like his name but you know it’s useless to try and reason with him. With a few more long drawn out thrusts you feel him burst within you, his grip on your hair tightens and you shriek as his release begins dripping from your swollen cunt as he slips out of you.

Your tears are drying on your face and you slump forward once his hands release you. Your body continues to buzz with frustration, a small part of you is genuinely upset at your lack of an orgasm. You can hear the rest of your mission party returning as Frankie leans forward and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to everything he just did to you. You can hear the zipper on his pants as he pulls himself together, leaving you wrecked on the floor. 

“Why don’t we see how Pope feels about your little mishap?” He whispers before you turn your head just in time to watch him lean out of the tent, calling Santiago over.

a/n : i would love any sort of feedback on this?? i've never written anything like this before so i'm a little nervous.

#lincolndjarin #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #dark!frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales

[beefrobeefcal]

Dark!Frankie Saga: VII

Chapter Seven: Bring It Home

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 3,740

Content Warning: angst, threats of violence, crime, snark, Major Character Death, stabbing, violence, betrayal, kissing

Author's Notes:

Y'all, I know you had big dreams for this chapter... and I thank you for your patience. Please don't hate me 🥺

The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

thank you to the following for being supportive good eggs & sounding boards: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @xdaddysprincessxx @thehalflifeofloveisforever @rebel-held @gracieispunk

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! when i feel like it👌

On the Waterfront Masterlist | Previous Chapter

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

From the time Frankie pulled you onto his lap at the bowling alley to when he stood with you at your bedroom door, you felt like you were in a dream. A beautiful, hazy dream that you were pretty sure was going to end with him fucking you in your bed.

“You did good tonight, Honey.”, Frankie said sweetly, cupping your jaw and cheek in his big hand.

You couldn’t help but stare back, falling further for him through his deep, brown eyes. He but the softness in his gaze hardened as he sucked in a breath and released your face, stepping back. He broke the connection with you and looked away. He cleared his throat and nodded towards your door, leaving you feeling cold and confused. What did you do wrong?

“Night, baby girl...”, he mumbled as he turned, heading towards the lounge.

You opened your mouth to say something to him, but all you could do was feel your body react to the lack of his touch and your cheeks burn from the rogue tears that fell. You were alone in the hallway, and you didn’t know why.

*****

Pope had been outside in the shadows, trying to remain inconspicuous while on his phone, when the blacked-out SUV pulled up at the front doors.

“Yes, I know!... fuck you... I’ll call you back...”, he hissed quietly into his phone before ending the call and focused on the two of you returning.

He watched as Frankie got out of the SUV, holding his hand out to you, and saw the stupid look on Frankie’s face as he helped you down from the vehicle. Pope shook his head and rolled his eyes, watching Frankie pull you in for a disgustingly sweet kiss before he tugged you into the building.

He scoffed as he brought his phone back up to call his contact back, a message popped up on the screen.

Steven is done. Now what?

Pope grinned as his deviously sadistic mind’s wheels turned; he pocketed his phone and walked into the building.

*****

Frankie’s heart was beating fast as he walked away from you, and his palms were sweating as he clenched his fists. He didn’t stop until he was standing in his office, shakily sucking in his breaths, and he allowed himself to think about what had just happened. It was one thing for him to go down on you in the bowling alley and hold you as your body came back down – he was still in control. But looking in your eyes as you looked back at him, seeing the same thing he felt staring right back told him he was no longer holding the reigns in this, and it terrified him to his core. He felt like you could see who he really was under his harsh and mean exterior; under it all he was just the former drug addict who battled his demons daily to keep himself upright; just the man who made himself bigger so he could be respected, because no one was going to respect a scrawny junkie. And if you did see it, why did you still want him at all? Did you see weakness? Did you know that just asking him for a kiss would make him weak in the knees? Why did he allow you to get under his skin?

He was finally broken from his trance when the door to the office opened behind him. Frankie whirled around and found himself facing Pope.

“Fish... you got a sec?”, Pope asked, cautiously approaching him, with a judgmental eyebrow raised. When Frankie nodded, trying to shake the weakness of you from his mind, Pope nodded back in kind.

“What d’you need?”, Frankie said coolly as he made his way around his desk and sat down heavily on his chair.

Pope walked up to the desk and leaned heavily on, deciding not to tell Frankie that he saw him come back with you, and how he saw the look on his face and knew what it meant. He instead decided to set in motion what he hoped would be the last thing he needed to.

“I got a message... from one of the grunts under Will... he was making the rounds and checking in on people that owe us...”, he said quietly, trying to sound nervous about what he was going to say. “and, he - uh…”,

“Fuckin’ spit it out, Pope.”, Frankie groaned after a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“He went to Steven’s...”

“Who the fuck is that and why do I care?”, he growled, not looking up at him. “Get to the fuckin’ point!”

“It’s your girl’s brother...”

“What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, feeling his blood run cold.

*****

After being left on your own, you sat in your room, feeling the buzz from the beer slipping away and letting your thoughts drift towards more nefarious avenues. It hurt to know that no matter what happened, you would end up alone; your brother sold you out for more drugs, Benny hated and abandoned you, Will threw you into the lion’s den, and Frankie didn’t want you beyond getting what he could from you. And Pope... you knew what Pope wanted and it made your skin crawl.

The tears that you’d cried had mixed with your make up had dried on your face, leaving your skin feeling itchy and tacky. You needed to clean yourself up and give yourself some comfort, even if it was small. You stepped into the shower and tried to wash away your sadness.

After drying off and getting into your pajamas, you once again sat in your room alone. The weight of solitude was heavy on you, so much so, you could barely stand it. All you could do was pick up your Kindle and try to distract yourself until you fell asleep.

*****

Benny sat back and watched the other guys play a round of foosball. They’d invited him to join but he’d waved them off. He’d wanted to sulk and be angry with no interference; he couldn’t get your face out of his head from the last time he’d seen you the night before, and Frankie’s words to him sounded off like a fire alarm in his skull: She’s not here for you. Stick your dick in literally anything else, but that is mine.

He’d replayed your last interaction with him over and over in his mind over the past 24 hours, building up more rage and fury over how stupid you were being. He didn’t want you for himself; he wanted something better for you. There’s no way Frankie could offer you what you deserve. Fuck, no one in this fucking building could. He sneered as he shook his head, anger rising further each time Frankie’s words bleated in his brain and deafened the rest of his thoughts. Frankie told him to fuck anything like you weren’t even a person. You were just part of the wide scope of anything, like an object he could own and devour like he did everything else he wanted.

Will watched Benny silently from across the room. He saw his brother furiously twisting his hands and clenching his jaw; saw the vein in his forehead pop out as his face turned red with rage. Will knew he was at fault for this; he knew Benny had a soft spot for vulnerable people, especially women. He knew Frankie was wrong about how Benny felt, but he wasn’t willing to correct him and confirm that Benny wanted to fuck her as much as Frankie wanted to diet. But the powder keg that was hitting a critical point across the room in his brother was far more worrisome than he’d accounted for, given even a day going by hadn’t managed to dampen his rage. Benny could be a dangerous man, given the right mindset, and he wasn't afraid of violence or being violent. It was the reason he was so valuable to the Frontiersmen - he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty for the right cause, and Will worried that you were becoming the right reason for Benny to unleash that terrible dog in him at Frankie.

As Will decided it was in everyone’s best interest to try and quell the fire, Pope walked in with a smug grin aimed directly at his brother, and Will felt like he was about to watch a train derail.

“What’s with the long face, fucker?”, Pope crooned sadistically as he sauntered towards Benny.

“Fuck off, Pope.”, he growled in response, his eyes glaring up at the smiling man.

 Will saw the determined, toothy smile breakout over Pope’s face as he squatted down in front of Benny.

“What’s the matter, baby Benny?”, Pope mockingly cooed, amusement bleeding from his tone. “You mad that Fish is cockblocking you from that sweet little puss – “

Benny’s hand jutting out and gripping Pope’s throat stopped him from finishing his sentence. He stood up, pulling Pope into a standing position as he stared wide eyed and clawed at Benny’s arm and wrist, gasping and choking.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”, Benny snarled, pulling Pope’s face close to his.

Will ran up beside Benny and gripped his shoulder, shaking him. “Benny! Drop’im!”

He yanked Benny’s arm back and Pope collapsed on the floor, gasping and coughing.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF ME!”, Benny roared as Will’s arms wrapped around him form behind and pulled him back.

“Fuck you, Pope! Fuck you 'n fuck your fuckin’ smug mouth!”, Benny screamed at him as Will continued to restrain him. ‘FUCK, WILL! LET ME THE FUCK GO! I’ll FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

Will knew Benny didn’t mean it. Sure, he’d probably take a swing and hit him – he’d done it before. But beyond that, he knew it was Benny’s rage talking.

Pope shakily looked up at Benny and offered him a cruel smile. Benny saw red; that fucker fueled his blinding rage, and he threw Will off him, storming out of the rec room.

“Don’t move, Pope!”, Will yelled, pointing his finger at him as he turned and ran out after Benny.

Pope smiled, watching him leave after his brother, seeing a brand-new opportunity. Fortune favours the brave…

*****

Benny was on a rampage. Like a rabid bear, he stalked the hallways, making a beeline to the barracks. He’d walked right past Frankie’s office, not even considering stopping there first to tear into him over what he was doing. Will quickly caught up to him, yelling for him to stop.

Frankie sat in his office chair. He heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and he looked up, but they moved past.  He thought nothing of it until he heard Will.

“Ben! Stop!... Stop 'n take a fuckin’ breather, man!”

“FUCK YOU AND FUCK POPE AND FUCK FISH AND FUCK THAT STUPID BITCH!”

“You’re not thinkin’ this through! You don’t wanna hurt her, Ben! BENNY!”

Will’s panicked voice caught Frankie’s attention and he stood up, listening to the sounds move further down the hallway. He knew not to get in Benny’s way when he was mad, but he was heading towards you and the idea of Benny being in this foul of a mood and even Will wasn’t able to placate him didn’t sit well with him.

Benny threw the doors to the Barracks open and screamed your name. Even being in a separate area, the volume at which he called you made you jump. You dropped your Kindle on the bed and moved cautiously to your door. You clicked the flimsy lock on the doorknob, and you jumped heard the door to the hallway slam against the wall from how hard it was flung open.

Your heart was beating deafeningly loud in your ears, and you backed away from the door as the thumping footsteps got closer and your doorknob jiggled.

Just as soon as you were mentally thanking what every deity was listening for that lock, the door was kicked open and there was Benny. Breathing hard, his face twisted in a snarl and his fists clenched.

You looked up at him, not sure what he was going to do. “Benny... wha - “

“You're so fuckin’ dumb!”, he yelled, stomping towards you and cutting you off. “You’re fuckin’ smarter than this!”

He stood over you, his hot furious breaths fanning over your face. You tried to back away, but he grabbed at your arm.

“Don’t fuckin’ move!”, he yelled in your face, his hold on you tightening.

You yelped and tried to pull away from his grip. He shoved you back, sending you to the floor. Shock gave way to fear and anger as he stalked towards you, and you scrambled back into a standing position.

“Just fuckin’ stay down, you- “

“What do you want from me?!”, you cut him off, yelling in a cracked voice as tears welled up in your eyes.

His eyes narrowed at you and his scowl set further in his face. “I want you to smarten the fuck up! I want you to stop bein’ a dumb bitch!”

You angrily wiped at the tear that fell down your cheek, and, for a brief moment, Benny’s eyes looked at you almost horrified at what was happening. Your face contorted with a frown, and you pushed him with all your strength, making him take a small step back to keep his balance.

Neither of you knew that Will was in the hallway watching this unfold, not sure how to intervene, and his focus was torn away from you both as Frankie walked into the hallway and stood next to Will, ready to jump in.

“What is your problem?!”, you screamed at him.

His menacing glare returned, and he stepped up to you, challenging you.

“My fuckin’ problem is you’re not thinkin’ with your goddamned brain!”, he bellowed. “My problem is you’re thinkin’ with your pussy like a fuckin’ whore- “

Before you could register your actions, your hand harshly made contact with his face; you slapped him hard.

The room fell silent, and Benny’s head snapped back to you, all fury gone. What was left was the look of hurt and disappointment, and you weren’t sure who it was directed at – you or himself. Will rushed in and grabbed Benny, hauling him back. Benny’s eyes didn’t leave yours until Will had dragged him out of the room, cursing at him for his temper.

And once again, you were alone. Your chin quivered and your body trembled as the rage dissipated from your system, replaced with shame and remorse. What did you do?

Before you could collapse under the weight of your actions, Frankie stepped into the doorway.

You raised your eyes to him and held back a sob as you shook your head, silently saying please – I can’t handle any more.

“Baby girl...”, he spoke softly as he walked slowly towards you and pulled you into his arms. You tried pushing him back, but he gently used his strength against you, holding you in his embrace. His gentleness after the harsh intensity of what you’d just experienced with Benny broke you, and you let out a heavy sob that wracked your body. His large hand held your head against his chest and he murmured softly, trying to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl... come on, Honey... calm down... he’s gone... I know, baby... I know... he’s gone now... I’m sorry... he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, baby... he doesn’t know what he's talkin’ about...”

“Stop... just stop!”, you squirmed out of his hold and stood back from him. You furiously wiped your face again and shook your head. “He’s right! He’s right about everyth - “

“No, baby girl... no, he’s not!”, Frankie pleaded, holding his hand out to you, beckoning you to come to him.

It made you angrier, his actions seemingly still trying to train you to be his good little bitch, coming when he calls. You shook your head, rage taking over. “I’m not a fucking dog! You don’t order me around like one!”

His voice was so soft. “Baby... Honey, please...”

“No! Mr. fucking Morales! He’s right - I’m just another one of your dumb whores that you can throw away! I’m no better than that bitch you had on your lap at the bowling alley! You just keep me like a pet and bring me out when you need a fuckin’ fix! You don’t want me - no one does!”

You didn’t realize you were screaming at him and walking towards him.  Frankie’s hands were held up, trying to calm you. His eyes were wide and pleading, his mouth was open and frowning, as he shook his head.

“Baby girl… shhhhh… no… no, Honey…”, he shook his head, and cooed, moving towards you again. “No, Honey… you got it all wrong…”

“Don’t…”, you warned as you stepped back, glaring up at him. To Frankie, you must have looked like a cornered, feral cat, fueled by rage and fear.

You didn’t intimidate him. He reached out and cupped your cheek, as he’d done countless times before, but this time you pulled out of his grasp.

You didn’t scare him. But he needed your softness back; this harsh and jaded version of you hurt him in ways he didn’t know he could be wounded. His heart ached as his other arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him again. He smoothed his hand over your jaw, his thumb gently caressing your lips. You tried, albeit half-heartedly, to get away, but he saw the softness slipping back into your eyes.

You didn’t deter him. “Don’t push me away, baby girl…”, he said softly, bringing his face close. He ghosted his lips over yours. “I want you here… with me.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours. Your resolve to fight dissolved and you wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping for more contact with him. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, he followed suit, slipping his tongue against yours. You were both desperate. Yes, you’d fooled around in a bowling alley, but this was something that wasn’t scratching an itch or a power play; this was the two of you finally, without words, admitting that you needed one another on a baser, more human level.

Frankie pulled back first, breathing heavily and his eyes scanned yours, asking silently for more. You nodded, and with that, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your room and into his.

*****

After his run in with Benny and making sure his windpipe wasn’t crushed, Pope was back outside around the building in an alleyway. Hidden in the shadows, the only sign of his presence was his phone screen lighting up his face.

As he searched through images confirming Steven’s demise, a call came through. He answered it quietly, keeping his voice low but harsh.

“I need more time - … no, you don’t understand, he - ... I know that was the deal, but you gotta hear me out- … I can’t just… I know it has to look like an accide-… I tried! The fuckin’ little brother… Yeah… fuck, no… No… I know, but I ca-… fuck. Okay… I understand… Yes! Fuck! I got it!”

Will watched from the far end of the building. Pope’s voice, although quiet, carried, and Will’s mind raced, putting piece by piece together, not quite being able to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He didn’t know what he was up to, but he knew he didn’t like it.

He watched as Pope hung up and stopped himself from throwing his phone against the wall, and he clenched his fists and teeth. Will moved on his feet, causing the gravel to shift and crunch under him.

“What do you want, Will?”

He stopped, feeling his body tense at Pope’s recognizing his presence, even in the dark.

“Who you talkin’ to, man?”, he asked. Will tried to keep no discernable emotion or feeling in his tone, trying to keep Pope off his anxious scent.

“No one… one of the grunts fucked up… just tryin’ to set them straight.”

Will hmm’d in acknowledgement; he knew it was a lie and he knew Pope wouldn’t be convinced that he believed him, but he knew saying anything more would probably drive more suspicion.

“I’ll ask again, Will… what do you want?”

Will moved closer to Pope, trying to keep his voice down when he spoke.

“You gotta stop rilin’ Benny up. I know you think it’s funny, but he’s gonna really fuck someone up and we don’t need that.”

“Fuck you, Will… what are you, his keeper? His fuckin’ nanny?”

“I’m the last thing keepin’ him from killin’ someone… If wasn’t there tonight, you think you would’a made it?”

“So, what you’re saying its you’re the one keeping a leash on him?”

Even in the dark, Will knew Pope was facing him. He could feel the breath on his face. He was close – too close.

“If you weren’t around, no one could stop him?”

“Jesus, man… You know he’s got a fuckin’ temper... he needs someone to hold him back.”

“Yeah, he does have a temper.”

“Then stop pushin’ him! Stop antagonizin’ him!”, Will pleaded. He heard Pope huff a laugh.

“You’re in his fucking way, Will.”

Will heard the smile in Pope’s voice, and his blood ran cold.

“The fuck is that supposed’ta mean?”

Pope got close to Will and grabbed the back of his neck and held his face to his.

“You’re in my fucking way.”

Will felt a sharp sting in his stomach, and then warmth. Wet, hot warmth on the skin of his abdomen. The sharp sting erupted into searing pain, and he sucked in a ragged breath as his head spun.

“Santi… wha- don’t….”

“Fuck you, Will.”, Pope huskily whispered, ripping the knife out of Will’s gut. “This is on you. You wouldn’t let him just...”

“San-Santi? Pope? … why?” Will gasped, stepping back and clutching his middle. He stared up at Pope, wide eyed and trembling as he fell against the wall behind him and slid down to the ground. A tear slipped down his face as he watched his friend – his murderer – turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the alley to slip away into the inky darkness.

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

TAGLIST:

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

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!! #chubby!frankiedark #dark!frankie morales #dark!frankie still chubby though #on the waterfront #OTWF #major character death #🥩

[romanarose]

Cw coke use in a fanfiction

Planning a dark Frankie and asked my friend for help 😅

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier dark Frankie #dark Francisco morales #dark!frankie morales #triple frontier #dark triple frontier #frankie morales x reader

[ozarkthedog]

Saw your tags, Ozzie, and let me just say that dark!Frankie and dark!Joel, whether together or apart but hopefully together, would literally be the death of me 😩🤯🫣

My brain would implode and my body would transform into a literal puddle and I would thank you for it 😁❤️

LOL bitch, me too 😭

I can’t stop thinking about them!!! Maybe Frankie trades you in exchange for some supplies?? Allows Joel to have a night with you as payment and Frankie stays to watch him tear you apart and eventually joins in???

The dark thots are endless. 😈🥵😈🥵

#dark!joel miller #dark!frankie morales #ozzie responds #asks are always open

[romana-after-dark]

You sluts are in luck bc I got an idea for another dark Frankie Morales fic

#Frankie morales #Francisco morales #dark!frankie morales #triple frontier #dark triple frontier

[morallyinept]

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃

Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.

Enjoy! 🖤🎃

MASTERLIST

The lounge is dimly lit. 

Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions. 

The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.

The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze. 

Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie. 

It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens. 

But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.

You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.

As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist. 

A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.

Run bitch!

You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you. 

The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away. 

The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.

"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.

Oh, the irony.

A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out. 

You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-

"BOO!" 

A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.

The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.

Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.

"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.

Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.

"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath. 

You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask. 

It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.

"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.

"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.

"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him. 

"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”

"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.

You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this. 

"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water. 

He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.

"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass. 

You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.

"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him. 

"Revenge." You titter. 

“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting. 

"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit. 

"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone. 

"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.

"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.

"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early." 

"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again. 

You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s. 

The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out. 

"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.

You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.

You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff. 

"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt. 

"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.

You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me." 

Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you. 

An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper. 

The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.

A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM. 

You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.

The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.

What the hell?

You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.

“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.

But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch. 

You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.

You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge. 

Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.

“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act. 

Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles. 

“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.

The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled. 

Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.

You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices. 

Of all the nights to play fucking pranks. 

Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars. 

Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.

The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers. 

As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too. 

It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep. 

A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly. 

It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty. 

You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead. 

You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again. 

At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs. 

“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up. 

You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.

You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up. 

“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait. 

There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards. 

Nope!

Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.

You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.

“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!

The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house. 

“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door. 

It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs. 

“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.

You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.

Yeah. Come on, you fucker.  

With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.

You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.

Fuck! 

You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling. 

“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.

"Frankie, answer me."

You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.

The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction. 

“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.

The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor. 

You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams. 

You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide. 

You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.

His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes. 

The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even. 

But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap. 

He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly. 

In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache. 

“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him. 

They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table. 

Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.

You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly. 

"Get off of meeee!" 

The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.

The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.

Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.

You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh. 

"Help! Hel-pffh!"

The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups. 

"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night." 

The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.

You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.

Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed. 

The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.

“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts. 

You’re frozen, paralysed. 

The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.

You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears. 

Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt. 

The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you. 

Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.

You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.

But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door. 

Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind. 

Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes. 

Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.

You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are. 

He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second. 

You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.

You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles. 

“Please!” You cry out louder.

His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around. 

Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.

The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.

The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly. 

You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.

He’s had enough now. 

He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack. 

Oh fuck.

“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.

You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges. 

“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder. 

You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots. 

“Joel?" You gasp. 

“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo. 

“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness. 

Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.

“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat. 

Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.  

"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.

"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core. 

You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin. 

Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape. 

You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch. 

Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.

You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"

Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.

He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.

"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.

His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.

But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.

“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts. 

Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.

It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.

Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.

The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs. 

He's right. You do want this. 

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt. 

You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs. 

You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.

He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.

You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”

"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.

He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it. 

Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks. 

“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you. 

You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.

Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"

You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you. 

"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"

Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers. 

"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.” 

A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.

He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.

Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold. 

You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood. 

You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.

You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen. 

He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.

Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it. 

"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin. 

"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you. 

He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.

Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.

He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak. 

“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove. 

"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed. 

"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.

You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.

"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"

You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.

Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh. 

Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt." 

"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.

Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots. 

"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. 

"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.

"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice. 

"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.

Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.

It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you. 

And it feels oh so fucking good.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.

You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup. 

Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"

"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half. 

You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut." 

"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve. 

Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.

And you kinda don’t want it to. 

“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh. 

He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it. 

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off. 

But you don’t want to.

You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again. 

“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts. 

“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"

But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.

You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained. 

"Daaaaaave!" You wail.

“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth. 

You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.

You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined. 

You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.

“Fuck!” He yells out. 

When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.

You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped. 

He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.

You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe. 

You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way. 

“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge. 

Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.

He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back. 

You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat. 

“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says. 

He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense. 

“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point. 

You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists. 

Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters. 

He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.

An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s. 

But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts. 

“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes. 

You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.

“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.” 

"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.

"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.

His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.

"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss. 

"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.

You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says. 

Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.

"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out." 

“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.

You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.

"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease." 

Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.

A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host. 

But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.

Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal. 

“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt. 

Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns. 

"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp. 

Fuck!

"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself. 

You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.

"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair." 

You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight. 

“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.

Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.

It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.   

"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.

"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours. 

"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.

"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head. 

"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”

"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie." 

“Fuck her,” Dave encourages. 

Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go." 

"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.

Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back. 

He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in. 

Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust. 

Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you. 

Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”

“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"

Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.

He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt. 

Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place. 

You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.

Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you. 

Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist. 

You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.

You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both. 

Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier. 

His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs. 

He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers. 

Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans. 

"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply. 

You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.

You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls. 

"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.

"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.

You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes. 

“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.

 A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.  

"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine. 

"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass. 

"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.

“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.

Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”

“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect. 

Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.

He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.

You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.

Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit. 

You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip. 

The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.

You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.

You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.

You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.

They're everywhere, they're all over you.

Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.

You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop. 

“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his. 

The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.

You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it. 

Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release. 

“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.

Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you. 

"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.

The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.

Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.

"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.

"Yours," you whimper.

"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"

"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.

"Aah!" You groan.

“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.

"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.

He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly. 

“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.

“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”

The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you. 

He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us." 

They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.

“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."

Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.

“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.

You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening. 

But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.

Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure. 

You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something. 

She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.

Take care of her tonight. Dave adds. 

Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.

You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.

The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable. 

You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it. 

"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.

Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.

You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."

He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"

"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been. 

"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles. 

"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy. 

"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.

You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur. 

“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile. 

He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.

"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear. 

"I loved every second of it," he assures. 

"No jealousy?"

"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."

You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments. 

You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him. 

"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"

"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”

You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.

"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?" 

You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah." 

"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.

"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.

You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.

It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty. 

His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.

“Did you do something to the power?” You query.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns. 

“You guys thought of everything.” You smile. 

"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.

You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.

It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house. 

Underneath is a message typed out:

You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.  

The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:

“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.

"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms. 

I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃

🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀

MASTERLIST

#joel miller #dave york #frankie 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #dave york x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark #jett's pedro boys #jett's writing #happy halloween #fright night #joel miller tlou #dave york equalizer 2 #triple frontier frankie #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

[bruhlpng]

Pedro Pascal in Triple Frontier (2019)

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #ppascaledit #pedropascaledit #netflixedit #pedrohub #frankie catfish morales #this movie is so FUCKING DARK and awful to color #mine* #**

[iamasaddie]

horny&depraved book club (welcome back, my dear psycho)

Part 3 of beautiful, smutty, absolutely fucked up fanfiction! Don't forget, this fic rec list contains dark works that have extremely dark topics, [main warnings are listed in brackets]. All works are x f!Reader.

LANDLORD FROM HELL by @absurdthirst [dark!Frankie Morales; voyeurism; manipulation; abusive relationships; murder]

I CAN BE YOUR PRETTY GIRL by @walkintotheriveranddisappear [manipulative!Joel Miller; dub-con; virgin reader; age gap]

STRANGERS by @toxic-seduction [Joel Miller; non con/dub con; public sex; exhibitionism; voyeurism]

ULTRAVIOLENCE by @devilmademewriteit [Joel Miller; non con; light dacryphilia; age gap; coercion]

HOUSE ARREST by @shadeysprings [Joel Miller; noncon, smut, stepcest, age gap]

ALL YOU WANNA DO @atticrissfinch [dark!creeper!Joel Miller; non con; girthy age gap; fetishization of new-adulthood]

CLAIM by @ezrasbirdie [dark!Joel Miller; dub con; somnophilia; power dynamics]

HOSTAGE by @atticrissfinch [serial killer!Joel Miller; noncon; kidnapping; assault; gunplay; degradation]

TWISTED LOVE by @cool-iguana [Joel Miller; dub con; dacryphilia; stockholm syndrome; dom/sub]

CNC by @toxicanonymity [Joel Miller; consensual non con; dub con]

You can contribute to the book club by mentioning your favorite dark works (all Pedro Pascal characters are welcomed) OR send some creepy love to the amazing authors by again mentioning them in the comments or just sliding into their ask box! Also, if you have written your own dark works that weren't mentioned here but you think they deserve some recognition, don't be shy and promote that depravity!

REMEMBER! FICTION IS NOT REAL LIFE AND WHATEVER YOU SEE ON PAGE DOES NOT MEAN I (or anyone else) CONDONES THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR IRL. 

Whatever you do in life should be safe, sane and consensual.

#horny&depraved book club #dark fic #joel miller x reader #frankie morales x reader

[pedroshotwifey]

Dark!Recs (Pedro Characters)

Joel Miller

Bullet For You, Darlin' by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Raider!Joel x AFAB!Reader

Sunshine by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Dark!Joel x AFAB!Reader

Caught by @toxicanonymity One shot - Dark!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Give an Inch, Take a Mile by @thatmrmiller One shot - Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Twisted Love and Cruel Love by @cool-iguana Two part series - Dark!Joel Miller x reader

Unnamed Mean!Joel Drabble by @marsswann Drabble - Dark!Joel x Crybaby!reader

Perfect, Wake, and Shopping by @notjustjavierpena One shot series - Mean Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x reader

Left in Lincoln by @toxicanonymity Series - Softdark!Joel Miller x virgin!reader

I Can Be Your Pretty Girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear Series - Darkish!Joel Miller x fem!reader Joel is a manipulative, pushy, and pervy asshole... and I go for it every time.

Hate by @notjustjavierpena One shot - Mean!Joel Miller x f!reader

Smother by @beardedjoel Series (ongoing) - Creepy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Close Call by @toxicanonymity One shot - darkish!Joel Miller x f!reader

All I Did Was What I Had To by @corazondebeskar-reads Series (more parts tbd) - Mean!Joel Miller x f!Reader

No Soul To Sell by @atticrissfinch One shot - dark!ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel miller x fem!reader

Rebound by @springdandelixn on ao3 Short series (complete) - Dark!dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Din Djarin

Whispers in the Dark by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Dark!Din Djarin x Reader

Memento Mori by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Serialkiller!Din x Reader

To Touch Darkness by @djarincore one shot - Dark!Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Partners by @pedge-page One shot - forceful!Din Djarin x f!reader

Javier Peña

Gonna Make You Sweat by @mypoisonedvine One shot - Dark(kinda)DBF!Javier Peña x reader

Like the Girls in the Movies by @walkintotheriveranddisappear One shot - Pervy!Javi x afab!reader

Frankie Morales

On The Waterfront series by @beefrobeefcal Ongoing Series - Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!reader

No Eres Tú (Soy Yo) by @iamasaddie One shot - Dark!Frankie Morales x f!reader

UPDATED 12/3/23

#dark fic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fic rec #din djarin #the mandalorian #frankie morales #smut #ao3 #fan fiction #javier peña #joel miller

[beefrobeefcal]

Dark!Frankie Saga: IV

Chapter Four: Going Out in Style

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 4,350

Content Warning: SMUT (YES WE'RE HERE!), references to SA, almost SA, violence, threats of violence, crime, weight talk, eating, belly admiration, cooking, fingering, blow job

Author's Notes:

A day late, but we're here!

Once again, the biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

Beefro’s Master List | Previous Chapter

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

It had been over a week since you last saw Frankie, when he shoved you into your room after eating the entire tray of shepherd’s pie. In that time, you’d also had no run ins with Pope or any of the other frontiersmen beyond Will taking you to and from the office and Benny taking Will’s place when he wasn’t able to be there.

Today had been different. You were up and ready, waiting for Will to arrive. When he didn’t, you popped your head out of your room into the quiet hallway. Hesitating for a moment, you finally walked down the corridor and opened the door, peaking into the lounge; it was empty, too.

You’d been waiting and were hungry. Normally, Will would have you stop in the kitchen for a quick breakfast on your way to the office, but being that he was over an hour late, you wondered what the harm in getting your own breakfast would be. Quietly and quickly stepping across the room and into the kitchen, you made quick work of the instant oatmeal and a banana before scurrying back to your room to eat.

Another hour passes as you wait for Will. You’d now gotten an old Kindle and a few books from Benny, and despite the contents of the e-reader being nowhere near what you would normally read, you were thankful for it especially this morning. You sat up in bed, legs stretched out with one dangling off the side.

It was almost noon when Will did arrive. He seemed off, like something had spooked him, and his eyes didn’t stay on the same spot for more than a second, wildly looking everywhere after he barged into your room, breathing heavily.

He looked you, wide eyed, trying to steady his breathing. He looked over your desk, seeing the evidence of your breakfast and nodded.

“Good… yeah… Got breakfast… good.”, he breathed out, nodding.

Will’s thoughts were overrun with trying to grapple with what he’d discovered and how he was going to keep Frankie - his boss, his friend – safe. Why he came to you while his mind raced through every scenario and how to avoid terrible outcomes, he didn’t know.

You, on the other hand, didn’t know if he was high, coming down off something, or what the problem was, but you nodded back at him, pulling your legs towards you out of caution.

Will’s eyes darted back to you, his brows twitching between a frown and concern, then he went unnervingly still, his eyes boring into you, like he’d been trying to solve a problem and then solution had struck him. A eureka moment had never looked so sinister.

“You… you like Fish – Mr. Morales, right, honey?”, he said in a staggered voice, taking a step closer to you, nodding with a grin, like he was telling you what your answer should be. “You… you want him to keep protecting you, right?”

Eyes trained on him, you nodded, willing the bed to allow you to sink further into it and the wall behind to get away from Will closing in on you.

“Yeah?... yeah, you do… yeah…”, he breathes with a wide, nervous grin. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling for a beat. “You gotta do something for me, honey… something for Mr. Morales.”

Will’s breathing was almost labored, like he was on the verge of a breakdown, and he was trying to bring himself back from the edge. He nodded at you as he pulled out the chair at your desk and sat down. You could see the sweat on his brow, the beads dripping down his neck. He must be high. You thought to yourself.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans and nodded again, breathing out okay, okay, okay to himself. You watched, not able to react outwardly, not sure how he would react to anything you did.

“Honey… you gotta listen to me… he… uh, Mr. Morales wants… he told me to tell you… he needs you… to… to be… useful…”

Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head, and Will stood up, coming towards you. He leaned over you, gripping your knees, and he nodded.

“Yes… yes… honey, please… Mr. Morales… he needs you to… to make the first move… this is… what he likes… please… you need to…”

Will’s eyes were pleading as he nodded at you.

“No… please no… I can’t!”, you hissed back at him, desperation making you shake.

 His brows furrowed and then frowned, his mouth tightened, and his cold, blue eyes glared into yours. The grip he had on your knees grew firmer.

“You’ll fuckin’ do it… he’ll fuckin’ throw you to Pope. You think he’ll keep you off limits if you don’t fuck him? You gotta be useful for him to keep you ‘round!”

A terrified whimper sticks in your throat, and your chin quivers.

“I’m on your side… I know what he likes. You’ll… you’ll be fine. I just wanna help you.” Will’s face relaxed as he spoke, his tone, however, remained tense. “You do this? He’ll treat you good… new sheets… new books... might get to leave the compound more often… better protection. Just gotta… gotta make yourself more useful, honey.”

“I am useful!”, you plead, trying to pull away from him. “i… I-I do the books w-with you and-and I cooked for him… I fed him… I did what I was told!”

Will scowled at you and shook his head.

“Honey… Frankie doesn’t eat… he fuckin’ devours… and the only way you’re gonna survive is if you let him devour you.” He growls lowly, leaning his face closer to yours.

You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t have a choice but to comply if you wanted to make it out of this. You had no idea what had come over Will to put you in this position, but you knew this was not an argument he was going to lose. You searched his face one last time for any hint of an out, and when nothing was found, you nodded.

“Good girl.”

*****

You found yourself at the door to Frankie’s office. You were nervous. You’d told yourself you shouldn’t be but given how terrifyingly Will had behaved before giving you a crash course on how you needed to behave for Frankie and how you could hear Frankie berating someone behind the door, your knees felt weak.

“You fuckin’ pull that shit again! Fuckin’ try me!”, you heard him yell. “Now get the fuck out of my sight, you shit weasel!”

With that, the door to the office flew open and you were nearly bowled over by one of the lower rung men as he ran out of the office. You moved out of the way just in time, but not before Pope saw you from his position beside the desk Frankie hulked behinds menacingly.

“Hey Honey.”, he said in a horribly smooth voice. “Fish, we got company.”

Frankie was leaning over the desk, hands planted on the wood, and he looked up at you. The harsh, tight frown he held on his face softened, and he nodded his head to grant you entrance. You stepped in, remembering the lesson your learned about hesitating at the end of your last interaction, moving towards Frankie, and standing in front of the desk.

You held your hands in front of you, nervously fidgeting them. Before coming to the office, Will had picked out a dress for you to wear. He’d ripped through your clothing, almost deranged, until he’s come to the one you now had on; it was form fitting and short. You’d always worn it with tights or leggings, but Will had sent you out bare legged and vulnerable.

Frankie looked you over, and he huffed a small, cold laugh as a grin tugged on one side of his mouth.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”, he asked in a much gentler tone than you expected.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before a word could come out, Pope sided up next to you, one hand coming to fix an errant hair and the other’s fingers gently skimming your side.

“I know what you need, Honey...” His breath was hot on your jaw and neck as he spoke lowly.

You turned your head, pulling your body away from his touch and he chuckled.

“Hey, fucker!”, Frankie’s voice boomed, making you jump. You turned your eyes up at him and they were zeroed in on you.

“Sorry, Fish... my bad.”, Pope chuckled with a devilish grin, holding his hands up as he took a step back from you. Frankie could see how uncomfortable you were and motioned you to come to him with his fingers and you moved to the other side of the desk, taking care that your dress didn’t ride up with each step.

He turned to you, resting his hand on the desk and the other on his hip. His face softened again as he licked his bottom lip.

“What’dya need, Honey?”, he said softly.

You could feel Pope’s eyes on you, and it made your skin crawl.

“Come on, honey... boss doesn’t have all day...”, Pope sneered.

“Shut the fuck up, Pope.”, Frankie barked, pointing at the smaller man.  He turned his attention back to you, placing the hand he’d just pointed so aggressively at Pope with gently on your shoulder and lowered his voice, “Come on, baby... tell me what’s going on.”

“Will sent me to ask if you... if you wanted dinner, Mr. Morales.” You felt your cheeks flush as you heard yourself speak in that ridiculously meek voice as Frankie gave you a soft grin.

Pope let out a laugh from behind you, and snickered, “Fuckin’ Will...”

Frankie glowered at Pope, then turned back to you, with a low voice, and he gently moved his hand to your neck, his thumb softly touching your jaw. “What’re you gonna make me, baby?”

“I make... I make a pretty good lasagna. Do you like lasagna, Mr. Morales?”

Pope let out a loud bark of a laugh, standing closer to the desk and sitting on it sideways, forcing himself to be a part of this conversation. “I like lasagna, too, honey... We all do.”

Frankie’s face turned back to Pope, and he barked one word: “OUT.”

Pope’s smile fell and he scowled at you, but you wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looked up at Frankie, and when he was met with his cold stare, he raised his brows, got off the desk and nodded. He turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

Frankie watched him leave and took a deep breath before returning his attention to you. He smiled and spoke to you like he would a child.

“You go make that lasagna and you bring it here when it’s done. Okay, baby?”

“Yes, Mr. Morales.”

“Good girl.”, he smiled, giving your neck an affectionate squeeze before releasing you.

You quickly turned, not wanting to hesitate, and walked towards the door.

“I like your dress, Honey.”, he called out to you with a sly grin, and you turned back to him with a shy smile, giving him a small curtsey, which highlighted how short this dress really was on you.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.”

*****

“Benny?”, you called out from the kitchen. After what seemed like hours, you were finally ready to put the lasagna in the oven.

Benny walked in and watched as you carefully placed the casserole dish on the rack and closed the oven door. He’d asked earlier about the last time you’d cooked for Frankie and how it went, and after prying the details out of you, he felt uneasy about the whole thing. He liked you, thought you were sweet and cute. He knew you were off limits, not that he wanted to touch you, but he felt like he needed to step in and be that protector, that older brother you deserved.

“You’re gonna take this to his office... and what? Feed him?”, he asked, quietly, not wanting to think about what Frankie had planned for you. He was his friend, but you deserved better.

“I don’t know, Benny.”, you sighed with a shrug. “I just have to, I don’t know... I have to be useful.”

You didn’t mention to him about Will, knowing he had a temper and not wanting Frankie to find out that Benny lost his shit on his brother because of something you said.

Benny said nothing in response; he just shook his head and huffed.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”, you smiled warmly at him.

Benny smiled back at you, but it didn't reach his eyes. Something about the way he looked at you made you question the gentleness of Frankie’s touch in his office, the soft voice he used for you. Yeah, Will said that this was how you could be useful, but Frankie wouldn’t do anything like that to you,would he?He just liked to have someone pretty bring him food and watch him eat, which if you were being honest with yourself, you were the perfect candidate for the job. 

He likes pretty things. Pretty cars, pretty views, pretty profits, pretty girls, Honey. Will’s words rang through your skull as your eyes searched Benny’s for more information.

But what if Frankie wanted to use you like that? You had expected as much before, going so far as to mentally prepare yourself for him to fuck you the last time you’d been left alone in the very kitchen you stood in.

Why was Benny looking at you like that? Like he felt... guilt? Oh god...

He watched your face fall, and he cleared this throat, looking away.

“Come on, Honey... can’t keep the big guy waitin’.”

*****

Benny walked along side you in the hallways, helping you bring the food along with the accompanying dishes and cutlery to Frankie’s office. As you approached the door, Benny quickly stepped in front of you. He looked down at you, the nervousness overtaking his features and voice.

“Nothin’ you don’t want, Honey. Don’t let’im do nothin’ you don’t want, okay?”

You nodded in return, a sour feeling blooming in your gut. He nodded back and took a deep breath, then pushed open the office door.

“He’s not here.”, Benny said with a slight hint of relief in his voice. “I’ll help you bring this back to the kitchen.”

“No… just put to down. He said for me to bring it to him here.” You kept your eyes lowered as you placed the plate, knife, fork and a beer where he sat at his desk. Benny put the casserole dish down on one of the side tables, then turned and looked at you.

As he was about to speak, the office door opened, and Frankie walked in, followed by Will. You froze as you saw him trail in after Frankie. He made quick eye contact with you before shifting his attention to Benny.

“We’re gonna head out to collect some payments, Benny. Come on.”, Will ordered, motioning him to follow. He waited at the door as Benny walked past you, giving you one last look, before moving towards the exit. Will gave you a quick glance then closed the door behind him and Benny, leaving you alone with Frankie.

Frankie watched you and Benny exchange looks before the younger man left with Will, and he felt a pang of jealousy. You trusted him, and, from what he’d been told and what he had seen, you weren’t afraid of him. Benny had even said you were funny and smart. Not that Frankie doubted that, but he’d never seen that side of you. He had a fleeting need; he wanted that for himself, feeling he was owed that given that he hadn’t tossed you to one of the other guys, especially Pope. He wanted you in your entirety. He couldn’t deny how hot it was that you were so much smaller than he was, especially when he towered over you after he ate. But was that really him or was that the lifestyle and power he had acquired now that he led the Frontiersmen? No one said no to him or questioned what he said, but you, with your openness to Benny countering your nervousness towards him, had destabilized this secure notion that had carried him the last five years. He knew he had to tread lightly with you to get what he wanted.

Before you heard Frankie, you felt him move behind you; his hand resting softly on your upper back between your shoulder blades. He stepped closer to you, gently moving his hand down your back and around your waist to turn you around to him.

“Smells really fucking good, baby.”, he groaned. You could hear the smile in his voice and sure enough, it was confirmed as you turned to face him. Looking up into his face, you could see his soft brown eyes looking down at you warmly.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.”

You were getting lost in his eyes, hypnotized by his gaze as he backed you against the desk. When your backside hit the mahogany, he pressed himself against you and cupped his large hand against the back of your neck, his thumb, as he did earlier, touched your jaw lightly.

“Did so good for me today, Honey. You’re gonna plate some of that delicious smelling food up for me and you and I are gonna get to know each some more, okay?”

You nodded in return, and he gave you a stern look. “Gotta use that pretty mouth and talk to me, baby.”

“Y – yes, Mr. Morales.”, you stumbled.

He smiled and stepped back, releasing you to get to work. He sat heavily in his office chair. You could tell he’d eaten already today, based on the way his belt and pants pulled a little tighter across his waist and how his undershirt that he wore under the open Hawaiian shirt was already looking a little snug.

As soon as you’d plated up his food and places it in front of him, he tugged you by the waist to sit on one of his thighs, then pulled his chair closer to the desk. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the lasagna, and you watched him intently.

After he swallowed, he smiled and huffed a laugh as he shook his head and said before taking another bite, “You’re gonna wreck me for any other cook, baby. Tell me how you made it.”

*****

You’d only stayed on his lap for the first helping, moving to sitting on the desk next to his beer with your knees crossed for the remainder of his meal. His hand would occasionally come up and rest on your calf or thigh before he would grab his beer for a drink.

He asked for more information about you, your home life, your up bringing, anything he could think of that Benny would have asked and you slowly seemed to be less nervous with him.

By the time he’d finished the whole dish, Frankie was sitting back in his chair, thighs wide and belly protruding. He’d finally deemed you warmed up enough for him and he turned the questioning over to you.

“Alright baby… enough of you hogging the spotlight.”, he grunted with a smile, shifting his belt and pants lower to allow more room for his stomach. “You got any questions for me?”

You thought for a moment about what Will had said. Frankie liked food and he liked pretty things.

“Come on, honey… you gotta have some questions rattling around in that pretty head of yours.”, he said lowly as you watched his heavy middle move up and down with each breath. You smiled shyly, enjoying his use of the word pretty when he spoke to you; did it mean he liked you?

“Well, I was wondering, Mr. Morales…”, you spoke sweetly as you played with the hem of your skirt and lifted it slightly, seeing his eyes shirt to watch your fingers. “What’s your favourite dessert?”

A low grumble came from his chest as his eyes darkened, and he grinned.

“I like a lot of things, baby.”, he growled, his hand moving up your thigh, higher than the hem of your dress, and he gripped it, forcing your legs to become uncrossed.

“I like cake… pie… ice cream… pastries, chocolate, macarons, not picky about dessert, baby. But you know what my favourite is?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and your core trembling, and you shook your head. He moved both his hands in front of him on the desk to heave himself out of the chair and he stood between your parted legs. His face came close enough that his nose touched yours and he ghosted his mouth over your lips.

“Sweet… soft… warm… pussy.”

He didn’t kiss you but the hand that wasn’t bracing him above you pushed between your legs and moved your panties to the side. Frankie groaned when he felt how wet you were, and a self-satisfied smirk grew on his face as you whimpered.

He traced his middle finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit as he circled it. Every small whine, pant or whimper was met with him nodding and saying “yeah” or “uh-huh, baby” under his breath in response.

“You want more, pretty baby?”, he cooed, nuzzling his nose against yours. The gentle act had you almost come right there, but your made your self nod.

“Yeah-yes, please… please, Mr. Morales!”, you whined breathily.

He removed his hand and gripped your panties, pulling them down and off you, before he pushed you down and shoved your skirt up. He pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pumped in and out while the other hand pushed down his belt and jeans to give his belly further room before it moved to hold your hip.

“Jesus, you’re pretty… but you look so much prettier like this, baby… fuck, you needed this, huh?... too fucking tight for your own good.”

“Please… please more… more, Mr. Morales!”, you whined.

He added another finger and pushed in deeper with each pump, making the wet, squelching noises obscener.

“So fucking wet… just for me, right?”, he said darkly before growling, “No one else touches you, right?”

“No… no one else… only you, Mr. Morales.”

“That’s fucking right… just me… you’re mine…”, he grunted, adding a third finger harshly.

You yelped out, trying to move away but his hand on your hip held you firmly in place and his face was dark with his brows crossed and his mouth twisted in a frown.

From out in the hallway, Pope could hear sounds. It only took a minute of his ear up against the wall to figure out what Frankie was doing to you. He grinned devilishly and hurried down to the rec room to tell Benny. He couldn’t wait to see that blond shit’s face when he told him that Frankie was finger fucking you over his desk.

“You’ll fucking take what I give you, baby… be a good girl…”, he growled, finally moving him thumb to rub circles around your clit, bringing you some relief. “That’s it… I’ll make it feel so good for you, but you gotta behave… there you go… that’s it… feels good now, baby?”

“God!... fuck, yes, Frankie!”, you cried out, not even realizing what you’d said until his fingers were ripped out of you, and he grabbed your jaw with his slicked up hand.

“You don’t call me that.”, he snarled, his lip curling in a menacing sneer. “Don’t you ever fucking call me that! You only get that privilege if I fuck you in my fucking bed!”

You wanted to beg his forgiveness, explain it was a mistake, tell him he didn’t have to finish you off, but your voice was caught in the lump in your throat. Your eyes were starting to tear up and you chided yourself at being so sensitive.

He gripped your face tighter, and barked, “Do you understand?!”

You swallowed hard and nodded, and he shoves your face away from his, slumping into the office chair.

“Get the fuck out of here.”, he snarled as he wiped his fingers on his napkin.

You trembled looking at him, knowing if you left, you were back at the mercy of his temper. You had to prove you belonged here with him, that you were useful to him.

You slid off the desk and got on your knees, crawling towards him. Once between his open legs, you placed your hands on his thighs and lightly rubbed them.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, he growled in a warning tone.

“Apologizing, Mr. Morales.”, you said softly, slowly moving your hands to his belt buckle, giving him ample time to stop you. But he didn’t.

With a little more effort due to his belly heavily pushing against it, you unbuckled and opened his belt and jeans. Your eyes stayed on his as he lifted his hips a bit and you pulled his jeans down, and then you saw the impressive tent in his boxer shorts, topped with a wet patch from precum.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Morales.”, you cooed, reaching up and gently tugging on his covered erection.

“Bet you are, baby…”, he grunted and sucked in a breath. “Go on… show me how sorry you are.”

You pulled the fabric down and released his cock, slapping up against his belly, and he hissed as the cool air hit it.

Frankie figured he’s get a hand job out of you and call it a night, but when you gripped his cock and opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip, his jaw slacked and his eyes widened.

“Fuck… pretty baby…”

You gave the tip a few kitten licks and said before taking his length down your throat:

 “I’m sorry, Mr. Morales.”

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

TAGLIST:

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!! #dark!frankie still chubby though #dark!frankie au #dark!frankie morales #dark!triple frontier #on the waterfront #otwf #beefro's bistro #🥩

[auteurdelabre]

Daddy Morales - FINAL Frankie! x F!Reader

Summary: After Frankie breaks things off with you to protect his marriage, you decide to make him jealous at a family BBQ. . . and then you ensure he stays yours permanently.

rating: 18+

tags contain spoilers

tags contain spoilers

tags contain spoilers

tags: Infidelity, Face-Fucking, MAJOR Daddy Kink, Doggy Style, Cock Riding, Nickname: Babygirl, Dom!Frankie, Sub!Frankie, Possessive, Jealousy, Sexual Coersion, Forced Impregnation.

a/n: please don't look at me. This series was finished for the one person who said they wanted the ending. I hope its... okay? Tell me if I missed any tags!

masterlist here

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

Pigtails. 

Frankie breaks things off with you for the sake of his marriage and sanity and you show up today in fucking pigtails. 

"Hi Mr. Morales," you say when he opens his front door.

Frankie is gobsmacked to see you here on a Saturday morning when he and his family are supposed to be heading out to Will's place for a BBQ.  

Two weeks ago he'd called you during the day, his heart in his stomach. He knew he had to break things off. Fucking you in his bed, coming inside you without knowing you were on birth control? He was out of his element, playing with fire. 

You'd been upset. Called him a liar. Said he was a hypocrite. You'd also turned down two babysitting jobs at their place since then, citing you were busy at school. 

He's deleted everything off his phone that you were on. No more photos of you sleepy eyed in bed kissing him. No more texts of your hand slipped below your panties with xo. He never texted you back and your face isn't shown in the photos so thankfully there was nothing much to scrub there. 

It's like this never happened. 

He'd been terrified that you'd tell Carmen. For the last two weeks he'd been waiting for her to come storming in, slapping his face and demanding a divorce. 

But instead things are calm at home. In his guilt Frankie is more patient with her, listening intently when she talks, he's more loving. He kisses her temple and brushes his hand along her back when she walks by him. He tells her how beautiful she is when she rocks Luca to sleep. 

They even fucked last night. Frankie forgot how good it felt to be with someone his age, how loving it could be when they weren't fighting. Carmen made him a husband, a father. She's done so much to make sure she's not critical of him as much. Things are going good, Frankie almost thinks of his indiscretion as a wakeup call. 

And then today you and pigtails. 

You give a small smirk, looking up at him. You twirl one of your pigtails innocently as he stares at your shorts and tight t-shirt. You're not wearing a bra and he is positive he can see the outline of your nipples.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hi Mrs. Morales," you say ignoring him and looking over his shoulder. 

He feels his blood run cold when Carmen approaches with a babbling Luca in her arms. 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Carmen tells you with a smile, handing Luca over to you. Frankie is still thrown, confused as to what is happening. 

"What--"

"I thought we should take some time and enjoy the BBQ," Carmen says attempting civility. "Figured if Luca has his babysitter that means we can enjoy some grown up time."

"But I wanted the guys to see Luca," Frankie argues, desperate to find a reason to send you home. 

"He will," Carmen says motioning to you holding their son. "She's coming with us." 

///

"Fuck, isn't she a pretty little thing," Benny says from behind his beer bottle later that afternoon.

"She is a peach," Will agrees. 

Frankie frowns as the men gather around the BBQ giving appraising looks as you bend over to pick up one of Luca's toys. 

The day is sunny and warm and swarming with friends and Miller relations. The food is plentiful and the cold drinks close at hand. There's been plenty of laughing and teasing, but when the conversation turns to Frankie's cute babysitter his good mood dims. 

Carmen is nearby talking to one of the Miller cousins, laughing. Frankie looks past her to see you laughing as you fly a toy plane overhead of a gurgling Luca. 

"How do you leave the house when something like that is just hanging around?" Benny smirks to Frankie. "She always dress like that?"

No.

You're usually in jeans and a casual shirt. Not shorts so high he can see the curve of your ass begin. Not with t-shirts so tight he can see your fucking nipples. And never, never in pigtails. You're doing it to fuck with him. To make him want you and know that he can't have you. You want to punish him for stopping things. 

Frankie watches Benny walking over to you, holding out a beer to you. You shake your head, motioning to Luca and probably saying you can't while you're working. 

Benny moves closer and Frankie doesn't miss how your eyes briefly flit over to him before turning back to Benny. 

"You okay there Frank?" Pope smirks. "Gonna shatter that glass. Things okay with the old lady?"

Frankie holds in a relieved sigh. They just assume you're irritated that Carmen's talking with some guy.  

"It's okay," Frankie shrugs. "Getting better."

"Good," Pope asks, his dark eyes losing their humor. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Yeah we're getting back on track," Frankie says, dragging his eyes away from you and Benny. 

"Living happily," Pope observes, placing a gentle hand to his friends shoulder and squeezing tightly. "That's what they call winning at life."

Frankie wants to reply but he seems to have lost sight of you in the process of the conversation. His dark eyes scan the space and he turns to Carmen as she approaches him a short while later. 

"Where is the fucking babysitter?" Frankie grumbles. "Aren't we paying her?"

"Ease up Frankie," Carmen says handing him a Coke as she holds a sleepy Luca. "She's been amazing all day. She's allowed a break."

Frankie doesn't ease up. He doesn't ease up because he's noticed another glaring absentee amongst the throng of BBQ guests - Benny. 

Without thinking Frankie's legs carry him into the Miller house, his heart hammering. Much like in Columbia he enters stealthily, his footfalls quiet as he scans each room. It's when he comes to the main level bathroom door that he pauses. It's closed, and when he tilts forward he can hear Benny's voice. 

"You know why they call these handlebars?" Benny is asking, his voice teasing. Frankie swallows the white hot rage that comes along with your giggled response. 

"No, why?"

"Lemme show you," Benny says, his voice pitched low. "Why don't you get on your knees, gorgeous?"

Frankie feels his jaw clenching, his hand tightening around the doorknob. He feels jealousy licking at his abdomen when he hears shuffling and the sound of a zipper being drawn down.

"You like it?" Benny asks. 

No. Say no. 

"Mhmm," you enthuse. "S'pretty."

"It'll look prettier in that mouth of yours," Benny says, voice dipping softly. "Why don't you taste it?"

There's a pause and then the wet sounds Frankie knows so well. It makes his pulse pound furiously in his chest.

"Oh yeah baby," Benny groans. "You're fucking good at that."

You give a breathless thank you before Frankie hears you take him into your mouth again and begin moaning gently around him. 

Frankie thinks he's going to dent the knob in his hand by how hard he's squeezing it. His ear is pressed so tightly against the door it aches. 

"We gotta be quiet though," Benny says between grunts. "Can you do that?"

Frankie holds his breath as you must pull off Benny once more. 

"Yes Daddy."

Frankie sees red. 

He shoulders open the door grunting as the cheap lock breaks and it thrusts open. He catches the mirrors reflection of you on your knees with your mouth around Benny's cock. He's gripping your pigtails one in each fist, holding you in place as he fucks into your mouth. 

When Frankie comes barreling into the room the two of you break apart, you wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, Benny hurriedly tucking himself back into his shorts. 

"Frankie what the fuck man?"

"She's my fucking babysitter," Frankie says menacingly. "What is wrong with you?"

"She's an adult, man-"

"She's supposed to be babysitting my kid," Frankie spits out, his face red with anger. "We're not paying her to be in here sucking your cock!"

He looks deranged, so much so that Benny actually cowers.  He’s never seen Frankie like this, not since Columbia and the horrible time there. When Frankie’s eyes blew black and wide and furious.

"I'm sorry," Benny says. "I'm sorry, Frank."

"Get the fuck outta here."

Benny leaves scrambling and zipping up his shorts. He doesn't even cast a look at you as he rushes out. Frankie slams the door after him. 

"And you," Frankie says rounding on you still kneeling on the floor. He expects you to look terrified of his anger but instead you look... Amused? 

"Calling another man Daddy?" Frankie grunts out furiously, grabbing you by the back of the neck and forcing you to a stand. He holds you by the scruff of your neck as you smile sweetly up at him. 

"I'm sorry Daddy."

"You're gonna be," Frankie growls. 

He forces you over to the bathroom sink and pins you between himself and the bathroom counter tugging down your shorts and panties. He doesn't even check to see if you're wet, he just slides himself into your cunt. 

"You wanna be a whore?" Frankie spits, cock slamming into you from behind. "Then you're gonna take cock like one."

"Fuck!”  you cry out, eyes wide as he tilts you over the counter. 

"Shut the fuck up and take it," Frankie orders. "You take Daddy's cock and you say thank you."

Frankie sees your head dropping and he responds by pressing your body further against the counter, watching your reflection in the mirror. His hips are smacking into your ass loudly. You jolt forward over the sink, your hands gripping the counter tightly. You don't know if you love or hate what's going on. 

Frankie looks at the back of your head, eyes fixed on those fucking pigtails. He takes one in each broad hand and uses them to tug your head back. Your mouth hangs open slack, eyes on him in the reflection. 

"You watch yourself get fucked," Frankie groans, eyes heavy lidded. "You fucking watch Daddy's cock slide into your tight little cunt."

"Yes Daddy," you whimper, you entire body rippling as he fucks himself deeper into you from behind. 

"Who's cock do you come on?

"Only yours."

Frankie looks possessed, his teeth clenched tightly as he fucks you. "Who's mouth?"

"Yours, Daddy."

"That's right."

You begin to moan now as his cock hits a particularly good spot within you. Frankie winces, thinking if someone else decides to come into the house they’ll hear you.

"Being too loud babygirl," Frankie pants out. "Gotta make sure that mouth is full." 

He pulls out of you roughly. You give a small whimper of surprise before he's turned you around and forced you on your knees. You don’t hestitate to submit, your eyes bright and gleeful as Frankie unravels in front of you.

"Open," he orders and you comply, eyes glazed. Your mouth opens widely, tongue out enticingly. Frankie smiles at how eager you are. He takes his thick cock in hand, tapping it against your tongue. 

"You don't call anyone else Daddy, do you understand?”

You nod, about to say something when he thrusts his cock between your lips and starts fucking hard. 

"You belong to me," Frankie tells you darkly, hands wrapping around your pigtails once more to hold you in place. "This mouth only sucks my cock."

"Ylesh Dahnndy," you garble around his cock. 

His cock comes popping out of your mouth and he strokes vigorously, his cheeks stained with red. You’re breathing deeply, swallowing before his cock thrusts back between your lips, fucking your mouth until your eyes water.  He does this over and over until saliva drips down your chin and your face is wet with tears.

Only then does he pull out, panting so heavily he feels dizzy. You look wrecked, eyes half-open and mouth swollen.

"I missed you, Daddy," you tell him with a hoarse voice.  

"Missed you too babygirl," Frankie pants, feeling lightheaded. He strokes a thumb along your lower lip. "You're doing so good for Daddy."

You beam up at him, kneeled at his feet. Frankie continues stroking his cock, picking up the pace. 

"Want you to fuck me hard Daddy," you tell him, your hand replaces his. You give ginger licks to the head of his cock as you continue to jerk him off. “Finish inside me.”

"We've been gone too long already," Frankie insists, even though his cock continues to thrust into your slick palm.

“I think you wanna fuck me,” you say, pausing to take off your shirt. Frankie watches those luscious fucking tits free themselves to the air, groaning as you stand naked and waiting for him.

"Need you deep," you say as you fingers slide between your legs. "Need to come on Daddy's cock." You kneel there at his feet, touching yourself and moaning.

"Baby please," Frankie murmurs, but he's already stepping out of his jeans and stepping over to you. “We should stop.”

"You really wanna stop, Daddy?" you say with an oily smile up at him, fingers working between your legs. "When my pussy is this wet and tight for you?"

Frankie makes a strangled noise in his throat before he drops to the ground next to you.

"No baby. Please let Daddy fuck you."

You smile when he urges you onto your hands and knees on the tile and begins to slam his hips into your ass with vigor. It makes a loud, clapping noise. 

"This is so wrong," Frankie whimpers, hating that the knowledge is turning him on this badly.

He watches your hips flexing as he fucks you from behind. The reflection of the shower door shows him your tits bouncing with every thrust. Frankie feels his balls tighten when you glance over your shoulder, jerking with every thrust from Frankie.

"Tell me I'm the only girl you wanna fuck."

"You are," Frankie promises you, eyes half-lidded. "Only wanna fuck this perfect pussy."

"Prove it."

"How?" Frankie starts to babble, feeling that tingle at the base of his spine. "I'll do anything."

"Leave your wife," you groan, feeling his cock nudging your g-spot over and over. "Leave your wife and you can have me. You can fuck this perfect cunt every day." 

“Christ,” Frankie moans, his back damp with sweat as he fucks into you.

"You wanna leave her," you insist, ass bouncing against his hips. “I know you do.”

You both dissolve into moans and grunts for the next several seconds, Frankie pulls you up by the waist until your back is balanced against his front. He fucks up into you, grunting into your ear.

"Yes, I wanna leave her," Frankie says if only so you'll keep squeezing his cock like that. "This is the only cunt I wanna fuck." 

"Finish inside me," you whimper, arching further for him as you feel his hips start to stutter under you. "Finish inside me and make me yours, Daddy."

"Yes yes yes," Frankie hisses pulling you down against his twitching cock. "Gonna make a mess of y-"

The door bursts open just before he can finish his sentence, startling Frankie enough that he pulls out but not before he comes, pearlescent stripes decorating your ass. He groans out loudly as he comes, draining his cock onto you. 

"Frankie what the fuck?"

Frankie snaps out of his lust filled haze long enough to see Carmen at the door to the now opened bathroom door with a sleeping Luca in her arms. She looks at the babysitter kneeling away from Frankie, ass coated in come. She looks at her husband's red cheeks and softening cock. 

He's about to say something, anything, when you suddenly start giggling. Frankie is horrified when you crawl up into his lap and start grinding against his flaccid cock.  

"What are you doing?" Frankie murmurs, his heart going wild in his chest. You look completely composed however, almost irritated at the interruption. He feels you loop your arms around his neck and continue rubbing your pussy along his cock.

Frankie darts his eyes to his wife's face as she watches her husband's cock swell to life and her babysitter slowly lower herself onto it. Carmen is horrified, stuck in spot as she watches her husband start to grind up against the woman in his lap.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

Frankie hears Carmen and goes to turn his head, but your hands have come to either side of his face to stop him. You force his eyes to you, rising and falling as you take his cock further.

"Don't stop," you murmur, your pussy moving up and down his cock. Frankie's eyelids flutter, confused why his cock is so hard inside you when Carmen has caught you. Why it still feels so good when he’s been caught.

"She's seen-"

"Let her watch," you say, mouth on his neck sucking sweet little love bites into his throat.

“We need to stop.”

Frankie whimpers as you smile, pressing a long kiss to his damp mouth. Then you're lips graze his ear.  "Let her watch Daddy fill up his babygirl with cum."

Frankie lets out a desperate moan, his hips jerking upwards, hands smoothing over the globe of your ass.

"You need Daddy's cock to come."

“Yes,” you breathe, pressing your forehead to his as he continues fucking you. “Yes, I do.”

And suddenly despite everything, Carmen feels like she's interrupted something. Like she's the one who is in the wrong and not her husband fucking the babysitter. It mutes her, leaves her frozen and staring as Frankie pulls you harder down into his lap. 

Frankie's face is pink, his mouth parted, your body still covered in his spend as you start to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Don't have to be quiet," you whisper against Frankie's sweaty cheek. "Let her know how good this pussy feels, Daddy."

Frankie feels the whimpers escape him when you trace your tongue along the lobe of his ear, whispering how good he feels, how big, how much you want his come. Frankie feels his head tilting back, ragged moans escaping him.

"See how he fucks me?" You call out to Carmen over your shoulder, hips rolling over Frankie's as he holds you. "He fuck you like this? He makes these noises for you, Mrs. Morales?" 

"You two... You two are fucking sick," Carmen yells before she's fled from the room in disgust. 

"I'm sorry," Frankie cries out after her, his eyes sorrowful even as he pistons in and out of your dripping cunt. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't be sorry," you tell him, arching back and fucking yourself on his cock faster and faster. "Don't be sorry, Daddy. Just fuck me hard. Just focus on that."

There is a relief. The knowledge that there's no more lies, no more sneaking around with a pit in his stomach. 

Living happily. That's what they call winning at life. 

But as he thinks of Carmen storming away with tears in her eyes and Luca in her arms, Frankie can't help but think that winning feels a lot like losing. 

"I should go after her," Frankie pants, his cock throbbing inside you.

"No Daddy," you soothe, pulling yourself up so he can hold you while he fucks you. "You stay right here."

He doesn't stop. He can’t. Any choice in the matter is gone the second your cunt clenches around his throbbing cock. How is he still so fucking hard? His hips continue to snap against your ass, pulling you both closer and closer to orgasm.  

“You’re mine,” you growl, milking his cock harshly. “All mine Mr. Morales. And I’m gonna make you a Daddy again.”

Something about how you say that causes a chill to go through Frankie. He narrows his dark eyes on you.

“What?”

Frankie feels his hips slowing as you giggle, breasts bouncing as you ride him, spurring him to continue. His hands are still around your hips, but they loosen.  

“I’m not on the pill,” you tell him with a simper. “And I’m ovulating today.”

It’s as if only now Frankie is seeing the crazed look in your eye, the almost feral way you grin as you ride him, as if you’ve won a coveted prize.

And he realizes for the first time that there is something deeply frightening about you.

Before he can pull from you, he feels your climax hitting you, causing fresh arousal to soak his throbbing cock and bringing him deeper into your cunt. His balls tighten and his thrusts go fast and deep. You cling to him, thighs parting so you can take him further, murmuring that this one will stick, that you’ll be the most perfect wife for him.

It's too late to stop. Too late to throw you off. He's coming, he's coming fucking hard. He empties himself deep into your pussy groaning loudly as you cry out for him to make you a Mommy.

When he’s spent you both rise on rubbery legs, pulling on your clothes. You’re chirping about how he’ll move in with you, how he’s already left quite a few things at your apartment already.

“We’re gonna be so happy Frankie,” you say, throwing your arms around him and kissing him soundly.  “You’re the best Daddy and I’m gonna be the most amazing Mommy.”

He holds you loosely, his entire being still in a state of shock, his eyes drawn to his stunned reflection in the mirror. He looks at you serenely tucked against him and he sees his own dark eyes slowly filling with tears.

I know. I'm sick.

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie friday #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #dark story

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

for your spotify wrapped:

69 baby!

Hottest wettest nastiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

Warnings: Reader is a peeping tom/listening to people having sex, noncon (Frankie and his date don't know Reader is there), creepy/stalking behaviour, getting off to people (unknowing) having sex, Reader is a creep, Frankie is a bit of a sleaze, dirty talk, degrading talk, underwear stealing (not the way you'd expect) let me know if I missed anything. This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not interact. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. 

For my Spotify Wrapped Ask Game 69: Radiohead - Creep. I wish I was special, but I'm a creep.

You shouldn’t be here.

The sounds of Frankie and the girl he brought home an hour ago echo off the walls of his bedroom and through the door you’re pressed against. Jealousy twists in your gut like a knife.

You have no right to be mad, you’re not together anymore. He dumped you.

You scold yourself as you sit with your back to the ensuite door. The cold floor biting into the flesh of your ass as you try and figure out what the fuck to do.

“Fuck yeah Frankie, your tongue feels so fucking good!” Frankie’s date cries out and you have to stifle an embittered moan as you remember exactly how good Frankie is at giving head.

You feel your thong getting wet at the sounds coming from the room. Frankie’s low groans make you clench around nothing as he devours the pussy on the other side of the wall. You want to touch yourself, to get off to it, but you’re not a creep.

At least I don’t think I am.

You muse silently to yourself as you hear the creak of springs as Frankie and his date shift on the mattress. Sounds you know far too well. They’re etched in your mind as you remember how it feels to be pressed into the navy sheets, Frankie’s thick cock buried inside you as you scream his name.

You hear the tight gasps and whines that he pulls from her as he fills her up. Your fingers dip below your waistband of your lacy panties. The ones you’d worn just in case he caught you tonight. You came by to pick up the last of your things, chancing that Frankie would be in on a Tuesday night, but you had found the apartment woefully empty.

So, you had moped around the apartment as you picked up the paltry amount of your leftover belongings. You were hovering over his underwear drawer when you heard the door unlock. You’d stripped down to your lacy underwear and thrown yourself down on your – his – bed when you heard the woman’s laughter.

So, obviously doing the logical thing, you hid in the bathroom, with no time to throw your clothes back on.

“God you’ve got a tight little cunt baby, look at her, choking my cock so good.”

You slap your free hand over your mouth as your Frankie talks to his date just like he used to with you. Your arousal sours as you realise you clearly weren’t anything special to him in the end. He talks to all of his conquests this way.

You let go of the last shred of shame and roll your fingertips over your clit, sliding them down to your aching hole as you fuck yourself to the sound of Frankie screwing someone else.

Every pant and moan drives you closer to the edge as you use both hands, two fingers stuffed deep inside you with one hand while you rub furious circles over your clit with the other. You’re close as the headboard begins to slam against the wall behind you. You know Frankie’s close too, you can hear it in the way he groans.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” then your name slips from his lips, and you think you imagine it. But it’s too late you’re coming hard around your fingers as you ride through it.

“What the fuck?” the woman’s voice shatters any doubt as you hear a commotion in the next room. The straining of bed springs and the sound of Frankie trying to backpedal are drowned out as your head falls back in a wordless cry. Your orgasm continues to rip through you, like pleasure and pain twisting around your spine as you let out a soft laugh. Your name falling from Frankie’s lips are playing on loop as you clench hard around your own slick fingers.

You hear Frankie storming after his date as she clearly makes to leave. You hear the front door slam followed by silence. You can only guess Frankie followed her out. You wait a minute before leaving the bathroom on shaky legs, dressing quickly before something catches your attention.

A pair of Frankie’s boxers, no doubt the ones he wore tonight, strewn on the floor. Discarded.

You act on impulse and stuff them in your coat pocket before slipping out of the apartment with your meagre box of meaningless crap. You take the back stairs and head to your car. Your legs are still a little wobbly and you grin to yourself at the way your slick sticks to your thighs.

You slump down in the driver’s seat just as you get a notification on your phone.

A Text.  

Frankie: U up?

I love you @beefrobeefcal

#dark fic #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #drabble #angst #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales #tw stalking #tw peeping #tw noncon #tw noncon listening to sex #reader is a creep #dark smut #non con #pedro pascal character fanfic

[romana-after-dark]

Would you write a dark! Frankie Morales x Reader fic? I can’t find any fics like that.

Hi! I might, if I get an idea

I have an idea for a dark!nathan Bateman, and a Dark! Blue Jones

I struggle witb dark TF boys bc I’m so used to writing them for my LaL universe on my main, it’s so hard to picture him dark, but if you have any ideas I’m open to it!

#romana answers asks #dark!fic #frankie morales #dark!frankie morales

[frannyzooey]

Daddy Marcus or Joel father reveal for Father’s Day???? 😏

I wish! I can tell you that I plan to work on The Dinner tonight though, so hopefully it'll be posted soon ❤

I can also tell you that:

Weeknights Frankie is currently asleep, his long sun kissed limbs stretched out on the couch with his arms loosely cradling your son. Also fast asleep, the baby's cheek is squished against the soft cotton that covers Frankie's firm, broad chest and you quick kneel and snap a picture of their relaxed, near identical faces before going back to quietly unloading the cooler that you took with you to the beach that afternoon.

Lucia's card is open on the table, next to the coffee mug that you helped her pick out at the store earlier that week and as you slip the ice packs back in the freezer and toss out the remnants of sandy sandwiches, you think about your gift that you gave him earlier that morning in the shower while the kids were still asleep.

Heat pooling between your thighs at the memory of his husky, sleep rough groan in the steam of the shower, you can still feel the thick heft of him resting on your tongue, and peeking back at the dark crown of his curls, you make a mental note to give him another gift later that night.

In the Dark Ezra -- he used to have conflicted feelings about Father's Day. Never really felt deserving of it, uncomfortable at the sort of awkward mention of the holiday the week before by Cee's friends parents, since they all knew he wasn't really her father but also sort of was?

The first Father's Day he had Cee, they visited Damon's grave; dark, close cropped hair in the sunlight next to shining white blonde. He could tell she was torn between visiting in the name of duty while also still nursing a sort of grief for the man whose name was on the headstone, and he felt the same. Their heads cocked to the side at the same time from behind, and they were each were lost in their own thoughts for a moment: sadness, anger, long ago memories.

Quiet when they left, Ezra took her by the bookstore on the way home and let her pick out a fancy, overpriced journal - the kind she loved, because even at eight she had begun to fill them with stories. They were creative and wild, an outlet for her imagination and inner thoughts and her bedside table was stacked with them. She added that one to the collection later that night after she scrawled her words into it, the solemn feeling that hung over her like a cloud dissipating as she wrote with the sounds of Ezra in the kitchen down the hall and eventually he had called her to dinner, which ended up being over buttered popcorn on the couch with a movie.

They grew into the holiday together and today, she openly celebrated him in their favorite way to spend time together: browsing record stores, eating his favorite foods and going to the museum. They always end the holiday the same and today was no exception -- over buttered popcorn and a cheesy movie, and when she gave him her present (something he insists every time be priced under $10 or else) he also gave her his: an overpriced, fancy journal.

#frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #weeknights drabble #in the dark drabble

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: Is this how it ends? 6

Fic info & warnings

Read on A03

Words: 5,218

A03

Rhea’s eyes fixed on the window as the sun rose on the horizon, golden rays of light cast across the sky like brushstrokes accompanied by oranges and blues.

The heaviness of a long night was now absent from the sky, but no matter how much sunlight streamed through the room, it still felt like midnight.

Rhea barely slept. She kept reliving the afternoon before, what she could have done differently if she kept her anger in check, and how good it felt, even in the context of the situation, to see Frankie’s face, finally. And, she was also worried about Will, she had to make sure he was okay with her own eyes too.

In order to do that, she’d need to gain some trust with Pope, which she might have ruined yesterday. She didn’t regret it, she was pissed, and sick of his games; at the same time, she needed to find a way to control herself so she could get on his good side.

When they got back to the house yesterday, she was locked away in the room, where she’s been since then. She had a small amount of food and some water delivered around 6pm by a guard, but Pope himself was a no show.

Rhea kicked the covers off then sat on the side of the bed, her eyes moving to the Armoire full of dresses and shoes. Even the actual closet had clothes in it he picked for her.

“Stuck in a fucking dollhouse.” she muttered with a frown.

Even the pajamas she wore were selected by him. Rhea got up and started to pace.

“Fine Pope, you want me to play, I’ll play,” she opened the closet and thumbed through the clothes while going over a plan in her head.

Read on A03

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More vibes of this trio aka Rheas phone

#dark! Pope #santiago pope garcia #Santiago Garcia x ofc #Frankie morales x ofc #Frankie morales #will miller #Benny miller #triple frontier fic