#why the fuck is it always Frankie for me???

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 10

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Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~4.4K

WARNINGS: Triggers for themes of self harm/ suicidal ideation / fearing that someone will self-harm / Mentions of physical spousal abuse and escaping an abusive marriage. Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / language / mentions of past drug use / Minors DNI

A/N: Frankie tries to put himself back together. Frankie tries to figure out why the fuck he's like this. Audrey realizes there is something she's afraid of.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

As always, this is un-beta'd, please do shoot me a message with any typos. Feel free to pop into my inbox if you'd like to chat. We've only got one chapter after this for these two. I hope I do them justice. Here goes nothing.

Francisco spends the next two weeks in hiding.

As much as Benny’s place can be considered hiding. 

Santiago is too close to the thing and Will would have tried to pull it apart, deliberately. Methodically. So he could come up with a way to make it right.

Frankie doesn’t want solutions right now, he just wants to feel like shit.

And Benny knows Catfish fucked up somehow, because the last time Frankie was here was when he got hit with the coke charge that suspended his license. 

He supposes Fish hiding at his place is better than Fish running through an eightball. 

But Frankie’s first night here is the worst night Benny’s had since then.

The night after Tom died included. 

It wasn’t all on him then. 

He couldn’t hear Frankie’s stuttering sobs in the next room then.

His stomach didn’t churn with the wails that Frankie tries to stifle with pillows when the walls of his heart can’t hold them in any longer then. 

But Benny soon learns that Frankie going silent is far worse. 

And so he hauls himself from bed, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, and quietly makes his way across the hall to the guest bedroom, rapping two knuckles against the guest bedroom door.

“Fish?”

Still, silence. 

“Listen, you ain’t gotta tell me what’s up. Not if you don’t want to. I just. I just gotta know that you’re okay, buddy."

“I don’t have fucking coke if that’s what you’re asking.” Frankie’s voice is hoarse. Muffled where he’s face-down in a wet patch on the pillow.

And Benny already knows because Benny checked his bags while Catfish was in the shower and nabbed Frankie’s keys and pocket knife to tuck into his own bedside table. 

But still.

“I just need to know—” Benny starts. Thinks better of it. Decides he couldn’t live with any more regret. Continues softly. 

“—that you’re not going to hurt yourself, Fish.”

“It’s fuckin’ fine, Benny,” Fish’s voice is only muffled by the door now. 

Benny stares at the ceiling. 

“Okay,” he rolls off his tongue. “Can you do something for me though?” He bends to sit on the floor with his back against the doorframe. 

“The fuck is it Ben?”

“Can we just—do a few breaths?”

And Fish doesn’t say “no” because Fish doesn’t say anything.

“I’m gonna put my hands on my stomach,” Benny reframes, “and breathe in through my nose. All the way in until I move my hands.” There’s a pause as he does. “And I’m gonna let it out and do it again.”

He repeats this cycle. A bit less instruction each time, but following through himself. Palms rising and falling over the worn jersey of his t-shirt. 

He repeats the cycle. 

Of forcing Frankie to breathe. 

Of ticking his nervous system cool.

Until he hears a mumbled, “thanks, Benny,” from the other side of the door. 

“Listen man,” Benny starts softly.

“I love you, okay?”

“Love you too, man.”

And he feels a bit better. 

But Ben Miller still doesn’t sleep that first night.

Fish hangs around the house like a phantom for the next three days. Benny hears the creak of floorboards in the guest room. The latching of the bathroom door. The tv click through channels. 

Hears Netflix pause when it asks if Frankie’s still watching. 

He is. 

Baking shows from the sound of it. 

Benny tries the whole first day to offer him coffee and breakfast. Lunch and Pepsi, because maybe Coke would have been insensitive. Dinner and a beer. 

“‘M not hungry.”

“Frankie, you gotta at least drink some water.”

“Got some from the sink.”

So Benny takes to leaving snacks in the guest bathroom.

He breathes a little easier when some of them start to disappear. 

And he occasionally hears Frankie sniffling. And then hears deliberate breaths. 

He’s grateful to have given Frankie that at least. 

The poltergeist’s activity spreads on day five when Benny hears footsteps on the stairs.

And he has to fight a wince when finally the man appears. 

Frankie looks like a husk. 

Puffy eyes, hair matted down to his head. Overgrown, scraggly beard that's greying on sallow cheeks. 

And Benny just pulls two beers from the fridge, cracks them open on a magnet, and klinks the base of his against Frankie’s.

“Wanna watch the game?” 

“Sure,” Frankie mumbles.

And Benny breathes a little easier.

He clocks Frankie on the knee with his knuckles after about half an hour of silence, “hey, you eat today, man?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Go take a shower. Gonna order pizza. Sausage is good, right?”

“Not hungry.”

“I’ll get goat cheese on it.”

And Frankie sits for a beat.

“Fine.” 

He has a bit more color in his cheeks when he returns to the kitchen.

“Hey, you ever try meditation?” Benny asks after a bit through a mouthful of pizza. 

“No, I’ve never fucking tried meditation, Benny.”

“I can show you, if you want.”

“Not right now.”

“No,” Benny huffs through a bite of crust, “not right now. I’m gonna get you a journal too.”

And Frankie starts to protest, but he knows Benny is trying to offer him the tools that he himself uses to get him through.

There’s a Moleskin and a pen in the bathroom when Frankie ventures out in the morning. 

And like summer sun after the spring equinox, Frankie emerges from his cave earlier and earlier each day.

“You wanna talk about it?” Benny asks one night from where he’s slumped down on the couch, beer in hand, basketball game on tv. 

“Nah.” Fish answers from the other end of the couch, taking a swig from his own bottle.

“‘S about Moose?”

“Yeah,” Frankie works a fingernail between paper and glass, the tack of adhesive catching on his fingerprints.

“She get hurt out there?”

“No,” Frankie answers.

After a minute.

“I hurt her.”

“You cheat on her?”

“Wha–no. No. It’s not like that. I didn’t cheat on her.”

“Good, you’d…” And Benny chokes off his first reaction.

“’S fine, you can say it.”

“Nah.”

“I’d be a fuckin’ idiot. I already am. I’m aware,” Frankie scrubs a hand down his face. “I just. I said things I ain’t proud of.”

“So go fix it.”

And Frankie lets out an astonished huff at how simple the world is to Benny sometimes.

“You in a headspace for me to tell you somethin’?”

“Say what you gotta say, Benny.”

“Listen, Fish. You gotta just face it. And don’t just say 'I’m sorry' because girls hate that shit. Say what you’re sorry for and why you were a fuckin’ idiot for sayin’ it and that it’ll never happen again. And then don’t fuckin’ do it again. Not if you wanna keep her. Because that girl? She ain’t gonna put up with your shit.”

“She left.”

“She left because you probably pushed her away, Catfish.” Benny shifts on the couch to place his beer bottle on the coffee table, elbows resting on his knees before he finally looks over at Frankie.

“Look, I dunno what you said, but she’s got thick fuckin’ skin. Moose will take a lot of shit right on the chin and fling it back at you. So whatever it was, you gotta figure out why you said it. You gotta do that work on yourself, man. And don’t yank her chain, either. She ain’t gonna give you third and fourth chances.”

“You read that shit in a book somewhere, or you just got a lot of experience apologizing, Benny?”

“I do.”

Frankie scoffs.

And he wants to jump right up off of this couch, march up the stairs and slam the bedroom door behind him. But he knows what that would do to Benny. 

So he waits until the game is over.

Excuses himself with a “goodnight” and a “thanks for the beer.” 

He finally cracks open the journal Benny bought, and on the first page he scrawls:

Why the fuck am I like this?

The hardest part, Frankie thinks, is that his neural pathways are still wired to her presence. 

Any second she’ll step through the doorway.

Wild black curls and a soft smile. 

A matter of moments before she’ll press her soft weight to his back and her lips to that spot just behind his ear with a soft hum.

Lithe warm body to cover his own.

A pretty little thing to be used when the need strikes and then…

His own words ring in his ears. Crumble the fantasy into powder.

The dreams don’t help either.

The ones of that night in her apartment. 

The way things could have gone.

Her hands braced against the wide expanse of his chest as she chases the high that will make her forget.

Both of them move to fit around his neck.

And she comes with his full name on her lips.

And he follows her with sparks bursting in the black at the edges of his vision.

Little death has green eyes.

Little death that slips through his fingers each time he palms his cock in search of relief.

Frankie finds the strength to face Santiago once he’s back at his own place.

Strength or loneliness.

He’s not actually sure on that one. 

But he swipes a hand down his face after he shifts his truck into park in the driveway. He rubs it around to the back of his neck, fingers working at a knot there.

He's here.

Might as well.

Dinner passes without incident. Santi's fresh off the plane from Guatemala. And the hesitancy with which he discloses it tips Frankie off.

"How is she?"

Santiago angles hard dark eyes in his direction. And he wants to tell Frankie that she's distracted. That her gaze is constantly weighted with something that all of this dredged up. She's functional now but she's running on luck. Audrey can't afford to run on luck.

She's not well. But that's not Santiago's to confess.

“Frankie. What happened?” Comes out instead.

“I flipped.”

That’s all he needs to say for Pope to know how bad it is.

“What did you say, Francisco?”

“I…I was jealous seeing her there," he rubs at his lips with a finger. "With that man. And then I couldn't stop myself from thinking about everyone else. I said crude things.”

“We say crude things to each other all the time, that wasn’t it. What did you say, Frankie.”

“I talked about other men using her,” he swallows hard. “I…I called her a pretty little plaything to be used when the need strikes and then…”

“Discarded?” Santiago finishes, eyebrows in his hairline. 

“I didn’t," Frankie looks down at his lap. "Didn’t say that. Didn’t get that far.”

Santi runs his palm down his face and across his chin and springs from his seat. “Oh. Well then. What were you going to say? What did you intend to say when the first half of that sentence left your fuckin’ mouth. Huh? What was it, Francisco?”

“I wasn’t myself, Pope…I…”

“And you put your hands on her. Again you put your hands on her, Francisco.” And some dark part of Frankie’s brain thinks that where Pope took his side the first time, now he takes hers.

He should be taking hers.

“I saw the bruises.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, apologize to HER.”

Gestured broadly in the direction of Washington DC.

“I did. I did that night,” his voice is a low rasp, “but I…I was a mess.”

“What did you tell her? I’m sorry with big fuckin’ tears in your eyes?”

“Yeah.” And the big fuckin’ tears are back. 

“You told her she was disposable, Francisco. I don’t care if the word didn’t come out of your mouth. That’s what you said. A body. Because you were thinking with what, your dick? You told her she’s unwanted. Unloved, Francisco.” 

And something in the way he says it makes Frankie think that he knows more than he lets on.

“The crocodile tears? That shit’s not enough. How many times has she grounded you? Pulled you out of one of your fuckin’ moods without asking what put you there in the first place? How many smiles has she put on your face, huh? She brought the fuckin’ light back into your eyes, hermano. I see it when you’re with her. How many times has she made you fucking feel something again, Francisco?”

“She fuckin’ sees you. Every. Fucking. Part. Of you," Santiago stabs two fingers of one hand into the palm of the other with every word.

“And you know what?” He points at Frankie now.

“She loves you anyway.”

“She doesn’t love me.”

“You know she sent your daughter a birthday present from you because she knew that you were gonna forget? Yeah. Your daughter’s birthday was a week ago, Francisco.”

Santiago’s kitchen is spinning.

"I should go," Frankie starts, wincing at the way his chair scrapes across linoleum when he stands.

“But you told her she’s a thing that you wouldn’t keep.” And he definitely didn’t tell Pope that.

“I think we both know that’s a lie, Francisco. But only one of us is willing to admit it.”

“And you know what? You shouldn’t. You don’t fuckin’ deserve her.”

“And it’s your own fuckin’ fault. I can’t help you out of that one.”

But Santiago knows how hard he just bit.

And the part of him that loves Frankie.

This wrecked shell of a man.

The part of him that doesn’t want to get a call in the morning about an overdose tonight.

Now tries to lick wounds.

He wraps Frankie in a hug.

And Frankie hugs him back with closed fists, heaving sobs into Santiago’s shoulder.

“I love you, man,” Santiago murmurs. “I don’t wanna see you throw away one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. The best thing since your little girl.”

“I don’t know what to do. Without her.”

And Santiago’s viscera twist with the pain in Frankie’s voice.

“We’ll figure it out,” he moves back a fraction, hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Audrey tosses her keys, phone, and a stack of mail on her kitchen island, toeing off her sneakers as she piles her curls at the crown of her head and secures them with the tie on her wrist.

She washes her face and slips into the bedroom, tossing her clothes and bra onto the leather butterfly chair in the corner, swapping linen for the same tired t-shirt she's worn for the past two weeks.

It's one of Frankie's. Found at the bottom of a duffle that never got unpacked in the aftermath. Marled grey cotton that falls halfway down her thighs with a faded Corona Extra logo over her heart.

She idly pulls the collar up over her nose and holds it there as she sifts through the pile of mail.

An L.L. Bean catalogue.

An invitation to her cousin's baby shower.

A padded manila envelope.

From F. Morales.

She tears it open and pulls out a burgundy leather notebook with a yellow post-it stuck to the front.

I’m leaving this with you, because it feels fitting for you to have it. An exercise in remembrance. If you read nothing else. Please just read the last page.  x F

But Audrey’s brain.

The one that’s kept her alive after over 20 years on the razor’s edge of survival. 

Has already identified the worst possible contingency. 

And she frantically gropes for her phone with panic squeezing her chest.

Santiago answers not two seconds later.

“Yo,” he starts.

“Santiago, don’t say a single fucking word that's not an answer to what I ask you right now. Do you know where Francisco is?”

“Yeah, he’s sitting right across from me. All good.”

Fuck.

FUCK.

Her forehead falls into her palm as she heaves a sigh.

“Okay.”

But it comes out very wrong.

Cracked and choked. High-pitched on the last syllable.  

"Okay," she repeats as her legs begin to falter. "Thank you. Thanks, Santi."

And Santiago hears the tremor in her voice.

The raw fracture as she sinks to the floor. Back braced against the cabinets. 

Santiago gets up from the bar table, feeling Frankie’s eyes on him and steps out into a cloud of smoke on the patio.

“Hey, hey, hey, Aud. He’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“He sent—sent me this book and this note and FUCK."

She's hyperventilating now. Now that she's past immediate danger.

Now that the feeling catches up to her.

The fear.

“The…the way he worded this, it. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry for bothering…”

“Hey, Aud no no no. What did he send?”

“A notebook. A note that says I’m leaving this with you.”

“He’s not there, Aud. He’s okay. He’s okay, I promise. He’s not in that space. Benny and Will are here. We’ve got him.”

And he hears the sharp gasp of breath through her constricted throat. The staccato of her letting it out on a sob between beats of her racing heart where everything she’s tamped down rushes out of a crack in the earth.

“He’s clean. He’s not, in that headspace. Not near that point, Audrey,” Santi coos, his own throat tightening now. “He’s okay.” 

The Operative spoke first.

The Woman is speaking now. 

“How.”

And she means how do you know.

How the fuck can you be so sure. 

“We’ve,” Santi clears his throat, “we’ve been through this with Frankie before. Twice. He’s not there.”

“Santi.”

And the tremor in her voice hits him like the first time he saw his dad cry.

“Take care of him. Please. Please take care of him.” 

“Please.”

In the softest voice he's ever heard Audrey use.

And it’s the simplest plea delivered to him as though she were tendering her still-beating heart. 

“I will, Aud. You have my word, I will.”

Santiago hears her let out a broken sigh that’s muffled by a hand over her mouth.

“Thank you, Santi.”

“He’s gonna be okay, Aud.”

The line goes dead.

And Audrey weeps on her kitchen floor.

Until she’s wrung moisture from the marrow of her bones.

She reaches up to grab the little burgundy notebook, thumbing through to the last page.

A date range, a week and a half from today.

And an address in Jamaica.

An address that she knows.

A place where her future split off a new branch. The limb that she’s curled on now.

And she doesn’t know if she has it in her to go there again.

But not knowing what more to do, she flips to a random page.

Had a good day today. Made it down to the gym with Benny and Will. Think I smashed my hands up a bit, but it still felt good after. 

It's a journal.

And she idly realizes she's never really seen Frankie's handwriting before. Composed of tightly wound capitals in places that languidly flow together at the same time.

It suits him.

Another entry.

Saw an old Chevy for sale today and thought about buying it and fixing it up. Part of me wants to. But I don’t think I can right now.

And she flips all the way back to the very beginning. 

Why the fuck am I like this?

The journal spans the nearly three months that they've been apart.

Therapist asked me this afternoon if I’ve talked to her. Told him I haven’t tried and he asked why. I don’t think she’d want to talk to me. But he said that’s a decision I’m making for her. Guess that’s right. Asked what I’d say if she did pick up the phone. I don’t actually know. He said would you try to convince her to come back. And I don’t think I would. Not because I don’t want her back, I want that more than anything in the world. I want a future with her in it.  But I don’t think it’s right to try to convince her. 

He has “convince” underlined twice.

I want to be better. I need to be better first. What’s that shit they say about if your flower bed sucks. You don’t fix the flowers, you fix the soil. You make it a good place for them. I’m not a good place for her right now. But I want to be. I already fucked one good thing up because I wasn’t. I can’t just keep doing the same shit. Not just for her, for Luci to. She deserves a good dad. Audrey deserves a good man. Trying to convince her wouldn’t actually change anything. I guess that’s good to remind myself of.

Chevy’s still there. Talked to the owner, said he’d knock $500 off it for a vet. I’d still give him full asking. Still don’t know if I’m ready. But I hope I’m getting there.

Been thinking about mom and dad a lot lately. That last fight they had before the divorce. How mom just looked so defeated. How she looked at us with so much love. Even after what dad did. Even though her whole world was breaking. Even though we’re half him. How she just told us to get our favorite toy and tucked us into the back of her car with our blankets and never looked back. I remember holding Mr. Bear so tight that night.  I don’t remember ever seeing the bruises. But they had to have been there.  I think I’m dad. The last thing I wanna be is dad. 

Audrey stands briefly, fingers closing around the nearest bottle of wine and the stem of a glass before she returns to the floor and Frankie's notebook.

I keep thinking about that question, what would I say if she picked up the phone. All I can come up with is I’m sorry and I love you. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough. 

Had a dream about Aud last night. We were sitting on a patio watching a storm roll in. It was like I could feel her right there. Today was hard.

She flattens her hand to her heart at that one.

Lucia said today she wants a puppy for Christmas. Her mom definitely doesn’t want a dog in the house. I think a cat’s better since she’s still so young. Tried floating that idea, didn’t fly. Wish I lived closer so she could have a cat at dad’s house. I’d worry about being away so often. Probably on Davis’ shit list right now though so maybe that doesn’t matter. Hadn’t thought about that until now. The last two years doing this set us up pretty well. College and a car for Luci aren’t an issue anymore. Haven’t felt that weight off until now. Feels kind of hollow.

Bought the Chevy. And Santi thinks he’s making progress. Maybe things are starting to look up. Still scares the shit out of me though. Dunno what I’m in for. 

I used to wipe the tears from Mamá's cheeks when she tucked me into bed. What the fuck am I now. This isn’t who I am. It’s who I was taught to be. It’s what I was shown. It’s wrong.  It isn’t love. It’s fear.

Talked to the therapist about dad today. About how I think he always resented me for being more like mom. For not liking the things he did. How he would yell at me for being soft. And useless. I still remember that. Dug that in every time he could. He hated when I cried. Hated that I would spend hours playing with Mr. Bear. Hated that I liked to read. I think some part of me still believes him. That I'm not enough. That I never will be. I'll never be anything. And I fear it sometimes. Why would she want a useless fuck-up like me.

"You're not," Audrey whispers, running her fingers over the page like somehow it will carry her message to him.

I think he was afraid of irrelevance, at the end of the day. I wasn’t interested in anything he knew. Anything he could teach me. Think it made him lash out. And Mamá still got the divorce. Made him fuckin irrelevant anyway.  I think he got one fuckin awful lesson in that I never asked for. Love isn’t lashing out. It isn’t screaming or yelling. It isn’t won with a fist. But I think it fucked me up, seeing only that. I think I learned that from him. I look like him. But I’m not him.

Tears slip down her cheeks as she presses on.

Leaving for Oklahoma tomorrow. Santi’s coming with. Says we’ll have some fun while we’re out there. Part of me is looking forward to it. The other part of me doesn’t know if I’m ready. It’ll either move me forward or set me back. No way of knowing but to try. Because I can't stay here. I can't live like this.

The entries go silent for a week.

Just got back. Needed that time away. Think it helped clear the doubt. Feel better than I have in weeks. It was the right choice. Oklahoma is pretty in the summer. 

And a zing of jealousy for whatever is in Oklahoma shoots through her. 

As if she doesn’t have something of her own there. As if that’s not the first place she ran to. 

I wonder if I should give this to her. If it might be able to say everything that I can’t seem to. Because I know in the moment, if ever there is one, I’m gonna fuck up. I’m gonna look into her eyes and forget everything I want to say. “I’m sorry, I love you” is all I’m gonna have. And it isn’t enough. 

“I love you too, Frankie.” She whispers into her kitchen.

She thumbs the long tails of his “y”s. Lazy “r”s that always bleed into the next letter. 

But it’s the notion that his hands touched these pages. 

Formed these words.

Shed salt upon ink in places.

The way she holds some essence of him in her hands.

The way all she wants is to hold him again.

It’s two hours and three quarters of the bottle of wine gone when she makes her way through, again flipping to the last page. 

Her knees crack as she stands, grabbing her packet of Parliaments and lighting one off a gas burner. Three long draws before she sits back on the floor between her wine and Frankie's journal.

Fingertips reach for the glass of her phone as she opens her messages and taps on the “FM” bubble right at the top of the page.

I’ll be there.

Read 1:36 am.

Three dots appear on the screen.

I can’t wait to see you, Aud. I miss you.

And she doesn’t respond right away.

She can’t see through the tears.

I miss you too, Frankie. 

I miss you so much.

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#tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: physical abuse #tw: abusive marriage #frankie morales #santiago garcia #ben miller #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the margay

[tricoufamily]

i was gonna show you all of his outfits then i remembered he has the most boring sense of fashion in the world

#and if i showed you all his outfits i'd have to invent some lore reason why for he's always half naked or in something super tight 😔 #you see he uhhhh it's symbolism for uhhh well you see uhhhh #he's not my type at all i don't know why he's bewitched me #very casually and lightly writing his character so i think yeah as i said rich dad who's had a lot of wives #his mother was a supermodel he's the only kid he had with her and his youngest child he has older half siblings #frankie was doing runway modelling in his early and mid 20s (he's 27) but he quits to join his dad's business #he's just kinda fucked around his whole life he's trying to be more serious. i guess #ts4 #ts4 edit #the sims 4 #frankie

[pcktknife]

changing clawdeens pet from a cat to a dog was racially motivated

#why we always gotta have dogs hm 🤨? #slash jay #i do miss crescent tho i wouldve liked to see him in g3s cutesy pet style #ive been thinking abt getting clawdeen and restyling her cause it makes me mad that i have dracs g3 and original #and clawdeens original and skullector but not her g3 to go w drac #im sad abt not have dracs skullector too but thats never happenin okay #also i have frankie so all im missing is her #anyways #draculauras is the only pet i think that hasnt really changed which is so fucking funny knowing that count fabulous is just a old ass dude #everyone got new or different little guys and drac still got this dusty ass man chillin w her #kae.txt

[heartsburst]

WHY MUST I ALWAYS GET INTO THE SADDEST FUCKING SHIPS WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF

#frankie yells #like fucking. sure any ship can be made sad if you try harder enough but also. fucking. why must it always be tragic little gays #im not complaining but also i keep fucking doing this to myself man why do i keep making myself sad over fictional gays 😭😭 #like do i just only interact with the shit that makes me sad??? do i only really get engaged with sad fics etc. for them???? #is this a me problem???? #like. um. griddlehark. destiel. hannigram (sort of). ash/eiji. satosugu. aziracrow. zukka (in certain directions). shory. aaronneil. #most of my ao3 bookmarks are me sobbing my eyes out... #OH WAIT ALSO FUCKING. REDDIE 😭😭😭😭😭 I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOME BUT OMG REDDIEEEE #me like what if none of the mfs had a happy ending together? what then? #like babygirl are you okay??? why do you always want to be so sad?? #oh god also fucking [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]... both of which i had to stop reading fics for bc i was making myself too sad #like genuinely there is a certain very long fic that i had to put down bc i was making myself depressed #OHMYGOD I FORGOT WANGXIAN AND BINGQIU.... honestly mdzs and svsss in general... kicking my feet 1 moment and sobbing the next #there are sooo many ships in both of those that make me so very sad... too many to remember or list atm tbh #i should go to bed 💀 lmao #it's too late for this nonsense ans i shouldn't have been watching destiel and hannigram compilations in the first place... of course im #just making myself sad...

[bizarre-paradox]

when i see merch stuff where it’s One Piece Guys and it’s like luffy! zoro! sanji! ………. law?? i’m like USOPP WHAT ABOUT USOPP. GRAHHHHHHH

#ik they’re just. probably more popular (cries) but why the fuck is it like law and shanks and mihawk BEFORE you think to add OTHER STRAWHATS #BREAKING MY HEART💔💔💔💔U KILLED THEM. U KILLED FRANKY AND USOPP (AND BROOK AND JIMBEI) #and forget them adding the girls lol these type of merch things r always obviously pointed to a . Specific Type of Fan. #the type who doesn’t gaf abt the women characters 😭😭😭 #if you get what i mean #not to be overly judgy it just hurts my heart when i see usopp CONSTANTLY excluded #cause he’s not a bishie boy to these people #HES BEAUTIFUL TO ME GRAHHHHHH (TEARS OUT HAIR) #atp this acc is for posting usopp & yume nikki stuff lol #one piece

[dyklopces]

blegh.

#frankie fucks about #vent #always fun putting the pieces of where an insecurity came from to one of my fucking box full of traumas #this is to say. when i was a kid i was very lonely and very isolated and very disconnected from my own emotions. i knew people didnt like #me or talking to me cuz they made it really obvious. and like 4 times from elementary-middle school older kids would see that and like. #get really enthusiastic about liking me . but not in a good or authentic way at all. like i guess to nt people the way i talk and think #and act is like. funny. so these kids would assume i was joking and other people didnt get my sense of humor or smth. so for like a couple #days to a week they would treat me like a novelty. like a fun size toy that yips on command. because i was excited ! people didnt #tend to like me that much especially when i was younger so when i felt like people did i would be like oh cool! i can be completely myself #and they laugh but thats still liking me right? so i would over preform my own natural personality because it made people laugh and that #was the only way i felt like i had a chance at companionship. so like this would work for a few days. and then the novelty wears off. #and they realised Why my peers rejected me and decided they were right all along. and then theyd just never talk to me again. #anyway. all of this to say i almost never think people sincerely like me. im always convinced theres a time limit before it becomes less #funny and more grating. #whatever yaknow. like thats just life i guess

[anachronistic-falsehood]

ik i've been in my trigun era but i hope u know that if monster high g3 brings bakc jackson jekyll, holt hyde, robecca steam, and venus mcflytrap, i am going to be UNBEARABLE about it

#whiskey yelling into the void #i had SUCH a huge crush on holt as a kid omg. i loved him so so so much and ofc jackson comes as a package deal obvi #jackson was never like my FAV fav but he's a nerd and i also really liked him in the books so if he and holt r back i'm gonna go feral #and i just love robecca's design so much AGHHHH!! STEAMPUNK VIBES MY BELOVED <3 #AND VENUS!! fucking. punk environmentalist lesbian. i always loved her but i could never figure out why until like way after mh g1 ended #so seeing venus again will make me explode i think. anyway did anyone see g3 cleo/frankie #centuries old mummy afraid of the dark and nonbinary simulacrum made of dead people <3 relationship goals

[hauntingblue]

ONIGASHIMA TIME!!!!

#zoro smelling alcohol on onigashima from the ship abdjahsh #new adbreak animations... look kinda rushed... but zoro stopping snajis bullshit akdhaka FA- #there are two idiots who will enter thru the front door. we will use them as bait and we thoughtful people will go round the back #amazing plan law. so true also. also kinemon lmao #is jinbe drifting the boat... king..... #zoro with an all black fit.... red band for luffy i know it... i know... #idk what sanji has going on or what he thought he was doing with that battle fit but it slaps... he looks like he is wearing eyeliner too.. #i knew he is having a fit off with zoro.... their finest galas... #talking tag #watching one piece #episode 981 #GOD IM SP FUCKING CLOSE TO 1000. MIGHT MAKE IT IN LIKE THREE DAYS TOPS. I AM SO SCARED #red hawk i love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️ HAH........ #that was such a slay luffy.... as always..... law is gonna get a stroke but still #omg franky is not wearing a tong..... he is on that wano covering style..... hell yes #zoro ans sanji are together again fighting together having a fit off and having beef again.... love to see it #OMG IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS??? #omg live show??? queen ft scratchmen apoo qlshakwn the animation is so good. this exposition about the rivals is so good. what a banger. #luffy backlit and smiling.... god is that what i see..... #that was so beautiful... why am i tearing up..... jinbe and luffy always get me. #what a fucking episode. BANGER #episode 982 #are all of kid's crew smilers????? nvm they juat do it to humour killer #the music when they enter onigashima 😧😧😧 #luffy complimenting kid on his fit and he just blushes akdhakal #they have so many outfit changes lmaoo why does brook look the same.... how does zoro keep the faja akdhaksjaj #you know when i first saw screenshots of these fits i thought they would appear on punk hazard because of obvious connotative reasons.... #episode 983 #luffy telling kid to stick to the plan ajskahaka zoro..... jinbe is gonna get a stroke #zoro denying a drink to go search for luffy... wow......

[slut-for-evans-stan]

Mission Accomplished

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Summary: Ben and you can't stay in the same room without wanting to rip each other's hearts out. The Boys, tired of dealing with you, decide to take matters into their own hands by tricking you two into completing your most crucial mission yet— resolving your problems. One thing leads to another and you discover that there was an easier, much more enjoyable method to resolve everything between you all along. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (18+), Enemies to Lovers, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, Dirty talk, oral (m+f rec), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), hate fucking!? (kind of), rough sex, swearing, choking, squirting, creampie.

a/n: this is my very first time writing smut. Not proofread, please pardon me for errors if any! I tried my best :')

I'd really appreciate if you could like, comment and/or reblog, it'll make me really happy <3

Being a Supe with extraordinary powers didn't mean you were ready to exploit people for clout, with how things were at Vought. So when Starlight and Hughie learnt that you declined Ashley's offer to have you join the Seven, they convinced you to join hands with The Boys to ensure that the arrogant liars claiming to be "Saviours of the World" got what they deserved. Despite feeling a bit unwelcome at first due to Butcher's distant behaviour, you quickly settled in and felt accepted, and connected to everyone in the team, everyone except the newest member to join forces with you all to help in taking down Homelander and others; Soldier Boy.

In the dimly lit room, stood Soldier Boy in his silk robe, a cigarette in one hand, one leg on the bed, the other supporting his weight on the floor; his back facing the door. Upon hearing a soft knock, he turned around with a smug grin on his face. He began,

"Well, hello there gorgeous! You've sure kept me waiting long enough for someone who made eager promises to choke on my dick."

Unamused, and somewhat disgusted by his comment, you shot him a stern look,

"I'm not here for your entertainment, I need to run a few tests on you. So it'll be nice if you'll please spare a few minutes before you run off to get your dick wet. We need to be sure that you're not going to explode and kill us all."

Soldier Boy's smirk echoed through his room as he eyed you with an amazed expression. Undeterred, he sauntered over to you, leaning in and mistaking your seriousness for a mere challenge.

"Sure. Whatever it is, let's get it over with. Maybe after this, you and I could-"

You cut him off with an icy glare

"Save the charm for someone who cares. I don't have time for this bullshit, we've a mission coming up."

From your very first meeting that started with a misunderstanding, it would've been an understatement to say that Soldier Boy annoyed every living cell in your body. You were both constantly arguing and bickering about something or the other, always at each other's throats.

Soldier Boy's deep, intimidating voice echoed through the room, your comment having hit a nerve.

"You know what, you're insufferable."

"At least I'm not stuck up." he shot back.

What should've been a meeting to discuss the upcoming mission, turned into yet another baseless argument between the two of you. Making your teammates uncomfortable with every passing moment. Hughie, Frankie, Kimiko and others exchanged uneasy glances as the tension thickened. You continued,

"I can't believe I've to be stuck with an unbearable asshole as you. Butcher I think I'm gonna skip this mission. Don't want us to end up in another mess like the last time."

At this point, it seemed like you were both minutes away from strangling each other. Soldier boy chuckled,

"Why, you're so intimidated by a real hero you want to hide away like a pussy?"

Eyebrows raised, you retorted, "Real hero!? More like a reckless liability. I've seen toddlers with better impulse control."

Sensing a storm brewing, Hughie spoke with a shaky voice, attempting to intervene and diffuse the situation. "Can we focus, guys? We have a mission-"

Your gaze never wavered from the supe. "I'll focus when he stops acting like he's better than everyone else. He is not the only one with superpowers here, he might be strong but he doesn't scare or intimidate me in the slightest."

Rolling his eyes, Soldier Boy muttered, "I wouldn't need to if you could follow a plan for once in your life."

Butcher commented shutting you all up "Oi. Enough! No one is backing out. You two should go fuck it out or something, whatever issues you stupid cunts have with each other. Don't need any fuck ups in the mission."

The tension spilled into the supposed battlefield, your bickering a dangerous undertone to the chaos around you. Clashing on missions, your mutual disdain fielding your actions, each vying to outdo the other. Yet beneath the surface, a spark lingered, an undeniable attraction that you both, despised and desired, but neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

On a particularly precarious mission, your incessant bickering almost jeopardized the entire operation.

Amidst the mayhem, you found yourself pinned down by one of the opponents, wounded and unable to use your powers, and Soldier boy reluctantly came to your rescue.

You grunted, "I didn't need your help."

He shot back, "Don't get used to it. I'm saving the mission, not your sorry ass."

Watching the scene unfold from a distance, your teammates exchanged knowing looks. After the mission, they decided they'd have enough, and decided to take matters into their own hands, realising that the unresolved tension between you two threatened not just personal dynamics but the success of missions itself.

On Butcher's suggestion, the team tricked the two of you into thinking there was another mission but instead locking you up in a safe house together,

"Sort this out, or we'll all end up as collateral damage."

warned Hughie before haphazardly shutting the door and leaving, forcing you to confront your issues, facing a choice: either talk and resolve the conflict or risk tearing each other apart. Silence filled the room. However, it was short lived.

Taking a deep breath, you plopped on the sofa across from where he sat and spoke as calmly as you could.

"Great, those little shits tricked us."

Soldier Boy scowled, "This is ridiculous. I don't need couple's therapy, I need a way out of here. I'm gonna beat the shit out of these fucknuts."

This made you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Maybe if you weren't so intolerable, we wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place."

As another argument filled the space, the air in the small living room of the safe house shifted. Soldier Boy's tone somewhat softened, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"You think I enjoy being like this? Constantly on edge, wondering if I'll turn into a goddamn weapon."

You sighed, your defenses momentarily crumbling.

"I didn't sign up for this either, you know. Being a supe's babysitter wasn't in my job description."

As you bickered, underlying desire simmered beneath the surface. Soldier Boy's gaze lingered a moment too long, making a very visible flush rise in your cheeks.

A smug grin playing on his lips, as he said,

"You can't resist me, can you? Admit it, there's something between us, more serious than all this bickering. You know, I think you want me-"

You cut him off, but your voice wavered. "Keep dreaming, I still can't stand you." This remark gave rise to another banter.

"Don't get over yourself. I was only pulling your leg. You're insufferable."

Accusations started flying like daggers, each word cutting deeper than the last. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, making your way back into the living room, catching him intently staring at you. Frustration morphed into a heated exchange of longing glances.

Tension crackled in the air, and just when it seemed the room might implode, his expression shifted.

He got up from the sofa, walking over to you, cornering you till your back hit the wall. He leaned in, his eyes darkening with a growing desire, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"You know what? Maybe you're right. I can't stand you, because everytime I look at you, this is all I want to do."

You arched an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Wait, what?" But before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, making the beer bottle fall from your hands, effectively silencing any protests. You caught hold of the shirt he was wearing, kissing him back with equal fervour, savoring the moment as if it was a dream that would end all too soon. All your pent up anger and frustration showed up as the two of you desperately tore at each other clothes, never once breaking the kiss. A battle of tongues. He only pulled back for a second, with a sly grin on his face, his eyes dark, pupils dilated with glimmers of lust.

"There, no need to argue when we can do this instead. We should've figured this out sooner." Rubbing you over your panties with two of his fingers, he groaned.

"You're such a slut. So wet already and I haven't even touched you. You want to get railed till you can't walk, don't you?"

Before you had a chance to say anything, he reclaimed your lips in a hunger fuelled kiss. The room once filled with tension, now crackled with a different kind of energy. Pieces of both your clothings flew across the room. Soldier boy lifted you up and carried you to the small table in the kitchen and set you down hurriedly. The two of you continued to kiss while he rid you both of the remaining pieces of clothing. He kissed you like a mad man, biting and marking every inch of your skin he could in his desperate need to be close to you. Starting from your neck, moving to your tits, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting it while palming and squeezing the other roughly, then switching and doing the same to the other one. He moved back up to place another rough kiss to your lips, both of you moaning and biting each other's tongues and lips, intoxicated with the feeling of being so close. With an animalistic growl he parted, giving you a look so intense, it could scare the bravest of people.

"When you feel the need to scream, moan my name. Scream it as loud as you can."

With that he roughly nudged your legs apart as wide as they could go and dived right in, eating you out like man starved, licking and sucking your most sensitive parts like it was his last meal. You pulled his hair, legs shaking and trembling with pleasure. His gruff beard giving you a delicious burn, that would heal in no time. He started flicking your clit with his tongue and entered two of his fingers inside you, moving them in and out rapidly. When he added two more fingers, you lost it. Screaming his name and cumming all over his face, your legs wrapped around his head, making it impossible for him to move away.

"Fuck. Ben. I can't-"

you tried pulling away but he didn't stop even then, holding you down with his arms, making you cum two more times before finally deciding to let go. You were dazed in pleasure, but still wanted more. Jumping down the table, and on your knees, you made eye contact with him as you slowly took his long, thick and veiny cock in your hand, stroking him and giving a few kitten licks from the base to the tip and sucking off the beads of precum, moaning at the salty taste, making him groan. You then looked up at him, taking him as far as you could before pulling back again and asking him to fuck your face. He hesitated for a second but his resolve crumbled as soon as you opened your mouth, showing him you were waiting for him. He grabbed your head with both his hands and pushed himself into your mouth, roughly thrusting in and out again and again, moaning your name, cussing like a maniac. You could tell he was close, and then he held your head as close as possible, making you gag a little, his eyes closing, his head thrown back, as ropes of his cum shot down your throat.

In ragged breaths, he said "Be a good little slut and swallow it all."

As you did, you opened your mouth with your tongue out, showing no remnants of his release. He chuckled, pulling you up by your arms, surprising you with a softness in his gaze as he asked

"You sure you want to go further? If you don't, we'll stop right here and pretend this never happened-" you cut him off with an aggressive kiss "Fuck me as hard as you can. I won't break. Take all your frustrations out on me."

With that he smirked and rapidly turned you around, bending your back and shoving your face on the table with his hand, setting it for support right by your head. He entered you with one brutal thrust, making the both of you moan and groan loudly, not giving you a second to adjust as he started ramming his cock into you, hard and deep, his hips moving at an inhuman speed.

"That's it. This is what you wanted right? Now take it. I don't think I'm ever going to let you go after this. You feel so good. Gonna make you my personal little fuck toy. Such a perfect fit."

Hearing all the filth leave his mouth made you clench around him, making him throw his head back in pleasure, never once letting his pace falter.

"Ah you love this. I can tell by the way your tight pussy's choking my dick."

At this point, all rational thoughts had left your brain and all you could do was moan and revel in the pleasure he was giving you. One thing you knew for sure was that he had ruined everyone else for you. After a few moments he moved the hand on your back between your legs to rub your clit and you started screaming in pleasure, feeling yourself flying close to the edge. As soon as Ben realised how close you were, he pulled out and turned you around, lifting you on the table and onto your back, swiftly entering you again.

"I know you're close. I wanna see your face when you cum all over me."

He moved his hand back between your legs to rub your clit in circles, while his other hand moved to your neck, choking you, as he went back to thrusting at his original, rough pace. This new angle somehow making him go deeper than before, hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

"Fuck. I don't think I can last long either."

To that, you finally managed to say

"Cum with me."

which sounded more like a moan than a sentence. You both looked into each other's eyes, moaning, grabbing each other, raking your nails all over his gorgeous, broad shoulders, not breaking the eye contact once. After a particularly hard thrust, you felt a funny sensation, one that you have rarely ever felt, only while pleasing yourself and before you knew, you screamed and started squirting your release, coming undone while Ben kept thrusting into you.

"Oh yes. Fuck. That's so hot baby. Cum all over me. I don't think I'll ever get enough of the look on your face right now. I think I've finally managed to shut you up, fucked your brains out. Fuck I'm cumming."

His thrusts grew frantic, and much harder than before, kissing you roughly, your teeth clashing, and he finally slammed his hips into yours one last time, holding your hips so tight, you were sure you would bruise for atleast a few hours, despite your super healing abilities. Groaning and grunting in his deep voice as thick ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, triggering yet another release out of you, making you squirt even more. He collapsed on top of you, careful that he wasn't crushing you with his weight.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled with each other for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, before he slowly pulled out of you, making you both wince at the sudden loss. As he walked to the living room, "That was it" you thought, a one time rendezvous with Soldier Boy that might have either helped you two or made things worse. He sauntered back in with a towel in hand, towards the sink to wet it, also filling up a glass of water and quietly walking to you, cleaning you up without a word, handing the glass for you to drink. Taking it from him, you looked at him mumbled a soft "thank you", getting down the table, you nudged him to walk out with you, sitting down on the couch and covering yourself with a blanket, while he picked up his surprisingly untorn boxers, putting them on and sitting next to you, making you turn to face him. You both understood you needed to talk about what had just happened.

The shared realisation that the animosity between you two that had led to this impulsively passionate encounter, had somewhere blurred the lines between desire and hate.

Ben began to say "Look, about earlier... I didn't mean half the things I said."

You replied "What? You didn't mean it when you said you want to kiss me and do other filthy things to me everytime you see me?"

Taken aback, with a raised eyebrow and confused express Ben said, "Oh no, no lies there. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."

You cut him off saying "I know, I was just pulling your leg. I've felt the same way about you. Your reputation preceded you and it made me crazy knowing I still wanted you."

He replied, "I think we let our tempers get the best of us." sighing, he continued "I care about you more than I let on."

Which made you sigh in response. "Then why do you never act like it? Making me think of you as a douche who loves berating me?"

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess I feel scared. Scared of how much of a hold you have had on me from the very beginning. It made me feel like a fool at times, I thought the only way I could supress these feelings were by acting like an asshole towards you. I'm really sorry."

Your gaze softened, "I'm really sorry too, my behaviour towards you hasn't been any better either." You continued, "I thought we were destined to be enemies. I don't hate you, I never did. I just wanted you to see the person I am beyond the righteous supe everyone else sees."

Ben slowly took your hands in his, making you look into his eyes. "Now I see you more than I ever thought I would. Maybe.. maybe there's something more here."

You replied, "Maybe there is. What happens now?"

To which he said "We talk. Like normal people. No more running away or avoiding things and arguing for no reason. We figure out where we stand, one step at a time, together."

You smiled, nodding your head. "Agreed. No more hiding how we feel. Besides, I guess I like this way of solving our issues much more." Which made him chuckle and pull you into his arms, staring at you intently, pressing his lips to yours.

Back at the Flatiron building, Hughie sat at his table across from Frenchie, fidgeting with his cup. "I'm worried. What do you think? Will they make up or kill each other?"

Butcher entered the room, a smirk plastered over his face "I'm pretty sure they are fucking like rabbits back there." And boy, was he right.

The two of you went multiple rounds, thanks to your super stamina, christening every possible surface of the safe house. From the couch, to the bedroom and the floor, and the shower too. You had both awoken a hunger, only the other could satiate.

"Now that we're not at each other's throats for the wrong reasons, I think maybe, we'd make a good team after all."

Said Ben, holding you close, running smooth circles on along your arms, with the two of you lying on the bed, tired and basking in the afterglow. You smiled, turning to face him. "We'll have to see about that, you might just be right. For now, I can't believe I'm saying this but I need sleep, we both do. You've worn me out completely."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and lips, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, feeling content in each other's embrace.

It was a start of a connection and understanding that arose from the most unexpected places, even amidst the chaos of a world filled with superhumans and the fight for good. Fiery exchanges and whispered confessions bringing in an unexpected depth to your dynamic, proving that there can be a fragile, pure connection between two polar opposites. Serendipity, often painted as an unusual force, interweaves with fate, guiding people towards love where they're least expecting to find it.

Your story a testament to the unpredicted twists of the heart, proving that even the fiercest adversaries can find redemption in each other's arms.

a/n: Finished watching Season 3 of 'The Boys' just a few days ago and let me just put this out here, Jensen as Soldier Boy is one of the best things to ever happen to this world. Oh! the things I'd let this man do to me-

Been planning this fic for a week now, I really hope y'all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this.

I'd really appreciate if you'd comment any thoughts, improvements, suggestions or requests that you have! Thank you ^_^

Credits: Banner by @mykento

post divider by @saradika

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys amazon #the boys #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #spn fanfiction #supernatural #enemies to lovers #smut #jensen ackles smut #soldier boy smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #18+ mdni #billy butcher #hughie campbell #annie january #homelander #female reader #soldier boy x female reader #dean winchester x female!reader #sam winchester #marvel fanfiction #chris evans x reader #the boys season 4

[fettuccin-e]

Tag-Teaming

Kinktober Day 5: Threesome

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader x Santiago "Pope" Garcia, afab!fem!reader, tag-teaming, unprotected piv (wrap it up gang dont be dumb), fingering and oral (f!recieving), Santi and Frankie both have filthy mouths how dare they (w/c: 1.1K)

A/N: I have been wanting to write a Santi x Frankie x Reader fic for forever okay and kinktober really gave me an excuse, but writing threesomes is so HARD (in more ways than one hehehe) so props to anyone who can write threesomes regularly because it's so difficult. Anyway these two can sandwich me between them anytime (I have been following prompts from this list by @flightlessangelwings!)

It shouldn’t surprise you how good they are together, how well they work. They’re a team. They've always been a team. Why would this be any different?

But fuck, it’s so much different experiencing it, not just seeing it in the field. Frankie plastered against your back, your legs braced over his thighs as he spreads you apart, spreading you so wide for Santiago. Fucking Santi, his cock pressed so deep inside you it’s like you can’t breathe, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips as he breaks you open around him.

“Fuck her harder Pope,” Frankie grumbles, pinching your aching clit between two wonderfully calloused fingers. “Fuck her like you goddamn mean it.” His voice in your ear, his filthy fucking mouth, make your cunt clench around Santi’s cock, and the man groans at both the feeling and Frankie’s command, pounding his cock into you hard.

Frankie rubs furiously at your clit, sending your back arching against his chest, gasping for air. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let yourself fuckin’ feel it. Santi’s cock feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“God, yes, oh my fucking God,” you whine. Santi chuckles, all smugness and delirious pleasure. He rocks into you at an angle that has him jamming into your sweet spot relentlessly. “He feels so fucking good, ‘s so fucking big.”

Santi leans forward again, capturing your lips with his. “You think I’m big, hermosa, I can’t wait to see how you take Frankie’s cock. He’s gonna split you apart, stretch this pussy so fuckin’ wide,” Santi mutters against your mouth.

The thought makes you moan, pressing back against the unmistakable length of Frankie's cock, hard and aching, pressed against your skin. You hear Frankie suck in a labored breath, his fingers pausing on your clit. “You wanna cum, sweetheart?" Santi says, his voice dark with promise. "Get all loose to take Frankie so deep in this little cunt?”

This time, Frankie groans from behind you, deep and rumbling. The sound is intoxicating, especially as his fingers start rubbing at your pussy all over again. An endless mantra of “please, please, please,” escapes from your lips, and Santi growls, fucking into you so hard it makes tears spring to your eyes. You claw at Santi’s back, into Frankie’s forearm, gripping onto them both for dear life.

“C’mon, baby, cum on Santi’s cock, bet you look so pretty when you do. Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around his cock,” Frankie murmurs darkly in your ear. He snakes his other hand up for body, pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. “Don’t you want to see Santi cum, cariño? Won’t he look so pretty?” 

A look up at Santi, his curls drenched with sweat, flush high on his cheeks as his hips work between yours, has you nodding furiously at Frankie’s words, and fuck, you’re cumming at the sight of him, of Santi, so beautiful and debauched between your thighs. Your body locks up with it, your pussy clenching around his length still working into you, Frankie holding you tightly to his chest as Santi fucks you through it.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Santi growls, pressing himself as deep into you as he can, his hips twitching as he fills you up. And God, Frankie was right, Santi is beautiful, twitching through his orgasm, jaw clenched and pupils blown wide. He leans forward to kiss you in a way that is fucking filthy, licking into your mouth desperately, swallowing your moans. You breathe together through it, and when you finally stop trembling, Santi pulls away from your mouth with a feral grin.

“Wanna give Fish a turn, baby?” he whispers, and you manage to mumble a yes, even though your brain has been turned to mush. Santi chuckles, the smug bastard, and slips out of you, the emptiness making you whimper.

“I know, bebita, I know,” Santi says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Frankie’s gonna fill you up again, I promise.”

You lift your hips, turning  your head to press a kiss to Frankie’s lips as Santi grabs Frankie's cock, pressing the tip to your entrance. Fuck, it’s thick, popping past your entrance as you sink your hips down, down, stretching yourself around him. It seems fucking endless, how deep he reaches into your cunt.

“That’s it, baby, it’s so big, isn’t it?" Santi whispers, "Frankie fills you up so good, yeah? Treats this pretty pussy like it fucking deserves?”

“Santiago.” Frankie growls, his fingers digging into your thighs as you clench around him like a vice at Santi’s words. Fuck, he’s so close already. Watching Pope fuck you already had his cock throbbing beneath you, and now, in the hot clutch of your cunt, he feels like a goddamn virgin. And with Santiago whispering some of the filthiest shit he’s ever heard in his life between the three of you, there’s no way he can last very long.

He’ll make you cum first though. Of course he will.

You nearly scream as Frankie pumps his hips up beneath you, spearing you deep on his cock. He holds tight to your thighs as he pounds furiously in and out of you, ripping you to pieces on top of him. He’s so fucking warm against your back, Santi radiating heat against your front, and you swear to God that you could pass out then and there. Fuck, it’s so good, Frankie’s cock drags against your g-spot with every fucking thrust, unrelenting and utterly debilitating.

And then, Santi lays down on his front, eyes trained on where you and Frankie are connected, and sucks your clit into his hot mouth.

This time, you really do scream, your hands flying down to tangle in Santi’s hair while he licks feverishly at your clit, and you cum, Santi licking between your legs, Frankie pounding up into your cunt. You thrash between them, utterly lost in the feeling of it, hot tears leaking down your cheeks.

“Fuck yes, baby, that’s our good girl,” Frankie groans from behind you.

“Please, please cum Frankie, need you to fucking cum,” you cry, and Frankie has no choice but to follow your orders. He sinks deep inside, biting into your shoulder as he drowns your pussy in his cum. The thought of it mixing with Pope’s inside of you has him shaking through his orgasm.

“God, look at that,” Santi murmurs from between your legs, watching you clench around Frankie so tight he can barely move, cum leaking out around where Frankie is buried deep inside you. His cock twitches at the sight. Later, he thinks, later, we’ll do this again, over and over.

For now, he helps Fish guide you off of his lap, laying you between them. The three of you plaster yourselves against each other, breathing together. A unit, a team. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#i fr need them both right fucking now #santi frankie sandwich <3 #yeah frankie has a massive schlong #frankie x reader x santi #frankie morales x reader x santiago garcia #catfish x reader x pope #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier x you #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

[joelscruff]

one of your girls (frankie morales x triple frontier boys) 18+

a/n it's @swiftiscruff friendship exchange time!!! i'm so beyond excited to share this piece i've been working on, dedicated to my incredible friend han @swiftispunk 🌙 we brainstormed the idea for this fic months ago and it's finally somehow become something tangible - but han, if i've learned anything from writing this fic, it's how much i depend on you when it comes to so many aspects of my writing. whether it be workshopping ideas, input on characterization & dialogue, sharing snippets, etc, you are always there to lend a hand, listen, and advise. not having that this time around (because this fic has been a secret ofc!) just further proved to me what an incredibly patient, giving, caring, kind, & beautiful friend you are. i love you so much & i'm so grateful you slid in my dms one whole year ago today 💕 summary: unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk 🙌) rating: 18+ explicit warnings: circle jerk (frankie/benny/santiago/will), sub!frankie, bukkake, facials, cumplay, cum swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), praise kink galore, pet names (good boy, baby boy), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cock worship, use of restraints, sexy photographs, sharing, mentions of frankie x all the boys individually (this includes tom but he's not involved in the circle jerk - sorry tom), brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf but it's not really the main focus...for now anyway, all of this takes place before the events of triple frontier word count: 12.2k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💙

You've been moving boxes for what feels like forever, arms aching and the sun beating hot against the back of your neck as you swipe sweat from your brow and head back into the aging, disintegrating storage unit. When Frankie had first told you about it you'd been adamant that he move his old things - locked away for almost ten years now - out of the unit and into the new house. "We don't need to be paying for storage when we have a garage", you'd said confidently, "we have a house now, Frankie. What's yours is mine."

If only you'd believed him when he'd told you it wouldn't be that easy.

"I told y-" he begins for the fourth time as you lean down to grab another box, but you snap up immediately with a finger to your lips. "Why don't I just do the rest from here?" He offers fruitlessly, "You take a break, relax in the truck for a little while."

You're already shaking your head before he's finished talking, resuming your retrieval of the large box at your feet, "No, Frankie. We do this together."

You don't have to look at him to know that he's rolling his eyes. All the same, you hear him clamoring after you with another box as he follows you from the unit and back to the truck. The sun hangs high overhead and you squint uncomfortably against it, piling the box alongside the others in the truck bed. Frankie does the same.

"I mean, what's even in all of these?" you ask exasperatedly, shoving one of the many boxes with your hand and leaning backwards against the truck, "How did you accumulate this much shit in the military? I thought minimalism was all the rage over there."

"I told you, it's not just mine," he reaches forward to brush some sweaty tendrils of hair out of your eyes, "It's the whole team's shit. Well, mostly Ben and Pope's, the others were uh-" he winches, "a little more organized, I guess."

"You guess?" you push up on your hands and seat yourself precariously on the edge of the truck bed, catching your breath. Frankie watches as you tear open the nearest box, biting down on his lip to stifle a laugh when he sees your eyes widen at what's inside.

"Paperwork?" you breathe, mouth agape, "Paperwork? That's what in all these? Fucking forms?"

"Something they don't tell you when you first join," he shrugs, "But no, that's not all that's in these. There's souvenirs, journals, photos, mission plans-" he cuts himself off and stops speaking altogether, lips clamping shut. Your brow furrows as you watch him assess the open box beside you, then the others strewn haphazardly here and there inside the truck bed, as if he's only just realized something he hadn't considered before.

"What?"

He seems to shake himself from whatever stopped him, eyes still settled on the open box as he murmurs, "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"Just, uh... don't."

"Well that's not ominous in the slightest."

He laughs but something about it seems off, almost forced as he reaches forward with both hands to help you down from the truck. You follow his lead, peering up at him curiously and hoping maybe he'll elaborate, explain, but instead he turns on the spot and heads back toward the storage unit, pulling you along in tow.

You decide not to press him about it for the time being. Right now, all you can think about is finishing hauling these ridiculous boxes and devouring an iced coffee on the way home.

A week passes before you even think about the boxes again.

By that time they've been taking up residence in the garage, haphazardly placed along the concrete in unorganized disarray, exactly where you'd both left them the day you unloaded the unit. You'd been too exhausted to start unpacking and had instead collapsed on the couch, laying there with aching limbs as Frankie discarded your empty iced coffee and poured you a tall glass of water.

"Your job is done now, querida," he'd murmured softly, stroking your cheek, "I'll do the rest."

Except he hadn't. He'd pulled your feet into his lap and settled comfortably beside you on the couch, just for a moment - and then it was lights out for the both of you, boxes be damned.

Now you find yourself the following Saturday perched precariously atop your counter, fingers smeared a soft fern green as you paint the walls of your new kitchen. You only moved into this house a month ago - your first real house together; shared, owned, all that jazz. Most of that time has already been entirely dedicated to making it your own space; unpacking, decorating, furnishing, rearranging - you've been more than busy with curating this new step in both your lives.

Which is why it's not surprising that you forget about the storage unit boxes and their scatteredness in the garage, too distracted by your current ongoing tasks. You hum along to the radio as you carefully attend to the smallest crevices and spaces between the cupboards, above the stove, under the window sill. You need it to be perfect, have gone far too long living in a less than adequate apartment without much creative freedom for this house to suffer the same fate.

Of course, just as you acknowledge the desire for perfection, your hand slips. A splash of green suddenly paints the pure white window sill and your heart sinks.

"Frankie!" you call out with a groan, reaching forward to wipe the mess away and only making it worse, "Where's the white paint?"

"Should be in the garage, I think," you hear him call back from the living room, busy with his own task of painting the walls a deep maroon, "Need me to get it for you?"

"No, I got it," you slide off the counter, careful to avoid the can of green paint at your feet as you make your way to the garage. It's only when you pass the threshold off the laundry room that you finally remember the forgotten boxes, faced with them for the first time since you dropped them off.

"Dammit, Francisco," you mutter, "You said you'd take care of it."

You can't really blame him though. It really is an undertaking; you'd known that from the moment he told you about the unit to begin with. He'd wanted to keep them there, would rather continue paying the monthly fee than deal with the enormous amount of unpacking he'd have to do, but you'd pushed. Now, as you grimace at the pile of heavy boxes, you wonder if maybe he'd been right.

For now, you turn your attention to the task at hand - finding white paint. You scan the storage shelves along the walls and spot the can you're looking for on a high shelf, out of reach.

Maybe those boxes can serve a purpose today.

You shove one toward the shelf and heave another one on top, making quick work of it despite the effort. Climbing onto your makeshift stepladder, you reach for the white paint and successfully pull it to your chest, but the added weight causes your feet to dig into the box below, exposing its contents as you carefully pull yourself back down. Your eyes can't help but dart to the crushed opening, spotting what looks like a photo album peeking through.

Setting the paint down, you lower yourself onto the concrete and cross your legs, biting your lip and reaching inside the box to grab the album. It's navy blue, relatively small, lightweight. A little skim couldn't hurt.

As soon as you open the photo album you can't help but smile, met immediately with a photo of Frankie and Santiago with their arms around each other - fifteen years younger. Their eyes are alight with excitement, Frankie's cap askew and Santi's expression caught in a permanent laugh. Before, you think to yourself, this was before shit got real. You flip the page and smile wider when you see a photo of Benny and Will, caught in what must be a playful brawl with Benny's hand grabbing at Will's leg as he tries to get away. Will is grinning from ear to ear, a genuine smile you've only seen a handful of times. Yep, definitely before.

You flip through the rest of the photos with a heaviness in your heart you can't describe. You've known these boys for a handful of years, have only heard fragments of the shit they've been through together, but you know it wasn't easy, know it affected them in ways you'll never even begin to understand. Being able to see them before all that, before they became hardened and molded by pain and trauma, you can't deny the emotions that bubble in your throat.

The last page contains a group photo; Frankie is in the center, surrounded by his friends on all sides, Will and Benny turned towards him with a fond smile and a grin, Santiago with an arm around him again and his head tilted to brush against Frankie's cap, and Tom on the edge - looking a little out of place, you must admit. But then, you suppose, things haven't really changed.

You're about to close the album and return to your painting when you notice a little pocket built into the backing, hidden out of sight with a hint of white poking through. Not wanting to miss out on another good photo, you slip your finger inside and happily tug out what looks to be a polaroid, different than the others. Curiously, you flip it over.

And immediately drop it to the floor.

Suddenly you can hear Frankie's words from last week, thrumming in your mind on repeat: "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You hadn't understood. But now you think you do.

With slightly shaky fingers you reach down and pick up the polaroid, taking a breath before slowly flipping it over again. Lips parted, eyes wide, heart pounding, you peer down at the little photograph and try to understand what you're seeing.

A much younger Frankie - naked, save for the cap on his head and the pants around his ankles. On his knees, peering up at the camera with hooded eyes and a fucked-out expression you've become more than familiar with at this point in your relationship. But that's not what made you drop the photo, no.

His face is covered in cum. You know that's what it is, know there's nothing else it could possibly be. Thick trails of it paint his face like abstract art, dripping down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his chin. It's all over him, smeared along his neck and chest bloomed red with heat and arousal. His cap is askew, cheeks flushed, and - most notable of all - he's smiling. Looking up at the camera, drenched in cum, smiling.

Frankie is bisexual; you've known this since your first date, remember how shy he'd been as he'd softly murmured, "Just so you know, I like girls and guys." It hadn't bothered you at all to know that he'd been with men in the past - in fact, you'd kind of liked that about him.

So this - this doesn't bother you. You're not bothered. You're... you don't know what you are, can't seem to pinpoint exactly how you're feeling right now as peer down at the polaroid that you were probably never supposed to find. You're not bothered, you're just... surprised. And confused. What is this doing here? Why is it hidden in an album of Frankie and his friends?

....Oh.

"Find it?" you suddenly hear Frankie call from the living room, and your stomach drops. You hastily stand and slip the polaroid into your back pocket, then close the album and toss it back into the box.

"Y-yeah," you call back, "I got it!"

You try not to mention it. Try, being the operative word.

But it's all you can think about. It's all you see when you reunite with Frankie in the kitchen later that afternoon, staring at the flecks of maroon paint scattered across his face and being unable to not see smears of splattered white. It's all you see that evening as you dig into your leftover Chinese food, eyes constantly flickering across the table to watch Frankie bite and chew, lips soft and wet and definitely not leaking cum at the corners.

It's all you see that night when you settle in bed and watch as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping down his neck and chest not unlike the thick drops of release in the photo. You watch with hooded eyes, lips parted, heart thrumming, as he tugs the towel off and walks to the dresser with his pert ass on full display. You can't help but wonder if there'd been cum there too, leaking and dripping, hidden away because of the angle of the photo.

"I can feel you staring at me," he suddenly says with a chuckle, "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer." He says it in jest but you feel your face bloom with heat, immediately averting your eyes and burying yourself beneath the sheets.

"I was not," you lie, "Get over yourself."

He laughs again and you hear him shut the dresser, probably tugging on a pair of briefs, "You've been looking at me weird all day, it's kind of freaking me out."

You want to point out that "all day" is an exaggeration, but then you'd have to admit that you have been looking at him strangely for at least a portion of it, and you really don't want to do that. Instead, you reach over and turn off the lamp on your bedside table, then nuzzle into your pillow and close your eyes, ignoring him.

"Is something wrong, baby?" you hear him ask, humor slowly dissipating from his voice, "You need to talk about anything?"

"No," you lie, your own voice betraying you immediately, "I'm fine."

You feel the bed dip beside you, feel the warmth of his palm come down to gently caress your upper arm, "You sure? Did I do something to upset you?" You can practically hear him wince as soon as he says the words, "I know, I should already know if I did. But today's been busy and-"

"You didn't do anything, Frankie," you tell him softly, "I promise."

"Then what is it?" you can hear the concern, the gentle worry as he strokes your arm up and down, "Talk to me." He sounds so kind, so tender, as always. It's so damn hard to keep anything from him. You sigh.

"I feel..." you grimace, eyes still closed, "I just feel..."

He waits for you to continue, in the meantime settling into bed beside you and tugging the sheets up over himself. You feel his warmth against your body and it immediately fills you with a sense of calm, comfort. Your heart slows a bit, breaths coming a little easier as he brings his arm down to wrap around you and pull you in close.

"How do you feel, querida?" he murmurs, "Tell me."

"Guilty," you finally breathe, and you're surprised to feel tears pricking in your eyes, "I feel guilty."

You can hear the confusion in his voice, "For what?"

"I...I saw something I shouldn't have," you admit quietly, "In one of your boxes. Something really private that you probably never ever wanted me to see and I'm so sorry." You feel his arm freeze at your side and you take a shaky breath, "And now I can't stop thinking about it even though it's absolutely none of my damn business. And I wanna ask you about it but I really have no right to, not when I wasn't even supposed to know about it in the first place, and-"

"Mierda," he groans - shit.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie" you whisper pathetically, still facing away from him, "It's all my fault and if you need me to just forget about it, I will. I promise that I will."

"Fuck," he murmurs, "No no, baby, it's not your fault, it's mine. I should have unpacked all of it myself. I knew there was shit in there you might not wanna see."

"Y-you're not mad at me?"

He buries his face in your hair, nose nuzzling against your neck, "Of course I'm not mad at you - could never be mad at you for that. What's mine is yours, remember?"

You pull away to turn and face him, expression pensive. He's looking at you with earnest eyes, no anger or betrayal to be seen, and it almost makes it worse. Because does he know? Does he realize what exactly it is that you found?

"You have um..." you bite your lip, "You have pictures, in a photo album."

He stares at you, brow furrowing. "What?"

Fuck.

"There was... there was a photo album in one of the boxes. And I figured I'd just flip through it, just to have a look at you when you were younger, you know? Thought it'd be nice, that there might be something we could frame for the house."

He's looking at you like you're speaking another language, confusion lining his features, "....So?"

"So... so I found..." you wince, the image flashing behind your lids again as you try to figure out how to word it, "I found a picture that I don't think you would have wanted me to see."

He's still staring at you, the cogs turning in his head but seemingly no closer to an answer. You picture him flipping through an invisible rolodex, trying to pinpoint exactly what picture you could be talking about. You're starting to realize that maybe when he'd told you to stop looking in the boxes he'd been talking about something else.

"Honestly baby, I thought you meant you looked at some of my paperwork," he admits. Bingo. "Saw some stuff we did for a mission or something. There's plans in those boxes, strategy stuff, and you know how intense some of those were, some of the..." he takes a beat, biting his lip, "some of the things we had to do."

You shake your head quickly, "It wasn't anything like that. It wasn't...it wasn't something serious, really. It was..." you take a deep breath, still unable to say the words. Instead, you reach over into your nightstand and grab the polaroid, sitting up in bed and waiting for him to join you.

"What is it?" he asks, gentle and kind as he sits up beside you, "You can tell me, baby. We can talk about it."

Your heart races but you figure there's no going back from it now, and you're not sure you'd want to keep it from him anyway. Up until this point you and Frankie have always made communication an important part of your relationship. It's been necessary considering what he's been through, what he still deals with, and it's something that you're proud of. You're just gonna have to grin and bear it.

With a sigh, you shakily hand him the polaroid.

He flips it.

And drops it.

"Oh," he gasps, hand coming up to cover his mouth, "Oh, fuck."

"It's not- I'm not-" you stutter, fumbling over your words, "It's not a big deal, really. Like, it's whatever. I know you're bi, I know you've probably sucked your fair share of dicks-"

"Oh god," Frankie moans, his hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Oh my god."

"Hey, hey, no," you reach up and try to pull his hands away from his face, desperation in your voice, "Do not hide from me, you did nothing wrong. You hear me? There's nothing wrong with this." He groans again, shaking his head, but you just keep on talking, "I'm not mad about it or anything, it'd be pretty fucked up for me to mad about it actually. I'm just- hey," you continue to pry at his fingers, "Francisco, look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, he finally removes his hands from his eyes to peer at you. You can see the embarrassment there, the humiliation - and not the good kind, not the kind he likes.

"Hey," you whisper, "You don't have to talk about this. We can pretend I never even saw it if that's what you want," you bring his hands down and hold them tightly, squeeze them in your own, "I just... I just wanted you to know that I saw it. And that I was just a little curious about why it was in an album from your military days. That's it. That's all."

His eyes fall back to the flipped polaroid on the bed, the back of it facing the both of you. You watch as he slowly reaches forward to pick it up again with his index and middle finger, pulls it upwards and turns it around to see it again.

Out of respect for him, you don't look at it. You just watch his face, his expression. He looks.... thoughtful.

"Talk to me," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please."

He looks from the polaroid to you, then back to the polaroid. After taking a steadying breath, he places it back down onto the bed between the two of you, face up. Your eyes spot his cum-covered face again, frozen forever in time, and you quickly avert your gaze.

He notices, and gives you a small half smile. You return it tenfold.

"Well, it.." he starts, taking another breath, "It was just something that.. we just started-" he cuts himself off, smile turning to a frown as he formulates his words. "It started..."

"Hey," you breathe, reaching down to squeeze his hands again, "Take your time."

It started as a way to blow off steam - that's it. Simple, easy.

They'd all gotten to know one another during training, spent time shooting the shit and building friendships with each other. There had been such a sense of belonging, of fortified brotherhood, a pull toward one another that none of them could deny. So it was unsurprising when their teamwork and comradery resulted in their placement into a special task force, just the five of them against the world - or, rather, the enemy.

But it was stressful. Going from basic military training to special ops added a new layer of pressure and competence that they hadn't experienced before, and it was no walk in the park. Things got harder, more pressing, more important. And all they had, like always, was each other.

So it made sense one night, for Frankie anyway, to offer Santiago a blowjob.

He'd heard the stiff grunts from the bed beside him, the dry - too dry - slap of skin as Santi worked at himself beneath the thin sheet of his bunk. It wasn't abnormal for Frankie to overhear one of his buddies masturbating; in fact it would have been abnormal to not hear it. He'd gotten used to the different sounds they'd each make as they gripped their cocks, hidden away in the dark, and pumped themselves to completion. He had memorized the sounds of their breathing, the grunts and the whines, the soft moans of their orgasms.

But it was never something that was discussed. It was an unspoken rule, almost: what happens in the bunks stays in the bunks. So Frankie had never even considered crossing that line, especially because he was pretty sure he was the only one in the group who liked dudes - something everyone was only vaguely aware of.

There was something about the desperation in Santi's movements that night, in the sweat on his brow and the pained expression on his face. He'd gotten reprimanded earlier that day for failing a training mission, been yelled at by two commanding officers while the rest of the boys looked on with regret in their hearts. If one of them failed, they all felt as if they'd failed too. Santi hadn't spoken to anyone for the rest of the day, had eaten in silence and then retired to his bunk much too early. And now, hours later here he was, hand around his cock, trying to forget.

And Frankie wanted to help.

"Pope," he'd whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Santiago to hear. Santi had turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising when he realized he'd been caught in the act. He'd been about to say something, defend himself maybe, but Frankie had shook his head and continued, "Need some help?"

A look of confusion. "Help?"

Frankie's eyes had wandered to the shape of Santi's lower half beneath the sheet, then back up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," he'd murmured earnestly, "Help."

Santi had stared at him for a few seconds, brow furrowed, chest heaving. His hand was frozen under the sheet, gripping firmly to his hard cock as he'd considered Frankie's offer. Someone else might have hurled hurtful words, another might have ignored him completely.

But Santi took a deep breath and leaned back, closed his eyes and breathed, "Go ahead."

Frankie had been under the sheet in minutes.

Tucked away, hidden in case any of the other guys woke up, Frankie sucked slowly on his friend's cock. He wasn't sure how much Santi wanted to see of him, figured maybe he'd have his eyes closed as he pictured someone else, maybe that girl he liked from back home, but it didn't matter to Frankie - what mattered most was helping his friend forget about the shitty day he'd had. He treated Santi's cock like something to be worshipped, swallowing and licking around the big shape of him, warm and thick in his mouth. And when Santi came, it was only moments after Frankie had started.

His hands came down to grip Frankie's curls, tugging and pulling as he'd groaned and spilled down his friend's throat. And Frankie had swallowed every drop.

"Francisco," Santi had murmured when Frankie pulled off his cock with a pop, a drop of cum leaking from the corner of his mouth as he peered up at Santi from beneath the sheet, "You've been holding out on me."

With a smile, Frankie had licked the cum away and placed a gentle, reverent kiss to the wet head of Santi's cock. Santi had watched with hooded eyes, let Frankie kiss him there a few more times, let him trail his nose along his thick shaft and inhale deeply at the base. Hands still carding through his hair, Santi had let him mouth at his cock for a few more minutes before softly telling him he should get back in his bunk.

"Just trying to savor it," Frankie had whispered, voice a little sad, a little broken.

"You'll do it again," Santi had replied, reveling in the way Frankie's eyes widened, a smile lighting up his face.

And he did do it again - the following night. He'd been a little hesitant, unsure if Santiago had really meant what he said. But after the others had fallen asleep and Frankie was still just lying there, waiting, he'd heard a soft pssst sound. He'd looked over to see Santi sitting up in bed with a smirk on his face and one hand already beneath the sheet, tugging at his dick.

He stuffed his mouth with Santi's cock every night that week. It was almost feral the way he drank him down, eyes rolling as his lips kissed Santi's pubic hair and his tongue laved the shaft of his cock up and down, up and down. Drool cascaded from his lips all over his friend's belly, and he whined softly over and over whenever his curls were tugged, his temples stroked. Santi would talk to him softly, murmur the quietest little praises that made Frankie insane with need. That's it, there you go. You take what you need, Francisco. And then he'd come down his throat, fill his stomach with it, and whisper, "Good boy."

It was filthy, but it wasn't wrong. Not one part of it felt wrong. And Santiago never once made him feel like it was a shameful secret they were keeping, like the others finding out would be the end of the world. And it's good that he'd maintained that stance, because soon enough, Benny was in on it too. They should have seen it coming, considering his bunk was directly above Santi's.

"Can you give me one, maybe?" he'd asked Frankie awkwardly one night, voice quiet and slightly nervous as he leaned over the bars of the bunk bed, "I've been... I've been listening to it every night and it's driving me fuckin' crazy that I don't know what it feels like."

"Are you saying you've never had a blowjob, Ben?"

Benny had rolled his eyes, "Of course I've had a fuckin' blowjob, idiot. I've just never had a... a you know..." he'd shrugged, "A Frankie blowjob."

"It's good," Santi had said nonchalantly, tugging off his shirt and climbing into his bunk, "He's fucking incredible, actually."

Frankie had preened at the praise, cheeks reddening. An hour later he'd climbed up into Benny's bunk and deepthroated his cock for a solid fifteen minutes. Benny was breathless, chest blooming with heat as he watched Frankie suck and drool, gagging every so often but immediately resuming his sloppy ministrations as soon as he'd caught his breath.

"Look at that," Benny had marveled softly, "Look at that."

"I told you," they'd both heard Santi whisper from below, "He's a fucking godsend."

"I'm gonna cum down your fuckin' throat, Frankie," Benny had groaned, and no sooner were the words out that he was following through, spurting slow and steady into Frankie's mouth. He gripped the back of his head, watched Frankie swallow, and then whispered, "Good boy". Oh, he really had been listening.

Sated and warm with wet and sticky briefs, Frankie had climbed back into bed with a new appreciation for Benny.

As if two wasn't enough, Will got involved shortly after that. Of course Benny had unsurprisingly spilled the beans to his brother, which lead to Frankie climbing atop his own bunk one night to join Will, who'd been a bit unsure. It was as if he thought a prank was being pulled on him, like it was all bullshit, but he didn't say no.

"Been wonderin' what you three were gettin' up to," he'd muttered, watching Frankie a bit dubiously, brow furrowed, arms crossed, "Ben says you're, uh... good."

"I'm good," Frankie had promised softly, bringing his hands down to tug at Will's boxers, "Promise."

Will had watched as Frankie brought his already hardening cock out of his underwear, kissed the tip gently and then brought it into his mouth. "Oh fuck," he'd heard Will gasp out, immediately reaching up to cup the back of Frankie's head. And then there were three.

But three stayed three. Tom did find out about it, considering every single night somebody seemed to be getting their dick sucked. Any discreetness had gone out the window, especially when two of them would jack themselves off to the sounds of Frankie slurping and sucking, groans and the heavy slap of skin echoing throughout the large room. But despite the knowledge of what his friends were doing, the leader of the group was seemingly disinterested in having a go with Frankie.

There was one disastrous evening wherein the others managed to convince Tom to give it a shot. But Frankie bobbed on his cock for a solid five minutes before realizing he just wasn't getting him hard, and Tom had pushed him away and turned in bed with a low sigh.

"It's just not for me, Fish," he'd muttered, "Pretend it never happened."

"He doesn't know what he's missing," Santi had murmured ten minutes later as he watched Frankie suckle on the leaking tip of his cock, "Huh, Francisco? Doesn't know you've got the mouth of an angel, huh?"

Frankie had continued to suck, eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out as Santi stroked his hair.

Things were easier for a while after that. The training was strenuous, oftentimes near impossible, but there was always pleasure at the end of it, always something to look forward to. Every night Frankie would take up residence in someone's bunk, usually after a quick game of rock paper scissors or a straw draw. Each of his friends were different in their own way, and Frankie took a lot of joy in being able to have those moments with them, be what they needed. It felt like he was floating, dreaming; he'd never realized how badly he wanted to be submissive like this until it actually happened. Being their shared prize, their plaything, it was fucking incredible.

Sometimes he'd have all three in one night. He'd deepthroat Benny's cock and swallow him down, then stagger to Will's bunk and do the same. With his own erection aching in his underwear he'd finally crawl in with Santi and allow his closest friend to pull down his briefs and notch the head of his cock into his ass. Santi was the only one who fucked him, the only one who held him close afterwards and sometimes fell asleep with him.

"You my good boy, Francisco?" he'd murmur in Frankie's ear as he fucked him slow and deep, fingers digging into his hips beneath the sheets, "You like feelin' that cock in your ass?"

And god, did he ever.

The first real mission was brutal.

It was tame compared to the things they'd eventually do, but for what it was, they were stressed out of their minds. They spent weeks planning, training, preparing. They'd find themselves so tired at the end of the day that their nighttime habits became a thing of the past, if not something that only happened once in a blue moon. And in its own way the lack of it had begun to affect everything else, their comradery, their abilities, their drive. The day before the mission was set to begin, Benny stood up at dinner and proclaimed, "We've gotta get our shit together."

"Sit down, our shit is together," Tom grumbled, "We're gonna be fine."

"We are not gonna be fine," Benny argued, expression genuinely fearful, "We're gonna fail the whole fuckin' thing and then we're out on our asses."

"There's truth to that, you know there is," Will pointed out as he pulled Benny back down, "There's somethin' missing here. We're not on our A game."

"What, 'cause Morales isn't getting sucked and fucked?"

Frankie's head had gone up, ears tinging pink as he looked over at Tom along with everybody else. There had been a beat of silence, and then-

"Nobody said that," Santi had stated calmly, "And don't be a dick."

"I'm not being a dick. It's fine what you all get up to in your own time, whatever. But it's not the be-all and end-all of our fucking team," he'd shrugged and looked at Santi with a frown, "I mean, come on, Pope. We're prepared, with or without the extracurriculars."

"We are," Santiago had agreed with a nod, turning to Benny, "It's gonna be fine, man. The nerves are just kicking in now but that's normal. We've trained for this, we're ready."

But Frankie could tell he wasn't being entirely truthful.

That night, despite the tiredness of the last day of training and the anxiety of what was to come - Frankie found a solution. He told Santi first, whispered it to him in his bunk and grinned at the expression on his friend's face, awestruck and aroused all at once.

"You're sure?" Santi asked him quietly.

"I'm sure. I think it'll help us de-stress."

Santi had leaned forward and tilted Frankie's cap up, pressed a firm kiss to his forehead and murmured, "Me sigues sorprendiendo, Francisco." You continue to surprise me.

A moment later he was climbing the ladder of Santi's bunk, coming face to face with Benny. "You wanna do something kinky?"

The younger man's eyebrow raised, "Kinkier than usual?"

"A blowjob is not kinky, Ben."

"Getting one from a guy is."

Frankie rolled his eyes and went to pull himself back down the ladder but Benny stopped him, reaching out to touch his wrist.

"What'd you have in mind?"

And that's how he'd ended up on his knees.

Will and Benny stood on either side of Santiago, all three men looking down at their submissive friend with unbridled arousal in their expressions, dark and anticipatory. There was silence at first, not necessarily awkward but full of a definite tension that was more than palpable.

Until-

"Tie him up," Santi murmured to Benny. Frankie's eyes went hooded almost immediately, lips parting as he peered up at his friends and felt his heart pound at the thought of what Santi was asking.

"How so?"

"His hands," Santi clarified, "There's some string in the first aid kit, tie his hands behind his back so he can't touch himself."

Benny followed his orders without question, heading toward the bathroom to grab the kit while Will gave Santiago a confused look. "Why can't he touch himself?"

Santi smiled, tilting his head a bit and peering down at Frankie's already debauched form. He walked forward and kneeled down in front of him, levelling with him as he reached for his waistband.

"'Cause he likes it," Santi murmured, "Haven't you noticed something about Frankie in all the months we've been doing this?" As he spoke he pulled down Frankie's pants to his knees, exposing his bare thighs to the room. He was already hard, the long shape of his cock protruding from his black briefs. "He doesn't touch himself," he continued softly, stroking his thumb gently against the V of Frankie's hips, "He always comes in his pants when he sucks our dicks."

Hearing the words aloud, stated so matter-of-factly, Frankie realized in that moment how fucking well Santiago had come to know him. Not once had Frankie voiced this, told him anything about what he really liked, what he craved. And yet here he was, having his desires told directly to him, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"And when he gets fucked," Santi continued, fingers trailing downward to ever so gently cup Frankie's cock, "He only lets me touch it. Ain't that right, Francisco?"

Frankie nodded slowly, a lump forming in his throat.

"Why?" Will asked again - always wanting clarification, an explanation.

"'Cause it feels good, doesn't it, Frankie?" Santi cooed, releasing Frankie's bulge and bringing his hand up to place a finger under his chin, "Feels so good to come untouched, huh? Feels good to let go when you've got a dick in your mouth, to fall asleep with your underwear all wet and your cock all sticky?"

Frankie nodded again, cheeks blooming pink. He felt someone behind him pick up his hands, start tying them together - Benny.

"Come to think of it, I've never seen his cock," Benny admitted, voice already rough with anticipation, "I mean... I guess I had other things on my mind."

"He's got a fucking great cock," Santi murmured, "Why don't you show 'em, Francisco? Let 'em see what you've been hiding under here, huh?" His finger dug into the band of Frankie's briefs, and all Frankie could do was nod again, unable to speak with the way his thoughts had begun to melt away, brain going fuzzy.

Benny finished tying his hands and walked in front of him again to stand alongside Santi, eyebrows going up when he watched Frankie's cock be freed from the confines of his underwear. It stood at attention immediately, long and hard, pink and flushed at the tip. It smacked wetly against his belly, balls hanging heavy and full as Santi pulled his briefs down entirely.

"Now look at that pretty cock," Santi breathed, almost just for Frankie alone, "Look how it's dripping."

And it was dripping, already pulsing and bobbing against his belly button with every rise and fall of his chest. The three men watched in silence for a moment as Frankie took deep breaths, his cock twitching and stuttering in front of them without being touched, simply exposed to the cool air of the room and their interested gazes.

"I kinda wanna...." Benny started to say, but trailed off, blushing a bit as he took a step away from his brother.

"I'll stay between you," Santi offered quickly, "Pull 'em out, it's fine."

There was no more hesitation after that. Frankie watched under his lashes as his three friends reached into their pajama pants and pulled out their cocks. Will was still mostly soft, though you could tell he was starting to harden with the sudden gravity of the situation. Benny was already stiff and leaking as he fisted his own, and Santiago's hung heavy and thick between his legs as he carefully circled the head with his thumb.

"We're gonna come all over your face, Frank," Benny told him quietly as he jerked his cock slowly up and down, "You know that, right? You're sure you're cool with that?"

It was like he was underwater, still unable to speak; he hadn't said one word since he'd gotten on his knees. It was as if the submissive part of him had taken over completely, mind going blank.

"Say yes or no, Fish," Will said, voice strained as he squeezed himself gently, "Wanna hear it."

"Yes," Frankie had finally managed to whimper, knees trembling against the cold floor, "Yes, please."

Santi grinned, "Well boys, I think we got our answer," He tilted his head again to eye Frankie from where he stood, "Let's get a little closer, shall we? I think he wants us up close and personal."

Within a few seconds Frankie was suddenly face to face with three cocks - it was like fucking Christmas morning. His mouth popped open and drool immediately began to collect in the corners of his mouth, eyes trailing back and forth to look at absolutely everything he could. He stared at the weeping tips, the fat heads, the thick shafts where his friends pumped and fisted. Without any thoughts in his brain he opened his mouth and laid his tongue flat against his lower lip, staring at Benny's cock - arguably the biggest - with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, you wanna suck on it, don't you?" Benny asked, a smile in his voice, "You go ahead, Fish. Suck that cock."

He did not need telling twice. His lips wrapped around the pink mushroom head of Benny's cock and his eyes rolled back as he began to suck, tongue lapping at the tip and devouring everything it had to offer. God he loved having his mouth full, loved hearing Benny's groans as he pushed his head forward and enveloped more and more of the cock in front of him, began to slide his lips up and down the shaft and cover it in his saliva.

"So pretty with a cock in your throat, Francisco," Santi told him, voice full of praise as he watched Frankie sink down even further on Benny's cock, 'til his nose was buried in his pubic hair. "Tell him how pretty he is, Benny. He wants to hear it."

Frankie anticipated some hesitance, maybe even a sarcastic comment, but Benny did no such thing. Instead, Benny's hand came up to cup the back of Frankie's head, holding him still on his cock as he breathed, "You're so pretty, Frankie."

A high keen of a whine made it's way from Frankie's throat, vibrated around the cock in his mouth. Benny trembled a bit, tangling his fingers in his hair and helping him bob a few more times before pulling him off completely. Frankie gasped for breath, tears in his eyes as he stared up at his friends.

"Your turn," Santi murmured quietly to Will, "Stuff him full."

"He fuckin' loves being stuffed," Will replied with a low chuckle, yanking Frankie forward by his hair and shoving his now fully hard cock into his mouth. It was the kind of rough Frankie was already well acquainted with when it came to Will, and he welcomed it with gratitude. He closed his eyes and allowed Will's cock to sink into his mouth like Benny's had, then swallowed around it, tightening the walls of his throat and gagging around the large intrusion.

"Yeah, choke on it, baby," Will muttered, gripping both sides of Frankie's head with a groan, "Baby boy."

Baby boy. That was a new one, especially from Will, but Frankie certainly wasn't complaining. He swallowed around him again, feeling his own cock bob against his stomach as he continued to worship Will's dick. There was only so much of the sensation that Will could take, and before long he too was pulling out of Frankie's mouth and resuming his slow strokes, breathing heavily.

"M'your baby boy," Frankie murmured to the three of them, Will's words still echoing in his mind. His voice was already completely shot, rough and scratchy from the two large cocks that had invaded his throat.

"You are," Santiago cooed, leaning forward to gently tap the head of his own cock against Frankie's bottom lip, "You're our baby boy, Frankie. Our good, pretty, perfect boy, huh?"

Yes, Frankie wanted to whisper, it's all I am. It's all I wanna be. But his mouth was already being filled a third time, this time by Santi's cock - the thickest of the three. His vision blurred with tears as it stretched his lips, the masculine taste dripping on the back of his tongue and down his throat. He'd had Santi's cock in his mouth the most out of everyone's; had fallen asleep a few times suckling on the tip of it while Santi murmured praise, like a comfort, a constant.

He knew exactly what Santi liked, what he didn't, how to tease him, how to get him there. Immediately, Frankie curled his tongue around the wide head, dipped the tip of it into Santi's slit and carefully fucked it in and out while suctioning the rest. He kept his eyes open this time even though they burned with tears, allowing himself to meet Santiago's gaze just how he knew he liked it.

"Oh, good boy," Santi praised softly, thumbing Frankie's cheeks and letting the head of his cock sit just inside the wet heat of his mouth, "Suckin' on that cock like it's my thumb, huh? Just how you like it?"

Now that was something unbeknownst to Benny and Will. They knew Santi liked to fuck Frankie sometimes, but they didn't know much about the logistics, the positioning, the way it worked. More often than not, Frankie would suck on Santi's thumb when he was being fucked, liked the feeling of having both his holes full at the same time. It felt complete somehow, safe. God, what would it feel like now if Santi were to fuck him and let Benny or Will fuck his throat? What would it feel like to be truly filled up like that, the way he'd always imagined? His cock twitched against his belly again, still untouched, still pulsing, and he moaned around Santi's cock.

"I think our baby boy needs a little break," Santi murmured softly, "Shh, it's okay, Frankie, it's alright," he slowly pulled his cock from Frankie's lips and allowed him to catch his breath, chest heaving. He felt multiple hands petting his hair, stroking his cheeks, thumbing his temples. Someone brushed one of his nipples, pinched it ever so gently and then did the same to the other one.

"Sweet little things," Will murmured, and that answered that.

"He really is a fucking godsend, Pope," Benny breathed, disbelief and awe playing at the edge of his voice, "Softest mouth I've ever felt."

"His eyes are what get me," Santi replied, and Frankie felt him take his cap off and toss it to the side, then a pair of lips kiss his forehead, "He's got the prettiest brown eyes, look so beautiful when he's got that wet mouth all full."

The way they talked about him, like he wasn't even there, like he was just a toy, something to play with, an object - it was so much. It was too much. He leaned back on his haunches and whimpered, eyes fluttering open as he looked up at his friends, still standing in front of him with their now very wet cocks in their hands.

"Put them on my face," he begged, voice broken and haggard, "All of them, please."

"Fuck," Benny gasped out, and without hesitation he placed the entire length of his cock along Frankie's cheek and forehead, tapping it a few times and hissing, "There you go. There it is, baby boy."

"You go around the other side," Santi told Will, knowing he wouldn't want to touch Benny's cock, "Put yours upside down on his other cheek, I'll go middle."

Benny was still slapping Frankie's face gently with his cock, hissing and groaning out words of praise. Santi slapped his own down across the center of his face, along his nose and lips. His cock settled up against Benny's, and for the shortest of seconds Frankie noted that they rubbed them together without speaking, without looking at each other. Will joined them on the other side, his balls hanging low on Frankie's forehead and his tip jutting out near his chin. Three cocks, side by side, covering their friend's entire face.

"Slap him with them, he likes that," Benny said through gritted teeth, doing it again and again and reveling in the whimpers and whines Frankie was making below them, "Ohhh, he fuckin' loves that."

"I don't think I can last," Will spit, voice more strained than it had been before, "This is too much, I'm gonna blow my whole fuckin' load any minute now."

"No one's stopping you," Santi encouraged, "Doesn't matter when we come, what matters is we do it all over his face. Cover him with it."

"Oh, he's gonna be fuckin' drenched," Benny groaned, eyes closing as he stilled his slapping movements to hold back his own orgasm. His voice was wild now, desperate, "I wanna come in his mouth, I call dibs."

"You hear that, Frankie, baby?" Santi murmured with a sly smile, "Benny called dibs on filling your mouth."

Frankie wouldn't have responded even if he could, just let out another whimpering moan and dropped his jaw, lolled his tongue out so his friends could take turns tapping the heads of their cocks against it. He was covered in precum, felt it dribbling down his chin and forehead, collecting behind his teeth and dripping down the back of his throat.

"Let him suck," Will hissed, "Let him suck mine one more time." At his words, Benny and Santi moved out of the way as best they could, Santi tapping Frankie's eyelid with his cock while Benny smeared more precum into his forehead. They watched as Frankie carefully suckled Will's tip into his mouth, closed his lips around him and hummed.

"Put it in your throat, baby boy," Will told him firmly, "Swallow around it, there you go. Thaaat's a good boy."

Gurgling sounds were coming from Frankie's gag reflex but he didn't stop or pull away, kept doing exactly what he knew Will needed as he swallowed him down. It took barely any time at all for it to be too much for Will to handle, and before any of them knew it he was pulling out and pumping his cock furiously over Frankie's face. Benny and Santi stepped back - they all knew what was coming.

"Don't come in his mouth, I called dibs," Benny warned, and Frankie could have sworn he heard Santiago chuckle.

"Keep your eyes closed, Fish," Will muttered, directly in front of him now as the wet sounds of his fist slipping up and down his cock filled the room, "Gonna paint that pretty little face and those sweet little nipples."

Franke whimpered, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to listen to what was going on around him. He could hear Santi and Benny still jerking themselves a few steps away, but Will's grunts and groans were the most prominent, the most present. And only a few seconds later he felt the first splash of cum hit his face - his left cheek.

"There it is," Santi egged Will on, "There he goes."

Another rope of cum landed on his forehead, dripped down onto his eyebrow. Then another on his chin. He listened as Will let out one more groan, still pumping his cock as he aimed at Frankie's bare chest. He felt two more spurts trickle down both of his nipples, sensitive and hard, and that was it.

"Fuck," Will groaned, satisfaction plain as day in his voice, "Fuck, Frankie."

He opened his eyes and was met with Will's cock, tight in his fist. Without hesitation he leaned forward and brought the tip gently into his mouth, licking off the excess cum as Will brought his hand down to play with Frankie's curls. He sucked for a few seconds, placed a soft kiss to the tip - his favorite spot - and then looked up to meet Will's gaze, a dazed little smile playing on his lips.

"Give it one more little kiss, baby boy," Will murmured, "Just one more." Frankie did as he was told, eyelashes fluttering as he kissed the sticky tip once more, and then Will was backing up to let Santi and Benny back into their spots.

"You're a good boy, Fish," he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants. "Mind if I watch the rest?"

"Please stay," Frankie managed to breathe, and the movement of his face caused some of the cum in his eyebrow to trickle downwards, dipping into the crevice of his nose. Will smiled and nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall to observe.

"Won't be much longer now, Francisco," Santi told him softly, shuffling forward to carefully fill Frankie's mouth again with his dick. He watched with fascination as Frankie slowly bobbed on it, like muscle memory as he breathed evenly through his nose. "M'close. I think Benny's close too."

"You look so fuckin' good with all that cum on your face," Benny told him, voice almost pained, "Gonna look even better with more."

Surprisingly, Frankie pulled off Santi's dick without being told to do so and peered over at Benny with hunger in his eyes, "Can you... can I..." he cut himself off, going bright red as he looked back to Santi for reassurance.

"What is it, baby?" Santi asked softly, brow furrowing, "You good? You need to take a break?"

Frankie shook his head quickly, "N-no, I just...I..." he bit his lip and hoped his sudden idea wasn't about to be shot down, "Can you put them both in at the same time?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Fuck," Benny groaned, "Fuck, that's hot." There was no doubt in Frankie's mind now that Benny had quite liked having his dick so close to Santi's, so it made him grin when Benny moved forward to stand beside his friend and jut his cock out toward Frankie's mouth.

"Open up, Fish."

Dropping his jaw once again and staring wide eyed up at his teammates, cum still fresh and sticky all over his face, Frankie allowed Benny and Santi to slide both their cocks into his waiting mouth. The feeling was insane. The taste was insane. All masculine and heady and musky and wet, the smell of sweat and raw sex invading his nostrils as they both pushed their dicks further in alongside each other. Frankie felt two hands in his hair, one of Santi's and one of Benny's, holding him still.

"Oh fuck, I need a picture of this," Benny groaned, blinking furiously as he peered down at where he and Santi's dicks jutted out from Frankie's mouth. "Will, grab Pope's camera, I'm serious. I need to remember this."

As Will made his way to the bunks, Frankie continued to blink slowly and languidly, tongue almost lazily swirling along the fat heads of the two big cocks in his mouth. They were dripping everywhere, warm and sticky, layering the back of his tongue with all of their arousal. And he was so fucking overwhelmed.

"Two cocks," Santi breathed, thumbing a bit of Will's cum that had begun to dry on Frankie's cheek, "Two fat cocks for Frankie, huh?"

"Look at how his lips stretch," Benny added, pushing his cock in the tiniest bit further to watch how Frankie's mouth adjusted to the size, "S'like he was made for it."

"He was made for it," Santi agreed softly, pushing some hair out of Frankie's face and tucking it behind his ear, "Huh, Francisco? Were you made for this?"

Another slow blink and an even slower nod, careful not to dislodge the appendages in his mouth. Benny assessed the door Will had left through and then hesitated for a moment before turning to Santi and whispering, "You feel good, Pope," under his breath.

"So do you," Santi replied with a smile, "Y'got a nice dick."

Benny seemed a bit flustered, avoiding Santiago's gaze as he muttered, "Thanks."

Will rejoined them a few seconds later, Santiago's polaroid camera in hand. Frankie watched with pleasure as Will brought the camera over his head and faced it downwards, preparing the shot.

"Chipmunk cheeks," Will murmured fondly, snapping the picture with a smile, "This'll do great for the annual Christmas card, huh boys?" It was a joke of course; they all knew that what was happening right would more than likely never leave the base, but Santi and Benny laughed nonetheless, pushing their cocks just a little bit more into Frankie's mouth.

"He's full," Benny murmured, "All filled up."

"Not entirely," Santi chuckled, "But close enough."

Their teasing words, their smiles and their laughs, it was making Frankie crazy. His untouched cock was still bobbing on its own accord, twitching and dripping as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. He was going to come soon, he just knew it, and the thought alone made him whine around his friend's dicks, his eyes rolling back.

"Shh, it's okay, Francisco," Santi reassured him softly, "Just give us one more minute to enjoy this, okay? Will's gonna take a few more pictures. You just stay still and keep suckin' on those cocks."

"You got this, Fish," Benny murmured, "You can do it, you're a good boy."

I am, Frankie thought to himself as he closed his eyes and heard the snap of another photo, I am a good boy.

Will took two more pictures with the camera so they'd each have one, tugging the polaroids out as they developed and waving them in the air. This was better than any porno magazine they'd ever be able to stow away, something real and raw, perfect spank bank material.

"I want the first one, where his eyes are open," Santi told Will when he was done, "Calling dibs."

"You got it."

Finally, Benny and Santi pulled themselves slowly out of Frankie's mouth, leaving him nothing but a drooling, lightheaded mess on his knees in front of them. He gasped for breath, head going down as he coughed and spluttered. He felt Will's hands patting his back, helping him through it as his chest heaved.

"Gonna come all over that pretty face, Fish," he heard Benny groan, "Open that mouth again, gonna fill it up."

With all the strength he could muster, Frankie tilted his head up and shakily opened his mouth again. His jaw was sore and aching but he knew he could last a little longer, knew he could give his friends what they needed before he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He watched as Benny jerked his cock in front of his face, watched the way his precum bubbled and spilled at the tip before being replaced with ropes and ropes of hot cum. If Benny was known for anything when it came to their little extracurriculars, it was certainly the ridiculous amount of spend he was able to produce.

"Right in the back of his fuckin' throat," he groaned, watching as it spurted into Frankie's open mouth, "Knew I had perfect aim." He redirected the head of his cock to further paint more of Frankie's face, covering him with thick white all over his cheeks and lips. "Don't swallow it, Fish," he managed to moan out, "Keep aaaall of it in there for me like the good boy you are."

A few more spurts along his neck and chest, one more in his mouth, and then Benny was tapping the head of his cock against Frankie's tongue again, watching as the last few drops spilled out onto it. Frankie peered up at him with heavy lids, a low moan emitting from the back of his throat.

"Yeah," Benny breathed, tapping his tongue again, "That's for you, s'all for you." He pulled his cock out and took a step back, nodding toward Santi, "Go ahead, man. I think he's spent."

"He'll be okay," Santi said softly, shuffling in front of Frankie again and pressing the sticky tip of his cock to the corner of his cum-filled mouth, "Huh, baby? Can you last a little longer? Just a few more minutes for me?" Frankie nodded and he smiled, "Open wide, baby boy."

"Come on, I don't want him to swallow it yet," Benny said a little exasperatedly as Santi slipped the head of his cock past Frankie's lips, the tiniest bit of Benny's cum dribbling from the left corner of his mouth.

"He won't swallow," Santi murmured, "He's just gonna get my dick a little wet." He looked up to share a knowing look with Benny, like a little secret between them, and Benny turned bright red.

At his words, Frankie swirled Benny's cum around the head of Santi's cock, coating it in the salty substance. He gazed up into Santi's eyes as he did it, almost like he was silently whispering to him, pleading; I'm ready now, I'm ready for you to give it to me.

"Okay, Francisco," Santi whispered, just for him, "Lo has hecho tan bien." You've done so well.

He pulled out of Frankie with a pornographic squelching sound and began to work Benny's cum and Frankie's saliva up and down the length of his cock, still staring directly into Frankie's deep brown eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip, brows furrowing as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge.

"Ask for it," he said quietly, edged with something unhinged.

"Please," Frankie breathed, voice garbled and muffled by the cum in his mouth and the ache in his throat, "Please come on me, Santi."

And that was enough.

"Mierda," Santi groaned out, stomach tensing as his thick cock twitched in his grasp. Frankie didn't close his eyes this time, kept them locked onto Santi's as cum drenched his face. It splashed along his cheek and nose in short bursts, dripped down his neck and collected in the corners of his mouth. Without being able to help it, he popped his mouth open one final time to allow Santi to add more cum to the cocktail on his tongue.

"Christ," Will muttered a few steps away, "Would ya look at that?"

"This," Benny sighed, a smile in his voice, "This is what we needed. Fuck Redfly, man."

In any other circumstance Santiago probably would have smacked Benny on the back of the head for disrespecting the team leader, but he was a little more than preoccupied at the moment. He was still staring down into Frankie's eyes, lost in a daze as Frankie tugged him back into his mouth with his tongue and sucked the last remaining spurt of cum from the tip of his cock.

"C'mere, watch him swallow," Santi gestured for the others to join him, and they all resumed their positions in front of Frankie with heavy lidded eyes as they watched him suck.

"Show us first," Benny murmured, "Come on, Fish, show us what's in your mouth, huh?"

Releasing Santi's cock with a pop, Frankie carefully opened his mouth to show his friends the pool of cum swirling on his tongue, dripping down into the soft pockets of his cheeks. Practically in awe, they all stared as he played with it, twisted his tongue back and forth and moving the thick globs of cum from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Swallow," Santi whispered, and Frankie obeyed.

It felt like heaven going down his throat, thick and warm. His eyes rolled a little, tongue darting behind his teeth to lick any that he'd missed, swallowing again and then dropping his jaw to show them his clean tongue, mouth empty.

"Good boy."

They stood there in silence for a moment, almost in reverence. Frankie was a mess, covered in three thick loads of spend and still on his knees with his cock bobbing against his stomach. He was so aroused it was almost painful, the head of his cock pulsing along with his heartbeat as he waited for an order, a command. He whined a little, waiting for someone to do something.

"Untie him," Santi finally told Benny with a smirk, "I think he's ready now."

Ready was an understatement. So much of an understatement in fact that Benny had barely brushed against Frankie's hands to untie the string when Frankie was suddenly letting out the loudest moan of the night, high and unbridled and full of pleasured desperation. Benny practically ripped the string from his hands to turn around and get a better look, watching with wide eyes as Frankie started to come with his cock completely untouched.

It was truly a sight to behold. His three friends stood frozen with their eyes glued to Frankie's cock as it bobbed and twitched of it's own accord, slapped repeatedly against his own stomach and dipped into his belly button. They watched as thick ropes of cum began to spill from his weeping tip, painting his stomach and chest, his chin, the floor. His balls shivered and tightened, more spurting out again and again as he writhed and shook on his knees, making the most pathetic little sounds as his eyes rolled.

Four loads now.

They were all in shock. They'd known he could do it, had felt him come in his pants untouched more than enough times at that point to know it was possible for him. But Christ, they'd never seen anything like it.

The room went silent as Frankie caught his breath, as he came down from his untouched orgasm and his loud outburst. They all watched as his cock continued to twitch with aftershocks, Benny letting out a soft groan when a little more cum dribbled from the tip. And then it was over.

More silence, save for Frankie's gasps and whimpers. And then Will took a step forward.

"Thank you, Fish," he told him earnestly, patting him on the shoulder and squeezing it gently, "That was... fuck. Thank you. You're fuckin' incredible."

Frankie looked up at him through fluttering lashes and nodded with a small smile, and then Will disappeared back to the bunks.

Benny was next. He got down on Frankie's level and came face to face with him, a grin on his face, "You're so pretty, Frank," he told him softly, "And you did so good. S'at what you needed?" Frankie nodded and Benny ruffled his hair a little bit, "Thanks, man. Thank you. We're gonna kill it tomorrow."

He followed his brother back to the bunks, leaving just Frankie and Santi alone together. Just like Benny had, Santi kneeled down to meet Frankie at eye level, picking up his cap along the way and carefully placing it on top of Frankie's head with a smile.

"Did I do good?" Frankie asked him softly, voice hoarse.

Santiago smiled even wider, pulled the cap down a bit further and murmured, "Si, Francisco. Perfecto."

A sleepy and sated grin lit up Frankie's cum-coated face. He could still feel everything, the thick layer of spend on his cheeks and chest, his slowly softening cock, the ache in his jaw - and he loved all of it. It felt right. So fucking right.

"Can you take a picture?" he suddenly asked, eyes alight, "Of me? Like this? I wanna... I wanna keep it. To remember it."

Santi's eyes softened even more, hand coming up to gently stroke Frankie's bare shoulder, "I can do that."

Santi grabbed the polaroid camera, held it front of his face and peered down at Frankie with a fond smile as his friend looked up at him softly, tiredly. "Show me those eyes, Francisco," he murmured, and Frankie halted the fluttering of his lashes to give the camera his ultimate fucked-out expression, a smile playing at his lips. The camera flashed and Santi pulled out the developed picture, waving it in the air as he settled back down in front of Frankie.

"Look at all this," he murmured softly, reaching up to gently thumb a bit of the cum on Frankie's face and scoop it carefully into his friend's mouth. Frankie sucked Santi's thumb with ease, sleepy and docile.

"S'yours," Frankie breathed when Santi pulled it back out.

Santi raised an eyebrow, "Mine?"

"What you just put in my mouth," Frankie clarified with a flush to his cheeks, "That was yours."

"You can tell?"

Frankie nodded with a soft chuckle, "Yeah, I can tell you all apart."

And if that wasn't the hottest thing Santiago had ever heard in his life.

Getting up from the floor was a bit of a task, but Santi helped him every step of the way. He lead Frankie to the showers where he let him lean against the wall, let him bask in the warmth of the hot water and the feeling of soap and shampoo as Santi worshipped him in a different way, a new way. Pressed kisses to his temples and his forehead, took his time lathering Frankie's arms and legs, gently cleaned his coated face and spent cock. And when he was done, Santi wrapped him in a towel and brought him back to his bunk, laid beside him and kissed him slow and deep until it felt like all that existed was just the two of them, nobody else.

He'd placed the polaroid in Frankie's bedside table and stroked his hair, murmured those familiar soft and gentle praises as he drifted to sleep.

Needless to say, their first mission was a success.

You're lying down with him now. It's well past midnight, moonlight streaming in through your bare-bones new bedroom as you peer at him quietly from under your lashes. He looks tired - he's been talking for over an hour now.

"There's more," he murmurs, eyes drooping, "More happened after that, a lot more, but I-"

"You've told me more than enough," you whisper, "You've been so honest, Frankie." Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek, your mouth turning up slightly at the corners when his eyes start to close, "Thank you for telling me about that."

He hums, breathes deeply as sleep slowly starts to find him. You can't help but stare at him, watch his face turn peaceful, the lines in the corners of his eyes smoothing out, his full lips relaxing into a natural frown. He's so beautiful. He's so.... good.

You think of him back then, the way he probably used to be. So unsure, so new to the real world and so close to facing things he'd never anticipated. You picture him lying in his bunk with Will above him, Santi and Benny beside him, Tom somewhere else, somewhere distant - it makes sense now. It all makes sense.

And now he's lying in his own bed, in his own house, years later - with you. You, the only thing you think has really made sense to him for a long time, the only thing that's helped him overcome some of life's worst obstacles, the pain and the trauma from the shit he's dealt with throughout his life.

But despite all of this, despite the past few years you've spent together, you suddenly can't help but wonder where he'd be right now if you hadn't met.

Would he be in Santiago's bed?

You slip out from under the blankets and grab your phone from your nightstand, making sure to turn out the light before heading to the kitchen. Your nostrils are met with the smell of fresh paint and leftover chow mein as you flick on the overhead and settle yourself on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Unsure exactly why, you unlock your phone and scroll through your contacts, biting your lip as you search for Santiago's name. When you finally find it, you tap on it, feeling something odd sink in your heart when you see the lack of messages. You've never texted him? Not even once? You lean back and try to think of the last time you even had a conversation alone with him without Frankie or the others there, just a one-on-one interaction... and you come up blank.

He'd been such a huge part of Frankie's life. And still is now - still sees him on weekends, goes to games and bars, came over to the old apartment for drinks and dinner pretty regularly. He's been there for Frankie in ways you never could have imagined or guessed, took care of him and comforted him, would probably take a bullet for him - hell, he actually might've for all you know.

You look back down at your phone and stare at the blank space where words should be, feel that guilt from earlier rise in your chest and make a home in the form of a lump in your throat.

You start typing out a message.

#frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x triple frontier boys #PPCUGiftExchange2024 #frankie morales x reader #*

[undercoverpena]

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

[alltheirdamn]

alltheirdamn masterlist

Welcome to the ever-growing list of works I'm creating!

Please remember everything is 18+ MDNI !!! Everything will contain SMUT so be advised and read all warnings!!

SERIES:

Mando x f!reader **on hiatus**

Chapter 1 Summary: when you discover a bounty has been put on your head, your future and freedom are on the line. Chapter 2 Summary: Mando finds himself back on Tatooine... unable to let you go. Chapter 3 Summary: You're getting comfortable around Mando. He... doesn't know what to feel. Chapter 4 Summary: It was bound to happen eventually, right? Chapter 5 Summary: Are you strong enough? Chapter 6 Summary: Trust goes both ways. Chapter 7 Summary: Sometimes, the past comes back to haunt us. Chapter 8 Summary: The truth fucking hurts. Chapter 9 Summary: Running isn't always as easy as it sounds. Chapter 10 Summary: Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum Chapter 11 Summary: Din lets you have a little bit of control before saying goodbye. Chapter 12 Summary: Revenge tastes so fucking sweet.

Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader **ongoing**

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach.

Chap. 1: Your Name Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Chap. 2: See me Summary: To be loved is to be seen. You're slowly learning that Joel sees you a lot more than you realize. Chap. 3: Violent Delights Summary: Every ounce of your resolve fades away as Joel finds his way past your walls. Chap. 4: Lost In Moonlight Summary: You couldn't deny Joel any longer. You needed him. Chap. 5: Nevermore Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Chap. 6 Buried Truths Summary: When the past can only be contained for so long, Joel is there to pick up the pieces. Chap. 7 The Past Summary: Memories of the past suspended in time. Chap. 8 Stages Summary: The truth is the hardest pill to swallow. Chap. 9 Act 1, Scene 1 Summary: Time passes, but the memories remain.

LIMITED SERIES:

Mechanic!joel x f!reader

Part 1 Summary: You're on a cross-country road trip when your tires blow, and you're forced to get them fixed at a small-town mechanic shop. When your card declines, you only have one other option to get your car back. Part 2 Summary: After a summer away, you decide to pay a visit to your favorite mechanic. Part 3 Summary: Swear? On my life. Oil Change Drabble Summary: Joel decides to teach you a lesson in changing oil. The Bet Summary: Joel makes you a bet on a night out. The Honeymooners Summary: A destination honeymoon is exactly what you and Joel need after tying the knot.

A series of one-shots inspired by Ethel Cain songs

Crush Jackson!joel x f!reader Summary: After sharing a late-night smoke with a stranger, you let him take you home to his place... American Teenager Neighbor!joel x f!reader *coming soon* Gibson Girl Joel x sex worker!f!reader *coming soon* Western Nights Biker!joel x f!reader *coming soon* Lilies Dom!joel x sub!f!reader *coming soon*

Corrupt Dark!Preacher!joel x f!reader **DUBCON** Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. *please read tags/warnings*

Couch Chronicles Frankie Morales x f!reader x Benny Miller Summary: When you accidentally tell your boyfriend, Frankie, that you think his best friend is cute... he makes a plan.

#masterlist #alltheirdamn

[agirlcandream84]

Frank Discovering He Bruised You During Your... Activities.

Back with another Frank drabble. What can I say? Frank + Angst = Comfort. I'm imagining when Frank discovers that he's rougher than he realizes.

Frank Castle x Reader

----------

If he was honest with himself, Frank had noticed you seemed to be moving a bit more tenderly than usual. He asked you about it this morning when he saw the way you lowered yourself on the couch, wincing just a hair when your body made contact with the cushion.

"You ok there sweetheart?" he asked, with his brows all screwed up.

"Oh yeah. Just went hard on the Peloton or something," you respond not meeting his eye. You hadn't even ridden the Peloton that week but if Frank had known that the sheer force of him the night before had left you tender and swollen, he'd be beside himself. And it's not as though you wanted it to stop anytime soon. So you had decided to keep it your little secret. Hiding the bruises blooming on your inner thighs were gonna be another challenge altogether.

When dinner rolled around you were out of your work clothes and into your comfy clothes-- Frank's old T-shirt and your comfiest cotton shorts. Frank had just made a pot of his spaghetti and you were both planning a night of carbohydrates, wine and Love is Blind.

"Grab the wine glasses, will ya doll?" Frank calls over his shoulder as he plates the spaghetti. You open the cabinet where they're kept and let out a tiny huff. Top shelf. This burly man was always putting items on the top damn shelf. Either he was height-blind or he liked seeing you struggle.

You lift one knee onto the countertop and reach your fingers toward the stem of the glass. Straining as your fingertips wiggle, your big toe the only part of you left on the floor as your ass sticks out and you grunt for the glasses. Franks hears your struggle and turns around, walking over the the cabinet.

"Right, I forgot you're a shortstack," he chuckles, his body enveloping yours from behind as he reaches with ease to the glasses. His hands land on the swell of your ass as he steps back to admire the view-- your one knee still propped on the counter, tiny shorts hiked up.

Bruises on your inner thighs made visible.

You instantly see the smile drop from his face and his fingertips land feather-light on your inner thigh and he squats on one knee.

"Shit sweetheart, you're hurt," he says softly. 'You get all this from the Peloton or somethin'?" he asks, looking up at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Uh, I.. yeah, I think so," you mumble, dropping your knee from the counter and tugging your shorts down. Frank remained on one knee and placed a hand on your hip to keep you in place, his other hand touching the blooming bruise on your other leg.

"Sweetheart... did I ... did I do this to you?" he asks, disgust creeping into his voice. It was the reaction you were desperate to avoid. Frank's self-loathing was always rippling under the surface, easy access.

"Frankie I bruise easy. I have my whole life. This is noth--" you start to ramble. Talking to make his guilt go away. It had taken so long for him to be vulnerable again-- to let you in. You weren't letting anything set back the clock.

"Sweetheart this ain't nothin'" he cuts you off, "I fucking bruised you. Like an animal." Frank was always so comfortable hating himself. He drops his hands from your body and stands, a sharp breath through his nose and he swipes his hand down his face.

"Frankie it's nothing. I mean it," you tell him, eyes pleading for him to crawl back from his self-loathing.

"Why didn't tell me? Why didn't you tell me I've been hurting you?" he asks, the anger at himself seeping in through the edges.

"Because I.... I---" you stammer, unsure how to stop this runaway train. Pleading in your head "no, don't pull back."

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, misinterpreting your hesitation, his self-loathing dripping off every word. Like he was disgusted to exist in his own body.

"Because-I-don't-want-anything-to-change!" you blurt out in one garbled word. "I don't want a single thing to change! I don't care about the dumb bruises! I love the way you make me feel! Just stop. Stop pulling away. I can't go back to that time. I can't go back to you killing yourself on the streets every night" you shout at him, pleading and grasping at anything to just get him to hear. To understand.

"Hey hey hey," he says, hands up in supplication before landing them on your shoulders. You lean into him and slow your breathing as he shooshes you, broad circles rubbing your back. You stay like that a few moments. Neither of you speaking.

"I know, ok? I know how hard that was for you. I'm not... I'm not gonna do that again," he assures you. You nod your head against his chest, muttering a thank you. "I don't like hurting you though sweetheart. It kills me to see those fucking bruises on you," he adds.

You pull your head from his chest to look up at him. "I know... but I just want you to make me feel good,'' you practically whisper, hands digging into his shirt in fists. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, letting your body melt into his.

"Fuck sweetheart," he huffs, lifting you gingerly as he carries you to the bedroom, promising to make you feel good.

-------

ok lol got that out of my system.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castK #frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader She’s the Man AU

Summary: inspired by she’s the man, with a few changes

Warnings: Chad’s a bit of a jerk but nothing else really

WC: 9.3k

Author’s Note: sorry for any mistakes. Hope y’all enjoy:)

"What?!"

"Sorry girls but I can't really do anything about it."

"But we win more games than the boys do!!"

"Yea what the fuck why aren't they the ones getting cut."

"What?! No you don't, you guys just face other girls that don't know how to play."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn't believe you dated him. To be fair you had been sexually confused for a long time. Battling your inner self to be true to who you were. Frankie was your ex boyfriend and you honestly wanted to slap yourself every time you looked back at that relationship. You honestly didn't know what you were thinking.

"Oh really you guys haven't won a game since like what freshman year?" You backfired. "Can't even win a game against the schools rivals, Woodsboro Panthers." The boys in front of you glared at you knowing that it was always a touchy subject. The team had always been sore losers.

"I'm sorry girls but we have to practice unlike some people." The couch and the boys laughed as they walked away.

The girls team was left standing on the field feeling a mix of emotions. You were beyond pissed and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

*

You had been walking home, your music blasting in your ears. You had been extremely bummed out, your dream had always been to play soccer in the big leagues. Wanting nothing more than to play with your idols. Couldn't really do that if your school doesn't have a girls team. You would have to transfer to another school that does have one but you'd doubt that your parents would let you. The closest school would be Woodsboros, but they also didn't have a girls team.

The sudden pull of your jacket had you stumbling back. "Ah what the hell!" You turned around taking off your headphones. Only to be faced with your brothers girlfriend.

"Anthony-Oh ew it's you."

"What do you want Sherrie."

"Where's your brother. When you see him tell him to call me."

"What's the number, 1-800-BIYATCH." You laughed to yourself.

"Whatever. Just tell him."

You laughed as she walked away and went into the house.

*

"Wait what do you mean you're leaving?" Your eyes followed your twin brother (although you didn't really look that much the same, there was similarities but you were a bit taller then he was. And the much better looking twin) he was moving back and forth from his bag and his closet.

"The band got booked to perform in fucking London. Can you believe that?"

"London?  As in London England? Wait, what about school. Don't you start next week?" You were sat on his bed strumming his acoustic guitar.

"Oh right, I wanted to ask if you can cover for me. You know, use that mom voice of yours and I don't know  make a call or something." He closed his bag and packed one of his many guitars. Once he was finished he looked at you with a smile.

"Wait, what about mom and dad?"

"One of the ups of having divorced parents. Mom thinks I'm with dad. Dad thinks I'm with mom. And they both hate each other too much to call each other." Throwing two of his bags out window, followed by his guitar.

"And what about your girlfriend? I don't even know why you date her."

"Cause she's hot, it's a guy thing. Well, I'll see you in like two months, maybe more." Anthony smiled and left through the window.

"Anthony!"

"Oh were you talking with your brother?" The sudden voice of your mother startled you.

"Uh yea, on the phone. What the hell is that?" You used the horrendous dress that your mom was carrying as a way out. If clearly worked when your mom beamed down at you.

"It's your dress. For the-Ugh mom." You groaned, knowing what she was going to go on about. "I said I'm not doing it. There's no way I'm putting on a dress. Literally the last time I wore one was when I was two. I'm not doing it." Standing up and putting your brother's guitar away.

"I don't know even know why I keep trying." She said as she walked away. You rolled your eyes and stood up. Looking into the mirror. Your brothers picture to the side. You picked it up and held it up. You never understood how you were related to him. Let alone a twin. You truly never looked alike. You were a bit taller than he was. And honestly stronger as well.

"Well if you can't beat them. Join them."

**

"Ha. You're funny." The hairdresser laughed. Kirby shook her head as she continued to cut her clients hair. Looking back at you, only to stop laughing. "Oh you're not kidding. Wait you're serious."

"Yea come on Kirb, I have a point to make. And I can't do it if you don't help me. Quinn, Anika back me up." You looked back at your best friends.

"Yea come on Kirby. The coach and the whole school in general think that girls can't do half of the things boys can do. They kept the stupid boys team and they don't even win!" Quinn spoke, she was still heated on the matter. Although she didn't have the same dreams as you, she still wanted to support you.

"Yea Kirby, they even got new uniforms and lockers for the boys team. A losing team might I add again." Anika voiced from your side.

"Come on Kirby please." The three of you spoke simultaneously.

The elderly client butting in. "Yea come on Kirby."

With a laugh Kirby laughed and nodded. "Fine."

*

"Damn. You make one fine ass man." Quinn whistled when you stepped out. You so badly wanted to scratch your head. The wig was something you'd have to get used to.

"Shut up. Do I really look like a man?"

"Yea one hot ass man." Anika joked as she stood next to you, reaching up to fix your wig. Quinn laughed from her seat as she ate her popcorn.

"Okay. Now we got the walk. The talk. Tomorrow you start. Remember be confident. You got this. We got all the paper work ready, oh and also. Remember to respond to the name Anthony. Anika literally tried to get your attention using your brothers name, and you didn't listen. Cause you have to get used to it." Kirby said as she got some of the popcorn from Quinn.

"Okay. I got this. I got this."

**

"I don't got this. Take me back. This was a stupid idea. Don't you ever let me come up with any more ridiculous ideas ever again. I can't believe you actually listened to me. You never listen. I can't believe I came this far. Well it's far enough. Take me back-Y/n stop!"

"Relax. You got this, now suck it up and get your shit together." Kirby handed you your bags and pushed you towards the entrance of the school.

You gulped and took a deep breath in trying to calm your nerves. With a look of encouragement from Kirby you made your way into the school.

*

Going into the boy side of the dorm rooms had been everything you expected and more. It was literally your worst nightmare come to life. The smell alone was enough for you to want to turn on your heels and leave. A mixture of body odor and a tone of axe spray. But you had to do this. You now had a point to make and you were going to make it.

You've never moved so fast to make it to your dorm. Slamming the door shut once, the relief of being in the safety of your room was washed away when you felt eyes on you. You were quick to straighten up and eyes wide as you looked at the three boys.

Clearing your throat, remembering to deepen your voice. "What up. Y'all must be my roommates." Nervously fumbling with your keys.

"Uh na I'm your roommate Chad. This is Ethan and that's Wes. They live next door."

You nodded as you put your bags down. Trying to swallow the anxiety that you felt coming up your throat.

"Yo what's your name?"

You turned around to look who was talking. Wes sat on the window seat playing with a ball.

"Anthony Y/ln, so you play the beautiful game bruhs, bros? Brothers?" You had tried to remember how boys talk but at the moment your mind was going blank.

"Yea, Ethan midfield and Wes plays defense and I'm a striker. What about you?"

"Center Midfield."

You cleared your throat as you got unpacked your bag. Taking out your boots, only remembering the tampons you shoved into the boot when Chad pointed them out.

"Dude why do you have tampons?!"

"Uh. I get really bad nose bleeds?"

After the horrifying and embarrassing display of you shoving a tampon up your nose. You were left with a big sense of regret. As the boys laughed and mocked you.

*

So far it's been alright.

That's a big fat lie. So far it's been hell. Things are horrible. The first try outs were today and man. You'd think it had been your first time playing. You had always thought you were great at soccer. It was a sport you loved. You had played it for the longest time. Now you wouldn't go and say you were horrible but you had a lot to learn. Especially since you made it on to the second string. That had been disappointing.

"Good job boys. Nice work, for the second strings don't feel discouraged. You are just as much on this team as the first stringers. Now go hit the shower. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Coach Loomis spoke before leaving to his office.

Showers?!

Crap! How could I forget about the freaking showers?!

You tried to think of any possible reason why you wouldn't be able to. You'd didn't really want to see anyone naked. Let alone a bunch of immature boys. But the closer you got to the boys locker the more you were starting to panic.

"Y/LN! Principal Riley wants to talk to you. So get a move on." Coach yelled from his office.

You had never felt so much relief like you did this moment. Never moving  so fast to get out of a room before.

*

The talk with the principal had been one of the weirdest and most awkward talks you had ever been in. As you walked out of the office you felt your body collide with a smaller body.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" The sudden action causing your voice to come out normal before you could even realize. Moving to help pick up the books the shorter girl dropped.

"It's okay."

You looked up, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. The girl in front of you was so, beautiful. Completely gorgeous. The faint freckles that littered her face, made you want to count every single one. Her dark brown eyes, were so mesmerizing that you could get lost in that pool of dark chocolate. Her small smile had your heart hammering in your chest. The dimples that appeared had to be the cutest things you had ever seen.

"Uh here's your books." You cleared your throat deepening your voice, the smile that she directed your way was enough for you to almost go weak to the knees.

"Thanks. You're the new transfer student, right? I'm Tara."

Tara. What a beautiful name. You returned the smile, "Y/-Uh Anthony. It's nice to meet you Tara." You held out your hand for her to shake, at the sound of her giggle, your smile grew just a tad bit. But the moment her soft, small, warm hand was in yours it was like your hand was made to hold hers. At the sight of her blushing cheeks, you pulled your hand away, clearing your throat.

"Well it was nice to meet ya Tara. I have to go and do some, guy stuff. Uh I'll see you around." With a nod you were quick to walk away. Part of you hoping you'd run into the Tara again.

*

"Dude this is not working. Who knew making friends as a dude could be so hard. Not to mention that I'm starting to smell. Kirby how could I forget about the showers. My roommate is a bit of jackass and-Alright take it easy. I can help you with the making friends situation and the shower problem. Let me just get the girls I've got a plan." Kirby cut you off before hanging up, not giving you a chance to respond.

"Kirby? Hello? Ugh, I hate when she does that." You mumbled. The past two days of being a 'man' have been a little bit harder than you had expected. Your roommates along with his friends are bit of jerks and clearly didn't want to be around you.

It wasn't long till, Kirby showed up with Quinn and Anika. Who had bright smiles on their faces. You hurried to get in the car. "Oh I've miss-oh wow you stink." Quinn cut herself off, pulling away from you.

"Don't remind me. Now what's your plan?"

*

With feeling fresh and clean, you walked into the restaurant with a new found confidence. You knew at least half of the students and soccer team were in the place at the moment. It was great for Kirby's plan, 'Make friends plan'. Her own way of making friends for you was well, "the boy way". That's why she had brought Quinn and Anika.

"Fuck here comes Anthony. Spread out so it looks like we don't got room." Chad nudged Ethan to the side as they spread out in the booth. It wasn't like he hated the guy but since the tampon moment in their room. He wasn't in a rush to make friends with his roommate.

"Oh my god Anthony Y/ln! Oh my god I've missed you so much."

Chad was pulled from his conversation with Ethan to see a red haired girl. She was hot.

"Quinn. Hey baby, how you doing?"

Chad couldn't understand how someone like Anthony could have girl like this one. The guy was weird. He acted completely strange. But here he was with this hot girl. Eyes widening a bit when the girl lightly kissed Anthony on the lips before leaving. He heard Ethan chocking on his soda when yet another girl, just as hot, called out to Anthony. The way this dark haired girl refused to let him go. Only leaving when Anthony slapped her butt.

"What the fuck? Did those two just talk to Anthony? Him?" Wes spoke in pure disbelief. There was no way. Seeing a hot brunette coming his way. He took his chance. "Hey there pretty lady."

"Ew. Are you talking to me?"

"I was just- Yea sure let me make it clear, girls with asses like mine don't talk to boys with faces like yours."

The two teammates shared a look, trying to hold in their laughter at the face Wes was making. The one of pure embarrassment.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend Anthony Y/ln."

The three boys jaw dropped in disbelief.

*

"Fuck it's your brothers girlfriend. Don't let her get too close or she'll recognize you." Kirby had spoken so quickly you barely had time to understand before you heard Sherries obnoxiously loud voice.

"Wait what?"

"Anthony!"

"Oh fuck uh be gone you craziest-" You felt a small sense of fear as you tried to dodge Sherries attempts to get to you. You had gone as far as using a stack of pizza boxes to cover your face. "Can't you take a hint. If I don't answer your phone calls or your texts. It could only mean one thing. We are done!"

Sherrie had acted like you expected. Leaving with scream of anger and most likely embarrassment. You were relieved on the other hand. Your cover was not blown. You heard the cheers and even felt the acceptance of your schoolmates.

"Dude that was awesome."

"You're officially my idol."

"Make room for the man."

*

Like Kirby had predicted. The plan had worked. You had the "respect" of your teammates and the school. Although you kinda felt a little bad for Sherrie. Even though she's been nothing but a bitch to you. You also didn't stink that was good. You had gotten used waking up super early in the morning. Getting the showers to yourself.

"Hey Anthony."

You turned at the sound of your brothers name. That was also something you kinda got used to. Being addressed as your brothers name and not yours.

At seeing who called for you, it had you smiling in a way you couldn't really control. "Tara hey. How are you doing?" You faced the shorter girl. She returned the smile as she looked up at you.

"I've been good. I haven't seen you around the past week. How's the school treating you." Tara had tried to see Anthony around the campus. But the campus was huge. She hasn't even got a glimpse of Anthony which was extremely disappointing.

"Oh it's been something else. I like the campus though." You looked down to what she was holding and it was stack of what you could clearly tell were heavy books. You reached for them without really realizing that you were. "Let me help you with those." You didn't really give her a chance to decline before taking most of the books.

"Thank you. But you didn't have to." Tara could feel the warmth coming from her cheeks. She could only hope that Anthony couldn't notice.

"It's okay, now what are you even studying that requires you to carry so many books." At sound of her laugh you smiled, her laugh was so sweet.

"Oh I've been transferred out of my class into another. Apparently I was too smart for that class."

"Nice, a smart girl." You teased smiling in satisfaction when you saw her blush. "No but seriously, aren't you running for class president?"

"Yes, I'm been elected to run. It's nothing." She looked away from his gaze. Her own mother had been dismissive of her achievements. She hated the feeling of being a disappointment. She's tried not to let her mother's words affect her but, it's her mother. The harsh words are bound to have an affect.

"Are you kidding? That's great, you were elected, which that alone is awesome. Don't sell yourself short. But don't worry future Ms.President. You have my vote." The smile you got in return was something you'd cherish. You hated how sad she had looked for a just a second before the look was gone.

"Thank you. That means a lot. Well this is me." Never had she felt so disappointed to arrive to her class. She had wanted to keep talking to Anthony. The way he acted around her was in a way no other boy has. He didn't treat her like she was just a piece of meat, like she was just some type of trophy he could show off to his friends. He was different from the other boys in school. "I'll see you later?" Hoping her voice didn't come off as hopeful.

"Of course. Later Ms.Future President." With a small bow you handed her books and walked away. Smiling when you heard her laugh.

*

Arriving into your biology class was something you weren't looking forward to. You hated cutting open any animals or anything that was once alive. Taking a seat as your roommate and his friends took a seat in front of you. The boys becoming your friends was also something new. Ever since that day at the pizza place your popularity had grown.

"Dude I keep forgetting to ask. But how long did you date that girl?" Chad asked as he took a seat in front of his roommate.

"Too long-Alright pick a name out of the bowl and who ever you have will be your lab partner for the rest of the year."

Taking one of the pieces of paper from the bowl you unfolded it. Smiling at the sight of the name. "Tara Carpenter." You looked up, searching for your brun-the brunette that was becoming your favorite. Eyes connecting with the beautiful chocolate eyes. Oh how you loved chocolate. Seeing the smile on her face as she looked at you. Sending a small wave.

"Dude you know Tara Carpenter? Switch with me." Chad couldn't help the small sense of jealousy at the way the girl he liked was looking at Anthony.

"Yea and no cause I said her name out loud." You gathered your things and moved to table Tara had moved to. Placing your bag on the table as you sat down. Leaning forward just bit.

"Hey Tara. I gotta be completely honest with you. The whole dissecting thing freaks me out, so I think you're gonna have to take the reins on this one." You whispered to her. Hoping no one else heard you.

"Wow I don't think any other guy would have admitted to that."

"Crap, you're right." Your eyes widen as you looked down at the paper with a cut open frog. The feeling of wanting to barf came strong.

"No no. It's okay. I got you. I'll take the lead." Tara wanted to wipe the frown on his face. It was such an adorable look but she also wanted to comfort him, so she reached for his hands, taking his hand into hers. His hands were so soft. Not like any other boy's hands she's touched. The warmth and softness of his hands made her want to hold on to them longer.

"Uh no papers from other classes on the table." A boy you e never seen before said, paper was pushed in between in your face and Tara's. Seeing the color of the paper. You quickly tried to grab it but Tara was quicker.

"Oh what's this poems?"

"Lyrics. They're hi-my my old stuff."

"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be. And I don't wanna go home right now."

You sighed in relief, realizing it was a song you wrote for your brother to sing. He wanted a romantic song and your were such a sucker for them.

"This is really good."

The way she was looking at you had your throat in a knot. Feeling like she could read your mind by the way she was staring intensely into your eyes.

*

As you walked out of the classroom you were pulled by the back of your shirt. "Dude what the fuck Chad!" Pulling your shirt from his grip.

"Anthony my guy. Did you tell her anything about me?"

"Who Tara? Was I supposed to?"

"Come on man. You could convince her to go out with me."

He looked so serious you couldn't help but laugh. "Dude you've been going to school together for, how long? I don't think she likes y-Come on! If you help me. I'll help you train to make first string for the rivalry game."

"Wait what? Seriously?" You were good, but apparently not good enough to make first string. And you had something to prove. You couldn't be distracted by anything. Not even a pretty brunette. It wasn't like Tara liked you.

"Okay, I'll tell her all about Chad Minks and how he's a great dude. But I won't force her."

"You're the man Anthony!" Chad cheered, this was going to work. He knew as much. He just needed someone to sweet talk him up to Tara. Then he would be the hottest guy dating the hottest girl in the school.

*

Training with Chad was fun. The more you trained with him. The more if felt like you were getting better than before. The love you had for game had always been big. Always trying to improve your self in how you play. With Chad's help you were a whole lot prepared and skilled during practices.

As for helping with Tara. It was coming along. Well the best it could without sounding pushy about the situation.

"So when can you let me read the rest of that poem?"

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of Tara's voice. You tried to avoid the frog that was cut open in front of you.

"Poem? What poem?" You teased, smiling when she squinted her eyes at you.

"Ugh you suck. I'm going to get you to read it to me one day. You just watch."

"Now, I heard from your friend Amber that you like someone."

"What?" Tara felt her eyes widen. She was going to kick Amber's ass when she sees her. Amber wouldn't tell him, that she liked him right? The feeling of her heart racing as she watched Anthony write down some notes before looking right at her with those soft y/ec eyes.

"Yea, is it by any chance Chad Minks? Cause I've seen what the way he looks at you. I mean I can see it."

Seeing the disbelief and was that disgust? You weren't sure. Reading people wasn't something you were really good at.

"Chad?"

"Yea."

"No."

"Yea."

"No! I mean he's good looking and all but he's just not the guy for me." Tara had tried to like Chad. He was what most girls wanted at the school. But every time she looked at him, she felt nothing. Chad was just like every other jock that has tried to get into her pants. Only wanting her for her body. She had seen how Chad was with Liv. Liv had been so in love with Chad. But the moment Chad got bored he left Liv. Liv had been left heart broken. Tara had gotten used to blocking out any guy that had tried to hit on her. Most of the guys (if not all of them) had always succeeded in making her extremely uncomfortable.

"Hmm I don't know maybe there's more to him than you think there is." You hated yourself for even bringing it up, you could tell this conversation was annoying Tara.

"So he's not just another dumb jock, who wants to get in my pants. So he could tell his friends but is too-Insecure to treat you as an equal?" You understood how she felt. It wasn't long you were also dating a dumb jock.

Tara looked at the taller boy in shock. Never had she met someone, let alone a boy, understand what she had felt. Seeing him agree had honestly left her feeling baffled.

"You know you are the first guy at this school who hasn't tried anything with me."

You felt you cheeks heat up as you cleared your throat, "Oh uh I'm not really looking for another relationship. Just got out of one that was a bit, hard I guess? You're a great friend Tara. You're actually the only person in this school I feel comfortable around."

Even if she felt a bit more that just disappointed that he only saw her as a friend. She offered him a smile. "I feel the same way about you." Her vocie coming out softer than usual. Looking into those beautiful y/ec eyes. It was enough for her to get lost in them. Even if he only saw her as a friend. She could work with that.

"Good, and just take my advice. Chad's a pretty cool dude, get to know the guy."

"I'll consider it." She was most certainly not going to. She watched as the soccer player tried to focus back on the task at hand. The cut open frog they still had to be dissected. The cute grossed out facial expression on his face was too cute for her to ignore.

"So what's that exactly?"

"Uh I think that's the spleen." A small noise of acknowledgment was all she got in response before she saw Anthony fainting and falling to his side. With a chocked laugh she was quick to check on him.

*

"I honestly thought you were joking about the dissecting thing freaking you out this bad." Tara couldn't hold back her giggles as he finally woke up. She had been worried at first. But the more she remembered the face the soccer player made, the more she couldn't help but to laugh.

"Ugh." You sat up, realizing you were now in the nurses room. You felt a little warm inside to see that Tara was sitting next your bed. Wondering if she was sitting there while you were out cold.

"How are you feeling? Down to dissect more frogs?" This time Tara couldn't help the full belly laugh.

As much as you tried to keep a straight face, a smile made its way to your face. You really liked the sound of her laugh. Her smile, the dimples you liked so much being on display. "You're so mean."

Tara brought up her hand to cover her mouth. Trying to control her laughter. "I'm sorry."

She looked utterly beautiful. The sun coming from the window shined on her like if she were an angel. All you wanted was to kis-Uh oh. No. No you couldn't be falling in love with Tara.

You couldn't.

*

"Yo! You okay? I can't believe you passed out over a cut open frog." The laugh that followed was nothing like Tara's.

"Yea whatever. But I've got you half way. She's considered going out with you." You flopped on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Falling in love was not part of this plan. You couldn't for many reasons. One being the most obvious, YOU WERE A GIRL! For starters. You were a girl pretending to a boy, pretending to be your brother. Tara was obviously straight. And if you did show any signs of liking her, it would be misleading. You were a girl.

Tara was straight.

"Wait really? So should I go ask her out?"

"What? No!" Trying to ignore the jealousy you felt coursing through your body. "You don't want to freak her out."

"Ugh I hate the waiting game. I've been waiting for the past years. Since 6th grade. That’s five whole years. You have no idea how long I've wanted to, to date her. She's the hottest girl in the school."

You narrowed your eyebrows at your roommate. You won't deny that Chad is a great soccer player. He was outstanding on the field. And he was nice enough to help you out to make first string. But other than that you weren't really sure why he was so eager to be with someone who clearly didn't like him back.

*

"Wait what do you mean? You think he doesn't like you?"

Tara groaned into her pillow. As much as she enjoyed being with the taller soccer player. She couldn't ignore the small little voice in her head telling her that Anthony didn't like her back.

"I don't know Amber. He's not like any other boy I've ever met before. He hasn't even flirted with me. Not even once!" She chose to ignore the laugh coming from her best friend.

"What? There's no way. Every guy here has flirted with you at least once." Amber has watched for the past days how this guy had her best friend hooked with just his presence. She won't deny the guy was kinda good looking. But there was something about Anthony that was making her sexually confused? Amber was a proud lesbian. There was no denying that, but she had gone soooo long without finding any boy attractive. Not even when she was little. But now Anthony Y/Ln was a first. Now she didn't like him in that way like Tara did. But there was something about him that was familiar. She just couldn't seem to know what.

"Wait really?" Come to think about it, Amber has not seen Anthony flirt with any girl at all. Every time she saw him he it was always either during class (which he did really pay attention to) and then during the soccer practices. "Wait you don't think he's gay do you?"

That thought had never even crossed her mind. The thought of Anthony being gay had her sitting up straight to face Amber.

"What? No! There's no way-I mean, I don't know. Oh my god let it be me to fall for a guy who could possibly be gay." She groaned even louder as she covered her face with her hands. If Anthony was gay, she would have to move on. Or she could just ask. He did have those two girls at the pizza parlor. Not to mention that crazy ex. But if that were the case. Maybe he's bisexual. Or just now gave up on the girls and just wants boys now.

Ugh. It was just her luck.

*

"What's up Anthony."

You looked away from your open book. You had finally gotten away from Chad and his friends. A moment of peace away from those boys was what you desperately needed. They were rowdy and fun but you could only take so much before you wanted to pull your hair out.

"Sup Amber. How's it going?" Amber was Tara's best friend. You liked Amber. She was always putting Chad in his place when he tried to flirt with Tara. It was always a funny sight.

"Eh it's going but I gotta ask you something." She moved to sit next to Anthony.

You closed your book and looked at the shorter girl. "Sure what's up." You moved to grab your water bottle to take sip.

"Are you gay?"

The water burned as it went up your nose, you spluttered out wet coughs as you tried get your breathing back to normal. You took the napkins Amber offered you. "Jesus Amber. No I am not gay." Well you were. And as funny as it would be for these students to believe your brother Anthony was gay, you weren’t that mean of a sister.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" Amber did not feel convinced for the weirdest reason. She just couldn't put a finger on it.

"No not even a little bit. Why?" You let out a chuckle once you had your breathing under control and you were no longer chocking. Gay?

"Well can you blame a girl for asking." So he wasn't gay, Tara did have a chance. Amber couldn't help but to feel excitement. Mingling is something she was great at.

*

You hated being here, carnivals. Absolutely hated them. Clowns were literally your worst nightmare and those things were everywhere. Not only did you hate clowns. But you absolutely hated that you had to change from being you to your brother. So you opted to just staying as you for the remainder of the day.

"Wait they thought Anthony was gay?" Anika asked again once she was finished laughing.

"Anthony gay? Girl he is as straight as they come." Quinn laughed as well, the girls along with Kirby had arrived at carnival before you did. You mom had called the moment you arrived and said you were signed up for the kissing booth. Part of you had never felt so offended and angry. You were not going to be kissing no strangers. No matter the cause before hanging up.

"Any cute girls there?" Kirby nudged your shoulder as you walked around. Noticing the blush on her younger friend. "Oh so there is. What's her name?"

"Stop. There's no-Liar! Come on. Tell us." Your two best friend nudged and pleaded to know. You rolled your eyes although you were smiling.

"There is on-" You were cut off by someone bumping into your body. You were able to catch them before they fell. "Oh I'm sorry."

At the sound of the voice, the voice that sounded awfully familiar! Tara furrowed her eyebrows before looking up at the person. Only for her eyes to widen in shock. The girl standing in front of her looked exactly like Anthony. Almost like a spitting image. "Do I know you?" She couldn't help up to ask.

"Uh no. I don't think so. Sorry." You moved to walk around Tara. As much as you wanted to talk to her as you and not Anthony. You couldn't, not without blowing your cover. You were quick (but not too quick to make it weird) away.

Kirby and the girls were quick to follow you. Noticing Anika sharing a long stare with one of the girls. "Oh my god was that her!" Speaking once she was far away from the short girl.

"Would you shut up, and yes that's her." Your cheeks flushing at the teasing grins that were looking your way.

"Dude she's cute!" Quinn shook your shoulders in pure excitement.

"You should totally try to get w-No, she's straight. And I don't know if you know this but I'm a girl." You shook her head, continuing your walk only to see Chad and Frankie fighting. You were quick to run to the scuffle. Trying your best to pull the two dude's away from each other.

"Frankie stop!"

Chad turned around at the voice, opening his mouth to say something he had been momentarily distracted enough for Frankie to hit him. Making Chad stumble into you. You caught him right when the security showed up. Quinn and Anika pulling you away before you could get in trouble.

"Hey are you okay?"

You were standing to the side, after being yelled at by your mom. It wasn't even your fault but you let her yell at you. The girls had gone to get food while you waited. The sound of Tara's voice you looked towards her. She offering such cute shy smile.

"Uh yea I'm okay. Thanks for asking." You murmured, you weren't sure why you felt so shy now. Maybe it because you weren't sure if Tara would like you as Y/n and not as Anthony.

"Are you related to Anthony Y/Ln by any chance?"

"Yea he's my twin brother."

"Wow you guys are crazy alike. It's almost uncanny. How do you know Chad?" Tara couldn't get over how you looked so much like Anthony. Ever since she bumped into you earlier that day. She couldn't stop thinking about you and Anthony. She had always been comfortable with her sexuality. She had always said she was bisexual. And right now was a good example why. Anthony. He was so charming, so sweet and just so funny. Honest. You. You were honestly the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Yea we get that a lot. I'm Y/n." Sticking out your hand for her to shake.

"Tara." Tara took your out stretched hand. Your hand taking hers in a gente but soft shake. She looked down at your hand, it was awfully the same as Anthony. Down to the same softness that she has grown to like.

"Damn that guy who beat up Frankie was kinda hot, wasn't that your brothers roommate." Quinn asked as she wrapped her arms around yours, interrupting whatever was happening between you and the short girl. From the corner of her she was able to see the same girl that had bumped into you looking right at you. Maybe that girl wasn't as straight as she seemed. "Hi I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you. I should go back to my friends. It was nice meeting you Y/n." She couldn't stop looking at you, she hoped that it wouldn't be the last time she saw you. A past of her also feeling a bit of disappointment seeing the red head being so close to you.

*

"Dude, what? What's on your face." You spluttered with your words at seeing the tampon up Chad's nose. Part of you wanted to laugh.

"Oh this? Yeah I grabbed one of your." He pointed to the tampon as he got up. "And they actually work." He took the bloody tampon out and threw it away.

"Dude what happened?"

"Well turns out the dude I fought was your sister's ex. And man she looks just like you. It's kinda scary. I mean I have a twin but we don't look that alike. She's kinda hot. Is she single?"

"Eh we get that all the time. And yea she is but she's gay."

Chad's shoulder visibly deflated. "Damn."

"I thought you liked Tara?" You narrowed your eyes slightly. Hoping it wasn't noticeable.

"I do. But I can admire another woman. And your sister is hot. Can't believe she dated a douche bag like Frankie." He didn't even do anything to the guy and Frankie had just lost his cool. And Chad wasn't one to back down.

"Yea, everyone gots at least one person they regret dating." You laid on your bed. Remembering how Tara finally met you as your true self.

*

"Hi Anthony." You looked away from your homework to see Tara sitting down in front of you. You were once again in the library.

"Hey Tara. How was the carnival yesterday?" You closed your book, focusing on the way Tara was looking at you. She had the same look of when she was studying something. In this case she was studying you. Which was making you quite nervous. "You okay tar?"

Seeming to be snapped back to reality. Tara nodded, "Yea sorry. It was fun. Why weren't you there?"

Shrugging in response, "Crazy ex showed up and wouldn't leave me alone so I just ended up leaving."

"Mmh, I didn't know you were a twin." Tara couldn't get over how much Anthony and his sister looked alike. It was truly uncanny. It was like she was looking at a man version of the girl she saw at the carnival.

"Oh you met Y/n? How was that?" You wanted to know what she thought of you.

"She was sweet. We didn't talk long, her girlfriend showed up."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yea this pretty red head."

You let out a laugh. She thought you were dating Quinn. You love Quinn she was one of your best friends. "Oh you mean Quinn. No that's just my sisters best friend."

Having a weird sense of relief, she wasn't even sure why. She had just met you. Why did she feel jealous. She had no reason to feel this type of jealousy. "Oh. They just seemed close."

"They've been friends since they were in diapers. They've just had a close bond since like forever."

"That's sweet..Wait didn't you kiss the red head?!" The memory had been shoved right to the front of her brain.

"Oh...yea. Uh.." Think faster!! "That was more of a friendly kiss? Quinn was just trying to help me break up with my girlfriend at the time. Sherrie was-is crazy. She was also kinda of a bitch to Y/n."

At the mention of that girl being mean to Y/n. It had her feeling, protective? You had looked so nice. Your soft y/ec eyes held some type of warmth. She wanted nothing more than to talk to you again.

*

"Y/LN!" You jumped up from the leg press machine. You had been working out with Chad for the past hour. The game against your school was less than a week away. And you have been training hard. The practices have been a lot more easier now that you knew how to play like a man. Chad had been a great help.

"Yes coach?"

A jersey being thrown at you. You looked down at the jersey. Your last name stitched on the back of the jersey along with a big number name below it. You felt your eyes widen in shock and excitement.

"You're first string for the rivalry game."

"Really?"

"No I was joking, you idiot." Coach Loomis said sarcastically before walking away.

You couldn't contain your excitement. Jumping up and down. "Yes!" Chad laughed as he shook his head.

"Congratulations man."

*

"Oh I know. Ask out Chad, like in a friend date. But don't let him know that, do it in front of Anthony. See how he reacts." Amber looked at Chad and Anthony from across the gym.

"But I don't like Chad."

"Which is why it will be a friend date. But you'll tell him that on the date."

Tara debated the plan. She really liked Anthony. His personality, his attitude, the way he was around her. It was so refreshing. So pure.

"Okay."

*

You couldn't stop smiling. All your hard work was finally paying off. Your point that you were trying to make was almost done. Wanting finish your workout before calling the girls.

"Hey Chad."

You both looked up to see Tara in all her glory standing there. Looking at Chad.

"Tara! Hi."

You could tell that he was nervous. With a quick look from Tara. You sent her an awkward thin lipped smile. Hoping Tara couldn't tell how jealous and dejected as you seemed.

"How about we go out on Friday."

But she did. She could see how the happy glint in his eyes faded as soon as she mentioned the date. She watched as Anthony turned around fiddling with his phone.

"Really?! I uh mean. Cool. Yea cool I'll see you Friday."

*

You hated yourself for feeling so jealous. You hated it. You had no right to feel jealous. Tara was straight and clearly giving Chad a chance. You had to focus on the bigger picture. So you tired to do that.

Staying late at the gym before the big game tomorrow. You didn't know how long you were until you saw the time. Figuring you needed some good nights rest before the game tomorrow. With a quick shower, you made your way back to your dorm room.

You had expected for Chad to be home so quickly. You were sure he would still be out with Tara.

"So are you gonna tell me the truth?"

The truth? You looked at Chad wide eyed. Did he know that you weren't a boy. You were sure you had been good at hiding your true self. Maybe your wig had fallen off while you were sleeping.

"Uh truth?"

"Yes the fucking truth."

He seemed angry, well you assumed he had a right to. Maybe he felt a little weirded out that girl has been rooming with him for a while.

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth. But just know that I did this cause I had to prove something. I've always loved soccer and-What so you use me to get better at soccer and then what steal my girl."

You were confused now. What on earth was Chad talking about? "Wait what? What are you talking about?"

"Dude stop lying I saw you!" Chad knew he may have been overacting. First he was a bit mad and disappointed that the date hadn't gone as he had hoped. The date had been so awkward and he had just felt so uncomfortable, and top off the date Tara had told him she didn't like him in that way. When he had seen Anthony, his so called friend kissing Tara. He had felt so betrayed and extremely jealous.

"Saw me do what?"

With his anger at an all time high. He had pushed Anthony out of the room without any further explanation. Slamming the door in Anthony's face.

"What the fuck?" You were left confused. With no where else to sleep you walked away towards the library. Hoping that it was open.

*

"Yo Anthony! What are you doing here?!" Jumping up from the chairs you had pushed together in a form of makeshift bed. "The game is about to start."

This had you almost tripping over your own two feet as you ran out of the library towards the boys locker room. Confusion taking over as you saw your uniform was gone. Fumbling with your phone hoping to find some answers.

Tony: thanks for unpacking my things and making my room. You're the best sis

Tony: why did you sneak tampons in my drawer. Jerk

"Fuck."

**

You could only watch from the safety of hiding under the bleachers as your brother destroyed all your hard work. He truly was a horrible athlete. It was like watching a baby trying to walk. If anything a baby could probably play better.

Sighing in relief as the whistle blew out signaling the ending of the first half. Watching as the coach Loomis spoke to your brother. Banging your head on the metal. Your brother walked past the bleachers and you took this opportunity to yank him under the bleachers.

"What the fu-Y/n?"

"Dude what the hell are you doing?" You punched his arm, he was supposed to give you a heads up before coming back.

"Ow! Me? Why are you dressed like me?"

"Ugh I was trying to prove to our old school that a girl could be just as good as any boy on the damn team. Can you believe they cut the girls soccer team and not the boys?"

"Wait what? But the girls team win more games?" He knew how much you love the game. There was never a game he would miss when you played.

"Wait, what are you even doing here?"

"Oh!" Remembering what had happened last night. "There was this girl. She kissed me. And even though it was only a second cause when she pulled away from me and looked at me like I was stranger. But I came to look for her cause she was hot."

"That's what Chad was talking about." You mumbled to yourself. "Give me back my uniform. And stay hidden.”

*

“Wait what do you mean you kissed him?” Amber asked as she looked away from the game. Half time had just started and it looked like Anthony was being given another chance. She had never seen someone play so horribly. It was almost laughable.

“Yea I did.”

“Then why do you sound disappointed? Shouldn’t you be happy, you have been crushing on the guy for a while now.” She looked back at the match. The second half time hasn’t started yet.

“I don’t know. I felt nothing. He usually makes me feel so much but last night, it felt weird like I was kissing a stranger. His lips weren’t as soft as they looked.” She didn’t really remember seeing his lips last night. But she remembered seeing those lips everyday. They had always looked so soft so kissable. The lips she kissed last night were not soft.

“Well I’ve seen him practice and he looked great during practice. The way he was playing in the first half, it might as well have been a stranger.” Mindy spoke up from her spot. There was no way Anthony was playing like newbie when he had trained so hard to make first string.

Quinn, Kirby and Anika shared a look. They were sitting behind the three girls. Maybe the short girl wasn’t as straight as they had assumed.

*

The second half was going a whole lot better than the first half. With you scoring the first goal with the help of Ethan. The stadium bursting out in cheers. The score now being 1-0.

You could still fell the hostility coming from Chad. He refused to look at you, going as far as to not even passing you the ball. This caused him to lose the ball. Leading your old school to score. Tying the game.

“Dude come on I know you’re mad but let’s put that aside for the next forty minutes.” You made the mistake of placing your hand on his shoulder. This caused him to push you away.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Chad come on-” you were pushed again before Ethan and Wes held him back.

“Do you two little princesses have to step off or something?” Hearing your ex’s voice was not what you needed. Hearing his obnoxious laughter along with his teammates was almost ruining the happiness you felt. “Do you ne—Y/n?!”

You didn’t want to look at him. Cause now you were for sure made. The dream you had of proving yourself was burning down. With a heavy sigh you turned around. Seeing Frankie’s eyes widen in shock. Knowing the act was over. You took off your wig. Hearing gasps from literally everyone.

“You’re a girl?!” Chad asked no longer angry. He couldn’t believe he just physically pushed a girl. And his push hadn’t been gentle.

“Yea sorry about the lying, I had a point to prove.” You moved your gaze towards your coach. He had his arms crossed.

Hearing the laughter coming from Frankie and his teammates, even his coach had laughed. “You can’t play with a girl. It says in the rule book.” The coach said smugly. This was when coach Loomis stepped up. Taking the book from the other coach.

“What rule book? Here in Woodboro we don’t discriminate. Based on gender.” Coach pointed his finger at the other coach’s chest. And you knew it hurt based on how the other coach stumbled back and how rubbed the spot.

“Alright then. You think you can beat us with a girl on your team. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

With a wink being shot your way by Coach Loomis you smiled excitedly. You couldn’t believe he was going to let you play. You quickly put your hair up in a ponytail so it wouldn’t be in your face. You were now more confident more comfortable.

*

Winning the game had been everything and more. The way Frankie had run off crying was so funny, extremely hilarious actually. You had been told off by your parents like you had expected but you could tell they were proud. Especially your dad.

You also watched as Chad was being down talked by your brother. Probably telling Chad off for pushing you earlier.

“All this time you were Y/n?” You turned around to see Tara standing there. She had not looked mad or anything. It was more a of curiosity.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know it was misleading and wrong. For that I’m sorry.” You fiddled with your fingers. Upon hearing laugh you looked up towards her. Her smile brighter than before.

“Are you kidding? If anything I need glasses. Cause wow. Also sorry for kissing yesterday. Kinda thought you were her.” Anthony walked back to his sister and the hot girl, although a bit dejected he was happy you were happy. He had never seen you so happy yet nervous at the same time. By the way Tara was looking at you. He knew she felt the same way. With a dismissive wave he smiled and walked away.

“So? You’re not mad?”

With a shake of her head, she took your hand in hers. “A little bit, but that’s because I was so sexually confused, then you came along and I’ve never been so confused. Now I’m just hoping you feel the same.”

With the smile of your own you grinned back. “I’ve never felt so sure Ms.President.”

With a giggle of her own she wrapped her arms around your neck and brought you down for a long awaited kiss. Now these lips were soft. These were the lips she had been dreaming about. The feeling that had been absent were now there and going crazy. Just like she had wanted.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!!” Amber yelled. There had been no way she found a boy attractive. Especially since she had the biggest crush on her best friends sister. But that wasn’t relevant.

:)

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader #x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #she’s the man au

[endlessthxxghts]

Need You

Husband!Frankie Morales x wife!afab!reader || W/C: ≈5k

Summary: Tío Santi comes to the rescue when Frankie confides in him about how the two of you have been way too busy for one another.

Warnings: Crazy events of Triple Frontier don't happen; let's just give these guys some happiness. Instead of coke, Frankie’s drug is you (LMAOOO). No “y/n.” No physical descriptions of reader (besides clothing choices), she looks like you😏 and big strong man Frankie can carry you <333. Reader knows a bit of Spanish. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Slow and sloppy😵‍💫. Breeding kink. Domestic kink (they get really spurred on calling each other husband and wife/esposo y esposa). Possessive kink. Daddy kink (but in the sense that reader just loves seeing Frankie as a Dad and wants to give more babies to parent!!!). Pussy slapping... Cum play/eating. Vaginal fingering/fucking. Squirting. Slight Dom!Frankie (he just really wants to hear his wife beg for his cum!!). Mentions of shower ✨activities✨. A lot of love basically — physically and emotionally. Extra warning for the parents who can’t leave their child with other people — Tío Santi takes their baby out to eat and get treats; she’s in good hands, I promise!!!

A/N: Husband Frankie is rotting my brain bad. Especially girl dad!Frankie. My ovaries are screaming. So here's this little 5k bad boy I whipped up. This is very much a porn with a bit of (yummy domestic) plot. Hope y’all enjoy. Thank you to my sweet sweet bae @javierpena-inatacvest for proof-reading this and hyping me up since it’s my first Frankie story to be posted! I love you so much 🥹🥹💚 (edit: someone had a comment about why Isa is amorcito instead of amorcita, so in case you had that question as well, read my explanation here!)

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Querida, I’m home!” Frankie called out. 

“In Isa’s room, baby!” you responded. 

Santi tagged along on his treck home today, offering to take Isa out for lunch and sweets after Frankie told him how both of you have been crazy busy lately. He helps himself to the kitchen while Frankie makes his way to you.

Frankie lightly knocks on the door before entering, gasping out in delight to earn a bubbly reaction from his three year old daughter. “Ay, mi esposa (my wife),” he exclaims, giving you a soft kiss to your lips. He looks to his daughter and grabs her from you, “y mi amorcito (and my little love),” he says, throwing her up in the air, coaxing a few more giggles out of her. 

He sets her back down to play with her toys, and Frankie turns to you, pulling you in for a proper hello. Your lips slot against each other in a needy embrace, still as reserved as you two can be with your child in the room. He pulls away first, arms not leaving your waist. “Hi, mama,” he says with an adoring smile. “Hi, honey,” you respond, heart still skipping a few beats as if it’s your first time meeting him. He guides you to outside the doorway, closing Isa’s room ajar, so you both are out of her view.

“Santi’s here,” he tells you. “He offered to, uh, take Isa out to get food and some dessert,” he adds nonchalantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s been three years since your baby was born, and still you’re always reluctant to leave her with others. It’s not that you don’t trust the people you leave her with, it’s the fact that if anything were to happen — Gods forbid — you wouldn’t be able to be there, to comfort and protect her. 

Your eyebrow raises in response. He squeezes you tighter into him, ducking closer to your ear. “And I was thinking,” he kisses the sweet spot near your pulse point, “we could take some time for ourselves?” He continues kissing and nipping at your neck, uttering a small please baby as he makes his way back to your lips. 

Little did Frankie know, you didn’t need any convincing at all. You were just about ready to drop her off at your parents as soon as he got home from work today. You don’t tell him though. You like hearing him be a little desperate for you. 

His hand skates lower to your ass, the other hand making its way to cup your front. “It’s been weeks, baby, I need to taste her,” he says, damn near a whine. 

You grab both sides of his face and pull him into a searing kiss. “Go pack her bag,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, making your way to Santi to give him the rundown. 

In record time, Frankie packs Isa’s go bag in under five minutes: diapers, extra change of clothes, baby wipes, baby Benadryl, and some of her comfort snacks just in case she’s extra picky today. He picks up his baby, assessing if she needs a diaper change — she’s dry — and heads to the kitchen. “Wanna hang with Tío Santi today, mi amor?”

Her face lights up, and she squeals, “yes, daddy, pleeeeaaase!” 

He chuckles, his heart warming at how much she loves his best friend, his brother. 

He and Isa enter the kitchen to you giving Santi the rundown on her allergies. 

“We exposed her to all the major allergens already and no reactions, except for peanuts — she gets a little red, so just watch out for that. There’ll be Benadryl in her pack just in case.”

Santi gives you a salute, “Sir, yes, sir.” 

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “One more thing,” you say as you go to kiss your baby goodbye. “Usually I’d ask if you could send pictures throughout the time you’re gone…” you look at Frankie. 

Santi smirks, knowing where this is headed. 

“But you don’t have to. At least for today,” your face remains composed, but the heat spreading across your cheeks exposes you. 

“Got it. No peanuts,” Santi says, reaching for the bag off Frankie’s shoulder and the keys from his pocket, “and no interruptions,” he winks at you both. “Let me know when you guys are ready for us to come back,” he looks to his beautiful niece in her mother’s arms, peppering her with goodbye kisses. 

“Vamanos (let’s go), mija!” Santi says, prying her out of your arms. Frankie reaches to give her one last kiss on her forehead, and they’re out the door. 

As soon as the front door clicks shut, Frankie is on you in an instant, too riled up to wait until you’re in the bedroom. He needs you badly, and he needs you now. He’s caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter, lips on you like he’ll die tonight if he doesn’t touch you. Your lungs are burning for air, yet you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s too addicting. Too much time has passed without the pleasure you two bring one another, so you’ll sacrifice one survival need for another. 

Before you know it, his hands are at the base of your ass, lifting you to the kitchen counter, and his lips are dragging down your jaw, your neck, and into your cleavage, nipping every little exposed place your cropped tank allows him. His hands are at the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down as he brings himself to his knees. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he takes a deep breath in. His eyes are impossibly darker, demeanor turning animalistic as he feels just your sweats alone and no underwear. He gets a view of your already glistening pussy, and he can’t help the growl that leaves his throat. 

He settles his hands under the globe of your ass and scoots you to the edge, your thighs finding solace on his shoulders. You immediately lean back on your elbows, knowing the moment his mouth is on you, your body will go weak at his touch. 

Without any warning, his tongue licks the entirety of your leaking seam, hands automatically gripping you tighter as the taste of you hits his tongue. The sound that leaves you sends shivers down his spine, his cock painfully hard and leaking in his jeans. He licks you a few more times, letting his drool drip down his tongue and spread all over you, making you a soaking mess of your arousal and his spit. 

Once you’re drenched to his liking, he dives right in, face completely flushed against your sex, sloppily sucking and licking into you, hitting all the right buttons to make you see fucking stars. By his hands or his tongue, he still knows how to steer you in the direction of the most beautiful constellations, even if they are behind your eyelids. 

“Frankie, fuck-!” you yell out, your inhibitions automatically down with the fact that the house is left to the two of you. Frankie’s hips involuntarily buck into nothing at your moans, missing the sounds you always made for him. Ever since Isa was born, both of you made a conscious effort to work on your noise levels — especially you. You were the most vocal he’s ever been with, and fuck if it didn’t make him all the more whipped. He almost forgot what your sounds do to him. Almost. But now that you’ve given him a taste again after so long, he needs more. 

He circles your clit a few times and sucks it, hard. He pulls off with a lewd pop, his dominant hand leaving your ass and making its way to your entrance. You’re such a fucking mess that his two fingers slide right in, giving you the extra push Frankie needed to pull more heavenly moans and whimpers out of you. “Let me hear you, mama,” he says, tongue circling your clit as his fingers work you to the edge. “Sing for me, baby,” and with what little strength you have, you force your head forward to watch his ministrations, and the sight is what sends you falling first. Frankie’s mouth is wrapped around the entirety of you, eyes dark and on yours, his hooked nose rubbing against all the right places while his arm muscles ripple as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. 

“Shit- oh, fuck-” you whine out, your head like a bobble head, too heavy to maintain upright. Frankie curls his fingers just right, and-

 “Oh my God, Francisco, oh my God!” Your hips are bucking into his face, his own strength unable to keep your hips down with how hard your orgasm is hitting you. He lets you ride out your wave on his face, drinking every last drop coming out of you. 

His fingers are out of you now, Frankie immediately cleaning them in his mouth, not wanting to Iet any of your sweet syrup go to waste. Your chest is heaving, eyes clamped shut, and your body is entirely limp. Frankie stands to his full height, and he’s pulling you up to sit up straight, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He chuckles a little. “Still with me?” 

Your torso loses its strength momentarily, and you almost fall back. His arms immediately wrap around you, supporting you to maintain your upright position. You laugh at yourself, a blissed out smile gracing your face. He feels his heart flutter, just as strong as when he first met you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, you monster,” you lightly laugh, resting your head on him. “God, I love you,” your voice slightly muffled from burrowing yourself into his chest. 

His one hand leaves your back and wraps itself around your jaw, bringing your lips up to his. You can taste yourself on him, and you can already feel another fire being lit deep in your core, your arousal dripping onto the kitchen counter as your lips continue with his. 

You pull away, breathless, ready for more. “Take me to bed, baby.” 

“You sure you’re ready now?” He smirks. 

“Keep teasing, and I won’t let you cum inside of me, big boy.” 

His lips find yours again in a bruising manner, a growl leaves him as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. “Last I checked, you were the one begging for me to fuck my cum so deep inside you that it had no other option but to latch on. If that’s what you want again, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” 

You whimper in response, your spurt of dominance dissipating immediately. 

“That what you want, baby? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it.” 

Your eyes are glossing over, too pent up with a fertile need to get your brain to come up with any kind of response. His grasp on your jaw tightens, his lips ghosting yours as he talks. “Tell me you want my cum, baby. Tell me you want me to fill you up so fucking full of me.” 

“Yes, baby, fuck, I need you. I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me. Please, you’re such a good daddy, I wanna give you more, please,” you ramble on. His mouth is on you again in a sloppy embrace as he picks you up and guides you two to your bedroom. 

He sets you down at the edge of the bed. He guides your shirt off, then his. He pulls back for a second and shucks his bottoms off, giving you a complete view of his tanned and toned naked body, his little tummy a little soft around the edges. Your pussy is crying at the sight. 

You don’t waste anymore time as you settle yourself to the center of your bed, your legs already falling open with muscle memory. Frankie licks his lips at the sight. Part of him just wants to go down on you again, but the way his cock is screaming at him for release and your pussy is clenching on nothing—yeah, his oral fixation can wait. 

He settles himself in between your legs. His hands are grounded into the pillow beside your head as your legs automatically hook around his waist. He rubs his length across your wetness, you mewl for him as he lets his tip drag across your clit. 

“Baby, please,” you whine. 

“I’ve got you, baby.” 

His tip breaches your entrance. God, you’ve missed him so much, and you tell him exactly that. 

His lips are on yours, never really satiated with the amount of kisses he takes from you, “I fuckin’ missed you so much.” He pushes deeper in. “God, my beautiful wife, I love you so much,” he breathes out as his lips graze your temple. 

His hips are flushed with yours, your hands secure themselves around his neck. “Please, baby, let’s never go this long again, I need you so bad,” he rasps. He’s pulling out again, his head kissing your core. “Need you always,” he says as he pushes back in, maintaining a slow but hard rhythm.

You pull him impossibly closer into you, your hands grasping and feeling him anywhere you can reach. You rock your hips to meet every push and pull of his own, lips ghosting each other with each movement, your eyes threatening to roll back at how entirely full you feel. 

He’s taking his fucking time with you tonight, fucking you slowly into the mattress, harder with each thrust, reveling in sound of your pussy each time he pushes in, and he can’t help the way he smiles into the sloppy kisses and shared breaths. 

You’re a complete mess, tears falling from your eyes at how addicting he feels mixed with the pure love you have for this man. You really don’t even register what you’re babbling about, but that doesn’t matter. Frankie’s in heaven listening to a mixture of your drawn out moans, the occasional Lord’s name in vain, and the repeated I love you, baby, I love you so much.

One of his hands drag down to your clit, rubbing clumsy yet perfect circles, forcing your dam to finally break. He’s completely soaked in you and so are your thighs and the bedsheets. Your fall is slow but all-consuming. Your back arches into him, your nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, and the feeling is the final push that sends him painting your walls white. 

His hand leaves your swollen clit and wraps itself around your lower back, helping you maintain your arch form as he continues rocking himself into you well into his softened state. He can feel your body start to tense out of overstimulation, so he finally pulls out of you, leaving you a leaking mess of both your and his cum. He sits back on his hunches, his fingers drawing circles on your inner thighs, just admiring the sight until his cock begins to stir again. 

“Jesus, Morales,” you giggle breathily as you clocked the jump of his length.

He leans over you again, giving you a sweet, lengthy kiss as he begins to slide himself off the bed. “What can I say, baby? I’m insatiable with you,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. 

He heads to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a chilled glass of water for you. “Drink up,” he says.

Before he makes it to the en suite bathroom, he adds, “I’m not done with you yet, mama.”

Despite the sensitivity down there, your pussy flutters at his words, craving him down there in any way shape or form.

He returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up as best as he can with your second round of slick and his endless load of cum pouring from you. He sets the cloth down somewhere on the floor and situates himself up against the headboard. He wordlessly guides you to lay between his legs, your chest resting against his. 

“Wanna check on Isa?” Frankie asks, albeit a little shy. You smirk a little, knowing you’re usually the one to cave first. You make grabby hands at your phone on the nightstand, nudging Frankie to grab it since his wingspan is much larger than yours. He hands it to you, and you immediately dial Santi, hitting the speaker button as it rings.

“Hey, Santi.” 

“Hey, Mrs. Fish,” you can hear him laugh at his name for you. Frankie also gives a little laugh. He thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever said during your guys’ wedding reception. He calls you that more than your own name now. 

“How’s it going?” you try to ask in an unconcerned fashion. Santi knows you both all too well to know that isn’t the case. 

“You know you two didn’t have to quit just to check on her, right? Tío Santi knows how to distract! Also, tío Santi knows how to put her down for a nap!” He says proudly.

“I believe you, Santi, don’t worry. Just checking. Frankie just kept bugging-” 

Before you could continue your sentence, Frankie’s hands immediately go to your sides, hitting all your ticklish spots. You scream out, a loud stream of giggles leaving you. 

“Coño, por favor, not while I’m on the phone!” You hear Santi say. “Sorry, Sorry,” you say, still out of breath from Frankie’s merciless attack. 

“Actually, Santi, can I ask another favor?” 

Frankie looks at you confused. You smirk at him. “Is tío Santi prepared for his first sleepover?” His confusion fades and immediately his eyes are consumed with pure lust, his soft brown eyes turning black. 

Santi is silent for a moment. “You two are downright feral, you know that, right?”

You stifle a laugh. “Ay Dios mío (oh my God),” Frankie mutters. 

“As long as I get another niece — or nephew, I really have no preference — in nine months time…” Santi trails off in thought. “Then I’d dedicate every damn weekend to her,” he says. 

You turn your head around and up to meet Frankie’s eyes, both of you in shock at Santi’s silent invitation, silence fills the air for a moment before you finally bring yourself to speak. 

“Oh? Alright, then,” you softly say. “Thank you, Santi, you’re the best. We’ll text you, okay? Bye,” you hang up, not giving Santi any chances to return the call-ending formalities. You and Frankie are still looking at each other, eyes wild at the proposition before you. 

“Every weekend, huh?” Frankie says, breaking the tension first. His head dips down to place a kiss where your neck and shoulder meet. 

You suck in a breath, arousal forming faster than a strike of lightning. “Mhm,” you barely get out. His hands are roaming your body now, your phone thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, long forgotten. He places his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you open and keeping them atop his own legs, so he can hold you open. His one hand is spread largely over your lower belly while his other hand is already teasing your core. 

His finger circles directly on your clit, you yelp in response, your body twitching. “Every weekend, I’m gonna get to fuck my wife, huh?” Frankie says into your ear. “Gonna fill her full of me?” Your hips buck at the huskiness of his voice, of his possessiveness over you. Your response is incoherent, more of a moan than anything. Next thing you know, your room reverberates with the noise of a wet slap. 

He spanked your pussy. The sound that escapes your throat is beyond arousing, Frankie’s cock back to life, dripping on your lower back. “Answer me properly, baby,” he says again, softly. His fingers are circling your clit again, forcing more of your wetness out of you, his cum from earlier still seeking its place on your bedsheets.

“Mmm, fuck-” you breathe, “Yes, yes, every weekend, baby,” you’re nodding your head frantically as you try to keep your eyes trained on his actions down below. “Every weekend you’re gonna make me so full,” you whimper, “Gonna fuck a baby into me, daddy, I need you so bad.”

He slides two of his fingers into you at your words, his hips grind into your back at the feel of your warmth, of his spend keeping you nice and wet. His fingers pump in and out of you at a languid pace, his fingers arching in a come-here motion to beckon more of his cum onto his fingers. He pulls out of you momentarily, analyzing the mess he’s made. “Open, querida,” he whispers, likely in a trance at the sight. 

You open your mouth, tongue out and ready. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you lap up his salty spend greedily, as if it were the sweetest of syrups. You taste a distinct tanginess on his fingers, most likely the product of your own arousal. Your eyes fall shut at your taste, eyes feeling heavy and too blissed out to stay open. He pulls out of your mouth with a pop and grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He pulls you in for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot. His hand leaves your face and returns to your core. His fingers are back inside you, pushing in and out as his palm grinds perfectly into your clit. Your hips are moving in tandem, providing you with the perfect rhythm to soak him all over again. His lips never break from your own, tongues dancing in a way only you two get to know. 

Your hand seeks purchase at the back of his neck, tugging at the base of his curls, taking away his opportunity to break away from you. He moans into your mouth at the sharp sensation, your lower back a sticky mess from how much he’s leaking onto you. 

Finally, you break away, lips still connected by the thinnest of spit lines. “Baby, I- I’m gonna cum, shit-”

Frankie lets out a growl, desperate to have you fall apart on him. He maintains his same pace, adding a bit more pressure of his palm to your clit, his other hand pushing harder down into your belly, knowing how crazy the stimulation drives you. “Give it to me,” he mumbles in your ear, his heavy breathing fanning across your cheek. “Need it, baby. Need you,” he whines. 

“Fuck-!” you yell out, head pushing harder into his shoulder, eyes clamping shut and forming white, blinding fireworks beneath your eyelids. He fucks his fingers in you as you ride out your high, tears letting loose as your pussy squirts into his hand and all over both your bottom halves. 

The sight transforms him into a cumming mess, the only stimulation being the friction from your backside as he rutted into you. You don’t notice the warm wetness between your bodies until your body falls completely limp against him, breathing still heavy but slowly returning to normal. Frankie bejewels your face with sweet kisses — from your temples to the edge of your shoulder that he can reach — as you slowly come back to Earth. 

You look up at him now, a soft smile spread across your face. His heart stutters at the sight. You shift your back a little. “Did you…?”

“Yes, I did,” Frankie admits way too quickly, embarrassment flooding his face. 

You pull him into one more kiss before you start to get up. “Come on. Shower and then we eat,” you tell him. “You didn’t get to settle yourself down after work,” you add, slightly scolding him for his impatience yet also silently thanking him. 

“I can always eat in the shower,” Frankie adds suggestively, his eyes giving your body a once over as you stand beside the bed, waiting for him to get a move on. 

“Morales!” you gasp out. “Bad,” you say, shaking your head from side to side. 

“You know it’s gonna happen, mi amor (my love),” he says as he stands, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth. 

And it does happen. He makes you fall apart on his tongue twice, and you pay him back by reducing him down to jelly legs as you fuck his cum down your throat. By the time you two actually start your shower, the water is completely cold, not one drop of hot water available. 

Post-shower, you two cook a fast, simple meal, too eager to be on each other again, but too aware of how important it is to give your body sustenance in order to continue with your feral behavior. You only get a few hours of sleep that night. Falling asleep after each round only to wake back up a horny, dripping mess just to fuck again. You don’t remember the last time you two did something like this, but damn were you two needing it. You made a mental note to thank Santi for his much needed offer.

The next morning you wake up at seven, the first sensation you feel for the day is your sore pussy, red and puffy as she begs you to give her a break. You look at the knocked out man beside you, give him a kiss on the forehead and break away from his hold, bringing yourself to the bathroom. You take your phone with you. 

[07:13] Just woke up. Drop Isabela off whenever you’re ready. 

[07:15] God, no wonder she’s up already. She’s got your early ass schedule. 

You laugh to yourself, picturing Santi a half asleep man child as your daughter crawls all over him, forcing him to get up, too. What Santi didn’t know was that it was actually Isa’s schedule that you were on. 

[07:16] Pobrecito (poor thing). :( 

[07:16] She’ll probably be asking for Frankie soon. She always cuddles him in the morning. 

[07:17] Yep, she just did. I’ll feed her some breakfast now, then we’ll be on our way. That good, Mrs. Fish?

[07:18] If it’s good with little Fish, then it’s good with me. 

He sends you a thumbs up, and you set your phone down. You wash up and get ready for the day. 

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you head to Frankie’s side of the closet and grab one of his soft, cotton tees to throw on. 

You head to the kitchen, your first course of action being to fire up the espresso machine. Espresso is the only form of coffee you drink, and soon enough, Frankie followed in your footsteps. Just as you suspected, as soon as the smell of the beans filled the air, Frankie appeared in the kitchen. His sleepy eyes and sexed out hair on display nearly cause your knees to buckle, your aching pussy betraying your want for a lazy morning. 

He makes his way to you and kisses you, soft and slow, probably needing a lazy morning just as much as you. “Good morning, mi esposa (my wife),” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. 

“Mmm, good morning, mi esposo (my husband),” you smile up at him. “Sleep well?”

“With the sleep that I did get, I’d say yeah,” he says. “You really tired me out, hermosa (beautiful),” he adds.

You pull him down for another kiss. You’ll never tire of the feeling. “Waffles?”

His eyes light up, a boyish grin on his face. “Yes, please.”

Around 8:30 as you and Frankie finish your waffles, the front door is unlocking. A little girl with crazy hair comes busting in, running straight for the both of you to pull you guys into a tight group hug. 

“Mommy! Daddy!” she screams.

“Mi amorcito,” Frankie responds, matching her energy. “Mi niña loca (my crazy girl),” you squeal. “I missed you so much!” you add. 

You and Frankie kiss each of her cheeks, sandwiching her little face. 

“Did you have fun with tío Santi?” you ask.

“So much fun, mommy! We had ice cream for break-”

Before she could finish, Santi chimes in. “O-o-okayyyyy, Isa!” he claps his hand once. “Why don’t you bring this to your room,” he hands her a tiny gift bag — probably the product of some shopping they did — “while I talk to mommy and daddy?”

“Okay, tío Santi!” She takes the bag and makes her way to her room. 

Your eyebrows are raised in mock scolding as you wait for Santi to explain himself. “Hey! In my defense, those puppy dog eyes are a killer. I couldn’t say no.”

The three of you break out into laughter, Frankie going in for a hug, clapping Santi on the back as he releases him. 

“Waffles?” you offer Santi. He graciously accepts, making his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, helping himself. 

“So-” you and Frankie say at the same time. Santi pauses his actions mid-bite. 

Frankie nudges you to speak first. You clear your throat to ease the awkwardness in the room. 

“So,” you start again. “Were you, uh… were you serious about watching Isa?” you ask?

“Every weekend?” Frankie adds. 

You giggle, nodding an affirmative at your husband. “Yes, every weekend?” 

Santi finishes the bite he paused on, and sets his waffle down. “You dirty dogs!” he says. 

“Pope, come on,” Frankie’s palms go over his cheeks that are currently turning red at Santi’s teasing. 

He lets out a laugh. “Sí, cabrón (yes, asshole),” Santi says, slapping Frankie’s shoulder.  “Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for both of you, and especially that demon of a little girl.” 

Your heart warms at Santi’s sentiment. You’re beyond grateful Frankie has a best friend like him. 

“On one condition,” Santi adds, his eyebrow quirked up.

“Anything,” you say eagerly. Frankie nods his head in agreement with you.

“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need another sobrino (niece/nephew).”

You and Frankie look at each other, your stares saying everything they needed to. Yeah, Santi didn’t need to worry about that. 

And you were right when the next Saturday morning, a month and four tío Santi sleepovers later, you and Frankie presented Santi with your pregnancy test displaying two pink lines.

End note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

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