a whole bunch of gazan mutual aid projects and nonprofits. if the decision of which individual fundraiser to give to feels too daunting, or if you just want to help as many people as possible in one go, these are great initiatives to support.
care for gaza - focuses on providing food and essential supplies. donate here or here.
connecting humanity - securing internet access via donations of virtual sim cards (esims). if you can't afford a whole plan yourself, crips for esims is a communal pool that will use your donation to purchase and maintain esims
gaza soup kitchen - provides food, medical care, and classes for children. also has a gofundme
glia gaza medical support initiative - provides medical care through field clinics and tents at hospitals. donations can also be sent through their website.
ele elna elak - provides clean water, food, clothing, and shelter. they also have a gofundme
life for gaza - raising money for the gaza municipality to repair water and waste management infrastructure
taawon - partners with local civil organizations to provide food, water, medical care, shelter, and basic supplies
the sameer project - running various initiatives providing tents, medical care, and necessities. they have their own encampment project focused on sheltering families with children, sick and disabled members, or members in need of perinatal care
islamic relief worldwide's gaza emergency appeal - provides food, water, hygiene kits, medical supplies, and psychological support
baitulmaal - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, shelter, and medical supplies
gaza mutual aid fund - distributes food, hygiene products, water, and other essential supplies, including financial support. run by @/el-shab-hussein's amazing friend Mona. updates can be found on her instagram.
hygiene kits for gaza - provides hygiene supplies including menstrual products, wipes, and toothbrushes/toothpaste
anera - provides a variety of necessities, including food, water, hygiene supplies, medicine, blankets and mattresses, and psychological care
palestine children's relief fund - provides supplies and support with a focus on children. also has an initiative for lebanon
dahnoun mutual aid - provides water, food, tents, baby supplies, financial support, and other necessities. updates can be found through their instagram
certainly this is not an exhaustive list, so please feel free to add on other projects or organizations that i didn't include. and as always, please take the time to donate if you can and share. it truly makes all the difference.
One night apart shouldn't be that difficult. At least that's what Javier keeps trying to tell himself. The problem is that he misses her. The bigger problem is that he's also incredibly horny.
Warnings: javi pov, 18+ (mdni), phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation (male+female), fingering, jerking off, mentions of: oral sex, p in v sex and javier's big dick; sexual fantasizing, orgasm (male+female), pillow humping, possessive language, praise, established relationship, lovesick and horny javier peña, comfort, kinda fluff, aftercare via call | if i missed any warnings, please let me know and I'll add them | if you're wondering what inspired this, unfortunately the answer is that i was horny
w/c: 3.2k • javi fic masterlist • taglist form
I get home after a long fucking day. Crosby's been breathing down my neck. We still haven't managed to catch another one of the Cali cartel godfathers after months of chasing ghosts. Feistl broke some agreed-upon rules again and almost screwed over the entire DEA because of it. Just a shitty day all around.
And the cherry on top? She's not home tonight. Usually when I get back, she's here. I hear her softly humming along to one of those songs she likes that drive me insane. Then she comes to greet me, and from that moment until I fall asleep, she's basically a clingy little koala that won't leave me alone.
But you know what? I fucking love it. Except tonight isn't like that. She had to leave overnight for work. No, I'm not thrilled about it.
Cali has their fingers everywhere. They know about every little thing that moves in this goddamn country, and they especially keep an eye on people connected to the American embassy. That's why I always send one of my agents with her. Just to keep an eye on her. Nothing more.
Thankfully it doesn't happen often, and most of the time she's here in Bogotá. But today, of all days, the one day I actually need her. Need her laugh. Need all the stupid random bullshit that comes out of her mouth.
When I walk inside, all that greets me is silence and darkness. I toss my keys into the bowl on the dresser, shrug off my jacket, loosen my tie a little without taking it off completely. I try to distract myself at first. I turn on the TV just for background noise. I stand in the kitchen going through some files I brought home from the office. Doesn't help.
My thoughts keep drifting back to her. To yesterday. To the way she was packing a few things into her suitcase. Running around the apartment in those ridiculous little shorts that barely cover her ass. The kind that always give me a perfect view of her legs and the bottom curve of her cheeks. Just thinking about watching her lean over that suitcase yesterday makes my cock twitch. Fuck.
At one point I grabbed her by the hips and pressed myself against her until she could feel exactly how hard I was. Sometimes I swear being around her turns me into a horny teenager who can't keep his dick under control. I couldn't help it.
She just laughed. But then she started deliberately wiggling her ass against me, pressing herself right against my crotch. And that was the end of that.
I unbuttoned my pants, shoved them down just enough, pulled out my hard, throbbing cock, pushed those stupid tiny shorts aside and realized she wasn't wearing a damn thing underneath. That alone nearly drove me out of my mind. I pushed into her without another word and she let out a little gasp.
She was already soaking wet. She always is. Perfect. Tight. Wet. Mine.
Jesus Christ. Just thinking about it makes my groin tighten and my cock start responding. Fuck. I need her right now. After a day like this.
I drop heavily onto the couch. On the coffee table, I spot one of her hair ties. I'm always finding her hair ties all over the apartment. That's nothing new. Tonight, though, it gets under my skin a whole lot more. I pull a cigarette from the pack sitting beside it and light up. Maybe that'll get my mind onto something else.
But then I remember this morning. And not just the part where she said goodbye at the door, smelling like vanilla and shampoo. I remember what happened before that.
The way the blanket shifted and woke me up as she slipped underneath it, moving down toward my hips. She rested her hands on them, and then I felt her lips wrap around my morning hard-on. She gave me one hell of a blowjob before I was even fully awake. Sucking me, licking me, like her life depended on it.
At one point I couldn't take it anymore and pulled her up toward me.
She understood immediately. She climbed on top of me and, with a soft sigh and those half-lidded eyes she gets when she's turned on, lowered herself onto me.
I just watched my cock disappear inside her. Watched her ride me. Watched the way she rolled her hips, finding exactly the angle she loved.
After a while, with her wrapped so tightly around me, holding me inside her, I couldn't take it anymore. I started thrusting up into her, digging my fingers into her perfect ass to help her move faster. And then I came so hard I saw stars.
While she tightened around me, her own orgasm tearing through her body, I was completely gone. She was shaking above me, breathless, and I couldn't look away. God, I loved it. Perfect fucking morning.
And suddenly… I don't even realize I'm doing it at first. My palm slides over my cock. Through my pants. Because I never bothered taking them off. So now I'm sitting here like an idiot with a hard-on trying to punch its way through my slacks while I think about the way she took me this morning.
The way she wrapped herself around me. The way she felt. The way she smelled. Like sex. Like her.
I wet my lips. My hand keeps rubbing the bulge that's getting impossibly hard. Jesus Christ. I'm not really about to jerk off on the couch like some desperate asshole. But fuck. This hard-on isn't going anywhere.
I don't think about it for long. I crush the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and reach for the phone. I know exactly which hotel she's staying at in Cartagena. I booked it myself.
When the front desk answers, all I have to do is give my name. The receptionist sounds like she already knows who I am and transfers me to her room without any questions.
She picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"
The second I hear her voice, my cock practically loses its mind. "Cariño, it's me," I murmur.
"Oh, Javi. I wasn't expecting you to call." I can practically hear her smile.
"Not happy to hear from me?" I tease.
"Actually..." she drawls lazily. "I was about to read, so... you're kind of interrupting me, sir."
I smile against the receiver, my hand still resting over my cock, which somehow feels even harder just from hearing her voice. "Hmm. Then maybe I should let you go..." I say slowly, squeezing myself through my pants. "...so I don't keep you from your reading." A quiet breath leaves me.
And somehow I can feel her attention sharpen. I don't know how. She's hundreds of miles away and all I've got is her voice through a phone line. But somehow I know she realizes I'm not calling just to chat.
"Javi...?"
"Mhm?" I'm not even trying to hide the quiet groans anymore. My cock throbs hard beneath my pants as I gently squeeze the tip through the fabric with my palm. I'm trying to recreate her touch.
The way she teases me under the table during those boring dinners with embassy politicians just to completely ruin me. Just because she likes teasing me. Because she finds it funny. Every single time, she wraps that little hand around me through my pants, giving me slow squeezes while I have to sit there pretending nothing's happening.
But at home… when we get back… I never let that little brat get away with it. I always make sure she remembers exactly why you don't do shit like that in public.
She always ends up sighing into my ear, moaning while I fuck her hard. Completely under my control. But we both know that was her plan from the beginning.
As I think about it, I already know that whole "I'm not jerking off on the couch like a teenager" idea is officially dead. This ends one way. A groan slips out before I can stop it. I hadn't meant to make a loud sound. But fuck. There's no holding it back.
"Oh... you're thinking about me, Javi?" Her voice is different now. Not innocent. Not playful. Serious. Lower. A whole octave lower.
Exactly the way it always gets when I'm taking her. When I'm buried inside her. When my hands are on her. When we’re fucking. Her voice always drops.
Maybe you'd think a guy like me wouldn't notice something like that. But I fucking notice. And I fucking love it.
I don't answer.
So she keeps going. "Do you miss me?" she whispers. "Tell me how much you miss me." She's not really asking. She's not pushing.
And suddenly I'm reminded how goddamn much I love her. How she always knows.
"Tell me what you miss most right now, Javi..." She sighs softly, and I hear sheets rustling through the phone. Sounds like she's getting comfortable in bed. Like she's lying back. Like she's getting ready to touch herself too.
Fuck. I know it. I know exactly where this is going. "I miss you, cariño," I say, sinking further into the couch.
"And what else, Javi...?"
"I miss those ridiculously short shorts I fucked you in yesterday."
"Mhm..."
"You wearing them right now, baby?" I whisper.
"I am."
"Will you take them off for me?"
She doesn't answer. But I hear the sheets move again. A few seconds later she hums softly. "They're off, Javi."
Just imagining them sliding down that perfect ass makes my cock somehow get even harder. If that's even fucking possible. "You lying down, cariño?"
"I am. And..." she pauses. "Those shorts were the only thing I was wearing."
I swallow hard and let my head fall back against the couch.
"So now I'm just lying here… completely naked… and there's nobody here to do anything about it, Javi." She says it with that mock-offended tone she uses when she's fishing for exactly the answer she wants.
"What exactly would you want me to do if I were there, baby?" I ask, playing along. My cock twitches so hard it's practically demanding to be let out of my pants.
"I'd want you to see how wet I am, Javi..." Her voice drops even lower. "I'd want you to find out just how wet your little slut is for you."
Fuck it. I unbutton my pants, pull down the zipper, and slip my hand inside my boxers, wrapping my fingers around my cock. Hot. Hard. The vein running along the shaft pulses wildly beneath my grip. Fuck. "Baby... spread your knees for me... nice and wide..." My voice catches as I pull myself free from my pants. "Touch yourself for me. Be good and let me hear you, baby."
Finally. Out. My cock stands painfully hard, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. I haven't been this worked up in a long time. And that's saying something considering we fucked last night and again this morning.
"Hmm... I'm wet, Javi..." Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Really wet... exactly how you like me."
"That's my good girl." I murmur into the receiver. "So fucking perfect. Getting wet just from hearing my voice, huh, bonita?" As I say it, I picture whispering it directly into her ear.
Picture my hands on her. Picture my fingers testing just how wet she is. My thumb rubbing slow circles while my fingers tease her, making her squirm.
The image is so clear in my head it's almost torture. Somewhere along the way I realize I've started stroking myself. Slowly dragging my hand along my hard cock. Working the head. Thinking about something completely different than the couch I'm sitting on. "Put your fingers inside yourself, mi amor," I order quietly.
"Mhm..." The sound she makes tells me immediately she already has. "I'm doing it, Javi..." she breathes. "Two fingers... and I keep wishing they were yours." A soft moan follows. "Yours are better."
"Yeah, cariño..." My grip tightens. "I know exactly what you like."
Her breathing catches.
"Exactly the spot that makes you arch off the mattress."
Another quiet moan.
"Lift your hips for me, cariño. Give yourself what you need."
Hearing her like this only makes everything worse. Or better. My stomach feels hot. Wave after wave. My hand keeps moving. Slow. Faster. Slow again. Then faster. I'm trying not to finish too soon, even though I'm already dangerously close.
"Javi?" she whispers.
"Yeah, baby?"
"If I was there with you right now..." Her words keep breaking apart between breaths. "...I'd touch you."
I close my eyes. "Yeah?"
"I'd wrap my hand around you..." she continues softly. "And make sure you could feel exactly what you do to me."
The image hits me like a punch. My hips jerk upward on instinct. Fuck. That's my problem. My imagination works a little too well. And the second I picture her hand on me, I know I'm completely screwed.
"I love your hard cock, Javi..." She keeps talking like she knows exactly how fucked I am. Like she can feel every hot wave rolling through my body. Like she knows my cock is twitching in my hand. Knows how swollen the head is. How badly it wants to be buried inside her beautiful pussy. Because somehow, despite knowing she's miles away, part of my brain still hasn't accepted that I'm not getting inside her tonight.
That all I've got is my hand and her voice. Don't blame me. Ever since we started living together, we fuck practically every day. So yeah. This situation fucking sucks. Still… what she's doing to me over the phone isn't bad. Enough? For one night, maybe. Bad? Not even close.
"Cariño... I want you to grab a pillow and put it between your thighs... rub yourself against it... pretend it's my cock rubbing against your sweet little pussy..." I whisper, completely drunk on what her voice, her moans, and my imagination are doing to me.
I hear rustling. Then muffled sounds. Like she's got the phone tucked against her shoulder. Like she needs both hands free. Like she's grinding her pussy against that pillow exactly the way I told her to.
And I can hear it. Or maybe I just think I can hear it.
At the very least, I can hear her moaning. Loud. Sweet. The same way she moans when I'm moving inside her.
Fuck. I want her. I want her so fucking badly.
"Javi... ahh... I... this feels so good... like you were..."
"Shhh, baby..." I murmur. "Take care of yourself... like I would."
For a while there's nothing but her moans coming through the line and my own rough groans as I squeeze my balls and try not to come too early.
But fuck. My whole body keeps jolting with pleasure. My cock feels like it's going to split open from wanting to be inside something.
"Javi..." Her voice comes through again. "Tell me... would you want me to suck your cock?"
Fuck.
"Would you want me to lick the tip... lick up every little drop... and take you so deep my lips would be brushing the base of your cock?" Her words break apart between moans. "And... fuck... you know how much you love that, Javi..." She's stopped trying to control herself. And somehow that only makes her sound hotter. Maybe that's exactly why she sounds so fucking hot.
"Cariño, fuck!" I press the head of my cock hard into my palm and squeeze. It's nothing compared to how it'd feel in her mouth. Or her pussy. But fuck. I'm wrecked. I don't have much longer.
"Javi, stroke it for me, please..." she whispers. "Like you're fucking me."
And after that… I don't remember much.
Just her moans. My own groans. The way my hand starts moving faster. The wet sounds coming from my own pleasure. The rustling from her side of the line as she moves faster and faster across the bed.
"Javi..." Her voice cracks. "I'm gonna... fuck... I'm gonna come..."
"Come for me, baby. Come for me. I want to hear you. I want that pussy coming just for me," I groan. "That's my good girl. You're so fucking beautiful when you come..." Fuck. I know I'm not gonna last much longer.
And then she's gone. Moaning. Crying out. Completely losing control. And I know her pussy is clenching around nothing while her orgasm tears through her. I know she's soaking wet. I know she's grinding her hips up wildly.
And it's that image, more than anything, that finally pushes me over the edge. My cock starts twitching violently. Heat surges up from my balls. I stroke myself once. Twice. And then I come with a loud groan. "Fuck, baby..."
Drops of cum land on my shirt. My tie. I don't give a shit.
I was planning on wearing that damn tie tomorrow too, and now I definitely can't because there's cum all over the fucking thing. Jesus fucking Christ.
My cock pulses hard as I ride it out, squeezing it in my fist the same way I'd be buried inside her tight pussy while it clenches around me.
After a few minutes… "Javi?" Her voice sounds distant. Tired. Satisfied.
"Yeah, baby?" I breathe out and finally let go of my cock. Half-soft, it drops against my stomach while I'm sunk deep into the couch.
"That was... wow."
I let out a tired laugh. "Hmm. You trying to tell me a pillow is better than me?"
She laughs. "No." A pause. "I'm saying the combination of your voice, my imagination, and what you're capable of doing to me over the phone should probably be illegal, agent Peña."
I smirk. "Hmm... I don't think either of us gets to complain, cariño." I reach for a cigarette and light it. Fuck. That was really good. Way better than I expected.
"So..." she teases. "My work trips aren't going to torture you quite as much anymore?"
I roll my eyes and take a drag. A cigarette after sex, even phone sex, is the best thing in the world right after the sex itself. I swear. "No." I chuckle and blow smoke toward the ceiling. "I still prefer having you here. With me. Under me. On top of me..."
"Hey, you pervert..." she laughs. "You're awful!"
"And you still love me." I say it like it's nothing and take another drag.
"Hmm... I do." Silence settles between us. "I wish you were here, Javi."
That one hits me right in the chest. Because yeah. I'd rather have her here too. Curled up against me. Warm. Satisfied. Perfect. Her soft skin against mine while we fell asleep together. Me wrapped around her. Her tucked against my chest. "Tomorrow at this time we'll be together again, baby." I tell her without letting her hear how fucking much I'm looking forward to it.
"Okay."
"Okay."
"So... goodnight, Javi," she whispers.
"Goodnight, mi amor."
The line goes dead.
I finish my cigarette, crush it into the ashtray, and run both hands through my hair. And I already know that tomorrow… tomorrow we'll make up for tonight.
But the biggest thing I know? I'm not looking forward to seeing her just because of the sex. It's because this apartment is so fucking quiet without her. And so is my life.
summary: marcus moreno is not one to, well, not commit. so then what's his deal around closing the deal? he rejects you one too many times and this last time is the final straw. but, as so often it is with a super-powered boyfriend and his coat closet full of personal baggage, it's a little more complicated than you might expect. a story about getting it wrong, until you get it right.
major tags: smut, really bad humor, adults not communicating, allusions to abuse (neither done by either character and honestly it's blink and you'll miss it), hurt feelings, angst gobsmacked by fluff, improper use of electrical powers, tropes used very commonly throughout superhero history but no lady is fridged, COMPLETE
a/n: this fic is if disney xd fucked skinamax - there, two references for my intended audience. and that audience being chip, penny and used napkin. i legitimately don't know where this came from or what the reception will be: the author picked up a mudball and it could either be a bird or a gooey mess but she's throwing it out the window and hoping it will fly anyway. Godspeed, Spiderman.
a shy man with a big cock who guides it into you with his hand, softly moaning as you squeeze around him. stays inside of you for a moment, unmoving, because he is so grateful to be in you. thanks you and proceeds to fuck you like a feral animal
imagine feeling frankie’s laboured breathing and soft moans warming your skin while he is mumbling nearly incoherent breathless thank yous into your lips. imagine feeling his wild heartbeat thrumming inside his chest as frankie is pressing you into the bed with his full body weight. imagine witnessing his soft lovesick and needy eyes peering down at you just as frankie nods to himself and proceeds to wreck you.
hey. you have to love your trans brothers of color okay. and your trans sisters of color. and your nonbinary siblings of color. you have to okay. its simply non-optional
can celebrities PLEASE stop losing weight. i am being so serious. can celebrities get fat instead. like. PLEASE. gain weight. seeing any fucking celebrity event and it's like. anorexia central in there. please please please gain weight, please get healthy, please stopppppp. it should be normalized for people to lose out on roles for this i am so serious. also men please stop getting abs, it's ugly lol
Summary: Joel is a grumpy divorced man who’s best friends with your dad. During your college breaks you try to interact with him but it always ends up failing. He doesn’t give you more than a grunt as a response. One night when your dad was supposed to pick you up from your summer diner job, Joel showed up instead. When an argument started, it led to him between your legs on the side of a dark backroad.
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), smut, mock sympathy, mention of Sarah for a second(SORRYYY), oral(m! and f! receiving), power imbalance, praise, degradation, edging, dubcon, assplay, orgasm denial, creampie, pet names (bunny), age gap (READER IS IN LATE 20’S, JOEL IS IN EARLY 40S), spitting, bdsm(if you squint), shaming, dad’s bestfriend trope, public sex, dirty talking, JOEL TALKING YOU THROUGH IT;)))), unprotected p in v, finger sucking, throat fucking, rough sex, regret, post nut clarity, spanking, small angst moment.
Author's note: English is not my first language and this is my first ever tumblr fanfiction. Sorry for errors and typos! Hope you enjoy! Might turn this into a mini series if you guys want it. Listen to my moon my man by feist while reading!
Word Count: 5.0k
Part Two
In this world, there are two things you hate the most. Finals and your dad's best friend Joel Miller.
So when he stood leaning against his aged truck with a burning cigarette between his lips, you could do nothing but let out a sigh from deep within your chest.
You’ve recently moved back to your hometown from college for the summer and had been working at a diner you used to pick up shifts at when you were 17.
Joel Miller was the most miserable person you’ve ever met in your entire adult life. You didn't know how your dad handled him.
You barely knew much about him because he popped into your dad's life about a month before you left for college.
The only thing you did know about him was that he had a daughter that he barely talked about and was divorced.
Maybe that's what made him mad at the entire world.
Anytime you were home for college you hated having to interact with him because he was very difficult to talk to. Because you were naturally a social butterfly, you made an effort to engage in conversations with him but the only response he would ever give you was a one-liner or a serious grunt. It was like talking to an ocean.
But there was always an unspoken tension between the two of you since the day you met him at a Fourth of July get-together your dad hosted. That same night he accidentally walked in on you changing out of your bikini because he thought the bathroom was vacant.
There would be times when he would stare at you so attentively as your lips wrapped around the glass of a cola bottle. The moment you locked eyes with him he would look away as if you were a nobody.
One time when your dad was hosting Thanksgiving dinner, Joel gripped your waist to get past you in the kitchen that was crowded with your dad's neighbors and co-workers. The moment he realized it was you, he took his hands off you as if you had burned him. Feeling the way his coarse hands rested against the softness of your skin sent a shiver down your spine.
You couldn't form a solid opinion on him.
“Dad’s been drinking,” Joel grumbled, throwing the cigarette onto the concrete and crushing it under his run-down boot. “Told me to pick you up.”Joel forced the sentence out, making it sound like getting me from work was a problematic task.
You didn't say anything. You just strolled past him and slid into the passenger side of the bench seat. The cushion was worn out, and the truck reeked of Marlboro Reds. You always despised how they had a powerful smell.
After a couple of seconds, Joel jumped into the truck and uttered a profanity under his breath before starting up the truck. It didn't take him long before he backed out of the diner’s empty parking lot and hit the road.
Home was about 30 minutes away and you didn't know how you were going to deal with the suffocating silence that was hanging in the air already. Not even music was able to benefit the tension because his truck’s radio was permanently lifeless.
“Full moon tonight.” You announced, unable to handle the silence any longer. You stared at the windshield and took in the sight of a dull gray orb hovering over the dark sky.
Joel didn’t speak a word, he didn’t even acknowledge that you were there. Instead, he maintained his fist tight against the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the road. The grip was so tense that you could see his knuckles turning white from your side of the truck.
“Full moon brings out all the crazes,” You scoffed, trying to engage into more conversation. “This dude was walking in and out of the diner every five minutes, I thought he was going to rob the place.” You joked, angling to Joel.
“Probably was just high.” Joel grumbled, cutting the conversation down awfully rapidly.
The rest of the ride was noiseless.
You shifted in your seat as Joel sighed for the one millionth time in minutes.
You didn't even bother looking at him, instead, you brought your hands to your jeans and fidgeted with the dark denim for a couple of minutes. Eventually your hands began exploring with the seat’s cushion until it reached the bottom of the cushion. You halted when you felt a crease. It held something in between it and the material was thin like paper. You dragged it out of the cushion’s crease to see what it was.
Joel was too preoccupied, lighting up another cigarette and rolling down his windows to attend to what you were doing.
The item was a Polaroid of Joel. It must have been when he was a little younger because his hair wasn't peppered with silver and he didn't have a scar on his nose.
For once, he was smiling. It was the first time you ever saw him smile. Your eyes continued to inspect the Polaroid. Beside him was a girl in a blue and white lined Jersey, she was carrying a trophy in her hand. She looked just like him. She even had the identical captivating smile.
You turned the Polaroid around, finding Joel’s name next to the name ‘Sarah’ in the upper right corner.
The picture almost made you beam at the wholesome picture but before you could process anything, The Polaroid was forcefully ripped from your grip which made your gaze shoot up at Joel.
“The hell is wrong with you?” He shouted, leaning over to you then placing the Polaroid in the glove compartment. “Don’t touch what ain't yours, god dammit!” He didn’t have a lick of happiness on his face. The tone of his deep southern drawl was enough to straighten your posture in an instant.
He was frantically scanning his eyes to the glove compartment, you, and the road.
“I’m sorry, I felt it under the seat,” I choked out an apology, bringing my eyes to him. “I didn't know.”
He didn't reply right away. His eyes stayed on the road for half a second longer than they should. The silence was intimidating, forcing your heart to forget a few beats.
He inhaled an extended drag of his cigarette then tossed it out of the window with more force than needed.
You wondered what that picture meant to him.
“Always so damn nosy,” He grunted under his breath before rubbing his hands through the thickness of his brunette and silver curls.
“I wasn't looking through your things, Joel,” I admitted, keeping my voice as stern as possible. It was a lie though.
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, voice low. “You still touched it.”
“It’s a stupid Polaroid,” you replied with a humorless laugh, throwing your hands up in defense. His logic made you want to tell him how idiotic he sounded.
He poked his tongue against the side of his cheek. You observed as his shoulders rose and lowered. His speechlessness felt like a punishment so you continued.
You let your emotions get the best of you.
“Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve been so miserable,” I quarrelled. “If I were that Sarah kid-,”
Before you finished your sentence, the truck came to an abrupt stop. If you weren't wearing a seat belt, your head probably would have slammed against the windshield.
“Don’t you dare say her name!” Joel cautioned while pointing a finger inches away from your face.
you glared at his dark eyes for longer than required. you watched as a hint of something glared into them but it was gone before your brain could process it.
“I’m walking home.” You blurted in an infuriated manner. “Ever since I've met you, you treated me like I've done something wrong to you.”
Joel’s jaw clenched so strongly that it could slice diamonds.
“I’ve tried being nice to you for years,” you confronted, before yanking off your seatbelt. “But you are nothing but a miserable old man who pushes people away to feel better about himself,” You assumed.
“Stop acting like you know me,” Joel declared in a wildly. offending fashion.
You scoffed then opened the truck door before getting out. You then slammed the door so forcefully that it slightly shook the truck.
“Hey!” You heard the driver's door open but you kept walking alongside the dark, vacant road. “You don't get to walk away when you feel like it!” His southern accent was completely on display.
“Well I'm doing it right now!” You roared back and proceeded to walk briskly.
His hefty footsteps were approaching behind you quicker than you anticipated..
Before you knew it, a large calloused hand gripped your forearm driving you to yelp. Feeling Joel's touch sent electricity down your body.
“Joel,” You called out between your clenched teeth as you looked up at his towering figure. “Let go of me.”
He didn't respond to your demand. Instead he tugged you by your forearm to the truck. You attempted to fight against his grip but nothing helped due to how much stronger he was than you.
You nevertheless struggled in his grip. “I said I am walking the fuck home, Joel,” You declared openly as he tightened his grip around your forearm. In an instant, you were pinned against the side of the truck and him.
“You are getting in this god damn truck,” Joel gave notice, looking down at you. You opened your mouth to fire back with another reply but nothing came from between your lips.
For the first time since the truck had stopped, the anger in his eyes seemed to be gone because Something else was there. It was something you’d caught a glimpse of when he snatched away the Polaroid.
His grip on your forearm loosened barely.
“Stop acting like you got me figured out,” he elucidated, his voice lower now. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Your chest heaved as you kept your eyes on him. Your eyes searched his face, studying every detail of his structure.
“Then tell me,” you said softer than usual as Joel stared at you.
Neither of you moved.
His gaze dropped to your lips. You let out a breathy exhale as you continued to observe the man. Slowly, almost as if he was giving you a chance to stop him, he lifted a hand to the back of your neck.
You didn’t pull away.
In a matter of seconds, Joel crashed his lips onto yours. He moved with such hungry desire as his other hand found their way to your hips. You gave in and opened your mouth for his tongue to slide in. It was the best feeling you've ever felt resulting in a moan exiting from your throat.
You moved in sync with Joel as you pressed your body closer to his. Both of your tongues fought for dominance as his hand trailed up your neck grabbing a fistful of your hair.
Immediately, he pulled away as if you'd just hurt him. The loss of his warm touch was direct.
“Fuck!” He cursed into the air with a defeated sigh. “We can not do this,” Joel stuttered, making an effort to convince himself that kissing you was extremely mistaken.
“We can.” I debated as I stepped closer to him.
“I am old enough to be your dad,your dad will kill me.” He said as if it was an improper thing. “You don't want this, sweetheart,”
You pulled him closer by his belt loop, looking up at him.
“I know what I want,” You mumbled before lowering to your knees in front of him and fiddling with the leather of his belt. “And it’s you.”
He sighed, giving in and accepting your reply.
You gradually started to undo his leather, your eyes gazing over the dark shadows of his perfectly structured face. His eyes were observing you heavily, watching as you unzipped his jeans.
“Eager little thing,” He teased as his fingers found their way to your jaw, softly stroking your skin with the pad of his thumb.
He slid his belt from his jeans before you could get to his boxers. He wrapped the strip of leather around your neck, it acted like a leash. The leather pressed cold against your skin as a small whimper escaped from your throat.
Knowing that you were about to take your dad’s best friend cock into your mouth at the side of a dark road was enough to send a familiar ache to tingle between your legs.
The same man who wouldn’t even give you a reply if your life depended on it was now directly in control of you and your body.
Joel’s cock grew even more stiff in his grey boxers and his length pulsed with longing as he gave the belt a tug, bringing you closer to him.
“Come on bunny, show me how much you want this,” He challenged, gazing down at you as you hooked your hands around the stretchy waistband of his boxer.
In a flash, you pulled them down and watched as his cock sprung out. The sight of length under the moonlight caused you to choke out a sound. Joel’d cock was curved upward with a thick vein along the side of it. Your mouth watered at how girthy he was and how his pink mushroom tip was slicked with precum. He had a full bush of brunette hair peppered with silver around the base of his cock.
You nervously swallowed before bringing your hands up his length. Your thumb rubbed underneath the tip, touching the most sensitive part of his cock. In response, he twitched in your hand and gave you a small impatient groan.
You stroke his entire length while not breaking eye contact with him then wrapped your lips around his velvety tip. You did it in the exact manner as you do with your cola bottles.
Joel cursed as he slowly thrusted into your mouth, growing so impatient with your unhurried pace.
He yanked the belt so you took him deeper into your mouth. Once his thick tip hits the back of your throat, you let out a gag. He seemed to enjoy it because he jerked in your mouth.
You let your tongue out as you pushed him deeper down your throat. He was so deep in your mouth that you managed to lick his balls with the tip of your tongue.
“Look at my pro.” He praised you as you pulled his cock out of your mouth and slapped it onto your tongue a few times. “‘S what you’ve been doing in college?”
His deep mocking tone brought a pulse to spasm on your clit. You clenched your thighs tightly for some release as you wrapped your lips around his cock and began sucking harder. You were trying your best to take him all in your mouth.
“What am I going to do with you?” He tsked before grabbing the back of head and thrusting harder into your mouth at a punishing swiftness. You gagged harder as drool dripped down to your black work shirt. “Such a damn slut.”
You couldn’t take the pressure building between your legs so you shamelessly dug your free hand down your pants and into your lace panty.
You ran your fingers down your velvety folds, getting a sense of how soaked you were with your arousal. You then brought your delicate palm against your clit.It was larger in size due to the pressure that’s been building the moment Joel put his lips on yours. You grinded against your palm instead of circling your clit.
Eventually, Joel caught on to what you were doing because the moan you let out vibrated against his tip. He halted then drew his cock from out of your mouth. A line of saliva stayed connected to your mouth and his cock and his length was glistening in your drool.
“You poor selfish thing,” He snorted, yanking you up from your knees. “You just couldn't wait huh?”
“I need you, Joel.” You pleaded, his name sounding like a prayer against your lips.
“Yeah?” He challenged, tilting his head slightly to the side as a small grin crept onto one corner of his lips.
You nodded as he looked at your drool-covered face.
“I think I should teach you a really good lesson.” He spoke before dragging you by the belt. The tug of it made a small gasp exit your lips.
He opened the closest door of the truck, which was the passenger side and bent you over the bench seat’s cushion, resulting in half of your body being outside of the truck.
You heard Joel behind you and it made your entrance clench around nothing but his dominant presence alone.
He took the belt from around your neck and clasped your hands behind your back in a rough, swift motion. It didn’t take him long to restrain your arms together with the belt. You couldn’t move your upper body no matter how hard you tried.
“Easy.” He mumbled in a dangerously low tone when he noticed your struggle. “Just say the words and we can stop this right now.”
“Just touch me please,” I begged. “I need you.”
He huffed out a small laugh before bringing his knees in between your legs, prompting you to open them wider.
He started to slide your tights down to your knees, the Texan air hitting the skin of your ass.
You were nearly fully exposed to him from the hips down now. You felt the roughness of his enormous hand palm your ass before he ripped your lace black underwear into pieces like an animal. You panted at his actions.
Warm air started to fan against your damp cunt.
Oh my god, he was going down on you.
No one’s ever done that before.
You felt his warm tongue lick your slick folds causing you to stiffen at the shock of this unfamiliar pleasure. Your knees nearly buckled.
Your nails dug into the skin of your wrist as Joel licked from your entrance down to your swollen clit. You let out a soft squirm while he took his hands to spread you open some more.
He delivered consistent delicate licks to your bud. Your hips chased his hot mouth. His beard scraped against your folds and he latched his mouth on you, suctioning your clit. Your body tensed at how strongly he was sucking on you.
“Sweetest cunt I've ever tasted,” He groaned between your legs. Your eyes rolled to the back because you could do nothing but take what he was giving you.
The moans that rolled out your mouth got louder as he delicately bit down on your clit. He then slid his tongue up to your entrance before pushing his tongue inside you. That resulted in you clenching tightly around him, your cunt becoming greedy for his mouth.
“Joel…”You whimpered, practically fucking yourself with his tongue. “Please.”
The knot that was building in your lower stomach instantly withered away once he pulled his face away from you.
“I don't think you deserve to cum yet, bunny,” He spoke out before standing up and positioning himself between your legs.
“I will be so good.” You sounded so pathetic, making an effort to chase a release that was taken away from you.
You felt the warmth of his cock near your cunt, bringing you to tilt your hips up more.
“I know you will, sweetheart.” He replied in a reassuring fashion. His hand found the small of your lower back as his tip softly skimmed over your dripping folds.
He exhaled a baritone groan as his mushroom tip stretched out your entrance. It barely wanted to fit in your tight cunt.
Everything about him was so giant.
You let out a soft cry of pleasing discomfort as he slowly sank deeper into you. In reaction, your legs unintentionally shook as you whimpered his name. Your pussy was swallowing him whole. You could feel your walls trying to adapt to the major girthy stretch.
“I can't…”You trailed off but struggled to find the words to finish your sentence. “It’s too much.”
“It’s okay, bunny,” he cooed, gently rubbing the small of your back as he bottomed out. He was so deep in you that you felt his balls against your clit. “I got you, relax.”
Your mouth remained open and your brows stayed furrowed as he proceeded with thrusting in you. A dull pain grew in your lower belly every time he moved and you squirmed underneath him.
“Aint know how long I've been wanting you.” He confessed after nearly pulling his cock all the way out of you; only his tip stayed into you and your walls clenched around it like he was going to vanish.
Knowing that he did feel something towards you only made you desire Joel more.
When he thrusted into you, it was like a reminder of how full he made you feel, though the stretch was so devastating.
After a couple of these unhurried thrusts, he picked up his pace. Crashing his hips into yours in a pure disciplining manner. Your pussy was gushing around him, you felt the creamy ring from your pussy forming around his cock. The noise of your wetness laced with your moans and Joel’s groans filled the air around the both of you.
“So fucking gorgeous.” He remarked, bringing his hands to the fat of your hips. The knot in you was building and Joel knew it too because of how tight you were squeezing his shaft.
You cried out as you took all that he was offering.
“For someone who dislikes me…”You choked out against the worn-out cushion, attempting to finish your sentence but you fell short when he pounded into your cunt with little mercy. His balls slammed against your clit at the ideal pace.
“Go on.” He demanded, picking up the swiftness. He brought the back of his hand to your ass and smacked it..
You couldn’t even form a proper thought, your mouth fell open as you gasped against the cushion. You closed your eyes in maximum pleasure as your heart heaved against your chest.
“Cant even finish your damn sentence.” He tssked, mocking your attempt to speak. “Yet, here you are letting this miserable old fuck take you like a whore.”
If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, his insulting tone would have caused you two to argue. But with the way he was handling you, you let it slide because you were so close to cumming that your walls began to spasm in waves. Moans and breathy whimpers were the only thing fleeing from your mouth. Just a couple more thrusts and you would have released yourself all over Joel’s lengthy cock.
“Harder…please Joel.” You pleaded in response to the pressure building, greedily lifting your hips up to take more of his length.
He huffed out a chuckle through his sea of groans. You figured he was close too because his thrusts were evolving into careless strokes.
“I know baby, I know,” Joel mockingly cooed. “You want to cum?” he invited while proceeding with massaging the small of your back with his thumb.
You nodded frantically as an inhumane cry left your throat. It was like Joel was attempting to make your walls take the shape of his massive cock in you.
“Then tell me who’s pussy does this belong to?” He called into question as his thrust got deeper.
“You, Joel!”You cried out in a brief answer. You were almost at the edge, you felt the knot in you about to snap.
“That right?” He tested some more. Your juices were fully dripping down your thighs now.
You nodded against the cushion and dug your nails into your wrist harder. Your thighs were tensing and quivering as you felt your orgasm about to hit.
In a matter of seconds, it was taken away from you. The sensation that was building in you was directly fading.
In shock you whined, attempting to turn your head further to the side to get a better view of Joel.
His curls were falling in his face, he was too busy looking down at where you guys connected in awe. His soft lips were narrowly parted as his pace was sluggish and plunging. Stripping the orgasm away from you.
“This is a life lesson bunny,” He grumbled sternly before sliding out to where only his tip was in you. You whimpered, chasing the warmth of his cock with your hips. “Sometimes beggars can't be choosers.”
He then bottomed out in you and you choked on your own saliva. You felt every brutal inch of him stretching you back out.
“Please Joel.” You rocked your hips to ease the ache.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he spread your ass wide so your hole was more visible then spat. The warm, sticky fluid found its way right at your ass’ rim. He took the spit and smeared it around the rim some more.
Joel took his thumb and stuck it into your ass. You tensed underneath him, both of your holes clamping around him.
You both let out a moan.
“We need to give this hole some attention.” Joel groaned out before matching his thumb to the pace of his cock. Slow and excruciatingly deep.
The sensation of being so full had you squirming away but his strong grip on your hip was enough to keep you in place.
“You can do it bunny,” He continued his thrust as you whined. “Relax for me.”
“Too much…no more Joel.” You begged, attempting to push his thumb from out of your untrained asshole.
He listened this time but in return, Joel didn’t only take his thumb out of you; he pulled his cock out too.
The feeling of being empty was bittersweet but You were caught by surprise when he turned you over in a swift motion. Your tied hands were now underneath you. He yanked off the rest of your pants and torn underwear then brought your legs to his waist.
This position made Joel have fuller access to you. Joel lined his glistening cock against your entrance again and sank back into you. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He moaned, his southern drawl laced with pure fascination.
It didn’t take long before picked up his pace. This time he was drilling into you with no compassion. You could do nothing but allow your pussy to swallow his length because of the position he had you in.
The sound of your sweaty skin slapping against his was fierce. Your cries were coming to be strained and louder as your back arched from off the truck’s bench seat. You didn’t care how comfortless the position was because all you focused on was Joel’s thrust building your orgasm back up and the burning sensation coming from your core.
Joel noticed your loudness and he stuck a few fingers in your mouth,pacifying your pathetic sounds. This was a physical reminder that your pussy was milking him dry on the side of the road. You sucked Joel’s thick fingers, tasting yourself as they muffled your moans.
The hot pressure building inside of you.
“You are doing so well sweetheart.” His hands snaked around the back of your neck and forced you to look at where you guys connected. He made sure you were looking at the mess as he spat directly between your legs. The warm liquid dripped down your clit and near your entrance, sending a shiver down your spine. The cream from your tired cunt fully formed a ring around Joel’s cock.
“Such a messy bunny,” He grunted, moving his rough hands down to your swollen,aching bud. He circled it a few times which nearly made your legs clamp shut. “you are going to watch every second of me fucking you.”
You let out an audible cry as you clenched around him, a desire burning in you as he thrusted into the precious spot inside of you.
His animalistic noises filled the air once he approved of you laying back down onto the bench seat. He brought your legs over his shoulder before leaning forward so his face was in the crook of your neck. Joel was folding you like a chair in this position.
You slowly regretted not taking off your work shirt because the feeling of his warm mouth on your puffy nipples made your cunt clench around him.
“Don’t stop,” You breathed out in a whiny sob after squinting your eyes shut. The angle he was in was something so serious and lethal that you were completely stretched out to the maximum.
“So damn needy,”
“You make me feel so good, Joel.” I blurted out, the wave of ecstasy pooling against my lower stomach.
“I know bunny,” He groaned as the sloppiness of his thrusts indicated to me he was near his own release.
“Just like that,” He praised the way you lifted your hips more. His groans were now pathetic whimpers because he was losing control of himself. “Atta girl.”
The way he was talking you through everything made you clamp around his cock with tremendous strength. You were about to release and Joel figured it.
He continued pounding into you as you squirmed. A blasting choke coming from out of your chest as you shivered underneath him.
Your walls spasmed around the girth of his cock, a wave-like gesture massaged his cock and brought him to his own release. You felt Joel twitch in you as he fucked you through your high.
“You are doing great, bunny.” He could barely contain himself any longer. I bit down on my lips and nodded in reaction to his praise as his pace quickened.
“Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He remarked while halting deep into your cunt. He was filling you up with his cum. The warm sticky feeling caused your back to arch as he remained deep inside you.
He waited there for a couple of seconds before taking his cock out of your puffy pussy. The emptiness between your legs resulted in you whining. The mess your cunt made mixed with his cum was gradually dripping out of you and onto the cushion below you.
You two were both breathing laboriously, looking at each other. Joel was wide-eyed like he'd just seen a ghost; Like he couldn’t believe that he fucked his bestfriend’s daughter on the side of the road. Your lips parted while you stared up at him in shock that you allowed him to be this rough with you.
personally I am of the opinion that vegans who are like “the way our food system currently works under capitalism on a large scale is exceptionally cruel to all animals including humans and is not sustainable, so I’m doing what I can to make the most ethical choices available to me about what I eat and encourage others to do the same” are generally very reasonable people who I agree with in spades. but vegans who seem to think human beings are not themselves animals who are ultimately also part of the food chain but instead some kind of other paternalistic higher entity that can never engage in ethical and sustainable hunting practices (and especially the fringe I’ve seen who think other carnivorous animal predators are also evil and need to be eliminated) are people I regard as foolish at best if not actively anti-indigenous and racist
𓂃⋆.˚ tags: explicit 18+, protected PinV, oral (f! & m! receiving), friends to lovers, emotional smut, a sprinkle of dirty talk, Frankie the humble BDE king, banter, the boys knew before they did, Benny, Will and Santi having a small cameo, hurt/comfort, body worship
summary: You were used to being too much. Until the one man who knew you best showed you you never were.
𓂃⋆.˚ author's note: I was completely possessed by this idea today and wrote it in one absolutely feral sitting. This is also dedicated to my fellow plus-sized girlies who felt like they need to shrink themselves to fit somewhere. You’re exactly right as you are. 🤍 Happy Sunday. (Need a Frankie of my own now, Jesus 🫠)
word count: 4,7 k
⋆ read on ao3 ⋆
Being a woman is hard. Hard on its own. And if you don’t fit into the mold society made for you, you’re treated like an outlaw. An inconvenience. You felt that even as a kid, and the older you got, the more it settled in your bones like something you couldn’t scrub off.
Then you got into your first relationship. Had sex for the first time. And something shifted, like a switch flipped.
You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac. You just had needs. Normal ones. But being plus-size on top of that made it feel like double the struggle to have those needs taken seriously. You met countless men who talked big until they got you naked, and then lasted thirty seconds, tops. Like your body was an ego boost, not a person.
Your last relationship with Brad, bless him, ended only recently. He was kind. Not entirely a douche. And maybe if you were another woman, you could’ve built something like forever with him. But you wanted him more than he wanted you. And after you snuggled up to him for the third time in a week, he’d sighed like you were asking for a chore and said, “Do we really need to do this every day?”
Something in you shattered so cleanly you almost didn’t feel it at first.
A week later, you packed a bag and moved out. Luckily, Will had recently bought a house, and you were able to crash in his guest bedroom.
The first few days, you were devastated in that very specific way heartbreak does to you. Showering only when necessary. Eating only the leftovers Will offered. Watching those god damn Hallmark movies and crying until your eyes burned and your throat felt raw.
By the second week, you started getting a little better. Leaving the house to catch up with friends. Going to the hairdresser. Reclaiming parts of yourself you thought you’d misplaced somewhere in the relationship.
By the third week, you found yourself on Will’s back porch, surrounded by your favorite people, fairy lights, and liquid courage.
It was easy with them. Especially with him. Frankie.
Talking and laughing felt natural, like you didn’t have to brace for anything. Benny and Santi were arguing about football like it was a court case, and Will was already gathering empty bottles and paper plates like the designated dad of the group.
You and Frankie drifted away without even really meaning to.
You ended up sitting on the porch steps, shoulder to shoulder, the late-summer Florida breeze soft against your skin. The fairy lights above tinted Frankie in warm gold, made his curls look even darker, softer. Your bottle sweated between your fingers, slick with condensation, before you took another sip and felt that faint buzz start to hum through your veins.
“So,” you said, leaning back on your hands, turning your head toward him. “Francisco. Why exactly are you still single?”
The question was innocent enough. But Frankie stiffened beside you, just slightly. One of those tells you’d learned over time. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the bottle in his big hands like the answer might be printed on the label.
“You forget I’m a man with a whole wardrobe full of weight,” he said quietly. “Most people don’t wanna carry that.”
“Oh, I know.” You swallowed, then pushed on anyway, because you’d had a few drinks and you were tired of keeping everything locked up inside you. “But I also know you’re gentle and kind and funny and…” You cleared your throat, suddenly self-aware. “Pardon me. Unfairly attractive, too.”
He let out a low laugh beside you, a deep rumble that you’d started to crave without permission. A dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth in the golden light, softening him into something boyish that never failed to mess with your head.
You’d always had a soft spot for Frankie. Ever since you met the group, he’d been one step closer than everyone else, like gravity. Like your heart had quietly made space for him without asking you first. And if you weren’t careful, it would be too easy to cross the line you’d drawn.
But Frankie had always been seeing someone since you’d known him. This was the first time you and him had been single at the same time, and the fact alone felt like a loaded gun sitting between you.
“Unfairly attractive, huh?” He arched a brow, suspicious. “How much did you drink exactly?”
“I mean it.” You bumped his shoulder lightly with yours. “Did you look in a mirror recently? The messy curls, the soft haunted eyes. This whole brooding soldier thing.” You tipped your bottle toward him like a toast. “Very attractive, Morales.”
He huffed, like he didn’t know what to do with a compliment that landed too honestly. “Thank you,” he said, then hesitated. “I guess?”
A beat passed. Then he added, quieter, like he didn’t want the porch to hear him. “It’s a little more than that. Let’s just say… women weren’t always able to handle my needs.”
You laughed automatically. “What needs? The need to be a pain in the ass?”
Frankie didn’t laugh back. His gaze stayed forward, jaw flexing once, like he was bracing himself before he said the next thing. “No,” he murmured. “The more personal ones. You know.”
He cleared his throat.
Your brain rattled around for half a second before the dots finally connected. A long, drawn-out “Ohhh,” slipped out of you, half disbelief, half realization.
“That kind of needs,” you said, and the way it came out made it sound like a secret you’d just been handed. You swallowed. “Funny. Same reason I broke up with Brad.”
Frankie’s head turned slightly, attention snapping to you like you’d tugged a string tied directly to him.
“He complained,” you continued, bitterness rising up like a tide. “Literally complained that I wanted sex more than once a week. He made me feel like it was a burden. Like I was asking too much. And that shattered something in me.”
You tightened your grip around the bottle, like it was the only thing anchoring you to the steps. “I fought long enough to be where I am,” you said, voice sharper now. “To take up space without apologizing for it. I’m not going to let some man ruin that for me. Am I not allowed to want more?”
Frankie went completely still beside you. Not distant. Not cold. Just focused. The kind of stillness that meant he was taking you seriously.
“I had no idea,” he said quietly. “I thought you liked him.”
“I did.” You made a face, all grim honesty. “But I like me more.”
You finished your drink, set the empty bottle on the wooden step beside you. The air felt thicker now, like the porch had shifted under your feet.
Frankie exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was trying not to say the wrong thing.
“So what you’re telling me is… you broke up with him because you were too much for him to handle?” he asked, voice low, unimpressed in a protective way that made your chest ache. “Like your sex drive was a problem?” He shook his head once, a sharp little movement. “That’s low, preciosa.”
“Yup.” You popped the p, forcing a shrug even though the hurt still lived painfully apparent under your ribs. “It is what it is, I fear.”
Frankie shifted closer, not a lot, but enough that his knee brushed yours. His elbow rested on his own knee now, body angled toward you, like he was making space for whatever else you needed to say.
“You know,” you said, staring out at Will’s neatly trimmed backyard like it might save you from being perceived, “being in a bigger body already made me face enough struggles growing up. It took me a while to come to terms with it. To be able to take up space without apologizing for it.”
You glanced at him. “And now I struggle because some guy makes me feel like having a sex drive is a crime?” You scoffed softly. “Absolutely not.”
Frankie’s eyes were already on you, studying. Like he was trying to memorize your face in this light. His jaw flexed again, and you saw something in him shift too, something quieter than anger but just as intense.
“You are not too much,” he said, voice steady. “In any aspect. None.”
The words landed like a hand on your spine.
“And if someone ever makes you feel like you are,” he continued, like he needed you to hear every syllable, “they can go to hell. Seriously.”
He straightened a little, as if it mattered to him that his words didn’t shake.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, simply. No performance. No flirting for sport. “And the way you fight for yourself… standing your ground like that?” His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “It’s admirable.”
A beat. “And honestly,” he added, and his gaze dipped to your mouth for half a second before snapping back up like he hadn’t meant to, “it’s… really sexy, too.”
Heat crawled up your neck. Into your cheeks. You hated how fast it happened. You tried to laugh it off, tried to keep it playful, because playful was safe.
“Sexy, huh?” you teased, tipping your chin at him.
“That’s a first,” you murmured, the words slipping out softer than you intended.
“Don’t thank me for it,” he said, and there it was again, that grounding honesty he carried like it was instinct. “You shouldn’t have to earn being spoken to like you matter.”
Your chest tightened at that and before you could overthink it, you leaned in and rested your head against his shoulder.
Frankie didn’t flinch. He only went still for a second, like your weight had rewired something in him, then he shifted just enough to make you fit better. His arm moved, hesitant at first, then settled behind you, the back of his hand resting near your hip like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you and couldn’t help himself anyway.
“I wish more guys were like you,” you said into his shirt, voice muffled.
“Me?” He let out a quiet laugh, but it sounded rough around the edges. “The world wouldn’t be able to handle that, believe me.”
You smiled into him. “Maybe the right person could.”
Frankie went quiet. The porch felt suddenly too small for the both of you. The air too warm.
His fingers flexed once, then his thumb brushed lightly against your side, almost absentminded, almost like he didn’t realize he’d done it until he did. You felt it anyway, that tiny stroke of contact that wasn’t necessary and it lit something inside of you.
You lifted your head, just slightly, and found his face closer than it had ever been. Close enough to count freckles. Close enough to notice the way his breathing changed. His eyes dropped again, unmistakably, to your mouth and this time neither of you looked away.
He swallowed, throat working, like he was trying to force himself back into being normal.
“Don’t say stuff like that,” he murmured, barely audible.
“Like what?” you whispered, even though you knew exactly what he meant.
His gaze flicked up to yours, dark and steady and dangerous in a way that didn’t feel like a threat, just a truth.
“Like you’re gonna make me want things I shouldn’t.”
Your heart kicked hard once, like it had been waiting for that admission.
Behind you, the screen door creaked, and Will’s voice floated out into the night, calling one of the guys inside for something but neither of you moved.
Frankie’s arm stayed behind you. His hand still hovered at your hip, warm and careful, like he was holding himself back by sheer will alone.
You looked at him, lips parted, and the tension sat between you like a live wire.
One of your hands fisted in the front of his shirt, knuckles brushing his sternum. You could smell the beer on his breath, feel the frantic thud of his heart beneath your palm. Your noses brushed when you leaned in, breath mingling.
“Tell me this is a bad idea,” you whispered.
His jaw clenched. His grip tightened.
His other hand slid under your tank top, palm warm and steady against your bare skin, still reverent even now. Like he couldn’t help himself, but refused to be careless with you.
“It is,” he rasped, forehead resting against yours. “But I don’t think I can hold back.”
His voice dropped lower, rougher. Honest.
“Please,” he murmured. “Tell me I can kiss you.”
You nodded, barely a movement, and that was all it took.
He kissed you like he’d been starving. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate and consuming, mouths colliding, breath knocked clean out of you. Every nerve ending lit up at once, like your body had been waiting for this exact moment and finally stopped pretending otherwise.
You made a small, helpless sound into his mouth. The hand fisted in his shirt slid up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his thick curls. You tugged without thinking, and Frankie groaned—low, broken—right into the kiss.
Weak spot found.
The sound shot straight between your legs.
The kiss deepened naturally, tongues sliding, messy and hungry. You pressed closer, chasing contact, hips tipping forward without permission. Frankie’s hand came up into your hair, angling your head just right as his tongue swept in, confident, filthy in a way that made your knees wobble.
Fuck. You had no idea Frankie could kiss like this.
Someone laughed loudly from the kitchen. The clatter of bottles. Benny’s voice raised over the noise. Reality tried to intrude.
Frankie pulled back just enough to breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. He looked wrecked already, like he was barely hanging on by a thread.
“We can’t—” he started, voice tight.
“Don’t you dare stop,” you whispered.
That was it. He took your hand and moved fast, tugging you inside through the sliding door while the others were distracted. The house was loud behind you, music and voices bleeding into the hallway as Frankie steered you down it with purpose, fingers digging into your wrist like he was afraid you might vanish.
The guest bedroom door barely clicked shut before Frankie turned, hands on you immediately.
He hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, even when you knew you did.
The thought barely had time to bloom before his hands were planted firmly on your ass, solid and sure, pinning you against the door. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, ankles crossing behind his back.
The sound you made was embarrassingly loud. Frankie pressed his forehead to your neck, breathing hard, like he was trying to anchor himself and then his lips were there. Along your jaw. Down your throat. Teeth scraping your pulse point just enough to make your head tip back.
“Frankie—” you gasped, fingers clawing at his shoulders.
“Shh,” he breathed, voice rough against your skin, and silenced you with a greedy kiss, mouth swallowing every sound you made. Like he didn’t want anyone else to hear how wrecked you both already were.
His thigh nudged between yours, pressure right where you needed it, and you rocked into it without shame. His groan was instant, muffled against your lips.
“Jesus,” he muttered, forehead dropping to yours. “You’re killing me.”
One of his hands slid lower, unhurried but certain, fingers slipping between your thighs. He stilled for half a second when he felt you—warm, wet, unmistakably ready.
His breath hitched. “Fuck,” he whispered, awe threaded through it. Like he couldn’t believe this was real. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, searching your face like this mattered. Like you mattered.
“Can I?” he asked quietly.
As if you weren’t already dripping. As if your legs weren’t locked around him. As if your body hadn’t been answering him since the porch.
“Yes,” you breathed, immediate and honest.
The word barely left your mouth before his hand moved, firmer this time, deliberate, thumb pressing against your clit through the thin cotton of your underwear. He swallowed your gasp with his mouth, kissing you like he was claiming something he’d wanted for far too long.
This was wrong on so many levels. You were at Will’s house. Your friends in the next room. The history. The timing. But you didn’t care, couldn’t. Not when Frankie held you like this. Like he wasn’t afraid of your hunger, like he welcomed it.
Frankie got greedy fast.
He tugged your panties down beneath your dress, letting you slide back onto your feet only long enough to make sure you were pressed solidly against the door. His hands lingered at your hips for half a second, grounding you, before he sank down onto his knees in front of you.
You looked down.
The sight was nothing short of something that deserved to be carved into marble.
His eyes were almost pitch-black in the faint light spilling in from the porch, pupils blown wide. His lips were pink and kiss-swollen, stubble dark against his jaw. And nothing could’ve prepared you for the way that very stubble scraped along the inside of your thighs as he leaned in, never breaking eye contact, until his mouth met your bare skin.
Everything in you lit up.
“Gonna eat you out like you deserve, preciosa,” he groaned, voice vibrating against your already dripping center.
He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder with reverent care, thumb tracing over your knee once—slow, grounding—before his mouth followed the line of your thigh. He kissed his way up, unhurried and deliberate, dragging the moment out until you were already shaking.
And then his tongue finally, deliciously, circled your clit.
Your hips bucked into his mouth on instinct, a broken sound leaving you as your hands scrambled for something to hold onto. Frankie reached up just long enough to discard the shabby cap, tossing it aside before you finally found his soft curls beneath your fingers.
You tugged and he answered by growling into you. The vibration sent a sharp jolt straight through your spine, stealing the breath from your lungs.
Your head fell back against the door with a soft thud, eyes squeezing shut as you pressed your hand over your mouth, trying—failing—to muffle your moans.
Frankie was relentless. Driven.
His tongue worked you open, fucking into you with purpose as he feasted on you like you were the finest thing ever laid before him. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty—only hunger and care tangled together so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Frankie, I—” you gasped, the protest dissolving into a whine.
He pulled back just long enough to murmur, steady and grounding, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Then he dove right back in.
Your release hit you fast and hard, a blinding rush that made stars burst behind your closed eyes. You pressed yourself against his face shamelessly, thighs tightening around his head as he kept you right there, nose nudging your clit as you rode out every ripple of pleasure.
Somewhere through it, you felt him grin against you.
When he finally pulled away, he kissed along your inner thighs, slow and reverent, before rising back to his feet. His lips were glistening with you, curls mussed, eyes dark and satisfied in a way that made your knees weak all over again.
You blinked at him, chest heaving, still trying to remember how to breathe.
“Fucking hell,” you managed. Frankie’s smile deepened before he kissed you again, making you taste yourself into the kiss before he walked you blindly to the bed. You had no clue when this man had time to scan the room and make out where the bed was, but well.
He gently guided you back, coaxing you to sit on the edge of the bed. You looked up at him—lips still kiss-swollen, chest heaving with every breath, the unmistakable outline of his cock pressed obscenely against the fabric of his khakis.
He wasn’t demanding anything. Just waiting. Patient, even now.
Your breath caught. Something about that made you ache even more.
You scooted closer, fingers finding the zipper and slowly dragging it down, savoring every inch. Tugging his shorts and boxers down in one motion, freeing him and letting out a soft, stunned laugh. Not cruel. Just astonished.
His brows furrowed, and you bit your lip.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were packing, Morales?” you teased, wrapping your fingers around his thick length. Watching him twitch under your grip, his hands finding your shoulders for balance.
“When was I supposed to tell you that?” he huffed. “When we were playing poker with the boys?”
You didn’t answer. Just dipped your head and licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the underside of his shaft.
Frankie hissed, head tipping back slightly, the muscle in his jaw flexing hard. His grip on you tightened. You felt him barely holding on. And it lit something electric under your skin.
So you pushed him further. Wrapped your mouth around him, lips stretching around the weight, cheeks hollowed as you worked him deeper, inch by inch. It wasn’t easy, but you liked the challenge. Especially when the reward was him and the soft, helpless sounds he made, low and wrecked and unguarded.
“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up,” he warned through gritted teeth, but you only doubled down, moaning around him, watching the vein in his neck bulge as he fought to stay still.
Beautiful.
Then he suddenly pulled back. Not rough. Just sure.
“Gonna get you out of this,” he growled, already tugging at the hem of your dress.
You lifted your arms to help him, and the fabric came off in one smooth motion. You hadn’t worn a bra—thank god—and the way Frankie froze, like you’d knocked the wind out of him, made heat bloom across your entire body.
“Fuck,” he breathed, reverent. “You’re even more gorgeous than I thought.”
Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away. You let him see you, all of you.
And he didn’t ogle. Didn’t smirk. His hands found your breasts, warm and firm, thumbs brushing your nipples until you gasped. He kicked away his clothes, peeled off his shirt, and then lowered himself over you, bare skin to bare skin.
Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, and the feel of him—hot and heavy, pressed against your soaked center—made both of you moan in unison.
It should’ve felt wrong. It should’ve made you hesitate. But instead, you arched up into him, searching for friction, craving contact like a woman starved.
Frankie groaned, gripping your wrists gently and pinning them above your head. His mouth found the soft place behind your ear, then your neck, then your collarbone, until he finally took your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, teasing it with his tongue until you bucked under him, helpless and whimpering.
He switched to the other breast, worshipping it just the same. You were unraveling beneath him. Your own weak spot completely exposed.
“Are you clean?” he rasped, lifting his head just slightly, eyes burning into yours.
The question grounded you. God. Of course he was still responsible. Still Frankie.
“Yes,” you whispered, breathless. “Always used condoms with Brad. And it’s been weeks. So...”
He exhaled like he’d been holding something heavy. “Good. I wasn’t exactly prepared tonight, and I don’t have one on me.”
You grinned. “In my bag.”
He looked at you, something tender sparking in his eyes.
“I have one in my bag,” you clarified, smirking. “Not because I’m a hoe. I’m just proactive.”
That pulled a huff of laughter from him, his forehead resting briefly against your sternum before he got up and rifled through your bag, holding up the silver foil like a prize.
He tore it open with his teeth.
You tracked his movements as he rolled the condom down his impressive length, hands steady despite the tension coiled tight in his body. His hips settled between your thighs, his weight grounding and solid, big hands braced on either side of your head as his gaze searched yours—quiet, careful, making sure you were still here with him.
“Still good?” he rasped.
Instead of answering, you lifted your head and kissed him. Plush lips, hungry and open. One of your hands slipped between your bodies, guiding him in, just the tip at first. The stretch had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders as he groaned low into your mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
You wrapped your legs around him, heels digging into his back as he sank deeper, inch by inch, filling you completely. It was too much and somehow still not enough, that perfect, aching fullness that made your head spin.
God. It felt incredible.
“You okay?” he asked again, breathless now.
You nodded, helpless, and made room for him—literally and metaphorically—your body opening, accepting, wanting.
That was all the permission he needed. After a few cautious strokes, like he was memorizing the way you felt around him, something snapped. Frankie straightened suddenly, hooking both your legs over his shoulders, folding you in on yourself until you gasped.
The new angle was brutal. Deep. So damn deep you swore you felt him everywhere, filling you fully, stretching you in a way that made your eyes roll back and your breath stutter.
“Oh my—Frankie—”
He groaned at the sound of his name, thrusts turning desperate, sloppy, chasing the high just like you were. The hunger you felt was mirrored exactly in him—no restraint left, only need. “Come on,” he urged, voice low and wrecked. “I know you’re close. Let me feel it.”
You whimpered as you came for the second time that night with a force so intense it felt life-altering. Your body clenching around him, pleasure ripping through you as you cried out, thighs shaking where his hands held them firm.
He swore loudly, movements growing frantic, grip tightening on your plush thighs. You knew they’d bruise tomorrow. You didn’t care.
The sound he made when he followed you—low, filthy, helpless—was the hottest thing you’d ever witnessed. His thrusts slowed, deep and uneven, until he finally stilled with a groan, forehead dropping to your knee as he caught his breath.
Eventually, gently, he lowered your legs, kissing your shoulder like an apology and a promise all at once. He shifted behind you, spooning you instinctively, his softened cock warm against your ass, breath heavy at the back of your neck.
“Still with me?” he murmured.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this blissed out. “Yeah,” you breathed.
You stayed like that for a while—breathing together, heartbeats slowly syncing—until reality crept back in. Clothes were gathered, bodies redressed, hands lingering longer than necessary. But it wasn’t awkward, like you had expected. You gave him a soft smile before you first walked down the hallway and onto the porch, all eyes turned to you in an instant.
Benny didn’t even try to be subtle. “Fucking finally,” he announced, jabbing a finger in Frankie’s direction. “García, pay up. Twenty bucks,” he added, already holding his hand out toward Santiago, who just sighed and pulled out his wallet without a word.
Will grimaced. “That’s what I get for my hospitality.”
You and Frankie laughed at the same time, the sound easy. You crossed the space between you and wrapped your arms around Frankie, burying your face in his neck without thinking twice. He froze for half a second, then relaxed. His arms coming around you like it was the most natural thing in the world now.
Being a woman with needs was hard. Hard in a world that makes you feel like wanting more is a flaw. But tonight, Frankie showed you something different.
That wanting could be met. That hunger could be mirrored and that you were never too much.
You were just waiting for the right hands to hold you.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x reader x Santiago Garcia
Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️🌈
Warnings/tags: Oral (f + m receiving), deep throating, lots of cumplay, PiV, fingering (f), masturbation, titty fucking, one time use of 'slut' (directed at m), queer af, everybody is bi. Reader is mostly a blank slate, uses she/her pronouns, has breasts and a vagina.
Word count: 1.2K
A/N: This was very loosely written + edited, and what @lotusbxtch called my brain backlashing against the Materialists trailer 💀 (hence the title - no shade intended, it's just very much the opposite). Thank you to her and @mountainsandmayhem and @sin-djarin for letting me test drive this in real time, ditto for @magpiepills who encouraged me to not fuss around too much with editing and just post it!
main masterlist | read on AO3
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Laying with your head in Santi's lap while he strokes your hair, as he doesn't even want you to suck him off, but to just to lay there while Frankie fucks you prone bone and he can admire the view, every now and then reaching out to cup your ass in his hand, or his fingers around Frankie's dick as he's fucking into you. And when Frankie is getting close to coming, Santi tells him to pull out at the last min and come over your ass.
He'll probably wipe Frankie's cum off you with his fingers and then use it as lube to jerk himself off lazily. "She only came once, Frankie. You'd better eat out that pussy and do it well."
So Frankie flips you over on the matress and eats you out with vigor as Santi watches. The top of your head resting against the outside of his thigh, and he's still calmly jerking himself off, brushing his thumb slick with his precum and Frankie's spunk over your bottom lip.
"Lick it up." Voice low and demanding, but of course you are gonna oblige - would’ve even done it without the order.
Frankie pauses for a moment to watch you lick Santi's thumb clean, his breath still hot against your cunt. When Santi notices that he's stopped, he frowns at him and snaps his fingers. "Didn't tell you to stop, Francisco. Get back to it and give her two fingers."
Then Santi fucks your mouth with two fingers, pretty much at the same pace as Frankie fingers you while sucking on your clit. "She'd better be crying your name loudly when she comes on your tongue."
You do, so Santi decides that Frankie deserves a reward. He tugs Frankie by his hair, over your body and towards him, so he can kiss him and lick your taste out of his mouth. "Good job," he purrs at Frankie, who can't help but preen at the compliment, and before he can respond, Santi pushes his head down, urging Frankie's mouth to his cock. "Here's your reward, make it sloppy."
And you're still laying there, catching your breath with Frankie leaning over you and giving Santi the nastiest, sloppiest head. You brush your fingers over his nipples - always so sensitive - and lean up to press your lips against his heated skin, kissing his chest, and you feel him shiver in response.
It's not long before Santi is panting heavily, because Frankie knows exactly how to suck him off hard and quick. You can feel Santi's hips bucking up even though you can't actually see what's going on - but fuck, do you hear it. The slick sounds of Frankie feasting on his dick have you dripping wet, and you reach down to touch yourself, slipping two fingers inside to satisfy the yearning. It’s good, intoxicating even with your two guys pressed so close against you, but nevertheless your digits don’t fill you nearly as adequately as Frankie's fingers did.
"Deeper," Santi gasps, and you can feel how he urges Frankie's head further down, pushes himself all the way in probably, because for a second Frankie gags, then recovers as he continues. His own dick has stiffened but he’s not quite able to get fully erect again, bobbing against your stomach as he's smearing a mess of your combined cum all over your belly.
The guys are both panting now, and Frankie moves a bit further over, presumably to better position his mouth over Santi before he comes. Suddenly he groans, low and yearningly, and pushes at Santi to move. You're so gone on the rush of them as you’re fingering yourself, your other hand playing with your clit as you rub it, circling it slowly as your hips buck up - and initially you don’t get what's going on. You just feel Santi shifting a little away from you, making more room for Frankie to reposition himself.
With an obscenely wet sound, Frankie's sticky cock finds a home between your tits, accompanied by his groan of relief at the sensation. Everything happens so fast that you're barely able to keep track of it. Because Santi curses, his voice low and laced with lust ( "Mierda, Francisco - look at you being a greedy slut") as Frankie reaches down, his big hands grabbing both of your tits. He pushes them together tightly and fucks them, hard, more slick of his cock now dripping all over your tits and sternum, and you can hear him gasping for air - trying not to choke as he still has Santi’s dick in his mouth.
With Santi' thick thighs having moved a bit away from you, there's just enough room now to tilt your head back further into the mattress. The angle is beyond awkward and strains your neck, but it's absolutely worth it as you see Santi's hips thrusting up, his cock red and almost visibly throbbing while he fucks Frankie's throat - the pepper and salt curls of his pubes soaked with Frankie's drool that's dripping down Santiago's length.
You whine as you fuck your fingers harder, thumb directly on your clit now, and your nipples so hard from the friction of his fingers teasing them. It’s clear that Frankie is desperately fighting his refractory period, riled up and eager for a release so he can come on your tits, even though all three of you know it's very unlikely to happen.
He suddenly pulls off Santi's cock as he gasps for air - two, three quick breaths, his lips almost impossibly slick - and he is just in time to put his mouth back on him before Santi erupts. Seconds later, you hear that familiar groan from Santiago as he comes hard, cursing up a storm, and you see the drops spilling from Frankie’s swollen lips as a visual betrayal of Santi’s release. It’s the last visual you have as your cunt tightens and you come hard on your own fingers, a gasped cry that starts out as Frankie’s name but morphs into something nonsensical as you can’t take your eyes off the guys.
Frankie’s full body slumps, no longer able to hold himself up, and you feel his overheated stomach brush your forehead as he lets go of your tits. You're pretty sure he didn't come, as he's clearly exhausted, needing to accept the defeat of his urge to climax again, but still being gifted Santi's release in his mouth.
"Jesus Christ, Frank," Santi's voice croaks as you close your eyes, trying to catch your breath while you hear and feel the guys rearrange themselves into more comfortable positions. "Give it to her," he adds a moment later, with that raspy sound that always gives you goosebumps, and you feel Santi's hand tap your cheek softly along with his demand. "Open up, hermosa."
You open your eyes when you feel Frankie's thumb tug slightly at your lower lip, and you stare up at him - the glorious mess of his face, his hair revealing how Santi clearly had his hands buried in those curls. Brown eyes still watering, multiple bodily fluids slick on his nose and lips, and his eyes asking you silently for permission.
You nod mutely as you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and then at last receive that prize he's passing on. Slick and plentiful, tasting a bit of him but mostly of Santiago, who curses again as he watches Frankie feed his cum to you.
"Fuuuck."
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Tagging y'all who wanted to be notified of this being posted (and some more folks who might be interested) (I'm deliriously tired because it's way too late so I'm sorry for everybody who I'm forgetting to tag):
-`♡´- tags: sweaty!Frankie, slightly bratty!reader, dirty thoughts, almost public indecency
summary: Frankie refuses to make you feel like you're too heavy to carry.
word count: ~ 780
a/n: Hello from the other side! Please don't take this post too seriously, I didn't either while writing. But since today is our favorite pilot's day, what better way to celebrate him than some over-the-top gym fantasy? Enjoy my feral gremlins. <3
“You think you’re too heavy for me?” he asks like you just said something blasphemous in front of God himself.
It started as a throwaway comment. Half-teasing, half self-conscious, murmured into his shoulder late at night while lying on top of him. Something about squishing him. You barely remember saying it.
But he remembers.
And now, you’re in the gym.
Frankie doesn’t usually bring people here. This is his quiet place. His rhythm. His control. But today he’s got something to prove.
You’re perched on the edge of a bench, water bottle in hand, still unsure how exactly you let him drag you along. And then you watch him start to load the barbell. One plate. Then another. And another.
“Frankie…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s a lot of weight.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
He adjusts the bench. Rolls his sleeves up. Sits under the bar like he’s preparing for war. You can feel the shift in the air—the quiet snap in his focus, the sharp set of his jaw. And suddenly he’s someone else. Not just your Frankie. But someone determined and beautiful.
And then—
Thrust.
The bar rattles. His arms flex, shirt clinging to every ridge of his chest and shoulders. Sweat already blooming down his spine. His hips snap up with startling power and precision.
“One.”
Another. And another. He’s gritting his teeth now, jaw tight, breath rough through his nose, veins like lightning across his forearms and neck.
Your thighs press together involuntarily.
“This,” he bites out through clenched teeth, lifting again, “is baby weight.”
Thrust.
“You’re not heavy.”
Thrust.
“You’re mine.”
Thrust.
“And I could lift you all damn day.”
By the time he racks the bar, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow, curls damp and clinging to his temple you’re only able to stare. There’s no hiding it. Jaw slack. Breath shallow. Brain running on one loop:
Hip thrusts. Thighs. Frankie. Sweat. Frankie. Moans maybe. Frankie.
He wipes his face with the edge of his shirt, exposing the trail of hair under his navel, and glances at you with a slow, knowing smile. Damn what a sight.
“Still worried, cariño?”
You’re not. You’re burning. You don’t even remember your own name at this point.
You follow him into the locker room like a woman possessed. Your bag? Who cares. Your water bottle? Gone. All you see is the way the sweat glistens on his neck, the curve of his back, the pull of his shorts over his thighs—God.
And the second the door closes, he’s on you. His hands on your waist, your back hitting the wall, his mouth at your neck, your jaw, the hollow beneath your ear. He’s warm and flushed and wrecked and wild.
“You were staring,” he mutters, voice low, dark. “You think I didn’t notice?”
“I wasn’t—” you gasp, already losing the thread of logic, “okay, maybe I was.”
“Stacked that weight just so you’d see. So you’d stop saying dumb shit like that. You still think I can’t handle you?”
You don’t even answer. You can’t. You just nod, or shake your head—he’s too close, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your leggings—
And then—
SLAM.
The locker room door creaks open.
A guy walks in, towel around his neck, earbuds in. Freezes. Blinks. Realizes. Backs out slowly.
Frankie goes still. Forehead against your shoulder. Breathing like he’s been shot. You’re trembling meanwhile. Dizzy with adrenaline. Frustrated. Feral for this unfairly attractive and sweaty man.
Frankie pulls back, cheeks flushed, curls damp and sticking to his forehead, lips parted like he’s seconds from saying something he’ll regret.
You try to lean in again but he stops you with a soft, wrecked growl:
“No, not here.”
And then—
He lifts you. Throws you over his shoulder, effortlessly, like you weigh nothing.
“Frankie—!” You squeak.
“Shut up. You started this.”
You’re laughing, flustered, your heart punching against your ribs as he stalks through the gym like a man who’s about to commit a crime.
People stare. Someone whistles. Frankie doesn’t care.
He doesn’t break stride until he opens the car door like it offended him personally.
The car ride is quiet. Except for your breathing. And the death grip he’s got on your thigh. The muscle twitching in his jaw. The white-knuckle hold on the steering wheel. Every red light feels like a punishment. You really need to bite back a laugh.
He doesn’t play music. Doesn’t speak, doesn’t even blink. Just takes the fastest route home like a man on a mission.
When he finally slams the gear into park, he turns to you—eyes dark, voice low:
“Upstairs. Now. And don’t bother taking off those leggings. I’ll do it with my teeth.”
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader x Santiago García
Summary: Frankie is a constant in your life because he’s your boyfriend, and Santiago is a constant too because well… he’s Santiago best friend and he has always been there. One night the heat of an argument brings to the surface a way deeper type of heat.
Warnings: +18 smut, MDNI, teasing, handjobs, threesome, oral (f!receiving), nipple playing, pussy pronouns, body worship, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex, pussy spanking, breeding kink (if you squint), use of pet names (love, babygirl, babe, baby, honey, darling), age gap
Word count: 7.5 k
Notes: on my hundredth rewatch of Challengers (2024, Luca Guadagnino) my mind went places, and I had the urge to write something with two of my fav boys. Chapters will be called “matches”, so pick your fav player, get comfortable and have a good match 🎾
Tags: @rosharanfiction , @berryispunk 💙
Dividers credits: @cafekitsune
|| FRANKIE MORALES FICS || MY FICS ||
“Frankie, just let her come with us, she was in the special forces too.”
You glance at Santiago, “Thank you, finally someone who acknowledges that.”
Frankie sighs deeply on the other side of the table, and he’s sure that if looks could kill he would strike Santiago right in this moment.
“Yeah, thank you Santiago, let’s fuel this idea a little more.” Santiago rising up his arms declaring innocence.
You’re at your home, Santiago having come by to give Frankie some maps about the expedition and that is how you’re tying again to join it too, wanting to go with Frankie so bad, but knowing that he’s very reluctant at that.
“I can shoot, I can defend myself, I can pilot a helicopter and drive whatever truck you might need,” you start counting on your fingers, “I have great sense of orientation and I’m stronger than I look.”
Frankie shakes his head at your words, “No one is doubting any of that, love,” he wraps his warm hand around your arm over the table, “I know about your skills, and you would be very high qualified for this.”
“But?” You urge him, knowing he is about to say that word, “But I don’t want to put you in danger, you know that, this so called mission will be dangerous, and I don’t want that for you, that is not what I would settle for.”
“But instead I should settle for you still going on the mission without me, while I could be there with you, and even helping you? I don’t need to be protected, and you out of all people should know that.”
It is no secret that you have put yourself in danger many times while you served in the special forces, that you were surely reckless and that when you met Frankie on the job it was really that fearless look that you had that made him fall instantly for you, that attracted him to you like a moth. You went together on special missions, caring for each other at first like work partners, respecting each other and all of that, until it was clear that feelings were blooming between you two, there was something more under all the respect and that care you had for each other. There were different longing looks, and touches on wounds that needed to be mended that lingered a little longer than necessary. It was after the hundredth mission together and getting nothing out of it, if not just wounds and some broken ribs, that you both had decided to leave that place, that job that had let you meet. And from now on, you were working free lance, going on private paid missions, but this one is surely different. This one is started by Frankie and Santiago, not by a private person paying them to do it, it is just them really wanting to do it.
Frankie fights the words he would really want to say, that he’s scared as hell of losing you given your reckless behaviour but he knows that words like that would just worsen the situation.
“I know, you don’t need the help of anyone nor the protection, but why is it so hard to understand that I-” he pauses for a moment, lowering his look, “That I am just scared?”
“And so I shouldn’t be scared for you, right? Because how do we solve that, Frankie? If we apply this thought then we both should stay at home and bye bye mission.” You cross your arms, leaving his touch.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, this is a dilemma he wishes he didn’t have to solve.
“Of course you could be scared for me-”
“And wouldn’t it be better if we were together? Facing everything side to side like we have done dozens and dozens of times?”
And Frankie knows that whatever he might say, is gonna make blow up the whole situation, that you’re stubborn and that is not gonna be easy to dismiss you from this idea. And that maybe he shouldn’t have talked about it this early and especially at home.
“Love, this would be different. We would be completely on our own, no back up from literally no one.”
Your arms still crossed, knowing that your look is burning on him, that he’s being put in a corner with this decision.
“I would be with you, and with Santiago too. You wouldn’t bring him with you if you didn’t trust him, and you know that you can trust me too.” You exclaim, a bit of desperation starting to set in, and Santiago wishes instead to be sinking on the chair since he really doesn’t want to be put into this crossfire.
Santiago would prefer an actual crossfire.
He chooses to stay silent, fidgeting with his fingers as he looks between you and Frankie, feeling like this is not gonna end up well.
“If it is such a dangerous and deadly mission why are you even going on it, and bringing your best friend too with you?” You incite, Frankie shaking his head, knowing this is leading nowhere.
“Is it really hard to get that I’m just trying to wish for you to be here, safe and sound, rather than on a mission that is a jump into the unknown?” His voice steady, but heavy with emotions, “It is true, we would get a lot of money from that but it is also something not so legal and something that we have never done before.”
You get up from the table, getting another glass of wine and leaning on the door frame, “Then again, why are you two going? It’s dangerous as hell and yet I don’t see you two backing from it,” you sip on the wine, hoping that it’s gonna calm your neves, and then tipping the glass in Santiago’s direction, “Let’s hear it from you, Santi, do you think the same?”
And you can tell that he’s unsure on how to please both of you with his next answer, looking nervously between you two, like he has done for most of the time up until now, like people would look at a heated tennis match. He passes his fingers over his lips, knowing that his response will only give points to you. “I think that you are absolutely amazing and strong, I saw you passing so many tests with some of the highest scores and I have seen you piloting choppers, you’re good, and we might need someone like that.”
Frankie again studies all the ways in which he could kill him right in the spot, “Are we really picking sides right now?” Frankie asks, exasperated at this point, Santiago shaking his head, “Just saying that an extra pilot or someone who could pilot while you’re sleeping might be very useful. And then, Frankie, let’s be honest. Do you really think that you out of all people would let someone hurt her or worse? That I wouldn’t protect her with everything I have?”
It is no secret that that man cares for you almost as much as Frankie does, that since you’ve met him he’s been nothing but caring to you. And actually, you had met him even before Frankie, on a joint mission with another team, and he had never shied away from telling you how badass he thought you were. There had been even some moments when you felt attracted to him, and there had been a couple of kisses once you had returned from the mission, but your heart already belonged to Frankie, you knew that, even though you weren’t in a relationship with him yet. And it was one night that Frankie had invited you home with some other friends that you met Santiago again, finally finding out with your surprise that they knew each other and that actually they were best friends. So, he is the type of person who has been a constant in both of your lives, for one reason or another, always fitting in your relationship with Frankie in a way that just feels so natural, and that is why tonight he’s sitting comfortably across the table, witnessing your little fight with Frankie and even defending you.
“I don’t need protection, but Santiago has a point,” you say, approaching them again, but not sitting, rather just pacing around the table, slowly, like a shark ready to attack would do, “I would be with you both, and you would get yourselves shot for me, so I wouldn’t worry so much about my safety. I would do the same for you, that goes unsaid.” You finish, leaning on the table, but not on Frankie’s side.
On Santiago’s.
Santiago’s presence never bothers Frankie, he likes to include him so much in your lives, but tonight he’s seeing him as a threat; he would never be jealous, jealousy is not part of his character, but feeling threatened is.
You place your hand over Santiago’s shoulder, but never breaking eye contact with Frankie, his chest falling and rising rapidly, hand wrapped around his glass and if he held it a little more you’re sure he could break it too, “Are you changing your mind, love?” You ask, but Frankie makes the glass clank on the table, then fidgeting with his hands, and he looks at Santiago rather than at you, searching for some answers in his eyes, for some help in dissuading you from this crazy idea. But Santiago has no solution, and Frankie knows you better than him, he should know that once you’ve decided something then you’re gonna take action, your stubbornness is not for the weak, it would take a miracle to take you away from this idea.
“Frankie, I got nothing,” Santiago utters, eyes tired, feeling his look burning on him and wanting to sink into his place, feeling also your hand on him, thumb brushing over his jacket.
“Of course, of course,” he spits, “I should have never said yes to your mission, Santi,” and then he rises his look on you, “And I should have never told you about it, now we all wouldn’t be in this fucked up situation.”
“It wouldn’t be so fucked up if you weren’t so stubborn.” And it’s surely an euphemism, defining someone else stubborn when you could easily beat him in the stubbornness competition.
“You’re still not coming with us, by the way.” He gets up, shaking his head and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.
“I’m doing this for you, I don’t care that you’re gonna hate me, you being safe is what matters the most to me. So be angry all you want, run to Santiago who apparently has all the solutions, right uh? But do not complain about the way I care for you.” Frankie says, his voice so low, and you know he would never shout at you, never rise his voice at you, he respects you too much to do that. But his voice is still hinted with venom, especially on the words about Santiago. It is hurting him to see his best friend not backing him up, not saying that maybe, just maybe, he has some good points, but instead he is choosing to stand against him, like he’s gonna get a good boy tag out all of this.
And it makes your blood boil, it makes you want to just take him and make him understand what you really mean when you say you don’t need protection, watching him coming close to you. You lean more on Santiago’s arm, him not moving but just welcoming your touch, as Frankie is now standing closer to you both. “Think about what I said, please?” His voice more tender, searching for your hand across the table but you retract it from his touch, him closing his hand in a fist and taking it back close to his hip, “I will of course,” you respond, Frankie knowing already the answer, and that this is gonna be hell until you’re gonna reach a decision that suits both of you.
“I’m taking the guest room for tonight,” he lets out, tone defeated, you nodding and thanking him mentally for understanding that you might want your physical and metaphorical space all for you. “And, Santiago,” he addresses him, Santiago finally rising his look on him, and he wishes he could do something about that pout on his lips, “You can stay for the night, you’re too tired to drive and we all have too much alcohol in our bloodstream, so you’ll be safer here.”
Once again, him and his innate instinct to keep everyone safe, to do what’s best for others, setting even aside his mixed feelings for him at the moment. “Actually you could take the guest room and I would take the couch-”
“Oh no, Frankie, absolutely not. I’ll be fine here in the living room, but thank you.” Frankie nodding at him and wanting so bad to bow on you to kiss you goodnight but your look tells him to just leave you alone and he respects that. And this whole night is leaving a bitter taste on his lips, as he settles down in bed in the guest room, turning off the lights and hearing just footsteps approaching, knowing that it is you reaching the bedroom, the door closing afterwards.
He turns and turns in bed, fighting with himself and with the bedsheets too, not seeming to be able to find some peace, too many thoughts flooding his mind, too many fears.
- Tiebreak -
It’s been hours since he got to bed, having slept probably barely an hour, when he hears again some footsteps behind the door, someone pushing it open.
But those are not your footsteps.
They’re Santiago’s.
The light of the moon falls on him and by his look Frankie can tell that he hasn’t been sleeping either.
“Can’t sleep?” He asks the rethoric question, Santiago nodding lightly and reaching the king sized bed, because even the guest room has one, sitting on the edge of it, right next to Frankie, “I’m sorry about earlier, I feel like I just made it worse between you two.” He utters, watching at his hands, Frankie shaking his head though. “Yeah you didn’t make it easier, but it’s not like anyone could make her change her mind, so it really doesn’t matter.” The anger has faded away now that he’s sitting next to him, the air in the room still and calm. “I don’t know what to do, I would love to have her with us but at the same time I’m scared for her and it seems like I’m the crazy one here.”
“No, Frankie, the crazy one is me for having brought up this mission,” Santiago adds, looking at Frankie, and not seeing resentment at the moment in his eyes.
He doesn’t have the time to respond, since he hears other footsteps and this time it is you coming into the room, being taken by surprise to see Santiago there too.
“Everything alright, love?” Frankie asks, and even after a fight he would still call you love, there are some things he can’t even control.
You rise your shoulders, not nodding though, taking few steps closer to that bed, “Wanted to check on you,” you whisper, “But I guess that Santiago was already doing that.”
And if Frankie is not jealous, you surely are, just that right amount to make you feel envious of Santiago on that bed, even though he’s just sitting there and nothing else. You’ve perceived more than once something more between them two, those lingering looks and some touches that seemed to tell so much more about what might have happened between them. And you wouldn’t mind, but the one thing you would like is for Frankie to actually tell you about whatever might be going on between him and Santiago.
So that is why you’re hesitant at first when you’re approaching the bed, “Anyway, I kept thinking about the mission and yes, it is dangerous and all of that, but I miss having missions with you, Frankie, and even with you, Santiago.” Glancing at him, his expression although unreadable.
“Just imagine how good it would be, the three of us on a mission together and no one else, think about the outcome of it, how we would surely accomplish the mission in no time, because we’re all so skilled and we understand each other with just a glimpse.”
Frankie closing his eyes for a moment, not wanting to give in, doesn’t matter the effect those words are having on him, the thought of having both you and Santiago all for him on a mission, not having to share any of you with someone else from a team. And Santiago thinks the same thing for some reason, that you three would be the dream team and that nothing could stop you.
There is a comfortable silence lingering on you three as you approach Frankie, fingers going under his chin and locking your eyes with him, “Tell me that is not true, tell me that we wouldn’t make a great team, Frankie, come on.”
And Frankie flinches because for sure he doesn’t like to lie and telling you the contrary would be straight up lying to your face and to Santiago’s face, it would feel like he was disrespecting both of you and your skills.
He tightens his jaw, because on the other side he doesn’t want to give you this win, he doesn’t want to fall under your spell so easily.
“Oh you can’t lie to me, right?” Your other hand reaching behind his neck, hearing only that defenceless silence, and getting closer to him, “I know you can’t, Frankie.” You repeat, feeling his hand going over your thigh, thumb circling on you as he tries desperately to tame you in any way, but he knows he’s gonna fail.
And that is how you decide to change the mood, letting the air become more tense. You know what you want.
That is why you straddle Frankie, throwing out of the window the idea of coming to this room to talk only, now your knees dipping onto the mattress, hands going over his shoulders as he just helps you straddle him even better, letting you adjust yourself on his welcoming lap.
“Are you trying to bribe your way in?” He breathes over your lips, as you’re about to kiss him, “No need to do that with my boyfriend,” you lavishly say, “Or maybe I should, after all? What should I do to get a yes out of you?” You brush your fingers over his patched beard, feeling the bed shifting as Santiago is getting up, feeling like tonight he’s reaching new levels of third wheeling.
But you have other plans.
“Where do you think you’re going?” You ask, grabbing his arm and tugging him closer to the bed again and it is insane how he just goes pliant, how he takes those steps back, “I wanted to leave you two alone.” He utters, but you click your tongue, “No need to, Santiago,” you start, now having him sit where he was right before, a satisfied look on your face.
“Do you think I haven’t seen the way you look at Frankie? Or even the way you look at me?” And you can feel Frankie’s hands on your hips tightening his grip, like he wants to find a silent way to tell you to stop. But the truth is that he won’t say a single word, because he is enjoying that a lot.
“It might be your lucky day, Santi.” You finish, your fingers taking his chin and making him look at you, while you still straddle Frankie, “I know you want him, you want me, and well… you want us.”
Your thumb brushes on his bottom lip slightly parted, the plush soft under your fingertip, “What do you say, Frankie? We could have some fun.” You lavishly glance at him, and his fingers don’t have that tight grip on you anymore, rather already going under the hems of your t-shirt, which well, it’s his.
“Fuck…” he breathes, your hand having found its way to his shorts, the back of it brushing on him, telling that all of that is surely exciting him, “Yes, love, yes.”
Santiago is still pliant under your fingers and you make him come closer to you, “I know you’re dying to touch me, to kiss me, just like you’re dying to do that to Frankie, come on, don’t be shy.” You encourage him and he shifts on the bed, sitting closer to Frankie but starting to kiss your neck, your gaze though on Frankie, like you’re challenging him.
Because everything is a challenge right now.
His hands don’t lose the chance to go under your t-shirt, to go and cup your naked breasts under it, Santiago glancing down and almost feeling guilty to be seeing you half naked.
You brush your fingers through his hair, “You can look,” and this time he stops his warm and wet kisses on your neck only to kiss you on your lips, and damn, he’s a good kisser too, his hand going behind your neck, as his thumb brushes on your jaw, taking all your breath away. And fuck, it is a lot to have his mouth on you as Frankie’s hands are still toying with you, even pinching your nipples in that way that you like, before diving on them; his tongue laps on the centre of your chest, then toying with your left nipple, as you involuntarily move on him, your panties rubbing on his bulge, as you’re not wearing any shorts or pants.
You leave Santiago’s lips only to reach his neck, and god the perfume of his skin is invading you, and mixing itself with yours and Frankie’s, inebriating you and your hands slip between them both, reaching Frankie’s shorts again and Santiago’s trousers, definitely feeling his arousment.
You kiss all of his neck, then gracing with your fingers that scar behind his neck, still giving attention to that too, because it makes him so unique; low moans leave both of their lips, and when you look at them, they’re starting to kiss each other, knowing that this is the perfect opportunity to do what you’ve been thinking about for a while, making good use of your hands.
You swiftly unzip Santiago’s trousers, hand going directly on him and feeling a wet spot on the tissue, him almost buckling his hips already at that, and then doing the same with Frankie’s shorts, and he helps you with that, tugging his boxers lower, and letting you take him in your hand, moving the way he likes it; you manage to do the same with Santiago, looking down at his length and well, he’s surely not small either, as your look goes between them both, Frankie’s tip wetting your t-shirt for the way you’re still straddling him.
They moan in each other’s mouths as you start working on them, leaving some kisses on their necks, going back and forth between them.
Frankie cups your face into his hands, now wanting to kiss you only, his lips wet, like the ones tracing your shoulder, your blood pumping loudly in your veins.
“Am I taking good care of my two boys?”
Them both nodding eagerly, “How many times have you done this mutually to each other? How many times have you kissed?”
The question startles them, especially Frankie, even though he really doesn’t have to fear to answer it, “Few times but, I swear to you, before I got with you.” Frankie utters, as a lower moan reverberates from his throat.
You nod, you could have always sensed that they were too close but you never questioned that, and now well, you have your answer.
And when you can feel how they’re becoming harder and harder you leave them all together, wiping your hands on the bedsheets, and even getting up from the bed, a smirk on your face as they are clearly unhappy with that.
“Oh come on, you know what to do.” You say as you lean on the other edge of the bed, now looking at their backs as Frankie turns at you, like for asking for permission, “You go on, I’ll wait.” You climb the bed and go kiss him, as you can see Santiago’s hand wrapping around him and you encourage him to do the same, “I know that you need this, go on, my boys.”
Your voice warm on his neck and you decide that’s what you’re gonna do in the meantime, you’re gonna kiss them relentlessly on their necks, devouring their skin.
And it is so damn fun, to hear the moans leaving their throats just under your lips, your hands sliding up and down on their backs.
It doesn’t take longer and both of them are coming, watching the expressions of pleasure on their faces, white stains and lines on their hands, and it should be gross, should feel gross when Frankie lifts up his hand over your mouth, easing in a finger, and you suck eagerly on it, feeling not his taste, but Santiago’s who well, mimics him and lets his fingers on Frankie’s lips.
And if someone had ever told you you would be in this position, you would have never believed them.
The back of your hands go up and down on them, “Now it’s my turn.” You whisper, leaving them and going to the other edge of the bed, sitting there still in your tshirt and panties.
You click your tongue, both of them looking at you like very obedient pets, and you snap your fingers, looking down at the floor.
They need nothing else to literally rush to the floor in front of you, smirking at them, and especially at Frankie who today went from being mad at you to kneel on the floor for you, such is the grip you have on him.
You widen a bit your legs, hands smoothing on your thighs, their eyes following the movement, “Don’t make me wait too much before you both do something.”
Sooner than said, Santiago is kissing on your thigh, going for the inner part of it, from your knee to slowly making his way until his nose can bump onto your panties.
You can’t help but whimpering at that already, as Frankie instead is kissing your hip, on the opposite side than him, your hands going through their hair, wishing you had a mirror in front of you to look at yourself now, with these two men on their knees for you.
Santiago’s nose bumps on your panties once again, your fingers gracing the back of his neck, “Do you want to have a taste, Santiago?” You lavishly let out, his mouth salivating only at he thought of it, Frankie stopping his kisses on your hip and waist, a hand going around your waist, claiming you, and so you have to give him some attention too.
“You’re gonna eat me out too, you’re both gonna do that, understood? But you have to be good boys, otherwise you won’t get anything.”
And as you’re putting it, it might looks like you’re doing a favour to do them, but it’s really the contrary: you’re doing this for yourself, for your enjoyment and the fact that they are complying so easily is just collateral damage.
You widen more your legs, sitting more comfortably on the bed and feeling then Santiago’s fingers starting to pull the panties to one side, exhaling as the tissue is pushed away and he gets to see you.
Frankie gets your neck, almost wanting to make you forget about Santiago, but how could you ever do that, when his tongue is starting to lap on you, circles being precise on your clit, but still delicate, almost afraid of giving you more, of going full in.
You don’t say anything for now though, you lean back on your arms and let that pleasure wash over you, his fingers pulling the panties more to the side, now being completely exposed and he kisses you all over, wet kisses being delivered to outer lips and inner lips, before his fingers go to spread you more open.
“Fuck,” you exhale, the cold air hitting you, before being replaced by the warm breathing, tongue swirling on you as his hands grab your inner thighs, now being completely open for him; Frankie places a hand over your chest, feeling your beating heart, now that he’s sitting next to you, and he looks down at Santiago, his head disappearing between your thighs, his nose brushing on you and definitely becoming covered in yourself soon enough.
And you know that this is like torture for Frankie, not because of jealousy, no, but because you can see the way he is yearning for you and having to wait for his turn is making him whimper literally over your neck. “What is it, love?” You ask him, his lips closing on your breast, moving the hems of the t-shirt higher, but wishing though that he was doing that somewhere else on your body, “I want to eat you out.”
And he is desperate.
“Well why don’t you get down too, next to Santiago, let me see what you can do.”
And Frankie loves a good challenge so he obeys, going to the floor and nudging Santiago, who is still at it, you pulsing against his lips, delaying your orgasm the best you can, to get the best of both worlds.
Santiago gets to breathe for a moment, before the familiar moustache is pressing on you, tongue more decisive than Santiago, who at the moment is looking up at you, half closing his eyes when you brush your fingers through his hair, “Just keep on kissing me, go on.” And he immediately kisses you on your thigh, every inch of skin that he can reach.
And Frankie is really giving it all to you, hands now grabbing the hems of the panties and yanking them off, “Let me see, let me see her.” He whispers, mouth agape for you to widen your legs again for him.
“God, he got her all wet, didn’t he?” He teases, a finger collecting your wetness, Santiago moving more to the side, kinda understanding the hint of jealousy of Frankie in his voice.
“But I wonder if he can suck you really good like I do, or if he can finger your like I do.” He utters, his thumbs spreading you open, him sighing at your plush and how it’s pulsing for him, “Santi, look how beautiful, you got my girlfriend all wet.” Santiago dying to actually keeping eating you out, but Frankie diving on you instead, famished, like he hasn’t eaten in days.
You almost kick your leg for the force he’s putting into it, actually moving you up on the bed, as he hooks your leg over his shoulder and you let out a pitched scream when he pushes his tongue into you, relentlessly, moving against him.
And Santiago can’t help but taking off that shirt from you, wanting to please you even more, wanting to cup those breasts and pinching those nipples like it seems that you like.
His hands are calloused too over you, now being completely naked in front of them, and yet you couldn’t feel safer, being invaded by pleasure from Frankie, getting you wetter and wetter and Santiago, worshipping your breasts, kissing them and beginning to suck on them, teeth pinching your nipples, one and the other.
And fuck, it is overwhelming, “Santiago go eat me out too.” You tease, him going down and Frankie’s moustache gets replaced by his smoother skin, Frankie brushing a hand over his lips and wanting to dive into you again.
“Frankie, make room for him.” You almost order, still trying not to come, your legs welcoming them both and soon you have both of their lips on you and fuck, this is what heaven must look like, Santiago sucking on your clit as Frankie pushes his tongue into you once again, and you don’t even know how they are managing that.
And soon Frankie’s tongue gets replaced by his fingertip, easing it in, among all your wetness and stretching you the way you need it, “How is it, babygirl? How is to have Santiago’s lips and my fingers?” He asks, as he’s easing another finger in, making you whimper and tighten around him, wanting to close your legs so bad but actually not being able to.
“It’s fucking amazing, keep going.” You breathe, laying completely on bed with your back, almost crying out when Frankie starts speeding up his fingers, slapping inside you, and fuck, you might think he is a devil when he starts eating you out too again, crying out a loud fuck, and moving against both their mouths.
They even share a couple of kisses as they keep working on you, high on the pleasure that they are giving you, kisses being sloppy for how wet their lips are.
Frankie though watches his fingers disappear inside you, curling them and that combined with Santiago’s lips, sucking you even more eagerly, is enough to make you tighten around his fingers wanting even more friction and then a rush of adrenaline igniting your bloodstream, making your body shake out of control, coming all over them, breathing shaky too as you repeat their names, both coming out of your lips.
Frankie keeps moving his fingers, slower, as Santiago presses kisses all over you, your hands brushing over their hair, trying to catch your breath, and a feeling of heat is washing over you, the aftermath kicking as strongly as the orgasm itself, your body still being shaken like electricity is passing through your bloodstream.
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” Santiago breathes over your lips before diving on you, his kiss being almost tender and Frankie rubs his thumb over your clit, still his fingers inside you.
It makes you twitch, your whole body, being so overstimulated, and you know damn well why he’s doing that.
When you part from Santiago, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, you look down at Frankie, stilly kneeling between your legs, “What is that you want, Frankie?” You exhale, but your words are shaky, urging to close your legs, trapping his arm in between, but not even that stops him from going on.
“Is my big boy jealous?” Heart exploding because you don’t know how much you’re gonna take this.
He shakes his head though, and you know he is just bothered, he doesn’t like to share.
His fingers keep being inside you, his thumb padding on your throbbing clit and fuck, if he keeps going like that for longer, you’re gonna come again in a second.
“Then what is it?” You ask, breathless, Santiago kissing your shoulder and you let your fingers run through his hair, the other hand reaching Frankie’s face now that you have sit up, his fingers still sliding in, as you’re leaking on them.
His other hand sprawls on your tummy, “I- I wanted you for me, just for a moment.”
And you can see his leaking tip staining his boxers when he pulled them up; his fingers stop pumping, rather they circle inside you and this is even better, widening your legs.
And you feel Santiago leaving a kiss on your shoulder.
“I will leave you now.” He whispers on your skin, his look though on Frankie.
“But you don’t have to, Santiago.” You exhale, looking at him while Frankie circles his fingers in you and fuck, you won’t even be able to talk if he keeps doing that.
“I do, you two need it, and you also need to talk,” he presses a kiss on Frankie’s cheek.
“Take care of her, alright?”
Frankie smiles, fingers that will go numb in a minute, “I will, I will take care of our girl.”
And when Santiago leaves the room, letting the door close behind him, you take a good at Frankie.
“So now I’m your girl, of both of you?” Your silky voice being betrayed by the way he’s making you wetter.
He nods, “We’re your boys, right?”
He pushes a little deeper, and you nod, “And this is all you’re gonna give me when Santiago is not here?” You challenge him, “Just your fingers?”
Frankie quickly slides out his fingers from you, thumb brushing on your clit, and you whine at that loss.
“Oh I thought that you didn’t want them.” He lavishly lets out, watching carefully your reaction, checking for any sign of tiredness. But there is none.
“I want more, Frankie, haven’t you heard him? You have to take care of me.” You cup his cheeks, the soft beard under your palms as he goes to kiss you on your lips, a hand gently pushing on your chest, letting you lay down on the undone bedsheets.
“So what you’re saying is that...” he leaves the words hanging, a finger tracing your neck as he hovers you, until it meets your collarbones wiping away some sweat.
“Is that I want all of you,” getting a little closer to his ear, as if Santiago could hear you from the living room, “I want your cock, is that enough for you?”
He exhales a low fuck, his hard length already pressing to your thigh, and he quickly gets rid of his boxers again, pumping himself while looking at your spread open legs, your fingers sliding through the wetness and fuck, you really didn’t think that tonight you have ended up in this position.
“Come on, babe, I’m waiting for you.”
And he’s captivated by you, going to kiss you again as he lines up, tip brushing over your clit, sliding up and down until you reach between you two and you get a hold of him; a slow moan gets out of him filling the room, as you guide him through your folds. It’s just the tip, keeping you open and welcoming him into you, as he kisses all over your neck.
And he’s warm against your body, his breathing over your neck as he’s kissing every inch of skin that he can reach, all the arguments from early tonight vaporising in huffs falling from his lips. No more venomous words, no more cold looks, only that warmth filling you and your hands gripping his curls.
You guide him to your lips, kissing him desperately as you plant your heels on his back, wanting more than just that.
“Frankie, baby,” you utter over his lips, his furrowed eyebrows as he sinks into you just a little more, taking your breath away and your lips parting in a moan.
He doesn’t need any more words, Frankie knows you, and soon you can feel his hand gripping under your thigh, lifting it just the right amount and pushing himself a little more again, his fingers digging onto your soft skin.
His other hand goes cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip and you suck on it as he finally starts thrusting into you, one inch more into you with each thrust, until you can feel it all in you, wet and warm.
His mouth has the same warmth, kissing you relentlessly and sinking more onto you, heart exploding in his ribcage when he feels your voice asking for more.
“Just imagine,” you say between some sloppy kisses, “How this would be on,” one more kiss equalising one more deep thrust, “On a mission.”
He bites your lip, “That’s all you can think right now?” His voice reverberating in the room and against your ears.
Frankie gets up, kneeling between your legs and his hands grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he thrusts more into you, watching you your body bounce back at each thrust.
You think you’re actually losing your mind when he spits and it ends onto your clit, as if it needed to be made wetter, his hand landing on it right after, “Still all you can think about?” He asks, his finger flicking onto you until he’s taking it between his thumb and index making you squirm and moving your hips and searching for his other hand to hold onto.
And actually the mission still hits the back of your head, but never like the orgasm that’s building up like electricity, never like him almost pulling out from you only to go back all into you, making you almost bite your hand.
He parts your lips with his fingers, his other hand starting to flick on your clit, up and down, until his fingers can circle your lips all spread over his length.
“Fuck, fuck” and a repetition of his name fall from your lips.
“I guess not anymore, uh? Got something else on your mind now?” He asks, his voice huskier and deeper, and now everything that is on your mind is just him.
“You just wanna come now, right? Then do it, baby, do it for me.”
Frankie lightly and rhythmically slaps your clit, obscene sounds as he keeps thrusting into you and he fills you with his warmth, a loud moan escaping his lips and actually he doesn’t give a fuck if someone from the living room is gonna hear all of that.
“Come, babygirl, come.” He repeats, and you tighten around him, legs wrapped around him as the final slap ends on you before your body is shocked by the orgasm.
You can’t even see anything anymore, it’s just him inside you, his breathing now over your neck and his warmth, that’s all you can feel.
Your breathing is ragged, almost screaming when he gives you another thrust, letting his come getting even deeper inside you, marking you. Breeding you.
“That’s it, that’s it, that’s what my girl needed.” He hushes, coming down onto you, kissing your warm forehead, and in the haze of the orgasm you cannot help but nodding at his words, that’s just the truth. You needed him like the air that you are breathing again right now.
It takes a moment before you can feel him slowly pulling out from you, an instant whine falling off your lips and Frankie kisses that whine away, as he lays on your side and pulls you on his chest.
You kiss his chest, then his neck, only to fall again onto his shoulder, exhausted from the night.
Frankie hears some slurred words from you, “What, baby?” He asks, his thumb brushing over your forehead.
“I meant - can I come with you?”
He pulls you a little closer to him, “Honey, you just did, and I think that’s it for the night-“
“No, dumbass I meant on the mission.” You giggle, hitting him lightly on his shoulder.
He giggles alongside you, now at least the air less tense and filled with that after sex haze.
“We should talk about this tomorrow, it’s too late and you need some rest.” He softly lefts out, before you can feel him covering you with his t-shirt, and then his arms are around you, pulling you up from the bed.
“Frankie, what-“
“And you need a bath, or at least a quick shower.” He says, before he’s getting out of the room with you in his arms and he swiftly opens the door to your bedroom, closing it quickly behind him.
It’s when you’re both under the warm shower that you ask it again, his hands smoothing onto your shoulders and rinsing away the soap.
He lets you face him again, taking your hand into his, and he just looks so adorable with his curls all wet and sticking a little to his forehead.
“Honey, you’re really not letting this thing go?” He asks, kissing your hand, his look soft on you.
And maybe you have got him.
“What do you think? You think I ever surrender to something?” You challenge him again and he shakes his head, once again defeated beneath your making.
“You don’t, I know you far too well.”
You inch a little closer, kissing him on the side of his mouth, then whispering over his lips, “Oh you do... what’s the answer then?”
And Frankie would be damned because he’s weak, far too weak for you, and he’s gonna fall for it, he’s gonna yield to it.
“It’s yes, darling, yes you can come with us.” His words coming out just as natural as you expected, smiling over his lips as you kiss him, hands tracing those wet curls.
A thrill crosses your body at the thought of what that mission is gonna be, what is gonna happen with your two boys with you.
Satisfaction is sweet on your mind, easing it finally after all the turmoil.
