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nanaslutt · 6 months

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Okay but perv Geto is so fucking good and so fucking accurate what if he caught reader using the shower head on herself and decided he would do her one better 👀

perv geto<3 my luv

contains: fem reader, voyerism, perv!geto masturbation(r!&geto), so much dirty talk, sexual tension, praise, degradation, unprotected sex, shower sex, whipped!geto, softer ending, implied aftercare

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Fuuuu-mmm” you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your wines as the strong stream of water from the shower head hit your clit perfectly— the perfect temperature, the perfect pressure.

You had started out standing but quickly decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the smooth tile of the shower floor when you realized how intense the stimulation was.

Your legs were spread while you bucked your hips against the stream or water. Your body was jerking and jolting at the sensation of the water caressing just right under the hood of your clit.

You held your breath as the warm water brought you closer and closer to your high, jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching together as you were pushed off the edge.

“Haaaa-aaah fuck-“ you whined a little too loudly. You felt your walls clench around nothing as your orgasm washed through your body, the warm steady pressure of water was working you over so well, prolonging the intense feeling as you jerked and gasped into the small room of the bathroom.

shlick shlick shlick

“Fuuuuck… cmon go again, do it again..” Geto whispered under his breath from the other side of the door.

You knew you weren’t being relatively as quiet as you know you should’ve been; having a roomate in the house; but you figured the water would drown out most of your noises.

You could not have been more wrong.

For the past five or so minutes that you had been getting up to your antics in the shower, Geto’s ear was pressed against the door, warm hand wrapped around his fist and pumping steadily while listening to your wines and curses as you got yourself off.

He heard you and Shoko talking about this new method to masturbate over the phone the other day, he didn’t mean to ease drop but.. yes he did.

The second he walked by your room and heard you repeat back to shoko, “A shower head? down there? really?” He froze in his tracks, listening to the short conversation after your question that followed.

Ever since that day, whenever you got in the shower he would follow right behind you. The moment he heard the shower come to life, his head was pressed against the thick wood door, listening for any telling signs that you were trying out this new trick you had learned.

And he is so glad he didn’t give up, night after night he spent standing at that door, shuffling his body weight between both of his feet as he waited so patiently to hear something, anything that sounded like you touching yourself, and he finally did.

He wanted to feel guilty he really did, but the vivid image he had painted of you, standing with the shower head you body used, against your clit, moaning and whining as you made yourself cum with it.. the guilt in his body was nowhere to be found.

You panted hard on the floor, squeezing your legs shut in comfort when your orgasm subsided, “holy shit,” you breathlessly whispered, amazed at how good that had felt.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, thinking. The water was still warm, so you couldn’t have been in there for too long.. a second round wouldn’t hurt.. right?

You spread your legs once more, wincing when you brought the shower head back to your clit, face scrunching as you tried to overcome the overstimulation you felt as trying to go again so soon.

You managed to push through it—though you realized you felt ten times more sensitive than before, it was proving to be harder to hold back your noises as you alternated between letting the water spray against your tight hole, and your sensitive little bud.

“Yesyesyes” Geto smiled triumphantly when he heard your noises start up again on the other side of the door after a brief pause. He started up his own hand again, stroking himself faster at the sound of your needier wines this time around.

He was picturing himself standing behind you, his cock fucking in and out of your tight hole while he held the shower head against your clit. He imagined you would protest at how it was too much, too good, to please give you a break— and of course he wouldn’t.

He would fuck into you harder, faster, he would manipulate the shower head in a way so the water was caressing your clit in circles, he pictured you curling in on yourself while you came all over him, he tried desperately to squeeze his hand in a pulsing motion to mimic what he thought your pussy would feel like when your high arrived.

He slowed down his strokes when an idea popped into his head. You could practically see a lightbulb form over him as he completely paused the strokes on his angry dick, quickly pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping them back up.

It was not unusual for the two of you to use the bathroom while the other was in the shower. The sliding shower door was one of those cloudy ones, so you could see nothing but the persons silhouette as they used the shower. The bathroom also had no lock, which Geto thought was absolutely perfect.

He rapped a quick knock onto the wood, “Coming in, gotta brush my teeth” he said as nonchalantly as he could, giving you a could seconds before he cracked the door open.

You were shocked out of your daze, slapping your legs together as the door opened, you prayed he would get his toothbrush and leave, like he usually did, but he had other plan.

“Oh- o-ok-“ You stuttered out when you saw his frame come through the door. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the throbbing between your legs, crying for you to continue the simulation before he interrupted you.

You watched his blurry frame grab his toothbrush, squeezing on the toothpaste and that’s when you froze. You watched as his head turned towards the shower, holding your breath before his deep voice spoke through the room.

“Why are you on the ground?” he questioned, making you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you tried hard enough, you might disappear. “Didn’t hear you fall, you okay?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t on the floor because you fell.

He wasn’t expecting to see you like this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of you having to sit down from how weak your legs were from just putting a shower head to your clit was making him dizzy.

“I-i’m okay,” you answered, praying that would be the end of his interrogation— it wasn’t.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He repeated, a smirk you couldn’t see, spreading itself across his handsome face, “Why are you on the ground if you didn’t fall?” He spoke.

You stayed silent, looking around the four walls of the small shower box you were in, trying and failing to come up with some excuse, instead feeling your mouth flap open and closed like a fish while little ‘uhh’ and ‘umms’ fell from your lips.

You watched his figure sit down on the closed toilet seat. The silence in the room was making your heart race, had he heard you moaning?

“Where’s the shower head?” he asked. You pulled your lip into your mouth and closed your eyes, forgetting that you can see the shower head peak out from the top of the shower door.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, at this point, you knew he knew— and you knew he was teasing you about it.

“Just wanna know where my shower head went, I spent a lot of money for that attachment you know~” He cooed, making you sigh.

“I..” you started, opening your eyes and peeking at his blurry frame through your peripheral vision, “I have it.” You finished.

“Where?” he quickly responded, smile still plastered on his face, his hand coming down slowly to subtly rub himself over his pants, using the obstruction of the blurry shower door to conceal his antics.

“Down here, with me.” You answered. “What’s it doing down there? hmm?” His deep voice resonated.

You started to feel yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t because of the temperature of the water. “I needed it.” you answered vaguely, feeling yourself throb between your legs at this interaction.

“You needed it?” he repeated, rubbing himself harder over his pants, letting out a short laugh when all you responded with was a short ‘mhm’

He watched your form move behind the glass, guessing your legs had spread open again, watching your arm move to place the shower head back between your legs.

He heard your breath hitch quietly when the water made contact with your little bud once more, “Needed it bad, huh?” he spoke again.

You tipped your head back against the shower wall, ignoring the blaring signals of what the hell are you doing this is your roomate, going off in your head. Instead you opted to move the shower head in circles, letting the water caress your pussy in the way you needed.

“Who taught you that huh?” he asked, knowing full well who the culprit was, and internally thanking her. “A-a friend.” you responded, your breath picking up as you spoke.

“Yeah? Did your friend also say it was okay to use my shower head to play with your pussy?” he asked. His vulgar and more direct words made you whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as he continued.

“Y-you like it,” you responded, rolling your hips up into the stream of water.

This caught him off gaurd.

“Don’t t-think I haven’t noticed you outside the door whenever I s-shower ngh-“ you whine, wanting your voice to sound more like you were scolding him, but your words came out rushed and needy instead.

“You wanted m-e to do this,” you finished with a whine when the stream hit your clit a little too intensely.

“Fuck,” he laughed, reaching his hand into his pants once more to pull out his cock and stroke himself properly, “Why didn’t you say anything huh?” he asked.

“Didnt w-wanna ruin your fantasy, p-pervert.” you responded, the name making his cock twitch. “Oh I’m the pervert?” he responded, “Who was the one letting me listen to her shower? the one using my shower head to make herself cum?”

“L-listen to yourself, your just a nasty v-voyeur,” you wined, moans freely falling from your lips now at how worked up this conversation was getting you.

He felt his balls clench at your degrading words, cock still in his hand as he stood to his feet, sliding the slower door open in one swift movement and entering the shower, soaking his clothes as he dropped to his knees, gripping your chin in his free hand as he pressed your lips to his.

“Mmm! Mph-“ You whined into his mouth, feeling his arm rapidly move back and forth between you, his heavy breathing giving away his antics.

You kept the shower head on your clit as the two of you made out. He kissed you like he had been wanting to do this for years, bulling his tongue into your mouth and groaning into your cavern, the two of you swallowing each others noises.

“Sugu- Suguru, fuck-“ you moaned his name needing in between kisses, feeling yourself get pushed to the edge for the second time.

He sucked your lip into his mouth before pulling away and gripping your wrist that was controlling the shower head. “Let me fuck you,” he begged against your lips, “Let me fuck you please.” You were astonished at how quickly he was switching gears. He was so dominant just seconds ago and now he was on his knees in front of you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you.

“I’ll make you cum so much harder than this fucking thing please, let me prove it,” he rushed, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“Okay, okay ye-“ you answer, soul leaving your body when he wrapped his arms around you, yanking the both of you to your feet, he pulled you up by the underside of your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the shower wall.

You were getting whiplash as how quickly this was progressing, you gasped in anticipation as his hand grabbed ahold of his cock underneath you, you gasped when you felt it rub against your entrance.

“You can’t take it, Look at me, you can take it.” He spoke, pressing his his forehead to yours and making you keep eyes contact with him, distracting you from the sheer size of his cock that looked like it threatened to split you in half.

The two of you stared at each other with bated breathe, waiting for geto to slip his cock into your hole. The two of you gasped in tandem when he slid inside, the slide eased by the water.

“Oh fuck,” The dark haired man rolled his eyes back in his head, “So fucking tight oh my-“ He cut himself off when he bottomed out, gasping against your mouth as you wined at the stretch.

You’ve never taken anything inside you even remotely close to the girth and length of Geto’s massive cock. You were glad you came once before and your walls were more pliant, otherwise you would’ve been actually worried that he might’ve split you in two.

“Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you praised, looking down between the two of you and seeing your cunt fully pressed against his abdomen. “S-should’ve stopped being a fucking pervert and g-grew the balls to come in here and f-fuck me week ago,” you giggled.

Geto had no idea why when you spoke down to him it made his cock twitch, his balls would clench and threaten to spill his seed without even moving. Even before he got inside you when he heard the name leave your lips he had to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming prematurely.

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed, before he started a rough pace with his hips, fucking meanly into your cunt.

You bounced forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as high pitch “ah! ah! ah’s” we’re fucked out of your lungs.

“This perv fucking you better than that shower head?” he asked, smiling into the crook of your neck as his cocky pistoned in and out of your hole, his fat tip fucking straight into your gspot.

“D-ont kno-w” your words came out choppy and high pitched thanks to his rough thrusts. “You don’t know?” He repeated, his lip jutting out in a frown as he bounced your body up and down his cock with ease. “Let’s find out then,” he added.

He gripped the sides of your body, pulling you up off his cock with ease and flipping your body around, so you were back to chest with him, just like in his fantasy.

He slipped his cock back inside you, making you whine, your legs shaking and trembling under your own weight, small hands reaching out to grip onto the shower door handle to keep yourself steady.

Geto reached over and grabbed the shower head, picking it up off the ground from the tube part and pulling it up into his hands, he quickly checked the pressure and temperature against his fingers before he wrapped one large arm against your tummy, pulling you back against his chest.

He maneuvered his other hand in front of you, teasing the spray of the water against your pelvis before he spoke, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Geto placed the stream of water against your clit before resuming his brutal pace inside your pussy once more. If it wasn’t for his strong grip against your stomach, you were sure your legs would’ve given out on you.

“Fffuuuuuck-“ You wined, eyes rolling back in your head at the intense pleasure. “Fuck- You’re so much tighter when your little clit gets some attention-“ he choked, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your pussy walls constricting around his cock.

He tipped his head back, jaw dropping as he tried not to lose his own balance, he understood now why you ended up on the floor.

“Not gonna last with your squeezing me this fucking tight.” he warned, his lips coming down to suckle against your neck as the both of you were spiraling closer and closer to your impending orgasms.

“Fuck it’s you- you shi-t,” you tried to tell him, making him grin against your neck, “You fuck me better ha-aaah!” you wined, your arms leaving the shower door to dig your nails into his arm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” He bated, needing to hear you praise him. “So ahhn! So good Sugu! So fucking good, love your cock-“ you got cut off by the first wave of your orgasm, catching you off gaurd suddenly.

“Yeahhh cum all over my fucking cock- good fucking girl-“ your roomate praised, his thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls fought to milk him for all he was worth,

“Gonna make me cum,” he warned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes back when you dug your nails into his arms harder than before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was fucking you straight into overstimulation, you had just come in inch from your life and the stream of water was still steadily massaging your clit, and his mushroom tip was absolutely abusing your gspot.

“Su-“ you tried to speak, to tell him to at least move the shower head but he was out of it himself. The man was fucking you with reckless abandon, humping his dick into your tight walls on instinct, moans freely falling from his lips, his heavy balls making loud vulgar slaps against your ass-

He pulled out just before he came, making him drop the shower head and simultaneously releasing his hold on you, making you drop to your knees.

You looked up at him just in time when he came, his large hand caressed your face while his other stroked him through his orgasm, abs and balls clenching alike while warm spurts of cum covered your pretty face.

“Thank you- Thank you-“ He choked out between the waves of his orgasm, his head was tilted back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut at the intensity, you and never seen a more beautiful sight.

His legs were visibly shaking, fighting to keep himself standing as his fist squeezed out the remaining drops of his cum onto your face.

When he started to come down his next dropped to look at you, gasping, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the art he created on your beautiful face.

When the fuzziness started to fade out of his head he realized how uncomfortable he was, his slacks and button up shirt was half drenched, sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the water. His big hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he squatted in front of you, before bringing both hands down to your face using his large thumbs to rub his cum into your cheeks.

“I-“ He stopped himself, clearing his throat before leaving a soft peck on your lips, “Legs get you cleaned up,” he smiled, scooping you up and letting you wrap your limbs around him like a koala as he carried your wet bodies out of the shower.

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nervousimposter · 11 months

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Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read.

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch.

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes.

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting.

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets.

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us.

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else.

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think.

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you.

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper.

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best!

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial.

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner.

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic

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strang3lov3 · 2 months

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Enjoy the Silence

You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position. (5.2k)

That’s Pedro’s bum can you tell I love ass

Tags- pillow humping, masturbation, getting caught in the act, some humiliation but Joel talks you through it, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, prone bone, softdom Joel, little bit of crying (good tears) creampie, let me know if there’s something I missed.

A/N- Thank you to @tightjeansjavi , @notjustjavierpena , and @noxturnalpascal for all of your encouragement on this I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes AND thank you my dear readers for being patient with me, I’ve been slacking on writing/uploading. I’d love it if you’d say hi to me, I’ve been missing you!! Hope you enjoy this one I’m glad to be back❤️🩷💜💙🩵

It’s too fucking loud tonight. You live with a group of single women in Jackson, all somewhere around your age, a few older, a few younger. You get along well with them, and they get along well with each other. Too well, perhaps. They’ve been talking for hours tonight. Hours. And they talk for hours most other nights too, especially now that the weather is starting to warm up. They’ve been making drinks and playing music, being rowdy. It’s past eleven at this point and they’re still going at it.

You can’t sleep. The blankets are too warm, but without them you’re cold. You’ve flipped your pillow over what feels like hundreds of times. It’s just one of those nights. Except every night is one of those nights, it seems. You tried touching yourself to fall asleep easier, but with no success. It’s not exactly the easiest getting off in such a full house. You’ve got privacy in your bedroom, sure. But the walls are thin and sound carries with such ease.

God, does this suck. A lot of your problems would be solved if you could just get yourself off. You sit up in bed and stare out your window and into the window of the house next to yours. Joel’s window. His lights are off now, but earlier you had caught a glimpse of him getting out of his bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back, his skin shiny and damp. He’s so sexy, so thick. That’s when you moved your hand between your thighs as you watched him pick out clothes from his dresser, biting your lip and circling your clit frantically as you prayed for his towel to drop. It didn’t. It never does. You groaned quietly in disappointment as you watched Joel walk back to his bathroom and then come out moments later fully dressed, subsequently shutting off his lights and leaving his bedroom. For a moment, with your eyes and your thoughts focused on Joel, you were able to block out all the noise and focus on your pleasure. But then he left and the pleasure vanished.

You’ve lived next to Joel for quite a while now. More often than not he’s grumpy, keeping mostly to himself and Ellie. He’d usually just glare at you and your roommates. He can be friendly with others, though.

Once one evening, Joel had spent five minutes knocking at your door to complain about the noise. You saw it coming, you and your roommates had amassed quite a few dirty looks from him in the moments prior. You watched him through the window, glaring at your porch from his own. Your roommates were outside, talking and listening to an old but new-to-you CD. He wore a scowl and his arms were crossed at his chest when you finally opened the door.

“You ladies are chatty,” he grumbled. “Your music’s hurtin’ my ears.”

“We can be chatty, yeah,” you replied, “But you’re kinda crotchety.”

Joel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m askin’ you politely to keep it down,” He turned to leave then, but you tapped the back of his leg with your foot, stopping him, “You could go inside, you know,” you taunted.

Joel turned back around slowly. He looked so big, so broad as he looked down at you. “So could you.”

“Hm,” you hummed. You weren’t really sure why you were arguing with Joel when really, you agreed with him. The CD player sounds tinny and hurts your own ears at times, you can’t imagine what it does to Joel’s damaged ears. And the girls were too loud, other people live around here. But you were annoyed at the way he came over to complain about the noise level when he doesn’t know half of it, how loud it gets. “Fine. I’ll get them to quiet down if you do something for me.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I’m doin’ ya favors now?”

“Something like that,” you said.

“What do you want?” he asked through a sigh.

“You’re right, they’re being too loud,” you explained, “You don’t know how loud it can be, actually. I’ll try to get them to quiet down if you let me get some peace and quiet.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, your house is usually pretty quiet,” you began.

Joel nodded. “Mhm. And I like it that way.”

“And I’ll keep it that way,” you urged. “Please? My roommates are so loud, I can’t even hear myself–”

“Yeah, I know. Come on,” Joel interrupted. “Let’s go inside, then. Talk to your girls tomorrow.”

Joel led you to his house, opened the door for you and brought you inside. He offered you a glass of water and told you to make yourself at home, so you sat quietly on his sofa. Joel sat on the loveseat next to you. He figured you’d have brought a book or something to busy yourself with, but when he looked up at you after a few moments, you had curled your legs into your chest, laying sideways on his couch. He laughed to himself quietly and laid a blanket over your body, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. You had never slept so peacefully. And that’s how the tradition began, Joel would let you come over to enjoy the quietness of his home. You never made good on his end of the deal, though. Your roommates stayed too loud, but it didn’t matter. You and Joel had found a system that worked for you both.

Still staring at Joel’s window, you shift your attention towards the direction of Joel’s front door when you hear it slam shut. You watch him stroll away, probably off to drink with Tommy or something like that.

Your core is still aching, a dull but constant ache. You’re thinking about Joel, unable to get the image of his slick body out of your mind. You’re thinking of the quietness of his house. Peace and quiet would be nice right about now. It’s never this late when you go over to Joel’s. You know you’re welcome over any time. Joel gave you a key to his home when you earned that privilege. But surely he didn’t have that open-door policy for what you’re thinking of using his quiet home for. He wouldn’t know though, right?

Fuck it, you decide, climbing out of your bed and sliding on a pair of slippers. First grabbing Joel’s key from your nightstand, you exit your room and go down the stairs, going towards the back door where you walk past all of your roommates in the living room who don’t seem bothered or worried about what you’re up to this late at night. The chill of the air bites at your cheeks and your shoulders. You didn’t bring a jacket, but the distance from your back door to Joel’s isn’t a long one.

You unlock his back door with your key and let yourself inside, scraping any dirt from your slippers on his doormat so as not to track it inside. It’s always quiet, but the silence is almost eerie. It makes you feel uneasy, doubly so because you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. But you’ll be quick. Joel won’t know, so no harm no foul.

You scan the first floor, looking for a quiet, comfortable area. Joel’s home looks almost like TV in black and white the way it’s so dark right now. The first floor is no good, you’ll feel exposed. So you walk up his stairs, and your first instinct is to go to his guest room. You spend a lot of time there anyway, when you’re not napping on his couch you’re napping in that room. But he keeps it clean for you, pristine. The bed is made neatly and tailored specifically to his taste. You’d never be able to recreate that, he’d instantly become suspicious.

Across the hall is his own bedroom, not nearly as tidy as his guest room. A clothes pile on a chair, the shade of his lamp slightly off kilter. His bed is made up of crumpled sheets and blankets, the pillows indented from the weight of his head. Joel won’t know a thing.

You tiptoe into his room, closing his door but the creak of its hinge cuts through the quiet air and startles you. Maybe it’s better to leave it untouched. You make your way quietly to his bed, first sitting on the edge, your feet dangling slightly in the air. You kick your feet a little, letting your slippers fall off. You feel so out of place here, so wrong. Like you’re invading his privacy, but you’re not. Not really. You’re not here to snoop or to do anything wrong, you’re just here to…well.

You lie back in his bed, his sheets are soft and worn, cold on the back of your legs. Their scent fills your nostrils, they smell like Joel. Like soap and his musk, slightly sweaty. It’s almost like he’s here with you. Spreading your legs and dipping your hand beneath your pajama bottoms, your mind starts to wander. Tracing your clit with your fingers, your brain is flooded with flashes of Joel. At first, it’s images of his neck, his forearms, his hands, all the veins protruding, muscles flexing. You’re circling your clit faster as you imagine he’s here with you, that it’s not his bed you’re lying against but instead his chest, he’s holding your knees apart as he nudges your head to the side with his nose, your neck exposed for him to lick and kiss and nip as you tease your cunt. You come quickly and your fantasy drifts from you. You make yourself come once more before you adjust the bedsheets slightly, put your slippers on and leave. Joel’s bedroom looks just as he left it.

You watched him, learned his evening schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s out on evening patrol, he doesn’t come home until the early morning. Those are the nights you sneak over to his house. As time goes on, you learn that you can be less careful. You don’t bother wiping your shoes, you don’t tiptoe like you used to. You’ll push the bedroom door open wide when Joel leaves it halfway shut. When you leave, you don’t bother laying the sheets back in the way Joel has them crumpled.

Joel notices.

You still come over for your usual quiet time, and Joel studies you. He’s begun sitting close to you, trying to memorize the smell of your shampoo on your hair. He thinks he smells it on his pillow. And the scent of your body, your soap and your perfume. He thinks he can smell it on his sheets. He thinks he can smell you on his sheets.

You stay too long in his bed one Thursday night, startled when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the distance. You bolt out of his bed, going down his stairs both as quickly and as quietly as you can. You shouldn’t have been so ballsy. Joel thinks he hears the door close but doesn’t pay it much mind as he undresses and gets into bed, and he doesn’t even notice you running back to your house from his window. What he does notice, however, is the way his bed feels warm as he lays down. He runs his hand along the length of his bed, the sheets feel cool on the opposite side. When he flips on his side, his nose nudges against something damp on his pillow. That’s when he sees your light flickering on from across the distance between your two windows, he sits up in bed to get a closer look at you. He watches your chest heaving like you’re out of breath, perhaps from sprinting across his lawn. He watches you then fall on your bed, he sees both of your knees hike up and spread apart. That’s when he puts two and two together. Suspicions confirmed.

He always knew you were trouble. And now he knows what you’ve been up to, trespassing to touch yourself in his home, in his bed, without him. You goddamn deviant. He’s gonna catch you in the act.

Four whole days go by, which gives Joel enough time to find someone to cover his evening patrol. It’s Tuesday night and he’s got his bedroom lights off so you can’t see him watching you from his window. You look antsy, pacing back and forth across your room, frequently checking your window to see if he’s left yet. When Joel does leave his home, he’s conscious to not look behind himself at your window, to see if your light turns off. He doesn’t want you to know that he knows. He doesn’t look to see if you’re sneaking through his lawn. Instead, he keeps walking, giving you ample time to really screw yourself. When he feels a sufficient amount of time has passed, he turns back around and walks home. He enters his front door slowly and quietly, like a ghost. He takes careful steps through his living room, up his stairs. When he reaches his room, he pushes the door open wider and leans against the frame, listening to your breathy moans, watching you grind on his pillow in the low light of his room. You’re gripping his headboard as you whine, you’re even wearing one of his dirty flannels. Sick puppy.

“Joel,” you moan to yourself. “Joel, oh god–” the lights turn on and you turn your head to see Joel leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed.

“Joel!”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel murmurs. “Caughtcha, didn’t I?” Any words you could possibly think of are caught in your throat. You feel hot, itchy. Joel notices the key he gave you sitting on his dresser and spins it around his finger. “Wasn’t what I had in mind when we set up our little arrangement.”

“I was– I wasn’t–” you shift uncomfortably as Joel puts the key down.

He shuts his door and approaches you on his bed, first examining his headboard. He hums when he sees there’s little indents in the wood from your fingernails, marks on the wall behind the headboard. It all makes sense now. When Joel sits next to you on his bed, you quickly slide your ass off of his pillow and away from him. He’s quicker, tugging your– his flannel in the opposite direction, forcing you back to your place. “Nuh-uh,” he chides. “You stay right there.”

The air feels thick and Joel’s eyes are dark, almost inky black. You can hardly look at him, his intense gaze making you squirm. So instead you look down, where he plays with the fabric of his flannel, admiring the way it dances on your thighs with his touch. He lets a silence hang heavily between you both as he presses his lips in a thin line, waiting for you to explain yourself. You don’t. You can’t. You feel so exposed, so ashamed of yourself.

“Whatcha been doin’ to my pillow?” he finally asks. His voice is low, quiet and deep. He’s met with more silence. “Makin’ a mess, s’what. Up to no good, hm?” More silence as you adjust his flannel over your body, protecting your modesty. “I’m askin’ you a question,” he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact.

“Yeah,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your face is hot, your waterline is brimmed thick with tears, a few spilling over. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Ohhh, I know,” Joel coos, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “M’not tryin’ to embarrass ya, darlin’. S’human nature.” You can’t even begin to think of a way to get out of this situation. “S’that pillow ‘sposed to be me?”

“Yes.”

“Figures,” Joel mumbles. “Makin’ me blush,” he taunts, tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. His touch makes your tummy flutter, it feels misleading. Like you’re enjoying it almost, though you shouldn’t be. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says. “Didn’t need to make believe with my pillow. Get yourself into all this trouble.” You can’t quite get a read on what his angle is here. Still aroused and you feel nervous, small, guilty – awaiting punishment of some sort.

You’re defeated. All you can do is nod in understanding. You find the bravery to meet his eyes, his gaze still dark and intense, perhaps even hungry. He walks his fingers up the length of your thigh, noticing how you twitch as he nears your center. “I’ll go easy on ya f’ya tell me the truth. How long you been doin’ this, sweetheart?”

You are in trouble. He’ll go easy on you if you tell him the truth. “I dunno,” you whisper.

“Sure you do.”

You don’t even know. A few weeks, a month maybe. You shrug.

“Think you wanna be honest with me,” Joel advises, provoking you slightly. Nothing from you. “S’alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just means you’re gonna finish the job.”

“What?”

“You’re gonna finish what you started,” he says. “And this time I’m gonna stay right here and watch.”

Your heart drops. You search Joel’s eyes, looking for some sort of indication that he’s fucking with you. You’re not sure that you’re capable of this. Sex and masturbation are already two different animals. Getting off in front of the man you fantasize about in his bed? Where would you even begin?

“You had the balls to start this, you’re gonna finish it. Come on sweetheart, show me how you do it,” Joel nods, gesturing for you to begin. When you don’t, Joel scoots even closer to you on the bed. “So shy, aren’t you?” He turns his body toward you slightly, outstretching an arm across your body and then holds your hip in his strong hand. He begins to guide your movement, encouraging you to rock back and forth on his pillow. But you’re stiff in his hold. “Come on now,” he encourages, “Y’can even hold my hand f’ya want.”

Joel holds his free hand out to you, still moving your hip with the other. He knows how vulnerable and exposed you feel right now. Taking his hand, your other gripping the headboard once more, you still can’t meet his eyes, Instead you squeeze them shut, your hips following the guidance of his grip.

“Why you bein’ quiet?” he asks, “Need to hear ya.”

Complying with his request, you let out a shaky and small moan. More of a whisper, really. He hums in approval, encouraging you to be louder. You’re starting to build a pace and find your courage, at least a little.

When you let out a real moan, a real sound of pleasure, Joel squeezes your hip. “Ohh, there it is. Good girl,” he coos, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

It’s instantaneous, the way his praise goes right to your core. You’re rocking your hips faster now, adjusting yourself to find a better angle. You can feel your own slick beneath you on the fabric of Joel’s pillow, wetting your thighs and your ass. His hand grips your own firmly, holding you steady, reminding you that he’s here with you.

Joel smirks as you move on your own accord. He lets go of your hip to explore your stomach and your torso with his palms, his fingertips dancing along the underside of your breasts. He sits up to get closer to you, tweaking one of your nipples beneath his fingers and sucking the other into his mouth, licking and swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, tugging the strands as you ride his pillow.

This is all he wanted. To watch you leave your mark on his clothes, in his bed, on his walls. He pulls away from you and watches you in admiration, moaning softly when he finally presses his palm against his bulge. He undoes his jeans and pushes both them and his boxers down his thighs, then removes his shirt. He grips his cock tightly, biting down on his moans as he gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He thinks you’re getting close now. Your hips are beginning to stutter in their movements, you’re getting quiet now like you’re concentrating on your pleasure, your body’s tensing up. He’s been so focused on you, he’s forgotten all about the fact that this is supposed to be your punishment for trespassing.

Fuck. The punishment.

Joel doesn’t have a clue how he’ll punish you as he lurches forward, kneels behind you and pulls your arms from the headboard. He hopes he’ll find the answer along the way. All he knows is that you’re not coming, not yet. Especially not by your own doing. Yeah, that’ll work, he thinks. He’ll bring you to the brink of orgasm, make you beg and apologize before finally letting you come. Maybe he’ll not even let you come, he’ll see how he’s feeling as time progresses

Joel holds your arms behind your back in one hand and you yelp in surprise, then he adjusts his placement and pulls you back by your legs until you’re prone on his bed. “Up, sweetheart, up,” he mumbles, lifting your hips and pulling his pillow back, propping your ass up for him. The dampness of your arousal on his pillow feels warm and sticky against your tummy.

He palms your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before parting your cheeks with his thumbs. He runs a single digit through your soft, slick folds, humming as you tremble beneath his touch. You’re so wet. “What a fuckin’ mess,” he purrs, pressing his middle finger against your entrance, circling it before pushing inside. You keen into his touch, arching your back for him.

“Joel,” you whine as he pulls his finger out.

“Do you know what a mess you made?” He doesn’t bother letting you attempt to respond, you’re way too addled for his touch to answer his question coherently. Joel dips his tongue between your sensitive folds, replacing his fingers. Just like how he touched you moments prior, he traces your entrance with a pointed tongue before dipping it into your heat. Your arousal is like honey, so thick and sweet on his lips.

He tastes you, savors you as he kisses your cunt. He’s lapping through your slick folds, his tongue parting all of your sensitive flesh, sensitive just for him. You can feel the wiry hairs of his beard tease your clit before he dips his lower, circling and flicking your bud with the muscle. He sucks it between his lips, making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. “Joel, oh my god.”

Your fantasies of Joel were never like this, never so indulgent. He’s sucking at your clit, then licking, nipping at your folds, before focusing his attention back to that bud. You’re moaning, pushing your ass back and grinding against his mouth, feeling his aquiline nose tease your hole. He’s buried between your most private place, his tongue flicking and swirling with such fervor. You’re biting into his sheets and seeing stars when he enters you with his fingers once more, curling them into that sweet spot inside of you.

You’re bucking against his face, your slick soaking his fingers to the knuckle, spilling into his palm. His fingers’ movements don’t falter as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, trailing kisses over the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“I’m so close,” you answer through a gasp.

Joel kisses up your ass cheek, “How many times did you make yourself come in my bed?”

“Twice,” you reply. You’ll answer any question he asks now.

“Only twice?”

“Tonight.”

“Ohh,” Joel says. “Twice tonight. How ‘bout in total?”

You don’t know the answer. Of course you don’t. He’s doing the math in his head as he fingers you. He’s thinking at least twice a night, twice a week. This venture of yours has probably been taking place over a couple of weeks. So that’s…more than enough, he decides. “Yeah, ‘course you don’t know. S’lot though, hm?” He lifts his face to watch you nod. “In that case, m’not sure that you need to come again.”

“I do,” you whine, “I need it, Joel.”

“You want it–” Joel pulls his hand from your core and you cry at the loss. God, you wish his mouth was back there. “You be good to me and I’ll consider it.”

Joel pumps his cock momentarily behind you before he nudges a knee between your thighs. “Wider,” he instructs, leaning over you from behind. He brackets your thighs with his own, one hand on your waist as he notches the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t yet push all the way in, though. Instead, he waits as you squirm and arch your back for him, trying to take more than what he’s giving you. You whine in frustration. “Easy, now,” he warns. “Should ask permission. Nicely.”

“Please, Joel,” you say, “Fuck me.”

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises, working into your body. You sigh in satisfaction as he buries himself in you fully, his tuft of coarse curls scratching against the skin of your ass. “Wasn’t so hard, hm?”

Joel tightens his grip on your hips, denting his nails into your skin like how you did to his headboard. His thumbs are pressed firmly into your lower back as he begins to roll his hips into you. The way he thrusts so languidly into you makes your head fuzzy, the only thought you can focus on being the sensation of his thick cock parting your insides. He’s fucking you steadily now, and you can feel the skin of his thick, pillowy tummy caressing your back with every stroke. Fuck, how good he feels.

He fucks you apart, setting a steady rhythm. Joel knows how much you needed him, how much you wanted him before now. How you love it, how it’s nothing but pure pleasure that makes up your whimpers and gasps and the tears on your cheek. He leans lower, covering your hand with his own and intertwining his fingers between yours. You shiver as he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, then licks and kisses your ear, his mustache tickling your skin as his nose nudges your temple gently. He takes a moment to kiss away your tears and rests his arm around the crown of your head, caressing your hair before fucking you wildly.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

“So good,” you choke out.

You can feel Joel’s grin against the shell of your ear. “Just how you imagined when you were fuckin’ yourself on my pillow, hm?” he purrs.

“Better,” your answer is honest.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “Good answer, sweetheart.”

He curls one of his forearms beneath your bicep, reaching for your breast and tweaking, pinching you as he wraps his other arm around you, searching for your pussy with his hand. He finds your sensitive bundle of nerves and draws lazy patterns over it, teasing you. You’re so wet. So slick, your pussy gushing with each stroke of his cock deep inside you. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are lewd, obscene as he pounds his hips against your body. He’s grunting, gasping in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.

You’re twitching and bucking your hips, chasing that tightness beginning to build in your tummy. “Easy,” he murmurs. “Let me take my time with you.” He knows how desperate you are to come, but Joel makes you wait a little longer, feel the burn some more.

You’re whining and squirming as Joel fucks you, his face buried against your neck the hair on his cheeks scratch you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin as you let out your breathy little moans. In every inch of his body, he feels it–that power he holds, knowing you’re aching to come on his cock and it’s all because of him, it’s all for him.

His cock is beginning to twitch and he’s feeling that warm, sticky feeling in his gut and deep in his balls, he’s not lasting much longer now. He fucks you harder. “What about now, huh?” he grunts, “Should I let you come now?”

“Yeah,” you moan. “Yes. Let me, let me.”

“Then ask me,” he whispers, momentarily slowing his pace. He draws in and out of you slowly as he speaks, “S’all I wanted you to do, just ask me.”

“Please let me come, Joel,” you ask.

“Good girl,” He brings his hand to your face, shoving his fingers past your lips. You know what he wants, no need for his instruction. You’re moaning, sucking on the digits as he fucks you, the motion of his thrusts grinding your clit into his warm palm. Joel feels you begin to tense up as you choke on his fingers. “There you go, let go, let go f’me. You’re alright,” he coos. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

You’re stiffening underneath him, eyes screwing shut as you let yourself go. You come on his cock and against the calloused palm of his hand, ecstasy washing over you in thick, electrifying waves. Joel watches your face closely, he memorizes your cries of pleasure and how you convulse beneath him. He’s fucking wrecked you.

You’re gurgling on Joel’s fingers that are still in his mouth as he slides his other hand away from your cunt in favor of resting it up high by your head. It’s his turn for release now. He’s without a thought when his hips begin to stutter as they lose their rhythm, the frenetic slamming of his body against yours indicating his closeness. He lets out a symphony of grunts and moans into your ear as he comes inside you, painting your insides with his spend, milking himself entirely. You take it all, everything he gives you, whining at the overstimulation and the way his release makes you feel so warm and full. Your cunt is slippery with his come as his thrusts begin to slow, slow some more until he stills inside you completely, resting on top of you. With a groan, he pulls out to admire his work, to watch how your combined arousal spills on his sheets. He uses two fingers to push some of his escaped come back inside you.

You stay laying on your tummy as you cross your forearms to use as a pillow to rest your head. Joel meets you on his bed, also laying on his tummy. You hadn’t even realized he undressed himself.

He reaches over to caress your cheek, then your flannel-covered back. “Nice touch,” he murmurs. “S’pretty on you.”

“Smells like you,” you confess quietly. “Turns me on.”

Joel makes an amused face as he nods. His eyes are sparkly but sleepy and your cheeks are warm, you bite down on a shy and embarrassed smile. He smirks at that. “So bashful,” he purrs. “You’re welcome to use my home and wear my clothes for your dirty work any time you like,” he says. “Just invite me every now and then.”

If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment, rb, or send me an ask, tell me your thoughts. Your kind words and engagement keep me motivated to write

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

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Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Extreme Fluff!! Sweet Intimacy!!! A little canon cannibalism

Description: Different ways Alastor likes to be pampered by Wifey!Reader

When it comes to his wifey...Alastor is super spoiled and he knows it, craves it like nothing ever before

He's a glutton for your attention and everyone knows it

Every little act of kindness, every drop of affection and loving gaze just melts over his (shriveled black)heart like a sugary glaze

Mmmmmm glazed hearts

Great now he's hungry

ANYWAYS-

Even the normal everyday things make him feel warm and fuzzy inside

Like when you bring him his favorite tea in the mornings, giving him a soft kiss on the side of his face as you drape your arms around him

"Mm...good morning my dear..."

Or when you smooth over an unruly hair for him or fix his bow tie before he leaves the hotel

You can't have your snookums going out looking like some scruffy strawberry clown

You always make sure his staff is clean and polished, suit flawless and pressed, shoes shiny before he has an overlord meeting

You're NOT going to let your pookie bear hang around the other overlords with smudged shoes

Just. No.

Loves the days that you drag him off to the bathroom to coax him into a hot bath

"You've been so tense lately... let me take care of you..."

How can he say no to you?

He just relaxes and closes his eyes, letting your gentle fingers massage his scalp as you lather shampoo in his hair

The candles and bubbles 🫧 were a good touch too 👌

He almost always falls asleep by the time you're done massaging and cleaning him up, once you start scrubbing under his nails then he's OUT LIKE A LIGHT

Not that you mind, he's so attractive when he's sleeping

WAIT HUSBAND DON'T DROWN

Wakes up to an empty bathtub and a warm towel being wrapped around him by his delicious boo

You're so good to him how did you know he needed this

Always finds himself in a better mood after that, like his problems have all been washed and scrubbed away by your gentle pampering

He secretly loves it when you come by his radio tower with a fresh lunch, interrupting his set just because he needs to eat

Though he pretends it's a big hassle

He savors the food you bring him either way, walking you to the door afterwards and thanking you for thinking of him

Bby boy that's all you do is think about him

He locks the door on your way out tho

Alastor loves the way you convince him to come to bed with you, knowing he needs to sleep but also armed with the knowledge that he'll fight bedtime like a child

You leaning on the doorway already in your sleep attire, giving him a soft pout as he tries to continue his work and ignore you

"Alastor..."

Not his ears flicking up at the sound of your voice

When whining doesn't work, then you slink your way over to him, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at you

He's trying so hard not to though, the moment he looks at your face then he knows he's done for

"Look at me, darling~"

Okay maybe just a quick glance-

Alastor you are a strong man, you are cruel and sadistic and you are an overlord with very important business!! You can handle telling your wife no-

Ffffffffuck.

Not the gooey goo goo doe eyes

Immediately leans into your touch, savoring the feeling of your fingers stroking his cheek

Not his tail fluttering

"Come to bed already~ I can't sleep without you, you know..."

And that's how you convince him to get to sleep every single night, a full 8 hours or whatever is recommended in Hell

Getting out of bed is hard for him because you look so delectable asleep and curled into him

Maybe he should take more time to pamper you too

But he's a selfish, greedy man who likes being spoiled by his wife so that thought is gone as fast as it came

He gets out of bed just to watch you whine and blindly reach out for him, so adorably pathetic

Okay just five more minutes of snuggles then I gotta go-

If he's cranky then you manage to convince him to nap, patting your lap and stroking his hair once he lays his head down

Your soft singing lulls him into a light sleep as you scratch and rub the ends of his ears

Wakes up drooling

Wakes up with his face buried in your stomach, arms locked around your waist as he sleepily breathes in your scent

How is he supposed to get any work done with you around????

Alastor loves all those things but his favorite way that you spoil him?? His number one fave?? That he would never admit to anyone??

When you give him your special smile, the one that's always been his to see and his alone

The smile that conveys enough warmth and love to make all of Hell seem like Heaven, at least for him anyways

The same smile that he first saw when you told him that you loved him, the same smile that tells him you still love him

You spoil him

Alastor thinking of his wife:

#alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor being whipped!! Yes #wifey being whipped!!! YES #The deer himself getting spoiled??#YES #does he deserve it???#...no...#do we want it????#??#y-yes?

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beeehiives · 2 months

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Give me Baker!Steve who wakes up at four and gets into the bakery at five to start preparing ingredients and heating up the equipment.

Give me Bartender!Eddie who's getting off work around the same time, who always stops by the shop to bother (read: flirt with) the hunky baker man and snag some left over pastries from the previous day.

Steve always complains, but leaves the shop door unlocked anyway. Eddie's always a little ruffled from his long shift, and the way he leans into Steve's space from tiredness always makes him shiver.

After months of this, Eddie doesn't come into the shop one morning.

Steve finds the shop this early too quiet, missing Eddie's warm voice and comforting presence.

After getting the first batch into the oven, he heads next door, where he finds Eddie fast asleep on one of the stools, head resting against the bar. It's empty except for the two of them.

"Eds," Steve taps his shoulder gently. "Don't you have to close up?"

Eddie opens his eyes slowly, winces in pain at the ache in his shoulders from sleeping in such an awkward position.

"I usually don't fall asleep," Eddie says, locking eyes with Steve. He looks bashful. "It's only an hour."

"Huh?" Steve drops his hand from Eddie's shoulder, but stays close. He can smell the alcohol on him from a long night of serving drinks, can see the bags underneath his eyes and the gentle smile that tugs at his lips.

Steve thinks he's beautiful.

"Bar closes at four. I usually just finish cleaning and hang out til five." Eddie brushes a stray bit of flour from Steve's cheek.

"Why don't you ever just go home? You must be tired," Steve says slyly. He's grinning, slowly moving closer into Eddie's space.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't get to talk to you," Eddie whispers, putting a hand on Steve's waist. "Highlight of my night."

Steve reaches behind him to pick up a napkin and pen, and jots his number down. He leans forward, placing one hand on Eddie's shoulder and the other places the napkin in the front pocket of Eddie's shirt.

"I get off at twelve today," Steve says. "Go to sleep. Come talk to me when it's light out."

Steve leans forward and brushes a light kiss on Eddie's cheek, before ducking out of the bar to continue his baking, leaving Eddie breathless and more awake than he's ever felt in his life.

( ノ・・)ノ========================== ~( ˘▾˘~)

#bars in some places close late as hell #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson

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tigerpeachs · 7 months

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Drunk On You - Itadori Yuuji

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, itadorixreader, pet name usage, afab reader, pwp, alcohol consumption, restroom sex, public sex, cream pie

-`ღ´- wc: 3.1K

-`ღ´- a/n: I didn’t get to go out because my bank account is empty AND there's a dumb storm in my area. So, while bitterly sitting on my phone, I wrote this whole thing in a single text post. Might be errors but fuck it we ball.

-`ღ´- synopsis: Itadori wants to be a protective friend, but he’s still a man and he’d be stupid to let this opportunity slip by. Basically, you go clubbing with the girls and end up creampied in a nasty club restroom. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Itadori Yuji was a man at the end of the day. He wanted to be a friend and a caregiver at all times to those close to him. But he can only handle so much.

He didn’t care much about going out, but when Nobara and you explained it’s important to have a guy around for safety, he begrudgingly agreed to join you guys. He feels a little out of place being the only guy around when Nobara, Maki, and you are slamming back shots while picking out outfits and make up. Sometimes Yuuta makes an appearance but tonight he’s “busy”.

Yuji didn’t believe that for a second. He probably was just sleeping in after lounging around with Toge. The thought was taken off his mind as soon as you strolled over with two shots. Tequila. No lime wedge or salt in sight. He gulped harshly, before meeting your eyes.

“C'mon Yu, please. The girls won’t drink tequila with me.” You whine to him, cheeks already flushed from drinking. He tries to laugh and puts his hand out to push the shot away, but you persist, dropping the glass. Itadori’s hand shot out to catch it. The liquid spilled across his hand and you continued your begging.

“Look! It’s less full now, you don’t even have to take a full one, so please?” You pout and your eyebrows furrowed together in a faux fashion.

He can’t help smiling at how persuasive you were. You just wouldn’t quit, would you?

“You’re gonna get me in trouble! How am I supposed to protect you and DD like this?” He whisper-yells, all to play along with his role for the night. But yet again, you pushed forward.

“Cmon, Yuu, please? Don’t make me drink alone,” your voice became softer and timid as you said the last part. You batted your eyelashes at him and nudged the shot in his hand up. Itadori always feels warm when you give him attention, and now is no different.

If he took the shot would you leave him? Or would you stay close to him, happy that he listened? Is it manipulative if he wants to do whatever makes you stay close to him?

“We’re leaving in five!” Nobara called out, causing you to gasp.

“Please,” you tried one last time. And Itadori sighed before raising the shot in the air. You smiled with those pink glossy lips and joined him.

Up. Down. Drink.

It wasn’t the worst shot he’s taken but it caused his jaw to tense and his lips pursed together. You laughed at his reaction, getting out a little sympathic “Oh Yu.”

Getting to the club was a blur. He remembers Nobara sitting in the front to control the music while you and Maki sang your hearts out in the back of the car. Then he was in the club, ordering drinks for you all.

He got himself a beer and slowly passed out the drinks. When he turned around, you weren’t there. He sighed in defeat, knowing you probably rushed to the dance floor the moment you heard a solid base drop.

Maki and Nobara, with secured drinks, were already going over to the DJ to request whatever music they wanted. Then there was you, alone in the crowd, twisting and whining your hips to the beat. He hated to admit it, but the way you danced had every guy looking your way, including him.

You rolled your body to the sound, throwing your hair to the side. Your split hem skirt was riding up quickly from the constant up and down your hips and ass did. The bass could be felt through the floor. It resonated in your ribcage as you shook your body. Dropping low, rising again, and you kept your eyes closed knowing any contact made with someone else would result in an unwanted invitation.

It wasn’t until Itadori finally reached you, that you finally let a smile grace your features. He passed you the drink and you tried saying “you didn’t have to” over the music but Itadori pretended not to hear you.

“Hmm?” He questioned and you decided to reach up and grab the nape of his neck. Your fingers slid across his undercut as you pulled him down.

“I said!” You lost your thought as his cologne filled your senses. It made your tongue heavy and you had to swallow before continuing. “I said you didn’t have to!”

Yuji pulled back a little bit to smile at you. “I know that, I wanted to,” he said. The cost of the tab was lower than the cost of some creep trying to hit on you or your friends.

Before you could admit how happy that made you. The intro to your favorite song dropped. You widen your eyes, looking over at the DJ booth to see Maki and Nobara cheering as the song starts. You laugh as other girls in the club start to dance with more vigor. Itadori did his best to raise his drink and stop it from spilling as people started to crowd the floor more.

Soon enough you were wedged between him and other girls. You tried to keep things fun and low risk by making a face and moving your head back and forth to show Itadori you enjoyed the song. He did the same, trying to move in sync with you.

You knew Itadori knew how to dance. You chalked it up to how fit he was but nothing more. You knew he settled with his two steps and light shuffling to the beat for the group's sake. You sipped on your drink, watching him through your lashes.

Eventually you found yourself with you back facing him. Yuji couldn’t help but watch you rock your body back and forth, you whined your hips, tightening and rolling your abdomen. Your ass sat right in front of him, moving up and down. He knew his face was flushed and it wasn’t because of the damn beer he was nursing.

You lose your footing, stumbling back against him. Yuji caught you with a hand on your hip. You looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with him. An unintentional invitation was presented to you both. You could probably blame it on the atmosphere and the alcohol in your system, but you both refused to move back.

You looked forward again. The moves started subtle. A whine with a dip. Itadori watched as you held the same movement for a second, letting him catch up to you. His hand on your hip ran across your front as he pulled you back against him. He rocked side to side, closing his eyes to savor your ass settling on his groin.

He’s supposed to be looking out for you.

Itadori grounds himself as your rock your ass against him. He works to follow your movements, dragging the hand on your hip across your form. He feels hot. His cock was stiffening from the moment you tried to beg him to take a shot with him. He rasped out as you danced on him, causing your ass to shake right on him.

He pulls you up, his chest right against your back. He’s at a loss for words. All he can think about is how fucking good you feel pressing against him. You’re so soft and supple. You smell so good. He tried to make sure moments like this never happened beforehand. He’d opt for other guys coming or making sure your front ways face his front. He’d leave room for Jesus if there was space to do so.

His best friend was grinding on his fucking dick and he didn’t even care to stop you. He fucking wanted it. He’s wanted it for so long. You stood straight, reaching back with a free hand to grab the nape of his neck again. Itadori looked down at your frame. You didn’t opt to say anything but with his chin hooked over your shoulder, he could see right down your skimpy top.

You boobs jiggled with each move your body made. His hand unconsciously started to drift upwards. His fingers played with the hem of your top. His muddled mind tried to work through everything going on. He felt sensitive. Between the people brushing against you both and you latching on to him, he couldn’t be bothered to recognize what song was playing or how your drink spilled over a few times.

But what he did hear, through the people, through the music, was a little soft whine that you bit off as Itadori teased the skin right under your breast. You wanted more. You wanted him to stuff his fingers down your skirt and feel how wet you are under your clothes. You wanted him to bite and suck on your neck just as you dreamed about doing to him.

He’s supposed to protect you.

Itadori lets your little hands pull at his large form. You slowly push through the crowd towards the nearest restroom. The drinks were long forgotten, dropped into the nearest trash can. The haze from grinding on Yuji didn’t pass, even though you both were separated now. You kept a hand wrapped around his as you knocked at the door in front of you. After a few seconds you rattled the doorknob and noticed it was unlocked.

He knew. He knew if he went in there with you, things would change forever. He swallowed trying to get rid of the irritation in his throat. You opened it slowly, not releasing his hand. Itadori wanted to be good.

He wanted to be a good friend for you. So he finally opened his mouth.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” He offered. But he should’ve known better than to stop you.

You continued to give him that sweet clueless look on your face. You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you started to reach for your skirt, lifting it while saying “You gonna fuck me out here then?”

Itadori rushed to push your hands down, shoving the door open. He slammed you against the door frame the moment it was closed.

It was gross there. The floor is covered in alcohol and piss, the toilet is dirty and the sink has plastic cups collecting in it. The music was muffled through the door but you could still feel the base throughout the building. But neither of you cared as Yuji rutted his hips against yours.

You whined as he kissed your skin and grinded his hips back and forth against you. Your hands gripped at his hair and he wrapped around your ass, pulling you up to his height.

“You want me to fuck you?” Itadori rasped out between the kisses. He swore he could feel how wet your puffy cunt was even through your clothes. “You want my dick? Hmm?” He pressed forward. You whimpered instead of answering.

“Talk to me, pretty,” he begged. His hips halted and he pulled his face back to look at you.

Oh fuck.

Your eyes were glassy and your lip gloss tempted him under the crappy lighting. You looked like you were on the verge of tears from all this unintentional teasing.

“Please, Yu, i'm so,” you hiccuped and your hands grabbed at him for emphasis. “I’m so wet, please fuck me. Pretty please?” Yuji groaned before leaning in. He slotted his mouth right over your plump ones. You moaned and reached down for his cock. Your sloppy hands did their best, and after consistently fumbling, you finally got his belt undone.

You sighed into his kiss, letting his tongue overtake yours. His lips moved in motion with yours, tongue swiping over yours every time you pressed forward. Yuji tried to slide a leg underneath your cunt but you finally remembered the task at hand. You went back to fumbling with the button of his pants and moaned when you finally got them undone.

Itadori could faint from feeling your fingers urgently searching for his dick. He knew his tip was leaking in his underwear. He’s been hard for too long and he can’t wait to feel you wrapped around him. He’s jerked off so many times wondering about how good that pussy would feel on his fingers. On his tongue. Oh fuck and especially on his cock.

Yuji opted to hold you back with one hand, tugging down his underwear and pants down just enough that his cock was free. Within seconds your skirt was bunched around your waist, panties slipped to the side and finally his tip caught on your entrance.

“Oh fuck me,” You rasped out as he worked the first inch inside of you. He was big. Your best friend Itadori was fucking big. Without thinking, Yuji drops your pussy on his clock. Your whole body seizes up as you force your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Yuji sputtered your name as he bottomed out. Every fucking ridge of his cock was engulfed in your warm wet pussy. He could feel your slick dripping down his balls. He grabbed at your ass to ground himself. You both dropped your mouths in awe. Your whole body felt like it was subjected to this moment.

You clamped down and gasped as Yuji tried to move forward. He gritted his teeth, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Don’t, fuck, don’t tighten up like that, I’m trying not to cum right now.” His admittance caused you to grip him more. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder, nails running across his undercut like before. You finally met his warm eyes, and blushed at the expression on his face.

You’ve seen Itadori in awe a lot. He’s someone who enjoys life at every moment. His smile was infectious and he’s adored things before, but the look he was giving you caused something deep inside you to flip over and over again.

“You okay?” He asked. Itadori was a man. As much as he wanted to slam into you, he was also your friend. He cared for you unlike anyone else.

You sniffled before responding.

“Yeah… just not used to something so big.”

He laughed at that, resting his forehead against you as you continue to rub at his undercut. Didn’t he tell you he wasn’t trying to cum too fast inside you?

“You’re such a sweet talker,” he gets out before kissing your cheek. “Am I okay to move, pretty?”

“Mmhm” you get out, recognizing the initial stretch has passed. “Please need you too,” you get out right as he pulls his hips back. From the first thrust the nerves in your body and firing off. Your pussy feels so raw, each thrust working you open more and more. You felt so full. You felt consumed by him.

Small moans slip from your lips as Itadori works into a regular pattern. You feel him circle his hips as he enters and exits your core. The added motion built more wetness from you.

“Fuck, just like that, Yu,” you whimper digging your nails into him. Itadori had a hard time concentrating. You were gripping him from all over. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to ground yourself. Your arms were wrapped around him, keeping him close. And your pussy, fuck, it felt like it never wanted him to leave.

You moaned at every thrust he made, those sweet lips prompting him to keep going. His hands slid from your ass to your thighs, he pinned you against the door and pulled back enough to look down. You whined at the loss of contact but followed his eyes down.

He continued to fill you. Rocking his hips with intention instead of mindlessly thrusting inside your sweet pussy. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, face scrunching up in pleasure.

You dropped your mouth open, letting out a loud moan at the sight. His cock was fucking soaked. Your juices covered everything from his abdomen, shaft, and balls, all the way to your folds, clit, thighs, and even the sorry excuse for panties that you had on. He whined at how you tightened up at the sight.

“Like watching me fuck you?” He questioned only for you to moan and nod in response. You tried your best to thrust your lower half forward in Yuji’s vice-like grip. Your best friend's dick felt soooo good digging in your guts.

“Mmhm, fuck me, Yu. Don’t stop,” you cried out as he picked up his pace. Yuji leaned back in, watching your face as he continued to fuck you just how you like. He was stretching you out so good. The friction he provided had your toes pointed and nerves on edge. You felt your stomach tightening up with each thrust he worked in.

“I’m close,” you get out softly. Itadori groaned. You were gonna cum on his cock. He couldn’t wait. He needed you to. He piston his hips, locking his lips against yours again. The feeling of his tongue teasing yours along with his bruising pace had you whining.

“Fuck, Yu,” you tried to get out between kisses and moans. He nodded, sliding his lips against yours in the motion.

“I know, I know, me too, baby,” he grits out. Soon you felt that band inside you snap. Your nails dug into his skin as your body seized up. You threw your head back, and couldn’t help but close your eyes at the pleasure shot up your spine throughout your whole body.

Yuji felt his balls tighten and fucking groaned feeling you clench and milk his dick. He was cumming. He was cumming hard right inside your pussy. The thought made his dick throb as you continued to clench and clamp down on him.

“Fu-uck, oh god,” Itadori cried out as you moaned. His sperm felt so good, warm and soothing against your beaten walls. You felt yourself calm down first, petting Yuji's jaw to bring him back to you. You kissed at his sweaty forehead humming as he pulled you up.

A pop sound resonated in the restroom, followed by Itadori’s moan. Fuck, you’d be the death of him. He finally set you down, wincing at the sight of your thighs covered in bruises from his fingertips. His eyes trailed upwards to look at your swollen pussy. A mix of cum dripped from your gaping hole. You shuddered as you slid your panties back in place and tried to fix your skirt.

Yuji hissed as he grabbed at his cock, and slipped it back in his pants. Before he could apologize in the post sex haze you’re giving him that sweet smile again.

And something tells him that you’re going to persist with getting him wrapped around your fingers again.

#itadori smut #itadori x reader #itadori x you #yuji itadori #jujutsu itadori #jjk itadori #yuji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #itadori yuji smut #yuji smut #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #itadori #jjk yuuji #itadori yuuji smut

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kissitbttr · 3 months

Text

dilf!toji who finds you sitting in the curb at one am when he’s doing a quick run to 7/11 to grab a few snacks and a six pack. wondering why on earth, a pretty girl like you is alone.

after paying, he exits through the door before walking cautiously towards you. eyes glancing left and right to find no one is around, not even a car. meaning that you may have walked here.

“hi there sweetheart, you okay?” he calls out of worries. it’s very dark outside and far too dangerous for a young thing like you to be all here alone.

the moment you turn your head around, toji swears he had never seen someone so beautiful. glossy irises looking up at him with your messy long curls framing your features. glittery makeup decorating your eyes, nose and lips.

you must be no older than twenty-five.

“huh?” so clueless, yet so pretty. “o-oh. i’m—good, sir.. thank you” shooting him a small toothy grin with a gummy worm tuck in between your teeth,

he chuckles at that, hand shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. how adorable.

he nods his chin towards your disregarded kitten heels beside you. “rough night?”

shrugging, you tug off the stretchy sweet off your mouth before chewing. “something like that.”

he tsks at that, head shaking. “it’s not safe for a girl like you to be out here. considering it’s very late. did you walk here?”

nodding, you put a strand of hair behind your ear. “i did, yes. i needed.. food. i was hungry.”

your answer makes him breathe out a laugh. “candies aren’t food, sweetheart—i assumed you were at a party dressing like that” he points out at your skin tight pink dress that barely covers your thighs, and he has to restrain himself from thinking unholy thoughts.

“it was getting quite crowded… i didn’t like it.. suffocating” your voice coming off quiet, if not—sad—“the food there is awful too”

toji hums, taking another step closer as your eyes follow his movements. head tilting back a bit when you notice he’s only standing inches away from your small figure,

“boyfriend not around?” his head move to the side, eyes roaming down your figure. shaking your head, he asks again. “what happened?”

you reply shakily. “he dumped me.. called me nasty things” a tear escapes your eye as you begin to remember what your ex had done to you two hours prior. “t-that’s why i’m here.”

when he sees you beginning to cry, he can’t help but feel bad. what a fucking asshole he thinks. making a cute girl cry and dumped her in the middle of the night? who fucking does that?!

he crouches down to your eye level. and that’s when you finally take a good look of his appearance. breath almost hitching at just how even more handsome he looks up close. even the faint scar across his lips just makes this man even more hotter.

“i’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. sounds to me like he’s a straight jerk, yeah?” he says with a small smile. seeing you nod as a reply. gaze isn’t moving from his. “don’t cry over him, i bet he doesn’t deserve a beautiful girl like you”

your cheeks warm at that, eyes dropping to your lap just so he won’t notice how nervous he makes you feel by that comment. however, his finger moves underneath your chin to get you to look back at him again. his thumb grazing against your soft skin,

“want me to beat his ass for you? because i will, just lead the way”

you can’t help but giggle at his offer, and it makes toji’s heart skip a beat at the beautiful sound. his lips stretch into a bigger smile when he sees you like that.

“atta girl. there she is” he chuckles, “how old are you, baby?”

“i’m twenty one”

toji mutters out a soft ‘fuck’ which earns a confused frown from you. he’s almost twice your age. “you need a ride back to the party? i promise i’m not a creep or anything. just can’t stand at the thought of you walking back alone. something bad could happen, you know?”

“i would like that very much sir, thank you” a smile pulls upon your pink glossy lips, fingers fiddling with each other,

toji finds you to be endearing, adorable and pretty when you look at him like that. it has been too long since someone makes his heart ponder like this, and all you had to do was just smile at him with a gummy packet in your hand.

“call me toji, sweetheart—c’mere. up you get” he moves the sixpack towards his left hand as the other grabs yours, helping you up on your feet. “but before that, i think you need to get better food in your system. we’ll stop by at something, yeah?”

you nod quickly, slipping your feet back into the heels with a wide smile not leaving your face. “okay!”

with that, toji smiles back at you before putting his hand on your back, guiding you towards his car.

will expand because in this au toji is a rich ass man and ready to give him everything for his soon to be baby <3

(look what you made me do @tojisun )

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro fluff #dilf!toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro blurbs

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loaksky · 4 months

Note

I don't know if you've done this yet but can we have mean ellie is FWB with the reader but she's jealous when the reader is into someone else 👀

i have not + you know what anon i could kiss your brain rn ! i definitely view this pairing as separate from this fwb!ellie x reader, but this could also technically fit in their early timeline since nothing else has really been established about them...

content warnings: language, ellie being an asshole (very on brand for me to write ig lmao), reader actually sticks up for herself in this one, but eventually folds (i would too for ellie ngl) 18+ content that includes; brief mentions of strap-on sex, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving).

author’s note: i’ve been so unmotivated to write, but this request awoke something in me idk...also, if you’ve sent in a tlou request (yes even from june), i’m still cooking i promise! (and not in the way that ellie keeps promises in this fic lmfaoo).

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

You didn’t want to say anything at first, couldn’t be too sure under the lowlights of the party with bass-y music that makes both the house and your chest throb with every beat, but you see it clear as day on the drive home and a passing streetpost illuminates the purpling flesh on Ellie’s carotid.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when your fingertips brush over the blooming bruise, obviously fresh and warm to the touch.

“What the fuck?” she huffs, pulling the drawstrings on her hoodie to scrunch to fabric around her neck.

“Who gave you that?” you ask softly, expression on your face enough to devastate, but Ellie’s always been different, an anomaly of sorts when it came to the matters of her stony heart.

“Why does it matter?” she scoffs.

“Ellie,” you sigh. “You know why it matters.”

She’s swinging a right at the intersection, nearing the residential you live in.

“It doesn’t,” she grunts. “Because at the end of the night, it’s you I’m fucking, isn’t it?”

And you don’t know why the way she puts it stings so much this time around when she frequently reminds you both directly and indirectly that while you may be her most recurrent hookup, you’re definitely not her only one, but it does. Does so much that you’re turning your face towards the window to hide the tears that are pooling.

Because all you wanted was Ellie. Wanted her in ways she wasn’t willing to give you. Wanted to learn and grow with her, but she wasn’t budging and lately, you’ve been feeling stupid.

When she turns into your neighborhood, you speak.

“Just drop me off, please.”

Ellie’s slowing down, palm finding purchase on your thigh.

“Babe, c’mon,” she practically whines, kneading the skin there. “Don’t be like that.”

You shift away from her, gather your purse from your feet as she continues through the different apartment buildings.

“Babe,” she calls again when you barely wait for her to stop and you’re pushing the car door open.

And maybe it’s childish, but you’re wounded and quite frankly done with the back and forth.

“She’s probably waiting for you,” you add petulantly.

“Babe, seriously. You’re being annoying,” she warns.

“And you’re being a dick,” you bite back. “First, you drag me out to a shitty party where I don’t know a single soul even though you promised we could just chill and smoke while watching that stupid fucking space exploration documentary, then when we get there, you’re leaving me with a bunch of sleazy assholes while you do god knows what with the same girl you’ve been telling me not to worry about for the last five weeks.”

And of things Ellie’s looks horrified at, it’s the fact that you’d been observant enough to recognize the girl she’d thought she whisked away before your prying eyes could catch on.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Ellie,” you say with resignation. “I tried to turn the other cheek because I really fucking like you, but you treat me like shit and I deserve better than that.”

Of course you don’t know it, but those fucking words bite. They’re an automatic trigger because unbeknownst to you, both of your friend groups think the same thing. Aren’t afraid to let her know otherwise. And she’s obviously well aware that, Christ, yes, you absolutely deserve better. Is actually really insecure on the low because she doesn’t know why you stick around with a piece of shit like her when you could have so much better.

So she does what she does best when she feels like a kicked puppy and lashes out.

“Of course Little Miss Princess deserves better,” she mocks. “What fucking ever. I don’t know why I flaked on a ten for such a stuck up bitch.”

And you see right through her, know that she’s all bark and no bite, but it hurts regardless, when you step off to the side and she’s leaning over the center console to shut the passenger side door herself.

She’s revving off without another word, and to add insult to injury, your phone’s pinging obnoxiously once you get out of your well-needed shower.

els <3 sent a video.

It’s the blonde from the party. Of course those dumb LEDs pulse red in the background, making Ellie and her flavor of the night look a thousand times more seductive. Ellie’s kissing her sloppily, whispering things against her mouth that you can’t quite pick out.

els <3 sent a video.

The next video’s grainy, but you can hear the tell-tale squelch, the girl’s shaky moans and Ellie egging her on. Your cheeks are on fire and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

els <3 sent a photo.

You wonder if the girl knows, that Ellie’s sending you the most compromising footage of her. If she knows how grimy the green-eyed girl truly is, sending someone else pictures of her stuffed hilt-deep with the same strap Ellie’d used on you.

els <3: still think u deserve better ?

You delete the thread and her phone number.

Ellie expects you to crack first, you always do. Because even if she isn’t shit, she’s your biggest weakness and she knows it. Can say so with confidence, because maybe the same can be said about her.

She hasn’t fucked you in nearly two weeks and not a single body she touches can elicit the same feeling that you do. And in the back of her brain, she knows why, but Ellie’s prideful. Won’t dare admit it out loud.

So she cracks first. Texts you between classes.

me: i have a few joints + a coupon to tino’s if you’ll let me come over… :(

my #1 girl: Who’s this?

Ellie throws her head back and groans.

me: cmon baby, dont b like that. im srry i was mean, ill make it up to u

my #1 girl: I think you have the wrong number…

me: babe stopppp

Her text bubbles turn green after that message.

You forget that Ellie has a copy of your key because she’s never used it in the five months that the two of you have been in this precarious situation, and your heart falls square to your ass when you emerge from the shower to find her setting up a box of pizza on your coffee table.

“Ellie, what in the fuck?”

She feigns nonchalance, pulls a few joints from her jacket pocket. But the aroma of weed or the grease of the pizza isn’t what makes you wrinkle your nose.

It’s the smell of flowers that waft from a pretty vase sitting on the cut away of the kitchen counter.

Your gaze fixes on the girl who settles on your couch.

“You need to leave,” you say stonily.

“But I just got here,” Ellie says. “And I brought you pizza…and flowers.”

“I’m sorry, did you think that a five dollar pizza and a bouquet of flowers from Saver’s was going to fix the fact that you’ve been so fucking awful to me for the past half year?”

Ellie shrinks.

“Well, no…but—”

“You practically sent me a homemade porno of you and some other girl you fucked to get back at me for setting a boundary, Ellie,” you say sharply. “What, did it not work out? Did you—”

“I’m trying to be the bigger person here,” Ellie sighs. “I am sorry. I just—”

“You what?”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Ellie snips. “God, you’re talking down to me like you’re a fucking therapist or my fucking mom and—”

You’re shaking your head, crossing the room and picking up the pizza from the coffee table to shove in her arms.

“I don’t have time for this,” you mutter. “Kenzie’s going to be here any minute now—”

“Who the fuck is Kenzie?” Ellie balks, caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Ellie, don’t,” you warn.

“Don’t what?” she practically seethes. “You think I’m just gonna be okay that you’re spending time with some other stupid bitch? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but you’re mine.”

And she shouldn’t have glanced down at your cleavage as you cross your arms over your chest, but Ellie’s weak and you look too fucking pretty for your own good.

“Yours?” you ask incredulously. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes, mine,” Ellie affirms. “All fucking mine and no one else’s.”

“God, you’re so full of shit, Ellie,” you scoff. “I’m supposed to be loyal to you and be okay with you having a roster, but I can’t go on a date with someone I genuinely like because it fucks with your brain to have a legitimate interest in somebody?”

“You like her?” Ellie asks in disbelief. “Like, like her, like her?”

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

And that makes Ellie’s jaw set, makes her narrow her eyes at you.

“You like her more than me?” she taunts.

And maybe she has you there, but you refuse to give her the upper hand.

“I could learn to,” you answer honestly. “Because Kenzie is kind to me. She doesn’t treat me like an option, doesn’t act like she’s God’s gift to the fucking world and that I should kiss her feet for giving me the time of day. And I get it, you don’t like me the way I like you—”

“You think I don’t like you?” Ellie asks like the thought is unfathomable.

“I don’t think, Ellie, I know. We went into this without any strings attached, we established that it’d just be fucking, but I was honest in telling you that I caught feelings and you used that to your advantage. You lied to me on multiple occasions, you make me look stupid, like I’m fucking crazy.”

And you wish you’d gotten through your spiel without choking up, but Ellie’s the first girl you’d liked in a while even if she was bad news. And when you thought that maybe you could shake her, she’d come barreling back.

“Baby,” she murmurs, face softening as she’s crossing the space between you two to cup your face in her hands.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiccup, trying to push her touch away.

“Babe, stop,” she says firmly. “I’m serious. You think I don’t like you?”

“Well, you don’t fucking act like it,” you mutter. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways because whatever this was is done. You’re free to do what you want, who you want, whether you like me or not.”

God, do you unwittingly light a fire under Ellie’s ass when she thinks of what this Kenzie girl could do to you if she lets you walk out the door. Absolutely loathes the thought of anyone else knowing what you look like in any state of indecency, that you fucking cry watching children’s movies, that you snore like a freight train if you’re tired enough and have a weird ass penchant for pickle chips when you’re high.

“You’re not going on that fucking date,” Ellie says with finality, palms sliding from your shoulders to skim down the length of your arms and situate over the swell of your hips.

“Who says?”

“Me,” she huffs. “Because I’m going to make it up to you and we’re going to smoke these blunts and eat this fucking pizza and I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t even remember that you were thinking of leaving me for someone else.”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Ellie,” you reiterate. “You can’t just–”

“Maybe not then, and maybe not in this moment, but I will be,” she says, and the words catch you completely off guard.

She’s catching your bottom lip between hers to further disorient you, kissing you like this could very well be her last.

“Just give me some time,” she whispers, walking you back towards your bedroom. “I’ll get my shit together for you. Promise.”

And you know deep down that you shouldn’t believe her. She’s just feeling territorial and grasping at straws to keep you leashed, but Ellie’s always been such a good kisser and she’s devouring you like she really is sorry.

She’s tossing your against your unmade bed, caging you between lithe limbs as she leans back on her haunches to take you in. Your blouse rides up to reveal the flimsy bands of your lacy little thong and Ellie’s lacking decency as she flips your skirt up to reveal a growing patch of wetness.

“Were you planning on getting fucked or do you always go out like this?” Ellie ponders, fingers rough as she pulls the tiny scrap of fabric down your legs and nearly salivates when a string of your arousal leaves with it.

Your lips part to answer, but her thumb’s dipping between your folds, pad collecting some of your slick from your drooling slit to smear over your achey little bud.

“I asked you a question,” Ellie says gently. “You just gotta be honest with me, baby.”

“S’hot out,” you whimper, fingers closing around her wrist when your body jerks against a particularly delicious stroke of her thumb.

“Yeah?” she clarifies. “You wouldn’t let any else touch you, would you? Not when I take good care of you like this?”

Her other hand comes to toy with your entrance, doesn’t give you any warning before her middle and ring finger are sinking inside slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine.

“You’re my girl, you hear me?” Ellie murmurs, leaning down to catch your clit between her lips. “You’ll be my number one, always.”

She’s teasing at first, tongue languid against your fluttering pussy, but you’re quiet, back of your wrist caught between your teeth to muffle your moans.

One of her hands reach up to yank it away.

“Say it,” she barks, pulling away from your needy heat.

“Ellie,” you whimper.

“Say it,” she repeats firmly.

“M’your girl,” you moan shakily, thighs quivering as she smoothes her palms over the underside of your thighs to push them up to your chest.

“Yeah, you are,” she whispers, spitting harshly on your heat. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

She’s eating you out like she’s missed you, like she’ll only be satisfied when you finally cum. And maybe it’s true.

Maybe not.

Especially when she draws nearly three orgasms from you and practically knocks you out.

You don’t know how long you doze off for, but when you finally wake up, the sun has almost completely set, bathing your room in a burnt orange glow that leaves your dewy skin warm and sticky. And perhaps it’s wishful thinking when you call Ellie’s name, met only with the echo of your raspy voice. After all, you’re tucked on the wrong side of bed, elusive girl nowhere to be found.

As you dress and search for your phone, you can’t even find it in yourself to be surprised.

neng ©️2023

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams au #ellie williams fic #ellie williams #ellie williams smut

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luxurychristmaspudding · 4 months

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summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.

read part 2, watch, here

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.

wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.

an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.

When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.

You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were.

Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.

Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.

But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.

Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else.

One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.

You.

But he never did.

When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly.

They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted.

On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features.

You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him.

The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.

What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after.

But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.

And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful.

Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi.

Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway.

He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it.

When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.

Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.

Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar.

You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles.

But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.

Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.

As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.

‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.

Frankie walks you home like a gentleman.

Too much of a gentleman.

You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.

You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.

Maybe he doesn’t want you.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight.

You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out.

He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.

‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’

He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.

Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.

‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says.

You look back up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’

You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.

‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’

You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.

You clear your throat.

‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’

You rush in and close the door before he can reply.

---

Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.

You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.

It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.

Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?

You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.

Got a friend Id like u to meet.

And then another.

Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.

You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -

Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?

You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.

Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)

You snort at his reply, shooting back -

God. Am I really such a charity case?

- before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.

Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.

You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste.

A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it -

If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.

You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty.

You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.

As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.

Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.

And it’s going well. Really well.

You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.

Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It’s agonising.

And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read.

In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.

‘What do you think?’ He asks.

You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.

‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’

Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.

‘You want to take him home.’

You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.

‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.

‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’

You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder.

‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’

You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.

‘Ya think?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’

You hum against him before tilting your face further back.

‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’

His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’

Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’

You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.

‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.

‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’

Despite yourself, you smile.

‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.

Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.

‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’

Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks.

Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay.

Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.

You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.

He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door.

When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -

Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.

‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.

You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet.

He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out -

‘Do you want to come in?’

Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.

---

Being with Joel is great.

It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.

In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you.

Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.

And the sex is incredible.

Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.

Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.

You see his reply forty minutes later.

Frankie will b there. That OK?

You type back a quick -

Of course :)

- before getting on with your day.

Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing.

Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.

At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left.

It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.

So why are you still thinking about it?

You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.

You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye.

You feel your jaw clench.

‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’

He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly.

Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.

She swats at the air with her free hand.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’

You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?

You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -

‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’

Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck.

Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?

You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’

He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’

But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.

‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting.

‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’

Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.

It’s just timing.

Frankie grimaces.

‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away.

A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.

‘Is it -’ he begins, ‘Is it Pope?’

‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.

‘Santi. Is it Santi?’

You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.

‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.

‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.

Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.

‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’

Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.

‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’

You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.

‘Who is it?’

‘What?’

‘Who is it?’

You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -

‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’

Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.

‘Is it someo-’

You cut him off, holding up your palm.

‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’

Frankie chokes on his breath.

He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.

‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’

The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?

You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.

‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie.

The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.

He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.

‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.

The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off.

Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.

Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.

Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.

‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.

‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes.

‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.

‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park.

Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.

Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.

‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’

Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable.

Santi shakes his head.

‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’

---

When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.

The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together.

Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move.

Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.

And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.

Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.

Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.

Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.

You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

But it still sits uneasy in your gut.

You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week.

The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun.

It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.

He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.

And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is.

Seems to suit Santi, too.

At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.

And there was obvious one name you both settled on.

Santi.

And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.

And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on.

---

All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.

At all. At any point.

You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.

It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.

They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.

Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.

The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi.

He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.

It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call.

All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.

Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.

Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.

‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.

‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’

You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave.

When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.

---

You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives.

He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -

‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’

You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.

‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’

Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.

No one says a word the rest of the way home.

Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.

‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.

When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -

‘Kneel.’

Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.

‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.

The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Yes.’

Santi nods once.

‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’

Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it.

Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.

‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.

‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.

‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.

Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.

‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’

Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.

Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something which will wipe it off.

So you begin to undo his belt.

Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers.

With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.

‘Are we racing?’ He asks.

You cock your head to the side.

‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes.

He steps back.

‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him.

‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand.

Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’

You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.

‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire.

Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.

‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.

‘Take - this - off.’ You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.

‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him.

He retracts his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.

Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.

‘Come here.’ He says.

You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.

You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.

You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.

‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.

You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.

‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’

Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.

‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.

A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear.

Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.

‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’

You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.

‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’

But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.

‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.

‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’

You groan and nod.

‘Yes, Santi.’

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’

You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.

‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’

Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.

‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’

Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.

Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.

‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’

You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.

‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.

You whine against him, lick across his jaw.

‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’

Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips.

Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.

‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’

Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.

‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.

Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.

‘Please, Santi, please -’

And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out.

You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -

‘How does she feel?’

Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -

‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.

‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’

You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.

‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.

‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’

You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -

‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’

‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.

‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’

With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good -

Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’

And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -

‘Good - fucking - girl.’

And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.

Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.

‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’

But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.

‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’

‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.

At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.

‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.

‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.

‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.

‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.

You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.

You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.

He nods, pleased.

‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.

You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom.

‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him.

You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already.

His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.

‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.

Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both.

You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head.

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’

You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -

‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’

Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.

‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.

You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.

‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.

‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’

Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets -

And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -

Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him.

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.

‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -

‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.

‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.

‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.

‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.

‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.

You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.

A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -

‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.

‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.

‘What do you need?’ He asks.

‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’

Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’

The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied.

When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.

‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’

You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.

‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.

‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’

Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.

‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’

You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You say.

He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.

Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.

He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.

‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.

‘Yeah, angel?’

‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.

‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’

Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.

You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat.

There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.

All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest.

Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless.

Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.

‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.

‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’

You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before.

As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.

‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’

Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.

‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.

‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.

‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.

‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’

Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.

‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.

‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.

Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.

‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.

Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again.

You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.

‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.

‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’

You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.

‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.

When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.

Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry.

He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.

You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.

‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.

‘Yes.’ He croaks out.

You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long.

He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea.

Please. Please.

As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -

‘Help him, baby.’

You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.

‘What do you need?’ You whisper.

He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.

‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.

You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.

‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.

‘Is this okay?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours.

When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.

‘What do you need, Frankie?’

‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning.

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’

You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards.

You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’

You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.

‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’

And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.

He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.

‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.

‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’

You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.

‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader #joel miller x frankie morales x reader

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kotikaleo · 11 months

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Noone expected this to happen, even me, but I am back at rain world fandom! Which is @amenalyme 's fault! And also @toxictoxicities 's fault. You are both really happy about it, I know 👀

So I drew a bunch or silly robot men and a sad slug mother

i might do more sketches when I have free time, but time to get back to work

#my art #my messy sketches #Emergence au #Emergence #rain world #Seven Red Suns #No Significant Harassment #Night on Five Warm Drops #he is my baby boiiiii!#He is my lil baby!!!#He is traumatized!#wait you probably already seen him actually #A Plausible Link #this one is hot ass guy by Tox #Like LOOK AT HIM #His design is JSCNPIJSDNCPOIENCOINAEDPICJNASIPNC #I love this au so much you don't even know

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moonvis · 3 months

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IDIOTS IN LOVE

Steve Rogers x F! Reader

incl. Natasha, Wanda, Bucky and Tony

Summary: Being in love with Steve Rogers isn’t easy with all the dates Natasha sets him up with. One day you’ve had enough and ask her to set you up, something you’ve never let her before – and a certain blonde isn’t too pleased.

Warnings: Angst to fluff! Jealous! Steve and Jealous! Reader. Misunderstandings. Two blind idiots in love with each other. 4.3k words.

“Okay, I’m off to bed,” You said through a yawn and got up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the past hours, drinking and chatting with Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha took a sip from her glass, before asking, “See you in the morning for our run?”

“Count me in,” You nodded and walked towards the exit, your head facing Natasha, “Goodnight ladies.” The second you faced away, something tall crashed into you, making you trip on your own feet.

“Woah careful, doll!” A familiar voice said, as a hand grabbed you by your waist to steady you, “Are you okay, angel?”

“Steve! Oh- Thanks!” You felt a bit embarrassed as he was still holding onto you, his blue eyes looking down at you with what seemed like concern. His face was close, so very close, and his lips-

“Steve you’re back!” Natasha cheered from behind you, interrupting the moment, “How was your date?”

You immediately felt your heart drop at her question. Steve had been on a date. Again. You took a step away from the super soldier, looking down as he shifted his attention to Natasha, “It was good.”

You snuck out of the room in the blink of an eye, not wanting to hear about yet another one of Steves ‘good’ dates that never lead to a second one. Couldn’t he just choose one of the girls and make it official? That way you had no reason to hold onto the hope that he just might, someday, reciprocate your feelings.

You didn’t see the disappointment in Steve’s face when you suddenly disappeared out of sight.

You woke up in the morning with a burning headache. Partly because of the wine last night, but mostly because of Steve keeping you awake for hours. You always stayed to hear how his dates went, but it was always the same: “It was good, but there won’t be a second one, I’m afraid. Better luck next time Nat.”

Though what if it was different this time? What if he finally found the one? Your thoughts and feeling of regret were interrupted by a harsh knocking on your bedroom door.You knew it was Natasha and got out of bed. The floor felt extra cold this morning.

“I’ll be down in five!” You yelled trough the door and went to get dressed for your run. After swallowing some painkillers for your headache, you left your room to meet the redhead, desperately in need to get some fresh air.

You and Natasha jogged from the Avengers compound and ended up in the nearest park. As you felt the morning sun warming your skin, you felt a little relief lift off your shoulders. You needed this.

The two of you sat down at a bench, kind of like creeps, observing the civilians enjoying their own morning.

A dolled-up lady was walking her dog, or more like, the dog was walking her. You shared a laugh with Natasha at the sight. Your eyes followed her movements, watching as she passed a little girl blowing soap-bubbles. The little one let her tongue out to taste the bubbles, only for her nose to scrunch up in disgust.

“Cute.” Natasha commented from beside you. You smiled and let your eyes wander along with the bubbles flying away, which popped right next to an older couple holding hands. “Aww, look at them!” You commented.

The husband of the old couple, smacked his lady’s butt, growing a mischievous grin on his face. “Now, that’s cute.” Natasha commented this time.

“I know! Old people are the cutest.”

“I can only partly agree with you there. Buck and Steve are quite the old men,” Natasha laughed, “Wouldn’t call them cute.”

You chuckled lightly as your eyes left the old couple. To you, Steve was so much more than cute. He was the kindest, most caring man you’d ever met. He always listened to your small and bigger problems. He was always willing to drop everything to help you out. He was always by your side whenever you got hurt on a mission. You had no doubt he cared for you, and yet… he still went on all those dates like you weren’t even an option. He made you feel so special and loved, and you weren’t even each other’s. Oh, how lucky the one who wins his heart would be.

“Y/N? Earth to--”

“Oh, sorry!” You snapped out of your thoughts at Natasha trying to get your attention.

She gave you a concerned look as she spoke, “Are you okay? You seem down.”

“It’s just my head, it really hurts.” You excused, wiping away a tear you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m sorry. Should we walk back? We can take it slow.” Natasha asked and got up from the bench, lending you a hand.

You accepted her hand and cracked a small smile, “Thank you kind lady.”

Once you started walking back towards the compound, a familiar figure caught your eye. Steve, with a girl beside him, was walking in your direction.

“Would you look at that! Steve’s on a second date,” Natasha cheered at the sight of Steve and Sharon Carter coming closer, “He said yesterday they wouldn’t go on a date again.”

Natasha was clearly trying to share her excitement with you, but all you felt was a knot tightening in your stomach. You liked Sharon, you really did, but of course she, a Carter, would be the one to finally win Steve’s heart.

Natasha was waving at the pair, just to make sure they saw the two of you. The jealousy in your body didn’t help much with the headache, making you feel sick, “Nat, I’m just gonna go, okay?”

You weren’t in the mood to stand around and wait for Steve to arrive with his new love interest, you didn’t even bother to give Natasha a smile, “You can wait for them if you want. I’d like to have some alone time anyways.”

Natasha wasn’t sure how to react, starting to feel like it wasn’t just a headache bothering you, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.” You left without taking another look back, leaving Natasha to start worry about you.

You didn’t see Steve’s expression go from excitement to concern as he watched you leave Natasha behind.

Back at the compound, you fall down onto your bed, soft sobs rocking your body. You’re tired of loving a man you’ll never have. You have his friendship, but your heart is still not satisfied. Now that Steve has found a beautiful woman like Sharon, maybe you can finally try to move on.

You roll onto your back, looking at the ceiling as your tears dry out. What are you going to do?

Then, it hits you. Natasha.

Just a soft knock on the door and a hug later, the redhead asks what she can do to make you feel better. You let out a sigh and ask away, “Could you help me, maybe… find a date?”

Natasha wasn’t sure she heard you correctly, but when you nodded, her face lit up in excitement, “Of course! It would be my absolute pleasure!” She didn’t even ask why you wanted a date all of a sudden, she was just happy you’d finally give her matchmaking a chance.

“Oh my god! I have so many guys in mind. They would all be so lucky to have you Y/N. I have to pick one worth your time though!”

You chuckled as you listened to Natasha ramble on about who to pick for you, a feeling of excitement growing in your stomach. You were finally ready to give someone new a chance.

As the moon shone through your window, you thought about what tomorrow would bring. Natasha had already picked out a date whom you’d meet tomorrow night.

Busy in thought, you suddenly felt your stomach growl. Slipping out of bed, you put on a pair of slippers and wandered out your door towards the kitchen. Truth be told, you had been avoiding going around the compound in fear of meeting Steve, which also meant skipping dinner.

You fixed yourself a bowl of cereal and let your thoughts wander back to your upcoming date. What dress would you wear? Maybe the blue one? No. What about the white, the one you knew Steve loved so much?

“Hey.”

The sudden sound of a voice made you jump in your seat. As you choked on your cereal, you felt a hand patting your back.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. Are you okay, angel?”

You looked up to find Steve looking down at you. Damnit. You managed to embarrass yourself in front of him again.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Your voice sounded hesitant, your eyes going back to your cereal. You listened as Steve made himself a cup of tea behind you, not a single word shared. You felt awkward.

You hoped he would just make his damn tea and leave - but of course not. The man sat down, right beside you, half facing you as he took a sip.

“So…” Steve began, and you felt yourself wanting to disappear. You were in the mindset of moving on a few minutes ago, but here he sat, the man you were so in love with, alone, giving you all of his attention. “How’re you doing? We haven’t talked much since, well, yesterday.”

Steve’s voice sounded hesitant, and you knew, that he knew, that something was up. The two of you hung out every single day, so not talking for 24 hours was unusual.

“I, uh… I’m okay. I’ve been a bit tired lately, that’s all.” You lied, and you didn’t sound very convincing either.

“Nat told me about your headache earlier today, at the park-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in your voice. You really didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not think about the sight of Steve walking alongside his new girl.

You hear Steve let out a sigh at your answer. You were hoping he’d let it go, though you knew Steve too well. The blonde put down his cup and turned his body fully towards you this time, “Y/N,” His voice sounded serious, “I know something’s up, more than just a headache, and it worries me. So, please, what is going on? Did I do something?”

You didn’t know you had it in you to be angry with Steve Rogers, but when you felt your blood boil, there was no going back. You jumped out of your chair and looked at him with rage in your eyes, “Why do you care, huh?”

You saw the immediate hurt in Steve’s eyes, his expression shocked at your sudden outburst. You didn’t care though, “It’s been a fucking day, and you’re worried about me because I haven’t talked to you yet? You haven’t even been home! The last time I saw you, quoting Natasha, you were on a second date with Sharon! Shouldn’t you be with her now anyways?”

“Y/N-”

“No! Why the fuck do you sit here and talk to me like I’m the only thing you care about, like it matters how I’m doing? It doesn’t make any sense! You’ve always been like this, yet I’m just a friend sitting around while you go out and fuck all the girls Natasha find for you!” Your breath is heavy, tears threaten to spill from your eyes,

Steve was reaching out a hand to you but retracted it as tears streamed down your cheeks. You pointed a finger at the man, your teeth gritted together as you spoke, “And lastly, I am under no obligation to tell you anything about my feelings! So please, stop treating me like I’m your fucking girlfriend!”

Without taking another look at him, you spun around and left the room. As you disappeared out of sight, you ran down the hallway to escape into your room, not wanting Steve to follow. It was when you shut your bedroom door, you realised what you just did.

You yelled at Steve, for the first time ever. Worst of all, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. That night, never ending sobs were rocking you to sleep.

As you stormed out of the kitchen, you didn’t see the look of heartbreak in Steve’s eyes. They carried more worry than before, confusion and a load of regret as he started to catch on to what was going on with you. It was all a misunderstanding, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

Getting ready for your date was supposed to be fun and exciting, but after you yelled at Steve last night, nothing seemed to cheer you up.

You regretted every single word you yelled at him. He came to check up on you, but all he got in return was your anger. Though maybe it was for the best, now he had no reason to care about you anymore. You were an asshole. The thought hurt like hell, but you chose to use it as an excuse to ease your feelings.

You dressed up in a white beautiful dress, paired with a pair of white heels. It was Steve’s favourite outfit of yours – he had told you so with words, but his eyes when he looked you, oh, they said so much more. That's were you got the nickname angel from.

It was time to give the outfit a new association, perhaps, the first outfit you wore out with your new potential love interest?

As you walked down the compound hallway to leave, familiar voices came from the kitchen. You knew snooping was wrong, but you couldn’t help listening as it was Steve talking.

“I’ve been a fool Buck,” Steve sighed, “What am I gonna do?”

“It’s all a big misunderstanding, right? Just tell her everything and I’m sure she’ll understand. Y/N always understands.”

“Yeah, tell her I’ve been going on a new date every week for the past year so that I can forget about her?” Steve groaned, “It sounds awful.”

It did sound awful. He really wanted to get rid of you huh? You didn’t understand why but his words hurt. “-so that I can forget about her.”

You sniffled and was ready to sneak past them, not wanting to hear anymore, but of course, both men noticed your presence. Stupid super hearing.

“Y/N?” Steve asked and walked a little closer to where you were standing, “Wow, angel, you look-” Steve gave you the same look as he always did when you dressed up. He looked at you in awe, which you usually loved, but now, you hated it.

“Princess, you look beautiful!” Bucky commented and walked over to kiss the top of your head, “Where are you headed off to?”

“Oh, I-” You looked at Steve, then shifted your attention back to Bucky, giving him a shy smile, “I’m going on a date.”

The words felt relieving to get out in front of Steve. Now he would know not to treat you like a girlfriend, since you were trying to see someone else, right?

“Oh, really?” Bucky sounded surprised, but you ignored it, “Have uh-” You noticed as Bucky gave a quick look at Steve, before plastering on a big smile, “Have a nice one then! Can’t wait to hear about it!”

“Thanks Buck,” You smiled, “I gotta go.”

As you rushed out of the room, you didn’t see Steve clenching his jaw and fists. He was irritated at himself for letting it come to this. The feeling of jealusy made him feel sick.

It was an hour into the date, and you were actually enjoying your time. The guy Natasha had set you up with was an agent you had met before during some mission, Christopher. He was cute and had such golden retriever energy - he made you genuinely smile for the first time that day. Apparently he had been smitten with you for a while now, and to no surprise, Natasha knew.

As time passed by, it was time to head home. Both of you had work in the morning anyways. Cristopher followed you all the way back to the Avengers Compound, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you for giving me a chance Y/N. I had a really wonderful time. Will I see you again?”

Busy with your date, you didn’t see Steve standing nearby, observing the whole thing. He was tense, saddened and growing more and more jealous as he watched you laugh with the other guy.

Steve had come out to get some fresh air, to clear his head, but was interrupted by your arrival. You looked so beautiful, and the sound of your sweet laughter made his knees weak. Oh, how he wished he was the one who caused it.

The morning after your date with Cristopher, you felt the best you had in the last few days. You hummed as you entered the kitchen, the smell of something delicious hitting your nose, “Oh, what’s that smell? It’s amazing.”

“’I made pancakes, so I hope you’re hungry!” Bucky cheered and handed you a plate. You accepted it gladly and sat down at the table next to Natasha and Wanda to your left, and Tony to your right.

“Hey girl, you seem happy. I’m guessing the date was a success?” Natasha asked as she took a bite of her breakfast.

“You finally went on a date with Steve? Rhodes owe me money-” Tony started at the information.

You almost chocked on your first bite of the pancake. Why would he even think that? Didn’t he know Steve was dating Sharon?

“No, Tones, wrong,” Natasha corrected him, “She went with that guy Cristopher. Remember that agent who wouldn’t shut up about her?”

“Oh yeah! The guy who was blabbering about Y/N almost as much as Steve does!”

Steve was blabbering on about you?

“Anyways, tell us how it went? When’s the next date?” Wanda asked, eager to know.

You chuckled a little nervously, “Well, you see--” You stopped talking as soon as Steve entered the kitchen, shocked to see his fallen shoulders and saddened eyes.

You observed as he grabbed a plate of pankakes, before heading over to the counter to make his morning tea. It was weird not hearing a good morning, or getting greeted with his soft smile. You had no idea what was bothering him, and it killed you inside.

"Y/N? You were saying?" Natasha questioned, as you had left them all hanging.

Your eyes didn't leave Steve's figure, even though he was facing away, "It uh... The date was good."

You watched Steve's whole posture tense as you spoke. Oh, how much you wanted to ask if he was okay. You just didn't feel like you had the right to. The last time you spoke, you were yelling at his face.

"Come on! Give us the details!" Tony pushed.

You shook your head, suddenly not wanting to bother Steve with details of your date. You plasteted on a forced smirk, "You'll have to wait and see if we weet again."

"No come on!"

As Steve was facing away, you couldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. You couln't see the absolute heartbreak on his face from the thought of having lost you. He really felt like he had lost the most important person in his life - and you didn't even know he saw you as such.

Over the past few days, you hadn't shared a single word with Steve, and it was starting to drive you crazy. You didn’t even face each other while in the same room - it was a good thing you hadn't shared a mission yet.

All you wanted was for Steve to be happy, and to be his friend again, so with that, you decided it was time to apologize for your behaviour – even if he wouldn’t forgive you for being such an ass, you knew it was the right thing to do.

Your palms felt sweaty, and your mouth all dried out as you stepped outside his room, “Okay… here goes nothing.” You knocked on the door, feeling your heart thump rapidly against your chest.

When he didn’t answer you knocked twice, then again and again. Giving up, you asked Tony’s A.I. for help, “FRIDAY, where’s Steve?”

“In the gym ma’am.”

You let out a sigh, “Is he… okay?”

“From what I can tell, he seems distressed and angry.”

You felt a knot in your stomach. It was 8 pm, and Steve never worked out in the gym that late unless he was upset, “Fuck… Thanks FRIDAY.”

Earlier that day, Steve had been walking past the door to your room at least five times, with the intention to make up. Though the super solider was way too nervous to bother you and chickened out. It was killing him not having your company every day. He missed you. So, with his emotions changing from heartbreak to anger, and the heavy regret from not telling you the truth and let your relationship come to this, he escaped to the gym.

You entered the gym and carefully closed the door behind you. It took you seconds to see Steve by the six destroyed punching bags on the floor, the seventh about to face the same faith.

Steve’s back was tense, and you could see the anger he was feeling in every punch. You felt the knot in your stomach from before tightening, your palms even more sweaty. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to him; it was time to face the music.

Speaking of music, before you knew it your ears were singing a high-pitched tone, your head hurt and your whole back was facing the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh my god!” Steve rushed to your side, worry in his voice, “Are you okay? I’m so sorry Angel!”

You blinked a few times before looking up at the concerned man above you. Putting a hand to your head, you groaned out due to the pain. Releasing deep breath, you let Steve help you up, “I guess I deserved that.”

You had been so smart to come up behind the Captain and stand in front of the punching bag. Because of Steve’s quick and hard punches, he failed to notice you in time, and punced the bag into you, sending you flying to the floor.

“Seriously, are you okay, doll?”

The concern in Steve’s voice made you forget why you came her in the first place. You only nodded and let him lead you to sit down on a bench. He didn’t let go of your hand as you both sat down.

Steve let out a shaky breath. It was clear it had scared him when he saw you flying in the air, and it was all his fault too. You could see the guilt on his face. He still cared so damn much.

You had enough of Steve feeling so down because of you, he didn’t deserve a second of it, “Steve I’m okay. I’m the idiot for creeping up on you like that… Also, I kinda deserved it after how shitty I’ve been treating you.”

“What are you talking about?” There was confusion in the Captain’s eyes.

“Just… let me talk.” Suddenly you had the courage to just get it out. You took hold of both his hands and looked deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m so sorry Steve. I’ve been an absolute asshole towards you.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as you shook your head, “Let me continue. You’re my best friend and I have so much love for you. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and I was yelling at you for it. Thinking about how good you treat me, your friend, I can only imagine how good you treat Sharon. She’s very lucky and I wish you guys the best.”

Your gaze fell from Steve and down into your lap, “I… I’ve been jealous. With all those dates you’ve been on… Why couldn’t you just pick one the girls and get it over with? I…”

“Cause none of them were you.”

You looked up at him, shock in your eyes, unsure if you heard him correctly. Steve plastered on a small smile, his eyes so soft as he looked into yours, “Y/N, there’s nothing between Sharon and I. The other day, when you saw us at the park, we were walking back from visiting Peggy’s grave. It was only a coincidence we were there at the same time.”

“Oh… but what about your date the day before? You said it was good?” You asked, feeling almost ashamed.

“You left too soon to hear what I told Nat and Wanda. I had a good time, but I wasn’t interested. I’d have way more fun with someone else there with me…” Steve’s voice was low, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, “I can’t hold it back anymore Y/N. I love you; I always have. And those stupid dates?”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at his confession. Never in a million years would you have thought he loved you back.

Steve chuckled lightly, a hint of sadness in his eyes, “I went on those to get you off my mind. I never belied you could love me back, you’re way too good for me, Angel. Though every damn date I went on, I just couldn’t get you off my mind. Every time they wanted me to come home with them, I only thought; No, I can’t do that to my best girl.”

“Steve…” You felt so stupid for not having confessed your feelings earlier. All this misunderstanding could’ve been avoided, “I love you too. I love you so damn much Stevie.”

Steve breath caught in his throat, not sure he was hearing you clearly, “What?” The word came out weak, like he was scared to wake up from a dream, “What about--”

“Cristopher?” You giggled, “Oh, I had a nice time with him, but you know, he wasn’t you.”

Steve laughed loudly and you joined in. Both of you realised how stupid and blind you had been. You loved each other.

Steve caressed your cheek again, his thumb stroking over your soft skin. The look in his eyes were different than before; you knew it was love. His features, his voice, all soft, “Can I… kiss you?”

You only nodded and let him lead you towards his lips. The kiss was gentle, but a firework erupted inside of you. It made tears fall from your eyes, his too. Pulling away, Steve kissed the top of your head before speaking, “My beautiful, Angel. I can’t believe I finally have you.”

You threw yourself forward and let him wrap his strong arms around you. His embrace felt like home.

It felt so right, and finally, your heart was satisfied.

You didn’t see the tears continue to stream down Steve’s cheeks. You didn’t see the huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. He was so damn in love with you, and he already knew that someday, he wanted to call you his wife.

THE END! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is very much appreciated <3

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #natasha romanoff #tony stark #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #captain america imagine #captain ameirca #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Text

rubber duck

in which reader is sick and spencer takes care of his girl!!

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as girl, non-sexual undressing + nudity/intimacy, reader takes bath, spencer doesn't but he is in fact present a/n: heeeeyyy guys.... sorry for not posting for a month... accept this as a token of my gratitude and know that smut is in the works. keep sending requests, might not answer them but you never knoww!!

Spencer gets home around ten PM. Granted, it’s not a completely unreasonable time for someone to be asleep, but for you? A person who’d rather not go to bed at all than wake up before eight in the morning? You being passed out on the couch at this time is definitely abnormal.

He drops his bag on the coffee table as he approaches, kneeling next to where you’re curled up in the dark room. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you if you’re tired, but he’s mildly concerned. Normally after him being away all week you’ll stay up until he gets home regardless of how late (or early) it is. Ambient light coming in through the window allows him to see the sickly sheen to your skin, and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

“Spence?” you murmur, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. His response is equally quiet, wavering slightly.

“Hey. Are you feeling okay, angel?”

Even though you decidedly are not, your spirit lifts considerably at the sight of him in front of you. A wave of caramel hair falls over his furrowed brow as he scans your face, looking for signs that something is wrong. You brush it away, hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“I’m fine. I missed you a lot.”

Your voice is a paper-thin whisper, giving you away even as you try to downplay your condition.

“I missed you too, but I’m a little worried. You’re pretty warm.” His eyes dart away from your face and down your body, seeming to notice your attire for the first time. “Did you go to work?”

“I tried to. But I had to come home at early. I guess I didn’t make it all the way to bed.”

This seems to worry him even more, if the way his eyes narrow and the line of his mouth tightens is anything to go by.

“How long have you been asleep?”

“Well... what time is it?” you ask sheepishly, still disoriented.

“10:20.”

“Oh god,” you moan, burying your face into a pillow (which does not make breathing any easier through all the congestion), “I’ve been sleeping for eight hours!” Panic wells in your chest at the ridiculous notion that you somehow lost an entire day to sleep. "I didn't mean to-"

“Shh, relax, it's fine. Your immune system works a lot more efficiently when you’re asleep. It’s the best thing you can do when you’re sick. Studies show that melatonin may actually be an effective antiviral, and people who sleep seven hours a night are 300% less likely to develop an illness than people who sleep only five hours a night.”

Despite yourself, you smile into the pillow at his unprompted information dump.

“So... am I... 500% more likely to be better tomorrow?”

He laughs, running a hand through your hair.

“I don’t even know where you got that number.”

“I failed statistics in high school,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto an elbow.

“Honey, that’s Algebra.”

You bury your face in your hand and laugh at your own stupidity- before it devolves into a coughing fit.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I know you hate germs,” you say once you’ve managed to get the coughing under control. You look at his face, but there are no signs of disgust or fear.

“I could never hate your germs. But I am worried about the cough... do you think a bath would help?”

You mull it over. Part of you wants to rot on the couch forever, but the more rational part knows you should definitely get up and try to take care of yourself. With a helping hand from Spencer you rise, stumbling into his waiting arms like a foal on shaky legs. Immediately you feel fatigued, but he patiently guides you to the bedroom and sits you on the mattress before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom.

For a few minutes the only sound aside from you catching your breath is the tub filling from the other room. Soon he returns, to find you curled up on the bed and barely conscious once more.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, gathering you up in his arms and helping you to your feet once more. “You really don’t feel good, huh?”

You shake your head, allowing yourself to be carefully herded into the bathroom. Spencer moves to sit on the edge of the steaming tub, pulling you forward gently by your belt loops. Deftly he begins to undo your jeans as you fumble with the buttons on your shirt.

“I feel like I’m dying,” you groan. He glances up at you.

“I wish you would have told me you were sick. I would have come home earlier.”

“I thought about it,” you admit sheepishly, “but I figured better I be sick and alone than more people potentially end up dead because I’m too needy.”

Your boyfriend sighs, resting his hands on your hips as he looks up at you with a mix of earnestness and admonishment.

“At least tell me next time. I don’t like the idea of you here all alone without anyone knowing you’re ill.” His fingers press gently into your flesh to emphasize his point. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree softly, without hesitation. Spencer’s expression softens too, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum.

“In,” he directs after you wiggle out of your jeans, getting out of the way and helping you into the water. He watches as you carefully submerge yourself, a little tense as if he’s ready to jump into action at any second. “Is it too warm? I tried not to make it too hot because your body temperature is al-”

“It’s perfect,” you reassure, sinking further in. Steam billows up around you and you sniff. “Lavender?”

Spencer nods, settling on the floor next to you.

“And mint. I’m surprised you can actually smell it.”

Normally you’d tease him for his fussing, but the minty steam really does seem to be helping you breathe a bit easier. After only a few minutes, you feel noticeably better.

“Will you read to me?” you ask dropping your head to your shoulder to look at him.

He’s leaning against the wall and monitoring you with a contented look on his face. At the suggestion his eyebrows raise.

“Of course. What do you want to hear?”

“Fairytales. But only the super gory ones. The more disturbing the better.”

“What? No Jane Austen?”

“Ugh, no. I need to hear about terrible things happening to beautiful princesses so I can feel seen.”

A small smirk graces his lips as he regards you, eyes sparkling with humor and thinly veiled affection.

“You are utterly ridiculous.”

“You have to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you whine, slinking lower into the bubbles. Spencer hums in sympathy, running his hand through the water to check the temperature before trailing his knuckles over your arm.

“My poor sick girl,” he teases. You huff indignantly, attempting to hide the way his words make you melt into the bathwater.

“Just get the book, Spencer.”

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses your forehead (covertly gauging your fever, you’re sure) before pushing off the ground. You watch him leave, heart overflowing with adoration even though you still feel sick. Maybe it’s the bath that’s helping, or maybe it’s just his presence.

A minute later he returns to his post beside you bearing Grimm’s Fairytales and a tall glass of water, which he tells you to drink all of before he starts reading. Regardless of how unwell you feel, you find the energy to make sarcastic comments about the characters’ intelligence and the implausibility of the plot (it’s a fairytale, Spencer reminds you) but soon the soothing cadence of his voice enthralls you. The illustrations and the story capture your imagination as you rest your head and arms on the side of the tub.

More time has gone by than you realize when you begin to shiver in the now lukewarm water. Spencer notices, finally setting the book down.

“Ready to get out?”

You nod and he helps you step out of the tub, pulling you close and wrapping you with a fluffy towel. Absolutely no heed is given to the state of his own clothing as your wet skin soaks his shirt, or his own health as he breathes in your air.

“I’m gonna get you sick, Spence,” you say anxiously, making a feeble attempt to pull away. Spencer doesn’t even begin to allow it, holding you even tighter. The honesty of his words is reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you adoringly.

“I can live with the idea of spending a few days at home together.”

You lean into him further, too tired to hold much of your own weight up.

“I can’t believe you have to intentionally get sick to get time off work.”

“You’re definitely worth it.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back for a moment.

“And to think,” you muse, the words muffled by his shirt, "when we first met, you wouldn’t even shake my hand.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic

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jobean12-blog · 3 months

Text

Next Door to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!

Last week

Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.

You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.

Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.

The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.

Oh hi neighbor.

Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.

You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.

His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.

He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.

“Can I help you doll?”

“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”

“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”

You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.

“I’ll take care of ya doll.”

With a wink he holds up one long finger.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.

You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.

Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.

“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”

You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.

“Ah, of course he likes you.”

You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.

“Thank you….?”

“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.

You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”

“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”

“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”

His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.

The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”

“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”

Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”

Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.

“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”

You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.

“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”

He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.

“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”

You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”

He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.

“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”

He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.

“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”

He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”

“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.

“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Would you say yes if I were?”

Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.

Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.

Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.

“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.

Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.

“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.

You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”

You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.

The next morning you get another text from him.

“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”

“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.

“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”

“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”

“Just you…”

“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”

“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”

“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”

He sends a wink face.

“Is it Saturday yet?”

“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”

“Have a good day Bucky.”

“You too doll…stay dry.”

You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.

The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Oh doll. Look at you.”

He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.

“Soaked,” you say sadly.

“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.

“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”

He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”

He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.

“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”

His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.

“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.

He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.

“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.

“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.

With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”

“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”

“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.

Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.

“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”

The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.

“Oh I like that,” you whisper.

He does it again.

“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”

His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.

“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.

“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.

“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.

A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.

When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.

He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.

You tremble.

“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.

“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“See you later Bucky.”

“I’m counting on it doll.”

You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.

Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.

“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”

“It’s really Saturday!”

“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”

“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”

“What kinds of things….?”

“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”

You can almost hear his groan through the phone.

“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”

Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.

“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.

It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.

“He’s at least a nine.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.

“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.

The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.

“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”

“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”

“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.

“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”

Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.

“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.

“I’m right here,” you say.

Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.

“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.

However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”

Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”

“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”

“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.

“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.

“You didn’t shave.”

He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.

“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.

“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”

Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.

Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.

“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.

When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.

The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.

The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.

“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”

After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.

As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.

“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.

“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.

“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”

You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.

His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.

You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.

With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.

“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.

His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.

His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.

“Please, Bucky,” you pant.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

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