#benny miller x y/n

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Sooooo…….how do you think Benny boi would handle being caught half-naked from out the shower by his darling?? He’s showering after winning his match-up she thought he was finished but to her surprise…….. this scenario has been stuck in my brain 💀💀

Adrenaline.

oh baby... thank you for this.

warnings - smut. cursing.

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Ben? You in here?"

You walk through the locker room, looking for your partner as you go. Eventually, when you reach the showers, you hear the water running.

"Babe?" Benny yells from behind the curtain. "That you?"

You pull it back and pop your head around, trying to keep your eyes on his.

"It's me. I'll just wait for you on the bench out here."

Before you can blink, a strong hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you into the shower, water drenching you immediately. You shriek, swatting at his chest to try and escape.

His palms find your hips, plastering your bodies together.

"Need you," he murmurs into your ear, brushing your hair away from your face. "Can't wait until we get home."

"I'm soaked," you whine.

"You will be."

"Asshole," you laugh, resting your forehead on his sternum. "I like this dress. Dry."

"Stop worrying," he soothes, rucking the material up and over your head, throwing it onto the tiled floor. "Let me take your mind off it, hmm?"

He pulls your underwear down your legs, chuckling when you step out of them willingly.

Benny places your hands on the wall, kicking your feet apart. Pressing kisses down your spine, he sighs softly, grabbing handfuls of your ass as he goes.

"Fuck, this is what I needed. You, all pretty and pliant for me. So good, baby. Such a good girl."

Benny lines himself up and slides home in one smooth movement, both of you gasping in unison.

"That's it," he coos. "Take it, baby. Like you know you can. Like you were made for it."

You drop your head onto your arm and let him mould you however he likes, clearly needing the outlet. He gets like this, after his fights. He vibrates with the energy of it, looking for a release in any way he can get it.

You've become his favourite solution.

"Ben," you whine. "Fuck, babe."

"Yeah, honey. Keep saying my name just like that, please."

Benny's rhythm is frantic, frazzled, rushed, but he still manages to hit exactly the right spots. He knows your body like the back of his hand, that much is clear.

"Close," you choke out, trying not to swallow the water that still beats down. "Benny."

"Come for me, pretty girl. Give me all you've got. Please. I want it baby, that's it."

His honeyed words send you over the edge, muscles tensing and eyes rolling back. Benny joins you, groaning lowly against the wet skin of your back.

You both try to catch your breath for a moment, Ben reaching over to turn off the water. You spin and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

"Better?"

"So much better," he chuckles.

You're about to respond when you hear the locker room door open, the sounds of multiple heavy footsteps filling the room.

"Benny! Champion! Where you at?"

You look at him with wide eyes, both of you realising the hilarity of the situation. Benny reaches out of the curtain to grab his dry shirt from the bench, tossing it to you and wrapping a towel around his waist. You throw it on and follow him out towards the boys sheepishly, knowing you're not about to get away with what you've just done.

"There you are!"

The boys look between you and Benny, putting the pieces together.

"You two are ridiculous," Frankie laughs.

Santiago winks at you as you bury your head in Benny's shoulder, laughter bouncing off the lockers around the room.

#benny miller x reader #benny miller smut #benny miller fluff #benny miller #benny miller imagine #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benny miller x reader smut #benny miller x you #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x y/n #frankie morales x reader #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier x reader smut

[flightlessangelwings]

A kiss on the cheek that turns into a kiss on the lips

Benny Miller x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 663

Warnings- friends to lovers, mutual pining, hint of spice

Notes- Written for my 4k follower drabble event requested by anon! Thank you so much for the request I think this is one of my personal favs of the event!! Taglists are closed. To stay up to date on when I post, follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

“Nice shot babe!” Benny’s encouraging voice made your heart flutter as he playfully bumped your hip with his.

You chuckled nervously to hide the way your hand trembled under his piercing gaze, “Thanks, Ben,” you mumbled as you fiddled with your poolstick.

Nights out like this were wonderful and relaxing, but also nerve wracking. You loved nothing more than when you got together with all the guys and you could just forget about the world around you for a few hours. They all made you feel welcome in their group right away, and you felt comfortable around them. Santiago, Frankie and the Miller brothers quickly became your best friends.

But there was one of them you thought of as more than just friends. And Benny’s flirtatious nature didn’t help the growing feelings you harbored for him. From the moment you met, you were captivated by him; Benny’s charming smile, his infectious laugh, his soft eyes, his kind nature made you a goner before you even had a chance. 

But you two were just friends… There was no way he felt the same about you. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It made it hard at times though whenever he would wrap his arm around you or gently nudge your chin or give you a subtle wink. You convinced yourself that was just how he was, though, and it didn’t mean anything with you. Especially when you knew about the nights he went home with someone else… 

“Hey…” Benny’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, “You still with me here, babe?” he asked with a puzzled look in his eyes, “I need your help to kick Pope and Fish’s ass and win this pool game!” 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, “I’m still here,” you found your voice as you steadied yourself on your feet next to your partner, “Let’s win this thing, Benny!”

“Alright that’s what I want to hear!” Benny cheered as he kissed you softly on the cheek in the heat of the moment. 

Both of you froze.

“Ben…” you whispered as your fingers grazed the skin of your face and you felt like you were on fire.

Benny’s gaze turned serious as the world melted away around him and only you were in focus. His hand landed on the side of your face as his eyes dropped down to your lips for just a moment, “Is this ok… baby?” he asked in a tone you had never heard before.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

Benny’s face lit up and before you knew it, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer as he pressed his lips against yours. You immediately melted into his embrace and parted your lips for him. Sparks flew between you as months of repressed feelings exploded to the surface. It all felt like a whirlwind: one moment you were just playing pool with Benny, the next moment you were living a romance fantasy.

Cheers from the other end of the pool table brought the moment crashing down as quickly as it started, however, and you and Benny broke away to find Santi, Frankie and Will cheering for the two of you.

“Fucking finally!” Santi jeered.

“We were wondering how long it was going to take you two idiots to realize you liked each other,” Will added.

A wave of heat pulsed through your veins and you felt even more embarrassed than before. 

“Fuck off, you guys,” Benny snipped at them, “We were just taking our time that’s all.”

“Yeah, ok,” Frankie rolled his eyes with a smile, “Now can we get back to the game or are we going to have to watch you two suck each other’s faces the rest of the night?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Benny bantered back at his friends, “Just one more kiss,” he said before he leaned in and kissed you again before he murmured in your ear, “If they think this is bad, just wait til I get you home…”

#benny miller x reader #benny miller #benny miller x you #benny miller imagine #benny miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #ben miller x you #ben miller imagine #ben miller fic #ben miller #garrett hedlund #Triple Frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller fic #benny miller fanfic #ben miller fanfic

[growup-thatbeautiful]

I love all your fics!!!! I wondering if I could please request imagine (Triple Frontier) Ben Miller x shy girlfriend reader and both your infant son is mommy boy. Pretty adorable like every single day walking around the building, waiting for Ben or after the MMA fights, being both his good luck charms 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

A/n: you’re a genius, lovely! this is post-canon so i don’t have to deal with tom :) also, i spent so much time choosing the gif because i kept getting distracted about how pretty they are (the tf boys and the gifs)

Warnings: none :) reader has a kid, so if that’s not your thing don’t read!

triple frontier masterlist

Good Luck Charm

The brick wall of the gym hallway is cool against your shoulder from where you’re leaning against it. The smell of clean linoleum and the hum of the fluorescents above you provide a timeless cocoon for the sleeping bundle in your arms to nuzzle in closer to your chest.

“Good morning, Jules,” you coo softly when the bundle opens his eyes. “Have a good nap?” You get a bleary-eyed stare in response. Julian, named after Benny’s mom Julia, slowly blinks at you before spitting out his pacifier, spit following behind.

“Baby, why’d you do that?” you ask him. “You want your paci.” Sure enough, his face starts to turn red and you see his throat work up an upset whimper. Before he can start to fuss to much, though, you press the pacifier back into his mouth. Contentment settles on his face and his eyes slide back closed.

Distantly, you can hear the yelling crowd from the gym, and you don’t know how Jules is sleeping at all. The crowd is larger than normal on account of the sizable opponent Benny is fighting, hence the reason you’re waiting in the hallway instead of watching the fight.

You used to watch all of his matches when you where dating- you couldn’t get enough of the thrill of watching your Benny up on that platform, fighting with all of his strength to win. But, as you got more attached to him, it got harder to watch him take punches, especially when you had Julian.

Even if you aren’t in the room, it doesn’t stop you from thinking about Benny. The fight hasn’t started yet, which means that he’s probably in the locker room down the hall getting hyped up by the guys. As clear as if he was right in front of you, you see him wrap his hands carefully with bandages and gloves, his wedding band around a cord on his neck that holds his dog tags.

Will’s probably giving him some sort of pep talk with Santiago tagging on any information he deems helpful, which usually isn’t. Frankie, quiet and composed, os sitting on the bench, sizing up the opponent and searching for any weaknesses. They make quiet the group of men together. All there for Benny, even though none of them have to do this anymore.

When the crowd’s cheers grow louder, you know Benny’s made his way into the gym. Your husband’s always been a town favorite, and tonight there’s some sort of special opponent that he’s facing. You try not to learn all of the details- they usually make you too nervous. Benny knows not to tell you anything the same way you know not to ask questions when you patch him up. Blood, after being with him for so long, isn’t a problem for you anymore.

From somewhere down the hall, a voice calls your name. You could recognize that voice from anywhere, and if that wasn’t a dead giveaway then the loud, expletive-filled Spanish greeting gives him away before you can turn around and tell him that Julian’s asleep. Santiago wraps his arms around you, careful of Julian, and greets you warmly. “Hola, mija. How’s the kid?”

“Trying to sleep,” you respond without any malice at all. “No thanks to you.” He at least looks a little bit ashamed, but that clears away from his face as soon as Frankie steps next to him.

“Jesus, Pope, could you be any louder?” Frankie says, patting you roughly on the shoulder with a grin. “You think you would learn how to be around kids after all this time, ¿eh cabròn?”

“Thanks, Frank.” Santi’s voice is dripping with its usual sarcasm and sass, but all of you are used to it by now. 99% of what Santi says can be taken with a grain of salt.

In the gym, Benny’s name is announced over the loudspeaker and the lights start flashing rapidly. “I guess that’s your que to go,” you say. “Wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

“Can we convince you to join us?” Frankie asks. Because it’s Frankie, you know he means the offer. If you asked him, he would take care of Julian while you went to see Benny, and you would trust him fully to do so. After two of his own kids, Frankie knows how to take care of all kinds of disasters, and you know his gentleness applies to anyone he considers family.

But you just don’t think that you watching is a good idea. “Nah, it’s okay, Frankie. Maybe next time.” Both of you know you’ll say the exact same thing next time too, but you always appreciate the offer.

With a knowing look, Frankie nods and leads Santiago down the hall with him into the crowded, hazy gym. You turn your attention back to Julian, who looks content in his dinosaur onesie. It was a gift from Will, and Benny wanted Julian to show support for his uncles.

The rest of the fight passes in a the crowds oohs and aahs and you can only pay so much attention to it before it starts to make you too anxious. Realistically, you know Benny can handle whoever it is he’s fighting. You heard accidentally that there’s a pound difference between them, but Benny’s fast for someone his size and you know that he can his own. Plus, he’s got a hearty amount of backup in case something goes wrong. The worst you’ve ever had to patch up in a long is a bloody nose or bruised ribs, and even then Benny usually knows how to take care of himself more than you do.

Eventually, you hear the triumphant roars reach a crescendo and the announcer calls out Benny as the winner. Pride fills your chest as you whisper to Julian. “Daddy won his fight, Jules. Just like we told him to.” Julian, waking up due to the raised noise levels, looks at you through squinted blue eyes just like his father’s.

As people trickle past you through the back exit, you make your way into the locker room where you know Benny and the guys will be as soon as Benny’s cleared by the unofficial doctor on site. It must not have been close at all because they show up after only a few minutes, cheering and yelling their way through the door.

When Benny sees you, a grin lights up his face, as if it’s a surprise to see you there. Like you would ever miss a fight.

With one strong arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you in to a bruising kiss. “Honey,” he mutters against your lips, “I think you might be my good luck charm.”

Even after all these years, your heart still swells at his words, at the idea of Benny being just as enamored with you as you are with him. “I think Julian might be part of it too.”

With a grin, Benny looks down at the baby between you. “Hey, bud,” he greets, two sandy blond-haired heads looking at each other. While you’re the one who can seemingly always get Jules to sleep, Benny always wakes him up. Luckily, though, Julian is usually happy when he sees Benny. You can’t blame him. “How was your day with mama?”

“He had a rough day at school,” you explain softly to Benny, looking at Julian. “Apparently he was fussy.”

Benny scoffs and carefully takes Julian when you offer him. If it was anyone else covered in sweat and blood, you would say no, but you know Benny’s at least washed his hands. “My baby? Never. He’s an angel.”

“Sure, honey,” you respond, happy to see the twinkle in Benny’s eye. He may not agree, but you know there’s nothing that makes him in a better mood than winning and having his family there. “How was the fight?”

Benny’s grin spreads across his face and takes on a confidence that you usually don’t see outside of your home. “Not even close. He didn’t see a fuckin’ thing coming.”

“Benny,” you sigh, gesturing to Julian. “I’ll let it slide because you just won.”

“Good luck getting Pope to stop. His favorite words aren’t appropriate for kids,” Benny says in return, but you know he’s trying. His language is already better than it used to be. “Isn’t that right, Jules?”

Jules responds with a happy noise, one that just makes Benny’s grin even wider. You can’t help but appreciate the sight before you; your two beaming boys with each other, your family together.

Yeah, you’re going to keep coming to his fights. Maybe your his good luck charm, maybe you’re not, but nothing could possibly stop you from seeing Benny like this.

Happy. Content. Loved.

“Come here, honey,” Benny calls to you, and who are you to say no. Carefully, you let yourself be wrapped in Benny’s arms, your head on the warm muscle of his shoulder. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course,” you whisper. “We’re your good luck charms, right?”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. You ignore the whistling and cheering of Santi and Frankie and the over-exaggerated gagging of Will. “Nothin’ like you, sweetheart. Or you-” he looks down at Julia “-bud.”

You can’t help but agree.

#i’ve been talking with my friends about how much i want kids recently so this is perfect nonnie <3 #nova answers #this is adorable #triple frontier #benny miller #benjamin miller #ben miller #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fic #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x you #benny miller x y/n #benjamin miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier boys

[brewsterispunkk]

Hello!!! Could you write an angsty drabble about Benny returning without the money after the events of Triple Frontier?

“Benny, I don’t care about the money. You think I’m with an MMA fighter for the money?”

Ooo I LOVE this.

sunshine state

“I DON’T CARE”

pairing: benny miller x f!honey!reader,

summary: set after the events of sunshine state, when Benny returns from Colombia. (can be read as standalone, but better if you’ve read sunshine state first!)

WC: 1.3k

He’d been in the shower for nearly forty minutes, something nearly unheard of for Benny.

In your three years together, you’d never known him to take showers that surpassed twenty minutes long. In fact, he often chastised you for taking too long and “racking up the water bill,” as he so lovingly put it.

This wasn’t like him. Something was wrong—you knew it the minute he’d walked through the front door.

It’d been the early hours of the morning when he’d pulled in the driveway in the old pick-up that just wouldn’t die. He’d told you when he’d called you nearly twelve hours before from Bogota that you didn’t have to wait up for him, but he knew you better than to think you wouldn't. Especially after the hell that had been the last week.

It was supposed to be the usual: a quick in-and-out mission in Colombia that promised millions—much more than Pope’s little stints had provided before.

You hadn't liked it, obviously. After the last mission Benny had gone on about a year ago in which he narrowly missed a bullet to the head, you’d made him promise he’d never do it again. This, according to him, was the exception.

“A chance,” he’d called it. “A chance for us to really make it. We could finally move to the city where you could get the big museum job, honey.”

What he didn’t know was that you were content with your nine to five and the little duplex you had and your old cat and big dog and him. You didn’t need anything else. But Benny was Benny. He had a big heart but was stubborn as hell, and once he’d made his mind up about something, there was no going back.

When you’d gotten the phone call after nearly five days of radio silence, you’d sobbed with relief; You never cried.

He’d explained how the job had gone sideways, how they’d all gotten out alive, barely. That he’d be home in twelve hours. You’d been numb until you saw him walk through the door, all disheveled and travel-worn. The two of you barely talked before he excused himself to shower.

“Ben?” You called, seated on the bed you shared.

The sound of the shower faucet greeted you, with no words from him.

You shook your head.

Hell no, you thought. He was not going to push you away–you wouldn’t let him.

You opened the door to the bathroom, letting the steam calm you. You were sure to make enough noise so as to not surprise him. The last thing you needed was to trigger something.

Wordlessly, you stripped off your shirt and underwear–your pajamas– and pulled aside the curtain to join him under the stream of water.

Benny’s head was hung as you entered, the water running down his broad shoulders. His back was to you, and he said nothing at your entrance.

You ignored the shiver that went down your spine at the temperature change as you yourself stepped under the stream.

“Hey,” you began softly, wrapping your arms around his middle from behind. You rested your forehead on his spine, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You washed your hair yet, baby?”

Turning to you, Benny shook his head. As he faced you, you saw his chin wobble, his eyes wet with something other than tap water. His brows furrowed as his eyes met yours.

“Oh, babe.”

You pulled him to your chest, and when you did, he broke down, chest heaving a heavy sob. His arms wrapped around your waist, his face pressing into your neck.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he sniffed, voice warbly. “I’m so—”

“Shh, shh,” you raked your fingers through his hair. “I know. I know, baby.”

“I swear, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t, babe.”

“I should’ve listened to you, I’m so stupid. Please don’t leave me–”

“Stop it, Ben, breathe.” You raked your nails over his scalp. “That’s it, deep breaths.”

He stopped for a moment and squeezed you harder, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Where is this coming from, Ben?” You asked after a minute. “Why would I ever leave you?”

He sniffed and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Pope thinks Ev is gonna leave.”

“What?” You pulled back to look Benny in the eyes.

After their wedding a year ago, you thought absolutely nothing could pull Everett and Santi apart. You knew Everett was done with Santi’s “business” overseas, but you didn’t know he was this done with it.

“He said he thought he’d pushed him too far, right before we left Colombia.”

“Fuck,” you breathed. “How bad was it, Ben?”

Benny’s lip wobbled a bit before he spoke.

“Bad, honey.” He looked down. “Real bad.”

Your stomach plummeted.

How much danger had he been in? You weren't sure you wanted to know. What if he hadn’t come back? Tears filled your eyes at the thought.

“Honey, I’m sorry—”

“Let’s talk about this later,” you whispered. “C’mon, we gotta wash that hair.”

“Honey…”

“Ben, I’m not going anywhere. Now please, hand me the shampoo.”

- - - -

You did talk. For almost two hours.

For the most part, you raised the issue of “how he could put himself in danger like that?” Also, what that meant for you.

“Benny, do you know what would happen to me if you’d died out there?” You asked. His face crumpled.

“Honey I know–”

“No you don’t,” you said. “Obviously, you don’t or you wouldn't have even risked it.”

“Baby–”

“What if it had been me out there, almost dying halfway across the world?” You asked. Bennt just stared at the floor. “Or me who had a bullet graze their head last year in Bolivia? Huh? What would you do?”

“You know what I would do, honey.” Benny’s voice was gravely. “I’d tear the world apart to get you home.”

“So what makes you think I’d do anything less to save your life?” Your hands were on your hips as you stood in front of where he was sitting on the side of the bed. “Imagine how fucking helpless I felt here, waiting to hear if you were alive or dead.”

He was quiet for a moment, head in his hands.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally, and it was perhaps the most sincere you’d heard those words spoken.

“Don’t ever put me through that again, Benny.” You said, voice stony. “Or I swear to god, I will kill you myself.”

“Okay, honey. I promise.”

Now, as you laid beside him in bed, you couldn’t help but feel that something was still off.

To begin, there was a good six inches of space between you. Usually, as soon as Benny’s head hit the pillow, he was reaching for you, pulling you to his side or his chest.

Secondly, he hadn’t said a word, and you knew for a fact that he was awake.

Finally, you decided you couldn’t handle the silence.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” You tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’m sorry about the money.” He said sullenly. His voice sounded shot, dejected. You started.

“What?” You asked incredulously.

“I promised you millions,” he said softly. “It was the only reason you were even a little okay with me going back out there, and I came back with nothing—”

“Benny, stop it.”

“I’m sorry baby. You deserve—”

“Do you really think I give a shit about the money?” You turned over suddenly to face him in bed. Your voice was hostile, you knew it, but you needed to get your point across.

“It was millions, baby.”

“Benny, I thought you were dead,” your voice strained. You reached out a hand to palm his face in the dark. “Anything more than that is a blessing by my count.”

“Still—”

“I don’t care about the money,” you pressed your forehead, trying to get the point through his thick skull. “You think I’m with an MMA fighter for the money?”

“Guess not,” he chuckled.

You pressed a deep, long kiss to his lips. He tasted like mint and cigarettes. He must’ve taken up smoking again in Colombia. Pulling back, you smoothed his hair from his forehead.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered. “Now sleep.”

He kissed your nose and pulled you closer, before drifting to sleep.

#sunshine state #benny miller #triple frontier #benny miller x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier imagine #benny miller imagine #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x y/n #benny miller fanfic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller Drabble

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 8

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

AN: So I lied - I'm so sorry for the wait! Recently, writing hasn't come as easy to me and although it's almost a year late I hope you enjoy, this isn't the final chapter - I lied twice.

➢ fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

28th April 2022 - 37 weeks pregnant

Life playing host to the parasite that was soon to be your daughter had only gotten worse. Hard to believe, I know.

The gift that kept on giving made sure that you’d suddenly without any warning whatsoever have the overwhelming urge to vomit. 

There was no rhyme or reason to her neat new little party trick but at any given moment your stomach said nope and you bought up whatever you happened to have eaten or as the case may be; be eating at the time. 

Honestly, you weren’t a negative person by nature, but these agonizing eight months had taken it out of you. 

Hell, you were in the process of drafting an eviction notice if this kid didn’t get out of you in the next two weeks. 

Long story short, between this and the Benny situation you were not exactly the best of company, right now. 

The boys and Val had all learnt this early on and for the past eight days, you had given up all pretense of a brave face, now you were bleeding and letting everyone who would listen know about it.

When Santiago, who had decided to stay in town until the birth of your baby, suggested a stroll around the mall, you had fixed him with the stare that would have had a lesser man running back to Colombia with his tail between his legs. Until, of course, he had sweetened the deal with fried chicken, his treat and coincidentally the only meal that you had yet to regurgitate. 

So, here you found yourself with Santiago and William and a six piece bucket to yourself.

The change in company was a welcome distraction from dwelling on your non-existent love life at home with the love of your life. 

After the thorn in your side that was Jasmine, reared her ugly head at the baby shower, you had pulled back into your protective bubble of distant and cold. 

Benny, though confused about the message, received it loud and clear as he returned to the swing to find you inside and talking incredibly heatedly to Valerie. In the eight days that followed, he yet to confront you about it. Apparently old habits died hard.. 

The camaraderie that had come hand in hand with your truce had dissolved. You weren’t actively unpleasant, but you didn’t melt into his side, or nap on the couch with him anymore. 

You had established boundaries, resolving yourself to the simple philosophy of anything you wouldn’t do with Frankie, you wouldn’t do with Ben. 

It was simple… well kind of, every one of your moves was carefully calculated and exhausting.

For example, lying on the couch watching a movie with a leg rub? Acceptable. 

Frankie would do that for your swollen ankle joint, hell, he had done.

However, lying on the couch with his body sandwiched against yours as you fall asleep, the hardness of him pressed into your backside; well… that was quite clearly a no, but I digress! 

Boundaries were established and what almost was, had been completely and totally healthily avoided at all costs, creating the exact tenuous home environment you'd spent so long trying to avoid. 

So, here you found yourself in the food court, slamming some fried chicken trying desperately to forget your woes.

“She’s too clingy…” Santi huffed in between a bite of his burger, talking mostly to Will as you had yet to peak up from behind your bucket. 

“Maybe she just likes you and wants to spend time with you, god forbid someone shows interest.” You grunted irritably between bites, looking for a fight. 

Both men turned to you in surprise, the whites of their eyes visible as they feared your outburst. 

Santiago strategically paused as he searched for the right words before he began to speak again. 

“You’re right … Maybe I’m too harsh.” Pope placated as he fixed you with a look of reproach, however, that only served to enrage you further. 

He watched for your reaction as if you were an angry bear or a child throwing a tantrum. Truth be told, you weren’t strictly unlike either of those things at that precise moment. 

Your brows narrowed, ready to unload and tell him all the reasons he was a dick before a cramping pain in your bloated abdomen overwhelmed you. Your eyes clenched shut as you breathed heavily through your nose, your ringed fingers gripped at the circular table in pain. 

It was impossible for you to judge how long went by before the pain finally passed. 

You took a further second or two to even your breathing before you resumed eating, succinctly dropping the subject that had injected fire into your veins merely moments before. 

With a fry in your mouth, you glanced up to find both men watching you. 

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” They questioned in unison. 

A moment passed as you swallowed your mouthful before you concisely answered your comrades. “I’m pretty sure I’m going into labor.” 

“And … you don’t think we should be actively doing something about that?” Santiago pressed, looking as if he was ready to bolt.

“Labor can take hours and I won't be able to eat once it gets going…” You shrug, picking up another piece of chicken. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Pope breathed, eyes wide before he palmed in his eye sockets in frustration, attempting to rub the stress you induced away.

Will had dragged his chair to your side, his eyes focused on his watch.

“Don’t worry so much… the book said until they're ten minutes apart … there’s no point going …  to the hospital!” You explain in between bites of greasy chicken. 

Your words do little to quell their panic as both men look as if they're ready to pull their hair out with worry. 

“I’ll ring Ben.” Santi groaned as he stood up and reached into his jacket pocket before fishing out his phone. He turned dramatically with a finger pointed in your general direction. “You get her to hurry up - I swear to god, Y/N. If you’re eating when I get back, pregnant or not, I’ll drag you to that car. You’re not having your baby in the damn food court… estúpida, obstinada…” The man continued grunting curses at your expenses as he stalked off for somewhere quiet with cell reception to call the father of your child.

The silence that extended all of three minutes was too good to be true as Will watched your face as you ate for any sign of distress. 

“Whilst giving Pope a coronary is always a good time… don’t you think we should go and get your bag and meet Ben?” Will’s voice was soft, the kind of soothing tone you’d seen him use to talk down shell shocked soldiers - it was both unassuming and laced with copious amounts of compassion. 

You’d be damned if it didn’t just piss you right off. 

With a quick shake of your head, you dropped the empty bone into the bucket with the rest of the carcasses and took a long sip of your drink. 

“I’m good here … I can meet you guys there if you like?”

The pinch in his brow was quite simply incredulous, his concern was quickly outweighing his patience. 

“If you think I’m leaving you both here, you’re insane.”

Chewing on the straw of your drink; your eyes locked with his. They were brimming with a concoction of confusion and concern, which if the clench in his jaw was anything to go by, was slowly morphing into exasperation at your lack of compliance. 

“I … just need some time.”

“Y/N. All you’ve spoken about for the past week is how you want this to be over, wish granted - she’s coming and she’s coming now.”

“That’s what he said…” You uttered half-heartedly under your breath as you broke eye contact, no longer able to face his look of bewilderment. 

On the red tray in front of you was a lemon scented wet wipe hidden among napkins and sauces, you tore open the former and gratuitously began scrubbing the grease off of your hands, actively ignoring the perplexed stare of one of your closest friends. 

“Y/N, we need to get moving… will you just stop and listen?” Will snapped finally as he grabbed the wipe from your grip as you passed over your digits for the third time. 

Your own patience had reached its end as his hand gripped your elbow, his intention to make good on Santiago’s threat and drag you out, clear and present in your mind.

The devil in question was making his way back to your table, all quick strides as he dodged the food courts clientele.

You wrenched your arm from his grip huffing in annoyance at the well meaning Miller. 

“Fine. Let's go and get my bag, maybe we can grab an iced tea on the way to the car…”

Will nodded but you knew the mother hen would never allow a diversion from the mission at hand. 

All was going well. 

You were compliant as you strode through the mall, both men flanking you like a high priority asset as you clambered into Santi’s rental truck.

Hell, you were goddamn amenable as you unlocked your front door and grabbed the hospital duffel bag from the cubby under the stairs. 

However, your cooperation waned somewhat when heading to the maternity ward as  the guys tried to wheel your chair past the hospital's Starbucks. 

Your palm, lightening fast, caught the break on the chair causing it to veer left right into Santiago’s shins.

“Ice Tea!”

“You’ve got a baby about to shoot out of your hoo-hah and you're stopping for tea?!” Santi huffed incredulously as he rubbed his shin.

“My contractions are 25 minutes apart, when they’re 15, I’ll consider joining the panicking cry baby club.” 

“Panicking baby- huh!” Santi huffed rubbing his forehead. “You are not well, Y/N/N! You’re having a baby - Go and have it and then I’ll bathe you in fucking tea!” 

“I’ll come back down and grab you one-” Will placated before Santi bent to remove the break on the chair, allowing Will to move all of two steps, before you slammed it back on, the rubber tyres screeched against the tile floor of the hospital lobby. 

“Tea. First.” You huffed much like a troublesome child. 

This time it was Will who leaned down to remove the break, having clearly decided you weren’t in your right mind.

So, you did the only thing you could; you threw your baby bag off of your lap. 

“Y/N, stop being a goddamn child!” Will huffed, you had clearly pushed him to the edge, not that it had been particularly hard. 

Ignoring him, you began to stand. They both watched on in horror as you slowly ambled your way to the end of the queue. 

Leaning against the drinks fridge, you sighed. 

Your spine was aching something awful. The poor timing of this kid resumed as a contraction wracked your body, sharper than the others, it felt longer but you had no way to be sure. 

Will was at your side the second it overcame your body.

“Twenty minutes apart, please, Y/N. Come on.”

When finally the pain dissipated, your aching back remained. You weren’t proud of the weight you were placing on Will but the floor was the only other option. 

“y/n?! … Y/N!” You heard Benny hollar before you saw him, his eyes were wild with panic as he rushed to your side. He patted his brother on the shoulder, before taking his place. “Baby, what are you doing? You need to get into bed.”

“I want… my … tea.” You huffed, breathing not yet evening out. 

“Fine, we get the tea and we go straight up. How far apart are they?”

“Twen-”

The gush of amniotic fluid leaving your body cut the older Miller off, soaking through your jeans and unfortunately onto Benny’s shoes.

“You just pissed, she just pissed!” Santi cried in disbelief, his hands an almost permanent fixture in his disheveled curls at this point. It was hard to believe this man was a pressure player.

“It's not piss, it's her waters. We need to go, I’m sorry baby, you can have all the ice tea you want when it's safe for you both.” He bent down and caught your sodden legs, picking you up in one sweep. 

If you weren’t currently covered in amniotic fluid, that story book firefighter carry would have set your loins ablaze. 

Who were you kidding? 

You were absolutely drenched in amniotic fluid and your loins were practically smoking. 

Between writhing in pain as your uterus contracted to eject a literal watermelon and lusting over your baby daddy who you had spent the last eight days practically snarling at every time he dared advance, the journey to your delivery suite had been all but a blur. 

Somehow all three men surrounded you, having coerced their way through the midwifery staff with their nefarious charm. 

“How ya’ doing champ?” Santi questioned as you huffed on the oxygen inhaler handed to you by your midwife. A thumbs up was all you could offer as you groaned through the contractions that were now give or take five minutes apart. 

“How about we use a bit of gravity?” The woman in control of the drugs questioned. A suggestion you were only more than happy to try.

Following her instructions and with minor assistance from Ben you were now on all fours, frantically inhaling the gas and air. 

“We’re going to need to clear the room, anyone who isn’t the father needs to leave.” 

You were so far gone, you didn’t care if they saw the business end of your cervix. All you knew was uncontrollable pain that wracked your body every five minutes like a sadistic egg timer. 

Ben wiped at your forehead with a damp towel as tears escaped. 

“You can do this, baby.”

“UGNGH.. It feels like I’m shitting a knife!” You cried as another contraction wracked your body. 

“Not long now, gorgeous. Then we’ll have our baby.”

“I’m not ready.” You cried burying your face in the reclined back of the bed. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You are-”

“No. We’re not ready. Things were … supposed to be fixed… I promised her.”

“Wha-”

“I love you, you stupid fucking idiot. I have done for like ten years…  loved you from the second I heard your tone deaf ass singing that … crappy hick song on base. Ungh… And everything is so broken because I don’t want you … to just stay for the Bean, I want to be with you … because you want to be with me.” You cried, tears wracking your body as uncontrollably as the contractions.

“It’s all broken… I promised her and I fucked it all up. You … and Jaz can just live happily ever-” You cut yourself off with a low wail as another contraction wracked your body. It seemed to knock Benny out of his stupor as his hand rubbed your lower back.

It was a moment before you leveled out and remembered you were divulging your innermost thoughts but a moment ago, though you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Bigger fish to fry, and all that.

“I love you. Even if you are the goddamn most stubborn fuckin’ idiot I’ve ever met. You're the mama of my baby, yeah. It scares the crap outta me. Loving you. Damn near spent three months thinking up all the reasons we couldn’t be together cause it scared me so bad.” He huffed, stroking your hair. He helped you reposition on your back, as you breathed in another wave of oxygen. “I love you, Y/N. - I don’t do this. I don’t do relationships … because this feeling in my stomach when I think of you is fuckin awful. Sure I get the tingles when you smile at me or stroke my arm. But ninety-nine percent of the time, fucking nightmare, I worry if you’re happy, if you’ve eaten and now we’re adding an whole ass entire other person into this fucking clown show.”

“Gee… thanks.” You huffed in between breaths of gas and air. 

Ben chuckled as he pushed the sweat sodden hair back from your brow. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours, the kiss was brief and nowhere near what was needed but it was all you could manage. 

It was enough, you thought at that moment.

The promise, that everything wasn’t lost, there was hope ahead, it carried you through.

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichue @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

#benny miller fic #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x reader #ben miller x reader #garret hedlund #triple frontier fic #triple froniter #Benny Miller #Benjamin Miller #Ben Miller #triple frontier #triple frontier au #william ironhead miller #francisco catfish morales #santiago garcia #benjamin miller #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #Commitment Issues

[softlyspector]

The dress

Summary: When you order a dress to wear to Frankie's wedding, you aren't quite expecting the reaction it gets out of you and Benny both.

Pairing: Ben “Benny” Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: ~5.3k

Warnings: this is literally just 5.3k words of filthy benny miller smut

A/N: What can I say? Benny just does something to me. Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

“Holy shit,” you hear a moment before Benny’s body crashes into yours, jolting you into the mirror you stand in front of. You have to raise your hands and catch yourself against the cool glass before your nose can slam into it. 

“Oof, Christ, Ben,” you shove an arm back at him. 

Benny wraps himself around you, but before his hands can rove any further than they already have - dipping over your hips and between your thighs - you slap his hands away. 

“Ow,” he hisses, retracting his touch. “What the fuck, babe?” 

“Hands off,” you say, shoving him gently toward the bed, turning to admire yourself in the mirror. “I’m too hot for you.” 

Benny flops down on your shared bed, eyes clearly glued to your ass. “Yeah, honey, I’ve been sayin’ that for years.” 

You roll your eyes and continue eyeing yourself. But you can’t help when your eyes trail back to him, hair wet from the shower at the gym, the band of his boxers sticking above the waist of his sweatpants. The image isn’t helped when his shirt rides up, when you have to look at the very annoyingly attractive ripple of muscle in his belly. 

You wrinkle your nose at him in the mirror, but Benny doesn’t notice as he reaches up to take off his hat and toss it onto the bed, carding his fingers through his hair. Sun reaches through the blinds, throwing shadow and light over him. 

He’s pretty, and he knows it, and it's only sometimes in an arrogant way.  

The dress had come in the mail a few days ago, something you’d gotten to wear to Frankie’s wedding. It’s dark green, patterned with flowers in the skirt, and you’d thought it looked cute when you ordered it online. 

Cute isn’t exactly the correct word for what the dress is. 

It’s hot as fuck. 

It’s hot as fuck on you.

You look sexy, you are sexy. 

The dress isn’t that short but it has a slit up the side that climbs well above mid thigh. But the part you’re most entranced by is the bust. 

The bust of the dress ties in the front, a cutout directly below your tits. It’s something you can’t wear a bra with. The bottom curve of your breasts are just visible if you tie the fabric the right way. You like the way the pull of the silk feels against your skin, the way the tie accentuates your cleavage.

You like it so much, in fact, that it makes you wet.  

You’re certain that if you were to touch yourself, you would find your fingers slick. 

It almost makes you laugh, and you think you’ve been spending too much time around Benny. 

Benny, who found himself incredibly attractive. You see the gleam in his eyes sometimes right before a match as he looks himself over in a mirror. The sight of himself turns him on. 

But you’ve never had that particular reaction to yourself. Sure, you’ve thought you’ve looked nice, hot, sexy, before. But never have you gotten horny. 

“Holy shit, babe,” Benny repeats from the bed, lifting himself up on his elbows. “You’re turned on.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say as you face him, jutting a hip out, one hand on your waist. “It’s a nice dress is all.” 

“Bullshit. That’s how you look at me when you wanna fuck,” Benny accuses. “You’re hot as shit though. I wanna fuck you in that dress, honey, its okay.” His eyes flick over you and you make a show of leaning over to pick up the heels that had come in the mail too, Benny’s eyes dropping to look down your dress. 

You fit your heels on and straighten, twirling in a circle before stopping in front of the mirror to admire your tits again. You reach up and adjust the bow between your breasts a little, trace the triangle of skin that shows beneath. “What’s it for anyways?” Benny asks, arms folded behind his head now, reclined on the pillows as he watches you. The muscle in his arms coil and twist as he settles, something in your belly knotting up as you watch. 

You flick your eyes away, smoothing your hands over your hips. 

“Frankie’s wedding,” you say, glancing at him in the mirror again to see his reaction. Ben’s large frame is sprawled over the bed, legs spread wide. You trace the blue of the vein in his arm with your eyes as he bolts upright.

“You’re wearing that to Frankie’s wedding?” 

“What?” You say innocently. “It’s a good dress for a wedding.” 

Benny is up now, and moving toward you, crossing the room in two strides and crowding you back against the mirror as you giggle. “It’s a fuck me dress is what it is,” he says, gaze trailing over your face, your collarbone, the line of your shoulder. His palms slide over the curve of your waist and then back up to your chest, hands kneading at your breasts roughly, nipples hardening beneath his touch, the slide of the silk so delicious against your skin. 

Ben pulls the fabric down just enough that you’re exposed to him without the tie coming undone, thumbs circling your bare nipples gently. 

You gasp, your breath caught in your throat, fingers gripping his thick biceps, the feel of him steady and strong against you, hips pinning you back against the mirror. 

Oh. 

Benny likes your dress too. 

And you love that he does. 

He groans, collapsing into you fully, the mirror rattling behind you. Ben is heavy against you, but you don’t mind because his hands are hot, the weight of him familiar and welcome. His nose skims down the length of your neck, the smell of his soap and cologne thick around you. “Are you wet?” He asks lowly into your shoulder, his lips leaving kisses and bites along the ridge. “Are you wet for you?”

“Yeah,” you answer, breathless as he kisses back up your neck, his lips finally finding yours, tongue sliding against yours. You laugh into him, because you can feel his erection against you, like you finding yourself hot turned him on. Or maybe it's just the dress. 

“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. “So fuckin’ hot you’re wet for yourself.”

“And are you gonna be the one to fuck this feeling out of me or not?” You ask as Benny draws his hands over the length of your waist and across your hip so he can shove aside the slit in the dress. 

He pulls back and grins at you, that wide smile that invites nothing but mischief. “Yeah. Maybe in front of everyone there.” 

“Whore,” you say affectionately, tugging at his hair with a smile. “You’re such an exhibitionist.” 

Benny’s smile just widens and he responds by tugging aside your underwear, fingers tracing the seam of your thigh and hip. “Wouldn’t be if you weren’t into it too, sweetheart. Know you like it when everyone can tell you got fucked good,” he snarks, his expression faltering when his fingers finally slide against your very wet pussy. 

“Fuck,” he sounds surprised, almost shocked. “Ah shit, honey, you weren’t fuckin’ kidding were you?” 

A tear of embarrassment sneaks up on you, punches you right in the chest. “Fuck off,” you say, venomous and suddenly angry as you try to pull away. “Like you don’t -,”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, fingers pushing aside your panties fully and slipping inside you as he pins you against the mirror. The full feeling of two of his fingers inside you shattering the breath in your lungs. “It’s hot. You’re hot. You didn’t touch yourself? At all?” 

“No,” you mumble, the embarrassment retreating a little because he sounds like he likes that. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans, leaning his head into the crook of your neck, fingers pumping into you, thumb circling your clit. “Shit, really?”

“Yeah.” 

That’s all Benny needs to hear before he’s slipping to his knees and pushing that dress aside, tugging your panties down your thighs. “Show me how you’d do it then, baby,” he says, guiding your hand to your cunt, eyes fastened to your glistening pussy. 

~

The next couple of weeks are agony. 

But its the good kind of suffering, where you’re painfully horny all the time, no matter how many times you and Benny fuck, no matter how many times he makes you come. 

And you do. 

A lot. 

You fuck a lot, you come a lot. 

In the kitchen, on the dining table, on the couch, in the shower, on your back deck even though you’re so at risk of being caught. 

Because every time Benny looks at you, he seems to remember that dress, seems to remember how wet you made yourself - how turned on you were just by the sight of yourself in that dress.

Something about it makes him want you all the more. 

And that just makes you remember how the dress made you feel, and you like the way he looks at you - hungry and needy and like you were so hot he had to have you - and suddenly you’re fucking again. 

But you don’t wear the dress, decide you won’t until the wedding. 

“I dream about your tits in that dress, woman,” Benny says to you one morning, a shit-eating grin on his face, his hands already cupping your ass, tugging you closer in bed. “Hottest fucking person alive.” 

You hate what his voice does to you, all low and graveled and sweet. It melts you - sends little pangs through your heart or your pussy or both, depending on the day. “Sing for me then, Miller,” you demand. “Tell me how pretty I am.” 

“Pretty? Babe, you’re hotter than the fucking sun.” He’s pushing up your shirt, his shirt really, an old worn band tee, rucking it up to your armpits. Benny stares at you, eyes flicking from your tits to your eyes, and back again. “What was it about that dress, sweetheart?” He lowers his mouth to you, circles his tongue around your nipple before he sucks it into the warm cavern of his mouth. 

You rake your hands through his silky hair, the dark gold locks falling through your fingers as you arch into him, a heat building inside you, between your legs, in your bones. “Dunno, just did something to me,” you laugh.

Benny is normally an energetic, erratic kind of fuck, but when he decides to take his time, it’s blissful torture. 

It’s endless hours of him eating you out, until you’re so exhausted you feel like you might pass out. And you can tell he’s in the mood for that now. 

You don’t mind though, because pussy drunk Benny is something to behold, like he’d go dizzy and cross-eyed and stupid just to taste you again. 

“Wedding is only a couple days away,” he says into your skin, breath hot against you, kisses littered down your body until he reaches the band of your panties. You lift your hips, so he can shimmy the material down your thighs. 

You tug at his hair, Ben’s tongue already slipping down the seam of you, a teasing start. Benny bites your hip gently, then says, “Couple days ‘til I see that dress again. Can’t wait to see you all fucked up for yourself, baby.” You don’t get a chance to respond, too caught up in what Benny’s doing to you. 

~ “No hats,” you say, yanking Benny’s cap off and then Frankie’s. “Absolutely not.” 

Frankie reaches for his but you hold it behind your back. “C’mon,” he begs, “just until the ceremony starts.” 

“No. You’re messing up your hair and I won’t let you get married with helmet hair.” 

Will and Santi are laughing, passing out cans of beer. 

“Ah c’mon, Fish, listen to my lady, huh? She knows what’s best,” Benny says, even as he fidgets with the tie around his own neck, listing it to one side in the process. 

“I know what won’t get your skewered at the altar,” you say, adjusting Frankie’s tie, and then turning to Benny to slap his hands away from the buttons on his collar and straighten his tie too. “Why can’t the two of you be more civilized?” 

Frankie rolls his eyes but lifts his hands in surrender before accepting a can of beer from Will. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “Fine, no hat.” 

“There’s a good man,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he glares at you. 

You take a beer for yourself from Santi and lean back into Benny when he wraps his arms around you. He presses a sweet chaste little kiss to your cheek, his lips light against your skin so he doesn’t disrupt your makeup before he whispers in your ear so low that you can barely hear him, let alone anyone else in the room - 

“Wanna fuck you so bad, honey. If I touched you right now I know you’d be soaking. So fucking hot. All fucked up for yourself. Now you know what it's like for me every time I look at you.” 

You’re too shocked to respond, Benny pulling away from you before you get the chance to formulate a response, to say something to Will. You blink after him and then shake your head, snapping open the tab of your beer. It makes you grin though, because Benny doesn’t know it but you are uncomfortably wet. 

Putting the dress on a few hours ago, well and truly feeling yourself as you did your hair and makeup, had reignited all those feelings in you again from that first day. The curve of your cleavage is flawless, your tits fill out the top perfectly, the slit in the leg showing skin that you normally never revealed. 

By the time you were ready to leave the house, your panties were already damp, the clenching of your thighs doing nothing to stop the feeling, the low roll of want deep in your belly.

God, you’ve never felt and looked so hot. 

The guys had all complimented you when you arrived, gazes a little shocked, like it was their first time seeing you. 

You can tell though - 

This feeling would not be going away until you got fucked in the dress. Either by your own hand or by Benny. 

And Benny - the way his eyes slide over you - there’s no way he wouldn’t want to participate. 

It only makes it worse, knowing Benny wants you so bad, was so fucked up at the need that ripped through you for yourself. 

The next few hours are more agony - watching Frankie get married, helping the bride afterwards between the wedding and reception, drinking, socializing, dancing. 

That’s where Benny finds you hours later, his large frame winding around yours on the dance floor. Frankie’s backyard has been turned into a dance floor and bar, fairy lights strung overhead, people bopping to music or drinking in clusters, loud laughter and pops of conversation competing against the loud press of music. 

Ben curls his arms around you so innocently, pressing a kiss to your temple - sweet to you like summer sunshine. But you can feel that he’s half hard already, and something in you just wants to make it worse for him. 

He abandoned his suit jacket long ago, tie gone, the buttons of his shirt undone halfway down his chest, though you had not let Frankie or Benny have their hats back. 

You sway to music, subtly wiggling your ass back into him. He inhales sharply when you dig your nails into his forearm, lace your fingers through the backs of his and hold his hand against your ribs. The pair of you edge to a corner of the patio. “You’re killing me, baby,” Benny says in your ear. “You have any idea how hard it is not to just fuck you right here?”

“Benny,” you say softly, turning in his arms, running your hands up his chest, dipping your fingers inside his shirt, his skin like fire against yours. You fiddle with one of the undone buttons. “Don’t be so vulgar.” 

The patio is hot, humid. The whirl of bodies next to you not really helping the heat growing between you. 

“That dress make you a tease too?” 

“Maybe,” you link your hands together behind his neck. “Don’t I look so pretty?” Benny dips his head toward you when you lean forward, eyes skating over the line of your throat, the bow that so delicately tugs your breasts together, like a pretty little present. 

He just draws you closer, nodding. His hands are hot against your back, against your sides. “Please honey, haven’t we both waited long enough?” 

“For what?” You tease, making your voice as demure as you can, like you don’t have a clue as to what he wants. “What is it you want?” 

Benny just groans, rolling his eyes at you. “Fuck. You want me to say it, don’t you?”

“Only a little bit, Miller,” you say as you and Benny drift in a slow circle, locked in your own little world. If your life depended on it you would not be able to tell someone what type of music is playing, what the people next to you are doing. 

You and Benny aren’t really being subtle, but neither of you really ever had been in the first place. Though you hope it isn’t too blatantly obvious to everyone else, to anyone who might be watching you that you’re thinking only about jumping each other’s bones. 

“I wanna get you inside, baby, so I can fuck that tight little pussy,” he follows the words whispered into your ear with a squeeze of your ass, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. 

You feel breathless and powerful and strange.

It’s all you’ve wanted for weeks but now you’re determined to draw it out. You arch into Ben, dragging your nails down his chest and then back up, lazily circling your arms around his neck. You can feel he’s grown harder, can feel his intake of breath when you adjust your closeness so one of his thighs is between your own, hidden by the swirl of your dress.

“Tell me more.” 

“More?”

“What are you going to do to me, Benny?”

He grins at you, that signature wide smile, a few pieces of hair falling forward over his rapidly darkening gaze. The pretty blue has nearly been swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

“Just what I said, sweetheart,” he teases you back. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

“When?”

“I’d do it right here, right now, if it wouldn’t ruin Fish’s wedding.” 

You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently, then harder, more insistently, and say, “It’s kinda hot out here. Wanna come in with me and cool down?”

Benny sways with you a moment longer, hands gliding down your back, over the curve of your hip, eyes flitting over you again. 

You never have to guess at Benny’s feelings, everything he feels is always written on his face. And in this moment, he wants you. He wants you bad. “Yeah,” he answers eventually, his voice graveled and low, strained just a little. 

And so you tug him after you, through Frankie’s living room which has been converted into a reception space, down a familiar hallway to the bathroom. 

By the time you reach the bathroom door, Benny is done with pretending, knocking you roughly back into the wall, fingers searing in their intensity to get to you, to rip you open and feast. 

“Ben,” you whisper, voice already hoarse, “Not here. Bathroom.” 

He just reaches behind you to wrench open the door, stumbling inside. 

The door is closed and locked and Benny wastes no time in kissing you so hard you feel like you might shatter. His hands are everywhere, burning your skin. He knits you into him, presses you hard into the solidity of his chest, teeth nipping at your lips. 

“Ow, shit,” you grumble when he pushes you into the counter. 

“Sorry, babe,” he says, grinning into you, nudging  you back further. His hands go under your thighs, tracing your skin when the slit up the side of your dress falls open. 

You work on the buttons of his shirt that aren’t already undone, twisting them open and skimming your hands down his chest, over the ridge of abs. 

“Gotta taste you first,” he says, almost to himself, tucking your hands inside his, guiding them away from his belt when you reach for it. 

Benny tugs himself back from you, runs his eyes over your body before spinning you around and pinning your back against his chest. “Want me to taste you, baby?” He asks, blown out eyes meeting yours in the mirror. 

You nod, clutching at his fingers when he presses a kiss to your cheek, his hands drifting up to squeeze your breasts, kneading roughly, pinching your nipples through the thin, silky fabric. 

Benny laughs when your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He jolts you forward, knocking your hands onto the counter before he sinks to his knees behind you. 

He jerks your dress up around your waist, presses the flat of his hand to your back so you lean forward, the picture of yourself in the mirror making another wave of arousal flood you. You look well fucked already, eyes bright and skin damp, lips swollen and wet. 

Benny runs his hand up the backs of your bare thighs, hooks his fingers into your already ruined underwear and tugs them down your legs. “Shit, baby, you’re soaked.” You feel thick knuckles brush along your folds. “You coulda just went commando. Pretty though,” he notes, your sheer, skimpy panties finding a place on the floor as Benny tosses them away. 

“Fuck off,” you say, shivering when cool air hits your pussy, Benny spreading your cunt with his fingers. You’re breathless, lungs burning, when you feel him huff a warm breath over you. “You like them.” 

“Sure do,” he confirms. “Really do. Like you the most in nothing though.” 

You almost comment on that, that Benny’s jealousy would have popped through the roof had he found you with no underwear on. 

But before you can, his tongue is delving into you, fingers slipping into you with an ease that almost embarrasses you. “Ah, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

His thumb finds your clit, massaging as he pumps his fingers into you, a second and a third digit joining the first.

Benny smacks your ass lightly, runs his hand over your hips and belly, removing his fingers from your cunt to curl both hands against your thighs, mouth dipping back into your pussy. The sounds he makes are obscene and you’re sure that anyone who happens to walk by will know exactly what’s happening in the bathroom. 

Your eyes roll up at the thought, core clenching tight around nothing as Benny’s tongue dips in and out of you, licks between the folds of you.

You’re right on the edge of an orgasm when he pulls away and stands. “Shit, baby, stay right there,” his hand goes to the back of your neck, another light smack leveled against your ass. 

You groan, scrabbling behind you, desperate to find some part of him to hang onto. 

His belt clinks, pants dropping around his ankles before he kicks them away. Benny is inside you in one hard thrust, punching the air out of your lungs. One hand sneaks around you, holds you tight against him, his palm between your breasts, his other hand tangling your fingers together. 

Benny sets a pace that has you clenching hard around him, drawing loud moans from both of you. 

“Fuck, quiet,” you both say at the same time. 

A laugh huffs out of Benny before he’s slamming into you again, his hand skating down to your belly and back up again, to your tits where he roughly yanks open the tie holding your dress closed. “Fuuuck,” he moans, both of you watching the bounce of your breasts in the mirror as he thrusts into you. “Fuck, babe. Look at you, no wonder you got yourself off just by looking huh?” 

Your eyes drift up in the mirror, to Benny’s thick shoulders, the broad planes of his chest, the way his eyes clench shut, his hold on you so sure and determined. You want to respond, say something sarcastic, but you’re too cockdumb to try. 

He pulls you up, his chest to your back, one hand pinching and pulling at your breasts, but when your orgasm approaches again Benny pulls back and you can’t help the loud moan of frustration that escapes you. 

Benny jerks you around, his mouth crashing against yours, tongue slipping between your lips, licking against your teeth. You taste yourself on his mouth and chin as you reach up to cradle his jaw, the musk of you on his tongue is heavenly. 

He helps you up onto the counter and fits himself between your legs, slowly pushing himself back into you. Ben spreads one hand over the base of your spine, encouraging you back as he lowers his mouth to your throat, your chest, teeth digging into the fleshy parts of you, his mouth soft but insistent. 

You wrap your legs around his hips to draw him closer, rake your hands through his hair and tug hard until he goans against you, the sound echoing through you. 

You drag your fingers down his chest and over the hard muscle of his belly, nails digging into the flesh until he makes that noise again - like the pain of you drew pleasure into him. 

When he yanks down the strap of your dress to kiss your shoulder, you remind him, “Careful Benny. I don’t have any other clothes.”

Benny just looks like he’s more inclined to rip the dress, to tear it to shreds. “Think we both look ruined enough, babe. Everyone’s gonna know.” 

“Doesn’t mean everyone needs to see me naked,” you whisper, yanking on his hair again until Benny hisses and pulls back to glance down between your bodies at your swollen pussy, his soaked cock. He slides slowly out of you and then back in. His thumb presses to your clit, tracing circles into the swollen bud. He leans into the hand you still have fisted in his hair. “You want everyone to see your girl naked?” you prompt, since he seems distracted by your pussy swallowing him. 

You’re distracted by it too, the heavy, warm drag of him. You moan and try to squeeze your thighs closed, head tipping back against the mirror. 

Benny just fits himself tight against you again, one hand against the back of your neck as he kisses down your throat, “As long as they look and don’t fuckin’ touch.”  

He punctuates his statement by thrusting into you hard, almost claiming in its brutality, his hips stuttering. Like he’s physically dismissing the thought of random people getting their hands on you. He moans into you as he fucks you, mouth hot against yours, “Can I come in you baby?”

“Gonna clean it up, Benjamin?” You breathe against his lips, the mirror cool against your back, Benny’s fingers making you shiver when he traces them down your spine. 

“You know I’m good for it.”

You laugh and feel his breath against you, the hot press of his body against yours. Benny’s hips slow, and he moans loud when you pull his hair again, the heat swimming around in your belly finally lurching forward, your cunt clenching hard around him, at the sound, at the way his fingers slip against your ruined body. 

“Fuck,” he nips into you, teeth digging into your bottom lip. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

You lurch forward and grip Benny’s face and jerk him down, pressing your mouth to his hard as the band in your belly snaps and your orgasm crashes through you in a fierce wave. He groans against you, your hips grinding along with his, his pelvis flush against yours when he comes inside you. 

For a moment, all you can do is tremble in his grasp. The only thing that’s keeping you from falling into the mirror behind you is Benny’s strong arms around you, his broad hands soothing up and down your spine. You keep kissing him until you can’t breath, tucking him close to you instead, face nuzzled against his hair, knees hitched around his hips. 

The wild heat that has been burning in both of you for weeks is suddenly sated, blown down to a low simmer. 

It feels good, blissful, to finally get fucked in the dress that fucked you up so much. 

“Benny,” you say, tapping his shoulder gently with the flat of your palm, his head buried in the space between your shoulder and neck. “Ben.”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, tilting his chin against your shoulder. “God, fuck.” 

He pulls back slowly, hands drifting down your sides to your hips and thighs, eyes glued to the mess of him seeping out of you. “Benny?”

He shakes his head and runs a finger through your messy pussy. “We should go to more weddings,” he declares softly, absorbed in what he did to you. You jerk when his finger brushes a sensitive part of you and you have to resist the urge to swat him away from you. 

In truth, you’d be happy to sit on that counter with him looking at you like that for days. 

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes widening. “Fuck, Benny, how loud were we?” 

He shrugs, slowly going to his knees, still preoccupied with you - absent to everything but what currently held his attention. 

Benny pulls  your legs apart to watch his come slide down your thigh, licking his lips. “Who fuckin’ cares?” he answers before lurching forward, face suddenly buried in you again, tongue circling your entrance, nose brushing your clit. 

Your eyes roll back, Benny licking into you with an intensity that stings, that makes you groan and shake. And you can only grip his hair, hang onto his shoulders, until he’s satisfied you’re clean, that he’s missed nothing, mouth dragging down your thigh to your knee before he pulls away. 

“We taste good together,” he tells you nonchalantly, grinning wide and boyish at you. You roll your eyes but your stomach is in wanting knots again. 

You carefully stand, sliding off the counter, legs shaky beneath you. Benny stands too, supporting you carefully. “Where’s my underwear?” You ask, straightening the skirt of your dress, making sure nothing unsavory has gotten on it. 

Benny hands them to you, before buttoning up his shirt half heartedly, yanking up his pants next, like he’d prefer to stay naked in the bathroom with you. 

You tie the bust closed again, adjusting the shoulder straps and the bow between your breasts in the reflection of the mirror before you start to slip your panties up your legs. Ben’s hand suddenly wraps around yours, stopping your movement. “Leave ‘em off,” his voice holds the quaver of a request. 

“Why?”

He just smirks at you, taking your hesitation for acquiescence and plucks the lace from your hand to tuck into his pocket. Benny slots his fingers between yours, smiling sweetly like he isn’t plotting something. “Just have a feeling we’ll be here again. Before the night is out.”

But you know Benny. You know he’s going to have his hand up your skirt while you sit together at one of the reception tables. He’s going to torture you and you want nothing else, nothing more than to be the thing he tortured. 

The simmer in your belly starts to smolder again. And when you catch a glimpse of you and Benny in the mirror together - you can’t help but lean up to kiss him again, fingers against his chest. 

Benny folds his hand over yours, holds your hand against his chest.

You kiss him, and think maybe you agree with him. “We do taste good together,” you tell him. 

Benny’s eyes go wide and shocked, and then he’s grinning and kissing you and pushing you back into the counter again.

#ben miller x reader #ben miller x you #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #ben miller #benny miller #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x reader smut

[buckysred]

Pancakes and Nightmares

Ben “Benny” Miller x Reader

Summary: Benny wakes you up in the middle of the night for an unknown reason. He wont fess up to what's wrong but you know just the thing to get him talking.

Warnings: Lotta fluff, lotta angst, talks of PTSD related nightmares, cursing, two dorks in love, kinda cringey confession from reader, slight ooc ben miller

Word Count: 1538

A/N: I’m actually kinda nervous to post this one... I low-key don't like it but we’ll see if I end up keeping it or taking it down. I don't delve into Ben’s PTSD (or the content of his nightmares) as to the fact that I know next to nothing about it and I don't want to misrepresent anything. I hope someone enjoys this in this dead fandom lol <3

One minute you were dreaming peacefully, and the next, you were being rudely awoken.

A calloused hand was on your side, rocking you awake. “Babe… you awake?”

You groaned, hating getting woken up at any time of the day, but when you peeked your eyes open to see it was still dark out, your mood soured further.

You rolled over onto your other side to see your boyfriend, Benny. His blonde hair was unkempt like he’d been tugging relentlessly at the strands, and visible exhaustion marred his features.

You sat up at the look of him, your own mood forgotten.

“Hey, you alright?” You whispered, trying not to break the peaceful silence the darkness created between you.

Benny’s head shook in a nod before he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. “Missed you.”

Even with worry clouding your brain, a light laugh rippled through your throat. “We’ve been together all weekend. There’s no way you’re missing me right now as I literally lay next to you.”

“Well then, I’m a fucking anomaly because I did.” Benny nuzzled his face closer to your neck in emphasis.

You reached up to thread your hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You gonna tell me what’s going on,” You paused to look over at the digital clock. “And why we’re currently awake at 3 a.m?”

“Like I said, I was missin’ you.”

Your eyebrows pulled together tight like you were trying to fit together all the puzzle pieces of Bennys actions and thoughts. Then you had an idea. You knew of one definite way to loosen Ben Miller’s lips.

You moved your hand from Bennys hair to his shoulder, squeezing faintly, getting his attention. “You hungry? I’m starving.”

Ben pulled away from your neck to look you in your eyes, though some locks of hair lay across his forehead, blocking his vision. He smiled gently, but even despite the softness, it was still all him. All roguish adventure and uncontained energy.

“Is that even a question you need answered? I’m always fuckin’ hungry, honey.”

You gently pushed the hair out of his face and smoothed a kiss over his forehead. “I think we may have some pancake mix up in the cabinet.”

That gentle smile turned into a full-blown wolfish grin. “Then why are we sitting here talking about it and not cooking already?”

You both flung the warm covers off your joined bodies. As soon as your skin met the cool air, goose flesh started rising on your body. You turned to the closet, but Benny was already there, plucking a hoodie off the hanger. Your favorite one of his. It was navy blue and smelled like pure comfort.

You took it gratefully from his outstretched hand and slung it on. The hood caught against your head as you pulled it over and made your hair an even crazier mess than it was from sleep.

Benny chuckled at the picture you made. His favorite person had sleep-dowsed eyes, pouty lips at the cold air that still crept onto your exposed fingers, and a disarrayed head of hair.

His big palm came down and smoothed the hoodie from your head. Benny goofily fixed your hair, taming it down as best he could, then swiftly pulled the hood back up to cover your ears from the chill. His fingers made their way down to yours and cupped them up to his mouth, blowing heated air into them. You smiled at him with all the love and affection you could infuse into the upturn of your lips.

When Benny felt your hands turn toasty warm, he dropped them from his lips but didn’t let his fingers drift from yours. “Ready for some cakes?”

You nodded eagerly and let him lead you into the kitchen.

The room you both entered was a sad excuse of a kitchen. Benny and yourself could barely fit into it together with how cramped it was. Nevertheless, home was home, and this little kitchen was a part of it.

You hopped up on the counter as Benny started to pull all the ingredients down off the high selves. You speculated that he purposefully put the items you used consistently up high so he could get them down for you. Sooo dramatic.

Once he accumulated everything you needed, you hopped off the counter, grabbed a bowl, and started mixing the ingredients together.

Benny watched you from the sidelines. He was leaning back against the counter, his hands crossed over his chest with his fingers patting a rhythm against his biceps.

Standing around doing nothing wasn’t Benny’s strong suit, but the last time he even breathed near something you were cooking up, it nearly exploded. Considering both his mom and brother were near professional chefs in your mind, you dubbed him as the cooking curse of the Miller clan.

You found the name hilarious and witty, but enough pouting on Benny’s end about you favoring his brother’s cooking more than his had you revoking the title. Even though the meaning still stood, Benjamin Miller could not cook or bake.

It wasn’t long before you were done mixing everything and were prepping a pan to be heated up. As you started to pour the batter onto the pan, attempting to get a perfect circle, Ben came behind you and put his hands on your waist. His nose dipped down to your neck, lightly tracing a path up to your ear. His fingers stroked your sides as his mouth planted a kiss against the shell of it. You shivered lightly at the feeling and pushed your body back into his toned one.

“Don’t start anything, Miller,” You warned him. “There’s a hot stove blazing, so if you do something scandalous this close to the food, your curse might hold up, and the whole place might go up in flames.”

Benny’s ministrations paused at your words, but it only lasted a second before hyena laughter was filling the air. “Awe, sweetheart, c’mon. You gotta gimme more credit than that.”

Your mouth pulled up in an effortless grin. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

His answer was a kiss on the side of your neck.

After another 10 minutes, you finished cooking all the pancakes. You both had situated yourselves on the kitchen floor with plates, eagerly munching on the sweet breakfast food.

Benny had his loaded up with enough syrup to fill your bathtub, while you liked yours with more butter than syrup. You let Ben eat in peace for a while before breaching the topic from earlier.

You lightly reached your foot out to tap against his. “So, you wanna tell me what was going on with you earlier?”

Benny had one fork full of pancake heading to his mouth before he stopped it halfway. You’re pretty sure if this was a television show, the word CAUGHT would appear in bright red across his forehead. He looked down at his plate in resentment like he knew the sweetness of the syrup was too rich not to pull his darkest secrets from him.

Benny sat down his fork and looked away from you, his face uncharacteristically bashful. “Nightmare,” was his one-word response. But it was all you needed to understand.

You sat your plate on the floor and crawled forward until you were practically nose to nose with him. His eyes were still downcast, but that just wasn’t going to work for you.

You put both palms against his cheeks and nudged both of your thumbs under his jaw, pushing up slightly so he’d remeet your eyes.

“Hey there,” You whispered.

Benny forced a smile that you knew was too tame to be genuine. It broke you thinking he might feel the need to hide behind a facade around you. To keep his struggles at bay when all you’ve ever wanted was for him to let you help whenever he needs it.

You brushed your fingers against his cheeks, trying to soothe away the mask. “You know if you wanted or needed to talk to me about what goes on in your head, I’m always here. Always. But don’t go hidin’ away from me because of the nightmares,” You gave a pause to let the words sink into him like ink on paper.

But uncertainty still broadcasted across his face, so you continued, “All I ever see from you is my best friend and lover. You’re stronger than nails and can overcome anything life throws because that’s who you are. Nightmares, no nightmares, whatever is not gonna scare me away.”

Your words rang true, and you could see the appreciation in Benny’s eyes. Being the youngest out of his friends, he plays the happy golden retriever most of the time, but some nights where his demons chase him, that carefree Ben gets trampled.

Benny reached down and kissed you hard. It was rough and passionate and exactly what you knew he needed. To feel you there with him. To know that you weren’t going anywhere despite his struggles.

You pulled back for a breath, pressed your forehead to his, and mumbled, “You got me, Miller, now you’ve gotta deal with the consequences of always having to keep me.”

#benny miller x reader #benny miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #garret hedlund #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x you #buckysred

[mermaidxatxheart]

I Got Away With You

A/N: I have a huge small obsession with Garrett Hedlund at the moment. I have a few stories in the works, I started 5 in a week. Someone help me. I don't give permission for my works to be posted anywhere else. I already post on a few other sites, the links are in my bio if you're interested.

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: PTSD, abuse, trauma, triggering, p in v, cockwarming, nothing sexual, this is strictly a comfort fic. Benny is so fucking soft, please help.

Banner is made by me. A massive thank you to @leannawithacapitala @musings-of-a-rose for fueling my thirst for this man.

Triple Frontier Master List

Benny Miller’s girl is tough. You’ve had a complete shitshow for a life: abusive asshole parents and a psychotic brother who’s tried to kill you several times. And it’s made you rough. Some have called you cold. But he knows better. And by god, he’s fucking crazy about you. His girl. He’s got the ring in a lock box, just waiting for the right moment. 

You don’t ask for anything. Ever. Even when you desperately need help. And he’s not just talking about opening the pickle jar, because sometimes he goes to you for that. (You always have the magic touch.) But, you don’t ask to be comforted, held, or cared for. And for that reason alone Benny is so soft for you. 

Some days, you’ll crawl into his lap. No words, just sit there for a while as he reads or watches the game. He never minds. He’ll hold you until the world ends if that’s what you need. Other days, and these are his absolute favorite, you’ll sit on his lap with him inside you. No moving, it’s not sexual, just skin-to-skin contact to remind yourself that he’s real, that you found a good one as you put it. 

It took you forever to be able to explain that to him, to even ask him for it was almost impossible for you. Even now you still mumble your way through asking if you can sit on him. It’s still so difficult for you to not feel like a burden to someone. 

It’s late in the afternoon. You should have been home from work by now, but he’s not especially worried. If you’ve had a rough day, you like to go for a drive to clear your head. You try to hide from him how bad your moods can get some days. He knows, but it doesn’t make him love you any less. You’ve been through hell, you deserve to have bad days and let things get to you. You’re only human, and feeling that way is so completely valid. You never tell him to get over his bad days, and he’ll never do that to you. 

He’s playing Call of Duty with his brother, Will. Will is at his own house, headset on so they can coordinate moves. Sometimes they like to play on opposite teams, sometimes on the same team. 

“Your girl home yet?” Will asks. 

“Not yet. Why? Hoping I’ll get distracted?” Benny replies with a grin. 

“Maybe. Never thought I’d say this, but you’re too focused.” He laughs. 

“There’s a first.” Benny agrees. He hears the front door open and his heart beats irregularly for just a second. “You might get your wish.” 

“About time,” Will says. He absolutely adores you. You’re like the sibling he never had, which he constantly says in front of Benny all the time. 

“Tell me about it.” Benny glances at the bedroom door for just a second before flicking his eyes back to the tv. He’s sitting in his gaming chair so that he doesn’t mess up your neatly made bed. It tends to make you panic when it’s messed up. 

He expects you to come right into the room to change. It’s usually the first thing you do. Take the bra and dress pants off in exchange for sweatpants and one of his shirts. But you don’t appear in the doorway. A flicker of apprehension licks at his nerves. You love your routine. Maybe you brought food home. 

“Baby?” He calls. There’s no answer, no sound of footsteps coming toward him. “Gimme a second, bro. Pause.” He says, pausing the game. He pulls off his headset and pushes himself up, leaving the bedroom to go find you. 

Sometimes, you come home so exhausted and just drape yourself over the arm of the couch. He’ll find you with your ass sticking up, face buried in the cushion, already half asleep. 

Not today, though. You’re not in the living room. Or in the kitchen. 

“Babe?” He calls, doubt appearing. Did he hear you? He goes to the front door and checks the driveway. Your car is here. 

His brain switches from casual inquisitor to search mode. He starts at the front door where he is and searches methodically, opening every door. He’s trained to clear every room for potential threats, but it’s also handy when his girlfriend likes to hide her stress. 

He finds you in the laundry room cabinet, wedged underneath the supplies of trash bags, soaps, and other nonsense you like to store in there. He pulls the door open, his eyes immediately falling to you, knees uncomfortably tight against your chest, arms impossibly between them. 

“When was the last time this helped you?” He asks softly, kneeling down next to you. Your eyes fill with unshed tears and you twist your head away, staring into the back of the dark closet. “Sweetheart.” He reaches for your hand and you close your fist around his fingers. “Wanna talk about what happened?” He asks. 

You shake your head, lips pressed together. 

These are the hardest days for him. The days when you so clearly need something but can’t or won’t ask for it. He will do anything for you, all you have to do is point him in the right direction. But guessing? He’s shit at that. 

“Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?” He asks, studying you for your reactions. There’s a small moment where your chest stutters, a double breath, and you nod. “We can go cuddle?” He offers, scooting back to give you space to wriggle out. Again you nod. “Okay. Come on, baby.” 

You struggle for a minute before looking at him pathetically. “Help?” 

Christ, he would rip apart this entire laundry room. He carefully pries your legs out, sliding you forward before pulling you to your feet. You won’t look at him, eyes downcast. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready? I’ll be right up.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You leave the laundry room and he heads for the kitchen, making your hot chocolate just the way you like it. It probably won’t get finished. But at least you’ll have it if you want it. 

He carries it to the bedroom to find you laying on the bed, naked, with his headset on, the lube on the nightstand. So, you need that kind of cuddling. 

“Sorry again for interrupting, Will.” You say quietly as Benny sets the mug down. Will, undoubtedly, has zero problems with Benny pausing the game for you. “No, you guys can keep playing. It won’t bother me.” You say, rolling over to look at Benny. 

He pulls off his shirt, laying it on the end of the bed. You might want it later when you get cold. He shucks off his sweats, dropping them in the laundry basket at the bottom of the closet. He pulls off his hat, running a hand through his messy hair. It’s too long, but the feeling of your fingers tangled in it is too good to get rid of. You shake your head, pointing at his hat. He places it back on his head, brim backward so it’s out of your way. He shoos you over, settling in the center of the bed, legs stretched out, fluffing the pillows and stacking them behind his back. He grabs the lube, squeezing a little into his palm and stroking his already half-hard cock. It’s an immediate reaction to seeing you naked that his brain and body will just never get over. 

He glances at you, and Will must have said something because your eyes fill again. “I-I know. Love you, too.” You warble, your voice breaking as you try not to let the tears overcome you. Benny guides you close, spreading the rest of the lube between your legs, wanting to make this as painless for you. It’s already a stretch when he has you good and ready. He uses the back of his index to turn your head, pressing the mute button on the headset. 

“Baby, I’m here whenever you’re ready to tell me, okay? There’s no rush to talk, and we can sit like this as long as you want to.” He says softly and you lower your eyes again. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You whisper, voice cracking and you bite your lip. 

He wants to joke that it was probably something terrible, and that’s what he would do on a good day. On a day when you can laugh and swat his arm for being dumb. But today, you don’t need jokes. You don’t need your parents’ words that you’re a terrible person, a failure, a mistake, thrown in your face. You need to be reminded how perfect he thinks you are. 

“I’m not sure, but I must have done something pretty damn amazing to deserve you.” He says, guiding your hips up and over his. He holds his cock steady for you, letting you lower yourself at your own pace. His crown pushes past your entrance, tracing along your soft-as-silk walls. He clenches his jaw, reminding himself that this is for you, not pleasure. It’s fairly easy since you’re almost crying, and that kind of flattens the romantic mood. He’s not complaining, though. 

You pause halfway down, taking a breath, squeezing his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” You whimper and his whole heart breaks for you. His girl, so tough and rough. Today must have been murder for you to have you so upset. 

“You never have to apologize to me. Do you need my thumb? Do you want me to push?” He offers and you nod. He slips his thumb into your curls, slowly rubbing it around your clit as his other hand guides your hips down slowly. “My good girl.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. “My perfect, sweet girl. I love sitting with you like this.” He praises, feeling your walls contract and roll as you sink down to his base. “All in, sweetheart.” He tells you. 

“Will is asking where you are.” You mumble. 

He unmutes it and grabs a tissue, cleaning his hands off. “I’m here, man. Gimme a minute.” He says, taking the headset off your pretty head. 

“Did I make her cry?” He asks. 

“Shouldn’t be a goal.” Benny huffs. You lean forward, your chest pressing against his as you rest your head against his shoulder. You’re tucking into his shape, contouring yourself against him, arms wrapping around his chest. He presses a kiss against your temple, letting his mouth stay there for a minute. The smell of you overwhelms his senses and he closes his eyes. 

You shift your hips slightly, trying to get comfortable. He spreads his thighs to support you, grabbing the controller and encasing you in the safety of his arms. 

“Alright, man. Let’s go.” He says, starting the game again. He turns down the volume so that it won’t bother you when you finally fall asleep and something explodes. 

“I wasn’t trying to make her cry,” Will says after a minute. “I just told her that we all love her. Tom thinks of her as a second daughter, shit, even Santi adores her. She doesn’t have to be alone with whatever is going on.” He finishes quietly. 

“Thanks. I think she needed to hear it.” Benny says, glancing down at you. You’re not asleep, but you’re not listening to him, either. 

“No problem.” Will sighs. “You gonna ask her soon?” 

“I’m thinking about it. I don’t want her to feel pressured. Especially if she’s feeling like this. I can wait until she’s in a better headspace.” He nuzzles into your hair, keeping his eyes on the tv. His avatar is prowling around a building, searching for his brother. 

“She asleep?”

“Not yet.” They’re both quiet for a minute as the game progresses slowly. 

“Benny?” You whisper. Your breath tickles across his neck and chest. 

“Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate, shaking your head after a second. “Never mind. Sorry.”

“You sure?” He rubs your back slowly for a second while there’s a lull in the game. 

“Yeah. It’s okay.” You sniff quietly. You settle back down, not saying anything else. 

The absence of the game sounds is deafening in the room. He starts to hum quietly, not caring that his brother can hear everything. It’s his favorite song since he met you, reminding him of just how lucky he is that you’re here with him, never mind all the bullshit that life has put you through. 

Well, I got caught in Panama City

Tryin' to buy some beer for some Georgia girls

And I got wore out by my daddy

For stealin' cigarettes from the Smokes and more

And all my friends would get away

Seems I'd get caught, plain as day

I took the blame for every little thing

You hiccup and squeeze around him. He takes a steadying breath before continuing. 

But I got away with you

And somehow l still ain't been found out

It's a crazy truth

Like l strolled out the gates of Alcatraz

And l walked in the Louvre

And the Mona Lisa's hanging in my house

I bust out of Buckingham with the crown jewels

And l got away with you. 

You wrap your arms up around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. He’s never letting you go. 

Well lookin' like you do

On its damn own, should be a crime

Let alone a fool like me

Hand in hand with you, should be doin' time

But here we are runnin' free

Guess someone turned the other cheek

'Cause there ain't no blue lights in the rear view

Will, to his credit, doesn’t interrupt him. He just lets him sing to his girl. 

Guess I got away with you

And somehow l still ain't been found out

It's a crazy truth

Like l strolled out the gates of Alcatraz

And l walked in the Louvre

Now the Mona Lisa's hanging in my house

I bust out of Buckingham with the crown jewels

And l got away with you

I'll take it all, the fails, the falls

The county jails and one phone calls

I'd do it all again if I had to

'Cause I got away with you

Somehow girl, I still ain't been found out

It's a crazy truth

Like l strolled out the gates of Alcatraz

And l walked in the Louvre

Now the Mona Lisa's hanging in my house

I bust out of Buckingham with the crown jewels

And l got away with you

When l got away with you

Yeah, I got away with you. 

“Hey, save the game, little brother. We’ll play some other time.” Will says. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. She needs you.” 

Benny saves the game. “Say goodbye to Will, baby.” He says, brushing your hair down your back. 

“Bye, Will baby.” You mumble and Will chuckles. Benny signs off and pulls off the headset, tossing it over onto his gaming chair. 

“I’m gonna shift a bit, Princess, okay?” He says, only moving once you nod. He pushes himself up, gritting his teeth against the sweet feel of you gripping him. He slides down the bed more so that when he lays back, he’ll be laying down. He adjusts the pillows, trying not to jostle you too much. “Do you still wanna be on top?” He asks and you nod. 

“Just like this.”

“Okay. You alright to lay down?” 

“Yeah.” 

He eases himself down, cradling you against his chest. You completely melt against him, shifting down, taking him deeper inside you, but also so you can rest your head on his chest. 

He closes his eyes, humming softly for you, knowing that his voice helps calm you. His hands stroke up and down your back, tracing lines along your spine, memorizing the shape of you in his arms. 

“Brian.” You mumble and he freezes for a second and then remembers that Brian is the name of a frat boy that you work with. 

“Want me to get rid of him?” He offers. 

“I was fine all day.” You whisper. “All day. It was good. Nothing bad happened, we had good numbers. And then Brian.” You take a breath and he can feel it shudder through you. “He caught his girlfriend sleeping with his brother, his sister, and his dad. And he storm-stormed into the office on his phone. End of the d-day. Just screaming at her. T-told her,” you cut off, twisting your face into his chest. 

He cradles the back of your head, his heart hammering behind his sternum. He can imagine what that kind of rage might make someone say. And Brian looks just enough like your brother to have you avoiding him at all costs. 

“He told her that he was going to find her, make her suffer by t-taking away everything she loves, and th-then no one would ever find her.” Your voice is broken, barely audible and he can feel you shaking. 

“Jesus.” Benny turns into your hair, pressing reassuring kisses everywhere that he can reach. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, tracing it for comfort just as much for him as it is for you. 

“If John ever-“

“He won’t, baby. I can take care of myself, and I’ll always take care of you. Your brother isn’t coming anywhere near us ever again.”

“I can’t lose y-you.” 

He hugs you tight against him, rocking you gently from side to side. “I’m not going anywhere. My whole world is right here.” He promises. He doesn’t give a shit about Brian. Brian’s going through it and deserves his anger. But he might have to have a word about screaming about it in the office. 

“I’m sorry I tried to hide. Please don’t be mad.” You plead. 

Benny shushes you, cupping your face and lifting it so he can see you. “Never.” He kisses your forehead, tucking you back against his chest. “And you don’t need to apologize. It’s been a while since you’ve had such a bad day.”

“I felt like I was exploding. I needed,”

“Containment. I understand, sweet girl.” He brushes your hair back. “Try to sleep, okay? I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He promises. 

You nod quietly, reaching up to feel his hair in your fingers. “Whatever I did to deserve you must have been damn amazing.” You mumble, snuggling deeper into the cage of his arms. He smiles against the crown of your hair, thinking it’s just not possible to love you any harder than he does right now.

Everything Tag List

@everythingisoverrated @psyched2b @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @elliee1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @scarlettwitcher @thirstybitchqueen @stuckonjbbarnes @barnesandco @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen @lokisironthrone @imanuglywombat @also-fangirlinsweden @ravenesque @murdermornings @countryrockmama @starbuckie @kato-ptris @mandos-crest @katzenwahnsinn

#mermaidxatxheart-writes #reader insert #mermaidxatxheart #fanfic #romance #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x reader #benny x reader #triple frontier #may be triggering #triple frontier au #triple frontier fic #trigger warning #potentially triggering #benny miller #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x you #benny miller x female reader

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hi! Congrats on reaching 5k followers!

Could I request a blurb where Benny Miller find out that the reader has a crush on him by accidentally finding a love letter they wrote?

Drunk Poetry.

benny miller x female reader

warnings - cursing. alcohol mention.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“That’s the third time you’ve tried to kill me this week.”

You’re both laughing so hard you’re wheezing, clutching at your sides as happy tears drip down your faces.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. “I don’t do it on purpose, I swear.”

Benny wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, holding you close as you rest your head on his chest. Both of you calm down, enjoying being plastered together for the moment.

Friends don’t do this stuff.

You know this.

But when it feels so right, so easy, so natural… who are you to put a stop to it?

Aggression seems to be his love language. It’s how you ended up where you were five minutes ago - you, nursing a blooming bruise on your thigh where Benny had accidentally punched it much too hard seconds earlier. Will says it’s how he shows people he likes them. He’s boisterous, a little clumsy, but so loving.

You’d been play fighting, beating each other up as per usual. The two of you were instantly bored watching a movie Frankie recommended, instead choosing to make your own entertainment.

“We need booze,” he says now, into your hair. “Just a little. Then we can dance.”

You chuckle, nodding into his shirt.

“There’s a bottle of tequila under my bed. Don’t ask.”

He laughs, and the sound rumbles through you lowly. Placing you on the couch gently, he gets up to go and find the alcohol while you stand up and grab some glasses. After a couple of minutes, you return to the living room to see him stood in the doorway, holding a pink piece of paper.

“You’re in love with me.”

Your heart drops out of your chest when you realise what he has in his hand.

“Ben, I can explain.”

His jaw is dropped, eyes wide as he looks at you. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, and it’s making you anxious.

“I, uh - I read somewhere a while ago that if you write stuff down, you can get it out of your mind. And you… you were on my mind a lot, I guess. So I started writing these letters - obviously I was never gonna send them or anything - to get stuff off my chest. You were never meant to see them, Ben. I’m sorry.”

“You’re… sorry?”

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry.”

“For the letters? Or loving me?”

You take a deep breath, holding onto the doorframe.

“Neither, actually. Yeah, neither. I’m not sorry for the letters - I’m kind of sorry that you found them, though. But I’m not sorry for loving you. Never have been.”

He strides across the room, wrapping his arms around your back as he kisses you with so much passion it almost knocks you over. You kiss him back eagerly, hands tangled in his hair as you pull him closer.

“I love you too,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Yeah?” you grin, raking your nails across the back of his neck. “You do?”

“The guys have been on my back about it for like a year.”

“A year? Sucker,” you tease, leaning in to kiss him again.

He breaks away to laugh, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks towards your bedroom.

“Let’s find that fucking tequila and get this party started, huh?”

You can’t say no to an offer like that.

#murphy’s 5k celebration #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fluff #benny miller x reader smut #benny miller smut #benny miller x reader #benny miller imagine #benny miller x you #triple frontier x oc #benny miller x reader fluff #triple frontier x reader smut #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

[flightlessangelwings]

Kinktober Day 9- Double Penetration

Frankie Morales x fem!reader x Benny Miller (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 1.5k

Warnings- smut (18+ only), thruple relationship, unprotected sex, feelings

Notes- This is set in the Messy Pile of Affection universe, but can be read on its own. I’ve actually wanted to write dp with this thruple for a while now so this is the perfect opportunity to do so! I’ve missed them so much, and I really wanna go back and write more drabbles with them! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​​. Reblogs highly appreciated!

~

“Are you sure about this baby?” Frankie and Benny’s voices overlapped each other.

“I’m sure… Please…”

Your breath came out in short, erratic bursts as you straddled Frankie, his cock buried deep inside you. Benny watched you bounce on his cock from behind while he stroked himself until you had a new proposition in mind. Both men were stunned to stillness when you stopped and asked something new of them.

“Please,” you repeated as you turned over your shoulder and looked at Benny, “I want you both inside me at the same time.”

Frankie and Benny shared a look before Frankie caressed your hips, “Alright,” he whispered and waited until you turned back toward him to continue, “But if it gets too much, you say the word and we’ll stop. Don’t wanna hurt you, baby.”

A bright smile lit up your face as you leaned forward and kissed Frankie hard, “Deal.”

You pushed yourself up and turned toward Benny again so you could place a similar kiss on his lips.

“You sure you can handle us both, baby?” Benny asked with a smirk.

Frankie rolled his eyes but you thought it was cute, “Oh I know I can,” you replied in a low purr that made both your boys swallow hard.

As Frankie caressed your hips, you lifted yourself up so that only the tip of his cock stayed inside you. He let out a low moan as the feeling of your muscles straining around the tip as you kept yourself hovered over him. His hands trailed up your sides to cup your breasts and pinch your nipples while Benny settled himself behind you.

“Alright, here I come, babies,” Benny’s voice was low, and even through his humor you heard the lust in his tone. You knew both your boys wanted this just as badly as you did. 

Slowly, Benny nudged his cock against your entrance, and he hissed when his length rubbed against Frankie’s. He was more precise than he usually was as he was careful not to hurt you. But, Benny also couldn’t deny that feeling both of his lovers this close at the same time was exhilarating. 

Suddenly, Benny remembered something, “Hang on,” he rustled behind you and both you and Frankie let out low whines at the loss. You turned your gaze to Frankie, who laid still underneath you and your heart skipped a beat when you looked into his big, soft brown eyes.

“Back,” Benny exclaimed behind you as he settled back into place. You were about to ask what he did when you heard the pop of the lube bottle.

Frankie let out a low hiss when he felt the cool lube spill onto his cock. You watched his every little expression as you leaned forward slightly and prepared yourself for what was to come. Benny generously coated his dick in the lube, and made sure to spill some onto Frankie’s as well. Slick sounds echoed in the room as he rubbed his length a few times.

Benny reached out with his lube coated hand and wrapped it around the base of Frankie’s cock. He groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head, the combination of your warmth around the head and Benny’s hand stocking the base was almost overwhelming in the best way.

“There,” Benny cooed, “Now we’re ready.”

You chuckled softly, “I’m ready, boys.”

Frankie cleared his throat as he regained control of his head, “Ready,” he grunted.

You felt two pairs of strong hands holding your body, Frankie’s on your breasts and Benny’s on your hips. The two men caressed your body as they moved slowly and precisely, as if they were back on the field and every moment mattered. To them, this was even more important than fighting for their lives, this was your life, your body. You meant so much to Benny and Frankie, and they wanted this moment to be everything you wanted it to be.

Slowly, Benny guided his cock to your pussy once more, and all three of you gasped when you all made contact with each other. Benny’s cock rubbed against Frankies as both of their tips nudged at your entrance. Your mouth dropped open as you let out a loud cry when the second cock finally pushed past your first ring of muscle.

The stretch was unlike anything you had felt before in your life. It burned and brought tears to your eyes, but it also felt wonderful. To be filled by both of your boys was a euphoria that compared to nothing else. Both Benny and Frankie tightened their grip on you as you inched your way down onto both of their cocks bit by bit.

“Oh fuuuuck,” Frankie hissed as he felt the combination of your warmth and Benny’s length.

Benny groaned your names while his cock pulsed with need, and it took every fiber of his being to hold himself back in that moment. You moaned and cried out as you felt yourself stretched to the limit, and you mind swam in the pleasure and the slight pain it brought.

After what felt like hours, you finally seated yourself on Frankie’s hips once again, your pussy filled to the brim from both him and Benny. You breathed heavily as you rested your hands on Frankie’s chest while the two men ran their hands all over your body. You weren’t sure whose hands were where as you felt your breasts and ass squeezed at the same time while one of them rubbed at your clit.

“Oh fuck, holy shit,” you wispered as you adjusted to the feeling.

“You alright, baby?” you weren’t sure whose voice it was, perhaps it was both of them.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, “Now fuck me, boys.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The two men worked in perfect harmony as he carefully reeled back just enough so they were halfway out of you before they thrust back in at the same time. You screamed in pleasure as they got more bold with their thrusts as you surrendered yourself to your lovers. They pulled back once again and pushed back in, and again you cried out in pure bliss.

Confident that you weren’t hurt, Frankie and Benny got bolder with their movements and began to thrust in and out of you in a faster rhythm. The two moved in perfect harmony as they filled you together over and over again. The feeling of all three of you together was beyond compare, and no words could describe that emotion that you all felt. Much like your first night together, the three of you just fell into place perfectly without much effort needed.

As they fucked you faster and harder, your skin tingled and heated up with the build of your climax. The hands that caressed and pleasured your body only added to the feelings, and when they filled you once more, you screamed out loudly.

“Fuck… Frankie… Benny… You guys are gonna make me cum!”

Growls from either side of you went right to your core as the hand that rubbed at your clit worked faster. Skin slapped against skin from multiple angles, and sweat lined your brow as your body warmed from the ecstasy.

With one final push, you finally fell apart as you came hard. Your entire body trembled and threatened to fall over, but the two pairs of strong arms never let that happen. The two men continued to pump themselves in and out of you until tears fell down your face.

They shifted themselves slightly so that you fell forward on top of Frankie’s chest and Benny laid out on your back. Benny and Frankie’s met over your shoulder, and they both knew that the other was close as well. Without a word needed, they locked lips in a passionate kiss while they snapped their hips against yours and each other until they too fell over the edge.

Frankie swallowed the groan that Benny let out as they both came at the same time, filling you even more to the brim. You whimpered as a shiver ran up your spine at the feeling, and your eyes rolled back into your head at the unbelievable feeling.

Once all three of you had no more to give, Benny rolled over, quickly pulling out of you in the process. You let out a yelp at the sudden feeling and you lunged forward so that Frankie’s cock also slipped out of you. 

You landed right in between Frankie and Benny, and the two of them immediately wrapped their arms around you. You tangled yourself with them both as you all made yourselves comfortable in your pile of limbs and emotions. No one said anything for several minutes; all of you needed to catch your breaths.

It was Frankie who spoke first, “You alright baby?” He asked as he peppered kissed along the side of your face.

“Fucking amazing,” you replied breathlessly.

“Ben?” Frankie looked over.

Benny kept his eyes closed, but a silly grin stayed plastered on his face, “What she said.”

You couldn't help but burst into laughter, and the two boys quickly dissolved into laughter too. You reached over and gave Benny a soft kiss before you turned and did the same to Frankie, “Thank you both,” you whispered.

Benny smiled as he nuzzled against you, and he sighed constantly when Frankie wrapped his arms around you both, “We gotta try this again.”

“Mmhmm,” Frankie hummed as he held you both closely.

#frankie morales x reader #benny miller x reader #francisco morales x reader #ben miller x reader #frankie morales x you #benny miller x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco catfish morales x reader #benny miller #frankie morales imagine #benny miller imagine #frankie catfish morales imagine #frankie catfish morales x you #ben miller x you #Frankie Morales #frankie morales x y/n #benny miller x y/n #francisco morales x you #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

[growup-thatbeautiful]

where you go, i go

Tags: Benny Miller x Reader, Mentions of Trauma, Light Angst, Sleepy Mornings, Cuddles, Mentions of Violence, Clingy Reader

A/n: I missed Benny. thanks @princessmermaid1289 for the request!

Word Count: 1.5k

~*~

The thing is, Benny doesn’t always make it easy to leave for work in the morning. He works on his schedule at the gym, so he’s never in as much of a hurry as you are in the mornings. Which leads to its own problems.

Firstly, Benny is absolutely incorrigible in the mornings. He’s used to waking up early and getting ready to go, which can be fun when you’re prepared for it. You never would have thought that you would like having a boyfriend so full of energy and sunshine in the morning, but you’ve come to love how a grin lights up Benny’s face every morning that he sees you. It’s like he is always surprised to see you there like you might slip away in the night if he doesn’t hold you tight enough.

Secondly, Benny does absolutely nothing to discourage you in the mornings. So, when you wake up and don’t want to get out of bed, he’ll happily keep you beside him as long as he can. From whispered conversations in white bedsheets and morning breath-leaden kisses, Benny can’t seem to help you along with your morning routine. And if you do make it out of bed, he’s even worse. He’ll sneak up behind you and plant kisses along your neck exactly where he knows will make you weak, and that alone costs you at least 10 minutes.

Lastly, you have no desire to separate from him. Benny is comfort, safety, and home. It’s a wonder that you’re ever able to make it out of the house when his arms are so secure around you.

This morning specifically, though, it isn’t Benny’s fault that you’re running late. No, you can confidently say that you got yourself into the mess. You know better than to let Benny kiss you good morning with his hair tousled like that. His hands trace idle patterns into your skin, the chill of the air around you is nothing compared to the heat coming from Benny. You should know that once he starts, you melt for him, and then you’re stuck in his magnetism.

You’re right next to him while he brushes his teeth, leaning on his strong frame for support. When he finishes and makes his way into your tiny kitchen, you’re right behind him again, his calloused hand in yours. While he makes breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast, you make coffee, working silently in tandem. You know he likes sugar and milk in his coffee and he knows you need extra pepper in your eggs.

You can’t help but tug him close to you when you hand him his coffee, his hand automatically settling on the skin of your waist underneath the army t-shirt of his that you’re wearing. If it was anyone else, you would feel self-conscious, but that faded around Benny a long time ago. He kisses you again, his breath tasting like mint toothpaste, his free hand moving to cup your face gently. The sigh you let out into his mouth tells him just how deeply you want to be with him all day.

Benny grins at you when he pulls away, and he lightly sets the coffee mug down on the counter beside you. “Honey,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist before tilting your face up to face him. “Why don’t you stay home?”

“I can’t just skip work every time I want to hang out with you,” you protest, leaning into his warmth easily. “As good as it sounds.”

“Why not?” Benny’s low voice resonates against your cheek as he pulls you in closer, his hand smoothing over your hair gently. “You could come to the gym with me and watch me train.” The usual cockiness is in his voice, but you know it’s a genuine offer. Plus, you would be a fool to give up a chance to watch him train.

“I can’t,” you say again, if only for argument's sake. Really, it never takes much convincing for you to stay with Benny. Not when he’s looking at you with those eyes.

“Then I’ll come to work with you,” he offers. “Cathy always says she wants to see more of me.” The boyish twinkle in his eyes is so hard to respond to without agreeing to everything he says.

“Cathy’s in love with you,” you bluntly state. “And she’s got claws to grab hold of you.”

“I’ll be careful,” he solemnly replies, trying to hide his grin unsuccessfully. “Where you go, I go.” Despite his grin, you can feel the gravity of his words. You know the weight of them; they’re more than an empty promise. When you first met Benny, he was a shadow of the man he is today. You don’t know all the details- he’ll tell you when he’s ready- but you know that something bad happened on a job he went on with Frankie, Santi, and Will. They came back without Tom and without anything to show for his death except for a trust fund and a starburst scar through Benny’s stomach.

But you also know that Benny made a promise to the guys. He lived a great part of his life sprinting to catch up to the space behind Will’s shadow. His whole life, he’s been following Will, the ever-devoted little brother.

First, he followed him onto the high-school football team. For years, the Miller name dominated their small town’s talk. Little Benny Miller was just as talented as his brother, a force on the field, and a gentleman too.

Then, he followed Will into the army. Head first, head down, headstrong. Benny, you know, didn’t think twice before signing his name on those papers so that he could do unspeakable, secret things in dark places of the world. Benny doesn’t talk about it a lot, and you don’t ever ask him to, but you know from the sleepless nights and the nightmare-ridden ones that the scars lining Benny’s body go deeper than the skin.

And though you’re sure it won’t be the last time, Benny finally followed Will into the jungle on that goddamn trip. They all lost things there, but from what you’ve heard from Frankie and Santi when Benny and Will go off together and come back with red eyes Benny lost a little bit of his light on that trip. He was- and still is- the most optimistic, selfless person you know. He’s always the first to crack a joke or give an easy smile, but there’s less behind his smile than there use to be sometimes. Maybe it can’t be fixed, maybe this is something that he has to go through on his own, but you’re not going to let him wander without something holding him to the ground and guiding him back home.

So when he says that he’ll go where you go, you know that it’s his way of telling you that today he needs you to be that person for him. Benny can’t simply ask for help when he needs it, it’s against his hardwiring. This is as close as he’s going to get, but you know him well enough to know to take the offering that he’s given you.

There are only so many people that Benny will follow. You don’t know if it’s coincidence or some deeper connection that made you feel how you feel on a day when Benny needs you, but you thank whatever it is.

“Okay,” you agree, running your hands along his arms. “I’ll stay home today. But you get to be the one to call my boss and tell her I’m sick.” It breaks your heart a little bit to see the surprised smile that fights its way to Benny’s face. For how long you’ve been dating, Benny doesn’t ever seem to think that you’ll stay when things get hard. You’ll just have to keep showing him.

“I’ll make it sound believable,” Benny promises. “And if I reach Cathy I’ll make sure to tell her hi.”

“You better not,” you warn, placing your hand on his cheek and tapping lightly. “Do you want me to call Will and the boys over?”

There’s no one else who knows Benny as well as you do. They’ve all been through hell together, so they can bring Benny out of anything.

Benny hums in consideration and grabs his quickly cooling coffee, taking a sip before he answers. “Make ‘em sweat. I’ll take some time with my girl before those assholes come and make a mess of it.”

“Okay,” you agree. “You have a phone call to make.”

“I guess I do.” Benny doesn’t seem quite convinced to let you go yet, and you can’t help but savor the moment. His arms around you, words whispered into the crown of your hair, the smell of his cologne filling your senses.

“Beny?” you mumble against his chest, and he looks at you, his expression honest and pure and everything that he is. “I think the eggs are burning.”

“I’ll make you some more,” he says, laugh lines around his eyes become more prominent. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

You could never say no to that. For however many mornings you’re late to work, you think it’s worth it to have Benny there for you.

To be there for each other.

#benny miller #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x you #benny miller x reader #benny miller x female reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #benny miller fic #ben miller #benjamin miller #benny miller fanfic #benny miller fanfiction #nova writes #triple frontier boys

[brewsterispunkk]

sunshine state

EPILOGUE

pairing: benny miller x f!reader

WC: 1.4k

summary: the end.

A/N: thank you so much for being here. ily.

EPILOGUE

You took a nervous breath, smoothing your hands down the satin fabric falling over your legs.

The dress was long—longer than you normally would like. But, it was a wedding, after all.

You fisted the smooth fabric in your hands, willing your heart rate to slow. It was ridiculous that the nerves were getting to you like this. Then again, you never liked being the center of attention.

Across the room, in front of the large vanity, you heard Everett’s booming laugh from where he stood with the rest of the bridal party.

You smiled to yourself, Everett’s carefree mood lifting your own.

You could do this, you thought to yourself.

Your palms felt sticky and clammy. You hated that you were second-guessing this. It was the easiest “yes” you’d ever given in your life. You’d barely even thought when he’d asked you. And now, you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Hey,” Everett’s smiling face pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Just a little nervous.”

“A little?” He raised an eyebrow.

“A lot nervous.” You relented.

“Why?” He laughed.

“I don’t know,” You scratched the skin of your wrist, not liking the way his eyes saw right through you. “I just don’t like the idea of everyone’s eyes on me.”

“You’ll be fine,” he squeezed your shoulder. “It’s a cake-walk. Just do what you did at the rehearsal.”

“You mean when I almost threw up all over Benny’s shoes?”

It hadn’t been pretty; You were pretty sure Pope almost had a heart-attack when he saw how nervous you’d gotten. He’d practically planned the whole wedding.

“You were fine,” Everett rolled his eyes. “Just do what Will told you.”

“To picture everyone naked?”

“No,” Everett shook your shoulders slightly. “Just look at Benny.”

You hummed, still not feeling sure.

“Or better yet, look at me,” he winked at you. “I have to finish getting ready. We got, like, thirty minutes.”

You nodded, turning to the mirror.

It was about five minutes later when you heard the quiet tap on the door to the back-room in the church.

“Who is it?”

You heard the shuffling of feet on the other side and smirked to yourself, already knowing who it was.

“Ben, is that you?”

“...Maybe.”

“Is that Ben?” Everett called from over his shoulder. “Tell him to get the hell out! It’s bad luck!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Ev.” Benny called through the door.

You giggled.

“I don’t care. Tradition is tradition.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at Everett, who tossed you an obstinate look.

“What do you need, babe?” You asked through the door.

“Hey baby,” you could practically hear the smile in his voice. Even after all this time, it made your stomach flip.

“Oh, save it!” Everett called. “Why are you here?”

“Uh, about that,” Benny coughed. “I need help with my tie.”

You snorted to yourself.

“The same tie you told me you could handle yourself this morning when I tried to help you?”

Benny sighed from the other side of the door.

“Yeah.”

Everett sighed and came to stand beside you.

“I don’t care, Miller! You aren’t coming in here.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll do it. I’ll tie it in the hallway.”

“But–”

“He won’t step foot in here. I’ll be two seconds. It’s fine.”

Everett sighed, placated.

“Fine. But you get five minutes.”

“I’ll be less than that. I promise.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, before crossing back to the others on the other side of the room. You smiled, opening the door and slipping out. You quietly shut the door, before jumping at the presence in front of you.

You bumped into the hard wall of muscle that was Benny Miller nearly as soon as you set foot out the door. You hadn’t been expecting him to be that close.

You stumbled backwards, nearly hitting your head on the door, before Benny’s warm hands caught you around the waist and pulled you until your front was pressed to his.

“Woah, sorry.” you breathed, hands finding his biceps.

His cologne invaded your senses and you felt nearly every seed of anxiety from before melt away.

“Holy,” Benny sounded reverent and your eyes snapped to his.

His blue-green eyes were wide and his lips were parted as he ran his eyes up your figure. His tie hung untied around his neck, the rest of his tux buttoned and ironed to perfection. He looked perfect, your boy.

Your boy. No matter how much time had passed, your heart still leapt at being able to call him that.

“What?” You asked at his dumbstruck expression, eyebrows jumping to your hairline. “Do I have something on my—”

You were cut off by Benny’s lips on yours.

You gasped, and his tongue dipped into your mouth, parting your lips as he kissed you deeper. His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, grabbing. You bent into him, sighing. Though you’d only been apart for a few hours, it was still too long.

After a moment, Everett’s muffled voice from inside broke you apart. He was speaking to one of the photographers. Suddenly, you remembered what you were supposed to be doing.

“Mm,” you mumbled as you broke apart. “Benny, I’m supposed to be helping you with your tie–”

“Everyday I wake up and wonder how I got so lucky.” The words were breathless as he pressed his forehead to yours.

You smiled fondly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“Hmm, where’s this coming from?”

He shook his head against yours, before sighing and pulling back. He pressed his lips in between your brows and kissed you there.

“You look stunning.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“God, I love you so much.”

You threw your head back and laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his body to yours in a hug. You swayed there for a minute.

“Feeling sentimental, Mr. Miller?”

He hummed against your neck, before a pounding to the door made you both jump.

“Hurry up! We’ve got twenty minutes!”

You sighed, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Here, let me.”

You busied yourself with his tie while his eyes remained firmly on you.

“You look rather dashing today yourself, Mr. Miller.”

“That so?” He smirked at you and you felt yourself get giddy. He could get you to do anything when he smiled at you like that.

“Mmmhmm.” you hummed, pulling him to you with his tie. He closed his eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead you just whispered, “see you out there.”

Before he knew what was happening, you were back inside the room, the door shutting in his face.

- - - -

“I do,” Everett smiled through his tears as the priest pronounced him and Santi as husbands.

You brushed a stray tear away from your own cheek as you watched them: two of your best friends, your found family, pledge their lives to each other.

On Santi’s side of the aisle stood his groomsmen: Everett’s two brothers, Will, Frankie, and, of course, Benny. You’d wept when Everett had asked you to be one of his bridesmaids—or, groomsmaids as he called you.

Your eyes caught Benny’s through the crowd’s applause at the new couple.

He was blinking away tears of his own through his smile.

The two of you swayed slowly in the crowded dance hall.

Your face was pressed to his shoulder, the cotton of his button-up soft against your cheek. Benny had long since ditched his tux jacket and had since rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His arms were wrapped around your waist as you swayed.

Over his shoulder, Frankie and Mari danced, their foreheads pressed together as they whispered to themselves. To your side, Everett danced with his mother, and beside him, Santi danced with Alma, who had just turned three and was their flower girl. She giggled into her uncle’s shoulder as he spun her. Everett looked upon them with a placated smile.

Suddenly, the ring on your left ring finger felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle to him. Your whole life, you’d been terrified of making the wrong choice in a life partner. You’d been scared you’d choose wrong, or worse: you’d settle. Looking at Benny now, you knew that wasn’t possible.

He was it for you—he always had been.

#sunshine state #benny miller #triple frontier #benny miller x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier imagine #benny miller imagine #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales #santiago pope garcia #will miller #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller fanfic

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 7

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader Words: 4.8k Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Hi all, as promised - here it is.

I firstly wanna thank you all for baring with me, writing has not been coming easily to me recently, but your messages and reblogs that kept coming even after I hadn't posted in a while bought a smile to my face each and every time x

This is the first of two parts that will finally bring this to fic to a close - I have no idea when the next will be out, but rest assured I am 500 words into it.

I hope you enjoy x

➢ fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

14th February 2022 - 26 Weeks Pregnant. 

“Push it in, Ben!” 

“There’s nothing to push - It’s in all the way!” 

“Seriously, Miller?!”

“You wanna do it?!” Benny huffed, holding out the extendable paint roller in hand as he tried to force the two pieces of the black shaft of the plastic pole together. 

“Stop pushing it so hard! You’re gonna break -” A harsh crack of plastic giving way sounded as Ben’s frustration crescendoed. “-It.” 

A sigh escaped you at the expense of the man who would be the father of your child as he threw the two pieces of the roller to the ground in frustration, ranting under his breath about it being a piece of crap. 

Neither one of you spoke for a moment, both still processing the loss of the specialist equipment that would allow you to reach the ridiculously high ceilings in your new bedroom. 

“Well… that was clearly your fault.” Benny snarked only half serious, as he leant back against the wall with a sigh and took a swig of his Yoohoo in defeat.  

The usual cooling beer was nowhere to be seen as alcohol was strictly off of the menu for the Miller-Y/L/N household in an unexpected yet hugely appreciated show of support from Benjamin. 

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced the lines of his strong throat as he swallowed - after all, being considerate was sexy.

“In what fucking world was that my fault? - you’re the one that hulked it!” You scoffed. 

Benny advanced forward, a hand on his hip in faux annoyance, to where you lounged in a camping chair on the opposite side of the room, overseeing the painting operation. He snatched the untouched instructions from where they had been sandwiched between the arm of the chair and the side of your thigh. You tried not to focus on the clenching of your southern regions as his warm palm grazed the meat of your thigh. 

“Y/N! Seriously? Dude! It says goddamn twist!” Your brain scrambled for a defense but came up empty. 

How could you explain that your hormone addled brain had been too preoccupied appreciating the way his t-shirt strained against the muscle of his bicep as he tried to force the mismatched pieces together with sheer strength. 

Honestly, you weren't sure what size that man was buying but for the sake of your sanity you were this close to recommending he size-up. 

“Oh…” 

Benny simply shook his head with a snort and folded the thin instruction manual back up before he bopped your forehead with it. 

“I’ll see if Frankie has a ladder in his truck.” He turned on his heel with a grin to go find Catfish, who was no doubt painting or reassembling furniture in one of the rooms in your new home. 

It had been two months since the Christmas debacle and you were currently trying to find your sea legs in this unforgiving ocean that was your life. 

It was a delicate process, this co-parenting, but the two of you were nailing it.

Together you had decided to get a house near a good school that would become the neutral ground; the two of you were starting over for the sake of your daughter, so you’d agreed to go into this without any ugly preconceptions and all resentment put aside. 

Moving in together was a huge decision that had taken weeks to reach.

Every step of the way you had been terrified that at any moment Benny would turn heel and flee, though his resolve remained strong, in fact he was the one who had suggested it. 

I know! 

Mr I'm-not-looking-for-anything-serious-right-now, suggested you move and play house.

Well not quite, as the two of you had yet to discuss that side of your friendship. 

There was a ceasefire in action; a mutually beneficial truce that was admittedly fractured, neither one of you was brave enough to test the bounds and risk destroying the delicate ecosystem that had been created in the suburbs. This little girl was all that mattered.

The two of you had fallen back into step of your old friendship, only with significantly more longing looks, lingering touches and awkward silences… but sure, for the most part, totally nailing it.  

Who were you kidding? 

You were longing for his touch, every time he stroked your stomach and sang to his daughter, every time he drank a can of coke instead of a beer you were positively quaking with desire. 

Your hormones didn’t help but they couldn’t be entirely blamed. 

It felt like your life was coming together, like you could be a real family in this house. 

Hell, you could get rid of the other of the bedroom and have a nursery and wake up every morning to Benny peppering your neck with kisses as he breached your walls with slow sleepy morning sex. 

Benny was getting his shit together. He was almost unrecognizable as the man who had let you down nearly three months ago. 

He had accepted a job at the gym as a personal trainer - part-time, of course - which meant he had a steadier income to supplement his fights. 

Benny had become … consistent. 

He answered his phone when you needed him, he was less prone to flying off of the handle and he hadn’t run away from you in a 7/11 car park in like three whole months.

Hell, he had even started attending some sessions down at the VA with Will! Honestly - Fatherhood suited him. It was like the responsibility had given him something he’d been missing since returning home.

You also hadn’t been able to help noticing a deficit in women, perhaps it was naive to assume when you’d only lived together for the better part of an afternoon that you knew his business. Maybe it was blind hope, but the two of you had moments. 

Fleeting ones, but moments nonetheless!

Ones where he’d laugh a little harder at your joke than it really deserved or his hugs that lingered far too long when he’d leave your apartment - you swore he smelled your hair once.

You felt like the two of you were building to something, that you could see the light at the end of the tunnel, a real future for the three of you. 

Apparently by planning out the next ten years of yours and Ben’s life together you had tempted fate.

Your attention was drawn quite innocently to his phone which was nestled in the mesh cup holder of your camping chair for safekeeping whilst he painted. 

You’d swear in a court of law that you only glanced at the screen because you thought it was your own, however the message that flashed on the screen snuffed out the light in your daydreams.

‘JASMINE: Are we still on for later? ’

Oh. 

Huh.

Okay.

You weren’t sure of the myriad of emotions that powered through you in quick succession. 

Hurt, jealousy, anger; those were the easiest to pick out.

Logically, you had no claim to the man, you’d agreed to co-parent, nothing more. But the betrayal of the life that could’ve been was hard to stomach.

Unable to stop and not entirely sure it was your hormones at fault, your throat clenched and your eyes began watering. 

It was stupid, to be so broken up over what was essentially eye contact and accidental touches but, there it was. 

When Benny rounded the corner carrying a ladder to find your streaming eyes he unceremoniously laid it against the wall and fell to his knees before you.

“Darlin’ you thinking about the life insurance advert again?” one hand cradled your jaw whilst the other entwined your fingers with his as you fought every urge to pull away. “You know they’re just actors.” 

Just a few moments ago attention like this would’ve killed you dead, but now, it didn’t mean anything; he was your friend. 

He cared for you and your daughter, that’s all it was. 

You had talked the talk, now it was time to walk the walk. 

You’d be the best goddamn mother this kid could ask for and that would be enough, it had to be.

16th March 2022 -  31 weeks pregnant

Three months.

Three months of being treated like an invalid.

You weren’t allowed to lift anything deemed too heavy, you weren’t allowed to workout and god forbid you tried to put together some of the furniture for the nursery alone - hell, you were barely allowed to go to work. 

At Val’s misplaced insistence you’d been transferred to desk duty.

You may be thinking, gee, but Y/N what exactly does a school nurse on desk duty do? 

Well, she sits on her newly fat ass all day and logs every record of every menial accident to happen in this miserable place since 1965. 

Yup, that’s every single scraped knee or nose bleed in the past sixty years. 

You weren’t even half way through the 80’s after three whole weeks of this hell. 

The doctor had recommended taking it easy but you didn’t know if you had another two months like this left in you. 

Not to mention the Godforsaken hormones. 

They had been wreaking havoc ever since your second trimester, but somehow as the months progressed, they had doubled down as an apparent non-stop ache had taken up permanent residence between your thighs.

This kid was slowly killing you.

The ever present resentment flared as Val returned with your lemonade instead of an icy beer, though you accepted with thanks as the two of you relaxed on your new porch swing in your back garden. 

The sun had begun to set as the boys were up wing using the fancy new BBQ grill; a generous house-warming gift from the now absent Santiago.

The trio chuckled loudly at a remark you couldn’t quite catch from Catfish. Departing Will had made a retort as he came to join the two of you, a bowl of barbecued corn in hand as a peace offering. 

You’re somehow annoyed at Benny’s thoughtful anticipation of your never ending hunger. Logic was an old friend these days, hell, he was a penpal at this point.

All the same you took the corn with a grateful smile, taking a large bite of the buttery goodness as Ironhead sat with a groan as he made himself comfortable in the folding camp chair to your right.

“So, how's motherhood treating ya?” Will questioned with a deep chuckle at the filthy look you threw his way. 

“It fuckin’ sucks” You huffed inbetween bites of corn.

“Preach that shit.” Val joked as she raised her glass in toast.

“I’m hungry all the time, everything's swollen and beer! - I miss beer so much. I have a headache every other day and Will - I’m so sorry, but everything turns me on.” Will - to his credit merely snorted into his beer at your embarrassing monologue. “Val, I swear, I saw Frankie licking his fingers after chips earlier and I almost jumped him.” 

Val cackled at your confession. “Oh hon, you’re at the halfway point - a light breeze angled the right way will do that to you!”

“I can do something about one of those things… The food Y/N. The food.” Will held the bowl of corn up in surrender, looking terrified for a moment when your head had perked up at the implication. 

“What about Benny? Surely he’d be willing to… help you?” Val waggled her eyebrows, completely avoiding eye contact with Will as she conspired about his brothers sex life. 

You paused your nibbling on the near bare husk and placed it in the bowl Will currently gripped in defense of his virtue. 

He took a swig of his beer pretending to not be interested in your conversation, though you knew full well that man was the biggest gossip you knew, he was as eager for an update as Val. 

“Well, I asked him for some… relief but someone thinks that will open up a can of worms.” You grouch, your voice raised an octave or two into a distinctively whiney pitch as you imitate the father of your child. Will, in his defense, did attempt to hide his smirk though there was definitely some pride mixed in at the mention of his brother's restraint. You take a swig of your lemonade before continuing. “He doesn’t think we should smash just because of my hormones… might regret it after or some shit.”  

“... how can I possibly resist when she calls it ‘smashing’?” Benny questioned his own voice laced with sarcasm, as he joined the new trio with Catfish and baby Catfish on his heels both carrying plates of delicious food. 

“It’s beyond me.” Val chuckled in an attempt to diffuse, before she turned her gaze towards her child who was head of burger bun distribution. “One for your tia, please baby.”

Mariana grabbed you a plate and began preparing you a burger, dousing it in what you’d consider a confusing combo of far too little cheese and way too much ketchup, but you were eternally ravenous and not above eating it. 

“Mmmh… best burger maker ever! Thank you, beautiful.” You groan to the little girl as she grins proudly to her Dad who has joined you and Val on the swing. 

As she goes about her business filling both of her uncles plates you can’t help the pang of jealousy that fills your heart as you catch the couple in your peripheral.

Frankie had his arm wrapped around Val’s shoulder as she nestled her face into his neck. 

“Te extrañé, Cariño” She whispers, kissing him sweetly. 

Frankie chuckles at her words and takes her hand in his much larger one before placing a kiss on the back of it. He doesn’t relinquish his hold as everyone begins talking once again.It was simply a sweet interaction between a married couple, you can’t quite put a finger on why it makes your heart ache.

Your eyes caught Benny’s. His grin widened as you locked eyes before he noticed the pinch of flesh between your brows. 

The silent conversation began as Ben squinted in question before you managed to school your features and nod his way to let him know you're fine. 

He isn’t sold, you can tell that from the glances he threw your way for the ten minutes that followed. 

That message from the elusive Jasmine, still weighing heavy on your heart almost a month later.

There were days, like the one where you propositioned him that you’re happy to look past it, where the life you would build together would outlast anything, but then there are days when you hate him for it.

The ones where you didn’t trust him or yourself. 

You’d said goodbye to logic long ago - Emotion reigned here and she could be a cruel bitch when she wanted to be. 

20th April 2022 - 36 weeks 

“Step… step.. now to the left-”

“Oof!” You grunted as your nose met something that felt suspiciously like drywall.

“Your other left, sweetie.” Val corrected kindly, you couldn’t be sure as the blindfold currently compromised your vision but the distinct lilt that usually accompanied a smile filled her voice. 

Grunting you followed her instruction as her palm gripped yours, leading you another three paces.

If you were a betting woman you’d place good money that you were in Will’s house. The pleasant albeit overpowering scent of Teakwood and Tobacco made bile rise in the back of your throat, as it had done ever since the tiny squatter had taken up residence in your womb. 

“Right there, perfect... take it off!” Val instructed as she released your hand.

Hesitantly your own fingers rose, not quite sure what to expect - ‘A surprise’ was a broad construct after all. 

Unfortunately, you were pretty sure you knew what the surprise was - a puppy. 

Benny had been uncharacteristically absent all week and when he’d returned one afternoon after an ‘errand’, he’d shown you an instagram of a golden retriever named Bill, gushing over its cuteness. 

Whilst you could surely appreciate the cuteness, the question of what the hell were a couple with a new baby on the way were supposed to do with a godforsaken puppy weighed heavy on your mind. 

Though, when Val told you of your surprise you had simply resigned yourself to burn that bridge when you got to it.

Finally, you granted your eyes freedom and what was before them made them well of their own accord. 

In the place of a golden retriever puppy was every single person you loved in this world, stood before you with party hats and grins. 

“Surprise!” They cheered in unison. 

Benny stood in the middle of the crowd smiling, you had unconsciously searched him out before you began your scan of the lounge in Will’s home. The entirety of the bottom floor of Ironheads house had been outfitted in puce pink banners and balloons. ‘It’s a girl’ and ‘you go mama’ were the core slogans imprinted on the decorations.

The huge Y/F cake sat in the center of the buffet platter, though not to be outdone, the plates on the platter were filled with every last one of your cravings from the past eight months.  About 20 McDonald’s Double Cheeseburgers, peaches, corn, pickles, oreos and cookies - so many different varieties of cookies - you name it, it was there. 

Finally your breaking point came when your eyes caught your Mother and Father on the iPad. 

They had been facetimed from Y/H/T. 

Despite being unable to make it, Benny had made sure that they were included, of course he had. 

The pièce de résistance however, was the man currently holding the iPad up. 

Santiago Garcia; you hadn’t expected to see your flighty best friend until long after your baby was here.

It was all too much, the hormones, the lack of sleep, the thoughtfulness of the father of your child. 

You crumbled into tears and ugly tears at that. 

Thickly, they streamed down your cheeks. You looked up through the wall of hot salt water to find Benny in front of you cradling your jaw, he had gotten to you before even Val who had been at your side. 

“Oh, Babe… I’m sorry, is this not right?” Benny rambles, his nerves getting the better of him. His eyes are frantic as they beg for your forgiveness. “I’m still not completely sure what a baby shower is… we can redo it next-” 

You shut him up with a hug, one of those all encompassing ones which fix everything without words. All of the appreciation and unspoken feelings you had for the man went into this. 

Noone had ever done anything remotely close to this for you before.

Every inch of this party was perfect, because every aspect spoke about the details of your life he’d taken in and memorized. 

At that thought the tears somehow got worse. You were blubbering into his cream jumper, the one you had bought him for his birthday, that alone fueled the wail the left your chest. 

After a moment or two he pulled back, wiping under your eyes with napkins Catfish had discreetly shoved into his hand behind your back. 

“Good tears?”

With a nod and a snotty sniff you confirm. “Good tears.”

Finally you calm down enough for Benny to take your hand in his and refuse to relinquish his hold on it as you greet everyone. Your friends from work, Mr and Mrs Miller, of course - the Morales family and Santi.

Finally dropping his hold on you Ben watches as you embrace your best friend.

“Gordita! You’re sooo big now!” He laughed lifting you from the ground,  you didn’t need to see to know Ben would be cringing in fear for both you and your child. 

“Excuse me, la narizota?” You huffed once he had placed you back on the ground. His answering chuckle thundered throughout the room as he cradled his nose with narrowed eyes.

“It’s not that big.”

“Sure, and I’m not fat…” You smirk, looking down at your protruding belly and raising your eyebrows.

“La puta.” His eyes are narrowed and his voice low but it lacks any real venom.

“I missed you, Hermano.” The two of you embrace once more and even though Santi doesn’t say the words, the kiss on your forehead tells you all you need to know. 

“You’re gonna be a mama!” His voice is cheery as he pulls away before wrapping Ben in his own crushing hug.“And you Benjamin! You’re gonna be a papa!” 

The two men part with a manly pat on the back and Ben is back at your side wrapping a protective arm around your lower back. You lean into his hold, comforted by his familiar cologne and warm jumper. 

“What’s the little lady’s name gonna be?”

“We’re not telling.” Ben says quickly.

“It’s a surprise!” You say at the same time. “Some people are opinionated, and we want the name to be our choice.”

“Really?!” You hear from behind.

Seated on the couch Will leans an arm over the back of the sofa, twisting his torso to defend himself. “Just because I didn’t like the name Daisy?” Jen shoved his shoulder with narrowed eyes before he continued. “What?! It sounded like a damn cow…”

Wait... Jen? Jen was back? … holy shit she was brave returning after what had to be the awkwardest night of your life thus far.  Had you really been that self obsessed for the past four months that you hadn’t realized Will had reignited that old flame? 

You felt a spark of guilt, yet your respect for the woman overcame that as you apologized profusely for the whole awkward affair, with the promise that you’d give her a signal if anything was to break out tonight.

Jen had taken this in good humor and congratulated you on the baby, she had then forced Will to surrender their place on the sofa so that you could sit beside Mrs Miller comfortably with the 7 pound watermelon permanently strapped to your midsection. 

You liked her.

You hadn’t realized that your mother and Ben’s were currently deep in conversation, something about staying at their house when she came up for the birth, there was some vague planning about thanksgiving occurring that you weren’t privy to - though you were sure you’d get looped in eventually, or at least you hoped you would. 

Benny's mother was a gorgeous woman.

Though you’d expected nothing less, after all both her sons looked like they were created in a lab.  Her boys took after her in their coloring and her sharp features, in her youth you had no doubt she would’ve intimidated you despite her kind nature.

Grinning, she turned to you, before she raised her glasses from the gold string around her neck. She expertly flipped the camera after a moment or two on the iPad to show you off to your mother.

“Look Y/M/N, she’s absolutely glowing!” Mrs Miller complimented. You smile awkwardly, it has never been your strong suit taking praise, well from anyone but Benny. 

And that was a whole different kettle of fish, as the things that degenerate of a man praised you for were much more fun, but objectively not things one should be considering in the company of his mother. 

“Thank you.” You settle for instead.

You speak to the duo for a while, talking about the nursery, baby clothes and the bag you’ve packed for the hospital. That seemed enough to quell their need for information before the two of them begin gossiping.

These two women had yet to meet one another and yet, from what you’d heard, they were now thick as thieves. Phoning each other nearly every night, hell the two of them had become Facebook friends and you’re even pretty sure they meant to do it.   

Your eyes search the room for Benny as she resumes her conversation with your mother, and find his wide shoulders deep in conversation with Will and Jen. 

You’re tempted to thank the woman for birthing an adonis of a son, as she chit-chats to your mother. 

God, you’d love to rip that cable-knit jumper off of him and lick every muscle on that lean body.  

Embarrassingly your eyes must have been burning a hole through his spine as he turns for a moment to lock eyes with your own. 

You hold him in your gaze before he winks, the sonofabitch winks at you and turns back, chuckling at something one of them said.

You can’t quite come to terms with the fact your core is aching from that tiny non-interaction. 

The sex flashbacks had definitely gotten worse since you entered your third trimester. Your hormones were all over the place and it was only made so much worse as masturbation had become near impossible as maneuvering around the massive bump anchored to your front was a logistic challenge.

You had propositioned Benny more times than you could count, but somewhere along the road to fatherhood he had gained a moral fucking compass. 

He didn’t want to just have sex to have sex, he wanted it to mean something.

As neither one of you were willing to risk confessing to more than friendship, you had reached an impasse, where nobody was getting any. 

Well, You didn’t think he was getting any, atleast.

Bothered by this thought you went to stand. Went, being the operative word. 

Much like a ladybird stuck on its back you struggled to get adequate footing to propel yourself forward. 

A large tanned hand stretched out to offer you support, one you took gratefully. From above William Snr was smiling, a plate full of cake in one hand for his wife. 

“Thank you, the melon under my shirt makes things difficult."

He chuckled at your words, reminding you so much of Benny. “She’s half Miller. It’s in her blood to be difficult.

“You’re preaching to the choir here.” You hold your hands up in surrender smiling at the man before you.

He took your seat as you turned to seek out Ben, only to find him coming towards you with two slices of cake.

He tilted his head towards the back door, where the two of you now found yourself on the porch swing, the only smidgen of privacy you’d received since arriving at the party nearly 2 hours ago. 

“How’s the day going?”

“Amazing, Ben. Thank you.” You take a bite of cake and can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Unfortunately, you don’t see the way his eyes darken at the sound and the reminders it brings him - if you had, you’d have no doubt economized on that weakness.

“I wasn’t sure a baby shower was your thing and with the no drinking I wasn’t-” You’re not used to Benny being apprehensive. Well that’s not true, those few weeks that followed the break-up had been filled with it. Rather, you’re not used to Benny being insecure in himself, he was a fighter, all that bravado and confidence came hand in hand. It was breaking your heart to see it gone. 

So, you threw all caution to the wind. You said fuck it and gambled on yourself for once in your life.

Swallowing the cake in your mouth, you leaned forward, taking his jaw in your fingers, effectively shutting up his dithering monologue and joined your lips.

He breathed out heavily through his nose in shock at your sudden movement. 

At the lack of reciprocation you began to pull away, only to be followed as he dropped his cake to the seat next to him to grab your jaw. His thumb anchored by your ear as his mouth devoured your own. 

It was six month of pent up emotions breaking through that wall of denial. His tongue slid against yours tasting vaguely of vanilla and something that was distinctly Benny. Your own tongue joined the dance, fighting for dominance before you retreated and playfully bit his lip, gaining a groan from the father of your child.

The two of you pulled apart though your foreheads remained touching, both catching your breath. Neither one of you is sure of what to say to the other. 

Finally, you go to speak, however you’re swiftly cut off by his phone and the tinkering bells of Sencha. 

“Ignore it.” He whispers, closing his eyes and catching his breath. You rub your nose against his own which makes him smile.

As you go to join your lips, once again, you are cut off. 

He huffs pulling back. “Someone better be fucking dying.”

He reaches into his back pocket for his phone and looks at the name, with a sigh before he leans forward joining your lips in one final solid kiss. 

“It’s work…I’ll be right back, don’t move, okay?” You nod in agreement, mostly because you want more kisses.

As you run your fingers across your slightly inflamed lips you wish you didn’t hear the words that made the world around you crumble.

“Hey Jaz… Yeah sure, no… I guess I can talk… I’m... not that busy…”

next part

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichue @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

#benny miller x y/n #benny miller x reader #ben miller x reader #garret hedlund #triple frontier fic #triple froniter #Benny Miller #Benjamin Miller #Ben Miller #triple frontier #triple frontier au #william ironhead miller #francisco catfish morales #santiago garcia #benjamin miller #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #Commitment Issues #Spotify

[beaxtrice]

Zombie Apocalypse AU (moodboard)

Benny Miller

Requested by an anon <3

[main masterlist] [moodboards masterlist]

Like/Reblog if you save

Thanks ☕︎

#ben miller #benny miller #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #zombie apocalypse au #ben miller x reader #benny miller x reader #triple frontier imagine #ben miller imagine #benny miller x you #benny miller x y/n #benny miller imagine #zombiecore #zombie au #zombie aesthetic #apocalypse aesthetic #zombie apocalypse #dystopian au #dystopian #ben miller moodboard #beaxtrice wallpaper #moodboard #moodboard au

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch | JM x FM x SG x f!Reader

summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

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. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop. 

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now. 

It doesn’t happen. 

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back. 

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves. 

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been. 

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows. 

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’ 

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’ 

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’ 

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’ 

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch. 

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly. 

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly. 

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest. 

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too. 

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him.  He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared. 

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’ 

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’ 

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed. 

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze. 

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips. 

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan. 

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain. 

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’ 

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’ 

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is. 

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch. 

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly. 

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’ 

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’ 

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes. 

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it. 

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door. 

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming - 

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut. 

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress. 

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers. 

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction. 

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can. 

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again. 

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass. 

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar. 

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little. 

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip. 

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror. 

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin. 

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already. 

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’ 

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind. 

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously. 

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies. 

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant. 

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face. 

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple. 

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers. 

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’ 

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much. 

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside. 

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned. 

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you. 

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering. 

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it hurts, Frankie,’ you mumble, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What hurts?’ He breathes, and he’s leaning forwards over the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to bunch at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup your sex, as you buck against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not even sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge through his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

Easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s on fire and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass. 

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, mewling against your palm. 

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing the control that he shifts so easily to you. So easy. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window. 

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at Frankie

‘How does it feel?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you gasp, ‘So good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and aching. 

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken and veins throbbing beneath the surface.  You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle. 

His hips lift as he fucks himself slowly into his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to squeezing and cupping his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly slow circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining tendons in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So gorgeous.’

Frankie answers with his own choked growl as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself another finger, hermosa. Another. Wanna see you stretched out, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the truck, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Is it for me?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a cruel shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you. 

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, one more, please, hermosa. You oblige, cramming three of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I have to see you come.’ And you seize, tight as a knot around your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a choked growl, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his thick spend trickle over his knuckles, mouth watering at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and swiping it with your own fingertips to take to your lips, and it’s like Frankie’s read your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue laving between your fingers at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie moans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, licking beneath your nail before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on. 

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone. 

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’ 

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’ 

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly. 

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning. 

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’ 

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser. 

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos. 

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you. 

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped. 

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch. 

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance. 

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good. 

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad. 

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need. 

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up. 

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again. 

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long. 

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further. 

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat. 

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait. 

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt. 

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’ 

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious. 

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder. 

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound. 

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently. 

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming. 

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’ 

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs. 

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk. 

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him. 

‘Yeah, seems to you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill. 

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow are rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

#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 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x frankie morales x reader

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Denim on Denim

A Seams x Grays crossover

Summary: Joel tries to get a haircut - but it turns out he can’t do anything in the QZ without getting into a fistfight, and you’re lucky enough to be in the audience.

Warnings: Mildly spicy thoughts, two sexy men fighting, language, reader was a hairdresser prior to the outbreak and has a nickname related to her job, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader, very lightly edited.

This oneshot can be read independently of the two series, but for the full experience, I recommend reading at least Grays. This is a post-outbreak AU of Grays, and is set before Seams Joel leaves the QZ. Part of the Shiv's salon drabbles.

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: A whole year after my random thoughts about how Joel's hair looks that good in an apocalypse and a random notif on this post that reminded of it, we finally get Joel to Shiv's salon... or do we? 🤷🏻‍♀️ I had a blast writing this oneshot - it's a bit silly, a bit spicy, I hope you enjoy it ❤️

‘Goddamnit.’

Joel swipes viciously at the curl hanging over eyes, like a boxer at a punchbag. Try as he might to slick it back, every time his shovel hits the dirt, the hair uncoils, bouncing obnoxiously in his field of vision.

He needs a fucking haircut. Tess usually does it for him every month or so, but she’s been in a mood - snapping at him, keeping him at arm’s length, she hasn’t even been to his apartment for two whole weeks.

This time of the year is hard for her. He knows all too well that he’s the same every September. They’re in each of their own time loops, a cage within the trappings of the QZ.

‘You look like you need a trim, bro.’

Joel barely glances up. He knows the guy, they share a surname after all. People call him Ben, or Benny, and even an old man like him knows he’s a good-looking son of a bitch.

They work the same shifts sometimes, and he knows Tess has crossed paths with him at the illegal fight nights. Joel has also seen him a few times at the bar, where he’s usually surrounded by even more good-looking motherfuckers.

Joel knows he’s a damn flirt too. He always has pretty words for Tess when he sees her. He’s harmless though, and he supposes that she deserves sweet nothings from at least one Miller since he’s no good at them.

Realising he hasn’t responded, Joel grunts noncommittally, self-consciousness prickling the back of his neck.

‘I know someone, she was a professional hairdresser before all this.’

Joel ignores him and keeps shovelling.

‘If you tell her you know me, she’ll give you a good rate.’

More shovelling.

‘Alright man, my shift’s up. See you ‘round.’

Five steps, and Joel sighs, digging the shovel into the dirt.

‘Wait.’

Joel stands on the doorway, and stares.

There’s an actual backwash in the corner of the dingy living room - well, living space. There are no doors in the tenement apartments.

‘You waiting for it to say hello back, or what?’

His eyes snap to yours, a scowl drawing his brows together.

Not that you look at all intimidated, one eyebrow arched high and an amused smile sitting lopsided on your lips, which he will admit throws him just a bit. He’s not used to having to work for it.

Giving you a tight nod, he takes two steps into the apartment. He recognises the layout, a mirror of his own, which is a few blocks away.

Closing the door with a flourish behind him, you ask brightly, ‘You’re here for a haircut?’

He’s about to answer when something winks at him, and he looks up, momentarily blinded by the reflection of afternoon light in the cracked mirror that hangs over a battered styling station.

Your apartment has windows that don’t look directly onto the next building, and sun floods the space. Even light is a real rarity in the shithole of a QZ, where everything indoors is dingy. He idly wonders if you had to bribe someone -

Distracted, he catches the sliver of a shadow moving from the corner of his eye a split second later than he would if he was on high alert. On reflex, his fingers find the hilt of his knife and he whips it out in a wide arc, swinging to his left where gunmetal catches the afternoon light.

‘Drop it!’ he barks, the same moment as the other man growls, ‘The fuck are you doing in my home with a knife?’

To Joel’s bewilderment, you chuckle somewhere to his right, amused. ‘C’mon guys. Dramatic, much?’

‘He snuck up on me,’ Joel growls defensively.

‘Frankie, put your gun away, dude’s just here for a haircut - I’m assuming anyway, he never did answer my question.’

‘Yes, I’m here for a haircut,’ he snaps, resheathing his knife. ‘Fuck would I be doin’ here if not?’

‘Fuck should I know, dipshit?’ retorts Frankie, tucking his gun in the back of his jeans. ‘You always bring a knife to your haircuts?’

‘D’ya always threaten to shoot paying customers?’

‘No, we definitely do not.’ You step into the space between the two men in case they get snippy with each other again. ‘Who sent you?’

Your customer crosses his arms, and you can’t help noticing the fabric of his shirt stretching across those broad shoulders. ‘Blondie.’

‘Blondie?’ you frown, confused. ‘Oh wait, you mean Ben? I thought I recognised you. I’ve seen you at one of his fights, with your wife? What’s her name now -’

‘Tess,’ he replies, then promptly looks like he wishes he’d stopped himself before he answered. ‘She’s not my -’ he trails off, and it’s clear he doesn’t like how you’re reading him at the moment, grumbling, ‘None of your damn business.’

‘Hey, you watch your mouth around my lady, old man,’ warns Frankie, ratcheting up the tension again.

Squaring his shoulders, the man seems to grow two inches. ‘Or what?’

Suddenly aware of being caught in the crossfire between your protective husband on one side, and this gruff, silvered stranger on the other, heat bubbles unbidden under your skin, the unexpected reaction from your body catching you off guard.

Biting your lower lip, you clear your throat, and somehow you sound steadier than you feel when you dispense the orders. 

‘Ok, this is enough. Frankie, sit down over there,’ you say, pointing him in the direction of the couch on the other side of the room. ‘And you - since you’re Benny’s friend, two ration cards.’

‘’M not his friend,’ he almost spits out that last word, as if it tastes weird.

You give him a pointed look. ‘Three ration cards, then.’

He huffs, and hands you two from his back pocket. ‘Fine, I’m Benny’s friend.’

You grin. ‘If you’re besties, it’s one.’

‘Don’t push it.’

You back off with a chuckle. ‘Fine, not besties. Maybe next time. Now sit.’

Joel does as he’s told, awkwardly, in the styling chair, a relic from the pre-outbreak days. It creaks dangerously under his weight, and it wobbles, slightly off-kilter. The cracked leather is warm from the sun, which seeps into his skin, and he finds himself wondering when was the last time he went to a hair salon.

Sarah used to love cutting his hair. She always made an afternoon out of it on one of his rare days not working overtime, putting the music on, setting up her Barbie mirror on the dining room table, and having him pick out a hairstyle from a magazine (it never looked anywhere near like the photos). She’d even put a disposable raincoat over him like a hairdresser’s cape. She really wasn’t any good, there’s a reason why Tommy didn’t let her anywhere near his curls, but he always wore her handiwork with pride -

So lost in his thoughts, he reacts purely on instinct when, for the first time in decades, fingers other than his own find his hair.

Swivelling around, he’s out of the chair in a split second, fingers wrapped tight around your wrists. You yelp as he pushes you back against the wall, which he sees from the shape of your lips but doesn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears.

Joel barely holds you there for a second before he’s yanked backwards by a hand on the back of his collar, and he stumbles, crashing into the adjacent wall. He barely misses the fist heading towards his face, ducking just in time to save himself what would undoubtedly have been a broken nose.

He barrels into the younger man with his shoulder, expecting him to tumble back, and is surprised when he doesn’t budge. Joel’s aware he’s got a few years on him, but he more than holds his own against punks that age on the daily. This guy clearly has a background in combat, and it’s taking Joel everything to stay on his feet.

In the meantime, you’re still plastered against the wall, dazed by your customer’s reaction. Heck, you haven’t even gotten his name yet before he literally jumped you. He’s a skittish one, that’s for sure. 

You smile at the memory of Frankie’s first time with you at the salon - he’d give this guy a good run for his money. Lucky for him, you’ve always been good at wrangling the nervous ones.

Speaking of, the two men are now literally wrestling in front of you. If you had to venture a guess by the grays in the hair, you reckon your customer is pushing fifty. He’s built like a fucking tank though, and he’s giving everything he’s got.

So you decide to watch for a little while. Boys will be boys, best leave them to let off some steam. Leaning against the wall, you get comfortable, and you think wistfully to yourself that Ashton would have loved this view.

You’re not sure how you missed that they’re both wearing denim on denim, and you would struggle to pick out which is your husband if not for the hat on his head. Yes, the damn cap survived the apocalypse with him.

They are remarkably similar in build, though your customer seems to stand just a couple of inches taller. His biceps flex and bulge through the shirt sleeves as he scuffles with Frankie, teeth bared; meanwhile, your husband plants his feet, jeans stretched tight over his adorable little ass, trying to hold the man back long enough to throw a punch.

If the room was warm when they were trading barbs, it’s positively sweltering right now.

All you can see are broad shoulders and fabric bursting at the seams, grappling fingers and clenched fists. Back muscles rippling through denim, teasing slivers of skin and soft bellies when shirttails ride up and jeans fall low. The cheerful afternoon sun kisses their skin golden, casting long shadows across the creaking wooden floor.

And they’re not quiet. Throaty grunts as they jostle, panted breath peppered with cusses, fuck’s and sons of bitches as they wrestle for control.

Suddenly, you’re the one who’s out of breath despite not moving a muscle.

As much as you would’ve loved to stand and watch, you can tell both men are starting to get winded. You don’t exactly want the show to end, entertainment is hard to come by in the QZ, let alone of such a visually stimulating variety, in your own living room. But you think you hear the older man wheeze, their shirts are now stained with sweat, and the frantic energy they started with turns heavy with lethargy.

With a rueful sigh, you speak up, ‘Frankie, come on, that’s enough now.’

He growls, ‘No fucking way. He tried to hurt you!’

‘He barely touched me. It was just his PTSD acting out.’

‘I don’t have PTSD,’ the man protests, shooting you a glare before dodging an elbow.

‘There’s no shame in having PTSD,’ you admonish him. ‘Or in getting help.’

‘Why don’t you give me a hand then?’ he scoffs, tipping his head at Frankie.

‘Yeah, looks like you can use it,’ your husband taunts him.

‘Sure you can’t, asshole? Can’t even take down an old man on your own?’

‘I hope you're hungry, 'cause you're gonna eat your words, asshole -’

Hands on hips, you roll your eyes at the exceedingly average trash talk. ‘You know what? I tried asking nicely - I’m going in.’

It’s a tight squeeze, but somehow, you find a space between the elbows and shoulders and knees, and you wedge yourself in. It’s hot and humid between the two men, who are still trying to get at each other, despite the fact that you now have one hand on each of their chests, trying to pry them apart. Trapped between the two solid walls of chest, their raw strength vibrates through you, through harsh panting breath, the musk of sweat and man, and denim rubs rough on your bare skin where you’re pressed up against them.

It’s not hard to imagine being in this position in an entirely different situation, with the axis tilted, on a softer surface. Heat prickles all over you like needles, and unbeknownst to you, your thighs press together, and your panties start to feel sticky -

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ asks Frankie, incredulous as he looms over you, still grabbing onto the other guy’s shirt.

You bat your eyelashes at him, then crane your neck over your shoulder to wink at the other man. A little spiral of a curl dangles over his eyes as he glares at you, puffs of warm air hitting the shell of your ear. 

Knowing that your best chance of breaking off this nonsense is to wildly offend both men, you purr, ‘Making a delicious sandwich ‘cause I’m famished -’

Frankie flushes bright red instantly, and he roars, ‘Get your filthy hands off my wife, son of a bitch!’

Not that his hands are anywhere near you (a tragedy), nonetheless, the man jumps five feet back, as if you burned him. He may deny Tess being his wife, but the look of absolute horror of being accused of touching you speaks volumes.

You can tell he would have doubled over catching his breath, hands on his knees, if not for his pride. Stubbornly, he stands tall, hands on hips, chest heaving.

‘Bit jumpy, are we?’ you quip.

‘You always that handsy?’ he retorts.

‘Can’t help myself with beautiful curls like yours,’ you wink, and your smile widens when he flushes.

Frankie throws up his hands in disbelief. ‘Shiv, I’m standing right here.’

‘You always are,’ you tease, pressing a kiss to his pinched lips. ‘Now, go take a walk, you've made enough of a scene.’

‘I’m not leaving you here with him -’

The older man scoffs. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your woman.’

You feign indignation. ‘Hey! That’s hurtful.’

‘You should be, jackass!’ Frankie gripes, and promptly looks as confused as the other man at his own pronouncement.

Taking his hand, you pull him towards the door. ‘Go on babe, you were going to have a drink with Pope anyway. I got everything under control.’

‘Alright,’ Frankie relents, but not before he points a menacing finger at your customer. ‘If he tries anything -’

‘I know where the gun is,’ you finish his sentence.

Pressing one final kiss to your lips and throwing a glare over your shoulder, Frankie turns and leaves - and you preen at the knowledge that he trusts you can take care of yourself.

Once the door closes, you smile. ‘So… should we start over?’

 The man snorts. ‘I’d say.’

‘I’m Shiv,’ you say, but you don’t offer him your hand. He doesn’t seem to be the handshaking type.

He picks up on your perception, studying you with curious eyes. ‘Joel.’

Pushing the swivel chair back to the styling station, you gesture at him to retake his seat, and this time, you make sure his eyes are on yours in the mirror while you stand over his shoulder.

‘Hair’s a bit long, huh?’ you remark, eyeing the ringlet over his eyes.

‘It’s drivin’ me nuts,’ he admits.

You hold up your hands this time, giving him plenty of notice. ‘May I?’

He nods, and you start small, wrapping the spiral around your index finger with a grin. ‘I wasn’t just saying it, y’know. You do have beautiful hair.’

He shifts awkwardly, the chair squeaking, obviously uncomfortable with compliments. ‘Dunno. I’m all gray and shit.’

‘As someone wise once said, grays are sexy as fuck,’ you assure him. Running your fingers through his curls, you study the texture critically, noting the blunt ends and uneven thickness. Nothing a professional haircut can’t fix. ‘Trust me, I’m very wise.’

He hums, unconvinced, but you can see the lines around his eyes crease in amusement. ‘If you say so.’

You wink at him in the mirror. ‘When I’m done with you, Tess will have the hardest time keeping her hands to herself.’

‘What makes you think she doesn’t already?’

It takes you a moment to unfreeze, stunned by his retort. At his arched eyebrow, you burst into laughter. ‘You’re a sassy one, aren’t you, Joel?’

He huffs, half-amused, and shakes his head. ‘It’s a haircut, not a miracle.’

You squeeze his shoulder, grinning when he doesn’t jump at the contact. ‘Trust me, I’m just that good at my job.’

More notes: If you enjoyed this oneshot, I wrote a series of drabbles of Shiv giving other Pedro boys haircuts - you can find them in the Grays masterlist 🩶 I may write more for this universe and some point if inspiration strikes again, thank you for reading!

And if you wanted an inspo shot of Joel's hair, here you go ❤️

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#seams x grays #fuckyeahgrays #fuckyeahseams #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #joel miller fanfiction