#i want to read more stuff with benny in it

[pullhisteeth]

classified | eddie munson x reader

summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]

contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).

author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!

-

Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.

It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.

So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins. 

Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).

He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.

He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.

Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.

The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.

"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.

"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."

-

The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.

Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.

And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.

And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.

By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.

From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.

His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.

Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.

Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.

The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all. 

When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.

"Hello?"

He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.

"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."

"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.

"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"

"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"

"I'm twenty-three."

You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.

"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."

He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."

He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.

You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"

"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"

"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.

He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.

"Y'still there?"

"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.

"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."

You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.

After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"

"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"

He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.

"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."

You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.

You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."

Can't argue with that logic.

"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?

"How do you want to do this?"

"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"

"What?"

"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.

"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.

"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.

"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."

"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.

"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Eddie. Munson."

"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.

That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.

It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.

There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.

What if you're great?

He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.

He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.

He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.

One hour.

-

He's early.

It's ten to six, and he's early.

The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?

Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.

Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.

"Eddie?"

He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.

You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.

You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.

As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.

You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.

"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.

"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."

"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.

"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.

"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.

He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.

"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.

"What?"

"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"

With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.

"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."

"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."

"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.

"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."

Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."

"Oh."

You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.

You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.

Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.

He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.

You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.

"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.

"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."

"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"

"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."

He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"

You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.

"Okay."

"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."

"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"

"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."

"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."

"Okay," you sigh.

"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."

"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.

"So did you grow up here?"

Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.

"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."

"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.

"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."

"And you got the job?"

"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."

"How's that going?"

"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."

He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."

He looks up at you. "Do your worst."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.

"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."

"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"

"Kind of, but that's also complicated."

"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?

You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.

"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.

You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.

It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.

"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."

He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.

You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.

There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.

"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"

All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.

He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.

"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.

"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."

When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.

His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.

"I've never been this close to anyone before."

He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.

"That's okay."

There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"

You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.

It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.

"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.

"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.

The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.

When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.

"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.

"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.

"You alright?"

You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.

"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.

"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.

"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.

"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."

"How so?"

He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch. "I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"

For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.

"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."

Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.

"What the fuck, dude?" 

You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.

"I didn't-"

"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."

"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."

"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.

You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.

He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.

"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.

"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"

His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.

He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.

"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."

"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."

He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.

"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."

"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.

"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.

It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?

"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."

You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.

"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."

"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.

You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.

"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.

"Go on."

"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."

"Can I sit on your lap?"

"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.

"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."

"Go for it, baby."

He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.

It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.

"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"

"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.

"'Course you are, here-"

His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."

"Oh, for fu-"

He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.

It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.

You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.

You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.

"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.

"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.

"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.

His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"

His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.

"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"

You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."

He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.

"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."

You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.

"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."

"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."

"Okay."

You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.

"Shit," he hisses.

"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.

"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."

The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.

This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.

His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.

You trace them with gentle fingers.

"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.

"Okay."

You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.

You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.

As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."

You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."

There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.

He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.

"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"

You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up. 

And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.

"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."

One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"

"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.

He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.

When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.

"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.

"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.

"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.

There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.

You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.

His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.

"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."

He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.

But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.

"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.

"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.

"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."

You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.

"Christ, yes, okay."

His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.

You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.

"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.

"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.

"Yes, yeah."

Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.

His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.

You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.

Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.

They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.

The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.

He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.

The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.

The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.

"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"

It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.

"No," you pant, "no, never."

"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay," you agree.

He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.

"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"

"I, uh…"

"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."

Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.

It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.

"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.

With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.

You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.

You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.

"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.

You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.

"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.

All you can say is, "That was insane."

He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"

"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.

He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.

"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"

It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.

"Uh, yeah, okay."

He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."

"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."

"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."

Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.

"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.

"Yes, ma'am."

Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.

He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.

"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.

"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."

He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.

"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him. 

"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.

It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.

"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."

You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.

So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.

"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"

He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.

"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"

You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.

When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.

With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.

"You got condoms?"

"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."

"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."

His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square. 

He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.

It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.

He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"

He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"

You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."

"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.

He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.

"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."

"I've got you."

He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.

The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.

"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.

When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.

"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.

"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."

"Okay."

The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.

As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.

"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."

His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.

"You close?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.

All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.

There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."

When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"

You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.

The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.

"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.

He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.

"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.

There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.

You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.

"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"

"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.

"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."

"Is it a date?"

"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."

"No one's ever asked me on a date before."

He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.

He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.

"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.

"You should," he says, a little deflated.

You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.

"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"

"I can go now, if you want-"

"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"

Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.

"I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.

"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.

"I'll be here."

-

"Munson! You made it!"

In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.

He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.

"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."

"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.

"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."

"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.

"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.

"Hi."

"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.

Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.

"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.

Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.

And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.

"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"

"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.

"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time. 

"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."

"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."

The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.

He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.

-

Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!

#ha ha I am sorry! #god it's long #I hope you love it <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie stranger things

[miloformula123fan]

Full fic??

I’ve read that Logan S. felt really lonely being the only American in F1. Like, he wasn’t completely accepted in the grid. Maybe he has an overprotective older sister who is a professional soccer player (like World Cup level good) who finally has time to attend his races. She dislikes most of the grid, except Alex and Oscar, for how they treated her brother. quick to defend Logan and even as far as annihilate them during the annual driver soccer match to prove a point. Im thinking G. Russel pairing due to Logan living in England. he wins her over by treating logan right, acknowledging he could have been welcoming, etc. Just a thought!

OKAY I HONESTLY LOVED THIS! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE (let me know if you want a part 2, because it is a bit of an interesting ending haha)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

edit: i wrote part 2 - it is here

part 3 is here

George Russell x reader, logan sargeant x sister!reader

---

Y/N loves her brother, she really does. Yeah, she’s tried to get to a few of his F2 rounds, but with her soccer taking her around the world, she has had very little time. She has the entire month off though, so what better to do than visit her brother at his home grand prix. Miami is always a party, so maybe she could let loose for a bit, try and relax, and find a guy.

This is quickly vetoed when she finds Logan cooped up in his drivers room. While most people would think that he was excited for the race, most people weren’t Logan’s sister. She could tell he was thinking too hard about something, and it wasn’t good.

“Hey Logie Bear! Whatcha thinking about?” She tried to appear happy, but she could see that Logan’s smile did not reach his eyes

“Nothing, just excited for the race, the car is quick, just aiming for some points, hoping for a safety car. The garage is over there, sorry I have to warm up.” Y/N looked up as Benny entered the room and Logan stood up. She could tell how closed up he was, how he didn’t want to talk at all

“Okay, we’ll talk after the race Logan! Good luck, you'll smash it!” Y/N walked out of the drivers room towards the garage seeing the chaos of it.

Y/N watched as Logan apologised over again and again to his engineer for not making up any more places. She stood there listening to his engineer reassure her younger brother. She eventually decided that she couldn’t listen to it anymore and decided to wait in his garage room.

When he walked in, Y/N could tell he wasn’t sure whether to throw stuff or cry. 

“Hey, hey, come here! It’s okay, it’s okay!” She opened her arms and sat down as Logan fell down into them and hugged her baby brother, as he started talking the words just rushed out

“I just wanted to prove that I deserve to be here, feel like I’m a part of the paddock.” Logan hugged his sister back tightly, hesitating slightly.

“What do you mean? Of course you’re a part of the paddock, you’ve got your seat, y’know?” Y/N was confused as to what her brother meant, from what she had seen, he was welcomed warmly by everyone.

“Yeah but, I’m never invited to the grid parties, no one really ever talks to me, except Alex and Oscar, and Oscar is getting into the rest of the grid through Lando, and Alex is only really talking to me because I mean, he’s my teammate we have to be friends, and I just want everyone to like me… so I thought maybe if I got some points and good overtakes, then people would like me..”

“Oh, Logie… It’ll be okay. If they don’t like you then I think they’re just idiots, but they won’t. They’ll warm up to you, I promise.”

---

George watched as Y/N sprinted up and down. Okay the F1 team was never going to win, particularly when multiple women who were playing in the world cup were playing on the opposition team, but ‘Sargeant’  (who also had the same name as the rookie driver this year, who was sitting in the stands) was dominating, she had more goals then all of the f1 team, so of course the celebrity team won 4-1. She’d almost immediately jumped into the stands once the referee blew the whistle and started talking to Logan, maybe the kid got married young and just didn’t want anyone to realise. 

Although she looked quite similar to Logan, so maybe his sister instead. Either way, she did not seem to like them, she called them all dickheads and shoved them over a few times. George’s knees were sore. But she was still pretty. So he approached Logan and the girl.

“Hello! I’m George and…’

“I’m pretty sure my brother knows your name, Georgie! Why don’t you say hello to him?”

“Y/N-”

“No. Say hi to Logan, George.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, almost forced.

“Hey Logan! Looking forward to the grand prix this weekend?”

“Uhhhh… yeah. ” He turned back to Y/N “I’ve got some stuff to do, so you can make your way back. See ya!”

As soon as Logan was out of listening range, Y/N pulled George in and started whispering, “Listen, I don’t know what problem you have my brother, but you need to get over it ASAP, understood?”

“I.. don’t have a problem with your brother.”

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

George stood there, mouth gaping as she stormed off to grab her bag and then sprinted after Logan. He could almost hear the f1 team laughing at his failed attempt at flirting, but all he could think about ‘was what she said true?’’

---

Y/N was going to cry.

She could see Logan in the family and friends box, hands over his mouth, eyes glassy.

That corner kick should’ve gone in, she thought, we had so many chances and we still fucked it all. Couldn’t even give Megs a proper farewell.

She walks slowly over to her younger brother and let his arms wrap around her

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Dragged you halfway ‘round the world when you should’ve been training only to lose the first game.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Go pack up, we can head home and spend some time in London relaxing. I’ve got next week off before I need to be back in the factory.”

—

Y/N was awoken by a knock on the front door. Hearing Logan snoring from his bedroom, she got up off the couch, rubbing her eyes and opened the door.

Of all the people she was expecting to see, George Russell would’ve been just about the last on her list “Uhh, hey?”

“Oh, morning! Is your brother up?”

Y/n paused for a moment to let George hear the snores coming from Logan’s bedroom. “Yeah, no, sorry. I can pass on a message?”

“Oh, No I was just going to offer if he was still up to go on a morning jog with him, but as he isn’t…”

“You been doing this often?”

“Almost every week we’ve been in town. I don’t think he understands what or why I’m doing this. But, he’s a good kid, opens up a bit when you talk to him. He likes you, respects you a lot for 2 siblings pursuing their sport across the globe.”

“I’ll make some breakfast and you can stay til Logan wakes up, okay? As a thanks for looking out for him. Hard for me to do from across the globe.” Y/N looked tense, with an almost forced smile. She looked awkward, before stepping back, holding the door open so George could come in.

---

“LOGAN SARGEANT!”

“Hello, dear sister, what do you want?”

“YOU GOT POINTS!”

“I think you must have watched a different grand prix, I got P12.”

“Hamilton and Leclerc got disqualified, something about wood, but you got points!”

“OH MY! AHHH! I had no idea, oh god!”

“YEAH! MY LITTLE BRO FINALLY GETTING F1 POINTS! WOOHOO! We must celebrate when we’re both in town!”

“AHH! Shit, wait I think people are coming in, give me a sec.

You’re on speaker dear sis, Alex, Oscar and George are here.”

“HELLO OSCAR! HI ALEX! HI GEORGE! DID SOMEONE BRING CHAMPAGNE???”

---

Y/N looks at the buzzing phone on her bedside table. Well clearly she had grabbed Logan’s phone before bed last night. She looked at the contact name

‘George - probably calling about something from the GDPA.’

She picked up.

“Before you start talking, I’m not Logan and I have not signed any NDAs related to his contract so, don’t talk to me.”

“Hi Y/N, do you know where Logan is?” George’s voice was way too cheery for however fucking early it is right now.

“Yeah he’s in his bedroom, he grabbed my phone and I grabbed his, why?” Y/N swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, still rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, can you come answer the door?”

“The door, why?” Y/N got up, and walked to her front door and opened the door to …nothing.

“George, are you pulling a prank on me? There’s nothing at the door.”

“You haven’t opened the door!”

“George… Logan and I are in Florida for Christmas. I’m guessing you’re in London.”

“Oh…yes. Bugger. I came to congratulate him on his contract renewal and so now I’ve got food and flowers and stuff and he’s not here!”

“If you go round the block to 20 XXX Close, there’s a single mom there, who will appreciate some Christmas cheer Georgie.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll send it over.”

“Why were you congratulating Logan, George? I didn’t think you cared. Only Alex and Oscar have reached out so far.”

“I..I remember what you said at the soccer match, about Logan feeling ostracised by all of us. So I’ve been trying to make him feel welcomed… not just because you said that, and I like you, but also because I kinda realised we’d all be failing him as a grid, so i thought if I started it, maybe others would catch on. It didn’t work, but I think he feels more included.”

“That’s very nice of you Georgie. I’ll pass on your congrats. Now it’s like 7am here, and I didn’t need to be awake today, so i will be heading back to bed. Night Georgie boy.”

#f1 fic #miloformula123fan #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant x you #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell x you

[undercoverpena]

iv. anchor me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. hand stuff (f receiving), illusions to the past, bi!frankie.

an: thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this after bake off and telling me that i can do the thing.

wordcount: 3.4k

The moment Benny’s (insistent) invite landed in your messages, you had expected the one from Frankie.

Phone in hand, tapping your foot, counting, barely making it to 30 seconds before the banner slid down your screen. Because, of course, the can’t-say-no invitation was on the day the two of you had a scheduled thing.

Unsurprisingly, his simmering annoyance hadn’t vanished when he came to pick you up—another thing insisted—and you came out to meet him.

I’ll pick you up. I can drive there and meet you, save you coming across town. I‘m picking you up. Means I get to make sure you get home okay.

The sound of the car door slamming into place as you lock up, turning to walk towards his vehicle to find him eyeing you up in a way that makes your cheeks burn and you want to hide your face.

He keeps having that effect on you.

Make heat lick up your spine, your brain forget its sentence or thought, and your eyes find themselves unable to stop dropping to his lips .

It’s why it takes all your strength to say, “Eyes up here, Morales.”

He does, although he does take a second. Licking his lips, before doing exactly that. “Do I tell you enough that you look good?”

Laughing, you roll your eyes. More for him. An act, a pretence. Because you’re trying to seem unfazed—attempting to ignore it, the flutters of wings in your stomach.

Having to focus on it more and more when he stops in front of you, the bill of his hat shielding his eyes from the sun, allowing you to see how they drink you in, swallow you. Practically smothering you in simmering heat that makes you want to tear your clothes from your skin.

“You’ve mentioned it a lot lately.”

He doesn’t move, a thing which makes the wings flutter worse. More intense. Practically beating them as you stare at him, fighting the urge to wrap your fingers around the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours.

To have him. Kiss him.

Remembering as you shift in your shoes, that you’re not with him. This is all an arrangement, a plan—a schedule, a date each week (or two) that Benjamin Miller fucked up.

Nudging him, you wink. “C’mon, I want first dibs of the food Will is cooking before you lot leave me with the scraps.”

You were outside in the backyard an hour, before a water gun soaks you.

Benny’s—of course—a stupid gift you’d purchased him, now used on the neighbours’ kids, with you caught in the crossfire.

By the time you’ve realised, you’re being flooded with apologies. Each coming from Benny’s tongue tenfold, rushing over as though he’d sprayed you in bullets and not water.

Your discussion with Will all but ended with a gasp as you stared down at your now transparent shirt. Watching his eyes lift up, trying not to glance or look.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I was—and then—let me show you where the towels are—“

You’re not sure who you laugh at more: Will or Benny. Holding a hand up, accepting one of the many apologies that fall, waving it all off, as your eyes scan the other guests, not finding the one pair of eyes you really want.

“It’s fine—can I, borrow something?” you ask, dropping your voice, “There’s kids around.”

Before Benny has even finished nodding, you make a beeline for the house. The one you know. You’ve been here enough times, dipping in through the side door, feeling your top cling to your skin more uncomfortably than it had outside.

That’s when you stare outside. Noticing that the gathering was closer to a party, it all loud and busy—even from inside. Suddenly grateful for the cover to spend a minute cooling off in the house. An excuse merged with gratefulness when you could hide and slide your shades off—wanting a drink, water, ice.

Suddenly needing a second.

Because all you’d done is eye-fuck your friend. The one you’ve seen naked—the one who looks more than good, and fucks even better.

The one, you suddenly can’t spot.

The glass in your palm lets condensation droplets slide down your wrist. The rim against your bottom lip, staring out at the people laughing, smaller kids being chased by Benny and his water gun. Eyes scanning, nervousness bubbling, mind beginning to worry you’re about to see him with someone else.

Like you have done so many times before .

You’re so lost in it, you don’t hear him, never mind feel him, until his arm snakes around your waist. The man you’d been missing—the one who’d been burning holes into your spine, but never coming over.

Now, though, he’s all warm mouth again to your ear, a whispered shh, as he peels your glass from your hands.

“You’re all wet, querida. We best get you dry.”

And then you’re walking, being led. Moving with ease as Frankie—who you hadn’t even seen come inside—was wrapping his fingers inside yours. Leading you, down the familiar hallway you’d helped paint several years ago, to the bedroom you still called Frankie’s, even if he hadn’t lived here in years.

You remember when you‘d knock on the very door to call for him, or hang out on the other side of the frame.

Frankie and Benny had shared this space before Frankie had found his own. The offer of your spare room had not been good enough—even if he painted it in, not wanting to be an inconvenience. How you’d sit on the bed that’s now for guests, perched, waiting for him before the two of you grabbed food or visited the movies. Simple things—friend things.

It isn’t like that today. His mouth slants over yours as soon as you’re both alone, pressing your back to the wall, devouring, licking into your mouth as you gasp.

Because the two of you could be caught. A shudder spreading out at the idea. The thought of the door being thrown open, making you groan into his mouth.

But, you’re not sure you’d care if you did.

You don’t fucking care if they all found you like this.

Lost, whimpering, desperate—all for him.

Not at his hand places itself around the base of your neck—lightly touching, pressing the smallest amount of pressure down, as he hushes your soft moans. His finger resting against your chin, the others slowly bury themselves in your underwear, giving you more reasons to be loud than be quiet—not something close to friend things.

“You been thinkin’ about me?”

The yes leaves your lips, but it is swallowed by a moan. It travelling from somewhere deep, flowing up, rippling out as you begin to writhe against his touch. Your eyes fixed on his—drowning in brown, sinking in as he curls his fingers inside of you. Beckoning, pleading with you to hand him what it is he wants.

Fuck, you want to give it to him. Had done from the moment you’d arrived, pulled up in the space outside Benny’s home—the former fixer-upper, turned dream house.

Frankie always looked good, even if his wardrobe was minimal. The back of him easy to pick out from a crowd, so broad you’re sure you could draw it with your eyes closed. You’ve stared at it so much—and that was before this all began. This, whatever this mutually beneficial thing is between the two of you, neither of you will properly name.

It’s why you kiss him, needing to taste his groan, lather your tongue in the way he says your name. Pronounces it. It more noticeable when your hand cups him—greeted by the hard outline of him against your palm, all noticeable, barely contained by his cargo pants.

“—tan bonita,” he croaks, throwing your hand away before placing it back to cup your cheek, forcing your head to his, the base of his palm catching your bundle of nerves as he slows his ministrations. “Be good for me, querida. And just focus on being quiet.”

A chaste kiss pressed, a signature on the dotted line—one you agree to as you chase his lips. Just tasting the beer-tinged air of his breath as he continues to bury his fingers inside of you. The sounds of it so vulgar, loud, barely muffled by the strangled whimpers you try to keep back.

“So good for me, tan perfecta.”

Your eyes close, lashes clenching. His whispered words make it harder to stay quiet, to be the thing he’s just told that you are.

And the worst is, you know he knows it. Can feel his smirk against your jaw, the way the tip of his tongue swirls over your pulse as his hip pins you in place, his fingers continuing their wanted assault, keeping your feet rooted to the ground, head barely able to think about anything but this.

“Please,” you ask.

Eyes open, capturing his. Hooking in. Watching him drink it in, your request—your ask.

“Alright baby, I’ve got you,” he whispers, more breath than words, right against your cheek, finger drawing circles against your clit. “Always got you, haven’t I?”

It’s electric, and also fire. It surges and licks up your spine as you nod. As your throat goes dry, sound goes fuzzy, before he’s good—to you, for you. Alternating between filling you with the same fingers that built your furniture.

“Doing so well for me,” he says, nose against your cheek, fingers pumping—

In and out.

In and out.

“Be good though, let me feel you squeeze my fingers—wanna feel you come, querida. Please. Please.”

Your eyes clench, feeling both nothing and everything. Because someone could walk in. Your teeth bite into your lip as you try to keep back the chants of his name. His fingers are so deep, feeling so good.

“Let go, querida.”

It falls from his lips like honey. Sweet. Almost sticky in how it clings to the air as your eyes open, finding him.

The first thing you think is: earlier was nothing on the way he’s staring at you now.

Doing more than devouring, he’s drowning in you—likely unaware you’re doing the same with him.

Each nerve illuminated, your ears slowly buzzing louder and louder as you crash your mouth to his and lick into his mouth as you still, tense and writhe all at once.

Then you are stars, feel yourself unknotting, all at once. In the bedroom that used to be his.

Frankie shouldn’t like seeing you in an old t-shirt of his, but he does.

Unable to tear his eyes away from you as he leads you to two seats, your laugh flowing—something he said under his breath, now forgotten, still swirling through you, forcing your eyes to close and your fingers to dig into his forearm.

He likes you like this—has always liked your laugh.

Blissfully aware that he should, but shit, he can’t take his eyes off you. Even if he knows he needs to—plenty of eyes around, ones who have always teased, always taunted.

You’d be so good together. You pair are so cute.

The comments go on, and on. Have done for years.

Except now, you’re dressed in him.

To most, it’s a simple, old tee splattered with paint. To him, it’s when the group of them painted Ben’s house. His eyes having drank you in, wishing he could wash the paint from your legs, unsure how you’re covered in as much as the wall.

Your clumsiness having painted itself against you, your own clothes ruined, before you’d purposefully (and intentionally) splattered yourself against him when you’d come in for a ‘hug’.

Now, you’re sitting next to him, curled under one leg, shades hiding where your eyes are—but he hopes they’re on him—wishing you’d be on him.

“You dry, querida?”

“Oh, jodete.”

Smirking, he takes a sip of his drink. Licking the front of his teeth, leaning forward.

“Rather fu—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Your tongue traces the bottom of your lip, slowly shaking your head. A part of him wanting to pull you close, have you in his lap. Fuck everything and just give in and—

“So,” Will announces. Suddenly there. Blocking the sun, pointing at an empty chair before he sits beside you.

And Frankie drowns his throat in beer.

He listens, while staring off, as Will asks how your friend is—when she’s back in town, because Ben won’t. You knotting and unknotting the end of the tee around your finger, chatting and chatting.

Something tightening inside of him when he catches sight of you, from the corner of his eye, throwing your head back as Will makes you laugh. Him trying not to grimace each time his friend does so.

Because Will is his friend.

A good one, a great one. Yet, when it comes to you, he always feels inferior. Less than. Somehow more broken more than—

“Fish?”

Will’s voice drags him from his thoughts, blinking. Thumb tracing the neck of his bottle as he nods.

“I said have you heard from Pope?”

He tenses. Frankie feels himself still. Back all straight.

The question cuts through his bubbling thoughts. Suddenly aware of the sound of his own heart in his ears. That knotted ball of things, the one full of rope, strings, steel wire, as it all tightens inside his chest—and in his stomach.

Worst of all, he then feels your eyes land on him. Searching, cutting through the sheets he throws up as walls, desperate to press something warm to him, keep him rooted.

He takes a breath, feeling you willing him to. Appeasing you, even if you’ve not asked verbally, finding himself easily able to.

It’s always easy with you.

Just like it was the night he told you. Confessed it. Whispered it out on the floor, his back to the wall in the same bedroom he just had pressed you against.

I’d suspected it, honestly.

Your fingers brushing, carding through his curls until you pulled his head into your chest. A whole other sea of emotions bubbling, both of his long loves out of reach—even if one had their fingers buried in his curls, attempting to soothe him. The rest of his confession dying on his tongue, letting it rot, fester.

Because that one was and still is harder to confess.

It desperate to escape. Almost coming out the night you’d suggested he found you repulsive. Not knowing how wrong you were—

“Um…” you murmur, eyes digging further into him, practically clawing. Not to hurt, but to pull him back. “I don’t think I have—not since before?”

Frankie swallows. His heart hammering heavier, lifting his eyes and landing on you—and it all goes calm. Your face, like it always has been, is like a blanket that smothers the leftover hurt and anguish, an anchor that roots him in place.

“N-no. Not heard a thing,” he says, as plain as possible. Direct. Trying to hide the shake.

Because he can still feel your eyes on him. Focused, unwilling to leave his face as Will mutters and mumbles about something until he’s shouted away, beckoned by an overzealous neighbour, Frankie plants a smile on for, not moving to greet or speak to.

You say nothing.

But you do lift your shades. Smothering him in warmth and kindness, and a bit of sorrow too. Your teeth nursing the skin on your bottom lip, picking and picking.

Fuck he wishes he could tell you.

He wishes he could tell you that Pope knew—knows. Had already guessed it. Teased him on it before he dragged it out of him in the cold, rainy depths of Colombia.

You just have a thing for friends, Fish. That it!

It had ripped from his throat then. Shooting, spitting in mixed English and Spanish as he told Pope his feelings for you—how long they’d been there.

How they were messy. The same as his feelings had been for him. That they churned and turned for months with the conflicting ones he had for him.

That it has shaped him—the thing that neither of them talk about, but had let happen the handful of times it did.

And now he was repeating himself, but differently. This time, he suspected there was something more there. Something there in your eyes in the moments after he’s brought you to pleasure, it twinkling, it licking into his mouth when you kiss him, softer, desperate in a different way.

“Are you okay?”

“Come to mine. Tonight. After.”

You release your bottom lip. Staring. Thinking. “Are you going to take me home after?”

He tries not to let his face shift, but he fails. It falls and drops out over his features as you take a sip from the bottle in your hand.

“Frank…”

“You like my bed.”

You roll your eyes, brow slightly arched. You’re faking annoyance, he can tell. He can tell because you’re ticking, pondering. Weighing up the options of what difference one night would make to your principles.

“It’s not because of that.”

“No?” you say, arched brow and laced in sarcasm.

Fuck, he wants to take your hands. Pull them to his face. Because he doesn’t feel like that for him anymore. He hasn’t. Not for a long time.

Not since before he showed up with his plan, and his lies, and his mission that ended with Redfly’s death.

He wanted to let it roll from his tongue that he meant it that first night. That he has hated all of your exes for the reason you must think, deep down—the one you’re unwilling to question or acknowledge for the same reasons he won’t.

Because he’s scared. Because he knows he’s only worthy of being a dirty secret—not something real. Not something stable and concrete, things you truly deserve.

And, he wants to respect your wishes, your rules. But, he also wants to wake up beside you in his bed. Wanting nothing more than to have his cake and eat it too, because how could he not? How could he not want you there for one morning, when he wants you there every single day?

That thought was the one he had shouted, it burning the air between him and the man he now doesn’t hear from.

You gonna tell her? Depends on if we fuckin’ get outta here, doesn’t it?

He didn’t. Even if he did make it out, make it back. You in his arms, sobbing, worries running from your mouth to his ear as he held you—silently sobbing into your shoulder for reasons he has never explained.

Which is precisely why he doesn’t reach for your hands. It’s why he lets the silence thicken before he answers.

Because he knows he loves you.

“No,” he says firmly.

Hoping it’ll be enough. Hoping the finality of the word will inform you that, if anything, it’s in spite of the memory of his former friend, former brother-in-arms, former…

“I live closer to here,” he shrugs. Not wanting to admit that it’s for any other reason. “Means we’d be quicker to—“

“Morales!” you cut him off.

All stern, cute—as though he hadn’t had his fingers buried inside of you half an hour ago in his old room.

“How have you been sleeping?”

It’s a simple question, easy. Your lips around the straw, draining your cup before placing it on the grass, next to his empty bottle.

His fingers reaching up, itching the front of his fringe under his hat—your eyes following his movements, holding on to them, adding them to the mental notebook you’ve likely made.

Frankie shouldn’t be surprised that you remembered. The trip that lasted more days than it should have and left its own marks on you, too. Scarred you in ways that you can’t explain or ever get rid of.

“Fine. I guess, just…”

“I know,” you say with a faint smile. Forced. Placed there to soothe him, but it doesn’t do much.

You don’t play with the radio.

You don’t even really talk. Just drumming your fingers on the door, staring outside, letting streets pass the two of you, until he pulls up outside his place.

All the way, he thinks about apologising.

For everything, and yet for nothing all at once. His eyes sliding over to you as he drove down roads, turned his chin a little more to gather more of you as he turned a corner.

You don’t look at him until he turns the engine off. Head rolling on the back of the seat, the softest, most beautiful smile on your lips—one he wants to taste, feel moulded to his mouth. Capture and steal it, in case he never gets the chance to again.

“If you say you’ll stay, you haven’t broken the rules,” he whispers.

It is all quiet, except for the little noises made by the car as it cools and relaxes from its journey here.

Frankie hears you swallow, and then sigh.

“Won’t I be?”

Shaking his head, he turns to face you on the plastic seat. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking soft lines, hoping it’ll ease you. Relax you.

“If you prefer me to take you home—“

Your eyes drop.

“—then I will. But…”

Your eyes flash back up to him, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Even under twinkling lights, he can see each fleck of colour in them.

“But?” you whisper.

And he drags his thumb across your skin. “I just really want you to stay, for tonight.”

Sliding your lips to the side, your fingers move over his, pressing his palm to your cheek, giving him a smile—a gentle one, reassuring, sweet. “I want the right side. When you let me sleep.”

Smirking, he nudges closer, going to kiss you, but finding himself pressing a kiss to your forehead—one brimming with a smile.

Only realising he’s done so when he retracts.

Little lines appearing in your brow, gone, vanished in the next second, because then you’re moving closer, your lips on his—and for a brief, but pleasant moment, he forgets all of this isn’t real.

Falls into it, lets himself live there as he runs his hand up your thigh, before he’s dragging it over his. Uncaring that there’s a bed some so many feet away, he just runs his hands over your cheeks, along your jaw, thumbs on your neck—as he groans against your mouth.

Swallowing your moan, he fights a smirk at the way you rock your hips against him. Hand moving to your hip, pinning you—chasing your lips before kissing you again, and again.

Not ever having enough. Always wanting more.

As he has done for years. As he’s thought about for years.

Because there may have been others, but since he let himself think it, it’s always been you. A notion he kisses against your lips, writing them with his tongue against yours, content, happy.

“Can’t wait to spread you out on my bed, querida.”

He feels your lips spread into a smirk against his. “Can’t wait to have your cock down my throat again, Morales.”

He groans. Loud, almost undignified. Unsure how he got to be so lucky. Your fingers digging into the base of his neck.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #jo: iltwy #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #francisco morales smut #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡my beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@kiyomi-uchiha777

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #my asks #aqua asks #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #genshin sagau imposter au #sagau imposter au #aqua imposter au #bk trashfire my beloved #im v sleepy and forgot so many extra tidbits reading this over now #but its too late i must sleep #here ill put one here #U make a fortune by making ur sauces and stuff and selling them thru Diluc #u and Diluc r acc gaslight gatekeep girlbossing ur way in Teyvat #sorry i made this abt Diluc #i just rrmmberd that plotline from that post so #ok goodnigh

[daddy-dins-girl]

First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

Taglist: @yorksgirl @chronically-ghosted @rav3n-pascal22 @suzdin @boliv-jenta @senaar-ika @nerdieforpedro @theywhowriteandknowthings @within-the-depths @axshadows @iamasaddie @macabremads @prolix-yuy @vickywallace @survivingandenduring

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie friday #frankie morales fanfiction

[rhoorl]

Strike a Pose

Pairing: Benny Miller x OFC Vanessa (Delta Landscaping Universe)

Word Count: 3.3k | AO3 Link

Delta Landscaping | Benny Miller Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Benny and Vanessa go on their first date. 

Warning: Benny Miller. That’s it. That’s the warning. No, but seriously, I think this is pretty fluffy. Vanessa has some insecurities about her body and a previous bad relationship.

A/N: This is an extended version of a scene from Chapter 15 of Delta Landscaping, but I think it could be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @trulybetty for answering a series of random questions mad libs style - I’ll share more at the end! Also to those reading Delta Landscaping, this does count towards our little bingo board…I hope you enjoy the latest Easter egg 😉

The drive over to the bowling alley was pleasant. Chatting with Benny was so easy and he constantly made me laugh. When I wasn’t laughing I was trying hard to not just stare at the guy – he looked so good. At one point, we stopped at a red light and he casually turned his hat backward and my breath hitched. I coughed to try and play it off. 

Saturday night at a popular bowling alley made for a packed parking lot and an even busier lobby. We walked up to check in and the woman at the counter told me that I didn’t have a reservation. I could have sworn I set it up, but I couldn’t find a confirmation email anywhere in my inbox. To make matters worse, she was giving me a pretty snotty attitude saying it would be at least a two-hour wait. 

I was so annoyed with myself, I’m usually better about stuff like this. Lord knows I love a plan. But Benny didn’t even bat an eye, he just told me to “Stay here darlin’” as he waltzed back over to the attendant who so rudely turned me away a few moments ago. He leaned against the counter and flashed a smile and some puppy dog eyes. It’s no wonder she folded and gave him whatever he wanted – shit, I would too.

He motioned for me to come over, “What size you got doll?”

“Ah, um….8 and a half if you have it?” I asked the woman, confused as to how they miraculously found us a lane.

The attendant gave me an up-and-down and looked at Benny before she turned around and plopped two pairs of shoes onto the counter. “Lane 22.” She said with a deadpan expression.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Benny winked. “C’mon, darlin’ let’s go,” Benny lightly laid his hand on the small of my back which sent goosebumps up my spine. 

“How’d you manage to find us a lane?”

“Well, you always catch more bees with honey,” he looked over with a smirk. 

“So a nice smile is honey now huh?” I quipped, the words coming out before I could think it through. 

“Oh I have a nice smile don’t I?” Benny chuckled. I averted my eyes, hoping that the warmth I was feeling in my cheeks wasn’t too apparent. “Here we go, lane 22. After you.”

We went to pick our bowling balls. I opted for a bright pink one pretty quickly, while Benny had to test several out. There’s a method to my madness he told me as he picked up ball after ball. I don’t know what came over me but watching his fingers slot into each…nevermind, I can’t think about that.

He eventually found one he liked and we started our game. It’s been years since I’ve done this but it was fun, even though I was playing with a ringer. I had more gutterballs than pins I knocked down, but Benny didn’t make me feel bad. It was sweet, actually. He tried to help me a couple of times, standing behind me, one hand lightly on my hip as he directed me where to aim. I honestly had no idea what he was saying, feeling his breath close to my ear it was a miracle I was still standing. 

We finished the first game just as our food arrived. Not only was it impressive that he bowled a perfect game, he did it with mostly trick shots. It was cute how he seemed to get excited trying to impress me. 

“Are you serious?” I shook my head. It was unfair, he wasn’t even looking at his last shot. His back was to the lane and he just let the ball fly behind him. He sauntered over to me with a big grin and a swagger that made me take an extra few sips of my water.

“Ooo yay, the food is here,” he rubbed his hands together, looking at the spread. I was a little self-conscious about ordering so much food, but he mentioned how training was making him hungry. 

“Wait wait!” I needed to take advantage and grab some photos. “Sorry, I um…one sec,” I bit my bottom lip as I pulled out my phone and started to rearrange the plates. I could see Benny out of the corner of my eye looking confused as I started taking photos. “Sorry…I am one of those people, annoying I know, but I figured tonight was a good excuse to start up my account again,” I finished my little impromptu photoshoot with a couple of quick videos to use for my stories. “Phone eats first,” I winked motioning that the coast was clear.

“What kind of account you have?”

“Oh, it’s just on Instagram…I started it a few years back…it’s a fun way to explore the food scene and…sorry this is all boring I’ll stop,” I laughed to myself.

“No, no, it’s not boring, I like it. I like food, clearly,” he motioned to the four plates in front of him which made me snort. “Lemme see, I wanna follow.” He motioned toward my phone with his chin.

I reluctantly handed him the phone and watched as he scrolled my account. My heart was racing wondering if he was going to think this was a stupid little hobby like Luce did. I saw his forehead scrunch and I felt a pit in my stomach, ready for the impending snide comment.

“What? I know I don’t always have the best lighting, I’ve been meaning to buy myself a little light thing and  - “

“No, hey,” he put his hand on my forearm, which sent an electric pulse up my body. I suddenly realized my sister was right and it was probably too warm for me to be wearing this flannel after all. “No this is great, these photos are beautiful…I just was wondering where you were.”

“What?”

“I don’t see you in any of these photos. Maybe your hands every once in a while, but how come you’re not in these?” He shook the phone as he turned it back to me.

There was a reason for that. It started off innocently enough, with one random troll making a comment about how I should spend less time going out to eat and more time on the treadmill. I could shake it off, one comment wasn’t going to bring me down. But as my account grew, the more of these I got – mostly from blank profiles. They didn’t even have the decency to show themselves, just letting their keyboards sling harmful words. So, I deleted every photo I was in, but eventually, that wasn’t enough so I just put a pause on the account. 

“Oh…I…um…I dunno I guess I’d rather have the focus be on the food,” I looked down, playing with the straw of her water. 

“Hmm…” Benny nodded, handing back my phone. He pulled his out and started typing. My eyes narrowed trying to figure out what he was up to. “There, you have a new follower,” he winked.

I saw the notification pop up and I had to steady my breath as I saw his profile picture because he looked so hot. It was a black and white photo of him in a white tank top and the same black hat he had on tonight. I clicked on his profile and almost choked seeing how many followers he had. “Holy shit, are you like an influencer or something?!”

He looked a bit sheepish, “I started the account when I got into fighting…a way to promote them…and then I just kept posting gym stuff and it grew from there.”

“Well, you have a lot of very loyal fans it seems,” I smirked, scrolling past some very thirsty comments. 

I’ve been down this road before. A pretty boy who has women throwing themselves at him. I nearly wrote men off completely after Lucien, but thanks to Vic and Marcus I realized that he was a very unique breed. I hadn’t known him long at all but I knew Benny was different. He obviously knew he was a good-looking guy, but there was something sweet and endearing about him. And no, this isn’t just me being mesmerized by his eyes…which also was happening.

“Pope used to date a girl who did social media stuff for her job so she set it up for me. I don’t post a ton, but it’s there. I’m mostly on there to help keep an eye on my niece, lord knows her dad is a lost cause when it comes to anything on his phone that’s more than making a call,” he chuckled to himself. “But now I’m excited to see your food stuff on my feed,” he smiled.

“Well thanks…I started the account when I lived in Charlotte…gave me an excuse to get around and explore,” I gave a tight smile as I bit into a slider.

“Maybe we can explore some stuff…together?” his hopeful eyes made me slow down my chewing. 

“Um…ok, yeah sure, that’d be fun,” I smiled back, trying to hide how giddy I was. “Although you may regret what you’re signing yourself up for,” I winked.

He looked at me with a lopsided grin and leaned in. “Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna regret it at all, boss lady.”

We snacked on the rest of the food as we bowled another game. I managed to knock down a few more pins this time and Benny, again, bowled a perfect game. As the time expired on our lane, a bittersweet feeling came over me. I had a lot of fun tonight, laughing and getting a chance to forget about things for a while. I honestly didn’t want it to end. 

________________________

As he opened the passenger side door for me he stopped, biting his lip and digging his hand into his pocket. “I…uh…d’you wanna go somewhere else? Or if you need to get home that’s ok too, I just figured maybe we can-”

“No, that's fine. I don’t have a curfew.” That comment made him laugh, which was like music to my ears. It was so pure. 

“Nice. Uh, wanna go get a drink somewhere? Is there a place you want to check out for your account?”

“Umm yeah, maybe here let me scroll through some stuff I saved.”

“Get in, we can figure it out,” he opened the door for me.

Within a few minutes, we settled on a new bar that was pretty close by. It was a casual place, which I was thankful for considering how both of us were dressed. 

Walking in, I noticed Benny scan the room. Now that I thought of it, he did the same thing earlier when we walked into the bowling alley. If I didn't know any better it seemed like he was trying to get a handle on where all the exits were or something.

We found a booth tucked in the back and I was surprised when he followed to sit on the same side of the booth as me. He sat close, our legs touching as we shared a menu. 

“So…what're you thinking?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Hmm…I'm not sure, everything looks so good. Kinda thinking of this espresso martini. What about you?”

“Espresso this late?” He chuckled.

“I'm Cuban, Bun. I've been drinking espresso since I was like four. You build up a tolerance,” I winked.

He licked his bottom lip as he looked down and laughed. “Ah makes sense. Is there a drink you think would make for a good picture? I can order that.”

I could have melted right there. In just a couple of hours he'd shown more support for this account than my ex had shown in years. 

“Aww that's sweet, but seriously, order whatever you want. Everything here looks awesome.”

He twisted his mouth to the side as he read through the menu again. “Hmm ok, I'm thinking this smoked Old Fashioned then.”

I had to laugh at myself when the drinks arrived. I could hear Marcus in my head making some comment about how they both looked “Insta-worthy.” The Old Fashioned Benny ordered came with a beautiful presentation. I was able to capture the smoke billowing out of the glass container as they unveiled the drink. My creative juices were flowing and I couldn't wait to edit and post some of these photos. 

“Hey, can I try and take some photos?” Benny asked with a lopsided grin. 

My eyes narrowed wondering what he was up to, but I was intrigued so I handed over my phone. He started off innocently enough taking some photos of the drinks and the bar, but the next thing I knew he flipped the camera around and wrapped his arm around me to snap a few photos of the two of us. I brought my hand to my mouth as I laughed, turning into his neck to hide. Being this close to him made my brain short-circuit a bit.

“There, some for your personal collection,” he said softly. He still kept his arm around me and I swear it felt like he was rubbing his thumb up and down my shoulder. 

I turned to look at him and the hustle and bustle of the bar faded away and it was just the two of us sitting on a bench. His eyes looked even more blue up close and the smell of his cologne filled my nostrils. If he kissed me right there I would have been more than ok with it. 

The waitress coming back to check on us pulled us both back to the present. It was getting late so Benny asked for the check and paid, even though I was more than willing to. He'd taken care of everything this evening. I wanted to split things but he would tsk and say “no ma'am” and pull out his card instead. 

___________________

He walked close to me as we made our way back to his car side-by-side. It felt like his hand brushed against mine a few times, but I thought maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. The drive home was a bit quieter. I was running through different ways I thought the night may end…trying to not get my hopes up for how I wanted it to end.

“Right, well Mari will be happy to know I got you home safe,” Benny said with a tight smile as he parked the car.

“Yeah, don’t want to get on her bad side. Although I don’t think you could do anything to get on her bad side, she’s pretty taken with you,” I laughed as I undid my seatbelt and grabbed my crossbody. 

“Here, ah…let me walk you to the door.” He quickly turned off the car and unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out before I could object. He waited for me to come around the front of the car, again lightly placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked up the walkway to the porch. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had a lot of fun,” I smiled as I started looking for my keys.

Benny put a hand in each of his pockets and rocked slightly forwards and backward. “I…ah…I had a lot of fun too…even if I kicked your ass in bowling,” he chuckled.

I feigned offense, “Hey now! I didn’t know I was up against a professional.”

“It’s not my fault I’m good at that stuff,” he said with a sheepish grin. 

“What other stuff are you good at?” I asked, not realizing I was biting my lip.

The energy changed and I think Benny must have felt it too with the way he sucked in a breath. His eyes didn’t leave mine as he closed the distance between us. Everything felt like it was simultaneously happening at warped speed but also in slow motion. As he got closer to me, the front door opened. Marcus. Marcus stood there with a garbage bag in his hand.

“Oh…ah…shoot, sorry,” he winced. “I was cleaning up a bit and I um…’scuse me,” he walked in between us giving me an apologetic look.

Benny rubbed the back of his neck, “Right well, I’ll get going. Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

I nodded, trying to catch my breath since my heart felt like it was beating in my throat. “Um, yeah. That’d be n-nice. I’d like that.”

Marcus walked back up, wringing his hands together as he approached us. “Hey, I ah…I don’t want to impose or anything, but um…Vic and I are celebrating our anniversary on Friday…10 years…we were planning on taking the day off together. I have a few things planned. But, we were talking and Benny if you want to help Vandy you guys can take the kids to the zoo or aquarium or something.”

“Marcus, you can’t just ask him to spend the day with two little kids…” I shook my head.

“N-no, it’s ok. Congrats by the way. I…uh…I like kids. The guys say it’s because I’m just a big kid myself,” Benny chuckled to himself. 

“You really don’t have to Benny….Marcus,” I gave him a look that said we’re talking about this later. 

“I really don’t mind. Besides, you’re going to tell Mariella that she could have spent a whole day with me and you said no,” he waggled his eyebrows at me with a grin. 

“She’s the boss around here you know,” Marcus added.

“We can talk about it…don’t feel like you have to make a commitment or anything tonight. I’ll um…I’ll see you later Benny. Thanks again.” I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck for a hug. 

He wrapped both arms around me, squeezing me tight. “I had a lot of fun tonight,” he whispered in my ear, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. “Have a good night Marcus.” He said with a small wave as he backed his way off the porch and walked back to his car. 

“I can’t believe you,” I hissed at Marcus as we walked through the door.

“Shoot I’m sorry Vandy,” he scratched his head. “I was listening to music as I was cleaning up, I didn’t hear you all pull up. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

I inhaled through my nose, counting to five so I didn’t freak out on him. “It’s fine, Buck.”

“So…how’d it go?” He followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I poured myself a glass of water. 

“Good. Really good. He’s a nice guy and we had a lot of fun.”

He pushed himself off the counter and came over wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “That makes me happy, you deserve it.” He kissed my forehead and I hugged him back.

_______________________

As I lay in bed, I started going through my photos from the night, trying to decide which ones I would post. I came across the photos Benny took. I hadn’t looked at them at the time but now I was able to see the way he looked at me in those photos. I didn’t even spend time picking apart how I looked. My eyes were zoned in on him – on the way his eyes crinkled or the big smile across his face. It gave me butterflies.

I had enough photos to split things up over a few posts, so I decided to go with a photo of Benny’s Old Fashioned from tonight. I was pretty pleased with myself at how I was able to capture the smoke. I didn’t know what to put for the caption but landed on “Great drinks. Better company.” and posted it. Within 30 seconds I heard my phone buzz. And then a few seconds later it buzzed again.

I had two Instagram notifications – both from Benny – a like on the post and a comment.

thatbmiller: Better company indeed.

The biggest grin came across my face and I had to cover my mouth to stop from squealing. I liked the comment and then felt another buzz, this time it was a text.

Benny: I had fun tonight. 

Vanessa: Me too. Thanks for liking my photo

Benny: Of course. 

Benny: So, I was thinking….aquarium?

Vanessa: Yeah, I’d like that.

A/N: That meddling Marcus 😆 for as much as he’s helped these two get together he’s also inadvertently cockblocked them too. Ok, so earlier I mentioned how @trulybetty answered some random questions I threw in her inbox one day… here’s what I asked, what her answer was, and how I used it in the story.

Pick a color: Pink (the bowling ball Vanessa chose)

Pick a number between 18-25; 22 (the lane they got)

Yes or No This was going to be whether or not they sat on the same side at the booth at the bar, so because she said yes, that’s why Benny went ahead and tucked himself into the same side of the booth.

A drink: Espresso martini (the drink Vanessa ordered at the bar)

Phrase: “You catch more bees with honey” (what Benny says after he sweet-talked his way to getting them a lane after Vanessa was initially turned away).

I hope you enjoyed this. I’m excited to share more about Benny and Vanessa in DL and beyond. Some of it may or may not already be written…. 😉

#miller monday #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x ofc #benny miller #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #garrett hedlund fanfiction

[musings-of-a-rose]

First sentence prompt (use whichever character your heart desires)

“Don’t look at me, I thought we were going for tacos.”

Taco Tuesday

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 630+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So @theewokingdead originally gave me this idea for Tommy, but it fits for Benny as well. And then I got this one sentence fic starter and instantly knew what to write!  

“You text Tommy to prepare for taco Tuesday. You later show up to his house with tacos, and when you walk in you find him naked and realize he thought taco Tuesday meant something else entirely.”

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

Dating Benny was always a blast. He has so much energy that he pours into everything he does, whether it’s his MMA fighting or going to the movies. He always gets super into whatever we’re doing and it just makes my life so much brighter. Don’t get me wrong, he has his moments where he’s not quite himself, his past consuming him. But he’s been working through it with the help of his best friends, myself, and a great therapist. 

It’s Tuesday and it’s been a long day. I walk inside my apartment, kicking off my shoes and leaving them on the mat near the door, heading into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I’m drinking, my phone pings, so I fish it out of my purse. Benny’s picture, one of us together at the State Fair with turkey legs the size of our heads, fills my screen and instantly my mood lifts. 

BENNYKINS: How’s my most beautiful girl?

Me: Most beautiful? Is there more than one of us?

BENNYKINS: yup. The one of you that goes in public and the one that does freaky shit in bed 🥵😘😈

Me: you bring out the freak in me what can I say?

…

BENNYKINS: good to know 😉 

Me: you free tonight? 

BENNYKINS: you asking me out?

Me: always. I was thinking it’s Tuesday so taco night at your place?

…

BENNYKINS: sounds perfect

Me: great! I’ll bring supplies

BENNYKINS: I bet you will 😉

I stop at the store on my way to Benny’s, gathering up the stuff we’d need to make tacos. Quickly making my way through the store, I’m grateful that there was no line at checkout. The quicker I can get to Benny the better. I really miss just being around him. 

I pull up to his house, parking behind his Jeep. A quick glance in the mirror to make sure I look ok, not that it matters to Benny in the slightest, and I grab the bag of food, heading up to the front door. I shift the bag and knock, hearing him yell  “Come in!” from somewhere in the house. I open the door and close it behind me, sliding the lock into place and kicking off my shoes before I head into the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter. 

“Benny?”

“In here!”

I head down the hall, gently pushing open the door to his bedroom where I’d heard his voice coming from. My breath catches in my throat and I freeze - Benny was on his bed, completely naked, laying sideways with a giant grin on his face. 

“Hey pretty lady!”

“I..wh…what are you doing?” I can’t help the smile creeping across my face, but I still haven’t moved, unsure of what to do.

Benny cocks his eyebrow up. “It’s taco Tuesday.”

“Yeah. I have the food on the counter, but what?” I gesture towards him.

His smile falters just a little. “You said you were bringing your taco.”

A laugh erupts from the back of my throat, my head falling back with the weight of it as I realize what he’s thinking. “I said I’ll brings tacosss. Not just my taco!” 

“Oh.” He shakes his head, momentarily caught off guard before the smile returns and he jumps up, his whole uh body bouncing with the motion as he bounds over to me, cupping my face with both hands and placing a soft kiss to my lips.

“You brought your taco, and I have the sour cream.” How he says this with sincerity and a straight face, I’ll never know.

“How does that turn me on?”

He smiles, his eyes studying my face as he dusts his nose across mine. “Because you love me. Now come on - let me stuff your taco.”

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry

#benny miller #ben miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x f!reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund character ff #garrett hedlund character fanfiction

[seat-safety-switch]

You've probably read a bunch of crazy shit in the news lately about batteries. Batteries, and the stuff we make them out of, will decide whether or not we plunge into an eternal ecological hell or not. They are meant to be made in complicated factories by well-meaning scientists, always pushing the state of the art. Friends, I'm here to tell you that batteries aren't that complicated. You can just steal them from the grocery store.

However, it is true that a pack of AA batteries sequestered under your sweater is not enough to make a car go. Certainly, not enough to make it go very fast, even if you put the suckers in parallel (that's electronic engineer speak for "side by side.") No, we need a different battery technology. And that technology should be accessible to the common dirtbag like me, so that Big Business can't take it away from them like they did "electricity" and "open fires."

I bring to you: egg fart batteries. I got the idea a few years ago, when I noticed that my Volare's starter battery had cracked and was starting to piss acid all over the underside of the hood. It smelled like sulphur, just like egg farts. I don't think you need me to draw any thicker of a line between these two points. A few awful weekends in the shop later, and I now have a functional electric car powered entirely by renewable energy. Free, too, if you steal eggs from the grocery store.

It's pretty great: nobody tailgates me anymore in traffic, and I get to work without having to clean out my fuel filter on the side of the road every thirty miles. Sure, there are some dramatic downsides. Nobody can claim it's a zero-emission automobile, for one thing. We all have to do our part to save the world, though. For instance, we're gonna have to order like four more bennies each at brunch if we want to get home.

[mercurygray]

is it too on the nose to suggest john egan + eileen hammond with "film"? if so may i also suggest "rest" or "risk"? i get nervous sending requests aljdfghkj

This request was perfect, Kind Anonymous Friend!

They were nearly at the end of the pile of mail when a surprise appeared.

"What's this?" Solly gave a second look. "A package for John Egan?"

Everyone in the room stared. Small lives called for small joys, and the distribution of mail was the highlight of everyone's week - if you were allowed to enjoy it, that was. Everyone in the 100th's officer's quarters had quietly resigned themselves to the tempest in a teacup that was John Egan during the mail - arms folded, scuffling his shoes, and complaining, in case anyone dared to appreciate too loudly, about wives and girlfriends and friends back home.

"I thought you said no one was writing to you," Frank said, looking up from yet another letter from his mother.

"No one was," Bucky said, swinging out of his bunk and jumping down to take the package, just as surprised as anyone else that the thing had his name on it.

"Does that address say London?" Crank asked, reading over Bucky's shoulder as he turned the package over and ripped through the already-opened paper to get to what was inside - a letter and a single phonograph record in a paper sleeve.

For once in his life, Egan was speechless.

"Who's sending you records?" Frank wanted to know.

"Eileen Hammond," Bucky managed, his voice almost a croak.

"Eileen Hammond!" Crank scoffed. "When I said you should write her that was a joke."

They could all remember that first month, Bucky moping around that once more there had been a mail call and once more he was without mail, and Crank, just as fed up as anyone else that he was being made to feel bad about a letter from home, had exploded. "I don't know, Bucky. Write - Write an actress! One of those USO broads! They got people who answer those - maybe she'll write you back."

"Maybe she won't," Brady had added, practical as ever, himself lording over a letter from his girlfriend. "Those girls get hundreds of letters. Lovesick soldiers are a dime a dozen."

"I," said Bucky, reaching into the cup on the table and pulling out a pencil so he could begin addressing his message blank, "Will take that bet, Crank. I'm a gambler. This is a gamble. Feels worth the risk, wouldn't you say?"

And here, it seemed, the risk had paid off. She'd actually written back.

"He's pulling your leg, Crank," Benny said sagely, hardly looking up from his book. "It's probably from his ma."

Bucky's face was long and dark, and without any warning, he'd stormed off down the hall, probably in pursuit of the rec room and its much abused phonograph, and the rest of the room, curious as anything, followed, wondering just what it was they were going to hear when he turned the record on.

There was a scratch as Harry James was unceremoniously yanked down, and several angry yelps as the rec room's occupants groused about being interrupted. "Put it - put it on!"

Brady and Crank both tried hard to read the label as Egan started up the record player, carefully setting the needle as the whole room listened, expectantly, for the crackle as the machine picked up the sound and a woman's voice bloomed into the air.

"Is this - is it recording? Okay, it's recording, good." A pause - the performer collecting herself before she officially stepped up to the microphone. "This message goes out to Major John Egan, and all the fine fellows of the United States Army and Army Air Forces currently overseas as guests of the German Army. This is Eileen Hammond with a special Command Performance for you all." Crank's eyebrows were in his hair, and even Benny was staring in disbelief that Eileen Hammond - the Eileen Hammond, stuff of painted plane pin-ups and kriegie wet dreams - was just as good as right there in the room with them, taking low and smelling of perfume.

Egan sat down heavily in a nearby chair, still holding the letter and the paper sleeve, and Hammond's voice went on. "Please know that all of you are in our thoughts, and our prayers, and that all the people at home who are waiting for you love you more than words can say. If they'd let me I'd come and sing this to you all in person, as I've done for so many of your fellow soldiers at home and abroad, but for now this recording will have to do. Please hear it and think of better days. We ready, Bob?"

Crank turned up the volume, and everyone in the room could hear a single guitar and a woman's low, sultry voice, all velvet and moonlight, singing the slower, sedater version of a song that everyone from Thorpe Abbotts knew all too well, whether he liked it or not.

Blue skies smiling at me Nothing but blue skies do I see Bluebirds singing a song Nothing but bluebirds all day long.

But the most surprising thing was that Bucky, for once, wasn't singing along. He was too busy reading, holding his letter as if it were made of gold, a small, pleased smile on his broad, sunny face.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #eileen hammond #Nix better watch out #masters of the air x oc #tds cinematic universe #asked and answered #kind anonymous friend

[pedrostylez]

Something Else- pt. 6

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: Benny's fight and the aftermath

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 4.7k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, ptsd hinted at, protected p in v sex, drinking and eating, fighting eludes to violence but nothing graphic, oral f receiving, mention of drugs

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday! Tuesday will bring another drabble about Anna and Santiago, so be on the lookout for that as well. Thank you for you continued interest, and I hope you enjoy! Please support by commenting, sending me thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you who reads this!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos

The car ride to the gym is awkward, to say the least. Instead of the original plan, you and Anna sitting in the back and Santiago and Frankie in the front, Anna is quick to sit in the passenger seat and says she’s feeling sick, not wanting to make it worse by sitting in the back. 

Frankie is quick to agree, sliding in next to you and grabbing your hand and squeezing. The dark backseat of the truck pulls you closer to him, tilting toward him and his warm shoulder. “All good?” He whispers in your ear once Santiago has pulled away from the curb, trying to have his own whispered conversation with Anna. 

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah.” You squeeze his hand back, bumping his shoulder. “You?”

He sighs, giving you a nod with a smile before turning his attention to the front to observe Anna and Santiago. Frankie is tense, his shoulders tight and arms rigid. He keeps holding your hand, smoothing his thumb over your palm, but there is an unspoken annoyance that he is keeping under the surface, choosing instead to focus on what is directly in front of him. 

You move your hand to his knee, giving him a small shake. He’s delayed in bringing it eyes back to you, but softening upon seeing you looking at him with a questioning gaze. He leans in to kiss your cheek, moving to your ear. “I’ll tell you later?”

You give him a small smile, accepting his answer and leaning against his shoulder for the rest of the drive. 

Frankie does not want to tell you anything. It’s too soon. 

He’s convinced he’s going to sabotage his relationship with you before it has even really begun, all because Santiago wants to do this shit again. 

“We can get that remaining money, Fish.” Pope explained, driving over to your place with the music low. “Will took note of the coordinates, and with you having your license back, we can–”

“No, Pope.” Frankie states, shaking his head. “I can’t be doing that shit again. I can’t kill people again–”

“It won’t be like that!” Pope exclaims, hitting the steering wheel with his right hand. “Shit, Frankie. We don’t have to do any of that stuff like before. It’s simple- fly the helicopter, load up, and leave. We can even leave some of it behind, wait another year and get the rest.”

The conversation had ended after that, Frankie shaking his head in anger at the thought of it. What the hell was Pope thinking? They had all risked their lives, lost Redfly, and they had barely made it back to where they were now. The more he thought about it, the more that Frankie itched for a line of coke on the dashboard right now. 

Pope tried to continue to convince Frankie, all the way up to your door. Frankie wouldn’t knock until Pope stopped, but then he started right back up again. In a hushed tone, Frankie turned to him, “You don’t fucking say a word of this to her. Got it?”

Pope’s eyes widened, confused. “What?”

“I haven’t told her. And I don’t even want to go. Keep your fucking mouth shut.” Frankie muttered, listening to you and Anna speaking through the door, swinging open to reveal you both. Frankie turned to look at you, and noticed Anna’s discomfort. He could sense the tension, but wasn’t sure if it was from you and Anna, or from him and Pope. 

And now, stepping into the gym with you under his arm, he still doesn’t think he can relax. To be honest with himself, Pope suggesting that shit again is having him reeling. It was fine before–he was single most times, he didn’t care what happened to him, and money was money. He was there for his friends who needed it. Money could fuel his habits, and he could go about his life. 

But looking down at you when you notice Will and give him a wave, seeing the smile on your face, he’s not convinced he needs to be doing that shit anymore. “Hey Fish!” Will calls, wrapping one of his arms around you in a side hug after Frankie released you. “You brought our girl!”

Frankie gives a quiet nod, smirking at how you push Will’s shoulder and turn to Frankie. You always turn to him. “Why do they call you Fish?”

“He can down a pitcher of water like it isn’t anyone’s business, and swim between islands like he’s lived in the water his whole life. Catfish it is.” Will answered for him, patting his back before moving beyond you to greet Pope. 

Frankie appreciates that Will didn’t divulge that a pitcher of water was really a pitcher of beer when they were off base the first time– “You sure you’re okay?” You ask quietly, a crease between your brows forming. “I know you said to talk later but if you’re not feeling it anymore we could just leave?”

He sighs, bringing his thumb up to the crease between your eyes and smoothing it out. “I’m alright, just…observing. Are you alright? Anna seemed…concerned when we got to your place.”

Your eyes dart over his shoulder to where Anna is standing and back to him. “She asked me how we were and I said we were good…and then…” You trail off, thinking. “I maybe broke the bubble that she lives in.”

Frankie hums, looking over to Pope and Anna and seeing that Pope is already staring at him, nodding in his direction for Frankie to come talk. Anna has her eyes down, looking at her phone and blindly sitting in one of the reserved chairs on the other end from where you’re standing. He turns to you and takes a deep breath. “I’ll be right back. Do you want a drink?”

You shake your head, taking a seat in one of the chairs in the middle and waving him off. 

You cross your legs as you watch Frankie walk toward Pope, following him over to the food and drink stand. When your eyes flick over to Anna, her nose is in her phone, ignoring the rest of the world around her. “Hey,” You say, clearing your throat in the hopes to get her attention. 

She lifts her head, eyes darting between yours. “Yeah?”

“I shouldn’t have…we should talk about Brad.” You wince, sliding over to the seat next to her. She seems to shrink away, but you’re convinced you’re imagining things. 

She stares at you for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Brad? What about him?” She says quietly, putting on this smile that feels fake. 

You glance over at the food stand where Frankie and Pope are heading back, each with a cup in both hands. “Well…I didn’t mean to catch you off guard-”

“You didn’t.” Anna jumps in, shaking her head and looking over to Santiago. “We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” She asks, turning back to her phone and shutting you out. 

You briefly nod, sliding back into the seat you started in and looking over to Frankie. You offer a smile as he hands you a cup. “I told you not to get me anything.”

“It’s rum and coke, couldn’t resist.” He winks, taking a sip of his own cup. “I got Sprite if you want to cleanse your palette in between.”

You hum, taking a sip and leaning into him for a moment before the fight starts. He wraps his arm around you, planting a kiss on your temple before leaning back. “I should have picked you up solo.” He mumbles, squeezing you tighter as you begin to laugh. 

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

The fight felt surreal. Benny was the last fighter, nervously pacing in the locker room enough times that Will did not sit with you guys until he got in the ring. Will looked nervous for his brother, but happily cheered him on once the fight started. 

Benny was a natural; quick, powerful, and knew how to take a punch. The first time that his opponent punched him in the face, you gasped, grabbing Frankie’s arm in worry. But Frankie told you he was okay, and Benny whipped around and rocked his opponents head back with two quick punches. 

When his opponent was defeated, Benny looked over to where you all were sitting and raised his arms in excitement. You couldn’t help but also lift your arms, cheering him on with the rest of the crowd. When you turn to Frankie, smile still on your face in excitement, he’s smiling and reaching for you. 

You jump up and down in front of him, his smile growing wider. “That was awesome!”

“You liked that?” Frankie asked, hands resting on your arms. You nod your head enthusiastically, wrapping one arm around his waist. 

“Benny was crazy up there.” You breathe out, glancing over his shoulder to see Anna and Pope in a similar position you’re in. Benny steps out of the ring and down the half flight of stairs, being congratulated by the surrounding people before making his way to your group. The gym is quickly clearing out, people filtering through the chairs to get a last drink and head out for the night. 

“Congrats man!” Pope exclaims, patting him on the back with one hand wrapped up in Anna’s. Her eyes are flicking between you and Frankie, looking up at Pope and frowning. 

“Thank you, thanks.” Benny says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Another quick check for the bank.”

“Won’t be the only one, man. Soon there’ll be more.” Pope nods, smiling at him briefly. Benny’s eyebrows furrow and Frankie tenses up beside you, stiff and uncomfortable against you. You look up at him, squeezing your arm around his torso to try and get his attention but he stays focused ahead, jaw clenched. 

Will glances your way briefly with a small smile on his face as if he is in the know, taking a double take at Frankie’s demeanor. He frowns, looking to you again with an apologetic nod before asking “All good, Fish?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, nodding. He tries to clear his throat, struggling to find the words. “Yeah…yeah, uh. We’re gonna–”

“We’re going to walk back. I’m kinda hungry so Frankie is going to get me some food and then we will just keep going.” You butt in, giving Will a look with widened eyes. He watches you for a moment, nodding before you turn your attention to Pope and Anna. 

Anna looks like she wants to argue, but Pope gives a small smile. “Be careful, walking home.”

You pull on Frankie, letting him take the first step toward the door with his arm still slung around your shoulder. He’s less tense as you step out with him, the fresh air giving you both a breath of life, his eyes finding yours as he slides his hand down your shoulder to your fingers. “Are you sure you want to walk?”

You nod, putting on a smile for him as you squeeze his hand. “Yeah, I think it will be better to walk, don’t you?”

He agrees, taking slow steps next to you in the direction of your apartment. His fingers drift from yours, reaching up to the back of his head to scratch under his hat. “I don’t want to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I just…I’m not really proud of who I used to be, and what we all did the last time we were in South America and…Pope wants to do a new round of it.”

You listen intently, shoving your hands in your pockets and looking over at him. He’s fidgeting, anxious and clearly upset. “Why does he want to ‘do a new round’?” You question quietly. The silence is loud in your ears, aware of every other thing happening around you. The bang of club doors, cars driving by, lightings flickering-it all is horribly obnoxious with Frankie staring at the sidewalk. 

As you take more steps further with Frankie beside you, you wonder if he will ever respond. It isn’t a far walk, but with you both taking your time, you’re pretty sure he has been silent for more than five minutes, thinking to himself and figuring out what he wants to say.

You look forward and see your front door just ahead, wanting to rush inside. Maybe Frankie needs to be behind the door, quiet and safe–

“Because we left a lot of money behind.” Frankie finally spits out, looking over at you and back to the sidewalk. “And he wants to load up on as much of it as he can before bringing it back, putting it into safe accounts and doing it again in a year.”

You’ve reached your door, standing outside it together with your key clenched in your hand. The idea of so much money that it is worth going back to South America doesn’t make sense to you. “Is that what Anna was talking about?” You voice your inner thoughts out loud, watching Frankie’s eyes widen. “She said Santiago was going to be in South America for a month. Is that what he told her?”

As you unlock the door, Frankie stands at the threshold, not taking a step in. “I’m sure he didn’t tell her the whole truth.” He mumbles, shuffling from foot to foot. 

You look back at him from setting down your bag, wondering why he hasn’t stepped inside. “Frankie, come in and shut the door?” You ask quietly, watching his shoulders sag as he strides in, carefully turning the knob as he shuts the door behind him. “Now just, sit down okay? Do you want water or something?”

He nods, taking off his hat and leaning forward into his hands. He’s still so jittery, and what’s worse is you don’t know how to help. You set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him, sitting down with your leg pressed against his and resting your hand on his back. “Tell me what you’re comfortable with, Frankie.”

“God I don’t deserve you.” He breathes out, shaking his head and leaning toward you to grab your hand. “I know it’s only been a couple weeks–”

“Frankie,” You stop him, rubbing his back and giving him a smile. “Just tell me.”

Frankie did tell you. He couldn’t remember much from the mission because he had blacked out most of it, pushed into this headspace that he gets into when flying, mixed with the anxiety of the safety of his squad that made his mind fall blank until he was trying to control the crash of the helicopter. 

He tells you this, and goes on about how they had to travel through the Andes Mountains, how his donkey was killed by a fall and how everyone reacted poorly-unfazed. How they had to burn money to stay warm, and how the kid from the village shot and killed one of their own. How no one dares talk about him now, even though all the money they brought back with them is in a trust for his kids.

You sit quietly throughout, stroking your thumb over his and squeezing his hand to let him know that you’re listening when he pauses. He tells you about his drug problem before going to South America, and how coming home after the disaster of a trip only made his itch for it worse. How he pretends to drink a beer when he is in public with his friends, because he wants to keep them safe without drawing attention to himself.

“I’ve been clean for two years.” He says quietly, looking up into your eyes again and shaking his head. “I think Pope was trying to wait and make sure I was sober before suggesting we try again.”

“Why ‘Pope’?” You ask just as quietly back, eyes wide and expectant. “You’re Catfish, and he’s Pope?”

“He’s always been…the savior. He always has a plan, brings us together.” Frankie mumbles, shaking his head. “But I don’t think he’s thought this through. I…I want to leave it behind, that whole ordeal.”

You shake your head in confusion. “Why not? Why can’t you? Can’t you just…tell him no?”

Frankie sighs, feeling tears burn at the back of his eyes, threatening to spill over. He’s trying to convince himself that he shouldn’t cry in front of you yet, no matter how comforting you can be. “If…If I don’t go then, they all will go through with it anyways. And they won’t have a pilot and…god they might hold it against me.”

“No.” You affirm, scooting closer to him. “No, Frankie, they wouldn’t hold it against you.” 

“Not outwardly.” He mumbles, tilting his head down and looking at your coffee table. Anything to not look you in the eye right now. “But…it’s a lot of money to leave there.”

Your silence is enough to tell him that you are thinking that it is a lot of money. Your fingers squeeze around his, asking him silently to look up at you. When he gets the courage and does so, your eyes are shining with your own tears ready to flow over your lashes. He thinks you look pretty, sad and upset for him, and he feels his heart break. “It’s not worth that type of money to lose yourself.” 

He stares at you, trying to process your words as you tilt your head, moving your hands to stroke the back of his head and the hair there. He closes his eyes, pulling his lips into his mouth and breathing as slowly as he can through his nose. It’s not worth that type of money to lose yourself. You were right. He could feel it, pooling in his stomach and soothing his nerves at the thought that he might not have to go through with this. 

When he opened his eyes again, seeing your own cheeks flushed and eyes sad, the anxiety came back. The feeling of your fingers in the back of his hair, twisting and untwisting his curls was the only thing keeping him from fully spiraling, leaving your apartment and finding his dealer he knew would be in some dark alley across town. He reached up to your wrist, pressing himself closer to you and making sure to keep your hand on him, sighing out when you opened up to him and presented your lips sweetly. 

He could get lost in you right now. He wants to get lost in you right now. Your mouth against his is the only comfort he thinks he needs. Your tongue slipping against his, sighing out as your other hand comes up to his cheek, stroking that bald spot on his jaw that he’s always hated, and your knees that you somehow got onto pressing against his thigh. He pulls away from you, chest heaving and swallowing thickly. “I don’t think I can leave them to do it themselves. I wouldn’t forgive myself.” He says gruffly, opening his eyes to yours. 

You’re searching-for something he doesn’t think he can give you. You finally whisper out, “I understand.” 

He feels his chest collapse in on itself, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he leans forward to press his forehead against your shoulder. You tighten your grip around the nape of his neck, shuffling around until you are in his lap, holding him steady as he tries to push down the overwhelming feeling to give up. You’re shushing him, stroking his hair and saying things that he can’t hear as his ears ring. 

He grips around your hips, pulling you closer to him and gasping at the feeling of your warm center against his. He can get lost in this. He doesn’t have to think, if he gets lost in you. “Please.” His own voice sounds different to his ears, the sound of desperate want leaking from his mouth is not something he’s ever heard. 

Your eyes darken, mouth parting as you dart your look from his eyes to his mouth, down to his hands that are squeezing you tighter. “Frankie, I don’t know that you’re-”

“Querida,” He interrupts, pushing his chest against yours. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You whisper, massaging your fingers into his scalp again. 

His eyes flutter closed, taking a deep breath. “I want you, if you want me.”

From then on it’s silent. No words spoken between you, only the sound of you breathing and moaning, Frankie groaning and flicks of eyes to each other to check in on the other person. You’re quick to pull his shirt off, his lips attaching to your exposed collarbone and adjusting to lay you flat on the couch. Your head propped on the arm rest and tilted back at the feeling of his lips trailing down your sternum, tongue peeking out to swirl against the button of your jeans. He watches you intently as his fingers fumble with the zipper, pulling them down with a grunt. 

He’s quick to bring his mouth to your center, relaxing at the sound of your sigh and your fingers in his hair. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking lightly as he trails his fingers down and fills your center. Two fingers push in, your hips jutting down to meet him at the feeling. He curls his fingers to feel you pull on his hair, drooling over your hole with a groan. He needs to feel you, needs to get lost in you. He swears that this will distract him, unaware of your orgasm until his fingers slide more easily through your folds. He pulls off of you enough to look down at his fingers again, continuing his movements as you try to squirm away from him. 

He knows the feeling is overwhelming, slowing his fingers until he can pull them away from you and up to your clit for a soft circling. You whine, pulling at his hair again how he craves and dragging him up your body to seal your lips with his. 

When your hands leave his hair he almost stops you to put them back, but then feels your shaking fingers at his pants. He helps, pulling them down as you lower the zipper while sealing a mark into your neck. You groan, shoving him away with a small smile and blown wide pupils and slapping a hand to your neck. “Frankie–”

He gives you a smirk, biting his lip at the look of deep red blooming through your fingers. “Spread your legs.” He says gruffly, pulling your thighs apart and sliding his eyes to yours again. 

You comply easily, one leg resting on the cushion on your couch and the other landing down on the rug. He watches how your hand slowly slides down from your neck, exposing the hickey he just gave you, and down your shirt that you still have on to reach for his cock that is now actively dripping onto your stomach. 

His breath stutters as your fingers wrap around him gently, giving him a few tugs before he starts to meet your hand eagerly. Half lidded, he reaches into his back pocket that is low on his thighs, still tangled around his legs, to his wallet where he is almost positive he is keeping a condom. “How old is that?” You breathe, giving a small smile at how he shakes trying to concentrate on the wrapper. 

He gives a small laugh. “It’s not old.” He swallows, feeling the pause before you continue moving your hand over him. “I–fuck, I put in there recently.”

You furrow your brow, tilting your head in question. “Why?”

Frankie feels a blush creep up his chest as he grabs your wrist. “Wanted to be prepared around you.” 

Your laughter isn’t something he expected-maybe a slap to his shoulder and a scoff, but you’re in a full fit of giggles. He joins you in laughing, watching as your eyes light up, trying to suppress your smile and failing miserably. 

“Why would you need to be prepared for me?” You giggle, trying to control yourself but a smile is still apparent on your face. Your hands come up to his stomach, skating your fingers down his belly button. 

It tickles slightly, making him tighten his abdomen a little as he rolls on the condom. He shakes his head at you, smiling again. “Well, look where we are right now?” He leans down to press his lips to your jaw, your chest rising and falling with laughter.

It’s silent again as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, the pause in breathing you both take as he slides in slowly. He sighs, humid against your cheek as he pushes until he is seated flush against you. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of you wrapped around him, and he glances down your body to see how you’ve stuck to him. Your chest, rising and falling and brushing against the hair smatter across his, his stomach, softer than he wished rubbing against yours. He tensed his stomach enough to see between you, his hips pressed to yours, dark hair leading to his center shining with precome and your arousal. 

He pulls back just as slow, watching his own retreat before pressing back in and looking up to your face. This is exactly how he wanted to be distracted. 

You pull him back forward, shoving your fingers in his hair and tugging. He grunts at the feeling, beginning a rhythm that has you whining for him. “More, Frankie-fuck, you feel so good.” You throw your head back against the arm rest, a dull thud that would typically go unnoticed catching Frankie’s attention when you wince. 

He stops, pulling away from you even though you paw at him to come back, flipping you over with your top half hanging over the armrest. His hands sink into your hips, propping your ass up for him as he groans again. “So fucking perfect like this.”

He slides into you again, adjusting his hands for one to hold your hip from pressing into the couch, the other landing on your ass cheek and holding you steady. You sigh happily, flicking your gaze over your shoulder at him briefly before closing your eyes. 

Frankie’s pace speeds up, driving into you with an inability to think about anything other than you that he’s sure he is going to finish too soon. Somehow you know, a hand blindly reaching behind you to rest on his chest, enticing him to lean forward. When he does, you’re quick to wrap your hand behind his neck, “I w-want you to-holy shit-t-to make a mess. Frankie, on me.” You whisper hoarsely, opening your eyes enough for him to catch the glint of satisfaction. 

He moans, shaking his head and breathlessly laughing. “You’re–fuck–you’re something else, baby.” He pulls you off him, suddenly frantic and ears ringing. He flips you back over, your legs falling slightly off the couch as he tugs the condom off to feel his hand. 

You’re quick to replace it with your own. 

You’re smirking at him, hair a mess and cheeks flushed. He can’t help it when he starts to come, white ropes painting your stomach and almost catching your shirt. He reaches to the back cushions of your couch, holding on for dear life as you continue to move your hand over him, eventually reaching for your wrist to stop you with how dizzy he feels. He feels delirious, watching you slide a finger through his come and bring it up to your mouth, peeking your tongue out with big round eyes up at him. 

You hum around your finger, popping it out of your mouth and sighing. “Come shower with me?” You ask quietly, tilting your head toward the hallway. 

He nods, standing up and holding his hand out to help you. Frankie trails behind, keeping his eyes on you and helping you into the shower, touching you gently as hot water cascades down his back, his fingers working you to another orgasm that has you floating and sleepy. He willingly slides into your sheets, wrapping you up in his arms and listening to your breathing slow until you’ve completely slumped against him. 

Frankie doesn’t think he will be able to fall asleep, but will happily lay in your bed with you wrapped around him, hoping that you can distract him again. 

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #something else

[romanarose]

Awakening: Melatonin

Frankie Morales x Benjamin Miller

Awakening Series masterlist

Summary: After the events of the group sex (detailed in the masterlist above) Frankie had been distant from Benny, not ready to admit his feelings for Ben. On a camping trip, they can't help but fall into each others arms.

Warnings and content: Anal sex, anal fingers, m/m, blowjob, balls sucking, love confessions, sexual repression, not the most correct termonoligy (Frankie and Santi largely use gay as the same as bisexual/lgbt/queer. They are old men so give them grace.) Internalized homophobia (not a lot, Frankie is just struggling). Aftercare <3 fishben bickering, Miller teasing.

A/N its been. 5 months since i updated lololololol IM SORRY!!! But! I had such bad writers block with how to get them together without just repeating the same stuff as Boys of Summer, but I DID IT!

I know this is just FishBen, not reader so you dont gotta read it when i now ur here for group sex, but next chapter will be the grand finale

ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT!

**************

“Fish. Hey. Catfish. Frankiiiiiiiiieeee”

“Oh my god, what?”

“I’m fucking cold.”

Frankie sighed loud enough that Ben could hear him in the next tent. The group had gone camping: Frankie, Benny, Pope, Will and you, and when you and Santi offered to set everyone’s tents up in order to let everyone start swimming, he should’ve been suspicious. Granted, he was suspicious. Suspicious they you and Santi wanted to fuck in the tent, not that the two of you had set Frankie’s tent up next to Benny’s. Assholes. You probably did fuck though.

“Of course you’re cold, you were swimming until fucking 10 pm. I fucking told you to start drying off while there was still sun out but you-”

“Oh my god, Fish, live a little.”

This is what simultaneously drove him insane and endeared Ben to him. Ben was a trained soldier: smart, capable, bright. ‘A one in a million talent’, as Will had said… but when he was out of the military, away from Pope’s insane missions and not in the ring, Benny had no impulse control. He chased his next high constantly, never being concerned with the outcome; something he could usually talk his way out of, like he was trying to now. Benny’s excitement for life and thrill at trying something new was contagious, and was the reason they were in this position right now.

Months ago, Pope had approached him, Benny and Will about helping him fulfill a fantasy of his wife’s; being dicked down by all of them at once. What began as a mission to pleasure you and you alone had morphed into something different, a shift in the group dynamics that scared the fuck out of Frankie. The sex was fantastic, you were beautiful and the energy in the room was one of raw sexuality and free love. He supposed he started it. It wasn’t like Benny had done anything to Frankie that Frankie didn’t want. Benny had sucked him off before in the scenario of a threesome with other women, that wasn't new. Benny was bisexual, and a mouth was a mouth so Frankie had been happy to indulge in the sloppy blowjob that ensued between both of your wet mouths… but it was Frankie who had gotten on his knees and kissed Benny, right there in front of the people they loved.

He simply hadn’t been able to take it anymore. The boy was a golden god, sharp but boyish features, devastating blue eyes, and mouth with many talents in and out of the bedroom. He admired so much about Benny, he was his best friend… but he was just supposed to be a friend. The kiss, the way Ben laid beside him when Frankie was still inside you and whispered sweet nothings, the way Frankie cared for Ben after the orgy had ended… none of that was supposed to happen. In the ensuing months, Frankie started withdrawing from Ben, made even more uncomfortable by the seeming romance brewing between Santi, you and Will; something you had all yet to label but were taking step by step. He was pretty sure Will had snuck into yours and Santi’s tent already. 

Frankie’s feeling for Benny were hard to ignore, but he was fucking trying. It was apparently bad enough that Santi had confronted him about it, telling Frankie to just talk to Ben and figure it out, but Frankie had insisted he wasn’t gay.

“C’mon, man, I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. Benny fucking worships you and you used to laugh at every stupid ass joke he made, now you just look at him longingly like a sexually repressed victorian woman.”

“I’m not gay, Pope. Just ‘cuz everyone else suddenly decided they were, doesn’t mean I am.”

Pope had looked a little hurt at that, slightly uncomfortable with being called gay just yet. “Frank, you were kissing him and-”

“So what!” Frankie had thrown his hands up. “It was the heat of the moment, doesn’t make me magically gay. You didn’t become gay when you got a dick up your ass!”

He was looking increasingly hurt at Frankie’s comments, but also obviously concerned at Frankie suppressing this. “No, I’m gay because I’ve always been gay, Benny just helped me explore that, and I think you should-”

“Oh fuck off”

Frankie stormed out after that. He later apologized, of course, and tried to be better around Ben. Benny hadn’t pushed for anything more, treating him like normal and no one had brough up group sex again so many things could go back to normal… but it’s been awfully fucking hard with Benny shirtless all day at the beach in his goddamn speedo.

“Fiiiiiiish”

“Wuh-uh-uh-uuuuht?!” Frankie whined.

“Can I sleep in your tent? Please? I’m fucking freezing.”

“Get another blanket”

“I have all my blankets!”

He wanted to say no, to tell him to fuck off and be more responsible… but watching Benny shiver by the fire early had tugged at Frankie’s heart, making him sympathetic. He could practically here his teeth chattering in his tent. “Fucking fine, but bring all your blankets. I’m cold as balls too.” whose idea was it to swim past labor day? Just because it was Florida doesn’t mean they should tempt fate.

Benny practically scampered inside Frankie’s tent, a broad grin on his face. “Thank you thank you thank you thank!”

Intending on Benny using his own blankets and just sharing the body heat of the tent, that went out the window when he saw his hair was still damp. “Jesus Ben, you’re gonna get a fucking cold, get your ass in here.” Frankie lifted up his blankets to allow Benny inside. Ben, for his part, kept a respectful distance. To Benny’s credit, he’d always been careful with Frankie, never pushing him to deal with this side of himself and never pushing for exploration with him. “For fucks sake, I won’t bite.” Frankie scooted up next to Benny, feeling his cold skin. He was sympathetic to Benny’s plight. 

Gladly, Benny took the opportunity to cuddle right up to Frankie, sharing in his warmth. It was nice, Frankie had to admit. They laid there for a while, their arms pressed up against each other being the only skin to skin contact Frankie’s received other than quick fucks from tinder.

Of course Ben had to start talking. “I’ve missed this.”

Frankie sighed again. Lots of sighing today. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Okay.” A pause. “I can leave, if that’s what you want.”

He thought about the options. Did he want that? Did he want Ben to leave when he felt so goddamn right? “No, Ben, of course that’s not what I want. I just want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to sharing a tent without it feelings weird.”

Benny turned to look at Frankie, but Frankie’s eyes stayed trained on the darkness of the tent. “It can go back to that. We never have to talk about it again, we can just go back to normal-”

“But we can’t!” Frankie whisper-shouted. “We can’t go back after I kissed you, I kissed you. All those other times it was you blowing me I could justify because you made the move, but I did this, it was me, what am I supposed to think of that?”

Benny seemed to think on that for a while, chewing over his words before speaking. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Frankie.”

“But it does, because…” Frankie scrubbed his face, groaning. “Because it meant something. You-... ugh… you mean something… to me…”

Another, longer, silence. “What do I mean to you, Frankie? You don’t gotta answer but… maybe we could start there?”

Damn him, he was good at this. The intense darkness of their tent made for a more conducive environment than the harshlights and confronting words of Santi’s home when Santiago had tried, Benny’s calming voice and open ended questions allowing him to think, to speak clearly and with less pressure.

“I can go first, if that’s easier.” Benny offered.

“Yeah, yeah that might be nice.”

Benny didn’t need any time, it seemed like he had thought through this before. “You are my anchor, Frankie. You are… the thing that keeps me grounded. You remind me a lot of Will, in a way, and you’re the only person he’d probably approve of.” Ben gave a small chuckle. “He’s very picky, but… it’s clear the way you care for me. It’s in the way you wrap my hands before a fight and the way you tell me to get out of the goddamn water” Frankie felt a playful nudge. “And how you let me sleep in your tent when I’m freezing my ass off. You care about me, anyone can see it, and I like to think everyone can see how much I care about you. When the helicopter went down, it was you I ran too, your name I called, you I pulled out…”

“I remember…”

“You make me want to be better. You make me want to take better care of myself to lighten your load. You make me happy.”

Frankie was ready. “You know that song, you are my sunshine?” He wanted until he felt Ben nod… when did Frankie lay his head on Ben’s shoulder? “I heard it the other day and thought of you. Everything else gets really… it's gonna be hard to put into words but that’s the main thing. You are my sunshine. You make my days better, especially in recovery. I’ll be having a hard day and you won’t even know and you’ll just brighten it up. I just want to- fuck I just want to take care of you. You say you want to lighten my load but I enjoy it. I like seeing your smile when I bring you food, I like wrapping your hands correctly because I know it’ll help you and protect you. I like it because I like- fucking shit” He had started crying before he knew his eyes were watering, trying to choke it all back. “I love you, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Benny took a moment to process those words, the confession… before oh-so carefully taking Frankie’s face in his beat-up hands. Gentle, he guided Frankie to look at him. The night wasn’t too dark, but still bright enough to make out vague traces of Benny’s face he loved so much and was struck by how his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. “We can take this slow, Fish. I know Santi jumped into it, but we can take it step by step. Or not at all, but… if you’re ready to admit you love me, I think you're ready for something. And for the record, I love you too. Always have, always will.”

He was doing this. He could do this. Benny would match his pace as he always had, he could take it slow… but right now, he was ready. With Benny beside him… it all seemed so much less scary. “Can you… can you kiss me?”

“Oh baby…” Benny sighed out in relief. “I’ll always kiss you.”

It was desperate, needy, teeth and lips and tongue and in a clamor to release the years of repression between them both, Frankie moaning into Benny’s open mouth.

“You’ll wake them.” Benny said with no real intent to hush his lover. 

“Oh please, Will climbed into their tent an hour ago.” Frankie fisted his hands into Benny’s shirt, yanking the boy towards him. “Fuck’n need you.”

“Always needed you, Frankie.” Benny muttered between heavy kisses, turning his body so he was half laying on Frankie. “Always will.”

Frankie’s hands found Benny’s hips, pressing him down on him so he could feel both bulges between them, and the way Ben rutted against him was electric, shooting to the very core of him and circulating through his body. “Fuck’n desperate.” Frankie murmured in Ben’s ear.

Benny chuckled. “Says the one grinding me on him.”

“Oh my god, you never stop talk’n, do yuh” 

But Ben could feel Frankie’s smile against his skin as they further pressed into each other, a desperate need for each other’s closeness.

“You wanna do this here?”

“God yes, need you.”

“We can take it slow, take it at your pace.”

“This is my pace, I always- of fuuuuck-” Frankie grabbed the meat of Ben’s ass in his sweats. “I always fuck on the first date.”

Kissing down his neck, Benny made sure to mark up Frankie’s neck. Everyone would know who he belonged to now. “Oh, are we dating now?” He teased.

Frankie’s voice was practically a whine. “Don’t fucking play with me, I can’t fucking take it anymore”

He stopped the motions, the heat of the moment cooling for just a moment while Benny forced Frankie to focus on him, only him. “Won’t play with you, promise. I’m yours.”

“Yours…”

It wasn’t long until both pants were shucked off (shirts remaining on for warmth, a blanket covering over them), Frankie fingering his wet fingers into Ben’s asshole.

“Can’t fucking wait to feel you” He muttered to the blonde, wriggling his body further down. “Gotta taste you, first.” Frankie wasn’t sure where to go first. “I’ve never sucked dick before…”

Benny smiled up at him encouragingly. “We don’t gotta worry about that today.”

“But I wanna…” Frankie’s large wet eyes glanced at him from his position between Ben’s legs. “Wanna make you feel as good as I can, Benjamin.” He tentatively wrapped his free hand around Ben’s cock, stick and hard and dripping for him. “Can I just… take you in my mouth, and you control the pace?”

Ben wasn’t sure how much control he was gonna have with two of Frankie’s long fingers in his ass making him pant and moan already, but he agreed, entangling his hands into Frankie’s soft curls as the older man lowered his mouth on Ben’s length. He took it slow, setting a steady pace but not pushing Frankie further than halfway down him. They could work on that later; they could spend the rest of their lives familiarizing themselves with each other's bodies, learning and growing together. Tonight was simplistic.

“Just like that, doing so good Fransisco… oh god doing so good” Benny moaned for him, the cold of the night long forgotten in the wet heat of Frankie’s mouth. His plush lips looked magnificent stretched out around his dick and the way Frank looked up at him as his fingers pumped Ben might be his favorite sight in the world. Frankie, for his part, was in fucking heaven. This felt right, this felt so fucking right and Frankie felt like he could spent his life sucking and licking on every inch of Ben’s body, and let out a whine when Ben pulled him off. Frankie moved further down, taking Ben’s balls in his mouth as Ben spoke.

“Gonna cum if you keep going like that, want us to cum together.”

“Wanna taste you in my mouth” His mouth joined his fingers, licking at Benny’s used hole.

“Seems like you got a whole lot of me in your mouth, Frank.”

Frankie groaned, frustrated. “Need more. Can’t get enough of you.” He lapped at the pale skin, only bits of him the speedo covered, the taste of river water and sweat dancing on his tongue.

“Francsco, look at me.” Ben called to him, and when Frankie looked up, lips detaching from his ass, Ben took his face in his hands and pulled him up for a kiss. “I know you’re making up for lost time, but we got the rest of our lives. I want to feel you inside me, I want to cum with you.”

Frankie nodded, obliging. “You ready? I know we don’t got lube, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You opened me up, and theres lot fo spit” he chuckled. “I’m ready.”

With a deep breath, holding onto Benny’s shoulder, Frankie slowly and carefully slid his cock into Benny’s gapping hole and fuck, it felt… it felt… “You feel like home…”

He didn’t try to fit all of himself in Ben; he was aware his dick was massive and without lube, it wasn’t worth potentially hurting Ben just to bottom out. It started out to deserate, so needy, a desire that just had to be fulfilled but melded into something softer. They had the rest of their lives… tonight could be sensual and slow. Frankie fucked into his new lover, Benny’s head tossing around on the pillow as theirs limps and lips entangled, Frankie chasing Benny’s mouth every time Bne’s pleasure became too might.

“Feel so goddamn good Frank, can’t wait to spend my life like this.”

Frankie kissed his nose. “Can’t wait to spend my life making you smile” He took Ben’s dick back in his hands, jerking him as he pumped into his ass. “Can you cum for me? I can’t hold on much longer, been wait’n too long.”

“Y-yes, yes Francsco, I wanna come with you, please?”

“Don’t gotta beg, just lemme see it, lemme see you cum, I’m right behind you, I promise.”

Benny complied, his body writhing as warm cum shot out from his cock. “F-fucking love you.”

“Good boy, baby” Frankie praised, jerking Ben’s pulsing length. “Look so beautiful cumming in my hand, gonna-fuckinghell-gonna fill up this perfect assohmygod” Frankie’s voice sputtered and hips stuttered as he filled up Benny’s warm hole with his cum, fucking him full. “Good boy…” One final time as Frankie slumped onto Ben’s body and into hsi awaiting arms as he carefully slid out. They laid there for a month, panting as they came down from their respective highs, a wide grin on Ben’s blissed out face.

Once he felt like his legs wouldn’t give out, Frankie a breath and pushed his body up to go get something to clean Ben off, but was surprised when Benny desperately wrapped his arms around Frankie’s body. 

“Don’t go, please?”

Frankie managed to lift up enough to look into Ben’s glowing blue eyes in the dark. “I’m just getting a towel, Ben. I’m not going anywhere…”

The worry of Ben’s face subsided just a little. “I just… I don’t want this to be like last time…” Last time, Frankie didn’t talk to Ben for months.

“It won’t, I promise. Can I clean you up?”

Benny acquiesced, and Frankie wriggled on his pants and left the tent, coming back with a damp towel and some of their waters and trail mix. Tender and soft, Frankie wiped his cum out of Benny’s leaking hole and Ben’s cum off the boys stomach, skin exposed by his ridden-up shirt. “Here.” Frankie made sure Benny had some of the trail mix and drank some water, then did the same himself. When Frankie was certain Ben was taken care of, he redressed him, making sure he was nice and warm. “I ain’t gonna leave you this time, Ben. I’m with you, now.”

Just as Benny was about to nod off, exhausted and lulled to sleep by Frankie playing with his hair, they heard Will from the next tent. Santi and your tent, actually. “Fucking FINALLY!”

The 5 of them burst out in laughter, Frankie nuzzling his blushing face in Ben’s firm chest but smiling still. “Oh my fucking god”

Ben called out to his brother. “How much of that shit did you hear?”

Santi spoke now. “All of it.”

Your turn. “It was a very sweet love confession”

Frankie lifted his face. “So you heard all of it.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly quite.”

Turning to Frankie, Ben shrugged. “Well, we weren’t”

Frankie playfully nudged him.

“So yes, we heard you eating his ass.” Santi teased, followed the distinct sound of either you or Will smacking him. “Ow! Hey, All I’m saying is the recent developments are gonna make the next ORGY wayyyyy more interesting.”

***************

THEY ARE BAAAAAAAAACCCKK!!!!

Thanks for all your patience!

@kittyofalltrades @bit-dodgy-innit @milkymoon2483 @luciannadraven33 @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @cocodiem @imwaytooobsessedwithpedro @twistedboxy @juneknight @angelbabyyy99 @marshmallow--3 @ahookedheroespureheart @kandik @moonknightly @storyarcscribe @itspdameronthings @lou-la-lou @axshadows @saintbedelia @lucianadraven32 @your-voice-is-mellifluousuous @nana90azevedo @luciferiorbxtch @djarinluvr @aretha170 @mystinky-butt @uglie-hoe @sirenphrynne @sammierae-16 @thismessthatsm @luciannadraven33 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @cocodiem @gogh-with-the-flow @paintlavillered @tiny-raccon @luciferiorbxtch @feltonswifesworld87 @whitearmsredhands @pimosworld @mrscadilllac @i-wanna-be-your-muse @violentdelightsandviolentends @lunar-ghoulie @meveispunk @missdictatorme @itspdameronthings @luciferiorbxtch @lonelyisamyw-0love @poeedameronn @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @luke-o-lophus @the-soulofdevil-reads @thepowerthismanhasoverme @miraclesabound @gogh-with-the-flow @simps-central @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ssuperficialspacecadett @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @broken-arrow-ambassador @thedreadandthefugitivemind

@casa-boiardi @littlevenicebitch @caelumcvre

sorry if i missed anyone!!!

lmk if you wanna be tagged for the next part!!!

#fishben #benny miller x frankie morales #francisco morales #benjamin miller #benny and frankie #triple frontier #frankie x benny #benjamin miller x francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Nine

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

SLUTWEAR / SQUIRTING/CUMSHOTS / PROSTITUTION/CAMMING/SEX-FOR-SERVICE

Summary: After learning that Benny is on Only Fans, he wants you to have a starring role in one of his videos. (Honestly, one of my favourite prompts on @absurdthirs's list!)

Warnings: Mentions of food, sex on camera, biting, oral - female receiving, fingering, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please, even Benny would tell you), rough sex, a little begging, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: I feel like I should give a little back story to the unprotected sex. In the ‘terms and conditions’ you joked about with Santiago, you did state what contraception you’re on and the boys know. You plus the boys are clean STI wise, you all got checked before entering the relationship.

Always use a condom irl for additional protection.

“You’re kidding.”

Benny had taken you to a diner not far from the match, his post-fight ritual of maple soaked pancakes very much needed. The pair of you were laughing over how you met, how your friends fawned over him, unable to keep their hands off his glistening abs but it was you who caught his attention. You who was shaking your head in disbelief at your friends’ adoration for a man they’d just watch fight but maybe now, things were making sense.

“You do not have an Only Fans,” you point your fork at him.

His smile broadens, “Of course I do.”

You wouldn’t put it passed him.

Benny’s physique is always in top form because of MMA, his sexual stamina off the charts if you compare it to the rest of the boys, he was energetic and charismatic and also packing.

Doing the math, it all adds up.

“Then show me.”

He rummages to find his phone out of his pocket, his thumb swiping before tapping the screen and handing it over.

At this time of night, there was rarely another soul in the place yet you still felt the need to hunch your frame and shield the screen from anyone else’s view. His top banner was a ridiculously good photo of his ass, his profile a backwards cap with a little embroidered white bunny. His profile reading:

‘Let’s work out together ;) Have a glimpse at my private nudes, post work-out showers and see what I can do with my hands! DM a request that tickles my fancy and you’ll be one lucky lady!’

“Why’d you start?”

“It was lockdown, I was bored and heard all these people mentioning it. When it paid for my rent that month, I didn’t find myself wanting to stop.”

You had no qualms with his reasoning.

“Gym Bunny?”

“I dunno, people liked watching me work out,” he sipped on his water, “and I fuck like a Duracell bunny so…”

You choke on your hot chocolate.

He watches as you try to compose yourself, hiding his smile as he shovelled more sweet, fluffy sponge into his mouth.

You were quick to flip the phone screen to the table before the waitress came to see if you were ok, you politely waved her off, Benny thanking her for bringing another glass of water. You attention returns to the phone, unable to stop looking.

Out of all the photos and videos, you realise there’s never been anyone else, your expression scrunches.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?”

He never pronounced the ‘g’.

“You’ve never had anyone else in your stuff.”

“I had plenty of offers to partake, never found a good enough match until you.”

You blush, breaking your eyes away as you pass his phone back to him. He sighed, slipping his hand into yours before it could escape, a thumb tracing on your knuckles. You met his eyes again, the colour brighter from the neon lights that beat down on him. His one cheekbone is pink and puffy with the swell of a punch, the eyebrow dressed with slithers of plaster.

You stretch your other hand, the cuff of Benny’s hoodie engulfing the palm you press to his injuries. You’ve seen worse on him, he’s seen worse than you could imagine but there he was still smiling.

“Just, think about it, yeah?”

“I will do, Bunny.”

He chuckles, leaning into you touch.

—

It was your next Saturday with Benny that you agreed to take part in one of his videos and Benny didn’t bring it up again until you spoke about it first, he listened to your terms.

“I don’t want my face on camera.”

“Easy, we’ll shoot it at an angle that cuts off you head, if your face is shown at any point, I’ll blur it out.”

“Wait, you know how to do that?”

He nodded, “One of the first things I learnt.”

You’d ask about that another time.

“I also don’t want to fuck in your gym.”

“We’ll take photos in the gym, fuck in the bedroom.”

“Can I wear the hat?”

“No, I wear the hat.”

You pout.

“I’ll take a couple of pictures with you wearing it once we’re done.”

You smile, bobbing on the balls of your feet. The initial nerves you had with this had spread to make something more exciting, you had been giddy since you stepped through the front door, much to Benny’s delight. You’d done exactly what he asked and arrived in your best sports gear, the ones that show off your silhouette.

“Anything else?”

“What are we gonna call each other?”

“Well, you can barely string a sentence together when I fuck y—“

You swat his chest and he pretends like it hurts.

“How about I call you Bunny?”

You blink, “But that’s you.”

He shrugged, “Maybe you could be the Bunny to my Gym.”

Your brows knot, head cocking to one side.

“Yeah, I heard it.”

Benny kissed you firmly on the lips before excusing himself, he would do a light workout to ‘get the glow’ and set up the space for a shoot, he’d call you when he was done. You tried to find ways of distracting yourself, wandering around the rooms of his house because you’d never received a formal tour and then you remembered this was the longest time you’d been in his place. He always took you out somewhere, a bar, a restaurant, the diner, anywhere but here.

Though you think you’d like to stay here much more.

Here was homely, cosy, decorated with framed photos of family and friends, little touches that notes Benny underneath that jack-the-lad personality.

You jump when he calls you.

Gripping the door handle, you notice your hand shaking a little.

He was glowing alright.

Sweat clung to each defined muscle, soaked through to his vest, his shorts pulled higher to display his thighs. Droplets fell from the ends of his dirty blonde locks hidden by his signature backwards cap.

He laughed, coming to you to close your agape jaw.

“So easily distracted.”

The temperature in your cheeks rises.

“I’ve taken some solo pics,” he guides you towards the bench. “Now, I know you know how to pose for photos but this is a little different, you’re gonna really need to exaggerate your assets, darlin’.”

You swallow, “Ok.”

He helped you loosen up, turned you into some sort of contortionist as he forced you to bend your back further and stick your ass out more. You were never going to become a model but with Benny as your photographer, you had every chance of becoming one.

After you’d relaxed, he introduced himself into the frame.

Benny’s approached to the photoshoot was much like how he was on match night, he mostly remained straight faced and gave direct instruction, gently moving you if he saw it fit. In all his serious though, his expression was soft around the edges and if you cracked, the corner of his lips curled and a swift laugh rose from his chest.

“God, that shot of your hand on my dick through my shorts looks so fucking good.”

Honestly, Benny got hard as soon as he started taking photos of you and when the opportunity arose, you took it. And it’s not like you weren’t turned on yourself, you felt your arousal pool between your thighs as you hovered millimetres away from him.

“Do you need to set up your room?”

“It won’t take long, kind of need you to sit in on it, if you don’t mind?”

You smile, “I’m happy to help.”

You perched at the end of the bed whilst Benny adjusted the lights. He’d already set them up ready, he was fiddling with the heights and moving them a fraction to the left or right, occasionally asking you to switch positions.

It was when he brought the camera and tripod in that you felt the knot in your stomach.

He noticed your demeanour change.

“Hey,” he cupped your face. “You ok?”

You try to smile but it’s fleeting, “Feeling a little nervous.”

The photoshoot felt so intoxicating but this, this was feeling like all eyes were on you.

“Bunny,” he’d slipped your new pet name a couple of times to get you used to it. He took you in both hands and crotched to be at your eye level. “You were fucking fantastic for those photos, if you want to tap out now you can.”

“But I want to do it.”

Benny got it.

He had sent nudes and dick pics to lovers in the past, filming your private life to go on a website was a different playing field, even he had first day jitters when he started. As long as you’re happy and comfortable, you’ll be fine and he can make sure you’re both of those things and more.

“Focus on me, even when you can’t see me, focus on what I’m doing. Remember your head isn’t in the shot, close your eyes if you need to, shut out the room, forget there’s even a camera.”

You give him a reassuring nod.

“The safe word is foxtrot if you change your mind.”

Santiago had gotten you used to a safe word, foxtrot shouldn’t be hard to remember, confusing them was more probable.

He brings a gentle kiss to your lips and you return, hot and heavy. Slipping a tongue over your bottom lip, he pulls himself away, biting the inside of his cheek. All he wanted to do was keep it going but he knew he needed to turn on the camera.

“Sorry, Bunny.”

He backs away.

“Where do you want me?”

His eyes flick to the screen, your pouting lips and nose just on the edge, already stripped down to your simple thong.

“Stay right there,” he winks.

You giggle at his display.

Pushing an index finger, Benny saunters back over to you, blocking the little red light from view. He angles himself to one side, pushing your one leg with his so your soaking panties are on view for all to see. Leaning over, he cups your face and kisses you on the lips slowly before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, pulling back.

He tilts your head towards the camera knowing all too well your swelling, parted lips would be in the shot, bringing his lips to your ear.

“They’re going to fucking love you,” he whispered, inaudible to the camera’s mic.

The shiver travelled down your spine, your back arching towards him as your breath hitched. He caught the gasp in his mouth with force, tongue slipping through to yours where they moved rhythmically. With one hand firmly holding onto the duvet, your other snaked over his broad shoulders to settle on the back of his neck. You leaned back, lengthening your neck and pushing out your tits just as he taught you.

He smoothed both hands over your body, ensuring he drew around every curve as they went to settle at your waist. He brushed his fabric covered cock along the inside of your leg, groaning at the friction.

You moved your hand back over and down the front of his chest, playing with the hem of his vest.

“You want this off?”

“Yes,” you say in a breath.

Benny took it off in one smooth motion, hat still attached to his head, and you wonder what the muscles in his back looked like on camera. You look up to him with doe eyes, mouth agape with a dumbfounded expression.

The smile on his face twists into a smirk.

“You’re too easy.”

“And you talk too much,” you quip back, your mouth working quicker than your brain.

What was that?!

He cocks his head, his one eyebrow arching, this was new and he liked it.

“Well, I better put my mouth to better use.”

Neither of you had a script or plan for this video but you getting cocky in your role was definitely something the two of you didn’t see coming. You swallowed, only having enough time to process the fact you were now in trouble, and the next thing you realised was Benny latched onto your neck.

You yelp softly as he sucks, his weight baring down.

The duvet grows taut under your hand, the other instinctively grabbing onto the first thing it can find, the elasticated waist of his shorts.

Once he parts his lips from you, he licks the wound then trails kisses down to your chest. He cups a breast in one hand and flicks his thumb against the hardening nipple, smiling at the sweet little noise that comes from your throat.

Kissing your breast twice, he draws a circle with his tongue before taking your nipple in his mouth and nuzzling.

Your head falls back, a moan escaping.

There’s a sense of movement along your forgotten thigh, his palm warm as he spreads you further apart. His touch is soft, brushing towards your crotch and back again, then he squeezes quickly and lightly three times. It was a signal every one of the boys used, three squeezes was asking if everything was ok when you couldn’t speak and you would give the same in return.

Your knuckles grazed his navel, three short squeezes.

His tongue darted to your nipple before he sunk his teeth in, a sharp tinge pulsing through the nerve endings and settling in your cunt, your walls twitching around nothing as your juices trickle, soaking your thong. He lets go, soothing with his mouth and sucking one last time, releasing your nipple with a pop.

Your head snaps up with the lack of touch and you meet his eyes as he straightens up to see your face. The grip you had on his shorts falls, fingertips delicate on his cock, the fabric shifts under your touch.

“Shall we show everyone how wet you are, hm?”

Stepping in front of you, his thumbs coil under the minute hem and you lift your hips for him to pull them off. He hooks them off one leg before making more of a show with the other, he hisses, seeing your glistening pussy.

“Shiiit.”

He steps to one side, lifting one leg and working your thong off, holding your ankle near his waist.

The temperature in your cheeks rises, your chest flushing.

“Oh, Bunny, you’re so wet for me.”

Benny loved how wet you could get.

The lights worked their magic and he rocked your hips carefully side to side for the camera to pick up that beautiful shine.

“Are you gonna play with me or not?”

You’re pouting at him.

“I’m only giving the viewers what they want,” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, coaxing a shudder from you.

Your eyes flitted to his bulge, his cock straining against it’s material prison.

“I’m sure they’d rather see that huge cock stretch my little pussy.”

It’s not like you told a lie, it’s just that Benny didn’t have you where he wanted you yet.

“They do but you’re not ready for me yet.”

Your eyebrows knotted, of course you were fucking ready for him, and that’s when it clicked that he probably wanted you writhing, quivering and pleading under him so his audience knew just how good he was.

His fingertips travel over your stomach, brushing through perfectly trimmed bikini line to rest on your mound. He takes a single finger, the one he uses on the trigger of a gun, and presses it delicately against your clit, your thighs twitching with the touch.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, a high pitched sound catches in your chest as he starts to draw circles.

Benny inspects the quirks in your face - the flare of your nostrils, how the colour leaves your lips as you try to stop yourself from making a noise, how your eyelashes flutter and cast shadows across you cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead.

He spreads two fingers through the outer lips of your pussy and groans in unison with you.

His palm still grazes your mound, the friction sending shockwaves through your spine as you lean your back to the bed. You fight every instinct that tells you to close your legs, loving the feel of his hand working it’s way through the muscles of your thigh.

But camera needs to see it, the audience needs to see it as he plunges two fingers knuckle deep into your slit.

You cry, toes curling.

The squelching from your pussy was obscene, it filled your ears and seemingly echoed around the room. Benny worked his fingers in and out at an alarming pace, your slick coating his fingers, dripping to the duvet.

You could feel the knot growing tighter in your stomach, the tension in your core building as he figured out the spot that gained the biggest reaction, your body against you. Throwing an arm over your eyes, you squeeze your eyes shut, dots appearing in your vision as you felt your loins burn.

He knew how to break you in so many ways yet what he chose to do next was new.

His thumb came to your clit, playing with that oversensitive pearl, easing you into a sense of comfort before he pinched his hand. The fingers in your cunt hit that spongey spot and his thumb pressed hard.

You scream, the surge of your orgasm rushing through your body, spraying your juices over his hand to a puddle on the floor.

“That’s it.”

Your legs vibrate, chest rising and falling quickly as you try to recover, a few more squirts slipping out.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your stomach which twitched at the touch. Continuing to rub your clit with all his fingers, he comes to your ear to whisper.

“Pope told me you could be a squirter.”

Dick.

However, two could play that game.

“Your brother knew first.”

Benny hunched over, laughter rolling from his chest, “Ouch.”

“But maybe you could make me squirt from your cock?”

He always loved a challenge.

Straightening up, he stepped back as if he was admiring his work before he spoke aloud for the camera to pick up.

“You want to cum all over my cock next, Bunny?”

“Yes, please.”

You lift yourself up to watch as he yanks his hard cock free, the tip coated in pre cum. Taking the camera, he covers one hand over the lens and brings the tripod closer. 

“Hold your leg up, make sure they can see you.”

He taps your one leg and you cup under the knee, bringing it towards your chest, angling it to the side to open up your pussy. From the screen on the back, he sees how soaked you are, droplets clinging and rolling down your skin.

Taking his cock in his hand, he glides the tip up and down your folds, notching your clit as it passes. You whimper, shivering as goosebumps arrive to your thighs. His fingertips brush along the side of your other leg, bringing your attention to him.

Benny smiles softly before mouthing ‘relax’.

Off camera, you take his hand in yours and squeeze three times then lean back to the safety of the bed. He pushes into your entrance, head dipped to watch as your folds stretch around him, stopping at his tip for you to adjust around him. His lack of movement has you mewling, walls clenching to what they can get.

Pressing a palm to the lower part of your stomach, he slides further in, a chuckle catching in a groan.

“You feel so fucking good.”

He takes you at a languid pace, his hips rolling to make a show of pulling in and out of you, the tip of his cock peeking before he pushes back in. Each blow has a soft but sweet singular grunt slipping from your lips. His thumb moves to press over your clit, stoking the flame of desire in your lower belly and sending through your body in a silent cry. As he begins to rub that sensitive bud, your hand snaps to his wrist with a sharp slap.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen Benny’s eyes turn dark, a hooded glance to you as a smile curled on his lips. His other hand cups your ass before holding you above the safety of the bed. He slides out, your building arousal aiding in the smooth motion.

His next thrust fills you to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” you cry.

You see the bliss come to his face, his long lashes fluttering, head tilting as he slowly draws back, the friction of your closing walls almost keeping him in. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard before he comes back to his senses, dropping his head and honing in on your pussy like it’s a target.

Then he’s nothing but relentless.

He thrusts are fast yet heavy, the force of each one rutting you deeper into the mattress, your one hand bundling the duvet into fist as you try to hold on. His fingernails bury into the flesh of your ass while your nails sink further into his wrist, his thumb plucking your clit as if you were a stringed instrument set to break under his use.

Words tumble out of you yet you’re overflowing with pleasure and have no idea if anything you say is making sense, whether anything you say is actually getting through to him.

Benny snarls, your walls pulsating around his cock, legs trembling.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close.

With his palm still outstretched, he leans into your stomach and hears your protests before every part of you goes rigid.

You scream, your juices seeping before he pulls himself out, allowing the floodgates to open. He knows it’s downright filthy, hearing the gush and the splash as you practically ruin his laminate flooring but he’s so enamoured with you right now.

His cock is twitching, balls heavy.

Your body goes limp, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, closing your eyes as the room spins. Benny presses a kiss to your stomach, shockwaves dancing through muscle, spreading a luscious warmth.

“Want me to fill you with my cum?” He notches his tip at your entrance.

“Yes,” your voice is hoarse, “Please, please, please.”

He won’t last long.

Your inner walls hug him as he reenters, the noise of your wetness obscene against the slap of his hips against yours. He lasts another minute before his movements begin to stutter.

In your cock drunk haze, you prop yourself up on an elbow, your other hand stretching to run your fingertips down his chest. The sweat clings to the ridges as his abdominals tighten, your feather light touch electrifying as he thrusts as deep as he can go, your breath hitching.

With a groan, he spills his seed inside you, coating your walls.

His flexed muscles go slack, his balls throbbing as he milks himself. Sighing, he pulls out his cock and watches his creamy cum spill with a gurgle.

Looking up at him, a meek smile on your lips and it’s like the Benny you know everyday comes back into the room. His hand immediately reaches to the camera and with an accompanying bleep, the red dot goes out. He collapses onto you, hands roaming each inch of you, lips kissing every patch of skin and he starts rambling.

“I went too hard, I’m sorry darlin’,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Even as you throw the hat from his head and run your fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, he won’t stop apologising.

“Benny, Benny…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his lips hanging loose as he meets your eye.

“Benny,” your voice is delicate, your hands cupping his face and drawing him closer, thumbs rubbing his cheeks. “It’s ok, I’m ok.”

He brushed a hand over your swollen pussy and you flinch, his brows furrow.

“It’s just a little sore.”

He’s not satisfied with your answer, you were going to be a little more than sore but he gladly slanted his lips over yours, sinking deeper, catching your sigh in his mouth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The room gradually came into view, luminous like you were still riding out your high.

Benny returned from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel. Dipping it between your folds, he cleaned the mess the pair of you made, his touch gentle.

“How are you still hard?”

He grins, “Remember, Duracell bunny.”

“How could I forget,” you giggle.

He continues to tidy away the equipment whilst you climb into the bed, nestling into the plump pillows. Your eyes grow heavy as you admire him, his hands as they wrapped around chrome stands, how easy he carries them over his shoulder, the other towel he brought in just to mop up your arousal from the floor.

“Benny,” you call him. “Come to bed.”

He stops what he’s doing though he’s almost done.

Sliding under the duvet, he waits for you to shuffle to him, an arm coiling around you frame, a hand resting on the small of your back. You tuck your head under his chin, a palm resting over his chest, his heartbeat steady.

“I love you, Bunny,” you say with a smile, closing your eyes.

He scoffs, “Love you too.”

When you come round, the room is plummeting into darkness, outside the sun setting low. The space where Benny lay was empty, creases in the bed sheets the only remanence of his presence. He’d flicked the bedside lamp on and left a t-shirt folded at the end of the bed, the towel gone from the floor.

Pulling on his metal band tee, you wander to the bathroom to pee, the house mostly silent except for the sound of clicking computer keys.

You freshen up before going to find him.

You never considered Benny to be the tech guy of the boys but his set up put yours to shame. He had crammed everything into what appeared to be a utility room, sound proof panels along the windowless walls and lights that filled the room with an ambient glow. He was basking in front of two screens, one with a web browser on, the other playing through the footage you both recorded, headphones clamped to his ears.

Creeping up behind him, you run your palms over his chest.

His finger pressed down on the mouse and the video paused, his other hand pulling off his headphones.

“How’s it looking?” You query, placing a kiss to his temple.

The smell of his aftershave hits your nostrils, his hair roughly towel dried.

“It looks really fucking good, I think it could go viral.”

He turns his head, bringing his lips to yours. Hooking his arm over your back, he holds you closer before you have to come up for air. You lick your lips, the taste of beer linger and you suddenly realise how parched you are.

Your eyes go to the screen.

“Shit, am I always that messy?”

“Yep,” his smile broadens. “Why do you think we all love that pussy so much?”

Your expression scrunches playfully, a joking ‘ew’ coming from your mouth and you wriggle free from his hold.

“You want another?”

“Sure, darlin’, do you mind if I keep editing?”

You glance over your shoulder, “Not at all, as long as I can sit in.”

His heart could burst, first you say yes to starring in his feature, now you want to edit. It was usually such a lonely process, he could use the company, also another eye on this will help spot the issues he doesn’t catch. Not that he thinks there will be.

Watching the two of you back was uncomfortable at first. You had never really heard yourself on camera especially how you sound when you’re being teased with and played with before being fucked raw. Yet the more you watched, the less you squirmed or looked away in embarrassment, you actually enjoyed it.

There was a spark of desire low.

Benny couldn’t stop looking at you, his eyes flicking from the screen and back again. You leaned from the beanbag chair with utter wonder, head cocking in intrigue. It startled him when you finally spoke after an hour.

“Have you thought about doing merch?”

And that’s when he knew, you were hooked on this shit.

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #kinktober #it could only be benny right?

[reareaotaku]

are there any blogs you reccommend/like? i like your work and would love to know similar stuff

AHH! Yes! I would love to give some free promotion to accounts I like/love/similar to mine! [Some of these ppl I've definitely gotten inspo from.] Here are a few [There's probably so many more] that I enjoy [Even if it's only one fic of theirs I like]/recommend:

@peoplesgraves [Similar content to anxiousnerdwriting and I enjoy it. They're very talented :)] @yandere-toons [They are very popular, so you've probably seen them. They're an inspo for some of my work.] @yanderenightmare [They are also popular, and I liked their MHA/BNHA content, but I'm no longer in that fandom. Although I did enjoy their work when I WAS in that fandom.] @anxiousnerdwritings [They also are very popular and have a lot of work similar to mine. I've def. gotten some inspo from them.] @i-cant-sing [Liked their BNHA work, but like I said, I'm no longer in that fandom.] @humanzfinnie [We're mutuals :) Love their work and was so happy we became mutuals] @donat-senpai [I enjoy their Miraculous Content so much! If you like Miraculous content, specifically yandere, you've probably seen their work and I recommend them] @scwheeler [Love their Mike Wheeler content so much!] @erenxfrieda [Love their Five Hargreeves content] @love-toxin [Enjoy their (Mature) Stranger Things content] @chezzywezzy [I believe they were the first content I saw on Miles Fairchild and that actually inspired me to write some content!!] @ourautumn86 [Their Steve Harrington content brings me to life] @luvtoonys [Love their Yandere/Soft Jane Hopper x GN! Reader and that's all I've read of theirs [Besides a Mike Wheeler fic], but I really enjoyed it and hope they write more like it] @slash-me-please [Their work inspired me to write for Nancy and I love their Nancy Thompson work so much!!! 💗] @finalgirlfae [Their Mean: Mike Wheeler story is a guilty pleasure. I love Mean! Character x Reader stories so much] @writingforcuteppl [Really enjoy their Ben Hargreeves stories, especially since there isn't much work on him] @xreader-writing [Love their Five & Ben Hargreeves work] @agaypanic [Their Benny Weir/Rory Keaner content is beautiful. I love you]

These are just a few blogs I enjoy/have enjoyed! Some of these definitely deserve more love/attention, so hopefully some of yall decide to check out their work. If any of the accounts I tagged want me to remove their tag LMK and I'll remove it

#favorite accounts #yandere x reader #yandere #character x reader #xreader #x reader

[thatdeadaquarius]

GREETINGS! How are you doing? I've been practically gobbling up your posts (there very tasty)

Ok so hear me out- I've seen a couple posts like this but imagine-

The almighty all powerful wise creator isss

✨️A literal child✨️

Thanks for hearing me out! For you ->->❤️

Baby you taking on the world aw

DAMN SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER!! i started fics before i answered my askbox :/

Aw i fucking love child reader stuff,

Lots of isekai animes/manhwa/manga do it and i eat that shit up everytime-

I also deeply appreciate when its not done creepily, like being turned 8 again, and having crushes on others who are... yknow, actually 8 yrs old or sm fucked up shit, like even if its 16 yr olds that doesnt make it any better, bc the protag will actually be like,, actually 20?!?!💀 the straights r wild man, i feel like it happens either way too, like its usually a male MC but thats just bc theyre more common tbh, like regardless of gender of protag 🥲

☆

Sun: Child God Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short Headcanons

Stars: Mondstadt ppl bc i don't show them i love them enough

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment any I missed. /gen

Klee has recruited converted you to throwing bombs with her.

You are the only leash on that child too and the only thing standing between Jean and full head of gray hair. 💀

Kaeya doesn’t know whether he’s endlessly worried or endlessly amused that the most powerful god is currently a child

if Jean isnt freaking out over ur whereabouts, Diluc is instead, and worst case scenario, Noelle/Lisa/Albedo is in charge of you

and YES someone has to look out for you, bc ur ass will just start making a hot springs spot like ur in ur teapot or smth in dragonspine (Albedo was fascinated it stayed warm despite the weather so he let you make it/enjoy it before asking u to restore natural order lol)

(Albedo has definitely asked to study you and, unfortunately for Jean, asked u to demonstrate several powers u have)

You do work as a lucky charm for Bennett tho so he does babysit u sometimes

it mostly consists of Fischl, Benny, and Razor “adventuring” by trying to do smth like who can jump on the Anemo slimes and ride them around longest

(the answer is you btw, u managed to get a small fleet of them to bus you around, the teens were simultaneously terrified running around below u to catch you and also amazed)

Noelle is so happy making toddler you all the pancakes you can eat, Sucrose had to stop her from going overboard and not just listening completely to kids when it comes to food

She is now very concerned with making you a balanced diet, tho she will still make u an ungodly tall stack of pancakes every now and then <3

They kind of all equally provide for you, obv ur their god, and ur a literal cutie patootie child, they cant just leave you

(also u might like move a mountain or change the weather or smth if they don't watch you so most are a little paranoid of that too)

Lisa gets u all kinds of cute outfits, still stuff you'd like, but definitely snuck in some sumeru looking clothing lol

Fischl lends you all kinds of books to read, Bennett shows u all the cool views in the city and outside of it (when Jean lets him get away with taking u that far), and Razor…

Razor brings you to Andrius and the wolf pack for a wolf pack party and gives u all kinds of shiny trinkets he’d collected for you

Diluc/Jean/Noelle/Eula nearly had a heart attack when they found out

Amber lets you have all the piggyback rides you want lol

she even managed with her own crafting powers (and your probably editing the game code or smth) she somehow makes a reinforced glider with a small harness on the back for you to glide with her

(Venti has definitely helped for some fun flights by boosting the winds for you two)

SPEAKING OF BARBATOS

ur absolutely spoiled rotten by him (and Dvalin, and Andrius, and the wind sprites)

if this god had money he’d spend it on wine and you lol

takes u flying all the time, any time, would drop everything to go to Mondstadt wilds and use his archon form wings to take you wherever you wanna go

tries to bring u to Angel’s Share but Diluc nearly hits him on the head with a wine bottle and brings you back home after kicking Venti out and giving you grape juice (yes you get all you want, within a healthy amount)

anyway the most important part abt you being a god and child is that you can now fulfill your childhood dreams of riding a dragon whenever you want

(one way to quickly get Mondstadt citizens to trust Dvalin again was just constantly seeing him flying overhead, occasionally seeing a small child on his back also helped lol)

(neither you nor Venti tell Jean you ride Dvalin and keep it an active secret from her.)

☆

srry i took so long! i hope u liked my hot mess of writing (i think its even sloppier than usual bc of all the fic writing full sentences lately)

and if not, I'm sorrryyy 😭😭

I'm focusing on getting thru a haul of asks before getting around to posting that Eldritch AU Part 2 if anyone reads this :)

hope u guys are have a great weekend, thanks for all the birthday wishes!! :D

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

#genshin imagines #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #gender neutral reader #my asks #aqua asks #genshin impact sagau #sagau child reader #genshin child reader #genshin god reader #tiny burst of an ask bc that felt appropriate #more to come today and next few days #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON <33 #:)

[queenimmadolla]

How do you think wayne would play with penny or places theyd go when he has her for a week?

how do you think hed spend quality time with her and engage with her interests? Especially when baby wayne is older? ❤❤

Grandpa Wayne has to make sure his little penny doesn’t feel like she’s being forgotten (even though you and Eddie ensure she's not, nor does she feel like it).

Wayne has very minimal experience with kids. When he got custody of Eddie, he was already an older kid. So I imagine, he’s about the same as he was with Eddie, only he’s aware Penny needs more monitoring. Takes her to the park; when she learns how to walk, he lets her toddle around, toddling alongside her to explore the area and get her energy out, sits on the bench that overlooks the pond with Penny on his lap, sipping his coffee while she munches on a donut and drinks her chocolate milk. And he’ll feed the ducks with her. They’re very comfortable with each other, and Penny seems to understand the difference between her parents and her grandpa, any rambunctiousness disappears when she’s with him. He’s a very peaceful individual so she feels at peace with him. And he doesn’t do baby talk, he talks to her like he’s talking to anyone else, if not a little more gentle.

He’ll take her out for breakfast and lunch to Benny’s diner. Like the park outings, it becomes one of their special things. She chatters about everything and anything she thinks about and he amuses her, adding in his two cents and opinions as he helps her eat her food so she doesn’t make too big of a mess.

She’ll even go to the movies with him and Maude, she’s a very good girl when she’s with them, doesn’t misbehave and it helps that they’re always getting her what she wants. She’s not a very demanding toddler when it comes to materialistic things, doesn’t want every toy she sees or anything like that, but they let her do a little more stuff than Reader and Eddie would readily do, simply because they have more experience than them when it comes to parenting, especially Maude. So while you and Eddie hesitated to allow her to eat popcorn—scared to death she’d choke on a kernel—Wayne and Maude allow her, because they understand how a gag reflex works and Maude knows how to dislodge an obstruction from a child’s throat, and she knows the Heimlich maneuver but that day, thankfully, never comes.

When she spends the night with them, it’s a movie night catered entirely to her interests. She’ll cuddle up to her grandpa, belly full of a bottle and some homemade ravioli Maude had cooked her at her request.

And she loves running errands with them so Wayne likes to take her everywhere he goes. He gets a lot of compliments from everyone about how cute she is, and he loves being able to vent about his grandbaby.

He’ll let her perform her little dance routines for him (they’re terrible and set to music that doesn’t at all go with it, just the latest song she’s heard on the radio or heard you humming, maybe something metal that Eddie had played), joins her at the table when she’s drawing or painting (though he’ll usually read a book, he just likes to be present for her), takes her fishing, to the Indianapolis Zoo.

And as she gets bigger, the bonding becomes even more reoccurring, he’s retired and she can do more than she could when she was a toddler. The only change is that his namesake tags along, neither one of his grand babies ever feels left out and once they get into the kid phase of life, they’ve got an attachment to one another—even if they do fight—so if one goes somewhere, they insist the other come too, and their sibling dynamic continues wherever they go.

He’s there for every, recital, competition, game, etc. a very good gruncle Wayne 🥹

#$ replies #pennyverse asks #pennyverse headcanons #wayne munson #dad!edie munson

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel Fic Recs

Who needs to stuff your face with turkey when you can stuff your brain with fanfic? Fresh out of the oven, please enjoy these fic recs.

Raise the Black by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) @valleydean (Explicit, 246k)

There are passion projects and then there is Raise the Black which takes it to a whole new level. It's not surprising that the author of The Shawnee Trail and A Ghost Story knows how to write historical fiction, but there are so many gorgeous bits of pirate life in this fic from the superstitions to the metaphors tied to the sea. 

The story is a Pirate AU. A chance encounter has left Cas, an officer from the Royal Navy, with a lasting obsession with Dean Winchester, the notorious pirate Captain of the Impala. When presented with the opportunity to defect and save his son from the abusive practices of the Royal Navy, Cas finds himself a part of Dean’s crew. 

I cannot overstate how good this one is. The underlying pirate mythology and superstition, the horny sparring, the epic battle scenes and of course the incredibly unhinged Dean and Cas that drive this story. The story had me anxious, like literally unable to focus on work because I had to know what happened.

It's @valleydean so she gives us a happy ending, but she makes us pay dearly for it in angst (so sexy of her really). 

And it isn't just the Destiel. The casting is phenomenal. I would die for pirate Meg. The use of the younger generation (Jack, Emma, Claire, Kaia) is amazing. Sam, Benny and Charlie as pirates. Truly we get so many great characters in this one y'all.

Without giving too much away, I'll just day that this one falls into the sweeping epic category and the results are staggering.

o weary traveler by dothraki_shieldmaiden @dothwrites (Explicit, 107k)

OK. So you know when you are in like Chapter 1 of a fic and already know it's going to be one of your favorites? That was this fic for me.

A mash-up of the Odyssey and Beauty and the Beast, this fic grabbed me and refused to let go. When Dean and his crew are shipwrecked on an island, they inadvertently anger its inhabitant, Castiel. Cas, an exiled angel, decides to take revenge, culminating in a Beauty and the Beast style pact for Dean to accept punishment on behalf of his wayward crew. 

Cas in this fic is very much an ancient being lacking the human perspective and Dean is just some guy who hunts monsters. It's my favorite dynamic. The way they dance around each other and eventually come together is beautiful to watch.

Throw in some delightful worldbuilding and poetic prose and you have a powerhouse of an epic tale.

The Common Hours by quiettewandering @wanderingcas (Mature, WIP 29k so far)

I very rarely recommend WIPs, so you know when I do it's because I think there's something special about the fic. I honestly think this one and the process of getting a bit more information each week is worth diving into, even if you are normally a "wait until it's done" kind of reader (and if not, this one is worth at least marking to be read with stars and highlights and little hearts).

The fic is a twisty mystery that has me throwing out theories every chapter. Cas is an amnesiac trying to recover from trauma he doesn't understand or remember. Luckily, he met Charlie who has been helping him rebuild his life. But Cas is haunted by half memories and a forgotten life, especially the memory of a man with green eyes who inhabits his dreams.

I don't want to say too much because half of the joy of this fic is pulling at threads and watching to see how it unravels. I'll just leave it at this: the story is captivating and fresh and these versions of the characters instantly grabbed me and wouldn't let go.

Vibrato by Tiamatv  (Explicit, 69k)

Tiamatv really does write some bangers. I couldn't put this one down. They are both disasters in this fic, but in a way that makes you to hug them and smoosh their faces. Dean meets a cute boy, has a full blown bi panic, realizes he was an ass, and strikes up a friendship that morphs into a friendship with benefits that morphs into basically a long term relationship but they're both idiots. It's idiots to lovers (but still idiots) at its finest.

Oh and also Cas is a super old genetic vampire. Whoops. One of the most delightful things about this fic is how well tiamatv captures the ancient and terrible being and also just some accountant dynamic that makes Cas so deeply loveable.

Despite some heavy stuff, this one is fluffy cotton candy most of the time and it's really about their irresistible dynamic. It is immensely readable.

The Sweetest Con by aimforsplendor @aimforsplendor (Mature, 19k)

If you are looking for some fairly low angst fun, this DeanCasBang (Taylor's Version) entry is an absolute delight. Dean and Sam are Robin Hood type con men using tech to steal from the rich and give to those who need it. They've finally found the head of a crime network, a billionaire resembling a particularly prominent and news worthy one recently which makes it fairly cathartic actually. But the mission is threatened when Dean gets sidetracked by a particular blue-eyed hottie.

This one is plain fun with a healthy dose of humor and really likeable characters. This one is truly just readable. Fun and fairly light and with enough interesting turns you keep you on your toes. 

Anything You Can Do by FagurFiskur (Explicit, 21k)

From the Dean Winchester is an absolute disaster genre, this is a surprisingly sweet, crack-taken-seriously smutty romp. 

Dean overhears his soon to be ex-girlfriend Daphne talking to a friend about how their mutual rebound relationship isn't working, especially because her gay ex-fiance, Castiel, was better in bed. Dean can't possibly let that stand. 

So he does the only logical thing and tracks Cas down. And hooks up with him. So he can win at the sex. Even though he's totally straight. 

Tag list

@varlysca @naturallyathief @greatbigbugger @fandoms-and-things @cascodedtech @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @deanwasalwaysbi @fellshish @valleydean @raspberry-tooth @the15yearhatecrime

#destiel #deancas #deancas fic rec #destiel fic rec #spn