#bennie no one knows what you're talking about

[zepskies]

Ahaha that is a great gif @lamentationsofalonelypotato! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. 😏

I was also sad to get to the end, but tbh I still had ideas even after writing the ending. So you might be on to something there with a little Elijah... 😘

I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them 😭 But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.

It's bittersweet, isn't it? 🥲 On the one hand, bonding. On the other hand, it's a memory of everything Dean's left behind.

Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT 👏🏻 YOUR👏🏻 MAN👏🏻

Hahaa I love her too!! 🥰 100% She's gotta protect her man, even if she's not totally sure he should be her man yet. 😝

Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!

Aw thank you so much!! I try my best to create meaningful story titles and chapter titles, and making room for those moments that reflect the major themes of the story. "Choice" is of course the biggest theme in this story, as it could be for every story--characters making decisions that push the story forward and help define their character.

I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so much😭. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.

LOL I love it!! I absolutely love the height difference thing too. 😏 I'd imagine the spooning is the best!

Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!

She said his name for the first time!! That moment after the river was probably my favorite scene to write, since it's the first time they truly explore their connection. 🥰

I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.

Ahaha don't be too scared! I'm all about happy endings, and I'm so glad you're loving their dynamic. 💜

Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. 😭

Ughh right?? Dean is just a Good Man, no matter how much he doesn't see it in himself sometimes.

So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.

Ahaha I'm so glad you caught that! It was such a funny visual to me too, and I felt like it was something that would happen to Dean. 😂

This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol 😂

Aww thank you. There are a lot of bittersweet moments in this, and this is one of them. But like you said, I felt it was important for them to have this moment where she acknowledges what he's done for her, as well as gauging if he holds any resentment. Of course, Dean doesn't regret his choice. 😉

Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that 😅. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. ❤️

Thank you very, very much my wonderful friend!! 😭 I'm too much of a hopeless romantic to have either Dean or Mila die. I researched into wedding customs for the Lakota people at this time, and apparently until Christianity reached their culture, they didn't have formal "weddings" in the sense that we know them today. It was more of, as long as the man got the blessing of the woman's father (and gave a nice gift), the couple would pair off and from then on live together as husband and wife.

Safe to say, Dean didn't get the chance to go about that custom lol, but there are other cultural elements I would want to explore in future chapters--along with them having a kid!! I LOVE the idea of Dean finding his role in the tribe by helping take care of/break in the horses. 💕💕

Thank you again so much for reading!

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life. 

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.  

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it. 

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.  

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky. 

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance. 

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs. 

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. 

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.  

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.  

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! 

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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Series Tag List + Dean W. (Part 1):

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@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @ajjustice

@ades106 @my-stories-vault @cevansbaby-dove @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof

@tmb510 @skyesthebomb @syrma-sensei @harleycao @king-of-milf-lovers

@pizzagirlxnsfwx @justsom3onesworld @beskarfilms @lunaticgurly @artemys-ackles

@malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester @jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean

@violetlilysunshine @traiitorjoe @tsofo26 @k-slla @jackles010378

@deanbrainrotwritings @urfav-tz @alwaystiredandconfused @torchbearerkyle @mrlonelycat

@deans-daydream @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70

@aylacavebear @liopleurodean @brujaporfavor @xiphoidbones @xsophianicolex

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @ghostslillady

[miniseokminnies]

xu minghao as hollis

[quimichi]

⌗﹒THEIR VOICE LINES ABOUT YOU ౨ৎ˚₊‧ GN!

Aether

❝Since the beginning of Mondstadt they've been with me. They actually turned out to be my second guide! Which makes Paimon even more of an emergency food❞

❝Whaa-Paimon will pretend Paimon didn't hear that!❞

❝No really, I'm glad I found them...or rather they found me. It really wasn't much of a surprise when I-oh-I'm already talking too much again.❞

❝Traveler can go shy when he talks about his lover, hehe. STOP PULLING ME AWAY-H-HEY-!❞

Albedo

❝Oh? I see, you already heard about Y/n. Well, its not a big of a surprise, they're well known here in Mondstadt. Don't worry, if you ever encounter them, dont be shy to talk to them. They have actually been a great help for my researches and experiments. ❞

Al-Haitham

❝ Y/N? Yes, what about them? Yes, we're in a relationship, and? No, I'm not mad, why? I'm asking to much questions? Could ask you that, you seem awfully interested in my partner. Passive aggressive? Pff, now you're just pretending things. ❞

Ayato

❝ You'd like to know more about Y/n? What makes you think I have answers? Oh? I see, Ayaka has told you about it, well...Me and Y/n have been in a relationship for quite a while now. They're a very good support, doesn't matter what path i take or decisions I make, they always have my back. Without them I wouldn't be half the man I am right now. Satisfied with this answer? ❞

Baizhu

❝ The person that always helps out here is not some assistant. Don't worry, I'm sure they're not insulted. Who else are they then? Oh, my lover. Whats with that surprised look on your face? Didn't think I'd be taken? To be frank...I'm quite surprised too that I got this lucky.❞

Bennett

❝ Y/n? My lucky charm? They're awesome! A loyal member in Benny's adventure team...the only one though...They go on every adventure with me! Saved my life multiple times! Bring me good furtune! And are my partner! Wow, I really lucked out for real this time.❞

Capitano

❝ I'd like to keep my private life as private as possible...but for you I make an exception, just this once. Yes, Y/n is my life partner, my lover if you'd like to put it that way. I hold them very dear and would protect them with my life if i have to. So, if I ever sense any bad intentions coming from you, I will crush you with everything I've got.❞

Childe

❝ They spend last winter with me and my family. So, to show them around and make them feel more comfortable in Snezhnaya we had a little snowball fight. Y/n got hit a dozen times in the face by Teucer. They lost, obviously. But the best part was, when we went home, the slipped right before the door and fell ass first to the ground...but instead of being upset or annoyed...they laughed. I knew they we're the one right then and there.❞

Chongyun

❝ Oh you know Y/n? Well, I do too. You knew? Xingqiu huh?...Can't seem to keep quite sometimes...Yes, I am dating them. Saying this feels foreign...I still can't believe they chose me of all people. But I'm not too insecure about it, after all, they chose me of all people.❞

Cyno

❝ Y/n is one of the few people who actually laugh at my jokes. I don’t know if its out of pity or if i truly make them laugh, but either way i don't care. As long as i see a smile on their face I'm at ease. Huh? What do you mean i sound lovesick?❞

Dainsleif

❝ There are things that I'd rather keep private and save, including my relationship with Y/n. So I have to apo-...no, i trust you but-...You're right. Y/n and I have been in a relationship for quite a long time now. They mean a lot to me, thats why I want to keep any information about them as private as I can.❞

Diluc

❝ Yes, I am in a relationship with Y/n. I guess the topic makes his rounds, huh? We announced our relationship just yesterday, but have been serious for a long time now. I am...not a public as you know. And i didn't wanted any unwanted or negative attention on both of us but i know i can trust you. Right?❞

Dottore

❝ Did i ever had a lover? What an inappropriate question of you~ Of course i had lovers, but none could compare to my favorite. Have you heard of Y/n? Oh yes, they are quite popular aren't they~? Well, they're mine, all mine. So it would be better for you if you keep your hands off them. ❞

Freminet

❝ Are they my friend? Uhm...no...they're a bit more than that. Uhm, yeah they're my partner. We've been together for a while now...Am i happy? Of course i am...I'm just a bit embarrassed thats all. No one has really asked me about our relationship yet except for Lyney, Lynette and father.❞

Gorou

❝ You want to know about Y/n? Sure, what do you wanna know? Yes, they're my partner, in fact, we live together! They're a really caring, they make breakfast every morning, tend any injuries i have and sometimes even run me a bath...that was too intimate.❞

Heizou

❝ Y/n? What do you know about them? Nothing yet but you wanna know more? Why? Interested? Why am I asking all these questions? I'm a detective, and you're interested in my lover-oops-now i ran my mouth.❞

Itto

❝ You mean the oni one for me?! The true love of my life!? THEY'RE AWESOME. I'm so incredibly lucky to have them. AND they're so incredibly lucky to have the awesome one and oni Arataki Itto as their boyfriend!❞

Kazuha

❝ They are currently waiting for my arrival...i cannot wait to have them in my arms again. I miss them every day...What's that book? Oh, it's just for all the poems i write for them while being away. One poem for each day. Once I'm back, i read them to them.❞

Kaeya

❝ Oh you mean my little snowflake? Yes, i know them quite well, i can assure you that one. Wasn't always like that though, took is a while to actually get closer. But i won't complain either way, I'm happy that we finally found each other...damn, look at all the sappy things I'm saying, they've done this to me.❞

Kaveh

❝ I'm still planning our house, i just cannot make it perfect! Ugh, it's really getting on my nerves. I NEED this perfect for them, I need to make this the house of their dreams. But it's taking way to long. Since when am i planning? About 3 years. And since when are we dating? Also about 3 years...oh...❞

Kinich

❝ When they first traveled to Natlan they didn't met me immediately. I've only got to know them through Mualani and Kachina. They once expressed their hatred towards saurian hunters, went off yapping for a good hour too. You should've seen the look on their face once i told them i was one of them. They're still embarrassed to this day, even more after i explained what i really do. One of the many memories that truly make me happy.❞

Lyney

❝ They're aware that true magic doesn't exist. That all my shows are just an act. That somewhere is a trick hidden, so simple its ridiculous. And yet, they're still amazed, still getting big eyed when I'm on stage preforming. Even after countless shows that are the same, they're clapping along like it was the first....I couldn't not have asked for a better support and love in my life then them.❞

Mika

❝ I still don't know how i managed to confess, maybe it's because i can't really remember it anyway. It's a memory I'd like to forget entirely, mostly because i was so embarrassed afterwards. But I never want to forget what they said afterwards. Everytime i hear those 4 words from them I get butterflies.❞

Neuvillette

❝ Y/n and I are in a serious relationship since 5 years and 4 months. We have been living together since 3 years and 1 month. I do consider our relationship deep and intimate. I trust them deeply and never once did I think about it otherwise. I truly believe that our relationship will hold on for eternity. Is this enough information or should I tell you more?❞

Pantalone

❝ Ah, my spoiled little brat? Joking, joking...well, only half. I do spoil them quite a lot, but i wouldn't consider them a brat...most of the time. Just last week I bought them this new coat, winter in Snezhnaya are the hardest in all Teyvat. Oh, and new gloves, a scarf an-no, why would i brag with my money, it's not like i have enough to buy at least million of coats.❞

Pierro

❝ The only thing you need to know is that they are with me and well taken care off. Should you not remember the fact that any hate or violence towards them is strictly forbidden, i will gladly remind you. ❞

Razor

❝ Y/n helped Razor a lot. Razor appreciates it, the help. Razor also loves Y/n. That's what Y/n always tells Razor every day. So Razor tells Y/n every day too.❞

Scaramouche

❝ Who? My lover? Them? No, I would never. No, I'm not keeping anything private?! Neither am I ashamed of anything...quite the opposite, huh? No, said nothing. Screw off now, i need to be somewhere. Where? None of your damn business...So what if its a date?!❞

Thoma

❝ Mhm, you're quite right, Y/n and I arw together. Lucked out, huh? I'm currently teaching them how to cook some dishes, been going well...for the most part. No, they have a hand for it but both of us always seem to lose any focus once we're 30 minutes into it.❞

Tighnari

❝ You should've heard their begging, "Oh Tighnari please, i can keep my own garden!" Yeah, keeping it, but not take care of it. Because who takes care of it? Correct, me. It's easy work, so it's not too troublesome. But what is troublesome is how they don't take care of it. *sigh* maybe i am a bit to harsh on them, they are a bit stressed lately anyway. They deserve to take a rest and calm down from everything. So i gladly take care of the garden, for as long as they need me to.❞

Venti

❝ Our first meeting was quite the embarrassing one, almost feel quite shy telling it....Ok! Ok! I'll tell you!....I fell into their lap...No, i wasn't drunk! Someone else was, pushed me by accident and i stumbled backwards right onto their lap in angels share. And to top it off i took their plate and drink with me. Lucky for me, they weren't mad at all. Still...it's so embarrassing!❞

Wriothesley

❝ Took them quite a while to adjust to Meropide. Understandable though, it's a change from the surface. But once they grew comfortable, it's almost like they don't want to leave. They quickly befriended almost everyone, especially Sigewinne. They grew quite popular here in the matter of just a few weeks. Good for me i got them first before anyone else could.❞

Xiao

❝ Hm? Oh, them? Yes, we're close. Why do you ask? Just curious? Ugh, don't look at me like that. What do you wanna hear? How much i love them? You can wait till the day Teyvat will shatter entirely, I won't say it to you, only to them.❞

Xingqiu

❝ Our love story is picture perfect. A written love story by the finest ink. Full of clichés. We reached for the same book, and our hands touched. Then and there, i was mesmerized...until they snatched the book first.❞

Zhongli

❝ Our love story has been holding on since 3717 years, and it will hold on for many years more. What makes me so sure it will? We love each other like it was the very first day. Never once did we lie to one another, were apart from each other or lost our trust. I do have a contract anyway if anything should happen.❞

[shockercoco]

Whatever It Takes

Benny Cross x reader

warnings - 18+, smut, p in v, overstimulation, squirting, some swearing, dirty talk, breeding

word count - 2851

a/n - request : "Hi! Please can you write a Benny x reader smut where he's got a breeding kink and he just wants to knock her up?" - the fact that I haven't written for austin in over a month is crazy, also thank you guys for the support on all of my works! but anyways thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy :)

One day while Benny was working at the garage with his cousin, he was fixing a car that had been brought in by a single mother of three. He could see how exhausted the mother was and the hard time she was having controlling her two kids that were running around, while the third one was being balanced on her hip.

When he had mentioned to the woman that her husband should be doing something like this, the woman said, “He’s out of the picture, unfortunately. Otherwise, I would be having him do this.”

Benny just nodded in acknowledgment and said nothing more as he continued to work on the woman’s car.

After sending the woman on her way, he couldn’t help but think about his own father and how he was also nonexistent in his childhood – in his life period. He began thinking about how he would never put his kids through what he experienced, that is if he were to have children of his own.

Having kids was a topic that had come up a couple of times between the two of you, but the conversation never really ended up going anywhere. Because of Benny’s background, he was always hesitant and had his doubts on his ability to be a good father.

But, this incident has him thinking, and he may or may not want to change his mind.

Later that night, as the two of you were laying in bed – Benny on his back with his hands behind his head and you with your head on his chest – Benny decided he needed to say what was on his mind.

“Do you really want to have kids?” Benny asks, looking down at you as you lay on his chest.

You lift your head up and give him a confused look. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve just been thinking about it lately,” Benny shrugs. “Do you?”

“You know I would love to have a family, Benny, but I don’t want to force anything on you,” you tell him.

“You’re not forcing anything on me. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“...Today I had to fix this single mother’s car, and I just felt like shit that she was taking care of her kids by herself,” Benny admits.

“And this made you think about having a kid of your own?” you ask, flipping yourself over to lie on your stomach, making it easier to look at him.

“Well…yeah.”

“Benny, are you sure you’re not just saying this because you somehow want to prove a point to yourself? You know, given the way you grew up and everything.”

“I’m serious about this, baby,” he looks down at you.

You raise an eyebrow up at him. “And you’re sure this isn’t just some excuse to have sex with me?”

Benny cracks a smile and lets out a laugh, making your body move on top of his. “I mean, it’s definitely a plus,” he smirks, causing you to hit him in his chest, “but, no, I want to try. If it happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

“Like actually?” you ask.

“Yes, actually,” Benny confirms.

“You got yourself a deal, Benny Cross,” you smile at him, and lean up to press your lips onto his.

Benny moves one of his hands from behind his head and places it on the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. When you go to pull back, you're met with resistance, making Benny breathe out a laugh against your lips at your attempt to get away.

“Why don’t we go ahead and get a head start on the process?” Benny murmurs against your lips.

“Benny, it’s almost midnight, and we have to get up early in the morning,” you sigh as you go to pull away again.

“Don’t worry, I can be quick,” he promises, causing you to roll your eyes.

“That’s what you always say,” you point out as you go to lay on your back next to Benny. He just follows you and turns over to allow his body to hover over yours.

“I know, but this time it’ll be true,” Benny whispers against the skin of your neck, placing a few scattered kisses on the area. 

“Benny…,” you begin to say, but trail off as you feel him make his way behind your ear, your weakness. You bite back a moan and place your hands against his chest, but make no move to actually push him away.

“Come on, darlin’,” you hear Benny say into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. Benny moves one of his hands further south until it reaches your panties, cupping you in his palm. A gasp involuntarily escapes your lips, your hands tightening on his shirt. You can feel warmth pooling in your core.

You knew it was a bad idea to go without your pajama shorts tonight.

“Y’know you want to,” says Benny as he begins to move his hand back up, letting it lay on your stomach. You feel his fingers spread out, allowing him to cover more of your skin. “I can’t wait to see you carrying my child, baby. C’mon, let me make it happen.”

Your head leans to the side – to give him more access, but to also take a look at the clock on your nightstand. Staying up a little later wouldn’t hurt, right?

Fuck it.

“Okay,” you give in.

You feel Benny smirk against your neck, before he lifts his head to look you in the eye.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as his hand moves back down towards your underwear, holding eye contact with you the whole time. “You made the right choice.”

His fingers slip under the waistband before landing on your already drenched folds. He runs a finger up and down your folds before landing on your clit, spreading your wetness and causing a soft moan to leave your lips. You feel his finger press down on your bud as he begins to draw tight circles into you, making your head fall deeper into the pillow and your legs open wider.

“Gotta get you ready for me, baby,” Benny tells you. 

When you feel Benny suddenly insert a finger inside of you, your eyes closing, and your mouth falls open in surprise at the intrusion. Benny moves his head back down and begins to press kisses along your jawline as he plunges his finger in and out of you.

It’s not long before he adds another finger inside of you, slowly moving his fingers in tandem inside of you. The longer he continues, the louder the noise he’s forcing out of your wet pussy becomes, the sound turning you on even more. He suddenly pulls his fingers out of you, just to spread more of your arousal, using his thumb to go back to your clit.

He begins to stimulate the sensitive bud as he slips his fingers back inside. You can’t help the pathetic noise that leaves you as you arch your body into his.

Getting annoyed with his slow pace, you reach a hand down to grab his wrist and begin moving your hips along with the thrust of his fingers, making Benny chuckle against your skin.

Leaning back to look at your face once more, Benny asks, “Needy, huh, baby?”

A small whimper is all you’re able to manage out, your senses slowly becoming drowned in pleasure. His fingers, the way you can feel how hard he is with his body pressed against you, his raspy voice – it’s almost enough to make you cum on the spot.

Suddenly, you feel his fingers stop inside of you, causing your eyes to fly open and connect with his. 

“Benny,” you whine.

“I asked you a question,” he gently tells you, but his expression is stern.

“That wasn’t really a question, though, was it?” you give him a look, still irritated at the fact that he ruined your impending orgasm.

Benny’s eyebrows raise in surprise at your sudden boldness. “Watch your tone darlin’, I’m the one in charge of your pleasure,” he reminds you, using his thumb to quickly add pressure to your clit.

You let out a whimper, your eyes closing momentarily before looking back at him. “You want this just as much as I do,” you glare up at him.

Benny’s lips curl into a smirk, staying silent for a moment, before speaking. “Ya’ know, you’re kinda hot when you talk back. You’re lucky you’re right, otherwise I’d just stop this altogether. Before I continue, though, I’m gonna need you to answer my question.”

You contemplate not giving into him just for the hell of it, but you quickly decide against it. “Yes.”

“Yes…what?” he teases, giving you a look as he waits for you to continue.

“Come on, Benny, this is stupid,” you pout, and he just shakes his head. You let out a sigh and look away from him in embarrassment as you quietly say, “Yes, I’m needy.”

His smirk only grows as he watches you struggle. “See that wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, still avoiding his eyes.

“Oh, baby, I will,” he assures you, sliding his fingers out of you in the process.

Your mouth slightly parts as you watch Benny take one of the two soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking and releasing it with a popping noise – all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours. You feel another wave of arousal travel to your core at the sight.

Then he hovers the untouched finger over your lips, telling you, “Go ahead.”

You glance down at his finger before looking back up at him and taking it inside your mouth.

Benny lets out a groan. “Good girl.”

Once you release his finger, Benny sits up to peel his tank top off, his sweatpants and underwear following soon after. You take the time to rid yourself of your clothes, although all you were wearing were panties and one of Benny’s shirts with no bra underneath. Your body runs hot as you catch sight of the damp spot that has formed in your panties.

Benny goes to align himself with your entrance, but just when you think he’s about to push in, he decides to run the head of his cock up and down your sticky folds, bumping into your clit on his way up each time and forcing your walls to clench around nothing.

“My god, baby,” he says lowly, mainly to himself, as he watches his hard length run across you. There’s already precum leaking out his slit, mixing with your fluids.

“Benny, please,” you beg, your voice becoming even more whiny the more desperate you become.

“Yeah, baby?” he questions, his tone condescending as he leans down to hover over you again. He places his arms on either side of your head, caging you in as he rests on his elbows. “You want me to put a baby in you?”

You buck your hips up into him and pathetically nod. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” he fake pouts, his hips still moving.

He loves to tease you and make you wait as long as possible – he’d probably edge you all night if he really wanted to.

“Yes-,” you cry out, and before you could say anything else, your sentence is cut off by Benny pushing into you – all the way to the hilt.

You throw your head back while your jaw drops as you let out a silent cry. Benny’s head drops as your tight, warm walls enclose around him.  A deep growl leaves his throat, his eyes shutting in the process.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

It doesn’t take him long to set his pace, hitting that special spot with each stroke. Your previous orgasm that had gotten interrupted quickly builds back up and makes its way out of your body. Your eyes roll back as you let out a sob. Benny bites the skin of your shoulder as he feels your walls get even tighter, trapping him in. He has to take a second to slow down and regain his composure, before resuming.

One of your hands finds a place in his hair, while the other wraps around him, wanting to keep him as close as possible. Benny pulls a leg over his hip, allowing him to hit you at a different angle. The way your face contorted in pleasure just eggs him on more. You can hear the sound of your wetness every time his hips collide with yours, your arousal seeping out of your abused hole.

“Oh my god!” you mewl out, your eyes closing.

“Feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he asks. All you can do is nod, tears beginning to form under your closed eyelids. Benny lets out a smug laugh as he adds, “I mean your legs are shaking, so it must be.”

You’re too far gone to care about his comments anymore. The hand you have in his hair tugs at the strands, causing Benny to curse.

“You’re really eager for me to make you a momma, aren’t ya?” Benny mocks, his attention still on your face. “Don’t worry, baby, I could do this all day.”

Benny moves his head down to put one of your nipples into his mouth, “It won’t be long until these are nice and full. God, you’re gonna look so good carrying my child, I already know it,” he tells you, 

His words cause your walls to involuntarily throb around him. You arch your chest up into his mouth as you keep his head in place, the feeling of his tongue swirling around the pebbles goes straight to your core. He switches his attention to your other breast, his tempo never faltering, as he wraps an arm under your body to pin you closer against him. He hums with your nipple still in his mouth, the deep vibration radiating through your body.

When he feels your walls start to flutter around him again, he pulls his mouth away from your chest to look at you. “Ready to cum again, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimper out with your eyes still closed. 

Benny glances down to where the two of you are connected, noticing the white ring that has appeared at the base of his cock. Benny bites his lip at the sight, but quickly looks back up at your face, not wanting to cum just yet.

“None of that, baby. Open your eyes for me,” you hear him say, and you do, but with your body feeling so heavy you practically have to force your eyes open. “There we go, y’know I like to see those eyes. Go ahead and let go for me.”

He reaches a hand between your bodies, his fingers going straight to your clit. You can’t tell whether or not your body wants to pull away as you dig your nails in the skin of his back. You can feel the slick from you

“Benny, it’s too much,” you breathe out, your head feeling empty.

“No, it’s not. I know you can take it,” he smirks down at you, his hand adding even more pressure to your overstimulated clit.

“Fuck,” you pant.

“C’mon darlin’, give it to me,” Benny murmurs as he continues to do whatever he can to drag you over the edge.

You feel your orgasm building up quickly, your body beginning to tremble underneath him. Your jaw goes slack, but all that comes out are punched out little noises, a result of Benny going even deeper with his thrust. The tears that were stuck behind your eyes begin to come out and stream down the sides of your face.

“Benny, no, i-it’s too much,” you babble, your hands moving to push against his chest.

Benny doesn’t stop though, you and him both know that it’s the last thing you want him to do. “It’s okay, let it out. I’m right there with you,” he groans.

A few more forceful thrusts, and your orgasm is squirting out of you, almost pushing Benny out in the process. You dig your head into the pillow underneath you as your toes curl and your eyes move towards the back of your skull, your jaw slack as you cry out in ecstasy.

Benny goes to let out a small laugh, but is interrupted when a moan is pulled from his throat as his own creamy, white load shoots out of him. He drops his head into your neck as he continues to ride out both of your highs and to push his semen in as far as it will go.

“Damn,” Benny hisses.

Each thrust causes more and more of your clear liquid to gush out around his length.

When he finally comes to a stop, he doesn’t pull out as catches his breath.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he rasps into your ear.

“It usually takes multiple tries to get pregnant,” you joke, but Benny takes it as a challenge.

He turns his head and pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Don’t you worry darling, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Oh. 

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[bellestarot]

Pick a Pile

What's Next in Life?💐

♡ Take your time to choose

︵‿︵‿︵ʚĭɞ‿︵‿︵‿

Pile I

You're about to level up emotionally. I see you moving from getting hurt easily to someone who can handle emotions in a better way. Maybe it was hard for you in the past, but I see some major emotional glow-ups happening.

You're also going to get braver. Life's going to throw some challenges your way that'll help you grow.

Your adventurous side is coming out to play. You'll be at peace exploring and discovering more about yourself. I see you traveling and visiting new places, but you're doing it for yourself, not for anyone else.

You'll be surrounded by awesome people. True and genuine friendships are on their way to you in the next chapter of your life. If you had trouble with friends before, that’s about to change. Great people are coming, and the universe has your back.

You’ve been through a lot, but now you can finally trust in the situation and these new friends. I see so much happiness coming your way!

Pile II

I see success and happiness in something you’ve put a lot of work and effort into for a long time. This could be related to academics, work, or something personal. You’ve worked really hard, staying up late, feeling anxious and tired, but you kept pushing through. There were many moments when you thought about giving up, but you didn’t. Now, I see a lot of abundance coming your way in the next chapters of your life.

People will be congratulating you and happy for you because you achieved what you wanted.

I also see some family issues. This won't apply to everyone who chose Pile 2, but some of you might relate to what I’m saying. Maybe some of you have issues with your mom or a strong female figure in the family.

There might be problems related to money or how money is used in the family, causing feelings of sadness. These are more emotional issues rather than health-related ones.

I see some disappointment with the family in certain areas. However, any conflict you might have with a female figure in the family will get resolved. Having this kind of relationship can hurt a lot, but I see it ending and getting better. So, for some of you, this might be a message of support and positivity regarding a connection that's not going well right now, and I can say it will definitely improve in the next chapters.

Pile III

I see you getting savvier about other people. In the past, you might have been too nice, always wanting to help others, but when you needed help, no one was there for you. I see you starting to notice this around you and saying, "No, I don’t want that for myself." You’re becoming smarter about what you share with others and what you post online.

You’ll start realizing that everything is energy and that sometimes people don’t have good vibes or thoughts for you. This will lead you to protect your energy more.

You’re going to become very spiritual. (You’re already spiritual since you’re reading tarot), but I see you diving even deeper. You’ll get more interested in this world, studying more, listening to others, and connecting more with nature.

This will bring you closer to your truth and who you are, and I see that’s what you’re looking for—getting to know yourself better, discovering more about you, praying, and protecting yourself. I see you becoming a very spiritual person in the next chapters of your life.

You used to listen more than you spoke, but now I see you speaking up, sharing your opinions. There might have been some hesitation, wondering if people will like what you say or if it makes sense. But I see you finding the courage to express yourself and your thoughts. You’re super smart and interested in things that others might not be paying attention to.

I see you getting into these topics and being able to talk about them in an engaging and well-expressed way.

[petersnya]

Blue jeans | Benny Cross

Pairing. Benny Cross x afab!reader

Prompt. ‘Told you when we met what you were in for.’

Warnings. Slight spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie yet!, angst (like a lot) cause that mane Benny needs a hug fr, language (cussing), one mention of character death, smoking cigarettes anddddd I think that’s it

Note. Tried to write the dialogue the best way I could to go along with the movie and how they talk in Chicago but I most likely didn’t do as well as I think I did cause I’m from Mississippi (yeah country asf living in the southern belt) and sometimes you can see it in my writing lmao. Got the inspo to write this form the song blue jeans cause it’s LITERALLY about him you can’t tell me otherwise. Also, Kathy is the star of this movie I swear. Anywho enjoy 😇

Wc. 3.2k+ (gah damn)

None of this was your speed. The grown men crowded around the bar from the front doors to the back wall, all huddled into groups like they were planning something. Earrings hanging out some of their ears while others had their belly buttons showing - the coils of chest hair damp with sweat as visible as ever, but it was obvious that they couldn’t care less. From the moment you opened the door, clouds of cigarette smoke that outweighed the amount of oxygen there was puffed into your face. It swirled around so much that you could see it in the air. And the way they spoke - you couldn’t believe your ears. It was all ‘F’ this and ‘F’ that so much that it could drive a person up the wall or make their ears bleed. 

Oh, these guys were animals. But they all had one thing in common— the jacket they wore. 

Walking in, you kept your head down as you shoved past all the bozos that made it almost impossible to get to the table your aunt was waving you over from, so you didn’t get a good look at them. You didn’t want to get a good look at them; by first glance, you’d seen enough. 

It was obvious that you didn’t fit in with a single person in that bar. Hands gripped at your hips as you passed through the crowd - a blatant look of almost disgust and fear on your face. When you sat down, a shaky breath escaped your lips as you scanned the bar, wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You could hear your aunt telling you to calm down— that these guys just wanted to have a little fun.

No matter how bad you didn’t want to stare, you couldn’t help it. Gaze locked on the back of one of the guys' jackets, you could see the patches that littered it with all kinds of words and symbols; but on the back, there was a skull with big white letters above it—

“Vandals— the hell you got me in here with these guys for?” you said in a low voice like you were afraid one of them might hear you.

“Whatever, niece, these guys ain’t all that bad.”

“I don’t even know what a Vandal is,” the look on her face told you that she didn’t either. Of course you knew about these ‘motorcycle clubs’ that keep popping up all over the midwest, but you never put a second thought to it. They were a bunch of guys that had too much time on their hands— with that time, they sat around and talked about bikes all day while getting stoned and drunk. 

It was obvious that they were, in fact, one of these clubs. The moment you pulled up to the bar, there were rows upon rows of motorcycles out front. That sight alone made you get back in your car and contemplate driving off. You didn't want anything to do with any club, that's why you had been so alert since you got there. Eyes darting around to try and keep an eye on all of the men that were in your view.

“And that's exactly what your problem is, niece, you're such a square.”

“I’m not a square… I’m just not stupid.” An audible scoff came from her at your words. You could see her get up from the table out of the corner of your eye as you continued to look around the bar. She’d said something about getting a drink before she left, but you couldn’t focus on her right then - too busy trying to hear what the group of guys huddled near your table were plotting. They had to have been plotting something, cause who just gets in a huddle with their arms around each other to ‘talk’? People who plot shit.

After waiting a little while for your aunt to return, you couldn’t take it anymore. Lord knows you didn't want to be in this place any way, let alone by yourself. You stood from your seat and tried to look around people who were in your way to see if you could see where she had gone. But you didn’t.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you sat back in your chair reluctantly with a scowl on your face. Arms folded across your chest, you tried to look as unapproachable as possible to everyone who passed by your table.

“What’s with the look?”

A deep, almost gravely voice came from beside you - where your aunt had been sitting before. It should have scared you, but it was soothing to hear. You turned towards the voice to be met with a tall, lean yet muscular man who stood before you. A few tattoos littered his arms from what the sleeveless shirt allowed you to see. Two chunky-ish rings blinged in the dim lighting above the table. His dirty blonde hair matches the bit of stubble on his face.

Staring, wide eyed at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak— or to blink. You had never seen a man like this a day in your life. He didn’t look like the rest of those animals in this bar. Hell, he looked better than any man outside this bar.

Swinging a chair around towards you, he sat close enough to where you could feel his breath fan against your face. The look in his eyes was amusing and expecting as he waited for you to answer his question. But you couldn’t. You just stared at him.

From the moment you saw him, in the best way possible— he made your eyes burn.

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, resting his chin on his forearms. “I’m Benny.”

“Hi…” You said breathlessly. That same slick smile on his lips, he stood from his chair wordlessly, running his hand along the back of yours before walking away.

-

Your arms folded across your chest tightly as you waited to cross the street right outside the bar to get to your car. There were no other cars coming, but you were still waiting for the ‘walk’ signal. Crisp air blew harshly against your ears to the point where they hurt— but that was the last of your thoughts. Every other thought in your mind was clouded or disappeared. All of them were taken over by the thought of him. Of Benny.

He was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His image burned into your head: the black, sleeveless shirt that showed off his tattooed arms. Dark washed blue jeans. Blue eyes that looked as if they had everything to hide. Bruised hands that had two large rings, but his hands made them look small. Stubbled face. It was like James Dean. Everything about him was the opposite of you— a match made in heaven.

The bar door opened behind you, making you look over your shoulder. Benny walked out of the bar, hand digging out a cigarette and a lighter. You watched, unable to look away as he placed the cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand around it so the wind wouldn’t blow out the fire from the lighter. He stuffed the lighter into his Vandals jacket pocket, swinging his leg over his bike before kicking it as hard as he could. The engine roared loudly that it sounded like it would break down any minute. The sound of it made you jump, pulling you back to reality.

A blinking light flashed, telling you that you could walk across the street - but you stood there - arms still folded, eyes burning from your stare, lips chapped from the air.

Benny twisted the handle of his bike, looking over his shoulder at you wordlessly. Taking a long pull before blowing the smoke out slowly. The sight made your head fuzzy, it was beautiful.

The bar doors opened again and people came rushing out. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden yelling and chanting. You had no clue what the hell they were on about, but when you looked back at Benny, you could see him scoot forward on his bike while looking at you with a crooked smile. Your steps were slow as you approached his bike, eventually reaching it and placing your hands on his shoulders gently.

Swinging your leg over and settling on the seat, you could feel Bennys hand cup around the back of your knee, moving you closer to him before he kicked at the bike again and took off through the red light.

Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. As many stop lights as he's run from the time you got onto that bike-- you should be terrified for your life. Your eyes shut tightly each time he sped between cars. Each time, you gripped onto him harder.

His same laugh from earlier reached your ears. “I got you. Don’t worry, dove, okay?”

Nodding against his shoulder, you opened your eyes to see that you were approaching the highway. A smile spread onto your lips softly at the sight of the open road. No one else in sight for miles.

Just you and Benny.

-

“Benny, where are you going?” Your voice was soft, words slightly mumbled from you biting nervously at your thumbnail as you watched Benny from the doorway, pulling on his Vandals jacket hurriedly.

“Gotta go meet Johnny.” His words were almost dismissive as he picked up his bike keys, shoving them in his pocket with his cigarettes. Of course. You knew that the club was Bennys family… Johnny was like his father. But the club isn't the same anymore. It’s not how it was when you met Benny. So much had changed in a year. You married Benny within weeks of meeting him. You became a part of his life— his riding, his loyalty to the club, his hospital visits, his fights, his lawyers and jail cells.

He moved in with you and everything you knew changed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Benny in your house or a part of your life. You loved him with everything in you. Any time the phone would ring, your heart stopped, thinking something had happened to Benny… again. But now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was all you cared for. But this fucking club.

You couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn’t so bad at first. Sure, you had to get used to the drinking and smoking and Benny being out till 4 in the morning almost every. Single. Night. But the club was like a second family now. Until Brucie died.

Benny didn’t seem to be phased by any of it though. Brucies death, the drug deals being ran all the way from Canada, the new members who challenged Johnny everyday of his life. Of course, you knew Benny was seeing what you were seeing. But he still stayed with the club. Even after all the messed up shit that had been happening that made you tell him that it was getting out of hand— he still defended it.

“Meet Johnny for what..?” your words were hesitant as you took a step into the door, eyes scanning over Benny. He avoided your gaze, something he's been doing a lot recently. Since you had met Benny, he always stares into your eyes as if he were searching them. He didn’t do that anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I'll be back later tonight.”

“Benny.” You said his name. Louder this time. His Blue eyes reluctantly trailed up to yours, brows raising once to show you that he was listening. Shrugging your shoulders, you shook your head slowly. You couldn’t find the words you wanted to say. You wanted to say so fucking much. You were sick of this life— sick of worrying about where he is, if he's gotten caught up in something that you didn’t know how to get him out of.

He said your name in an almost hushed voice, gaining your attention.

Taking a shaky breath, your wide, tired eyes found him. “I don’t know how much more of this you can take, Benny.” He dropped his head, shaking it as a dry chuckle escaped his lips. “The hell are you goin’ on about, dove.”

Bennys’ voice always had so much power over you. His words and the way he used them had so much more. The way he called you dove. In the early days of the two of you, Benny told you that he called you dove cause you were too pure for him. Too different— perfect, almost. He said that you could fly away from him at any given moment, but you never did. That meant the world to him. Your loyalty to him reminded him of why he loved you so much: you’d never go anywhere, no matter what he did. No matter what happened.

“You’re gonna sit here and tell me what I can and can’t take?” He said as he propped himself up against the dresser behind him.

“No, Benny, that's not what I’m sayin’.” You stepped closer to him, arms still folded across your chest. “I’m sayin’... I can’t handle worrying about you every second of every day. I worry even when you're next to me cause everytime I look at you, I see how drained you look. I don’t like seeing that when I look at you— it hurts me”

Benny lifted his head to look into your eyes. Your eyes searched his relentlessly, trying to find something in them— but it was the same as it was when you met him. Like he was hiding the world behind those pretty blue eyes. “I’ll leave then.”

“What?” Your face dropped as your arms fell slack at your side. “Don’t do this right now.” Benny had a bad habit of every single time something went wrong, and you came to him with a pained look on your face, he would tell you that he would just leave so that you didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He said it so much that it made you think he just said it so that you would beg him not to. Of course, Benny would never be that cruel to you. He never said things to just hurt you. He meant what he said, the only reason he never followed through was because he would think of you.

“Then don’t- don’t come to me with this again. We’ve talked about this before.”

“Well, we need to talk about it again. I don’t want you in the club no more, and I mean that.” You had never been so direct with your request as you were being right now, always afraid of what he would say. Afraid he would choose the club over you.

“Don’t ask me that…” His voice was cold, but you could hear the bit of pain in his words. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Do you not remember how we were before the club started changing? Don’t you remember the night we met?” Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you stood close to him now. Before the Vandals went to shit, you and Benny seemed perfect. To everyone on the outside, they would say that your relationship was far from it, but you didn’t think that. You would go with Benny to every meeting, every ride, every picnic. You would lay on his chest and sit in complete silence while you watched whatever was on TV. He would take you for rides at all hours of the night. Speeding past every stop sign in sight as he whispered to you to hold onto him tight. To never let him go. When things began to get bad, but not as out of control as it was now, Benny tried to tell you that he wasn't good for you anymore; but it was too late now. You were too in love with him.

“I barely get to see you now. You go out every night doing God knows what with them, and you don't show up until the next night. But it didn’t matter to me cause I told you that no matter what, I'll be by your side.” The tears that you held onto for dear life eventually fell, rolling down your cheeks as you brought your hand to his face. You gently tilted his head to look at you— fingers rubbing his cheeks with all the care in the world. “I love you more than any of them ever could, Benny. I want a life with you, and we can't have that if you keep up with them.”

His eyes found yours as he silently looked at you. Bennys’ lip twitched so slightly that it almost went unnoticed. Bringing his thumb to your cheek, he wiped away a fresh tear that was falling from your eye at that very moment.

“Told you when we met what you were in for.”

His words cut you more than any knife could. Kissing your finger that was closest to his lips, he wrapped his hands around your wrist, he pulled them from his face gently. He stood fully, causing you to back away, looking at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. You were scared. “Benny? Benny, what are you doing?” You said urgently.

He walked out of the room and down the small hallway, towards the front door. “I’ll be back, dove, I promise.”

“No- No, Benny! Benny, don’t you walk out that door—“ Your voice broke with sobs as you followed behind him, tugging at his shoulders and arms desperately. He could leave. You couldn’t let him leave. It didn’t matter if he said he’d be back-- that could be days later. Weeks, maybe months. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of years. “Please, please don’t leave… I swear Benny if you walk out that door.”

He paused for a moment, standing in the open doorway. You stood behind him, close enough to where he could hear you choking back your cries. Benny hated himself for making you worry so much. He hated himself for making you cry. You were his girl, his wife, his dove. He never wanted to hurt you.

Wordlessly, he stepped out of the door, slamming it behind him before quickly going down the steps of your front porch. Getting out the keys for his bike, he sat on the tearing leather seat quickly as he kicked at it when the key was in the ignition. He sped down the road, through all the stop signs.

You wanted to scream after him, but you didn’t. Instead, you locked the door and rested your forehead against it as it pounded from your sobs. No matter how many times Benny leaves, how many times you cry over him or for him, your feelings for him will never change. You would always wait for him to come back to you.

Your loyalty belongs to him. Your love belongs to him. You belong to him.

[semperamans]

Ever since seeing the bts pics of Bennys rings I keep imagining one of Benny’s possessive traits is putting one of his rings on you 😍😍 something small but also loud so everyone knows you’re his

i started barking :(

"what about this one?" you ask, tipping your head back until it rests at the junction between benny's neck and shoulder. you're peering up at him with those inquisitive eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion. the club meeting ended hours ago which meant the party began shortly thereafter. now there's more beer splattered on the floor than going into the slurring mouths of the boys, a broken window, and a rowdy game a pool going on, but nothing can penetrate the bubble of you and benny. you've got his hand in yours, pointing at the silver rings that bedeck his callused fingers. "ah," benny takes a swig of his beer. "belonged to my pops." the ring in question is massive and studded with diamonds. when he tilts it you can make out the initials B.C. "he, uh, fought in the great war. came home, bought this, gave it to my mom." he wets his lips. shrugs his shoulders. "when he died she, uh, she gave it to me. then a few years later she followed 'em, so." you don't really know what to say. it's the most you've ever heard about his family, most you've ever heard him talk in one go, if you're honest. "s'very special, then." you finally say. it makes benny grin. "sure is. now c'mere. let me look at you." he unfurls his arm from your shoulders, holding both your hands in one of his. your nails are painted, a blush pink instead of your signature bubblegum. "i don't have any pretty rings," you tell him, slightly embarrassed. then he makes your heart explode. he slides off the band, the one he just told you about, the one that belonged to his parents and held so much meaning, and slides it onto your ring finger. "s'little big for you. but we can fix that." and you're babbling because no way! there is no way you're taking something so precious to him, but he shushes you. "gonna put a ring there one day regardless. might as well be now."

[cllightning81]

Best Friends Part 2 [OP81]

Summary : After telling the grid that you're married there's now a rumour that you're hiding a child

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Wife!Reader, Logan Sargeant x reader, F1 Grid x Reader

Warning/s : Pregnancy, kind of a weird one I just wanted to end this fic before my weekly exam panic

Word Count : 1.4k

Masterlist

Oscar Piastri Masterlist

Coming Soon

Taglist

The next weekend in the paddock felt a little different. There was a rumour circulating on social media that one of the drivers had a hidden child. Obviously, you and Oscar had caught on to the rumour. 

The rumour was about yourself and Oscar, except it wasn’t true. Logan was yet to catch onto the rumour and was in a mood with yourself and Oscar, having not seen you yet to ask about it. 

It was just a media day today, and Oscar was going to the drivers press conference today so he could clear any rumours up on that side. As for Logan in between meetings, you went to find him. 

Finding him moping in his drivers room, you sat on the massage table looking at him 

“Came to tell me something?” He asked, causing you to laugh 

“Logan. You were at our house last week. Like not our hotel room, our actual house, where did you see the signs that we have kids?” You asked, causing him to frown in thought 

“I didn’t?” He questioned 

“Exactly. Someone obviously caught Oscar and I talking about you” You smiled moving to sit next to him 

“About me?” He asked, causing you to nod 

“We had been trying to get Lando to catch on that we were together for ages, so we resorted to calling you our son, jokingly at first until we realised that you basically are like our son. Even if you’re older than him you’re still our kid” You rubbed his back, and he nodded 

“Now I heard you’ve got interviews to do” You smiled, and he groaned

“Come on. I’ll come with you” Logan got up, walking out the room as you followed behind him. In the main garage, Emma explained the plan to Oscar as you spoke to Elias about Logan. 

Being new to training Logan, Elias was struggling to reach him and understand certain things about him that Benny used to understand because they’d been working together for the past seven years. Luckily for Elias, you were willing to help him understand Logan, and Mclaren didn’t really care knowing your strong bond with him. 

That night, there was a grid dinner where all the drivers were meeting for dinner. Looking at the outfit you had on in the mirror deciding if that’s what you actually wanted to wear to the dinner. Oscar’s hands slid around your waist as you looked at him, though the mirror 

“What do you think? The dress just doesn’t feel like me, but I didn’t really pack anything else except Mclaren uniforms and work out clothes” You asked, resting your head against his shoulder 

“I think it looks beautiful, love. No matter what you wear, you look beautiful, especially when you’re not wearing anything” He smirked, pressing kisses to your neck. 

“I’ll just put my shoes on and finish up then. I won’t be long” You smiled, turning in his arms so you were now facing him. Snaking your arms around his neck to pull him down so you could kiss him. Pressing your lips against his as he smiled into the kiss. 

“What do you think about having kids?” Oscar asked as you fixed your jewellery 

“I mean I’ve always wanted kids, but you know that” You frowned, looking at him through the mirror 

“Yeah I know. I just wanted to ask your opinion. I’ve got a contract with Mclaren for at least another two years. We've been married for a little while now. Obviously not very long, but we’ve been friends since kids” He explained 

“You think it’s the perfect time to have a kid don’t you?” You asked, turning to face him. Oscar nodded, looking down at the ground 

“Look if you’re not ready just now or you don’t want to, then that’s okay. I was just thinking. The rumour really made me start thinking” He sighed, and you took a couple of steps to reach him. Taking his hands in your own hands with a smile. 

 “Osc. I think it’s a perfect time. Working nine months from now would be winter break. I think we should” You smiled, and he looked up at you

“Really? Do you want to do it just now?” He asked, and you nodded

“I very much do. I think we should start tonight” You hummed with a smirk as you kissed him 

“Don’t have to tell me twice” He hummed, picking you up as he walked out of the bathroom. Your giggles filled the room as he kissed your neck

An hour later sat around the table with the rest of the grid and their plus ones or more depending if their kids were there in some circumstances. Oscar sat to your right with his hand resting on your thigh as Logan was sat on your left, sitting in a booth meant you were squashed in between them. 

Logan was playing with the fingers on your hand, obviously feeling very awkward with the conversation he was involved in. Looking at Oscar glancing at Logan's hand, Oscar caught on. Reaching behind your back and pressing a hand on to Logan’s shoulder 

Logan turned to you both with a smile before looking down at his hand 

“Oh shoot. Y/N I’m sorry” He dropped your hand, and you smiled softly 

“Logan, it's okay. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay” you whispered, and he nodded

“I’m okay. I guess I just needed my hands to do something” He shrugged, and you nodded, holding your hand out for him again. Oscar smiled, joining in a conversation with Lando and Charles. 

“So how come you didn’t announce the relationship?” Lando asked, and you turned your head to see him 

“Don’t need to announce it. We never hid it” Oscar shrugged 

“We announced it to Zak and Andrea, though. Oh, and had to fill out the HR forms” You shrugged 

“Next thing you’ll be announcing that you’re expecting” Charles joked, and you glanced at Oscar with a small laugh

“Don’t tell me you are!” Lando exclaimed, catching Logan’s attention 

“What? After our conversation this morning?” He asked, and you shook your head 

“Logs. You’d be the first to know if we were expecting after our conversation this morning. Actually, I have a feeling I wouldn’t even need to announce it to you” You joked 

“We’re not pregnant Logan” Oscar chuckled as you rested your head on Logan’s shoulder. Logan went back to his conversation with Lily and Alex while Oscar went back into his conversation with Lando and Charles as you spoke with Alexandra about her studies. 

When the food arrived, the long table settled into quiet conversations normally with the person next to them. However, there were a few conversations going down the table 

“I heard you got a puppy” You smiled, turning to Charles and Alexandra 

“Oh he’s just the cutest” Kika joined in with a smile 

“Yeah he is pretty cute” Charles nodded

“So, Y/N, Oscar, got anything or anyone you need to share with us?” Charles asked, and you shook your head along with Oscar. 

“The rumour of us having a child is very much a rumour kinda” You shrugged as Lando’s head whipped around 

“Kinda?” Lando questioned 

“We’ve got a grid kid” You shrugged 

“Two” Oscar corrected, and now Logan’s head whipped around 

“Two?” He questioned 

“You and Ollie” you shrugged 

“Ollie? Bearman?” Lando quizzed, causing you and Oscar to nod.

When you got back to the hotel that night, everything was a little different. As normal, Logan had joined the two of you now sitting on the hotel room couch as he scrolled on his phone. 

Sat on the edge of the bed between Oscar’s legs, your head resting against his shoulder as you had a silent debate with him. 

“Hey Logs” You looked over at him as Oscar’s arms wrapped around your body. Logan looked over to you both with a smile 

“What’s up?” He asked, putting his phone down 

“So Oscar and I were talking before dinner, and we wanted you to know this beforehand obviously being our son” Oscar and Logan both laughed at the end of it. 

“This isn’t something you typically share with people, but we felt you should probably know” Oscar added, and Logan got up with a frown 

“What?” He questioned, sitting next to you both 

“We’re thinking about having a baby” You explained, and he nodded 

“That’s great. Can I be godfather and uncle?” He asked, and you laughed 

“I’m sure we can make that happen if we end up having a child” You smiled, giving him a hug 

Tag List

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[hotvintagepoll]

Trying to get more into old movies because of this blog (I only know about half of these people and feel like a poser) do you have good recommendations on where to start or is it just a situation where you watch stuff and find what you like as you go?

you are not a poser <3 i myself am just here for the hotties.

here is my quick and dirty list of fun films to start with if you're new to old movies. and of course if you like one of these, do try to find more stuff as you go! there's no bad way to try out old movies.

(this list is not official and is SUPER quick. i'm tagging for content warnings where I can, but if I forgot something let me know.)

"I want to watch something SILLY!"

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone)—everyone in this movie is hot. everyone is in fancy medieval dress, which makes them hotter. everyone here is very silly. You can stream this on Hoopla, last time i checked, so you might be able to stream it through your library!

Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (Dick Van Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries, Gert Frobe)—some people hate this movie and to them I say What Is Wrong With You. dick van dyke is a hot absent minded inventor who lives in a windmill with his two adorable children, his gorgeous sheepdog, and a grandfather who is categorically useless. it feels like the two films mary poppins (1964) and willy wonka (1971) had a baby and that baby was born on roller skates singing an old broadway showtune. this one has been showing up in some odd places lately—I think you can catch it on Tubi or Hoopla? It's definitely around.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar, Howard Keel, Russ Tamblyn)—my problematic fave. everytime i watch this i change my mind whether it's a sexist pile of garbage or a feminist paean, and fellas, today we're on the feminist paean bandwagon!! jane powell's millie is truly the star of the movie, she is the hero she drives the plot the narrative is on her side, and besides all that there are seven very hot men dancing next to her and six beautiful ladies making me bisexual. (on Tubi last I checked.)

The Duke Is Tops (Lena Horne, Laurence Criner)—I get a huge kick out of watching Laurence Criner and Ralph Cooper swindle everybody while also trying to put on a show; there's just something silly and sincere here, plus you get a ~musical extravaganza~ at the end when all is right as rain again. Free on YouTube I think?

"I want to watch something DRAMATIC that may make me FEEL SOMETHING."

Witness for the Prosecution (Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, Elsa Lanchester)—I love a campy twisty turny mystery, don't you? :) I'm not going to talk about this one much because it's better to go in blind, but if you like Agatha Christie stories you'll probably like this.

To Be Or Not To Be (Carole Lombard, Jack Benny)—always relevant, always makes me laugh, also makes me cry. this takes place in poland during wwii so big tw for nazi imagery and mentions. (don't worry. this movie fucking hates nazis.)

Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)—this one is Great Cinema™™™™™™™™™™™ for a goddamned reason

"I want to watch some stuff with the scrungles in it!"

Mr. Washington Goes to Town (Mantan Moreland)—I've been checking out more of Mantan Moreland's stuff because every time I see him in something I think he's delightful, and I really enjoyed this silly-spooky comedy. Does this story have a brain cell? No. Are the special effects and goofy slapstick fun? Yes. This is a fun example of an all-Black cast in a film that was made for Black audiences, and is a striking counterpoint to the stereotypical representation Black actors were given in white-targeted films, showing the enormous amount of talent and artistry the racist studios missed out on by excluding these actors. This is not A Great Film™ but it's still A Fun Time,™ with a goofy Laurel and Hardy type vibe. (It's free on Youtube.)

The Red Shoes (Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine, Marius Goring)—hey kid, you wanna watch something fucked up? This movie is so fucked up. It's about ballet, it's about art, it's about technicolor, it's about dance and toxic relationships and making theatre and nightmares and ambition and death. A lot of these recs tend on the silly side (because I tend on the silly side) but this one is actually Serious Film and will definitely help you chat up Martin Scorsese should you ever meet him. Big content warning if you can't handle dark themes right now—this movie's pretty dark, not in the gore way but in the Haunting Creepy Image way. (it's also free on Tubi and Kanopy most of the time.)

The Invisible Man (Claude Rains)—my favorite of the vintage horror flicks and a great introduction to Most Dunked On Hot Vintage Man of All Time, Claude Rains. (it helps that you barely ever see him!) Very very silly but the special effects are just plain fun. (I think this is on Internet Archive in full?)

"Can I just get more hot people please?"

Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo)—there are so many unbelievably hot people in this movie which is somehow very good (thanks to its cast) and also incredibly, horrifically bad (thanks to its white team of writers, directors, and producers). on the one hand, it's a mostly Asian cast in a big budget, beautifully designed MGM style musical! there's dream sequences, lots of fun dancing, crooning Rogers & Hammerstein cabaret moments, and just charm galore. it is also freighted with so. many orientalist assumptions and stereotypes, absolutely ridiculous shit that the writers ABSOLUTELY should have known better about in the 60s and nonetheless carried into this. this is a hard one to recommend because I loved this cast, and I loved seeing them in a context beyond the usual stereotypical bit parts so many of them frequently were limited to—yet the movie itself perpetuates so many stereotypes on its own it can be a hard one to watch, and I totally understand if it does not work for most people. tl;dr watch for Shigeta, Kwan, Umeki, and the others, but content warnings galore for one (really bad) case of yellowface casting, orientalist tropes, extremely stereotypical character types, etc. (On Tubi/Kanopy last I checked.)

Charade (Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn)—this movie feels like a Hitchcock movie except I had a ton of fun watching it, which I can't always say for a Hitch film. (I told you my taste was bad.) This one is free on YouTube and thank god because Audrey wears a lot of Givenchy, Cary Grant wears spectacles and keeps almost dying, it's very exciting and thrilling and funny and sexy. I don't think there are any content warnings but it's been a minute since I watched it. (I should go watch it right now.)

The Big Sleep (Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall)—they're so hot askjdljhjghladkghjksahkhgslkahgshskjhgsalhgsahgjh. i like this one a lot :)

[this is NOT A FULL LIST of all the hot vintage movies to start with but it might give you some starting places! i banged this out as quick as I could at 2 am, so apologies that it's sloppy and not perfect.]

[joelscruff]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

You raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe those boxes can serve a purpose today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And immediately drop it to the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

....Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mierda," he groans - shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a sigh, you shakily hand him the polaroid.

He flips it.

And drops it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Frankie wanted to help.

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

A look of confusion. "Help?"

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

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

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

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

Frankie had been under the sheet in minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And god, did he ever.

The first real mission was brutal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A blowjob is not kinky, Ben."

"Getting one from a guy is."

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

"What'd you have in mind?"

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

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

Until-

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

"How so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frankie nodded slowly, a lump forming in his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence. Then-

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

"Open up, Fish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Swallow," Santi whispered, and Frankie obeyed.

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

"Good boy."

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

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

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

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

Four loads now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Santi raised an eyebrow, "Mine?"

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

"You can tell?"

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, their first mission was a success.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would he be in Santiago's bed?

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

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

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

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

You start typing out a message.

[hellishjoel]

can't stop thinking about gamer boyfriend!frankie

smut warning* sub!frankie* 937 words

he's so thankful that you understand his friends are overseas or long distance, so this is as much as they get to catch up and hangout

it's cute the way he talks to them over the mic, all excited and giddy. his fingers move so quickly over the keyboard or the controller depending on what they're playing

he sets you up with snacks and a blanket, pulling the comfy living room chair right next to his gaming setup so you can be right there with him (if you want to be)

and more often than not, you actually do enjoy watching him play. he's good, and maybe there's something related to a competency kink tied in there? because you're watching him win win win and he's better than anyone he plays against, sometimes you can't help but get a little tingle that shoots up your spine. confident and cocky

and the way he whips his head over to you, checking to see if you caught that round-saving win, a big smile plastered on his face as he squeezes your leg

your interest in watching soon turns into an interest to play - and he's eager to teach you one of his favorite hobbies

plants you right on his lap and wraps his fingers over yours around the controller to start. cozy games or open worlds, whatever you prefer. as long as his hard chest is pressed against your back and his whispers of right there, good girl are present

you never have to worry about feeling left out or put to the side as frankie always put you first. if you'd rather do something else with your time together, he's quick to say goodbye to his friends and put his focus on you

just to see how he reacts, you find yourself under his desk one night, pulling down his shorts just enough to get his cock out

his shuddered breath hits the mic - but other than that, he's speechless. his lips part and there's a pleading look in his eyes. one hand leaves his keyboard and it moves to cradle the back of your head, urging you closer to his leaking tip

"keep playing," you whisper, wrapping your hand around his cock and laying your head to rest against his warm thigh

how is he supposed to focus? how is he supposed to keep playing? maybe you're a sadist to say you like watching him struggle to do so, but knowing you have this affect on him makes your pussy flutter with excitement

he tries to keep talking in the mic, tries to keep playing, tries to ignore how fucking good it feels to have you stroking his cock

but it's ultimately pointless, because nothing feels better than this

you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, tongue tracing the thick vein. you wrap your lips around his beady tip, suckling gently as he hisses into the mic, fingers clenched in your hair as precum lands on your tongue

your wide, innocent eyes meet his, and he's completely wrecked. you've barely had your mouth on more than an inch of him and he's ready to rip the headset off

"please," he whispers, begs

and he's always such a good man for you, because needy is sexy

you slowly inch yourself further down his cock, your hot mouth and tight throat taking him in one go

"oh, fuck," he groans, eyes closing as his head hits the back of his desk chair.

"frankie? you good, bro?" it's undoubtedly Benny's voice, always chipper and a little oblivious

"y-yeah, shit, sorry," frankie gulps, nipping at his lower lip to try and keep his sighs stifled

you don't slow down, you're even speeding up. once his dick is lathered in spit, you're bobbing your head up and down with ease. he's thick in your throat and it's impossible not to gag around him. the hand wrapped in your hair is getting a bit pushy, a bit assertive

he needs it so bad that he's willing to take you, and fuck if you don't find that sexy

the game is well abandoned by now. his teammates are complaining that he's afk (away from keyboard) but frankie can't find the will to pull you off. the pleasure is too good

he pushes his desk chair back a few inches and you're eagerly trailing on your knees to rest between his thick thighs, cock still well and taken in your mouth. you swallow around him and sigh weakly against his length, feeling spit dribble down your lower lip and leaking down to his balls

he pulses inside your mouth, a tell of how close he is. so ready to spew, to give himself up. but he knows who is in charge here

shaky hands mute his mic and the headset is tossed on the floor

"can I please cum in that pretty mouth, baby? fuck, make me feel so good, please lemme cum," he pants

of course you let him, but the only way you can tell him is by nodding

no more than a few seconds later, he's filling your mouth and throat with his spend. white, musky cum leaks onto your tastebuds and he's fighting with all the will in his body to not take over and buck his hips while he cascades through his finish

you gasp for air as the hand in your hair loosens, fixing his softening cock back into his shorts. licking your lips, your glassy eyes meet his with a tired smile

"fuck, get on the bed, baby," he mutters, already puling you up off the floor

"what about your game?"

"don't care, take off your panties"

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch

summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

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

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop. 

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now. 

It doesn’t happen. 

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back. 

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves. 

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been. 

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows. 

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’ 

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’ 

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’ 

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’ 

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch. 

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly. 

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly. 

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest. 

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too. 

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him.  He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared. 

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’ 

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’ 

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed. 

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze. 

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips. 

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan. 

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain. 

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’ 

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’ 

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is. 

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch. 

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly. 

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’ 

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’ 

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes. 

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it. 

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door. 

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming - 

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut. 

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress. 

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers. 

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction. 

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can. 

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again. 

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass. 

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar. 

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little. 

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip. 

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror. 

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin. 

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already. 

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’ 

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind. 

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously. 

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies. 

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant. 

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face. 

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple. 

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers. 

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’ 

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much. 

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside. 

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned. 

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you. 

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering. 

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it aches, Frankie,’ you whine, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What aches?’ He breathes, and he’s tilting forwards towards the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to rest at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup yourself, as you grind against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge in his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

It's easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s dying of thirst and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass. 

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, rutting against your palm. 

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing in the control that he shifts so easily to you. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window. 

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at him.

‘Is it good?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and leaking. 

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken, blue veins just hidden beneath the surface.  You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle. 

Your hips lift as he begins to fuck himself slowly with his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to cup his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly steady circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining muscles in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

Frankie answers with his own choked moan as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself more, hermosa. Another. Know you need it, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another finger easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the quiet around you, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Does that feel good?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a beautiful shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you. 

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, please, hermosa. You oblige, sliding another of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I need to watch you come.’ And you obey, seizing, pussy gripping your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a whine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his spend trickle over his knuckles, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and taking it on your own fingertips to swipe against your lips, and it’s like Frankie reads your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So fucking bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue sweeping between the digits, beneath your nails, moaning at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie groans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on. 

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone. 

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’ 

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’ 

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly. 

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning. 

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’ 

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser. 

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos. 

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you. 

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped. 

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch. 

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance. 

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good. 

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad. 

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need. 

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up. 

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again. 

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long. 

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further. 

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat. 

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait. 

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt. 

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’ 

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious. 

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder. 

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound. 

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently. 

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming. 

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’ 

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs. 

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk. 

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him. 

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill. 

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Impressions

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Notes: Idk y'all my brain spit this out. I haven’t written Will in, like…..100 years?

Rating: Mature - mostly for language

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, fluff. Not beta-read.

Length: 7.5K

Summary: Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

GIF by charllehunnam

Your first impression of Will Miller is technically...Good.

It's from Benny, is the thing.

You hear the sweet and the sour, the grumbling when Benny is training at the gym alone in the mornings—"He's a hard ass, but he means well."

It's said with a little smile, with sibling love and familiarity that tells you that Ben and Will have told each other to go fuck themselves just as much as they've said that they're proud of one another.

Your second impression of Will comes from Terry.

Terrence Owen McLowery is your best friend, your informal trainee, and is currently ranked in the Middleweight division, just a few spots behind Ben Miller (but gaining, and fast). He's one of the few openly gay boxers in your area and in his division, something that he might get more hate for if he couldn't kick the shit out of anyone slagging his name off behind his back.

Terry gets to as many matches as he possibly can, even when he's not fighting in them. You try to join him as often as you can, but there are times when you just can't swing it. He likes to scope out the competition.

"I'm gonna be in there, kickin' their ass one day," He tells you, "I should clock their weaknesses now, not then."

He spends more time ringside than he does in the ring for the sake of observation. And he's seen the Miller brothers at fight after fight.

"You oughta see 'im," Terry says, a dreamy look in his eyes—and you don't know if he's talking about Ben or Will, but you kinda figure it's both. Look, you've met Ben, you wouldn't be surprised if good genes ran in the family.

"He's real level-headed, ringside, even when Ben’s in a jam," Terry adds, and you realize that he's talking about Will, "Kinda like you, but without the taunting."

You roll your eyes a little bit, "You told me the taunting makes you try harder."

"Hmph."

"And I told you a real coach wouldn't do that,” You tack on.

Terry doesn't hmph at that one. He doesn't like it when you point out that you're not a professional coach. You taught him the basics a long time ago, back when the two of you needed to have one another's backs on the playground—and you keep him honest when he's training up now. But Terry needs a coach that'll actually help him in the ring, not do what you do. And sure, you don't do the worst job, but Terry could go further with a professional.

--

Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

--

You’re at the gym early. Terry is supposed to be there, too, but he took a late shift at work and couldn’t drag himself out of bed. You don’t blame him—a body needs rest if you’re going to put it through its paces. You’re striding past the ring at the center of the gym when you spot Ben sparring with another contender in the middleweight division. You spot an error, one that Terry makes frequently himself, and call out,

“Pick up your right shoulder, Miller!” 

The advice incurs a nod from Ben—and a glare from a golden-headed man standing ringside. Something in his cool gaze chastens you, and you hurry on toward the class you signed up for. 

--

“What was with that guy?” You ask Ben later as you’re stretching. 

“What guy?”

“Blonde, bearded…Glaring?” You remind him. Ben’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You mean Will?”

“That was Will?” You ask in a hushed whisper. 

“Yeah. Glaring?”

“He looked like he was trying to melt me with his laser vision.” 

It makes Benny’s laugh boom in the gym, and you glance around to see if you’ve attracted any attention. Sure enough, Will’s not too far off, his arms folded across his chest as he speaks to someone. His gaze darts between Ben and you, and his eyes narrow. 

“Aaaand there it is again,” You mutter, drawing your legs back from the stretch. 

-- 

“Hey,” You hear. You frown, turning back to the source, and find Will striding toward you. You’re about to offer your hand, to introduce yourself—in relation to Ben, or Terry, something—but he speaks again before you can get a word out:

“Ben’s got a fight coming up. He doesn’t need any glove bunnies distracting him.” 

Your mouth was opened to speak, but now your jaw drops, a scoff of indignation flying out. 

“Glove bunnies?” You repeat, stunned. Will waves you off. 

“Whatever Ben does in his own time is none of my business, but when he’s here, and when he’s in the ring, he needs to be focused.” 

Will doesn’t let you get in another word before he’s turning and walking away. You watch him go, stunned. Asshole. Asshole. As you turn to head into the locker room, you remember Ben telling you that he’s a hard ass, but he means well. 

Well-meaning or not, Will Miller is a dick. 

--

“There’s a man outside who’s looking for you,” You hear.

You glance up from your laptop, brows raised at your coworker. It couldn’t be Terry; he’d call or text you, not ask for you. And it can’t be…Actually, you can’t think of any other guy that would come looking for you at work. 

“Did you tell him I was in here?”

“I said I wasn’t sure anyone by that name worked here and that I’d check,” Molly relays. You nod a little bit, muttering, “Solid,” before adding, “He say who he is?” 

“Will Miller?”

You freeze, then, hands hovering over your keyboard. What the hell is Miller doing there? And how does he know where you work?

“Okay,” You nod, “Okay, tell him I’ll be out in a...A minute.” 

“Sure.” Molly starts to drift away from you before she turns, half-jogging back to your desk. 

“He is so hot,” She hisses. You can't help your grudging smile. 

“Yes, he is.” 

Asshole or not, you can agree that Will Miller is annoyingly, startlingly attractive. 

--

The man that meets you outside is a far cry from the one who accosted you at the gym just a week ago. In a well-fitting polo and a pair of khakis, he looks more like a suburban dad than a hardened drillmaster. You stop just a few feet from the door to your office, arms folded tightly over your chest. He clears his throat, approaching you slowly and stopping just a couple of steps from you. 

“Ben had a fight this weekend,” He says. Him starting that way makes your stomach swoop with fear. You immediately worry that something’s gone wrong, that Ben is badly hurt. But Will goes on: 

“He kept his right shoulder up. That little tip saved his ass a few times.” 

Your brows raise. You didn’t expect him to admit it, even if it did help. 

“I saw Terry, too,” Will adds, “And realized precisely how and where I fucked up when he showed me a picture of you.”

Will doesn't look like he's trying to melt you with his heat vision anymore. In fact, he looks...Genuinely remorseful.

“I see,” You nod a little. 

Will pushes a sigh out through his nose. 

“I’m sorry for approaching the situation the way I did. And for calling you a, uh—”

“Glove bunny?”

He winces with the reminder. “Yeah. I didn’t have all of the facts. Even if I had, it was still the wrong way to approach the situation, and I apologize.” 

You take a moment to drink in his face again, as if you’re seeing it for the first time. His blue eyes are soft where they were icy, and the once-harsh press of his lips is replaced with a regretful, almost contemplative pout. And then you nod a touch.

“I appreciate and accept your apology.” 

Something akin to relief seems to wash over him, and he holds his hand out. 

“I’m Will, by the way.” 

“Will?” You repeat, screwing your face up in mock confusion, “Will...Will...That certainly sounds familiar.”

A smile tugs his lips up just a touch as he pumps your hand up and down. 

“I train Ben Miller. I'm his brother,” He adds. 

“Oh, that Will. Right, of course.” 

You let his hand drop and folded your arms across your chest. 

“Blank slate,” You add softly. 

Will’s brows jump. 

“Completely?”

“Well, Ben says you’re a hard ass and Terry thinks you’re dreamy, but I’ll try not to let their impressions color mine.” 

“Pretty mixed reviews.”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you exchange curious smiles before you nod over your shoulder. 

“I’ve gotta get back to work."

“Of course.”

“See you around, Miller.” 

--

“Seriously, Terrence!” You call out as Terry spars with one of the other gym members, “Is this prep or are you trying to waltz him into tapping out?” 

Terry groans, reeling away from his sparring partner. 

“God, you’re a bitch,” He grunts as he walks toward you, bending over for his water. 

“And you’re a dumbass, Billy Elliot. Get back in there.” 

“He’s holding his breath,” You hear. You turn back to see Will Miller coming closer.

“When he punches,” He clarifies. 

“You can tell him,” You offer before you whistle sharply, stopping Terry from stepping more deeply into the ring. You nod toward Will and listen as he offers his tip. Terry takes his time listening, nodding, leaning against the ropes.

“...Think you got it?” You ask.

“Loud and clear,” Terry agrees before turning back to his sparring partner.

You glance over at Will, nodding your chin up. “Thanks."

“Sure,” Will smiles before walking away. Ben’s not too far away, working at a punching bag. You watch Will for a long moment before turning back to Terry in the ring. Terry ducks out of the way of an oncoming jab, and finds time to shoot you a wink before he turns back to his sparring partner. 

--

“Terry—” 

“Come on—” 

“I can’t tonight, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow!” 

“Just a few rounds! Come with me, see Ben in action—and see what I mean about Will ring-side.”

“You just want me to go because you think you’ll be much less conspicuous drooling over them if I’m there.” 

“Maybe.”

“And for the record, you’d be just as conspicuous.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes we do.” 

“Come with meeee," He whines. "If you’re not there, I’ll curse out a redneck bigot and I’ll get in trouble for beating him up in the parking lot.” 

“Well then you and the Millers can tag team.” 

Terry groans loudly, tipping his head back. “Don’t. Don’t even think about putting ‘Miller’ and ‘tag team’ in the same sentence. My mind just went to about eight filthy places.” 

“Just eight?”

“Alright, nine.”

“Terry. Sweetheart. Angel. Not tonight.” 

“Four rounds.” 

“No.” 

“Two rounds.” 

“Terry—”

“Ben’ll probably take ‘em down in one.” 

“I’m sure he’d love that you have so much faith in his skill, but we’ll have to get through the matches before his, and that’ll already be way late.” 

“I won’t make you come to the gym with me tomorrow.” 

“Probably because you won’t make it to the gym tomorrow.”  

“That’s not the point.” 

--

You didn’t always love the atmosphere around the fight. You used to hate the screaming, the overpriced beer, the rednecks. It used to make you wary, going with Terry. People knew him. It's not secret that he's gay. He used to catch more shit for it before he bulked up and started fighting. Even after he had, the slurs hadn’t stopped. It used to raise your hackles—but Terry’s got more of a handle on how he approaches those incidents, and he’s made a lot of friends that frequent the ring, both as spectators, and in the Middleweight division.

You wouldn’t say that you like going to fights now, but you don’t find it as daunting as you used to. Now, the atmosphere is exciting—it zips through you like lightning; it makes your fingers tingle, and your heart pound. 

“Here,” Terry calls out, pressing a beer into your hand. 

“I told you I’ve got work tomorrow!” 

“I got two for myself, you’re just holding that one for me.” 

“Bullshit,” You laugh, looking up at the ring as the bell sounds. 

By the time the first two fights are down, you know you should leave. It’s late, and it’s only going to get later—you’ve had three beers, and Terry’s coming back with another one. 

“Terry, I really shouldn’t—”

“Ben’s coming down the hall,” He half-yells into your ear, and you have to stop yourself from muttering, ‘Fucking finally,’ when it bubbles up in you. You push it down with a gulp of beer, glancing back and trying to catch sight of the Millers. You see Benny’s chestnut hair; Will’s bright head bobs into view just moments later. You and Terry begin to cheer almost on instinct as they come more fully into view—as Benny heads into the ring, and Will rounds the corner. Will looks around, and his eyes catch on you and Terry. He raises his hand to give Terry a pat on the shoulder, and meets your eyes dead-on. 

It’s a half-second, that’s all, but it seems to last for far longer. If anyone asked you what happened in that half-second, you’d tell them that you nodded to him—you know that for sure, because he nods, too. You’re not sure if it’s the beer, or the crackling of the air around you, but your skin feels hot. You don’t even know if you’re smiling. But Will’s gaze holds on yours for a long time, even as he walks on. When he finally looks away, you can feel your heart thudding in the vicinity of your throat. 

Terry leans over, his shoulder nudging yours as he speaks into your ear:

“Distracted much?” 

“...What?” You manage, tipping your head back toward him as you watch Benny climb into the ring.

“Uh-huh.” 

When you glance up at Terry, you find him grinning smugly, and you reach out, shoving his shoulder as you grumble, “Shut up.” As the bell sounds, you yell out, “Let’s go!” and vaguely register Will’s yell of, “It’s time to work!” 

--

Ben is a hunter in the ring.

You can’t help but compare the way he fights with the way Terry fights. Terry prefers to hold back, to let his opponent dance around and tire themselves out. Terry is a slow-burn; Benny is a wildfire. Will is as much wind to guide his brother as he throws gasoline on Benny’s flame, honing his path and stoking his focus on the rare occasions that Benny takes a hard hit or seems to flounder. 

You plan to only stay for a couple of rounds, but before you know it, you’re cheering Benny as his opponent is knocked down, and stays down. The ref takes hold of Benny’s wrist, holding it up as he proclaims him the winner, and you and Terry crow with excitement. As the crowd begins to flow—as Benny is led out to be checked over by the ring doctor—you turn to Terry, ready to insist again that you have to leave. But you feel a hand land on your shoulder, and turn your head to see Will leaning in. He gets close between you and Terry, and asks over the hum of the crowd, “What are you guys doing now?” 

--

You should be more concerned about the fact that tomorrow morning (well, later this morning) is going to be absolute hell for you. You should be concerned about the fact that when you get home, whenever you get home, you’re probably going to need to have a couple of pieces of toast and a few glasses of water. Your head is buzzing with the beers you had at the fight, and now with the two that you’ve had at the bar. But the zipwire-tense feeling that had ripped through you is ebbing as you watch Benny return from the bar with a massive basket of fries and a fresh round of beers.

Oh, man. You’re really gonna regret this tomorrow. 

You push the thought away as you reach out, taking up a precariously full beer and leaning back in your seat. 

“Surprised you’ve got such a sedate after party,” Terry comments as he takes one of the beers. 

“Fewer glove bunnies than I expected,” You add, eyes sliding to Will’s, where he sits across from you. He appears to bite back a smile, eyes dipping to the table. Benny’s eyes dart between the two of you, brow furrowing, and you give a small, reassuring shake of your head. 

“I have a question,” Benny declares, leaning against the table. 

“Has it got anything to do with that swelling cheek?” Terry asks, waving a finger toward Benny’s face. 

“No,” Benny huffs, “I know how all about that. How’d you two meet?” He asks. You glance at Terry, arching a brow as he turns to you with a grin. 

“School,” Is your short answer. 

“I moved in around, like…Fifth grade-ish?” Terry’s brow furrows. 

“It wasn’t fifth-grade-ish, it was fifth grade,” You correct. 

“I wasn’t the most social kid, and that caught me a lot of shit. I got picked on, and this one,” Terry pushes his shoulder against yours, and you sway with it, bobbing back and forth, “Taught me how to keep from getting my ass kicked on the way home.” 

“Seriously?” Ben asks. You shrug a little. 

“It started with short-cuts to get him home, but when other kids caught on, things got a bit more…Physical.” 

“Did you already know how to fight?” Will asks. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I knew how to swing a fist, I didn’t really know how to fight. We both learned to, though, because we…Had to.”

“She’s been stuck with me ever since,” Terry sighs dramatically. You roll your eyes, turning a fond smile up at him. 

“He’s like my taller, irritating younger brother,” You add.

“I know all about that,” Will pipes up, and you can’t help but turn a laugh at him. 

“So what about you two, how did you two meet?” You tease, waving your finger between them. 

“Oh, man,” Ben mutters. 

“Well I came home one day and my mom said, ‘We have a surprise for you’,” Will says, “And then six months later, this dick shows up.” 

“And he’s been stuck with me ever since,” Ben smiles, glancing at Will. You reach out, plucking up a couple of the fries and dipping them in ketchup. 

“Did you guys get along growing up?” 

“We don’t even get along now,” Ben teases. Will chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Not always. We butt heads as kids, and we do sometimes now, but…We get our shit done.” 

“He’s a hardass,” Ben cuts in.

“And he’s a dumbass.”

You grin. “So you complement each other is what I’m hearing.” 

--  

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” 

You’re taking a long pull from your water bottle, fighting the dryness in your throat when you hear Will. 

“What can I say,” You manage as you lower it. “I only just recovered from going out with y’all the other night.” 

Will chuckles, leaning against the pillar beside you as you wipe down your treadmill. 

“Didn’t mean to tire you out.” 

“I’m out of practice. Terry hasn’t had a fight in a couple of months, so I don’t stay up that late anymore.” 

“No?”

“Nope. I’m in bed at 9:30 and I like it.” 

You take up your water bottle, and the two of you start drifting away from the treadmills.

“Why hasn’t Terry been in the ring?” Will plies. 

“His rotator cuff’s kinda fucked up. He’s been taking it easy—Well. As easy as he's willing to take it. He has a check-in with his doctor in a couple of weeks.” 

“That must be driving him nuts.” 

“Oh, he’s losing it. He’s trying to go to as many fights as he can, though.”

“I’ve seen him at a few lately—Besides, Benny’s, you know. I was wondering why you didn’t go with him.” 

You stop at the door to the women’s locker room and turn around to face him. 

“Bed. 9:30,” You reiterate.

“Well I know that now.” Will tucks his hands into his pockets, smiling. “I wanted to ask: Do you think you could see it in yourself to duck your bedtime again?” 

“Depends on what for.” 

“There’s a fight down in Fernsworth this weekend. There’s a new kid on the bill, he’s apparently pretty vicious.” 

“Oh yeah? When this weekend?” 

“Friday.” 

You consider, lips pursing, and Will chuckles at your expression.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Terry’s got work that night.” 

“So’s Ben.” 

Your gut swoops in surprise, a brow lifting and falling quickly, but Will’s face remains as calm as ever.

“So?” Will presses. If you were reading into it, you’d think he was batting his pretty eyelashes. Before you can overthink it, you hold your hand out and order: “Phone.”

Will rifles into his pocket and pulls it out, passing it over. You add yourself as a contact, your heart thudding in your chest, ears going hot as you double-check that it’s right. You pass it back to Will, meeting his eyes again. “You can send me all the details.”

“Don’t feel like talking to me anymore?”

“I have to go to work, Miller,” You laugh, taking a couple of steps back. “Text me—And keep an eye out for those glove bunnies.” 

“Always.” 

You get one last look at Will, at his sweet, amused smile, and you turn, heading in to take a shower (and maybe to silently scream into your hands, a little). 

--  

You don’t dress up, and you do not tell Terry where you’re going, or with whom. It’s been bad enough that he clocked your swell of interest when you’d gone out with all of them, and worse still that he’s encouraged it. You’d been pressing your hands down onto the tops of his shoes, ensuring that his feet stayed flat as he worked on his core.

“At least—fuck him,” Terry had insisted as he’d come up from reps of crunches. “Do you—have any idea—what’d I’d do tuh—Phew—Have those pretty—blue eyes pointed at me—like that?” 

You’d raised your brow, casting a wary eye about to ensure that neither of the Miller brothers were anywhere nearby before you’d insisted, “Nothing is going to happen between me and Will.” 

“Why—the hell—not?” Terry gasped, finishing out his reps. He groaned, sweeping his hand across his sweating brow before planting both hands on the mat behind himself. “He’s leaps and bounds better than the other assholes you used to fuck with.” 

Like it or not, you knew Terry was right.

For your rough and real first impression, Will is actually kinda sweet. You still don’t know him all that well, and maybe tonight could change that. But you insist to yourself that you’re not going out to flirt with Will, you’re going to see this new fighter (Charlie “Shredder” Klein: 5’9, 194 pounds, rookie, southpaw) and gather some info for when, inevitably, Terry winds up fighting the guy. You dress…Comfortably, in one of your nicer pairs of jeans and one of your favorite tops. You feel cute, and you feel cute for you. If Will thinks that you’re cute in the outfit, well…That’s just a bonus. 

You don’t think he would tell you, though. Will Miller seems like the type to keep his cards close to his chest. 

The ride down to the venue is filled with polite small talk. The feeling in the cab of his truck is almost like the same nervous air of a first date. Your stomach is twisting like a nest of garter snakes; your skin is hot with nerves; you rub your sweaty palms nervously against your jeans. The two of you stick close together at the fight—though you don't exactly have an alternative; the venue is packed. Now and again, if you get nudged too roughly by someone else, or pushed one way or another, Will cuts a sharp, warning look at them over your head at the perpetrator. The third or so time it happens, you reach out, resting a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about them,” You say into his ear, cutting over the noise, “The fight’s in the ring, not with these dickheads.” 

Will’s lips twitch with a smile as he leans in to speak into your ear in turn. He says, “It’ll be here if they’re not careful,” But you almost don’t catch it. You’re too focused on everything else—on the press of his warm and firm body against your side; on the way his hand rests on your lower back; on the whisper of his beard against your cheek; on the brush of his lips and breath against the shell of your ear, and the way his voice seems to drown out the clamor of the spectators around you. It makes your heart tick up in your chest, a shiver tripping down your spine and stopping right where his hand sits. 

When your mind catches up with what he’s said, you laugh, nudging his hip with yours.

“Eyes on the prize, Miller,” You urge.

“They are,” He answers without missing a beat. It makes your stomach flip, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You finally force yourself to, and to clap as the announcer brings in the first contender, looking around to try and catch a glimpse of them—and not to overthink the way that Will’s hand is still resting on your back. 

--  

“Weak spots?” Will asks. You consider for a moment, running your finger along the side of your beer bottle. The buzz from the fight is wearing off, and the bar that you've gone to is far more quiet compared to the venue.

“He doesn’t go in…With a plan,” You say after a moment.

“His coach was calling plays.”

“Yeah, but Klein wasn’t listening. I mean when you tell Ben to back the fuck off or get away from the ropes, he backs the fuck off or gets away from the ropes, because in that moment, you see things in a way that he doesn’t. He trusts you to steer him. Klein’s coach can yell whatever he wants, but it’s not heard. Klein’s in the fight, he’s on the inside, he thinks he knows best, and that…That got him fucked up tonight. Might not always get him fucked up, but today’s outcome, you know. Not so much.” 

“Strong indictment.” 

“You asked me what I thought.”

“And I got it. I appreciate that.” 

You raise your brows at Will’s calm, honest expression.

“What about you?” You ask, nodding to him, “What do you think his weak spots are?” 

“He’s a brawler, not a fighter. He likes to go in for little…squirrely swiping matches. He wants excitement, not wins.” 

You shake your head at the assessment. “That just spells trouble for our boys.” 

“Less trouble if we go in with a plan.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The two of you lightly clink your beers together, sharing a smile before you take sips.

“I’m surprised you came tonight,” Will admits as he sets his bottle down. 

“Really?"

“Little bit.” 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t exactly have the nicest start.” 

“No, we didn’t, but…I don’t know, I thought we were on a more level field now.”

“I think we are.”

The two of you watch one another for a long moment, considering, and before you can say anything, Will adds: “I’m glad you came with me.” 

“Yeah? Didn’t wanna brave the hillbilly circus alone?” 

“I have before and it’s never fun.” 

“It wasn’t so bad tonight.” 

“I had good company.”

You smile a little bit, eyes sweeping Will’s face as flattery wells in your stomach.

“...You knew Terry had work tonight, didn’t you,” You accuse softly. Will shrugs a shoulder, raising his bottle to his lips again. You can’t help your flattered smile, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on him.

“Ben might’ve mentioned it,” Will finally concedes. 

“Interesting.” 

“Is it?”

“I think so.” 

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“I'm still sitting here, aren’t I?” 

Will’s smile widens, and your stomach flutters. “You could’ve just asked me out,” You add in a mutter.

“Well, now I know that for next time.” 

Next time. Your face goes hot; the beer in your stomach feels like it’s bubbling. 

“Yes you do,” You agree, nodding a little.

“When I do,” Will adds, leaning against the table, sending another burst through your chest at his use of ‘when’ where you'd expected 'if', “You alright with it being this sort of thing?”

“What, a fight and a beer? Hell yeah—Long as it’s before 9:30.” 

Will laughs, tugging his sleeve back and glancing at his watch. 

“You have any idea what time it is?” 

“No, and I do not wanna know.” 

-- 

You fold your across your chest, eyeing Terry’s form as he pounds the punching bag in front of himself. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask as he leans away from the bag, swiping at the sweat dripping down his face. 

“‘Bout what?” He asks a little blandly between pants. 

“The fight.” 

“You asking me because I got a fight, or does it have to do with who I’m going up against?” 

You purse your lips, eyes sweeping the gym for any sign of either of the Miller brothers. Finding neither, you answer, “Both?” 

Terry chuckles, turning back to the bag.

“I’m not gonna go easy on Benny just ‘cause he’s a friend, and he ain’t gonna take it easy on me, either—”

“I know—”

“I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen—”

“I know! I know, oh my god, I get it.” 

“I’m just sayin’,” Terry mutters, punching viciously at the bag again.

“I’d be a bad coach not to ask, you know half of the fight’s in your head. And speaking of bad coach,” You add, “You found anyone else yet?” 

Terry casts you an irritated look out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you really talkin’ about this right now?”

“...Okay, letting it go,” You sigh before tacking on, “And you’re holding your breath again.” 

“I was about to say the same thing,” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Will just a few steps away. You smile almost involuntarily. You haven’t seen Will since your not-quite date, but you’ve thought about him and texted with him plenty.

“Shouldn’t you be mindin’ your own fighter, Miller?” Terry asks, straightening up and raising his hands to stop the swinging bag.

“Don’t worry, McLowery. The second he needs minding, I’ll be on it.” Will takes a few steps back from you both, shooting you a wink before he turns away. Your stomach twists, and you carefully smooth your smile away before turning to face Terry again. 

“Alright, c’mon,” You wave him toward the bag again, “Let’s go, we got half an hour and then we gotta get going. I can’t be late for work again.” 

-- 

It’s odd, finding yourself on the opposite side of the ring as Will. As nervous as you are—for the way your body feels like it’s buzzing, a tingle in your fingertips—you know that the boys’ll take this seriously. It was going to happen sooner or later; you just didn’t think it would be so soon. You hope that they come out of the ring with their friendships (and their bones) intact.

You shift from foot to foot, drawing a shaky breath in through your nose as Ben and Terry begin to circle up. Your eye catches on Will’s for just a moment. You trade nods, then turn your eyes back to your respective fighters. It’s a heady moment. The room seems to quiet around you for a moment as Ben and Terry approach one another, each with one fist out and one by their cheeks. You hardly blink as they get closer and closer—

--

“I almost had you.” 

It’s a gravely mutter, the first thing that Terry’s said since leaving the ring. He’s got a fat lip, and his right cheek is going to make it look like he’s part chipmunk in the morning. It’s a moment before Ben offers a grumbled, “...Almost.” Then, “Didn’t, though.” 

Terry takes a swipe at his head. Ben ducks it, raising his arm to push at Terry’s shoulder. You shake your head, leaning against the bar and watching them teasingly grapple. 

“You think they’d be too tired to do that by now,” You comment, shaking your head. 

“Adrenaline’s probably still pushin’ em. They’ll crash later.” 

The both of you are speaking a little more softly than usual; you had yelled your heads off at the match, and you're not sure about Will, but your throat feels so fricking raw. You nod, smile widening as the guys scrap a little more. 

“Hey—Alright, alright,” You finally raise your voice as they knock back into a stool. “If your sorry asses get us thrown out, you're paying.” 

“Drinks are on me, anyway,” Benny turns to give you a grin, teeth bright beneath the shiner developing on his right eye. Still, it’s a relief to see the boys settle. You shift on your stool and lean back against the bar, twisting your seat back and forth. 

“How are you feelin’?” 

You glance over at Will, brow furrowing in confusion at the question. 

“I didn’t just go five rounds with those numbskulls,” You point out, nodding toward them. 

“I know. You seemed…Tense.” 

“I was worried about ‘em.” 

“Terry?” 

“Both of them.” 

Will nods, eyes sweeping across your face before he glances around to the guys. 

“They’re doing alright.” 

“I know. I’m—I’m calming down, I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. “So many of Terry’s other friends in the ring are in different divisions. This is the first friend he’s, like, fought-fought.” 

“He did alright.” 

“No, I know. Nothing too broken. And Ben’s fine, too, so. Like I said,” You raise your hands in a slight pushing motion. “Calming down.” 

Will smiles, taking a step closer and sliding his arm around your middle, bracketing you against the bar. Your stomach flips at the closeness, at the weight and warmth of his arm. 

“Glad to hear it.” 

“You’ve just been completely chill the whole time?” 

Will shrugs. “I trusted the guys to handle it. They handled it.” 

“Alright…Knowitall,” You mutter. You smile as Will takes a step closer. He seems to glance toward the guys again before he lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Your stomach bursts with butterflies, and you gently lower your head, resting it against his. You turn your head as you hear the bartender’s, “Here you go,” behind you. The two of you straighten up, turning to the bar fully and reaching for your beers. 

“So,” Will clears his throat, “You busy this Friday?” 

You smile, trailing your finger along the side of your glass. 

“Is there another southpaw you wanna get a look at?” 

“Nope, just dinner. I thought maybe I could cook at your place—that way I won’t interfere with your bedtime.” 

You can’t help your grin, or the slight tip of your head as he crowds close again.

“That is so considerate of you, Miller.” 

“I do what I can.” 

-- 

You try to chip in for the groceries, but Will won’t hear of it. He won’t even tell you what he’s making. 

“You know that I can probably mentally tally up whatever it is you bring and, like, Venmo you that amount, right?” You ask. It’s a little huffed as it leaves you, your gaze and focus on the swinging punching bag in front of you. When Will doesn’t answer, you glance over, and do a double take at the sight of him.

He’s watching you with a warm, sweet look, his hands tucked in his pocket as he slouches against the wall beside you. You raise your hands to steady the bag and keep it from swinging and hitting you in the face, stomach fluttering at the way this man is looking at you—like you’re dolled up and wearing a goddamn ballgown, and not sweating in the middle of a gym. 

“Besides, what if I have an allergy or something?” You add. 

“I’ve already run the ingredients by someone.” 

You frown. “Who?” 

Will doesn’t answer, just shrugs and holds his gaze steadily on yours. You narrow your eyes slightly, turning to look around the gym. Terry’s not too far off—and he’s pointedly keeping his focus on anything but you. 

“...Terrence,” You call out. 

“Busy!” He yells back, plucking his water bottle and phone and hurrying to another machine. You roll your eyes, turning back to Will with a mutter of, “Spy.” 

His smile widens.

“I can be there by six, that alright?” He asks, pushes off of the wall. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“If I see any kind of calculator when I’m cooking…”

“Oh, you won’t. I’m like a phone ninja.” 

Will chuckles, leaning in and murmuring, “See you tonight.” 

The closeness of his murmur and his breath brushing against your sweat-slicked skin sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. 

-- 

Your plan to stealthily tally everything up disappears as Will unpacks the groceries. You blink, stunned, before you pick up a jar of sauce, turning it around in your hands. 

“Are you fricking kidding me?” 

Will doesn’t answer. He just backs off, an amused smile on his lips and his hand on his hip as you reach into the grocery bag and rifle through it before reeling back, screeching, “You took off all of the labels?!” 

“You thought I was just gonna let you look through everything and tally up how much this cost me?” He turns and reaches into the bag again, continuing to unpack. “Amateur hour.” 

You bite your lip, watching in silence for a few moments as you think. What sort of 3-D dating chess is this man playing? 

“You are…Frighteningly tactful, Miller.” 

His smile widens, and he seems to duck his head to unearth something from the bulging grocery bag, but you can see the creeping flush of flattering rising up in his cheeks. 

“I can still guestimate, you know,” You warn. 

He stops then, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Would you just let me do something nice for you?” His brows raise, his lips on the edge of pursing in disappointment. You’re stunned into silence as he adds, “Nothing has to be owed. I just…I just wanna make you dinner.” 

You pause before you nod a little. Will’s brows raise further, and you nod again, watching as he turns back toward the bag. You hesitate before nervously sidling up beside him, pressing yourself against his side and eyeing his steady hands. 

“Can I at least help?” You ask. Glancing at him, you find Will’s annoyance smoothed away, replaced with a somewhat serene consideration. He nods, concedes: “A little.” 

--  

Will designates you two things to chop (red and green peppers), and one thing to stir (vegetable stir fry). He keeps his back to you as he adds seasonings to your chicken (“It’s a secret recipe,” He insists before he shoos you away from the counter. All you get a glimpse of is the garlic salt).

You don’t know exactly what he puts on it, but when you take your first bite, it’s perfectly moist, and damn delicious. You don’t even bother to hide your groan, or the way you close your eyes to just savor—and try to work out one or two of the spices. You get hits of chili. Chili and…Cumin? Little pops of cumin—

“I’m not telling you,” Will’s mirthful warning floats across the table to you. Your smile widens, shaking your head and opening your eyes. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Miller.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is this your secret recipe?” 

“My mom’s.” 

“Did she make it a lot growing up?"

“In the summer, mostly, for barbecues and stuff.” 

“Tastes pretty good from the oven.” 

He grunts, nodding. “Better on the grill,” He admits, “With a little char on it.” 

“Mm, noted. Are you and your mom close?” 

Will quirks a brow as he reaches for his drink, and you realize that you’ve been bombarding him with questions. Before you can apologize, he offers: 

“Pretty close. I try to see her at least once a week. It used to be more, but she said I was smothering her.” 

You smile, chuckling. 

“That’s kinda precious.” 

Will shrugs a touch, pushing his veggies around his plate. 

“My dad passed a couple’a years ago and I think coming around as much as I used to might’ve helped, but mom’s got her own life, you know. She’s got a book club…She’s apparently a bingo assassin.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Some people think she’s cheating.” 

“...Is she?” You tease. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her. What  she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in sneakiness.” 

“Is that where you and Ben get it?” 

He chuckles, ducking his head and poking at the food on his plate. 

“Some of it, maybe.” 

“And the rest?” 

“Training.” 

“Do you think Ben would agree?"

“Do you always ask this many questions?” 

You lean back, poking at your food in turn and fighting the embarrassed churning in your stomach. 

“Not always,” You mumble. You hear Will huff a soft laugh, and smile as he reaches across the table to take hold of your hand.

"I don't mind," He insists, thumb sweeping along the side of your hand. "Long as I get to ask a few, too."

--

"This was nice," You offer, almost woefully trailing Will to the front door. You've wanted to make a move since he put you to work in your kitchen—you've been thinking about it as the two of you were at your sink, doing the dishes; since you were sitting on your couch, talking about work, and the gym, and who Ben and Terry are facing next. You've been so close so consistently—arm to arm, hip to hip, knee to knee. The tiny touches have made you crave more, and Will's sweet smiles have made you do whatever you can think of to seek them out.

When he'd told you that he ought to get going, that he was meeting Ben in the gym at five the next morning, you were pretty sure that he was telling the truth—but you were already mourning the loss of the moment, and his warmth in your apartment.

"It was...Once you stopped pestering me about paying," He teases as he pulled on his jacket. You rolled your eyes.

"Well, how about I bring a bunch of labeless groceries over to your place, make you dinner, and see how you like it."

"I think I'd like it a lot," He insists, straightening his collar. "How's next week?"

And it's so swift and so smooth that you're certain you look more than a little gobsmacked. But you nod.

"Yeah. I can do next week."

"Friday?"

"Sure."

"Okay." He opens your door. "It's a date."

Just like that—so easy and open, and such a far cry to the first time he spoke to you at the gym.

"Good," You agree, leaning against the wall by your front door. "Let me know when you get home."

"I will." He leans in, and your breath catches in your throat as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You bite your lip at the gentle prickle of his beard against your skin, eyelids fluttering as Will stays close. He raises his hand, gently sweeping his thumb against your lower lip and tugging it from your teeth.

"Don't do that," He shakes his head. "Don't bite your lip."

"Why?" You mumble, leaning into the flirty urge that's rising in you. "There someone else that's supposed to do it for me?"

Will breathes out a groan, resting his temple gently against yours.

"I'm trying to be good," He warns. You sweep your tongue across your lower lip, letting the tip graze his thumb, and grinning as he swallows thickly.

"This feels good to me." You reach up, cupping his cheek.

"You realize if we do this, you'll be up past 9:30?"

"I'm willing to risk it."

You think for a moment that he'll draw away, that he'll call it—

Your stomach drops as he pulls away and you hear the door shut, but grin as he crowds up against you, lips pressing warmly to yours. You sigh, looping your arm around your shoulders and keeping you close. His hands slide over your hips, drawing you into his chest. You slide your hand up, gently teasing your nails against the nape of his neck.

"Remind me to apologize to Ben the next time I see him," You mumble.

"Why's that?"

"You're going to be very late tomorrow morning."

tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[shockercoco]

An Honorary Member

Benny Cross x reader

Warnings - fluff, unwanted advances (like one), some swear words

Word count - 2768

a/n -  request: "please please PLEASE do something ANYTHING for benny cross x reader but reader is a sweetheart and is kinda just a goody two shoes..." read the rest of the request here. It's funny how many of your guys wanted this, and of course I had to deliver. I really enjoyed writing this and hopefully this meets your expectations. enjoy :)

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m coming?” you ask Kathy as she finds a spot on the crowded grass to park.

You look down at your baby pink top, jeans, and white shoes, beginning to second guess your outfit choice. Despite your outfit being basic, you still felt odd amongst all the leather and dark colors. Even Kathy wasn’t wearing anything bright.

“Of course it is. These people don’t care,” Kathy tells as she puts the car in park. “Plus, if it was a problem, Benny wouldn’t have asked you to come.”

Benny loved your outfits. He thought it made you stand out next to him, and he loved that.

“You and I both know he would’ve still invited me if it even if it was a problem,” you point out, causing her to laugh in response.

“Besides you haven’t been around the girls in a while and they're looking forward to seeing you again,” Kathy says.

All the commotion outside could still be heard loud and clear even through the closed windows. You knew about the people Kathy and Benny hung out with and their well known reputation – she was technically the one who introduced you to Benny.

It also wasn’t uncommon for you to see members of the club riding through the streets whenever you were out in public running errands, but you’ve never actually met them. Dating Benny and being friends with some of the guys’ girlfriends was the closest you have gotten to this world. Benny thought it was finally time you meet the club and he thought this outing was the perfect opportunity.

Kathy could see the look of uncertainty on your face as you looked down. “You look fine, don’t worry about it too much. These guys practically wear the same thing all the time, so who are they to judge? Now get the hell out of my car.”

Making sure to grab your homemade cookies from the backseat, you both start heading towards the group. It was your idea to bring the cookies, thinking that it would make it easier for the guys to like you if you brought something to offer. You kind of went overboard and made way too many, though.

As the two of you walk to the table where the girls are, you spot Benny at another table having a smoke and talking to some of the other members.

“You actually came,” one of the girls, whose name you unfortunately forgot, smiled. She jumps up to give you a hug, before taking the cookie-filled container out of your hands, “And you brought goodies.” 

“You would go straight for the food,” Kathy jokes as the girl sits down, allowing others to reach their hand into the container.

The girl shrugs. “Her cookies are the best.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you,” Gail, whose name you do remember, tells you. You go to sit down next to her, while Kathy sits across from you. “You should come riding with us one time.”

“You ride?” you ask her, your eyebrows raised.

“Well, no not me, but my boyfriend does,” Gail says.

You turn your head as she nods in what you're assuming is her boyfriend’s general direction, but all you notice is Benny walking towards the table.

Benny had noticed your arrival, but Johnny kept running his mouth and he couldn’t find the right time to get away. He eventually just decided to get up and leave because there was no telling if the conversation would ever end, and as of now you were more important to him.

When Benny had first met you it was outside of a bar that basically belonged to the Vandals. You were only there to drop off some money for Kathy for whatever reason because she couldn’t seem to get away.

You were hesitant at first because one: it was the middle of the night, and two: you would be going to a place where all the bikeriders hung out. A bar and a bunch of crazy men didn’t seem like the best combination and you didn’t even understand why Kathy would always go to such a place, but nevertheless she was your best friend, so you felt obligated to go.

You had barely entered the bar when Kathy had come running up to you and thanking you. You were about to tell her it was no problem – even though it most definitely was – but you got distracted by this man coming up behind her.

The tattoos and the unlit cigarette hanging from his lips should’ve been a turn off for you, but you couldn’t help but feel attracted to him. The hair, the way he walked, and the look in his eye just screamed confidence, and you found yourself not being able to look away from him. He gave you a smirk when his eyes found yours, and you immediately looked away as you felt embarrassment flow through your body. 

Yeah, you definitely had to leave.

“Did you want to stay for a drink?” Kathy asked you, breaking you from your thoughts.

“What? Oh, no I should get going. It’s late an–”

“Who’s this?” the man asks Kathy as he approaches the two of you, interrupting your sentence. He removes the cigarette from his mouth and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“This is my best friend,” Kathy looks up at him, “and she’s off limits.”

The guy laughs at her statement. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asks her, but he’s looking at you. 

Kathy sighs as she rolls her eyes. “This is Benny,” she tells you before looking back at him, “but it doesn’t really matter because you’re leaving, aren’t you Benny.”

Well if Kathy doesn’t seem to like him, then neither should you. Right?

“Loosen up, Kathy.”

Kathy’s about to say something else, but someone calls her name. She looks behind her before looking back at you Benny. She hesitates for a second before sending Benny a glare and walking away.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be out by yourself?” Benny asks, looking down at you and giving you this look. A look that gives you butterflies and makes you want to smile, but you resist. His gaze is intense.

“Yes, which is why I’m going home,” you tell him.

“Do you need a ride, I’m on my way out,” he raises an eyebrow. 

“No thanks, I drove here,” you answer.

“Hmm. Well I guess I’ll see you around then,” he smiles. He’s not asking, but telling you.

“I guess so,” you say. 

You don’t know if you’re waiting for him to leave or if he’s waiting on you to make a move first, but you both just stand there for a moment. You don’t know if it’s an awkward or comfortable silence between the two of you, but you can’t handle his eyes on you anymore.

Benny watches you give him a small smile before turning around and exiting the bar. He smiles to himself as he follows you out the door, taking his cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. He watches as you get into the car you parked on the side of the street and drive off, still looking down the street, even when you’re no longer in eyesight.

You were different from him, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or bad thing, but he had to find out. You seemed so gentle and shy, unlike all the other girls that hang around at the bar. Benny felt drawn to you, even though the two of you had only talked for a couple of minutes. The fact that Kathy didn’t want him around  you only egged him on more.

He had to have you.

As you’re having a cup of coffee the next morning, you decide to look out one of your living room windows – something you always do. This time when you move the curtain aside, you almost drop the cup in your hand when you see Benny across the street. He’s leaning against his bike having a cigarette, and you’re wondering how the hell he found you.

And how long has he been out there?

You set your cup down on your living room table before opening the front door. Benny notices the door open and just smirks when he sees you walking down your front steps. He gets up from his position on the bike and walks towards you, flicking his cigarette on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him once you reach the bottom of your steps, and Benny is standing on the sidewalk. You wrap your sweater tighter around your body as the morning breeze blows past you.

You give him a once-over now that he’s standing in front of you and man does he look good. Why does he look so good? 

“Kathy gave me your address,” he tells you casually.

Your eyes nearly pop out of their head because that is so unlike her. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he nods with amusement, “but don’t be mad at her, I kind of forced it out of her.”

“And you’re here because…?”

“Because I wanted to see you again. I’ve been thinking about you all night,” he tells you. Your heart drops and have to keep your jaw from hanging open because there’s no way.

You wait a second before asking, “How many girls have you said that too?” 

“One,” he smiles at you as he slowly walks towards you. “You.”

That was five weeks ago. You shouldn’t have fallen for that cheesy line, but you did, which is how you now find yourself at this picnic.

“Glad my girl came,” he whispers in your ear as he takes a seat next to you. He smirks as he notices goosebumps popping up along your arm.

“You two make me sick,” Kathy says, but there’s no animosity in her voice. She can’t help but smile as she looks between you and Benny because she’s never seen him like this. Before you, she’s never seen him so…in love. It’s obvious that you have him wrapped around your finger.

Some of the other girls around the table have smiles across their faces too as they witness the interaction too because they can also see the difference in Benny.

“Come on, I want you to meet some of the guys,” he tells you and you nod. He grabs your hand in his as he walks you towards the group of guys he had been talking to when you arrived, feeling kind of nervous as you see all of their eyes on you.

As you approach, one of the older men looks down at your hand connected with his and a grin slowly grows on his lips. He’s sitting at the table while the rest of them either stand around it, or sit on the table top.

“So this is your girl huh, the one you’ve been hiding from us?” the same guy asks.

Benny rolls his eyes. “This is Johnny, he’s in charge of the club.”

“Damn right I am, but that’s not important. It’s nice to finally meet you, sweetheart,” Johnny says as he leans forward and holds his hand out for you to shake. You give him a small smile as you accept his hand.

“We’re here too,” another guy says.

“That’s Cockroach,” Johnny tells you before introducing the rest of them, and pointing out some of the others that are walking around. “And this is Danny, he’s not like everyone else. He’s writing some kind of story or somethin’.”

You turn around to see a guy with a camera hanging around his neck approaching the group, a half eaten cookie in his hand. “Someone made cookies, you guys gotta try them.”

“And you didn’t bring us any? Not cool man,” Cal says.

“Didn’t you make those?” Benny looks down at you, nodding his head towards Danny’s hand.

“Um, yeah.”

“You bake?” Cockroach asks, and you nod.

“Well hand them over so we can try it before they’re all gone,” Johnny says, and you give him a nod before heading back towards the table where the cookies are.

As you’re walking, some drunk guy stumbles his way in front of you, almost bumping into you. Thinking nothing of it since a lot of the men around are wasted, you ignore him and try to go around him. The man doesn’t let you move far though as he grabs your arm and gives you a sly smile. Your face contorts in disgust and you try to jerk your arm away, but his grip is too tight.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, little lady. What’s your name?” he slurs, the smell of alcohol filling your nostrils.

“None of your business,” you tell him. You try to pull your arm away again, but the man’s grip only gets tighter. Your heartbeat picks up as you begin to panic, but there’s too many people around so nothing can happen. Right?

“I like your shirt,” he gives the bottom of your shirt a little tug.

“Stop,” you smack his hand away.

“Come on, don’t be like that, gorgeous. I’m just trying to be nice, the least you could do is tell me your name,” the man steps closer, getting into your face.

“Let me go,” you say sternly, once again trying to move.

“I think you need to be taught some manners,” the man glares at you.

From behind you, Benny sees the altercation going down and begins to come to your aid, but you do something that makes him stop in his tracks.

You smack the man hard, making his head turn to the side. His hand immediately lets go of you to reach up and touch his cheek, the handprint already starting to show.

A few people around who witnessed the scene gasp and laugh. A few whistles and hollers join in.

“You bitch,” he says, his nostrils flaring.

“I guess we both need to be taught some manners,” you spit, no longer feeling shy since there are too many eyes on him.

Apparently, the man notices the stares too because he backs off, but not without giving you one last look.

“Well damn,” Cockroach says amongst the group.

“Got yourself a good one, Benny,” Johnny chuckles, his head falling back. That makes Benny’s heart swell with pride.

“Remind me not to piss her off,” Cal says, his eyes wide.

Kathy comes up to check on you, but you tell her you’re okay. When you come back to the group with the container in your hand, everyone’s looking at you with grins covering their face. Benny shoots you a wink, making your face heat up.

“These aren’t bad at all, you gotta bring these to all the meetings,” Johnny says after taking a bite of his cookie, the guys nodding in agreement.

Now, you don’t know what you were thinking, but the idea of attending meetings hadn’t crossed your mind at all.

You should’ve known because a couple of days later when the club meets at the bar again, you’re right there with them, a few containers of baked goods in your hand. The men don’t waste their time rushing towards you when you first step foot in the bar, making Benny shove his way through the crowd to make sure you don’t get crushed. Surprisingly, though, you don’t mind at all.

“You better wait your turn,” one guy tells another who’s trying to cut in front of him.

“Fuck off,” the man answers and shoves the guy aside.

Benny grabs them both by the neck of their jackets and pulls them back.

“Gentlemen, please, let’s not act like animals,” Johnny calls out.

Word gets out about how good your baking is – and your altercation with that drunk man – causing the bikers to have respect for you. Whenever you need something and Benny’s not around, there’s always someone that volunteers.

If you need a ride to work because your car broke down and Benny’s not able to pick you up, Johnny’s waiting right outside your door. If for some reason, someone dares to shoot their shot at you, it doesn’t take long for the person to get thrown out of the bar. And when you get cold, several of the bikers offer their jackets to you, only for Benny to quickly throw his jacket over your shoulders.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[papakhan]

I'll make my own post actually. I think it's an under appreciated detail and piece of characterisation how the courier is buried not only fully clothed but also carrying stimpaks, caps, and their weapon of choice (and we know its THEIR weapon because the game gives you whatever type of weapon you scored highest in with skills). And sure its just a game mechanic thing but they could have just as easily had Doc Mitchell say "here's some stuff of mine to help you out" but he explicitly says "here, this is all you had on you". Also I need you guys to ignore the DLC dumping all that shit on you at the start of the game okay forget about it. I know it's funny but it's not what I'm talking about

It's interesting no matter who you pin this behavior on. If it was Benny preventing the Khans from robbing the courier as they would any raider victim, then that's just another layer of him thinking he's being respectful about the ordeal. Or at the very least enjoys having power over the Khans and ordering them around.

However my headcanon is that it was the Khans who buried the courier in this way. And I say this because they bury the courier in the same way they bury Chance, another Khan whose grave you can find in game, in his armor and with his weapon. And I just think it's fun and interesting to think that these guys who, from the comic we know wanted no real part in any of this and are only here for money, laid the courier to rest in the most respectful way they knew-- like one of theirs.

And actually according to one of the trailers the couriers hands are unbound while in their grave so. And they're still fully clothed. So actually Doc Mitchell giving the courier the vault suit is more likely because he had to dispose of their og clothing because yknow. It'd be filthy from being in the ground and on the couriers comatose body (do you know what the body does when it's comatose. Trust me you don't want those clothes back) and also knowing emergency medicine the courier was probably cut out of their clothes because if you're concerned about a head/neck injury cutting clothes off is less disruptive then trying to wiggle an unconscious person out of them and possibly causing more damage.

Anyway. Either way the Khans and Benny still show more respect to the couriers "dead" body then the courier/you the player show to any of your victims I mean. How many powder gangers did you strip naked and leave to rot under the desert sun? Or legionaries? Or raiders? Or the Khans themselves? Much to think about

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Ok, I've thought about it for a while and I've decided on what I want to request. This is a mix of angsty/fluffy maybe suggestive so let me know if this is too much but I'm thinking dormleaders from twst x faker reader. By faker I mean reader is always acting suave and they are really flirty, but a lot of the time they are overthinking about how they must be annoying people. (totally not speaking from personal experience) Reader's love language is physical touch so they always want to be cuddling or at least touching somehow. Reader is teasing and then one day their s/o snaps at them for being clingy and that makes reader give up and spiral on how they must be stupid for thinking that their s/o actually liked them. Then reader doesn't talk to their s/o for a while, (lets say 2-3 days, maybe) eventually reader is cornered by their s/o and admits how they feel. Fluff ensues and reader gets to worship and praise their s/o's body like they wanted. Then reader is reassured in their connection with their s/o.

Is that a lot? I feel like it's a lot, I'm so sorry please ignore me if I am overstepping. Thank you so much for even looking at that massive hunk of text and attempting to decipher it.

Well wishes, love - 🕸 anon (Dec 17, 2023)

Dorm Heads - Male Reader Who's Clingy & Flirty To Hide Their Insecurity

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hey 🕸Spiderweb Anon, It's almost been a year since you sent this to me; I'm so sorry that I've ignored it until now! You probably don't even remember that you sent this in the first place, but I hope I captured what you wanted all that time ago. Sidenote– I took the avoiding part out because they have too much influence in the NRC for you to avoid them, I'm just being realistic here. This post is written in the second person. The lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Super Shy” by New Jeans. —Benny🐰

WARNINGS ➔ Canon Personality Leona & Vil; They Aren't Very Empathetic in Canon and I'm Tired of Getting Complaints From Anons About How ‘Mean’ They Are in My Writing So There's The Warning

WORD COUNT: 4,301 words

                                                                                                   

❝𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞, 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞-- 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙 𝖆 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖙𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝕴 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊, 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊-- 떨리는 지금도 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊-- 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞, 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞~❞

. . .

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

🌹  This little British boy is all about doing things in the right place at the right time, but his reaction also depends on his mood and other outliers. Riddle does enjoy it when you give him physical affection and stick close to him, it makes him feel desired and cared for, however, if you do it too often, he'll feel suffocated. As for flirting… I don't think it matters what time you do it, he won’t take it too well. Riddle feels like flirting is very private and depends on the circumstances; plus, he gets embarrassed in intimate situations due to his love-lacking childhood. However, he does like to feel handsome and desirable to you so he won't complain too much; if you're doing it in front of others or in an inappropriate setting, prepare to have a collar around your neck.

🌹  Remember the collar? You're getting collared, but he's channeling his anger in a non-violent way, right? The only way I believe Riddle would snap at you is if you continuously forgot (or ignored) his warnings and reminders about your behavior and how he feels about it. Keep in mind that he considers three times to be continuous. There will be a lot of yelling, his face will resemble a tomato, and you will certainly cry. While he's not as quick to anger as before he overblotted, he still has a pretty short temper and can hold a grudge for quite a long time, so I hope that collar is comfortable. Riddle will eventually remove it, but while he's avoiding you out of disappointment in himself, it won’t be at the top of the list of things to address. And yes, he will run to his therapi– I mean, Trey, for help to fix all of this.

🌹  Riddle… has never been all that good at apologies or accepting that he's in the wrong in the first place, so it'll take him a while to work up the courage and the maturity to apologize to you. He'd probably go and get you from your dorm and drag you off to his own to sit down for tea and awkwardly beat around the bush for a while. But, if you're silent for long enough, he'll push his pride aside and admit he was wrong with how he went about reacting as well as explaining why exactly he got so upset with you. Riddle will set clear boundaries after apologizing for his behavior and will explain the reasons why your actions were unacceptable to him. While he would prefer that you forgive him, he makes it clear that you don't have to and that he needs to work on expressing his irritation in a less harmful way to benefit both of you.

🌹  After sitting down for tea and discussing your insecurity, Riddle would be both incredibly supportive of you and somewhat disappointed that you don't trust that he loves you enough to think you're worthy of him. It breaks his heart that he subconsciously made you feel like you had to act out the way you did. Riddle makes sure to establish that he loves you as you are, insecurity and all. He sets aside time for you two to spend time together and lets you indulge in giving him as much physical affection as you want.

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“Don't pretend to be someone you're not; I like you jus’ as you are when you're yourself. If you want to touch me that's fine; jus’-! jus' do it in a private place... alright, My Rose?”  

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🦁  Leona does not like being clung to or touched often. He prefers it if he's the one to initiate physical contact and affection, it helps him feel more in control. Most times, he doesn't even touch you and only hangs out nearby (which could be inches away to just in the same general vicinity); he just prefers it that way. So, clinging to him, at all really, is a surefire way to piss him off, since he doesn't like the feeling of being restricted or weighted down; especially when he's just waking up, it makes him feel like he's suffocating. Flirting, on the other hand, is sort of a love language in itself for Leona; although his flirting is more on the low-energy side. Since he wants to make his partner feel desired by him he's bad at thinking of gifts and date locations and is too lazy to do acts of service, words of affirmation are his go-to. He doesn't like to do it too often though, or it doesn't feel as meaningful and genuine as he means it to sound.

🦁  Yikes. If he snapped at you… honestly, didn't you deserve it? You must be blind not to notice his discomfort with your actions which he voiced to you a few times. But, hey, maybe you didn't notice; some people can't read the room or other people well, and I don't blame you for that, because I can't either. As a feline, Leona values personal space and control more than most things, and your clinging to him will piss him off quickly. He can usually keep his mood in check, but all it takes is one bad day and you do that will 100% end in him taking all his pent-up irritation out on you. He'll most likely say some hurtful stuff in his fit of anger and won't see you for a few days. Leona might even ban you from his dorm for those few days if he's pissed enough; he doesn't want to feel like the bad guy, so he won't acknowledge that he is for a bit.

🦁  Honestly? Leona is the type of person who gets over stuff after a few hours to a few days and expects you to do the same. If you don't and you bring it up again, he'll likely hit you with the ‘That was so long ago and you aren't over it yet?’. However, he'll get it into his head that he may have seriously hurt your feelings if he sees any drastic changes in your behavior. Things like avoiding him, not speaking to him, cowering away from him, flinching, ending the conversation when you see him nearby, and leaving the room after he enters. But what gets Leona bad, is if he sees that he made you cry. When I tell you that this man will be on his knees after seeing just the reddening of your eyes I'm not joking. He didn't think he upset you that bad before but now, he's groveling for your forgiveness, because he knows that you're the only person that's willing to put up with his shit on top of loving you more than the air he breathes each day.

🦁  Leona will treat you like royalty after he apologizes, explaining that while he doesn't like being touched he'll indulge you now and then because he knows you just want to show him how much you love him. He'll also do his best to dispel all of your insecurities and remind you that it's not you that doesn't deserve him, but him that doesn't deserve you. Although Leona isn't the best person in Twisted Wonderland, he'll try his best for you.

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“HEY- GET OFF! –Oh shit, no no no, I didn’t mean to make ya cry. M’sorry, I just got startled ‘n’ today has been shit, so I took it out on ya in the end. Nakupenda, Wangu*; ya know that doncha?”  

 🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

🐙  This one's hard… while I want to say that Azul would greatly appreciate your affection toward him and his body; we also have to take into account his issues with his self-image. Going by that– I don't think that he would like it if you touched him very often. The problem wouldn't be that he's uncomfortable, embarrassed, or annoyed, but that he doesn't want you to touch him and then feel disgusted with how his body is shaped. Like you're insecure about whether you're worthy of him, he's insecure about if he's worthy of you. The flirting, though, he wouldn't mind too much. Azul loves your praise, as it means that you find him attractive enough to talk to him that way. This poor man has such serious body issues that it's ridiculous, so if you flirt with him too often, he won't think it's genuine anymore and that you're making fun of him.

🐙  With Azul it's probably just a spur-of-the-moment outburst mixed with his stress and insecurity type of thing. In absolutely no way did he mean to direct this outburst at you, you just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back, and like a shell on the beach, all his reason was swept away by the tide. He's the kind of guy who bottles all of his stress and grievances and your actions happened to make him reach his breaking point and everything just came out all at once. Azul likely just yelled at you to leave him be and get out of his office; fleeing to his octopot in regretful tears once you left the room and not coming out for days until he could get himself together again. He had to be coaxed into eating by Jade and Floyd due to how bad he felt for blowing up on you.

🐙  This man is distraught; he is beside himself with grief, regret, and shame. It takes all of Azul's willpower and the somewhat aggressive coaxing of the tweels (mostly Floyd threatening to bite off one of his tentacles and send it to you as an apology gift) to get him to finally leave the safety and comfort of his octopot and go to knock on your door. As soon as that door opens, he goes full-on into apologizing profusely and explaining that while what you did irritated him a bit he in no way meant to direct all of his pent-up stress toward you and that your actions just happened to open the floodgates for him. Azul would be in tears by the time he finished speaking, praying that you wouldn't leave him because of this incident. If you forgive him, he cries in relief and if you don't, although he's sad, he understands and promises that he'll do everything in his power to win back your trust in him and make sure that this never happens again.

🐙  Azul will explain to you about his insecurity with his body and his fear of making you dislike him and his appearance. However, once he hears about your insecurities, he's kind of shocked; he was so caught up in his own self-loathing that he didn't even notice yours! Be assured that Jade locked you both in his office and didn't let you both out until you worked out a plan to condole the both of you of your worth to each other. You and Azul had fallen asleep in each other's arms by the time Floyd remembered that you were being held captive in there and opened the door. He took blackmail photos.

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

“Øjesten*, I… I apologize for my outburst; I'm just- I don’t like- ahem… ah… I have no excuse. You know how I feel about my appearance, I just didn’t want you to be disgusted with me. I’m sorry.”  

 🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞

👑  Vil lives for being appreciated. Whether it's through actions, words, objects, services, or just being admired; he loves it! However… there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. He loves you, but damn, he barely had any time to himself before getting with you, but now? It's not that he won't make time for you, he definitely tries, but he just has so much on his plate all the time. With managing his beauty routine, the dorm and its students, school work, modeling, singing, acting, keeping up his media appearances, and his one-sided rivalry with Neige, this man is BUSY. And that's not even mentioning the overblots that keep popping up out of nowhere; sorry hun, you're just going to have to squeeze in when you can or be okay with stopping yourself at just being near him as a way of spending time until he can fix his schedule. On the subject of flirting, though… yeah, don't even bother, but at the same time, yes, compliment him. Vil, being himself, has heard pretty much every compliment, praise, and risqué remark under the sun; you need to be very creative, or he'll probably just roll his eyes at you. If you do it too often, he'll get annoyed and probably ask if you have something better to do.

👑  Okay— I’m just going to cut this off right here- Vil is the type of person to set his boundaries with you immediately, so, at the very start of the relationship, you would know what to do and what not to do. However, if you end up doing it anyway (which would likely just be you forgetting about it or you're so stressed that it left your mind momentarily), there lies the problem.  If you did it after Vil already initially told you he didn’t like it the first time, he would just stop you, explain why he doesn’t want you to do it, and ask you to remember it for next time. Another thing- this man is a confident king (after his overblot), so he can smell your insecurity from a mile away. It will be addressed by him PERIOD. There is no way out of it- it WILL happen, I'm sorry. Either your insecurity will be gone quickly or your relationship will; it's one or the other, I implore you to just cooperate with him. Vil isn’t playing these games with you right now.

👑  I mentioned it earlier, but Vil will sit you down and address your insecurity with him; he's not the type of person to just let this issue go unsolved. Given his insecurity, however, he'll be very understanding of how you feel. The feeling of being less than others is something that Vil is familiar with, so he’ll do everything in his power to make you feel better about yourself.

🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞•♡•🪞

“I’ll make this clear, Mein schönste Liebe*, there’s no need for this little show you’re putting on. I don’t have a lot of patience, so quickly, tell me what the problem is so that I can fix it.”  

 🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

🪲  You're giving him more affection than usual? Sign Kalim the hell up! He loves it when you hold onto him and give him physical affection! Do you want to sit on his lap? Sure! Do you want to hang off his arm or wrap your own around his waist? Okay! Kisses and hugs? Absolutely! As for flirting, I don't think that he is too innocent to understand what you mean, but that he doesn't get it until five minutes to an hour later. A lot of times, Kalim will suddenly realize what you meant when the conversation subject has already shifted to a completely different topic. However, he has no issues with it, since he believes that flirting is just an extension of complimenting him; it's just worded in a more risqué way.

🪲  I’m going to be completely honest with you here, this boy is too kind and non-confrontational to snap at you at all, so it just wouldn't happen. If he did have an issue with your behavior he’d most likely just sit you down and explain what exactly he needed you to change and why. Kalim will leave no room for misunderstandings at all, so there would be no way to hurt feelings on either side. The only person who would possibly be upset in the situation is probably you, but that would only be because you have to find another way to cope with your unspoken insecurity. Kalim isn't the brash type, so I can’t see him losing his temper with you at any point unless you committed a heinous action or something.

🪲  Kalim would probably still apologize even if all he did was explain some things to you, he’s a person who’s very in tune with other people’s feelings, so he’d make sure that your relationship was still good after everything. He’d bring you to his room and cuddle you on his huge plush bed, covered in the smoothest blankets and softest pillows, letting you touch, feel, and compliment him all you want- but only if you let him do the same to you. Probably also ask Jamil (poor Jamil, give him a vacation) to make you both some snacks or something, Kalim won't let his baby be hungry.

🪲  You will not be forced to talk about your insecurity, but Kalim will heavily encourage it for the sake of your mental health and the stability of trust in your relationship. He wants to wait until you're comfortable enough, but he also doesn't want to wait for too long in case there's a repeat of this incident. There's also now a big concern in his heart that he made you feel like you couldn't be yourself or made you feel like you aren't enough at some point. It will eat Kalim up inside, so he'll become overly indulgent with you for some time until you sit him down and talk about it. He just doesn't want you to feel like he's being neglectful of your emotions and well-being again.

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

“Aiyah, Rohi*, I wasn’t trying to be mean, I promise. I love you so so so much; but sometimes, even a guy like me needs a little alone time, that’s all. I would never dislike you for such a small thing.”  

 🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

💀  Eh… Idia is a very very insecure guy, but he's also incredibly antisocial and is used to being all by his lonesome besides his little brother. He likes his personal space a whole lot more than he realizes, so, to be truthful, the clinginess isn't something that will sit well with him after he has experienced it one too many times. It's mostly because it'll happen at times when he's preoccupied with something that requires a lot of his attention; like gaming, watching anime, or reading manga/lite novels, and he gets irritable when he's interrupted. On the side of excessive flirting, however, he'll dislike it not just because he thinks you aren't being genuine; but also because the topic makes him uncomfortable. As mentioned already, Idia is not a social person, thus being on the receiving end of something like that is way out of his comfort zone. Doing it excessively will only make him even more uncomfortable, as he thinks that you don't care about his feelings on the matter when it's obvious he dislikes it.

💀  Idia is a quiet, shy, and non-confrontational guy, however, his annoyance can quickly overpower all of that if it builds long enough. Once he's reached the end of his patience, he doesn't bother to be careful and think about what he says. It's most likely that instead of targeting your appearance or status, he'll go for the things that you're most sensitive about. Keep in mind that during all of this, he's absent-minded; his mind doesn't register exactly who he's talking to and what he's saying before he opens his mouth while his eyes continue to stare at whatever he is doing on his monitor setup beforehand. However, once Idia realizes just what he said to you he's in absolute shock at himself; yes, he'd expect himself to behave that way to other people, but to you? He would never do it intentionally… Honestly, though, he'd be more upset that you aren't comfortable enough to act like yourself around him than anything else.

💀  Similar to Azul, Idia regrets his words immediately; he beats himself up about it as well. How the hell did those sparky comments he had in his head slip through his lips? He thought he had more self-control than that! Seriously though, the first thing he does after he realizes that he said all of that outlook is call you. When and if you don't pick up, he sends you a few texts apologizing straightforwardly and explaining that he was upset about a lot of things and took it out as well as the fact that he's on his way to your dorm to speak with you in person. Once Idia's at your door and when and if you open up, he'll hug you and profusely apologize, likely putting himself down as well so that he can hurt himself as he did you. It's up to you if you want to stop him, but just know that the self-depreciation with continue to ratchet up in severity as time goes on; his insecurity and self-doubt will be on full display to you to let you know that you can show him too.

💀  You know how Idia does online classes or stays in his dorm and uses his tablet instead? You can do that too! The both of you can attend class remotely and cuddle while you do your class work or listen to lectures. He can lay his head in your lap while he's watching anime or reading his novels and he can sit you in his lap while he's gaming. Surprisingly though, Idia even suggests going out and visiting cat cafes together or going to a secluded place outside and listening to an audiobook. He's willing to change up his routine and step out of his comfort zone to make sure you know how much he loves you. He would do anything for you– well… almost anything, just give him a bit more time to work up the willpower.

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“I… You know that I know what It's like to feel… like you're not enough. You don't– Y‐you know you don't have to pretend with me right? You can just be yourself when it's the two of us, P-psychí Mou*.”  

 🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

🐲  It depends on the place, the amount of people nearby who those people are, and his mood. As you know Malleus craves to be included, acknowledged, seen, and just to be given affection. This man is touch-starved to the max– but… he is still the prince of Briar Valley and must display a certain appearance to those who aren't close to or familiar with him. He'll allow small displays of affection out of the cover of his or your dorm room; things like holding hands, holding onto his forearm as you walk, briskly kissing each other's hands or cheeks, laying your heads on the other's shoulder, and other small but loving gestures. As long as you keep the more intimate actions away from prying eyes it's fine. As for flirting, Malleus also doesn't mind, but the same rules still apply. So long as you don't repeatedly show too much to those he doesn't wish to show your relationship to, he's happy as a dragon swimming in gold.

🐲  Malleus isn't the type of guy to snap at others, he confronts conflicts head-on if they pose an issue. However, if you do irritate him enough, he'll likely tell you that the both of you will have to take some time apart while he thinks about your relationship and what it means to the both of you. For him, crossing the boundaries that he has set is a violation of trust, respect, and understanding, and he needs to evaluate whether or not you're taking his thoughts, opinions, and feelings seriously. During your break, Malleus will avoid you, he'll greet you in the halls with a nod and carry on, there will be hardly a drop of affection from him until he's thought. He loves you, but for him, relationships are a very serious thing, and if you aren't respecting his boundaries, does he want to stay in a relationship with you?

🐲  He's not apologizing as there was no real wrongdoing on his part. However, if you felt hurt by his actions, he would calmly sit you down and carefully explain why he did them and follow that up by telling you that he felt hurt by your actions and he expects an explanation from you as well. Malleus is a patient and forgiving man, his life will stretch on for centuries and you and the relationship that the both of you have is a small but unforgettable part of that life. He doesn't want memories of a relationship with poor trust and communication between the participating parties; it just isn't worth it for him. Once you and Malleus have everything laid out on the table, he'll ask you to make sure to remember what he told you and that if you ever feel insecure in the future, simply talk with him and he'll talk you through it.

🐲  After you're very civil and diplomatic discussion of the ins and outs of your relationship, Malleus writes up a plan for the both of you. He lists the things that you both aren't comfortable with as well as things that you require and reworks his and your daily schedule around it. He does address your insecurity though, apologizing for making you feel like you aren't enough for him and making you feel like your relationship isn't important. Malleus loves you very deeply, and he wants to make sure that the two of you stay together in a happy relationship for as long as possible. He wants you to be a part of his family for as long as you love him, so he'll compromise as much as he needs to.

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

“I have made you feel as though you cannot be your true self at some point in our union and that won't do at all. You are Mon Raison D'être, without you, I do not have the will to carry on, I beg for your forgiveness.”  

 . . .

❝𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞, 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞-- 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙 𝖆 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖙𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝕴 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊, 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊-- 떨리는 지금도 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊-- 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞, 𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖞~❞

 *¹ ‘Nakupenda, Wangu’ translates from Swahili to mean ‘I love you, Mine’ with ‘Mine’ being a possessive term of endearment usually accompanying a sentence like ‘I love you’, though it can be used by itself.

*² ‘Øjesten’ roughly translates from old-fashioned Danish to mean ‘The apple of my eye’.

*³ ‘Mein schönste Liebe’ translates from German to mean ‘My Most Beautiful Love’, though if you took off the last word, ‘My Most Beautiful’ can still stand on its own as a term of endearment.

*⁴ ‘Rohi’ translates from Arabic to mean ‘My Soul Mate’; calling someone ‘Rohi’ means that you love them longer than your life as they are your soulmate.

*⁵ ‘Psychí mou’ translates from Greek to mean ‘My Soul’’

*⁶ ‘Ma Raison D’être’ translates from French to mean ‘My Reason for Being’ which is usually used only to express the deepest love and passion.

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

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