gatefleet

[gatefleet]

I completely forgot I was in this tag :')

Damn Danno

Your Danny work is phenomenal. We know how he feels about his car. What about this prompt for him?

90)  Kissin' in my car

Tagging: @kmc1989 @football1921 @fangirling-alert @lovebookheart @navs-bhat @star017

Summary: Danny's attempt to discuss the night before goes awry.

Companion piece to:

One Night - Danny realises he's made a mistake after the first night you've spent together.

Prequel to:

Distraction - Danny finds you to be a welcome distraction.

96 Hours - Danny worries after he doesn't hear from you.

Danny isn’t sure how the kissing starts.

All he knows is one minute the two of you are trying to have a conversation about the other night and the next he’s in the back seat of the Camero with his trousers down by his knees, hissing as he eases into you. Your pencil skirt is bunched up in his fist, pinned above your hips so he can see the lace tops of your nude stockings.

Knowing that you wear these fucking things in the court room…

It’s going to make every single one of his future testimonies that much harder.

The sound of heavy breathing fills the car. His. Yours. His palm slips down to your ass, gripping it for leverage as he thrusts up into you, hitting that perfect little spot deep down inside you.

“That’s it, isn’t it Nik?” He whispers, his eyes fixing on yours as his hips snap up, harder, faster chasing that sweet high. “You need me right there don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck Danny…” You cry out, your fingers grasping his shirt, almost tearing the damn thing off his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The rapture hits him like a wave, crashing into him with a relentless fury, stealing the oxygen right out of his lungs. He comes in long, hot spurts as you grip his dick, his hips stuttering as you wring every last drop of ecstasy right out of him.

“Jesus.” He mutters, his head tipping back onto the leather. His palms chase up the curve of your spine, roaming under the silk shirt that’s become untucked during your antics.

“Danny.” You whisper, your lips ghosting along the line of his jaw. “What the fuck are we doing?”

“I don’t know Nik.” He whispers back, his fingers combing through your hair. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

Love Danny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

Harper! ;-;

Flight Risk: Nick Torres x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @district447 @stelacole @gatefleet @mandy426

Companion piece to:

Casanova - You recieve an unwanted gift.

Promises - Nick makes you a promise.

Dry Land - Nick returns home.

A Little Naughty, A Little Nice - Casanova reflects on your relationship.

Safehouse - You and Nick spend a little time together in the safehouse whilst your stalker remains at large.

The Great Seducer - You finally meet the great seducer.

Blood - You're arrested for the murder of the deputy director.

When your name is called out in the courtroom, it takes everything inside of Nick not to go to you. He raises to his feet, his heart racing as he grips the wooden railing in front of him. He wants to be the first thing you see when you step through that door, he wants you to know he’s here fighting in your corner.

He still can’t believe that the Attorney General allowed the DOJ to bring charges against you, that you’ve spent the night in a cell waiting for your arraignment. He’s spent that time pooling his resources, organising a way to get as much cash together as possible so that he can pay whatever bail amount they set.

His heart sinks when he lays eyes on you. Your hair is loose and bedraggled, falling across the shoulders of your beige jumpsuit. There’s dark circles underneath your eyes and you walk with your face downcast, not looking up from the floor as you come to stand beside Harmon Rabb, clad in his JAG uniform at the defence table.

Nick sits down in his seat as the prosecutor organises her paperwork and the session begins. There’s a lot of back and forth between Rabb and the prosecutor, Nick’s stomach churns as he listens to the arguments. It goes on for fifteen minutes before the judge finally calls time on it to deliver her ruling.

“Given the severity of the charges and due to Ms Doherty’s extensive record of undercover work I deem her to be an extreme flight risk. She’s be remanded into custody pending trial.”

“No.” He erupts leaping to his feet and jabbing his finger at the judge. “No that’s not fucking right, he was trying to hurt her! She was protecting herself!”

The courtroom bursts into chaos then, the judge banging her gavel as he’s restrained by two security officers. He fights them, kicking, screaming as you’re torn away from him and hustled through the door.

“Nick you need to stop this, it isn’t going to help her.” Rabb tells him but the words they fall on deaf ears because Nick’s in the throes of madness.

He ends up being held in contempt of court. He spends a couple of hours in a cell before he’s fined for his outburst. He’s a broken man when he steps outside, the sun shines down on him but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel anything anymore.

There’s just this numbness settling in his veins as he sits inside his truck, staring through the windscreen. His hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he remembers your face when he lost his shit, how resigned you looked.

The knowledge that you’re giving up is what sent him hurtling over the edge, the thought of you spending the rest of your life in prison.  

For you the story is written in stone but Nick, he won’t allow it. He will fight until his dying breath to make sure you’re free.

Love Nick? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

Jesus, I did not expect that!

Poor Bucky ;-;

warnings: thunderbolts spoilers!!! oh and death

a/n: cant stop writing bucky angst

not requested

Another goddamned room. Another memory dredged up for Bucky to confront with a bunch of strangers in his company. Here they were in a CIA base in Berlin. This incident was classified, the only one who recognized the setting was John, who looked at Bucky with sorrow in his eyes. He had tried to rid himself of this guilt for years, but it was never going to be something he could let go.

The Winter Soldier had been activated not long after Bucky was in custody—with you not far away. You’d been apprehended for aiding and abetting after the CIA found you and Bucky in hiding in Romania. Now the Winter Soldier had been attacking everyone in sight, and his next target was you.

“Bucky, stop!” You pleaded, beginning to run away from him in a last ditch effort of survival. That was his only advice for you when you asked what to do if he reverted. Unfortunately, you weren’t as fast or strong as the super soldier. He caught you within moments and after a few weak kicks and a soft begging for your life, Bucky’s metal hand clenched around your neck. You fell to the ground lifelessly, and Bucky looked up to see Steve watching in horror.

Bucky nearly cracked seeing him kill you again. A nightmare he had for years after the incident. You were the love of his life and in one moment of weakness—someone else’s vendetta—you had died by his hand. He fell to his knees in front of your corpse and closed your bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry, dragă.” John, Ava, and Alexei were just as horrified at the sight of his kill—because that should have never happened.

“Are you okay?” John put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky shook his head. “I can’t imagine how it feels.” Soon Ava and Alexei’s hands were touching his back and a small sob came from Bucky’s covered face, and the sound of you screaming rang again. Bucky stood up and slammed his Winter Soldier self into the wall, trying to kill him. “Buck, come on!”

The room reset again and a defeated Bucky understood he couldn’t change anything and he’d never feel love like that again. Even after forgiving Zemo, he couldn’t forgive himself.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 // @lenaelleu //

[gatefleet]

@bullet-prooflove I don't know if I'm ready 😭

Fight Night: Joe Hill x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @impossibleblizzardstudentposts @madisonbroxson1 @baconeggndcheez  @queenofbooksandneverland 

Summary: The one thing Joe can't stand is people talking shit about you.

Companion piece to:

Good Girl (NSFW) - You're not always such a good girl.

Joe Fucking Hill - You're there for Joe when he has a crisis of identity.

Joe has a problem walking away from assholes. He’s been working on since the whole Reagan thing came out because as you so rightfully pointed out, he can’t go around punching every son of a bitch that calls him a nepo baby, no matter how much he may want to.

He’s had to develop a thicker skin which is why he ignores Detective Brennan at the bar when the other man starts gets rowdy about his heritage. The guy’s a drunk, not worth the time of day.  

It’s when he starts running his mouth about you that Joe loses his shit. Say what you want about him but you talk smack about riding his girl’s cunt and there’s going to be a reckoning.

He ends up breaking the son of a bitch’s nose. He hears the crack erupt as his fist connects, the blood jetting out all over this shirt but Brennan he doesn’t know to stay the fuck down, he comes back swinging in that wild way that only a man with too many whiskies in him can. He tackles Joe into one of the tables and the two of them crash through it in a sea of wood, glass and beer. It doesn’t last long, Brennan gets a couple of shitty jabs in before Joe manages to get the upper hand with a straight shot across the other man’s jaw. It stuns him for long enough that a couple of other guys from his precinct manage to pull the two of them apart.

“Keep her fucking name out of your fucking mouth.” Joe hurls at the other man as he’s dragged outside spewing venom.

The fight goes out of him when he catches sight of Danny stalking towards him. He’s not sure if he was in here drinking when the fight started or if someone called him, either way the expression on the other man’s face tells him everything he needs to know about his opinion on the matter.

“I get it.” He tells his uncle as his hand clasped Joe’s shoulder guiding him into a barstool. “I’m a disappointment to the Reagan name.”

Danny’s lips purse together in a grim line as he takes a couple of ice cubes out of the abandoned whiskey glass and wraps a napkin around them. He hands the make shift ice pack to Joe before settling into the stool across from him.

“That your girl he’s spitting poison about, the one that’s undercover?” He asks and Joe nods his head, ignoring the ache that rises in his chest everytime he thinks about you out there alone. “For the record I probably would have bashed his face in too.”

“They all think that she left me.” He finds himself telling Danny, pressing the ice to his throwing face. “That that’s the reason she’s not around anymore and I can’t tell them it’s because she’s gathering intel in a human trafficking ring, that she’s risking her life so save other people’s.”

“It’s a tough spot.” Danny says empathically. “I know that investigation was supposed to be over a couple of months ago, that it’s been extended again.”

Joe doesn’t speak, he sighs instead shifting the home made ice pack further up his left eye. The truth is this Reagan shit, it’s a lot easier to deal with when you’re around. At the moment he’s treading water, trying to keep his head above the surface but Joe, he’s getting tired and he can feel the waves starting to lap above his head with every single day that goes by.

“You must miss her.” Danny needles and that temper of his, it just flares right back up again because he gets to go home to an empty bed tonight, he gets to lie there and run through every single scenario, praying that you’ll be alright.

“That’s not why this happened.” He snaps at Danny. “He started running his mouth-” He cuts himself off. “You know what it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does matter.” Danny cajoles. “It matters to you and I want you to know that you can talk to me and if you don’t wanna talk we can head down the boxing gym and go a couple of rounds instead of you beating the shit out of assholes that don’t know when to keep their mouth shut.”

“You think it’ll help?” Joe asks, pulling the ice away from his face and giving it a second to rest.

“I think you’re dealing with a lot and your person, she’s not here to help you through it.” Danny summarizes before shrugging his shoulders. “So let me help you carry the weight for a while, just until she gets back.”

Joe didn’t realise how much he needed to hear someone else say the words until they leave Danny’s mouth. His fear, the one that keeps him up at night is that you don’t make it home and it’s been eating him up everytime he looks at the vacant space beside him.

“Thanks Danny.” He says, his voice rough with emotion. “I might just take you up on that.”

Love Joe? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

Aww Joe ;-;

Fight Night: Joe Hill x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @impossibleblizzardstudentposts @madisonbroxson1 @baconeggndcheez  @queenofbooksandneverland 

Summary: The one thing Joe can't stand is people talking shit about you.

Companion piece to:

Good Girl (NSFW) - You're not always such a good girl.

Joe Fucking Hill - You're there for Joe when he has a crisis of identity.

Joe has a problem walking away from assholes. He’s been working on since the whole Reagan thing came out because as you so rightfully pointed out, he can’t go around punching every son of a bitch that calls him a nepo baby, no matter how much he may want to.

He’s had to develop a thicker skin which is why he ignores Detective Brennan at the bar when the other man starts gets rowdy about his heritage. The guy’s a drunk, not worth the time of day.  

It’s when he starts running his mouth about you that Joe loses his shit. Say what you want about him but you talk smack about riding his girl’s cunt and there’s going to be a reckoning.

He ends up breaking the son of a bitch’s nose. He hears the crack erupt as his fist connects, the blood jetting out all over this shirt but Brennan he doesn’t know to stay the fuck down, he comes back swinging in that wild way that only a man with too many whiskies in him can. He tackles Joe into one of the tables and the two of them crash through it in a sea of wood, glass and beer. It doesn’t last long, Brennan gets a couple of shitty jabs in before Joe manages to get the upper hand with a straight shot across the other man’s jaw. It stuns him for long enough that a couple of other guys from his precinct manage to pull the two of them apart.

“Keep her fucking name out of your fucking mouth.” Joe hurls at the other man as he’s dragged outside spewing venom.

The fight goes out of him when he catches sight of Danny stalking towards him. He’s not sure if he was in here drinking when the fight started or if someone called him, either way the expression on the other man’s face tells him everything he needs to know about his opinion on the matter.

“I get it.” He tells his uncle as his hand clasped Joe’s shoulder guiding him into a barstool. “I’m a disappointment to the Reagan name.”

Danny’s lips purse together in a grim line as he takes a couple of ice cubes out of the abandoned whiskey glass and wraps a napkin around them. He hands the make shift ice pack to Joe before settling into the stool across from him.

“That your girl he’s spitting poison about, the one that’s undercover?” He asks and Joe nods his head, ignoring the ache that rises in his chest everytime he thinks about you out there alone. “For the record I probably would have bashed his face in too.”

“They all think that she left me.” He finds himself telling Danny, pressing the ice to his throwing face. “That that’s the reason she’s not around anymore and I can’t tell them it’s because she’s gathering intel in a human trafficking ring, that she’s risking her life so save other people’s.”

“It’s a tough spot.” Danny says empathically. “I know that investigation was supposed to be over a couple of months ago, that it’s been extended again.”

Joe doesn’t speak, he sighs instead shifting the home made ice pack further up his left eye. The truth is this Reagan shit, it’s a lot easier to deal with when you’re around. At the moment he’s treading water, trying to keep his head above the surface but Joe, he’s getting tired and he can feel the waves starting to lap above his head with every single day that goes by.

“You must miss her.” Danny needles and that temper of his, it just flares right back up again because he gets to go home to an empty bed tonight, he gets to lie there and run through every single scenario, praying that you’ll be alright.

“That’s not why this happened.” He snaps at Danny. “He started running his mouth-” He cuts himself off. “You know what it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does matter.” Danny cajoles. “It matters to you and I want you to know that you can talk to me and if you don’t wanna talk we can head down the boxing gym and go a couple of rounds instead of you beating the shit out of assholes that don’t know when to keep their mouth shut.”

“You think it’ll help?” Joe asks, pulling the ice away from his face and giving it a second to rest.

“I think you’re dealing with a lot and your person, she’s not here to help you through it.” Danny summarizes before shrugging his shoulders. “So let me help you carry the weight for a while, just until she gets back.”

Joe didn’t realise how much he needed to hear someone else say the words until they leave Danny’s mouth. His fear, the one that keeps him up at night is that you don’t make it home and it’s been eating him up everytime he looks at the vacant space beside him.

“Thanks Danny.” He says, his voice rough with emotion. “I might just take you up on that.”

Love Joe? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

My, my, my Mister Wilson

Cherry: Harry Wilson x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me @hagarsays @misskrose @pascal-rascal424

Summary: Harry finds a way to help you relax after a busy couple of days.

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You’re Harry’s first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

Bourbon (NSFW) - The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon… it’s sinful.

Court Days - Court days are your favourite days.

The Corkscrew - You realise Harry isn’t the person you thought he is when you see him on a date with another man.

A Southern Man - Harry and you discuss his revealation.

Say It With Flowers - Harry gets a surprise when he discovers a dozen red roses sitting on your breakfast bar.

Cherries are notoriously hard to grow in New Orleans which is why Harry always buys them for you at the farmer’s market. You’ve tried a handful of times to grow your own over the years but they just don’t take to the climate. It’s the bane of living in Louisiana. At least that’s what you tell him as you lie back on a chequered picnic blanket in one of your fields, wearing a white tank top, black bicycle shorts and his sun glasses.

He hasn’t seen you in a couple of days, you’d had to travel up to The Mint in Kentucky to rescue a horse who’d fractured it’s leg at the race track. It’s a sixteen hour drive there and back so you’d been wrecked when you’d gotten in late last night. You’d insisted he stay at his place because you knew he had court in the morning. You’d been up again with the sunrise so that the vet could assess the situation.

You’re running on fumes and Harry thought an evening picnic might be the way to convince you tp take a little R&R instead of exhausting yourself even further.

“I can give you an hour.” You’d told him when he turned up with the hamper and a couple of cold beers. It’s been almost three because you’ve started to doze as the temperature shifts to something cooler. He plucks one of the cherries from the carton, running it lightly over your pert lips, you moan, biting into the fruit, juice smearing across the corner of your mouth.

Harry leans in, his lips brushing over it, licking up the sweetness from your sun kissed skin. He guides the cherry along the delicate curve of your throat, discarding it as his mouth ventures lower, his teeth seeking out your nipple through the fabric of your tank. He nips lightly, your hips bucking at the sensation as your head tips back onto the pillow he’s made from his folded up suit jacket.

“You need to relax.” He mumbles against your skin, his fingertips teasing along the elastic of your bike shorts. “And I need to taste you. Lets see if we can’t help each other out.”

He guides the shorts down your thighs along with your underwear, tossing them onto the grass. His lips weave a heated trail past your navel before he situates himself between your thighs, his five o’clock shadow leaving a delicious friction across the delicate skin. His tongue sweeps over your clit, a light gentle touch that makes you sigh with contentment as he begins to tease, in slow, deliberate circles.

The pleasure comes in waves, crashing against the shore in a firm relentless rhythm that has your breath hitching. Your fingers thread through his hair, grasping it as his tongue delves lower, thrusting inside you. His thumb continues working your clit, chasing your ecstasy, building it until it reaches the crescendo, a symphony of rapture.

You say his name when you come and it’s the sweetest sound on God’s green earth as he licks up that honey, cleaning up the mess he’s made of you.

“Jesus.” You whisper as he kisses his way up your body, his palms roving over your skin, grounding you in the moment. His body covers yours and you can feel him, hard and wanting, pressing against your core through his suit trousers.

“Better?” He whispers, his mouth brushing over yours. You can taste yourself on him, mixed with the sweetness of the cherry as he kisses your mouth.

“Not yet.” You tell him as you begin to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, drawing it down his shoulders. “The only thing that’s going to get me there is if you give me the rest of you too.”

Love Harry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

Well, I now need to get my next partner teach me how to play a game I'm already less than good at <.< >.>

Ngl that a/n at the end sent me reeling, my eyes dragged to it before I finished the fic and I laughed so hard that my drink nearly came out my nose.

lined up 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, sexual tension, dry humping, dominant!bucky, teasing, rough flirting, dirty talk

summary: bucky teaches you how to play pool. based on this request

word count: 995

author's note: pool is such a hot game, i love it, though i honestly suck at it.

The recreational room was quiet for once. No Alexei bellowing about rematches, no Yelena complaining about the vending machine, no sarcastic commentary from John. Just dim, flickering lights above, the low hum of some old speaker system, and the pool table that sat dead center like an unspoken challenge.

You shouldn’t have lingered. Should’ve kept walking when you saw him there, Bucky in a tactical tee with the sleeves pushed up, his forearms flexing as he chalked the cue with quiet focus.

But you didn’t walk away. Not when his rare good mood hung in the air like smoke. Not when his smirk was already loaded with trouble.

“Ever played before?” he asked, twirling the cue between his fingers so effortlessly it made your pulse skip.

“Once,” you replied, breath catching. “I sucked.”

His smile was slow, knowing. “I’ll teach you.”

Now you were bent over the edge of the table, cue in hand, trying not to squirm under the heat of his stare. You focused on the balls as hard as it was, instead of the way his shirt clung to his chest or how that muscle ticked in his jaw every time you shifted.

“Widen your stance,” Bucky murmured behind you, the sudden closeness making your breath hitch. “You’re too stiff.”

You obeyed before your brain even caught up, spreading your legs just slightly, only for him to step in behind you, boots heavy on the floor, presence unmistakable. His hands landed on your hips, strong and certain, the kind of grip that made your stomach twist with want.

“Here,” he said roughly, “let me help.”

He guided you forward until your body touched the table, the cool felt brushing your forearms as his front pressed against your back. You could feel him, heat and muscle, that dense, coiled strength that made him lethal on the field and devastating off it. The brush of his cock against your ass was unmistakable, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Bucky,” you breathed, voice catching.

“Shh,” he said, mouth near your ear, voice barely restrained. “Just showing you how it’s done.”

His metal hand slid down your side, cold against the heat of your skin, until it reached your hand on the cue. He adjusted your grip with slow, practiced movements, but his hips never moved away, if anything, he pressed in harder, grinding just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“Now bend over a little more.”

You obeyed, and that earned you a low, guttural sound. It wasn’t a word, it was need.

“You gotta stop doing that,” he murmured, grinding against you in a slow, filthy motion that made your thighs clench. “You’re making it real hard to focus.”

“I thought you were supposed to be teaching me,” you said with a faint, teasing lilt.

“Oh, I am,” he whispered, hips dragging against you again. “Lesson one: let me fuckin’ focus.”

Your smirk faltered when he pushed forward again, cock thick and hard through his jeans, grinding against your ass with agonising control. You gasped, hands tightening on the table.

“That part of the game?” you managed, voice shaking.

He chuckled darkly. “Only when you bend over the table like that, sweetheart.”

The cue was taken from your hand and dropped behind you without care. His flesh hand ran up your spine, then pushed gently between your shoulder blades until your cheek nearly touched the felt.

“Bucky-" you started, but he cut you off with a quiet growl.

“I’m not gonna fuck you here,” he said, grinding into you harder, his cock sliding exactly where you needed him. “Not yet. Just wanna feel you like this.”

You whimpered as he rocked against you again, the friction obscene. He was fully hard now, thick and heavy, and you could feel every inch of him through both layers of fabric. Your body arched instinctively into him, and he let out a dark, broken groan.

“You like teasing me?” he growled. “Wearing those tight little pants? Bending over like this? Think I haven’t noticed how you look at me during training?”

Your thighs pressed together without thinking, your whole body burning. Then his hand slid between your legs and pressed against your core. Even through your jeans, you knew he could feel how wet you were.

“Fucking soaked,” he muttered, his fingers pressing harder. “And I haven’t even touched you properly.”

“You’re insane,” you choked out, barely holding on.

“No,” he murmured. “I’m patient. If I wasn’t, your pants would already be around your ankles and this table would be shaking.”

The words made you clench, dizzy from the arousal pulsing through your body. His lips found your neck then, hot, rough, biting, the kind of messy affection that left no question about what he wanted. His metal hand squeezed your ass, fingers digging into the flesh with a possessiveness that made you moan.

“You think I’m not dying to fuck you right here?” he rasped. “Right now? But I’m not gonna. Not until you beg.”

You arched against him with a sound that was half whimper, half plea.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say please.”

You shook your head, panting, defiant even as your body screamed for him.

He froze behind you. Then, again, voice edged with steel.

“Say. It.”

Your voice trembled. “Please… Bucky. Please.”

The growl that rumbled from his chest was primal. His hips gave one more brutal grind into you, enough to make your knees buckle. And then, he stepped back.

The loss of contact was immediate and devastating. You spun to face him, trembling, wide-eyed, flushed with need.

“Why-?”

“You’re not ready,” he said smoothly, retrieving the cue like nothing had happened. “Not yet.”

“You bastard,” you muttered, voice wrecked.

He leaned in again, lips brushing your ear like a promise you’d never forget.

“Lesson two’s gonna be about patience, sweetheart.”

And then he lined up his shot, cue tapping the ball like he hadn’t just left you soaked and shaking.

a/n: also after writing this, i asked my boyfriend to teach me how to play pool properly ;)

[gatefleet]

If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.

If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform

None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.

THIS GOES DOUBLY FOR ARTISTS.

[gatefleet]

Aww I'm so excited to see how this develops! <3

Say It With Flowers: Harry Wilson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me @hagarsays @misskrose @pascal-rascal424

Summary: Harry gets a surprise when he discovers a dozen red roses sitting on your breakfast bar.

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

Bourbon (NSFW) - The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Court Days - Court days are your favourite days.

The Corkscrew - You realise Harry isn't the person you thought he is when you see him on a date with another man.

The Fixer - Harry returns to the place it all started in an attempt to reconnect wiith you.

A Southern Man - Harry and you discuss his revealation.

Roses aren’t your thing, which is why Harry is surprised when he steps inside your house the next morning to find two dozen of them sitting on the breakfast bar, residing in a crystal vase, you certainly don’t own.

“You got someone else courting you darlin’?” He signs to you because you’ve just gotten out of the shower and you aren’t wearing your hearing aids.

You sigh, plucking the card from within the flowers and pushing it towards him. He picks it up, frowning as he studies the words written in block capitals.

“Oh.” He says, keeping his head tilted up so that you can read his lips. “They’re from Neal. I mentioned I was spending some time at the horse sanctuary because rehabilitating racehorses was my character Arthur’s passion. He’s been texting me all night. I had to give Breanna the phone because it was driving me crazy”

Neal, is the man they’ve been running the con on, the one you saw holding Harry’s hand the other night. He’s been using romance scams to scam people out of thousands of dollars, breaking their hearts and their banks.

“Hm.” You respond before signing. “Neal is a real thirsty bitch.”

“He certainly is.” Harry signs back after placing the card back down on the breakfast bar. “Look, I want to reassure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about, if you remember what I was telling you about Mardi Gras, he isn’t even my type-”

You snort and Harry’s heart sinks until you use your hand to shift the roses to the right, revealing a pretty hand painted water jug of windflowers. It’s a beautiful colourful summer bloom that looks like a cross between a poppy and a daisy. Each flower is bright and vibrant, from the crisp white to the rich burgundy to that stunning cornflower blue hue that just pops between them.

“If he doesn’t know you well enough to buy your favourite flowers, he doesn’t deserve you.” You sign and he can tell you’re teasing him by the way the left side of your mouth quirks up.

“Did you go to the flower market especially for me?” Harry asks, feeling a swell of emotion raising up in chest. He cannot vocalise just how much this means to him. His ex-wife she never focused on the little things, the things that tell someone how much you care for them. You, you’re all about that, you live in a world where actions can be more powerful than words and he cherishes every small gesture you make in the relationship.

“I thought they would make you smile.” You tell him simply. “This con is tough on you because of our relationship and I wanted to reassure you that I’m still going to be there at the end of the day when you’re done with Neal.”

You put extra emphasis on the name to show your distain for the man. Romance scams, they’re heart breaking on so many levels, it takes a real prick to play on people’s vulnerabilities to take their trust and to shatter it into a million pieces.

“You know what Sugar, I’ve just had a thought.” Harry signs before a smile crosses his handsome features. “Why don’t you come see me in action, witness Neal’s downfall in real time?”

“Are you serious?” He can tell you’re excited by the speed your hands move, it takes his brain a moment to catch up once you’ve finished.

“Yeah.” He says, feeling his own excitement rise up because he wants to share this part of his life with you, he wants to share every part of his life with you. “Let’s pull back the curtain, show you the art of the con.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

I forgot how much I missed this pairing

The Siren's Call: Eliot Spencer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @witchygagirl @witchcraftandwit @all-by-myself98

Summary: It takes one season for Eliot Spencer to fall in love.

Companion piece to:

Tears of Pearl - It starts with a pearl necklace for you and Eliot.

Prequel to:

Star - Eliot realises he's made a terrible mistake.

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

Monster - Eliot realises how much of a monster Moreau really is.

It’s that first summer that Eliot realises that he’s falling in love with you. He tries to rationalise it by reminding himself just how long it’s been since he took a woman, that that’s the reason his gaze lingers a little longer when you’re by the pool, why his cock starts to stir when you ask him to help you apply suntan lotion. He looks forward to the days when you’ll wear more layers, when he doesn’t have to see that pretty ass of yours clad in a swimsuit.

When the fall moves in he expects the infatuation to end but it doesn’t, instead his focus shifts from bare skin to your mannerisms, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re reading a book, the fact you cradle your pumpkin latte against your chest like you’re trying to warm your heart when you watch the world go by outside.

He doesn’t blame you for wanting that, the man you’re going to marry he doesn’t have any affection for you, he barely acknowledges your existence outside of public events. The rest of the time your Rapunzel locked away in a gilded tower.

It comes to a head when you drop your book. It’s a big bulky thing that you find hard to balance on your lap as you reach for your tea. It slips from your knee, hitting the floor with an echo that resounds through the library.

“Fuck.” You mutter as he crouches down to pick it up and he finds himself smiling because it’s the least lady-like he has ever heard you throughout his duration as your bodyguard.

“It’s fine, no damage-” and that’s when he looks up, meeting your eyes.

They capture him like a siren’s call, beckoning him closer, summoning him to dash himself on the rocks just like that myth and that’s exactly what he does. He reaches up, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear before his mouth seeks out yours.

That kiss, it hits him like lighting, jolting  through his nerve endings, awakening things he thought he’d buried long ago. He pulls away, but your fingers thread through his hair pulling him back.

“Do it again.” You whisper, your forehead coming to rest upon his. “Please Eliot, kiss me again.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

Harry! Mon Ami!

Bourbon: Harry Wilson x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me

Summary: The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

The things you do with bourbon, they’re sinful.

Filthy, debauched, ruinous.

Those are just some of the words that Harry would use to describe what the two of you have gotten up to tonight with that bottle of O.F.C 1993, a whiskey so rare he spent ten grand at the charity auction to obtain it.

When you’d first suggested a private tasting after the event, he’d had no idea of your intentions, not until you’d unfastened the buttons of his shirt and dripped a delicate trail all the way down his chest to his dick. You’d driven him to delirium sucking the bourbon off his cock, his hands tangling in your hair as he thrust up into your mouth, the warmth from the whiskey heightening the sensation.

“Save it for me, mon cœur.” You had drawled, pulling off his dick with a lewd pop as he reached the precipice. “When you come tonight its going to be with me.”

You’d sunk down onto his cock, whisky bottle still in your hand and Harry’s head had tipped back into the couch cushions because the way you feel wrapped around him, there ain’t nothing like it on this God given earth.

You sip from the bottle, holding the bourbon in your mouth before you grasp his jaw and kiss him. The whiskey pours down his throat, that familiar fever erupting  in his chest as he licks the sweet bite of dark cherry and smoked oak right out of you.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you steady as you lean back and tip the amber liquid onto your chest. A river cascades down the slope of your breast, coating your nipple as Harry captures it in his mouth. His tongue savours the taste, tracing over the sensitive bud as his dick pumps into you, a hard, relentless fucking for being such a bad girl. Your breath hitches and he chases that high by dipping his fingers into bourbon, smearing the liquid across the tips. He reaches between the two of you, tracing circles on your clit, the rapture blossoming from the luxurious heat of the whisky.

You clench around him as his teeth graze your nipple, a delicious blush of agony amongst of the ecstasy that sends you teetering over the edge, your sweet honey coating his dick. He lasts two more thrusts before he’s coming with you, his release spilling inside that pussy, marking it as his own.

“Best ten k I’ve ever spent.” He whispers into your ear, taking care not to nudge your hearing aid as his palm comes to rest on the back of your neck, keeping you close.

“Oh mon cher.” You tut, your lips brushing his temple as you study the half-drunk vessel residing on the side table beside the lamp. “We’re not done until that bottle is.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

Harry's such a sweet character

Sugar: Harry Wilson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

Summary: You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

You like the beard, Harry can tell from the way your eyes light up when you see him standing there on the porch of the little white house your Nana left you. The scent of geraniums floods his sense from the flower boxes fixed underneath your windows. This whole place is an oasis, carefully cultivated greenery neatly organised around the porch swing you sit on sometimes to read. You’d shared your first kiss on that swing before making love to him amongst the Eden that you had spent decades creating, shielded away from the prying eyes of your neighbours.

“Did you miss me Sugar?” He asks in sign language and you hold up your thumb and forefinger to indicate a little bit.

He’s been away touring colleges on the East Coast with Bex for the past couple of weeks. He’d checked in every afternoon to see what was going on with your day but seeing you standing there before him in those denim cutoffs, that white gypsy shirt clinging to your curves like it was made for you, it hits a hell of a lot different.

“I missed you.” He says using his index finger to point to his chest, his chin and then at you.

He’s surprised you this morning, it’s why you don’t have your hearing aids in. You often spend the first couple of hours of your day pottering around without them, enjoying the peace you tell him. New Orleans is a busy town and sometimes the noise can be over stimulating if you aren’t mentally prepared for it.

“You’ve been practicing.” You tell him, using your hands to form the words as you vocalise. It’s a learning technique, something to help him pick up ASL easier outside of his classes. “Your movements are a lot more fluid, less stunted.”

“I have.” He says looping his arm around your waist, drawing you close. He tilts his head down so you can read his lips as he speaks. “I practiced every night before I went to bed and dreamed of you.”

“And what did you dream?” You ask him, your nose grazing his as he walks you backwards over the threshold.

“Well Sugar.” He smiles with a devilish look in his eyes. “Let me show you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatefleet]

“We’re in a fanfic drought” Tell the writers you like their work.

“All Tumblr ever does is write oneshots now” Tell the writers that you’d love to see them write longer things.

“Nobody updates their fics anymore” Tell the writers you love the fic and want to see more of it.

Tell the writers.

[gatefleet]

writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

[gatefleet]

me flirting, “so… you wanna see my books?”

[gatefleet]

I want to write. I have time to write. I have the equipment to write. I know roughly what I want to write. AND YET.

[gatefleet]

Poor needy puppy

Down Bad Ch 5

Mainly Terry Bruno x Joe Velasco w a hint of reader warnings: language, smut alluded to, dirty talk, teasing, explicit conversations, sexuality discussed, terry being a tease. Sorry not sorry this took so long to get going. I really was on a spree there and then I worked 20 hours in the span of 2 days and had a million other things to do that zapped the creativity lol. But we're back on track now! 5.3k

It wasn’t until Monday morning rolled around that all three of you were back at work for the same hours. Joe, ever the earlier riser, had the time to hit the gym before heading into the precinct to be the first one there, taking advantage of the quiet to boot up his computer and refresh his brain on the current cases at hand. He was the one who brewed the first pot of coffee, set out a box of goodies from the bakery around the corner. You were in next, a small smile on your lips at the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the bull pen. You felt the butterflies in your stomach pick up as you dropped your bag into a drawer of your desk, your eyes on the break room where you could see Joe moving between the blinds. Heat prickled under your skin at the images suddenly running through your brain, some memories, others hopeful inspiration for what was to come. For a brief second you considered opening your laptop but then decided that caffeine was far more important and headed to the break room first.

Joe had his back to you, stirring sugar into his coffee when you approached, your hand quickly wrapping around his waist to give him a squeeze, your lips brushing at his shoulder blades.

“Morning.” You greeted, stepping to his side so you could pour yourself a mug.

“Morning.” He shot you a smile, the warmth spreading to his eyes as they roamed your body, “you have a good rest of your weekend?”

“Fantastic.” You grinned, taking the sugar from him with a soft thank you, “you weren’t too stressed on your own, were you?”

He laughed, taking a sip of his coffee, “nah. Not too much going on around here.”

“Sounds lame.” You moved closer to him, your fingers lifting the flap of the pastry box, “what’d you get for us today?”

“Daily special was lemon ricotta croissants.”

“Hmm.” You finger swiped through a line of icing, sucking it into your mouth and Joe watched every motion with rapt attention, “hope you still picked up a jelly donut for the sarge.”

“Course.” He chuckled, nodding in the direction of a small beg on Fin’s desk, “Hey!” His hand wrapped around your wrist when it reached for a second helping of icing, “no double dipping.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, the heat creeping through you as you inched closer to him, “I didn’t realize you cared about that kind of rule. Last I checked…you liked to have your cake and eat it too.”

Joe scoffed, his hand gently squeezing around your wrist as he hesitated only a second before guiding your hand back to the box, watching you scoop up a second helping of icing. Though this time he redirected your fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a soft groan and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. His eyes bored into yours while his tongue swept around your sticky fingers, sucking them clean, the corners of his mouth curving up into a grin.

“Sure hope I’m not interrupting.” The cocky tease of a greeting came from Terry’s voice as he sauntered into the breakroom, a laugh lingering in his words.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” You shot back, pulling your fingers from Joe’s mouth as his hand dropped from your wrist, his cheeks flushing.

“Sure sweetheart, keep telling yourself that.” Terry picked up the coffee pot, pouring himself a mug while you wiped your hands on a napkin. He turned to Joe, “good weekend?”

“Yeah.” Joe nodded.

“Get up to anything fun?”

“A bit.” He grinned over the rim of his coffee, “made some plans, heard some interesting stories. You?”

Terry took a gulp of his coffee, pausing for dramatic effect as he pretended to think back on his days off, “you know, I heard some interesting stuff this weekend too.”

“You don’t say.” You murmured dryly, raising a daring brow at him.

“Some podcast,” he waved you off, “talking about fantasies, how realistic they can be when you really play into the imagination aspect, ‘awaken the creative side of your brain’ and shit. Apparently it can be pretty fun.”

“Huh.” Joe managed, ducking his gaze from the other man as a heat crept up the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” He grinned, “they said it was particularly beneficial when it comes to self pleasuring, even better for your receptors than watching porn.”

“Stop bullshitting.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not.” Terry’s free hand reached out, a finger looping into a beltloop on your dress pants as his voice lowered, “you really doubt it? After all those times you’ve pretended your fingers and toys were us doing naughty things to you? You really think you could make yourself come that hard without that kind of pretending.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, a dangerous fire in them and he felt his pulse pick up, “Terry… work.”

He huffed a laugh, removing the hand from your body to pick up his coffee mug so he could take a sip, “whatever you say princess.”

The sound of a heel in the doorway pulled your attention as you took a fresh gulp of your coffee to ground yourself, Captain Benson entering the break room.

“Uh, morning.” She greeted, walking to the coffee machine while glancing between the three of you.

Terry coughed, Joe rubbed at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing even hotter as he tried to push Terry’s words and his memories from his mind. You fiddled with your mug for only a second before being the one to break first.

“Morning.” You flashed her a bright smile, “have a good weekend Cap? Noah had a recital, right?”

“Yeah.” She returned your smile, adding some sugar to her cup, “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“My niece used to drag me to all hers.” You replied with a shrug, “it’s a big deal to them. How’d it go?”

“It is.” She nodded, “and good. One high silver, two gold and one platinum.”

“Damn.” You replied, “that’s amazing. Tell him congrats for me.”

“I will.” Olivia’s gaze shifted from you to the men in the room. One who was usually so quick to throw in his own two cents or quippy comments no matter what the topic, the other who was vehemently avoiding her gaze. She laughed softly, “you guys get up to anything this weekend? I feel like I’m missing out on some hot gossip or something.”

Terry couldn’t help but let out a laugh, quickly taking a gulp of coffee to hide his outburst, “Velasco may have lost a round or two to us.”

“Huh.” Olivia glanced between the two men.

“Turns out he really sucks at pool.” You countered, a smirk on your lips, “but he left his wallet at home. Boy really owes us now.”

With a small giggle, you excused yourself from the room, sauntering back to your desk to open your laptop and get to work.

Olivia picked up a napkin, plucking a croissant from the box, “thanks for the snack Velasco.”

“Yeah Cap.” He muttered; his eyes still trained on you through the window.

“You okay?” She asked and he very quickly shook out of it, pulling his attention back to her.

“Yeah. Sorry. Why’s she so dressed up?”

“Parker? She’s testifying today.” Olivia laughed, “which is why I need the two of you,” she gestured between the two men, “to be on Hurley surveillance.”

“Oh c’mon Cap.” Bruno protested with a groan, “we haven’t even sat down yet.”

“You’ve got two hours ‘til he’s off work to catch up on paperwork, then I need you in that car.”

“Fine.” He grumbled, picking up his mug to head back to his desk.

“Yes Cap.” Velasco nodded in her direction before turning to refill his coffee, he was gonna need it if the day was going to play out like he thought it was.

*

Joe and Terry were posted outside a small apartment complex tucked away on a side road in Chinatown, the tinted car windows keeping them somewhat camouflaged from peering eyes. Hurley was a very major person of interest, teetering the line between that and suspect on a current case and they needed more before they could get the warrants they needed. So for now, it was follow him around the city until he messed up, dropped the ball or led them to exactly what they wanted.

The drive over had been fine, the usual chatter back and fourth over caseloads, how the morning in the office went, complaints about how the vending machine was stocked. Basic small talk to fill up the time it took to drive across Manhattan and find a parking spot. It was only after they were settled that tension started to build between the four walls of the vehicle. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but rather a game of cat and mouse, who was going to try to make a run for it, who was going to take the bait and dive right in and was Terry going to absolutely torment the other man?

Joe normally felt a little anxious on stakeouts, he didn’t like having to sit in one spot so still for so long, especially enclosed inside a car, it’s why he hated road trips and the main reason he’d chosen to buy a motorbike instead of a car. He liked feeling the wind whip its way around his body, even if it was cold, biting into his exposed skin, liked the freedom of being able to jump off at any minute, even if the adverse risk was what it was. He didn’t like not knowing when he would be free from this location, being so far away from home and the main work place, not sure when or where their next snack or bathroom break would be. So instead he shifted in the passenger seat, clearing his throat as he tried to focus on his breathing and lowering his heart rate as he normally did in times like these.

Only today, he was finding it harder than normal to not have that unsteady feeling in his chest and he knew it had everything to do with he man beside him. He knew Terry had to know some of what had happened and been said over the past couple of days, he had to have picked up on some of the subtext in the bedroom that first night, the only problem was that Joe had absolutely no idea just how much the other man was privy to. Part of him was stressing out that things were going to be awkward, that Terry knew too much and wasn’t going to be appreciative of it, it was suddenly strange to not have you around. He let out a low breath, cracking his window before leaning back in his seat while he trained his eyes on Hurley’s apartment door, if he focused on the task at hand, everything would be fine.

Terry on the other hand, enjoyed stakeouts. He had no issues sitting around for hours on end as long as it wasn’t the dead of winter and they were told to keep the car turned off. If he was in the office, he’d be sitting around starting at the screen, at least this way he got to see a bit of the city, get some fresh air. You weren’t constrained to the car either, as long as you had eyes where you were supposed to, he could meander up and down the block, take a few phone calls, get some steps in, stretch his legs out. Any coffee was better than precinct coffee and stakeout snacks usually came from bodegas or mom and pop shops instead of vending machines. He could chat with neighbouring diners, stores or cafes without drawing suspicion, it was like a little field trip.

He was certainly curious how today was going to go, when he pulled over in front of the apartment complex and killed the ignition he could practically feel the nerves radiating off Velasco. Now he knew for sure that Joe knew that he knew, or at least that you’d given him an idea of the situation. He figured he’d play nice at first, letting the other man relax a little bit, waiting until the tension in the car wasn’t so thick and he could actually start playing the game. For now, he’d give him a break, some time to remind himself that Terry was just Terry, there was no harm done. And that was easiest if Terry left him on his own, muttering something about ducking out for a couple of minutes before swinging open the car door.

Joe felt his shoulders release when the car door shut behind Bruno, he had no reason to be this nervous today, it was work, it was nothing new. It wasn’t like Terry was going to come back with a smirk on his face, the words ‘I know your dirty secret’ spilling from his pretty lips before he told Joe to suck his cock. Then again, the thought of something like that happening did have Joe straining in his pants. He took a long, deep breath, closing his eyes for only a moment as he blew it out to ground himself again, he had a job to do.

It wasn’t long before Terry returned, sliding back into the car with a tray of coffee and a small paper bag of goodies. He placed them down on the console while he got comfortable before plucking a cup from the tray and handing it to Joe.

“Here.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to though, I already had one at the precinct.”

Terry laughed, “we’re gonna be a while. Besides, you’re stuck with me all day.” He waited until Joe took the cup, their fingers brushing over each others ever so slightly and Terry watched as his forearm tensed at the contact and then took the time to dive right on in, “least I can do is bring you a treat, a reward for such good behaviour so far. I would hate for you to start breaking rules now.”

Joe took another deep breath, focusing on the apartment door across the street rather than what the other man was saying.

“There’s some fruit and peanut butter in there, protein bar too. I know how you hate all the processed shit.”

“Really?” Joe found himself so surprised he forgot about everything else, turning to look at him.

“Yeah.” Terry laughed, “plus then I know you won’t be stealin’ my fries. I actually get to eat my food when I’m on stakeouts with you.”

“At least you don’t have to deal with Parker whining the entire time that she’s hungry and there’s nothing edible in the car.”

“True.” He laughed again, reaching into the bag to pull out his fries, “aw shit. They forgot my ketchup.” Terry bunched up the top of the bag, leaving the fries in the extra cupholder, “pretty sure I’ve got some stashed in the glove box.”

Before Joe even had the chance to think about leaning forward to check, Terry was leaning across the console, yanking the glove box open to dig around inside. He huffed, his hand reaching deeper into it and all of a sudden his free hand was bracing against Joe’s knee. Joe barely had time to process it, between the contact and the waft of his cologne invigorating his senses, it was over so quick he was nearly certain he’d imagined it.

“Always gotta keep some on hand.” The glove box was already shut as he nodded towards it, “extra straws and napkins in there too if you need ‘em.”

“Thanks.” Joe gulped, ducking his gaze out the window once again as he distracted himself with his coffee.

No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, he couldn’t help but feel the warmth where Terry’s hand had been, the tingles spreading through his body originating in that spot. He found himself lost in thought of all the times the other man had touched him, most seemed platonic, a shoulder squeeze there, a pat to the chest as a ‘good job.’ They’d hugged before, that was nothing new, but it was incredibly apparent to him now just how badly he wanted Terry’s hands all over him, roaming every inch of his completely naked skin.

The aroma of salt and deep fried began to drift through the car, pulled towards Joe by the open window beside him and despite not really having a liking for the stuff, it was starting to make him realize that breakfast had been hours ago. His hand reached for the café bag, feeling around until he pulled out the power bar and ripped it open.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Bruno shot him a playful grin, “gonna need you fueled up in tip top shape after all.”

“Huh?” He fumbled the bar, looking up just in time to catch the mischievous look in Terry’s eye.

“Perp shows up I’m not gonna be the one chasing him down the block.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, taking a bite of the bar, “right.”

Terry chuckled as Joe focused his gaze on the apartment door once again and the car fell silent.

Considering he was in his line of vision; Terry was finding it somewhat difficult to keep Joe out of his mind. Not that that was usually an issue, but when you’re trapped in a car for hours on end with your co-worker and you can’t stop picturing them on their knees, it tends to become a predicament. He was already more than well aware the kinds of noises Joe made and now all he wanted was to be the one making him make said noises, to be the one making him come undone while you were the one watching from the corner. It had taken him more than a few hours to get the images you’d placed in his head out of his mind (three rounds with his hand hadn’t even been enough). He was trying to think of a way to shift the conversation to a place that would be most beneficial to him when movement on the street caught his eye and he discovered the perfect segway.

“Huh…” His head tilted, eyes narrowing just the slightest as he took the man in, watching him cross the street.

Beside him, Joe shifted, looking out the window in the same direction, “is that our guy?”

“Nah.” Terry pulled his gaze away, picking up another French fry, “thought I knew him.”

“Cop?”

“Looks like a guy I used to hook up with.” He stated plainly.

“Oh…” Joe felt his cheeks flush and he took another swig of coffee, struggling to find somewhere to look. He didn’t want to be caught staring at Terry but he couldn’t resist it, glancing his way out of the corner of his eye. There was no sense of shyness or embarrassment from the other man, he wasn’t trying to hide what he’d just said, maybe now was Joe’s time to jump in and see what was what. His eyes flicked out the windshield, following the guy up the street.

Terry laughed suddenly, nudging Joe with his elbow, “you don’t have to act all oblivious, you did catch me flirting with that guy the other night.”

“You end up calling him?” He asked after clearing his throat and Terry smiled.

“Nah. No need.”

Joe shifted in his seat, “hm.”

The guy on the street was stopped in front of a fruit vendor, giving the two of them ample ogling opportunity. He was blonde, tall, built enough you could see his shoulder muscles through the perfectly tailored suit. Well dressed and incredibly maintained, beard trimmed perfectly to accent his facial structure with a stunning smile he flashed the girl working the cart. Joe was certain he had a set of washboard abs hiding underneath that dress shirt and probably spent more on hair products in a month than Joe spent on food. He let out a grumble of a huff, sinking back into his seat.

“He your type?”

Terry glanced up to the guy, eyes narrowing as he examined him, “hmm. Kind of, but not really. Besides, I feel like what people think their type is versus who they actually end up with isn’t always the same. You’ve got your celebrity crushes, preferred porn stars, people you think are attractive, they all generally fall into one type but it’s so much more than that.”

“Makes sense.” He nodded.

“For me it’s more about the personality and connection when it comes down to it. Yeah, David was stereotypically hot, built, nothing too crazy. But let me tell you, he took it like a fucking champ.” Reaching out to pick up his coffee he looked over at Joe, his lips flicking up into a grin at the pink tinge on the other man’s cheeks. “Always so eager to please. Loved sucking dick. It was hot as hell; he’d get so needy he’d be fucking begging for it. Just like someone else we know…” He raised a brow in Joe’s direction who immediately needed to distract himself, taking a gulp of coffee that he winced at as it burned its way down his throat.

His mind spiraled, trying to figure out if Terry was talking about you or if he was alluding to the idea of Joe begging him to fuck him. Because he was about one day away from that becoming an actual reality. Rather than start down that road when they were still on the clock Joe redirected, eager to learn more about Terry and his tendencies in the bedroom when it came to other men.

“You’d always be the one to fuck him?”

“Yeah.” Terry nodded, “it was pretty casual. We met randomly at a bar, didn’t know much about each other, not even last names. It’s gotta be more personal if I’m gonna bottom. There’s a lot of trust and respect that goes into it but once you know you’re in a safe space it’s fucking phenomenal.”

The older man clocked the way Joe stiffened in his seat, his fingers clenching into the Styrofoam coffee cup a little too hard, causing the lid to pop off on one side. He held back a chuckle, not wanting to distract from the task at hand. He had Joe right where he wanted him and he wasn’t about to stop right now. He was open, communicative, inquisitive, eager to learn more and Terry was in the perfect mood to play teacher.

“How do you even figure something like that out?” He asked, risking a glance over at him.

This time Terry did chuckle, shrugging a shoulder, “curiosity. Self exploration. Fingers, toys. Other people’s fingers…” he trailed off and let out a puff of air, “you know, Parker’s really got a talent for it.”

“Oh?” Joe’s eyes widened, a burst of eagerness flashing through them that brought a heat into Terry’s chest, his own eyes darkening.

“I mean, she should. I taught her well. She knows exactly what she’s doing and it feels so fucking good.” He shook his head, “she’s gotten a little cocky about it and honestly, it’s deserved at this point.”

“Damn.” Joe let out a low whistle, struggling to clear his throat as he pushed the thought of you and Terry taking turns fingering him.

Bruno took a swig of coffee, “you ever tried it?”

“What?” Joe’s head shot up again, eyes wide.

“Anal.”

“Oh. Uh, no. No! I mean…” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing at his jaw with his free hand, “been wondering about it, like you said… curiosity.” He risked a glance back up, blushing when he caught Terry’s gaze on him and he cleared his throat, starting to backtrack a little bit. “Like… how does it compare to pussy? Do girls even actually like it or is it just something they do to please their boyfriends?”

“You wanna try it out, bring it up with our little princess. She’ll be so excited she’ll look like a kid on Christmas morning, that’s how much she likes taking it up the ass. Some of ‘em like it, trust me.” He took another sip of coffee, “she’s also great at giving. Girl’s wild, made me come without even touching my cock when she pegged me.”

“Shit..” Joe muttered over the rim of his cup, shifting uncomfortably in his seat thanks to his cock throbbing in his pants.

The other man felt the tension in the car building up again and he knew it was so incredibly close to snapping, that Joe would be pleading for a night with the three of you as soon as humanly possible. He just had to keep momentum going a little bit more, so he decided to see just how far he could push it when Joe asked:

“And David…he liked it that much?”

“Pretty boy…” Terry turned to him with a wicked grin, “he could not get enough of my cock.”

Joe’s tongue involuntarily darted out to wet his lips and Terry knew his time to shine had come, his voice low and captivating when he spoke.

“I mean, we’d always start off a little slow. Warming him up. Stretching him out. Always gotta make sure they’re ready for me.”

“Mmhm.” Joe nodded like he knew exactly what Terry was talking about, thinking about how thick his cock was and just how much it would stretch him out and he couldn’t help but gulp.

“Get him nice and slicked with lube, can never be too wet y’know. By the time I had him taking three of my fingers he’d be a fucking mess. Whining, whimpering, grinding his dick into the bed while he pushed back against my fingers, just pleading me to hurry up and fuck him.”

“Tease.” The whisper slipped from Joe’s lips without him even noticing and Terry couldn’t help but smirk at it.

“I wouldn’t be that mean. I mean, the guy would nearly be in tears if I didn’t let him have it soon.” He licked his lips, shifting in his seat so he could really focus his attention on Velasco. “Coat my cock in lube, rub the tip against him slowly, back and forth. Just nudging the head in, god the noises he made would make me just fuckin throb.”

Joe felt his cock pulse again, now more than half hard in his pants, straining against every cell in his body that this was not the time.

“Gotta start slow, making sure he can take it. Fucking deep into him inch. By. Inch. Until he’d be pushing back so hard, writhing on my cock taking it like a good boy. Shit.” Terry laughed, shaking his head and he glanced out the windshield, his eyes darting around the street.

Joe took the opportunity to palm at himself through his pants, grinding his hand down against his dick in a feeble attempt to ward off his erection. Even with Terry distracted he was certain he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

Rather than acknowledge it, Terry took another swig of coffee, muttering to himself, “fuck… maybe I should call him.”

“Or not.” This time Joe noticed what he had said when it slipped out, his eyes widening as he registered the neediness in his voice that he wasn’t even sure he’d heard himself before.

Terry chuckled, dark eyes looking across the car at him, “oh yeah? You got a better idea pretty boy? Is that the kind of pretend you played with our princess? Or the kind you want to play? Have me guide her—”

He was suddenly cut off by several series of pings from his phone and he rolled his eyes while he picked up the device. Joe felt himself let out a huge breath, his eyes closing for a second as the other man’s words sunk in, words that he would undoubtedly be saving for later when he got home, cooking up his own fantasies to act out at a future date.

“Speak of the fucking devil.” Terry muttered.

“Huh?”

“Parker.” He shook his phone, “she’s done at the courthouse, over at Maman and wants to know if we want anything for dinner.”

“They’ve got those baguette sandwiches, right?”

“Yeah.” Terry handed Joe his phone so he could text you the order before quickly typing out his own and sending the message off.

The interruption had burst the tension in the car, diverting the boys from their previous conversation even though sparks were still dancing around underneath their skin. Terry knew he’d gotten Joe locked in and he couldn’t wait to see where this would go the next time all three of you ended up out for a drink.

You popped by faster than they’d expected, rapping on Terry’s window causing Joe to jump, his face whirling around to the sudden noise.

“Hey!” You greeted with a bright smile as you handed a tray of drinks and bag of food through the window before leaning against the sill. “Any luck?”

“Nah.” Terry replied, passing the items over to Joe, “how was court?”

“Fine.” You shrugged, “defence got a few jabs in but I can take it.”

“There’s not a lot you can’t take darlin’.” He winked and you scoffed, looking past him to Jose.

“Has he been like this all day?”

“What?” The younger man asked, his voice nearly strained, a flush to his cheeks and you cocked a brow.

“Like a cocky asshole full of innuendos.” You stated dryly before looking back to Terry, “you need to get your dick sucked again already? Christ you’re insatiable.”

“Says you.” He fired back.

“Whatever.” You swatted at his cheek, “you’re welcome for dinner. If you get off earlier than expected and want a drink, call me.”

“What if I’d rather get off with you?” He grinned and you pushed away from the car.

“Terrance!” You shot him a glare as you scolded him, exchanging it for a soft smile as you waved to Joe, “night pretty boy. Don’t let him be too mean to you.”

It wasn’t much longer after you’d made your appearance that both of their phones pinged with a matching text from Benson. They had uni’s coming to replace them and were relieved for the night, they could head back home whenever they pleased. Knowing Joe had taken the subway to work that morning, Terry offered to drop him off at his apartment, navigating the streets easily.

“Thanks for the ride.” Joe shot him a smile as he unbuckled his seat belt.

“No problem. Can you take this in, I don’t want to stink up the car and have Sarge pissed.” He handed the other man the paper bag of food from the bodega, a few fries and crumpled up garbage inside it.

“Yeah, course.”

“Have a good night Joe.”

“You too.” Making sure he had everything, Velasco ducked out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

“And pretty boy…” Terry called through the window, pulling Joe back towards the car as he gulped at the look on the other man’s face. “You get any other ideas in that head of yours… don’t be afraid to share. I like the sound of you touching yourself to those thoughts.”

Before Joe could even think of something to say in return, Terry pulled away from the curb and was disappearing down the street. Joe let out a heavy sigh, his cock already twitching in his pants again, he knew he’d be having a rather lengthy shower as soon as he got upstairs.

He paused on the way to the back door, digging the recyclable bits out of the bodega bag to sort them properly, tossing a few bites of uneaten sandwiches into the compost. It was only when he reached the bottom of the original bag that he noticed something.

They hadn’t forgotten Terry’s ketchup that morning. In fact, there were more than enough packets tossed in the bottom of the bag.

___________

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