#Frankie’s fic got me thinking

[capitalisticveins]

i desperately need a Freelancer and Gavin Solstice audio omg

[heartsburst]

man sometimes uni au fics are. so obviously written by 14 year olds.

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

[strang3lov3]

The Real Deal

Frankie uses his tongue to demonstrate why he’s less than impressed with your rose toy. (3.7k)

Tags - 18+ smut, oral sex (f receiving) , sex toys, kissing, nipple stimulation, me popping my Frankie cherry so forgive me for being a little shaky on this. I wrote him to be a little smug and cocky pussy eating expert, but i think he's quite nice also. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your editing, your Frankie guidance, and your endless encouragement, and also @beefrobeefcal I wasn’t supposed to ask you for help on the fic I wrote for you but I did anyway and you were gracious as always. I love you. A/N - as mentioned above, this is my first time writing Frankie so please give me some grace. And it's also rather indulgent despite it being a late birthday gift for @beefrobeefcal, I love you forever and I hope I do Frankie justice for you my beautiful, sweet, generous, thoughtful, caring, intelligent, and wonderful friend. I'm lucky to have you 🩷

The smell of your bedroom comforts you as you take your bra off and hang it on the doorknob. There’s nothing more satisfying than that at the end of a long day. You also remove your pants and panties, swapping them out for a comfortable pair of pajama shorts. You’ve just gotten off of work, it’s Friday night, and you have a date with your phone. 

You lay in your unmade bed in a spot that’s already warmed for you, probably by your cat, Dr. Waffles. You must have spooked him when you entered your apartment. The first app you open is UberEats, and you know exactly what you want: a tuna poke bowl from Cactus Club. You’re about to pay when the app alerts you that your wait time will be about an hour and a half. Fuck. You buy it anyway and open Tumblr, because you know exactly how you’ll kill time. 

You got an alert earlier that one of your favorite writers updated her series Devotion, a story about Joel from The Last of Us where Joel acts as a cult leader. It’s such a hot and thrilling story. You also saw that the writer of the series put in her author’s note that this chapter gets smutty, that Joel will go down on the main character. It’s addled your brain all day, the thought of getting it on with Cult Leader Joel.

You read through the story and as things between the characters begin to get heated, so do you. The writer describes the way Joel eats pussy with such detail that you can almost feel it, can almost hear the noises he makes and the way he dirty talks. You’ve been absentmindedly playing with your clit, feeling your arousal grow as you read on, but you decide to switch masturbation methods as you have just the tool for the occasion - your trusty rose toy. One of your best friends, Kiki, gifted it to you last year after she caught you reading smut on your phone. She said the sex toy shop was having a buy one, get one free deal and she knew just the friend to share the sweet deal with. 

The toy seemed gimmicky when you went home and opened it, what with that almost cartoonish-looking tongue right in the center of the petals. And it smelled strongly of isopropyl alcohol. But for shits and giggles, you washed it and charged it anyway and that night with the silicone rose between your thighs, your life was changed. That little tongue worked magic on your clit and had you coming more times than you could count, endless orgasms that had you seeing stars. 

With your phone in your left hand, you can’t peel your eyes away from the screen as you reach for the drawer of your nightstand. With your hand on the knob, you pull the drawer  but it doesn’t open. Odd. You tug the drawer again, and then again, and then you’re turning on your side to really yank that goddamn drawer. Each time you pull, you rock the nightstand against the wall, no doubt denting it but you don’t give a shit. Waffles made sure you’re not getting your security deposit back anyway, that much is evident in the shredded carpets and scratched up door frames.

A pounding at your door has you stopping what you’re doing. “I know, I’m coming,” you say, more to yourself than whoever’s slamming on your door at the ungodly hour of 7pm. You open the door to one annoyed Frankie Morales glaring at you with his arms crossed. 

Frankie’s your criminally handsome next door neighbor who lives in the apartment to the left of you. All it took from him was one look at his sparkly, chocolatey brown eyes, his aquiline nose, and those curls peeking out from under his baseball cap and you knew you were in trouble. 

 You moved into the complex shortly after he did a couple of years ago, and Frankie took pity on you when he saw your brother leave halfway through the job. Frankie, already sore from moving all of his furniture just two days prior, decided to help you move in the rest of your stuff. The next day after grocery shopping, you made him a lasagna and a pan of brownies to thank him for his generosity, and thus began a system of sorts. Frankie enjoyed your food thoroughly, and you enjoyed having someone to share meals with, especially since you never could get the hang of cooking for just one. So you’d make dinner and share it with him a couple of nights every week, and in turn Frankie would take care of the maintenance in your apartment so your landlord wouldn’t find out about Waffles, the cat you’re not supposed to have. Frankie quickly became one of your best friends.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Yes, you can help by telling me what your reason is for beating the shit out of that wall we share,” he says. “What are you even doing?”

“Sorry, the drawer to my nightstand was stuck and I was trying to open it,” you stated. 

“Did you get it?”

“Did I get what?”

“Did you get the door open,” he clarifies. 

“No,” you answer. 

“So if I leave, are you gonna keep banging on the wall?” Frankie asks. You shrug. “That’s a yes,” he says. “Would you like me to help you open it?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Need to sleep, I got an early morning.” 

You open the door wider to let Frankie inside. Waffles makes his appearance at that moment and meows at Frankie. “Yeah, yeah,” he says to the cat. “Hello to you too, pancake.”

“Waffles,” you correct. “That’s such a dumb joke.”

Frankie snickers, “Funny to me,” he smirks. 

You lead him to your bedroom and point at the nightstand. “That one,” you tell him. It’s an old nightstand, and it might’ve been nice at one point, but it was handed down to you by your brother who no doubt absolutely wrecked the poor piece of furniture. It’s a little crooked now, and the drawer’s tracks are bent so it never opens and closes nicely. 

Frankie tries opening the drawer but struggles just as you did. You don’t mind though, because from where you’re standing, you’ve got a perfect view of his ass that’s definitely filled out some since you began feeding the man. “You weren’t lying. Damn thing really is fucking stuck, huh?” Frankie grunts as he tries wriggling it open again, “What’s even in here that you need so urgently anyway?”

Oh, fuck. You didn’t even think about that, that he’d be seeing your rose toy and only your rose toy in that drawer. “Umm,” you think, “My phone charger.” Which is a dumb lie, because right next to Frankie is the outlet your charger is plugged into. Quietly, you pull it out and toss it under your bed so he doesn’t see. 

“It’s really jammed,” Frankie says. “Fuck.”

“I know, just be careful, please,” you tell him. “You don’t need to open it all the way. Actually, you don’t even have to open it at all, if it’s too much.”

That was the wrong thing to say to deter Frankie from opening your drawer. He’s got quite the competitive streak in him, so your comment only fuels him to pull the drawer harder. He pulls the nightstand away from the wall and gives it one good and strong tug and the drawer flies open, and with it your rose toy, right into Frankie. He catches it with ease, and you could die right then and there. 

“I know what this is,” Frankie murmurs quietly, turning around to face you. “So that’s your treasure chest, huh?”

With your face and your neck on fire, you try to swipe the toy out of Frankie’s hand but he pulls it out of reach. “Frankie, give it,” you snap. 

“No, no,” he smiles. “I gotta see this thing.”

Frankie swats you away as you try to take the toy back from him. He uses one hand and fumbles with it until it whizzes to life, the tongue flicking up and down in his hand. “Oh, wow,” he says. “Quite the motor in this baby.” Frankie holds the toy away from you as you try and try to grab it from him, but his grip is too strong. Finally, you give up and let him entertain himself with the thing. It’ll be an uncomfortable five minutes, but it’ll be over eventually. He’ll lose interest, just like a toddler.

You sit on the bed and Frankie sits next to you as he messes with the toy. He hums as he holds the flicking tongue against the palm of his hand. “This can’t be fun,” he comments. “But if it works for you, who am I to judge?”

“It is fun,” you defend. “It…yeah. It’s fun.” 

“But it’s so cold. And stiff,” Frankie argues. “No finesse, either.”

His comment has you intrigued, “Frankie, what do you mean, ‘no finesse’?”

“Well, look here,” Frankie shows you the toy, “Look at the tongue. It just goes up and down. It’s mechanical, you know? There’s no fluidity,” he explains. “And it sounds like those tools they use on you at the dentist’s office.” 

“Oh.”

“But, you know. If you’re happy with it, then more power to ya, I guess.” You nod as you take in the words Frankie speaks, staring at that whirring toy in his big hands your mind starts to wander. “Are you happy with it?” he asks.

“Yeah, I guess,” you reply. “It’s fine.”

“Fine, huh? How’s it compare?” 

“Compare to what?”

“You know,” Frankie says. “The real deal.” 

“Well, I don’t really receive ‘the real deal’,” you admit quietly. “So…”

“Ohhh. I get it. No frame of reference, then,” Frankie replies. A beat passes as he shuts off the toy. “Would you like the real deal?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, who wouldn’t. But–”

Frankie interrupts, “No, I’m askin’ you. Right now, would you like the real deal? Feel what it’s supposed to feel like from a real man?” 

You understand what Frankie’s asking now. Your mouth drops open and you feel that exciting sort of lurch in your stomach.

“Feel a real man, with real lips, a real tongue. Real hands. We’ll broaden your horizons. What do you say?”

It almost doesn’t feel real. You laugh, uncomfortably, but Frankie looks at you with all seriousness. You can’t believe you’re gonna say yes. Of course you’re gonna say yes. Looking at Frankie, you nod quickly.  

“Words, baby,” he says. “How about a yes?”

It’s the way he calls you baby, with no hesitation. “Yes. Yes, definitely. I need that.”

“Need, huh? Poor thing,” Frankie places the toy on your nightstand and moves up your bed, inviting you to join him. He notices your shaky legs as you crawl to meet him, your movements unsure. “Relax,” he whispers, smiling at you. “Relax.” You nod and your nerves ignite as Frankie touches you, his big hand holding your face. “I’m just gonna kiss you. That’s all for now.”

“Okay.”

And then he does. He kisses you gently at first, taking mental notes of how you react. You’re rigid at first, but he just kisses you. Nothing more, nothing less. When he feels your muscles relax and you let go a little bit, let yourself fall back and relax into your bed, Frankie takes initiative and kisses you deeper. He smiles when you moan quietly into his mouth, then kisses down your jaw and your neck. “Your toy can’t kiss you like I can, huh?”

“No, Frankie,” you sigh. 

“So that’s another point Frankie, then,” he mumbles against your skin. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t enjoying yourself so much. “May I lift your shirt?”

“Mhm,” you nod, loving the way he asks permission. Frankie pushes the fabric up your chest and he wears a smirk on his face, and he’s got a certain sparkle to his dark eyes as he takes in your body, all of your soft, creamy flesh, your pebbled nipples. “And actually,” he says, reaching for your rose toy and turning it back on. “Since we’re comparing - experimenting, really, we should test both variables. Scientific method and all that.” 

“This doesn’t feel very scientific,” you tell him, giggling as you speak. 

“Sure it is, I’m a professional at this. Been studying for years. Watch - Do you prefer…” Frankie begins, he brings the toy to one of your nipples and lets the tongue flick back and forth over it. “One…” he whispers, though you can hardly hear him over your own gasps and moans. “Or two?” he licks the nipple not being teased by your toy, first swirling his tongue in circles around your areola and then gently sucks the sensitive skin. Your noises are music to his ears as your moans become louder. 

“Two,” you answer, “Two.” 

“You know why that is?” he asks, moving to lick and tease your other nipple. “Because your toy can’t go in circles, can’t suck. Can’t really tease you , either. Can’t do most of the things you’re supposed to do to a pair of tits as pretty as yours, sweetheart.” Frankie watches your reaction to his words, smirking as your cheeks heat up and you turn your face from him. “It’s true. You’re beautiful.” 

After a few more moments of Frankie kissing and licking your nipples, he presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your torso, over your tummy. “Would you lift those hips for me, sweetheart?”

You lift your hips like he asks and Frankie hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs. His hand brushes over a damp spot of the fabric, and he rubs his thumb over it, admiring. “Good god, you made a mess. This all for me? Just from a little kissing?”

You nod bashfully, unsure of what to say to him. Frankie doesn’t mind, he knows that this is the part where a woman is likely to feel a little shy, vulnerable. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s working with here with you, whether you’ve received head before or not. Maybe you have, but it’s been a long time. Or maybe it was bad. He thinks about your answer to one of his questions, how you told him you’re not really receiving ‘the real deal’ and he doesn’t need to know why, he just needs to change that and eat you like his life depends on it.

Eating pussy is Frankie’s passion. Nothing compares to it, being buried in that soft, warm, wet space between a woman’s thighs. Simultaneously, it makes him feel both submissive and powerful. He loves the way some become shy when he eats them, he loves the way others shove his face between their legs. He loves the feeling of having his hair pulled as he licks, when thighs squeeze his head and he has to ease them back open. He loves the way her whole body quivers when she comes, he loves the taste, the smell, the feel and the intimacy of it all. 

Frankie places both hands on your knees and spreads your legs wide so he has space for himself between them. He begins by kissing your inner thighs, the wiry hairs of his patchy, graying beard and his mustache tickle you. “We’re gonna compare again. Are you ready, beautiful?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m ready.” 

Frankie brings the rose to your core and allows it to do its thing. He chuckles as you reach for his hand and adjust the way he holds the toy against your pussy to your needs. “Gotta hold it like that, huh?”

“Yeah, like that.” 

“Duly noted.” 

Frankie rests the side of his head against one of your thighs and watches you as the toy works its magic. You’re moaning nicely, but he’ll make you moan louder. He loves the way your brows knit together, he loves the steady rise and fall of your chest with your panting breaths. 

It feels so foreign, having Frankie hold the toy instead of your own hands. It still feels good, though. You rock your hips into it, chasing your quickly building orgasm. 

And then Frankie shuts it off. “Frankie,” you whine. “You–”

“I know, I know. You were having so much fun. But I’ve got a fucking bone to pick.” 

“What?” 

“Your toy’s blocking the view. I don’t wanna see that, I wanna see you.” 

Frankie tosses the toy to the side of the bed and once more spreads your legs wide. He admires your pussy, the glistening wetness dripping from your hole, the ribbons of creamy arousal on your folds. And your bush, he loves the dampened curls framing your beautiful cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he praises. “You gonna let me show you what you’ve been missing?”      

“Please, Frankie,” you beg. “I want that.”  

“You’re so sweet t’me,” he whispers. Frankie situates himself, adjusts your hips into position. He licks one long stripe up your seam, slowly and with a flat tongue, from the bottom all the way to the top. 

“Frankie,” you moan. “Oh, fuck.”           

“Oh, I know,” Frankie coos. “That felt good, didn’t it? That piece of plastic can’t lick you like that, can it?” 

“No,” you agree. “Again, Frankie, please.”

“It’d be my pleasure, sweetheart.” 

He licks another long stripe up you, then down. He focuses on just tasting you, getting you used to the feeling of his tongue in your folds. “Your toy doesn’t go in circles down here either, that's what the tongue is supposed to do.” Frankie demonstrates this by drawing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, first clockwise, then counter clockwise. Interestingly, your loudening moans indicate you prefer counter clockwise. Frankie takes note of this, files it away in his head. 

“And it doesn’t suck your clit,” he adds, “Like this –” he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it between them, causing your legs to clamp around his head, just like he loves. And though he loves it, that uncontrollable, mindless reflex, he whispers to you, “Nuh-uh, sweetheart. You spread those legs nice and wide. That’s it, good girl.” 

It’s such an intense feeling, your clit between his lips and the pressure of his mouth sucking. He switches back to gentle but consistent licks on the sensitive part of you. “And you can correct me if I’m wrong, but you can’t really finger yourself while usin’ your toy, can you?” 

“Haven’t - haven’t tried, I don’t think - fuck, Frankie - I don’t –”

“Mm. I understand.”

Frankie pulls away from you and dips two fingers into your cunt, pumping them in and out for a moment before he curls them rhythmically inside you. He finds that special, sensitive spot that intensifies all of it and moves his mouth to your clit yet again. 

He eats you ravenously, losing himself in your pussy yet manages to maintain focus on you. He feels you coming close, that slow build of your orgasm quickening in time, and he wants to drag it out. “The other thing –” he begins, “About your little toy. It takes all the hard work away, makes it less satisfying for us both, don’t you think?” he says in between pleasuring you with his tongue and his fingers. “Takes all the fun away.”

Frankie reaches for your clit with his free hand and pulls your hood back. He flicks his tongue over you and you respond to the intensified feeling by reaching for his head, tugging his soft curls between your fingers. “Frankie, oh my god. Frankie,” you cry. 

“Listen to yourself,” he says. “You moan so pretty when I’m tasting you, don’t you think?”

It’s unclear whether Frankie expects you to answer his question or not, but you do in your own way, with his name falling from your lips in broken syllables. Your orgasm builds slowly, more intensely, in a more gratifying way than you’ve ever felt. You don’t just feel it in your core, between your thighs, but you feel it in your tummy and the bottom of your spine, the backs of your thighs and all down your legs. You come with a melody of curses and praises as pleasure washes over you in seemingly never ending waves, Frankie using his tongue to fuck you through it until the very end, when you’re shuddering and your body is twitching.

You’ve never seen such a cocky, satisfied smile before. When you open your eyes, Frankie’s smirking between your thighs, absolutely pleased with himself as he sucks his fingers clean. “So what’s the verdict?”

You smile and roll your eyes. “You know what the verdict is.”

“Mhm. I do, but I gotta hear you say it anyway.”

“It’s you,” you mumble, a grin on your lips. “You win.”

Frankie beams proudly, and the moment passes quickly. It ends with a knock on your door as your UberEats is delivered. “Who’s that?” Frankie asks. 

“Dinner,” you answer. You sit up in bed and find your pajama shorts, put them on and leave your bedroom to get your food. Frankie follows you as you open your front door and bend over to get your order. You put the bag in your fridge. 

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“I need to return the favor,” you tell him. “It’s your turn.”

“I’m flattered, but what you need to do is eat, my darling. Enjoy your meal. I enjoyed mine.” You roll your eyes at the way Frankie winks at you. “We can worry about returning the favor later,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, your taste and smell lingers on his skin and in his mustache. You hum in surprise. “You taste that? Tastes good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“Tastes good to me too. Nice reminder of what we were just doing, hm? You looked so pretty underneath me.” Frankie kisses you again, “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, and with that, he leaves. 

If you enjoyed, please tell me so 🩷 reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write

THIS IS WAFFLES! @beefrobeefcal’s cat!! One of them at least. I love this guy. Mr President. He’s the mayor

[baronessvonglitter]

Halftime Show

Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x f!sexworker!reader (lucky girl)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader's work name is "Angel", reader is a sex worker, mildly dubious consent (though she does state that the men can do as they want, it's her first experience in sex work), rough sex (but no violence done to reader), group sex, threesome to sixsome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, double p in v, anal sex & fingering, multiple penetration, hand jobs, face fucking, facial, verbal abuse/humiliation, squirting, swallowing, creampie, spitroasting, reader gets slapped w/a dick for a bit, porn without plot, you know.. all the sweet stuff.

Author's Note: another cross-post from AO3 but honestly, football is barely mentioned so if you want you can ignore the whole Super Bowl aspect. Y'all might know by now I love a little romance in my smut but this particular fic has zero romance. Reader is there to do a job and leaves having done it very well. Also.. I'm considering creating a part 2 featuring more Pedro Boys, so any input on that is welcome!

FULL MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST

It's your first day as an escort and you're a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. You never know what you're going to expect from clients, but these guys you're about to meet have been pre-screened and even had to turn in blood tests just to be considered as clients. The escort service you work for is very prestigious. You're even driven to the location by a security detail who is tasked to wait outside for you. This makes you feel a little better.

You take a quick look at your outfit before you leave the car. The rule is you show up in character and leave in character. No real names, no background stories, just a persona and an exchange of goods. Simple as that. Should be easy enough.

Taking a deep breath, you exit the car and go up to the front door.

The doorbell rings, and Dave York springs from the sofa, a little smirk on his lips. "Guys, I think she's here," he announces, and the rest of the group look up from the Super Bowl game, groaning when Dave mutes the sound even though it's just gone to commercial.

"Who?" Frankie Morales asks, swigging a beer.

"The halftime entertainment," Dave answers mysteriously.

Marcus Moreno and Joel Miller trade inquisitive glances. Javier Peña raises his brow. He knows what Dave means.

Dave brings you into the living room and you take a quick survey of your surroundings: the home is nicer than most, two stories, decorated tastefully but with an obvious woman's touch. You give him a once-over. He's forty-ish, handsome, clean-shaven.

"The wife got the house in the divorce," Dave tells you, as if reading your mind. "This is my last weekend here, so let's make it count!" He raises his glass of whiskey to the guys, most of whom also salute with their drinks. They are all eyeing you like a pack of dogs that haven't eaten in days.

Marcus, a kind-looking man with dark eyeglasses who gives you Clark Kent vibes, smiles awkwardly at you, blushing. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Dave politely.

"Angel," you give your working name, smiling at each of the men. They're all cute: some scruffy, some dapper.

Dave smirks. "I'm Dave, and these are my buddies Marcus, Frankie, Joel, and Javier." Each of the guys smiles or nods at you as they're introduced.

"I heard you guys are looking to get wild," you say, opening your winter coat to reveal your see-through lingerie. Joel, Javier, and Dave whoop in excitement. Marcus and Frankie are more reticent but can't take their eyes off you. "What do you plan on doing with little ol' me?" you ask innocently, kneeling on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the living room. You glide your hands over your body and smile as the men shift in their seats, watching you, getting hard already at the idea of you offering yourself.

Dave is the first to put his hands on you, first on your hips then grabbing your ass. Joel, an older man with graying hair and green flannel shirt, interrupts him, rising from his seat. "Now, who told you you get to go first?" he asks in a deep voiced Texan accent.

"First? We're running a train on this girl?" Javier asks from his seat, a cigarette burning between his lips. He's dressed like someone from the 1970s but his clothes fit him well, accentuating a lean physique.

"You can do whatever you want with me," you tell them with confidence. "But of course, no hitting, no biting, no leaving marks." You are resolute on this, as is your employer.

"Hell, darlin', we're not monsters," Joel says, his eyes full of concern for you. The others chime in that they aren't into really rough stuff. Only Dave looks a little disappointed by your rule.

"I'd expect you to be more methodical about this," Javier tells Dave, rising from his seat and casting an amused glance at his friend. He eyes you up and down then reaches into your bra to cup your breast while his other hand dives between your thighs. "Christ, she's already wet. And so fucking tight. You haven't been doing this kind of work long, have you, baby?"

"You all are my first clients," you admit, your breath hitching as his thick fingers tease you.

Javier manages a small smile then looks over at the group. "You haven't thought about these guys," he tells Dave, and nods at Frankie and Marcus. "They're completely baffled by this."

"We're not, I know exactly what's going on," insists Frankie, an adorable middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants and baseball cap. His innocence is palpable and quite touching.

Dave and Javier's hands are still on you, grabbing and groping. It's a good start. "I'm paying for her. I should get to go first," Dave complains.

A few of the guys (well, okay, Javier and Dave) start to bicker about it, fueled by testosterone and alcohol. Joel strides up to you, effectively taking you away from Dave and Javier. "It's kind of a shame that no one's puttin' her feelings into consideration. She's gonna be providin' a huge service for us. Least we can do is give her a little pleasure beforehand." With that, he takes you and places you on the ottoman, kneeling between your open thighs. He rips open the crotch of your lingerie and dives in, sucking on your pussy. Your initial shock gives way to thrill as you register the warm, wet stiffness of his tongue rasping your folds, your clit, not taking his time about it. Your fingers curl into his hair as you lift your thighs back. You're still on the clock, still giving a show, even if this part is currently for your benefit. With Joel's aid you manage to take the now-ruined lingerie off and are naked but for your knee-high stockings.

"Way to get the party started," Javier says approvingly. "I'm not about to waste any time." He goes to you and sits you up. You take a moment to admire the bulge in those tight trousers before he pulls them down enough to take out his thick shaft. You obediently open your mouth to accept it and he slowly moves into your throat, allowing you to get used to him. Saliva pools in your mouth as you start to moan around his dick, still exhilarated by Joel's ravishing you with his tongue. You feel a hand massaging your breast and look over to see Frankie, his puppy dog eyes wide with wonder, as if he can't believe you're real.

"That feels so good," you tell him, sensing he likes praise. He lights up, encouraged by you, and continues to pinch and pull at your nipple before sucking on it, extracting a pleasured moan from your lips before you go back to sucking off Javier.

Marcus and Dave stand back. Marcus looks flustered and Dave has his hands on his hips, making a face. He's figuring out where to squeeze in but at the same time doesn't want to share.

Meanwhile you're keeping busy with Javier's cock in your mouth, Frankie's mouth on your breast, and Joel still lapping at you between your thighs. The most exquisite feelings comes over you and your scream is muffled as you come so hard, your body spasming while surrounded by these men. It's the most sensually charged moment of your entire life.

Joel lifts himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's wetter'n a cucumber in a convent," he chuckles, standing and trying to get the feeling back in his knees. Frankie then moves down to finger you just as Javier is on the verge of coming. Just as he gives a strangled growl, spilling his cum into your willing throat, you feel one of Frankie's fingers in your ass. You gasp and clench around him as Dave takes Javier's place. Your body is buzzing with energy, with lust.

"You're gonna earn every penny," Dave growls, thrusting into your mouth as if he hates you. You don't have a gag reflex but you pretend to choke on him, bringing tears to your eyes.

Frankie starts to undo his pants then quickly steps away. "I'm, uh, not ready yet."

"Let her take care of it," Javier says, lighting up another cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Dave warns, his eyes still on the mascara running down your face.

"Fuck you."

You start stroking Frankie, smiling at the plumpness of his cock, uncut. He's gazing down at you with tenderness in his eyes.

"Marcus, you joinin' us?" Joel asks, getting ready to pull down his jeans.

Marcus watches from the adjoining kitchen, his beer growing warm in his hand. "Maybe.. in a bit." He smiles nervously.

Joel shrugs and unzips himself, releasing his thick, veiny cock. It's all you can do not to stare at it in wonder.

"Hey, I was gonna go first," Dave says aggressively.

"You snooze you lose. Aren't we all gonna get a turn?" Joel smirks before aligning himself to your opening. "Such a tiny, perfect little pussy.. you're gonna be completely wrecked when we're done with you, babygirl..."

Your eyes widen when he begins to slide into you, but you're already slick enough to take him. You remove Dave from your mouth so you can watch Joel's cock disappear inch by inch into your cunt.

"Don't forget about me," Dave warns you, tapping his dick against the side of your face. You compliantly return to sucking him off and he grunts contentedly in response. At the same time Joel pushes in to the hilt. "Hell she's taking every inch of me," he groans. "What a good little slut she is.."

"Well shit, don't stretch her out before the rest of us," Dave complains.

"That's not a particular worry of mine," Javier smirks, getting himself ready again as he goes to your free hand, opposite Frankie, who is already hard and ready. Joel is building up a nice tempo, sliding deep inside your pussy, Dave thrusts avidly into your mouth, Frankie and Joel are watching you as you zealously prime them for whatever they want to do next.

"Oh my god!" Frankie's eyes go wide and without warning he comes on your stomach and you make a sound of surprise when you feel the warm stickiness of him on your skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," you tell him with a smile. "Think you've got another one in you?" you wink and scoop his cum into your mouth as Frankie watches in wonder.

Dave seems upset that you keep removing him from your mouth to talk to Frankie, but Frankie looks so happy that you're not grossed out or upset. Dave grabs hold of the back of your head and rams himself in your throat. "Less talking, bitch," he growls.

You would give him a death glare but then you feel Joel speeding up, his thrusts strong, the loud slapping of your flesh fills the air. Before you know it you're throbbing around him, milking him as you feel him finish inside you. He doesn't stay long, and soon Javier takes his place. "Flip over, cariño," he says, moving you on all fours. Dave takes over from the front, Frankie strokes himself while fondling your tit. Javier grabs your ass and slides in, letting you feel every inch of him as you moan around Dave's cock. He cums soon, spraying the back of your throat with his thick white cum.

"Get in there, Frankie!" Javier encourages, pumping away none too gently as he watches your ass ripple with each thrust. "Marcus get over here and do something or you'll miss out!"

Marcus seems frozen to his spot but Frankie follows orders and you open wide to receive him. He looks down at you like you're some kind of miracle, and you make sure to look at him the same way, charmed by his good nature.

Javier leans close to you. "I'm gonna put it in your ass, cariño."

"Do whatever you want," you purr.

He pulls out of you and you feel a warm glob of saliva at your rear entrance. Javier smears it around your puckered hole and eases himself in. You gasp, fists clenching the edge of the ottoman. "Fill all her holes, boys," Dave says, watching from the side. "That's what she's here for."

Frankie pulls away from your mouth. "Let me get under you." he says, and Javier pulls out enough for you two to get positioned. Frankie aligns himself at your entrance and sinks in easily. "Jesus, you feel so good, Angel.." He thrusts up into you as Javier continues to fuck your ass. The three of you are a fusion of lust and frenzy. Joel watches, running his tongue over his lips, still tasting your sweet essence. Dave tells everyone he's next to claim your ass. Marcus has since inched closer, undeciding yet if he's going to join, or how. He's obviously hard, his eyes dark with craving.

"Marcus," you mumble as he approaches your side. "Fuck my mouth," you beg.

He suppresses a gasp but he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't.. in a while.."

"That's okay.." you smile at him, helping him pull down his pants and briefs, running your nails over his solid girth, and he immediately rises to the occasion. "You were shy before, but not now," you notice, and give his cock a couple of gentle tugs before taking him into your waiting mouth, just the tip, and letting him go in as deep as he wants.

Javier speeds up, fingers digging into your hips as all your cries fill the room. He comes, filling your ass as he grunts savagely, causing you in turn to come, clenching around Frankie who buries himself deep inside as he lets go. Once Javier pulls away Dave takes over, gripping your hips and moving you against him.

You finger your lonely pussy, unable to make yourself feel as good as any of these men have. “Oh god, I want all of you at once.. please!” You beg.

Marcus approaches you and lays beneath you as Dave moves away, scoots up so he’s practically standing over you. Joel claims your mouth and Javier lets you pump him with your fist. Frankie approaches from behind and at the same time Marcus enters you from beneath. Two men fuck your cunt, stretching you, ruining you, and all you can do is give them what they want and then ask for more.. one man in your mouth, in your hand, in your ass.. you are working for every penny just as Dave said.

You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.

"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.

"I don't think I'll be able to cum for weeks," Joel says, chuckling as he pulls up his pants.

Showered and dressed, you leave in a skimpy outfit that covers more than the lingerie did, as Dave uses the escort agency's app to send you a very generous tip from himself and the rest of the guys. The guys, cleaned up and all in relaxed moods, watch the game, not even upset that they missed most of the second half. You take your money and leave, blowing a kiss to the guys.

"God damn, you hired a good one," Javier mutters to Dave.

"Let's make this an annual thing," Dave smirks. "Next one's on you, Peña."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[a-killer-obsession]

Hey you know im gonna need AFAB she/her reader with a respectful number 9 with some accidental P and desperate T >:3c and if you can work in some F and W elements too well that would be an added bonus

That's a extra large number 9 McHorny Meal with a boytoy, please enjoy your meal!

Touch of Pollen, Touch of Pearl

Prompt: Sex Pollen + Thighjob + First Time + Body Worship

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, shark anatomy (claspers aka two dicks), masturbation, this came out a little omegaversy lmao, biting, size difference, this is basically a monsterfucker fic, oral (recieving), fingering, forced orgasms, pervert fish?, p n v sex, creampie, cumshot, aftercare, friends to lovers

WC: 7.6k dear god

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

You were a little anxious to say the least, pacing the lawn deck of the Sunny nervously as you waited for the scouting party to return. You'd only been on the crew a few months, but you cared about them greatly, and though the island was uninhabited you still held concerns. As the new botanist for the Straw Hats, born and raised in the New World, you knew how deceptively dangerous even just the plant life on these sorts of islands could be, and you cursed yourself for not insisting you joined the scouting party when you didn't draw a coloured straw to be chosen. Grass was flattened and getting damaged in the straight path you walked back and forth, other members idly sitting around on the lawn or stairs but nonchalantly keeping an eye out as well.

Usopp stood on the stern castle deck near the entrance to the aquarium, a telescope in hand that quickly shifted as he caught movement at the treeline. “They're coming back!” He announced, mouth turning downwards to a pout, “I think something is wrong, Robin's fleur is carrying Boss Jinbei”

You rushed up the stairs and grabbed the telescope to look, pointing it to where he'd been looking. Sure enough Nami and Robin were running towards the ship, Robin's arm's crossed and pink petals swirling in the air as giant hands appeared and disappeared in turns, carefully passing along Jinbei between them to move alongside them. He looked unconscious but you couldn't see any blood from this distance, so it was impossible to tell what was wrong. You could see Robin through the telescope as she spotted you, concern on her face as her mouth began to move. You almost yelped as the voice appeared right beside you, her pretty mouth tickling your shoulder where it had appeared as she spoke.

“[Y/n]! Can you hear me? Nod if you can,” the mouth said in Robin's sweet voice, a little panicked sounding which filled you with worry given her usually calm demeanour during times of crisis. You nodded in her direction, still too small to see her properly without the telescope but you assumed she had an eye somewhere you couldn't see. “Good, listen to me carefully. The three of us got hit with some sort of pollen spores, but it only seemed to affect Boss Jinbei. I'm worried about contamination so tell the others to put Boss Jinbei's mattress in the aquarium, then keep everyone clear of us, I mean it. Even Chopper, we don't know yet how this will affect the others if we still have pollen on us”

You gave a stern nod and turned to the others, who were slowly gathering behind you. “Franky, grab the Boss's mattress and take it to the aquarium then come back here. Nobody approach them when they arrive, I have a theory but right now it's not safe, we don't know how contagious they are”

“But I have to treat Boss!” Chopper cried.

“I know Chopper, but we can't have our brilliant doctor getting sick, Jinbei wouldn't want that,” you told him, making Chopper do his blushy little wiggle dance, “they said they all got hit by pollen so they could still all be covered in it, we need to keep our head about us”

“Okay…” Chopper said sadly, kicking at nothing. Franky returned from moving the mattress and joined the others as they gathered in front of the door to the boy's cabin, leaving plenty of space for the scouting party to ascend the gangplank and head to the aquarium. A giant hand appeared on the deck in a flurry of pink petals as they got close, receiving Jinbei from the previous hand and taking him to the aquarium as a trail of smaller hands received him and passed him through the door and out of sight.

“Robin-cwan! Nami-swan!” Sanji cooed as he ran towards the two women ascending the gangplank with open arms. You caught him by his collar, momentarily choking him as you yanked him backwards, throwing him at Zoro who rolled his eyes and hooked his arms under the cook's armpits to trap him.

“Sanji are you stupid?” You chided, “I told you we have to stay clear!”

“Sorry, my darling! I was caught in a spell of love!” Sanji replied, immediately starting to fight Zoro and setting off a fistfight that quickly ended for both of them with a hard knock to their heads from your closed fists, leaving them to sit on the grass and rub their scalps. Robin was saying something to Nami as they came on deck, and Nami quickly disappeared up the stairs and through the aquarium door.

“Robin! What happened!?” Chopper cried, rearing to go to her.

“It was some sort of mushroom,” she panted heavily from the run and straining use of her devil fruit, who knew how long they'd been running. “Nami stepped on it and it let some sort of cloud of spores out, and then Boss Jinbei started getting sweaty and feverish and collapsed”

“Did you see the mushroom?” You asked, a theory in mind but you needed to check your books and confirm the plant first.

“I did, and I'm guessing you have the same theory as I do about its effectiveness,” she suggested.

“Aye,” You replied confidently. “Sanji, Chopper, go to the kitchen once Robin and I are behind closed doors, use the pulley to communicate with Nami. I don't know the exact nature of what he's being affected by right now, but there are many plants and fungi on the Grandline that only affect males, so I believe us women are safe, as well as Brook I believe, since he doesn't have the capacity to be affected by drugs. Brook, go take Nami's place so she can shower, tell her to rinse her clothes and make sure she scrubs her hair well, Robin and I will go to the library to confirm the mushroom”

“What about the rest of us?” Luffy asked, pinky up his nose casually. You were glad to have such a laid back captain who had no problem giving up power at a time like this.

“The rest of you stay in the boy's cabin till someone comes to get you,” you ordered, already starting to leave, Brook long since run off to relieve Nami. “You have to all stay here till there's no chance of contamination. It shouldn't take long, just until Nami and Robin are clean, but under no circumstances is anyone other than myself, Robin, Nami or Brook, permitted to enter the aquarium. Even if Jinbei is cleaned we won't know if what he has is contagious to the rest of the men on board anyway”

“Right!” Usopp declared, hands on hips, pretending that he wasn't terrified and unbelievably relieved that he could just go hide in his bed.

You hurried off to join Robin, the two of you rushing up the stairs, the sound of footsteps and little hooves a safe distance behind you as Sanji and Chopper headed to the galley. You rushed to your shelf and pulled out a few books while Robin described the mushroom in great detail. Small, fat head, vibrant purple, blue spots, bulbous, she described it as being the relative shape and size of a dog's penis, which seemed oddly specific but you didn't question it. Robin searched through one book while you searched another, until she, with her undeniably impressive research skills, found a diagram of the mushroom she'd seen and slid the book across the table for you to decipher the technical jargon that she only particularly understood, being that this wasn't her field of knowledge.

“This isn't good,” you bit you lip as you recognized the page and remembered what you knew of it, “he's been hit by a powerful aphrodisiac, and just as we thought it only affects the males of species that procreate through sexual reproduction”

“It probably bolsters species numbers so it has more corpses to feed off,” Robin said nonchalantly. You shuddered at the incredibly morbid observation but she was probably right. “How will it affect Boss Jinbei?”

“His body is telling him right now that he needs to breed,” you sighed, scanning the page and reading the lists of side effects and potential treatments. “He's essentially going into the mammal equivalent of a rut. It says here the effects can last up to four days until-” you re-read the passage over and over hoping you were reading it wrong but disparingly it remained the same.

“Until what?” Robin asked with great concern as she noted your hesitation.

“Until his body gives out from the strain and he dies,” you replied, voice shakey. Robin was cold and silent as she processed the statement, logical mind in overdrive as she looked for a solution, separating herself from her feelings to keep her wits about her as she often did in situations like this. “What happens when animals are exposed?” She finally asked. “If it wants them to reproduce, surely it doesn't just kill them?”

“It says they mate several times and the effects wear off, if they don't find a mate the mortality time frame is two to seven days depending on the size of the animal,” you reported, slumping into a chair in defeat, already mourning the loss of the helmsman you'd come to really care for. Really, really cared for. Now that you were losing him, your heart was going into overdrive and you regretted never telling him how you really felt. Would he even be coherent enough to understand if you told him now?

“So he just needs to mate then,” Robin said matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal, shaking you from your self-immolating spiral. You brows shot up in surprise, like she wasn't suggesting the fishman just needed to get laid to save his life. “Do you want to do it or shall I? Nami is only interested in women, I don't believe she'll be of help here.”

“Robin!” You exclaimed, vibrant blush spreading on your cheeks as you considered what it might be like to lay with Jinbei. So strong… so… big… it wasn't like it was the first time you'd thought about it either. Robin quirked a brow, she could practically see the cogs turning in your head.

“You like him, don't you?” She smiled knowingly. You gave a frustrated huff and crossed your arms but didn't correct her, making her giggle. “I'll leave him in your care then. I should go shower, but I'll update Chopper on the situation afterwards and say what he says”

“Robinnnn, I can't-” you complained, “I mean… he's not in his right mind, what if he hates me after?”

“I can assure you that Boss Jinbei will probably be the one apologising profusely afterwards,” she smiled, “he'll probably blame himself and claim he took advantage of you. It'll be fine, [y/n], I think he'll be thankful you did it instead of letting him suffer and die. It's not the worst thing to happen, he is quite fond of you after all”

“He is?” You blushed, picking at your cuticles under the table.

“He told me himself he thinks you're quite beautiful,” she assured you, no hint of untruthfulness or malice in her voice. “I should warn you though, I've discussed fishman anatomy with him in great detail for my research and you may find he is quite unlike any human you've been with”

“Ah, yes.. because I have definitely slept with other humans,” you mumbled sarcastically. Robin took a seat next to you and rubbed your hand reassuringly.

“[Y/n] my dear, are you a virgin?” She asked softly, no hint of mockery in her voice, only quiet concern.

“... yes,” you replied in a small voice. She made a little sigh and rubbed the back of your hand with her other, your palm sandwiched between her soft warm ones.

“Are you sure you want to do this then?” She asked, “I don't want you to be uncomfortable. It's a lot to ask of someone even if they had experience”

“It's okay, I think, if it's him,” you replied with a heavy blush, “it's not that I never wanted to, I just never had the opportunity, given my… coloured… history. I've done… some things… just never the whole way. What do you mean thought by ‘he's unlike a human’?”

“Ah,” Robin smiled softly at you, “you see, Boss Jinbei is a whale shark fishman. His genitals are quite like that of a whale shark.”

“Meaning?” You pressed.

“Meaning, he has claspers instead of a penis,” she explained. You cocked a brow, not missing the plural.

“Claspers, multiple?” You asked.

“Yes, two of them,” she answered causally with that usual sweet smile of hers like she hadn't just dropped a bombshell. You must have been cherry red at this point, your face hot with flush. “There is also something else,” she continued, and you wondered how she could possibly have anything more shocking to say than dropping than Jinbei has two dicks. “You are aware of how some mammals lock together during mating, yes?” You nodded anxiously, already seeing where this was going, “Claspers have a similar process, so you may find a little discomfort as he finishes”

“Oh, okay,” you blinked, trying to recall every moment in your life that led to this bizarre scenario. That's what you get for staying on the Grandline you guessed. “What do I… um… what do I do? I mean how do I… how do I please him?”

“Just follow his lead,” Robin assured you, “I'm sure despite the pollen he will be a gentleman. Boss Jinbei has a strong will, a little horniness isn't going to be enough to make him hurt you”

“Okay,” you replied anxiously.

“I'll keep the other's from the aquarium, make sure you shut the pulley hatch though, or the sound will travel,” she winked as she stood, bringing on a whole new round of fluster. “If you change your mind just tell me, I won't judge you if you don't feel comfortable with the situation, I'll take care of him if you find yourself unable to”

“Thank you Robin,” you sighed as you stood, following her out the door. You made your way down the stairs as she headed the other way to head to the bathroom, and you took a deep breath before entering the aquarium. Jinbei was laying on the mattress in the middle of the floor, pushed up against the bar seating that surrounded the mizzenmast running through the center of the room. His kimono was open to the waist, his red sun tattoo on full display, smooth skin dripping with sweat as his chest heaved with heavy breaths. He was unconscious still, Brook carefully dabbing at his forehead with a cold damp cloth.

“Ah! [Y/n]-san! Do you have news?” Brook asked hurriedly, resting the cloth over Jinbei's forehead as he turned his attention to you. You sat on one of the bench seats that lined the half moon room, blue aquarium lights colouring the room in soft lighting that would be romantic under other circumstances.

“We know the mushroom that he was affected by, and we were correct in thinking it only affects males,” you looked at Brook, “sorry, males within their fertile age range.” Brook nodded for you to continue, not taking offense to your attempt at not immasculating him, he understood what you meant. “I can help him, he'll be okay, but I'll need some privacy for the rest of the day and evening. The treatment is quite delicate, I don't think he'd like others seeing him in that position”

“It sounds like you're going to torture him,” Brook half laughed, and you struggled to force a smile for him to keep it lighthearted. In reality, Jinbei's current position, laid out and panting, half clothed and covered in sweat, was having an effect of its own on you, and you felt a little ashamed that you were beginning to look forward to the… treatment… despite the fact that Jinbei was clearly suffering right now. “Shall I leave then?” Brook asked, standing and reminding you how incredibly tall he was.

“Yes, thank you Brook, I can look after him from here,” you hummed, “please ask Sanji to send our dinner up in the pulley as well as plenty of water. I'll also need some clean towels, and probably some more cloths with a bucket of water to wet them”

“Aye aye, [y/n]-san!” Brook gave a mock salute, “please take care of Boss-san!”

“He's gonna be okay, Brook,” you smiled, running a thumb over the back of the skeleton's cold boney hand. You weren't sure if he could feel it but you hoped the motion was comforting anyway. You could tell that Brook was concerned, he was doing his best to come off as nonchalant but you knew he cared a great deal about Jinbei, and could hear the underlying concern in his voice. He gave your hand a squeeze, letting you know he understood the gesture and appreciated it, before leaving to pass on your message and gather things for you.

You pulled your knees up to your chin as you watched over Jinbei. From what the book explained, right now he was going through a process that would usually take several days, his body being pumped full of hormones that would put him into a frenzy when he eventually woke up. For now he would likely be asleep a little longer, so you had a little time to prepare. First you took the towels and bucket of water that were sent up the pulley, setting them aside on a bench with the bucket on the floor. You set the large jug of water Sanji sent up on the bar counter along with the two glasses, and set beside them the lovingly made snacks that were sent up with them. You took the opportunity to eat and drink a little while you could, then, satisfied there was nothing more to be done, you locked the aquarium door, shut the pulley hatch, and removed most of your clothes. They were going to come off anyway, you may as well make it less awkward for Jinbei by doing some of the work now, leaving yourself in only your loose comfortable shirt and panties. You curled up on the mattress beside him, Jinbei making little groans as you pressed against his side. His usually cool skin was almost blistering to the touch, yet it erupted in goosebumps wherever you made contact. You hoped your physical presence could offer him some comfort during his fever dreams, at the very least he would know he wasn't alone when he woke up.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The mattress shifting underneath you woke you from your unintentional nap, heavy breathing and groans next to you indicating that Jinbei was awake. You realised his kimono was draped over you like a blanket, still warm from being against his feverish skin, but notably that meant he was likely naked. You turned your body to face him, his bare back to you, hand at his front moving frantically, you didn't need two guesses to know why. You could hear his teeth occasionally click together like he was biting air as he made frustrated growls and fisted himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin as you reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, his smooth skin coated in sweat.

“[Y/n]!” He exclaimed, curling in on himself to hide his shame, “please excuse me! I didn't mean to- I mean I had to- ah, I'm usually more controlled than this!”

“It's okay Boss, you're not in your right mind,” you cooed, rubbing his back soothingly, “you've been dosed with an aphrodisiac, how much do you remember?”

“Ah, we were scouting and then,” his brows furrowed as he tried to fight the horny haze in his brain to concentrate, “Nami stood on something, and there was some sort of cloud, and I felt warm and dizzy. I don't remember anything after that. Ah, are the other's okay?”

“She stood on a mushroom,” you explained, “Robin and Nami are okay, as is everyone else. The mushroom only affects breeding age males, the others are all being kept clear of this room. Right now, you're experiencing the mammal equivalent of a rut. Do you understand?”

“Ah, that does explain my… condition,” he hummed, cheeks flush with embarrassment. Jinbei was strong and brave, even against emperors he showed no fear, but when it came to matters of sexual needs, his confidence was practically stripped from him. He was raised in a generation that instilled a great amount of taboo about all things of a sexual nature, he knew it was just a natural process many experienced and the foundation of how most species continued, but he couldn't bring himself to work past the feeling of shame that sat deep within him for having such desires.

“I know this is… awkward… but you have to let it run its course,” you said softly, “you have to give in, or it'll wear you down till your body gives out. That's why I'm here. I imagine you are… unable to find satisfaction on your own right now, because of the pollen”

“You would be correct,” Jinbei cleared his throat awkwardly, “but I can not ask you to do that. I will die with my honour intact instead, I will not force myself on you because of this”

“Jinbei…” he shivered a little at your use of his name, you only ever called him Boss as many of the crew did, and his name sounded like honey dripping from your tongue. “You won't be forcing me to do anything, I'm offering. I… like you…” your voice cracked a little as you forced out the confession, no time like the present you guessed, especially if this was your only chance to say it. “Robin has offered as well, if you would prefer her…”

“No!” He spooked you a little with the speed he turned over, taking your wrist firmly but not painfully in his large smooth hand, “I, I want you. I woke up thinking about you. Even before I realised you were here, I could smell you, that delicious sweet scent you have,” your breath hitched as he pressed his nose against the crook of your neck, forcing your head to move and unintentionally baring it for him. He took a deep inhale, making a small groan as he caught your scent. “You've always smelt so good to me, and you're so beautiful. So sweet and strong and kind, I care a great deal about you. Which is why I can't take what you're offering, my pearl”

“I can't let you die,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his as he retracted his face from your shoulder. You shuffled forward so your bodies were pressed together, feeling the long hard forms of his two cocks against your abdomen. It made you ache with need, unconsciously pressing harder against him. “I want you, Boss,” you whispered, “and I want you to be okay. So use me, use my body to fight the pollen, so you can live. You care about me, don't you? Don't hurt me by letting yourself die because of a stupid outdated concept like honour. It's not honourable to let yourself die needlessly, let me help you”

Jinbei made a little whimper as your words soaked in, letting you guide his hand to rest against your ass. You reached down between your bodies, taking his claspers in your small, shaky hand and doing what you could to hold them together, unable to wrap your hand around them properly. He was big, proportional to his large body, each one being about the length and width of your arm from fingertip to elbow, thicker even perhaps, smooth and tapered at the end, witg none of the prominent veins or defined head that a human cock had. He made a stuttered groan as you touched him, his hand flexing on instinct and unintentionally squeezing the flesh of your ass, his hand large enough to cover the whole of your rump. It was just as well he was big, with your face up near his you could barely reach, the base of his cock closer to your knees than your own center, but his cocks were long enough that you could reach the top third of them anyway.

His eyes were shut as you touched him, making restrained groans as you ran your other hand up his chest, till it cupped his cheek, running your thumb curiously over the edge of a tusk. His eyes opened in surprise as you pressed your lips against his, small mouth slotting nicely between his tusks which were smooth against your cheeks. His eyes closed again as he returned the kiss, his lips parting as his tongue pressed against yours, so wide it barely fit in your mouth, sparking arousal at your core at just how big everything about him was. His sharp teeth were no issue as he kept dominance over the kiss, pollen driving his need as he began to buck into your hand, the tips of his claspers finding their way under your shirt till he was sliding against your warm bare skin. Something in him snapped as you let out a needy whine, pollen taking his mind completely as he broke from the kiss and flipped you over so your back was against his front, your core aligned with his. He pressed against your ass, his cocks driving against you as he rutted desperately till he found what he needed, the pair sliding between your thighs and making him growl as he found the pressure he was looking for. He immediately set a fast pace, fucking your thighs hard, hands holding your hips tight as his cocks rubbed firmly against your center, grinding against your clothed clit and making you moan. Your moans only spurred him on more, entirely driven by lust and need, and he could feel the way your panties grew damper with every long pull, the scent of your arousal thicker by the moment and slowly driving him insane.

He made a possessive growl as he tore your panties from your body, making you yelp in surprise, his hands pushing your shirt up roughly and groping your soft breasts as he felt the first drops of your slick against his cocks and made a deep satisfied rubble that reverberated through your chest as he pinned you against him. His claspers were pressed hard against your pussy, slicker with every pull, rolling your clit back and forth between them as they moved, making you whine and squeeze your thighs harder to force more pressure. You couldn't have fought him off even if you wanted to, his hold so tight on you as he moved one hand back to your hip, the other still kneading your breasts and playing with your nipples, that clicking sound of his teeth slamming together returning behind you. A thought occurred to you, knowing he was being driven by instincts right now, and knowing many predator species used their teeth to hold the female during mating.

“Boss, you can bite me if you need to,” you whined, pulling your shirt aside to expose your skin. His nose breezed against your neck again, making you shiver, the clicking sound now right against your ear. Your shirt was suddenly torn open, the remnants hanging weakly from your torso as you felt his teeth nip at your skin. He didn't sink them in like you thought he might, instead just pricking the skin like little needles, barely noticeable past the pleasure he was giving you, making small love bites that only occasionally drew a tiny amount of blood, which he would tenderly soothe with his wide tongue before making a new mark. The deep rumble in his chest continued, almost akin to a purr, making your whole body vibrate pleasantly. He shifted slightly and it had the effect of making one cock zero in on your clit. Previously it'd been sort of ground between them, but now he was making direct contact against it and your coil quickly pulled taught. You fought his hold instinctively against the overstimulation, but unable to escape you had no choice but to let go, gushing over his cocks and shaking hard against him. He groaned as he felt your release and bit your shoulder again, this time holding his teeth almost threateningly against your delicate skin as the ends of his claspers opened like umbrellas and great swathes of cum shot from them, pooling against your thighs and on the mattress in front of you as you made overstimulated whimpers.

His hold only slightly loosened on you, his thick tongue running over your shoulder and neck before shifting so you fell back against the mattress, cum pooling underneath you as the weight on the mattress made it run in your direction. You felt utterly lewd sitting in a pool of his cum, some of it still dripping over your front as you panted, the thick fluid slowly seeping into the bedding below as it cooled. His tongue never stopped moving as he loomed over you, running it over your torso, wide enough that he could envelop an entire breast with one swipe of the wet appendage before sucking it into his mouth, careful of his teeth as he flicked your pert nipples with the tip of his tongue. You were a squirming, panting mess underneath him, the scraps of your shirt pulled from your body leaving you entirely nude underneath him, his tongue travelling further and further down as he licked and touched every part of you. He pushed your legs apart and knelt between them, grabbing your ankles and pulling them up so he could run his tongue over your legs, leaving you with only the upper half of your torso against the mattress as he dangled you practically upside-down. The way he manhandled you made you ache, he could snap you like a twig if he wanted to but his hands were firm and gentle, prying your legs apart as you grew suddenly shy. He gave you a hungry look as he held you open by your thighs, his large hands able to wrap right around them like he was holding no more than a couple of training weights, admiring the vibrant blush on your face as you failed to hide behind your hands, and the way his cum was now coating your hair with the way he was holding you. He kept eye contact with you as he ran his tongue between your folds, making you buck and squirm as he held you tight, lapping at you like you were a frozen treat before zeroing in on your sensitive clit and giving it a harsh suck. The sounds you were making made him rut against nothing, though occasionally you could feel the tips of his hardened lengths against your back whenever his hips jolted forward. The end of his tongue teased against your entrance and you held your breath, overly anxious from having never been penetrated before. He could see your hesitation and despite the cloud of lust, he stopped himself, concerned for your wellbeing.

“Do you want me to stop, my pearl?” He asked, voice husky and deep, making your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you shivered.

“No, don't stop,” you whined, “I just haven't… I've never had anyone there”

“I can avoid that, if you'd like,” he said softly, “there are plenty of other things I can do,” he continued playfully, running his tongue flat over your pussy to emphasize his point.

“No, I want it,” you moaned, reaching up to touch him but unable to reach, arms falling uselessly back to the blankets, “I want you inside me, please Jinbei”

Your hips rolled on their own accord, searching unconsciously for fullness, and his cocks twitched at your neediness. “I'll be so gentle with you, my pearl,” he cooed, the tip of his tongue back at your entrance where you ached for him. He pushed it in slowly, watching your face carefully for any sign of unease or pain, knowing full well his tongue was thicker than any normal human man's cock. He probably should have used his fingers first, but they were impossibly thick as well, so it probably made little difference. At least your previous orgasm had relaxed you a little, allowing him to get about a third of his wide tongue inside you without much resistance, slowly sinking more in as you stretched around it. You were already moaning and writhing at the fill and he hadn't even done anything yet, making a grin spread over his face as he watched you drape an arm over your eyes and grope at your own breast with the other hand.

Finally he hit the thickest part of his tongue, sliding the rest in with relative ease, making you let out a long, deep moan as his tongue began to thrust in and out of you, causing you a type of pleasure that was entirely unfamiliar to you. He barely had to move, making agonizingly slow, shallow pulls and thrusts with his tongue that had your pussy fluttering around him, crying out in pleasure while your honey pooled on his tastebuds. He curled it inside you, pressing against your spongey g-spot and making you see white as you suddenly came again without warning, gushing on his tongue, making him groan as he made lewd slurping noses and drank your release.

“You're doing so well, my pearl,” he praised as he removed his tongue, giving you one more wide stripe of it before lowering your pelvis to his lap as he licked his lips. You could feel his claspers, hard and twitching against your back. Your legs were either side of Jinbei, soaked pussy pressed against his front by design, arousal catching on his curly black tuft of pubic hair as your chest continued to heave with every heavy pant. Your ass was pressed against the base of his cocks, and from this position you could feel how they reached all the way to your upper back, to the bottom of your shoulder blades. There was no way you could take him, it was physically impossible, but you couldn't help your curiosity as you wondered what it might feel like for him to fill you with what he could, especially given the nirvana you'd found with his tongue alone. One of your hands stayed drapped over your face, unable to bring yourself to look at him, embarrassed by how debauched you must look. The other you slid under your back, making Jinbei grunt as you found a clasper and stroked it experimentally.

“Jinbei,” you whined, “want you~”

“Are you sure, my pearl?” He asked hesitantly, bringing a thumb to your wet cunt and pressing it gently against your swollen clit, making you squeak. You could feel how hard he still was underneath you despite how much he'd cum earlier, the pollen needed more from him, he needed another release, and you wanted it too.

“Want you inside me, please,” you moaned, rolling your hips to grind yourself against his thumb. Jinbei's teeth clicked together again, and he shook his head as he fought the suffocating cloud of lust the pollen was causing. Everything in his brain was telling him to grab you hard and use your body till you were fat with his babies, but he couldn't do that to you, so small and fragile and trusting under his strong hands. You finally pulled your arm away from your face enough to look at him, peeking out from beneath your forearm, eyes blown out with lust, your lip millimeters from bleeding as you bit down on it.

“Fuck,” he huffed, knowing full well he couldn't deny you when you were looking at him like that. You shivered with anticipation, you were sure you'd never even heard him swear before, and it made your pussy drip knowing it was your expression alone that made the usually polite, well mannered gentleman curse. He wasn't even sure at this point if it was the pollen or just your body squirming under him that made him feel so aggressively horny and possessive of you, seeing the perfect half moons of small red dashes that littered your skin from his teeth, marking you as his. He wanted all of you, and the way you gripped his cock told him how much you wanted all of him too.

He slid his hand under your rump for just a moment, freeing the clasper you weren't holding, pulling it to the front and letting it fall heavy against you with a wet slap. The base of it gave you something to grind against, which you did eagerly, lubricating him with your arousal while his tip laid between your breasts, precum dripping from it and dribbling down towards your neck. You looked at him as you teasingly craned your neck, swiping your tongue over the end and gathering some of the salty fluid that leaked from it, feeling it pulse against your abdomen as more fluid leaked onto your tongue. You let yourself lay back again, ass still raised in his lap as you grinded against him, licking your lips as you held eye contact. He made a little growl, undeniably turned on by what you'd done, then he grabbed you with a hand under your back and the other under your ass, scooping you up and moving you easily as though you weighed nothing, seating you on the long bench that bordered the aquarium. Your body was almost as blue as his under the soft lighting, and his hands pressed against the underside of your thighs, pushing them up and out so your cunt was on full display for him, pussy slightly gaped from his thick tongue and glistening with honey. He had you practically folded in half, chest and head pressed against the back of the padded bench, ass at the edge of the seating, legs in the air. You would have been embarrassed by how exposed your cunt was but the hungry way he was looking at you overrid any inclination of shyness. He lowered his face to your pussy and ran a wide stripe up it again, letting his tongue continue upwards, running over your stomach and between you breasts, lapping up his own precum until his tongue reached your mouth and he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

He used the kiss to distract you as he slid two thick fingers inside your pussy, pumping you slowly and scissoring them to stretch you out, the webbing between fingers catching against your edges and assisting with the stretch. He added a third, swallowing the whine you made at the slightly painful stretch, which faded back to pleasure as you adjusted to him. He brought his cocks up to rest against your stomach and you reached between your bodies to take one in each hand, stroking them the pace he was setting with his fingers even if you couldn't fit your hands right around them.

Satisfied you were open enough to take him, he sat back on the balls of his feet, fisting his claspers together in one hand, his hands big enough to reach around both at once with no issue. You bit your lip as you looked at them, so impossibly big, and it was like he could read your mind as he ran a soothing thumb over your inner thigh.

“I don't expect you to take all of me, my pearl,” he assured you, “just some of one will feel devine I am certain. Are you ready my love? You can say no, I won't be upset with you.”

You nodded and bit your finger nervously, letting your knees fall outwards to spread yourself as wide as you could, feet resting on the curved bench either side of you. He took a clasper in each hand, guiding one to rest against you while he positioned the other at your entrance. “It may hurt a little at first, but only for a moment. You'll tell me if it gets too much, right?”

You nodded again and he gave you a soft smile, running a hand up your chest till it cupped your face, holding you so very gently and rubbing his thumb over your cheek and lips as he began to slide his cock inside you. He'd prepared you well, but there was still some amount of stretch, a slight stinging pain as your entrance widened to its limits. He saw the pained expression on your face and cooed soft praises, moving as slowly as he could until he felt his tip press against your cervix, pulling back a little so he wouldn't hurt you by pressing against it. He stayed deadly still until the pain written on your face melted, your expression falling back to pleasure as you appreciated just how full you were with his body connected to yours. When your eyes opened, not even realising you'd closed them in concentration, you found him looking at you with such pride and devotion that you couldn't help but offer him a half-lidded smile, which he returned with his usual toothy grin, making your heart soar.

“Are you ready now, my love?” He asked softly, his smile making you feel significantly less nervous, remembering that this was Jinbei, and you were safe with him.

“Y-yes,” you replied, biting your lip as he began to drag himself back out of you, and gripping the fabric of the bench below you hard as he sunk back in. His pace was agonizingly slow for both of you, barely half of his cock shealthed, the other clasper resting heavily against your abdomen and grinding against your clit with every thrust, meeting with the buldge in your abdomen that made Jinbei's eyes roll back every time he saw it, aroused by seeing himself so deep inside you.

Bit by bit he increased his pace as you grew more comfortable, whines turning to strings of loud moans and cries of his name, making tears in the fabric of the seating below you as your nails sank into it while you held on for dear life. Your entire body was being rocked back and forth as he fucked you, pollen slowly winning out over his better judgement as he lifted one of your legs and nipped at the calf. He had to put all his will power into keeping himself from sinking any deeper into you, but your hot wet walls felt so tight and devine around his cock, the soft skin of your belly giving pleasant friction to the other. The hand not holding your leg was resting at the top of the bench over your head for support, wood creaking under the strain as it threatened to break. He couldn't help but blush when he looked up and saw the fish in the aquarium watching him, a small audience as he fucked you senseless.

“Jinbeiiii,” you whined, pulling his attention from the voyeuristic fish, “I'm- I'm gonna-”

“Let go for me, my pearl,” he groaned, “I'll be right there with you, you're doing so very well”

You went practically silent as you saw white, body arching off the bench and seizing, hands reaching out and grabbing at forearms, sinking your nails into them as you came hard. You felt a swelling inside you as his clasper opened, vaguely registering through your haze as the other opened against your belly, liquid spraying out over your breasts and neck, some even splashing against your face, while more still filled you and dripped from your overstuffed cunt as Jinbei groaned and stilled. Both of you went slack, Jinbei's cocks slipping from on and in you and slapping against his thighs wetly as he pulled away, hands either side of you to keep him from crushing you. He kissed you softly, both of you unable to do any more than exhausted soft pecks in the intense afterglow of your orgasms, cum dripping down your center and leaking from your cunt, pooling on the floor beneath you as he helped you sit up a little better. He looked at the fish above you and gave them a little growl, the school quickly dissipating at threat of being eaten.

You weren't sure how long the two of you sat there in silence, panting heavily and exchanging soft kisses. At some point he redressed, using the cloths and towels you'd prepared earlier to clean you both up as best he could. He frowned at your clothes, torn in his lust-addled haze, making note to himself to replace them, before taking the cape from his kimono and wrapping it around you. He sat on the bench next to you and pulled you into his lap, and you giggled as he hand fed you snacks and water, smiling to himself at how cute you were, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks that you still seemed so trusting of him after the relatively hard fuck he'd given you. His mind felt a lot clearer, the pollen now worked out of his system, but he couldn't find any ounce of regret at what had happened, and neither could you.

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

[papaya-twinks]

Oi, oi Frankie!

I have a big ideia for another Lando short fic and I only trust you to write it 🫶🏻 (Hope you like the idea as much as I do)

The idea is: Lando is very good friend with his strategy engineer, the reader (she has the same role as Hannah Schmitz at Redbull).

They often play flirting with each other but the reader thinks it's just an inside joke and that he doesn't have any romantic feelings for her. Because of this, one day when they were a little drunk, the reader blurts out that of that the few sexual experiences she has had in her life, none of them were really good for her and Lando is incredulous. So, he tells her that in the next race he wins, if she has a direct connection with what happened, he will show her how good these activities can be for her in form of thanks, but she doesn't believe it's a promise because he's drunk and they're just friends.

A few races after the "promise", Lando wins the race precisely because of the strategy made by the reader. Neither of them talk about it and just enjoy their victory until the end of the day. Later that night, the reader is surprised by Lando knocking on her door, she doesn't believe he's there because he had gone out with Verstappen and Sainz to celebrate the victory and it was still too early in the night for him to be back and he says something like 'I couldn't keep my girl waiting. especially when I have a promise to keep' (something like that, I'm freaking out imagining it). After that, you know... The reader has the best night of her life

I'm really sorry that my requests are always THIS big (I can't help but give details 😭😭😭)

Warnings: smut, 18+, teasing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“Lando,” you sighed, walking into the garage and seeing the driver perched on one of the ledges, his legs swinging away. “Y/N, strategy meetings suck,” he whined, seeing you walk up to him as you rolled your eyes. “They help you win, Lando,” you raised a brow at him as he huffed. “I won one race,”

“Lando,” it felt like you were talking to a toddler or some disobedient child, “you need to come to the meeting,”. Lando crossed his arms, your eyes narrowing at the almost pouty expression on his face. “Look,” he said, “I won Miami and we didn’t do a strategy meeting coz we were busy playing Mario cart,” he pointed out, making you flush slightly. 

It was true, you had both lost track of time and found yourself playing the game well into the night. “We can have a telepathic thing,” he said, tapping his temples with his finger as you rolled your eyes. “We’ll see about that,” you used, shaking your head at the man in front of you, 

You and Lando had an interesting relationship - you’d both make flirty jokes to each other and think nothing of it. Well, you’d think nothing of it. In your mind, you thought it was just inside jokes and shit, not that Lando actually had feelings for you. That would be dumb…right?

Well, it was safe to say Lando’s telepathic idea had not worked, and he finished the race in second, a good result, yet he was hoping more. “What did I say?” you muses as the man grumbled under his breath, sticky from the champagne as he mumbled something about it being Opposite Day. “Look, why don’t we go out for drinks with Oscar and some others?” you said, seeing he looked genuinely annoyed at the race as he nodded, never one to say no to drinks. 

So you went to the club, you in a pretty black minidress which showed off your gorgeous body, your hair down and makeup done but still slightly natural. You spotted Oscar first, standing by a table as you made your way there, seeing him with his arm lazily round his girlfriend and Lando standing beside them, sipping on his own drinks. “Didn’t even wait for me,” you said in mock offence as Lando spotted you. 

It was almost like you were trying to get him all worked up with your pretty outfit. How he wished you’d just see how much he wanted you. “Nah, I got you one,” Lando grinned, pulling you to sit on the couch beside him and handing you the cup. Oscar smirked or Lily at the interaction but said nothing, choosing to let the situation flow on its own. 

Your conversation started with teasing about the race, Lando’s huffs and protests making you snort with laughter. “Yeah, well you need for fix your telepathy then,” you missed as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, shut it Y/L/N,” he said, giving you a light push. As you took more of your drink, downing glass after glass after glass, Lando couldn’t help but comment. 

“Jesus, someone’s unwinding,” he mused. “Yeah, shush,” you said, voice slurred slightly. “Awww, how you gonna get home, Y/N?” he grinned, “you can’t even drive. Gonna get your little boyfriend to pick to you up?”. Lando would be lying if he said that the mention of you having a boyfriend, if you did, didn’t get on his nerves, even if he was the one who said it. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you scrunched your nose towards the man in front of you. Oscar and Lily were busy dancing somewhere, leaving you and Lando leaning close to hear each other over the sound of the loud music and lights. The proximity did make Lando slightly nervous, but you seemed fine with it, your head on his shoulder, the smell of your pretty perfume filling his nose. 

“Sex is shit,” you muttered, making Lando perk up. “Sex?” he asked, “where did that come from?”. You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your dress, your drunken state pulling random statements from your mind. “Every guy I’ve slept with was so bad,” you varied in with your rant as Lando watched with a mix of need, shock and surprise. 

“Really?” he asked, his eyes darkening slightly as he thought for a second. “Yeah,” you shrugged, your drunken mind not clocking his dilated pupils. “Never once had good sex?” he asked, clucking his tongue in mock disappointment. “The world is doomed,” you groaned dramatically, “can’t even find good sex nowadays,”. 

Lando snorted at your sudden comment, his eyes rolling. “Yeah yeah,” he huffed, “I’m good at sex,”. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his almost defensive tone, your head cocking. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know,” you giggled, the sound like a melody to Lando. Oh how he’d love to pull out other sounds. Dirtier, filthier noises from your pretty little mouth. 

“D’you think I’m a good strategist?” you asked, your eyes turning to Lando suddenly, his eyebrows shooting up once more. “Bit random,” he mused, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Be honest,” you said, desperate for his honest opinion. He could see you wanted his true opinion so he shrugged and gave it to you. 

“I think you’re amazing,” though Lando could still see the uncertainty in your eyes, the alcohol no doubt doubling the feeling inside of you. “Got an idea, Y/N,” Lando said, leaning forwards, your eyes brightening with curiosity. “If we win the next race,” he spoke slowly, his voice tantalisingly slowly as you leaned forwards too, sitting on the edge of the sofa. 

“And the strategy is coz of you,” his hand ran lazily up your thigh, stopping to fiddle with the hem of your dress as your eyes traced his finger, “I’ll show you all the things you want from sex…and more,”. Your eyes widened at the proposition, thoughts of professionalism and your job not even once entering your mind as you nodded slowly. 

“How does that sound?” Lando asked, looking at your face for any sense or hint of fear or uncertainty. “Deal,” you said firmly, his hand moving off your thigh. “Then we have an arrangement,” he clapped his hands, his tone shifting as Oscar and Lily returned. 

The British Grand Prix, Lando’s home race, where he was desperate to score a win. And so, for the first time in a few races, Lando actually turned up to the strategy meeting and paid attention - well, more attention on the way your skirt rode  up when you walked, his tongue flicking to the corners of his mouth as he usually did. Your eyes darted to him every few seconds, noticing the way he stared. 

God knows if the damn information actually went into his head. “Okay Lando, qualifying,” you clapped your hands, taking control of his radio for this weekend. “Okay Y/N, qualifying,” he mimicked you as you rolled your eyes. “Behave,” you said, well aware the radio could be broadcasted for the world to see. 

Lando had said much worse things, a few of your favourites being: ‘tickle my pickle for a nickel’ or ‘Y/N preferred the hards to the softs, then we had to get the wets’. The second sentence didn’t even sound weird, but the way he’d said it? Jesus, this man was trying to kill. 

“Now, what about you listen to my strategy, yeah?” you asked, listening for his answer. “Sorry mum,” he grumbled, but listened anyways. And, as predicted, he qualified in P2. Not P1, due to a slip up on the final lap, but P2 anyways. “Told ya,” you said, but he waved it off. “Yeah yeah, I said a win,”. 

Your thoughts immediately flicked to the promise he’d made, and some sort of fire seemed to light inside of you, desperate to secure your driver a first place. “Okay, Lando,” you said, “you’re running P2, but George isn’t pitting,”. Lando responded with a quick ‘yep’ as he drove round the bends of Maggots and Becketts. 

“Lando, box, now,” you said, watching him drive down the straight. “Y/N, next lap, we-,” you cut him off. “You said you’d listen, Lando, and I say pit now,”. He grumbled something incoherent but drove into the pit lane anyways, pitting. “What did I say?” you grinned as he came out in first, effectively undercutting George. 

“I hate that you’re a smart ass,” Lando grumbled, though there was a hint of a teasing tone in his voice. You watched as he walked out of the car, jumping into the arms of the team. “I said first, Lando, and that’s what I got you!” you grinned, shouting over the noise of the cheering team. He smiled and hugged you back, but didn’t mention the promise from earlier. 

“Where’s Lando?” you walk into the garage, looking to Oscar. “Gone to party with Max and Carlos,” the Aussie answered and you nodded. You guessed it was true - Lando probably didn’t actually mean his promise, did he? He was just drunk and it slipped out. You ended up going back to your apartment, sending Lando a quick ‘well done x’ text. 

Sure, you were a little upset that he didn’t end up fulfilling his promise but you never truly believed he would. You were sitting on your bed, wearing a thin night gown with your black lace bra and short shorts visible. Just as you were laying on your stomach, scrolling through your social, the sound of your apartment doorbell went off, making you frown. 

Who the hell was at your door at 11pm? You grumbled something under your breath as you walked to the door, peeking round so your body wasn’t on show. “Lando?” you cocked your head, seeing him standing outside in a white button up shirt, open at the top and exposing his tan chest, accented with pretty chains. His curls were slightly ruffled, cheeks flushed red as he gripped a bundle of flowers in his hand. 

“Y/N, thank god,” he said, seeing you there, his flushed cheeks fading slightly. You were still hiding behind the door, only your face on show. “Sorry to keep the pretty girl waiting,” he said voice laced with small hints of shyness. Cute. “Thanks, Lando,” you took the bundle of flowers from him, opening the door to let him in. His jaw visible dropped when his eyes landed on your body. 

You didn’t notice, busying yourself with placing the bouquet into a vase, the pretty dark red roses adding so much colour to your little apartment. “So,” you said, clapping your hands as if to prompt him to continue and say what he needed to. Surprisingly, his promise hadn’t crossed your mind as the reason he could be here. 

“Remember the promise?” he said, his voice laced with slight disappointment that you’d forgotten. “I hadn’t forgot,” you said quietly, “I didn’t think you’d act on it,”. Lando raised a brow at your words as you walked up the stairs, his body quickly behind you. “I’d be a dick if I didn’t,”. You inhaled sharply as you felt him shut the door, before pressing your body to it, your eyes wide. 

“Lando…” you trailed off, eyes wide. “You don’t have to,”. A sort of scoff left his lips as he watched you, his eyes flickering to your lips every few seconds. “Do you not want me to?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual. “I do,” you said. That was all the confirmation he needed as he slipped your night gown off, his eyes roaming over your lacy bra and shorts. “God you’re so pretty,” he groaned. 

A small blush formed on your face at his appraisal, his eyes taking in your natural beauty. You gasped as his hand tangled into your hair, pulling your head to the side softly to press kisses to your neck. A small whimper left your lips as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands me in to grip yours together, holding your wrists above your head. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he whispered, lifting you into his arms. 

You wrapped your arms round his neck as he lifted you, dropping you onto the bed softly. You landed with a gentle ‘thump’ as he moved to remove his own shirt, your eyes trailing over the small beauty marks across his body. “Like what you see?” he asked smugly, as you shook your head,his cockiness being a defining part of him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook your head as he smirked. Your eyes widened as he grabbed your thighs, his nails digging into your plush flesh softly as he pulled your body to him, your legs instinctively wrapping round his waist. “Needy,” he clucked his tongue, his finger pulling your shorts down as his eyes widened, trailing over the wetness between your legs. 

Immediately, you went shy, squeezing your legs together in embarrassment as he frowned. “No, no, don’t,” Lando said, shaking his head as he forced his hand between your legs. “You’re beautiful,” he hummed, moving to kneel between your legs. A small moan left your lips as he licked a long stripe across your core, his fingers dipping into your heat to tease at your entrance. 

Your back arched slightly as he started to flick his tongue against your bundle of nerves, his finger, still adorned with a ring, pressing to your opening. Your hands gripped at his curls, not hard, but enough to channel the pleasure from his licks. A small gasp left your lips as he pushed his finger in, the coldness of his rings contrasting the heat of your body as he pumped slowly, his middle finger coming to tease beside your index. 

“Lando, feels so good,” you mumbled, his lips slickening as he pressed wet kisses to your core. You moaned as Lando added another finger, sliding his digits in and out of you as his tongue moved, skilled and evidently well experienced. A small whine of protest left your lips as he moved his mouth away, his cheek coated in your wetness as he still slid his finger in and out of you, 

Your body arched towards him as he carried on moving, his other hand coming to unbuckle his trousers. A small gasp left your lips as his cock sprung free against his abdomen, your eyes wide. “Fucking hell,” you gasped, eyes wide at his length. Lando seemed to notice your slight hesitation as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll go soft,” he smiled gently, moving his finger out of you as he ran his tip through your folds a few times, pulling whimpers from your lips as he slickened himself. “Lando!” you squeaked, your nails digging into his biceps as he pushed into you a groan leaving his lips. “That’s it,” he mumbled, “you’re taking it so well, love,”.

A soft moan left your lips as he started rocking gently, your eyes rolling gently. “Such a good strategist, aren’t you?” Lando groaned, his thrusts picking up pace. “Even better beneath me,” his voice was airy and breathy as he carried on, your body rocking with each movement, small moans of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Taking me so well,” he leaned forwards to press wet kisses to your jaw, your hands digging into his back as your legs wrapped round his thigh. “I’m close,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut as you gripped him, desperate to feel your orgasm. A hiss left Lando’s lips as you clenched round him, his hands moving to grip your hair softly. “Thats it,” he panted, his thrusts slamming into your body fast. 

“Should do this before and after every race,” he mumbled, “I’d win every time,”. You gasped as your high washed over you, your hands gripping his arms as he groaned, your movements and the way you clenched round him bringing his own orgasm too. You gasped as you felt his cum shoot in thick hot ropes inside of you as he pulled out slowly. “Let go, baby,” he chuckled, hints of exhaustion in his voice as you clenched round him again. 

Your body calmed from your high as he lifted you to sit on his lap, your eyes wide from rub feeling. “Felt good?” Lando asked, his eyes trained on you as he held you to his chest, grabbing a small towel from the side to wipe your thighs and his own body. “Stay,” you mumbled, gripping his shoulders tightly as he smiled. “I will,” he grinned. 

[luffysinterlude]

★ LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS. . .

summary: in which zoro convinces you to see yourself from his point of view.

warnings: named fem!reader/oc, reader has suicidal thoughts (not too explicit, yet not very subtle), cursing, zoro may be ooc, angst/comfort

word count: 2K+ // slightly edited

an (1): this fic started when i got drunk and wanted to read angst. i revised it so many times and i’m still somewhat unsatisfied (hence the rushed ending) but i really love this oc i created and hope i get to write about her more :3 been feeling a lil sad bc i turned 21 and i’m still somewhat stuck in my life and uuuugh. just need zoro so bad..anyway…I’ll probably do an oc introduction next :p

ZORO thinks you’re the prettiest person in existence. He wishes he could give you his eyes so you could see yourself from his point of view. He watches you as you sit next to Robin: a blanket wrapped around your body, your head leaning on her shoulder as you listen to the conversation she’s having with Franky.

Tonight, something’s different. You don’t have the usual gleam in your eye nor does your laugh echo throughout the Sunny. Instead, your eyes are red and swollen, and you’re quieter than usual — only speaking when you’re spoken to. Your eyes meet Zoro’s for a split second, and understanding flashes in his gaze as he realizes why you’ve been so distant.

You ignore the swordsman’s curious eye, trying to be more interested in the conversation Robin and Franky are having; something about poneglyphs, but you wouldn’t be too sure because your thoughts are louder than their voices, making it hard to focus.

Tonight, everything hits you at once: your past, the present, and the what-ifs. The future remains a distant concept, with its many possible outcomes holding you back.

You think these thoughts that cloud your brain are nothing but selfish. A burning desire of yours is to quietly slip away and let your soul be free from this body and place.

You love the Straw Hats, your captain, and your crewmates. You love the sea and exploring new islands. With every stop, you hope to learn something new to distract yourself from the small part of you that wishes you weren't alive.

But every now and then, it hits you. And you feel like you’re nothing but a waste of space.

Before you realize it, Zoro’s standing next to you, offering his hand. You know the blend of sympathy, disappointment, and sadness on his face. With a deep breath and a small smile to the rest of the crew, you accept it, allowing him to pull your body up and lead you down the corridor.

+x+

Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter turned pirate, was someone you held close to your heart. He was your closest friend, your anchor in times of darkness, and your lover.

He took care of you, even in your absence; he told you that you look out for everyone else that you tend to forget to take care of yourself.

When the crew split up and you had decided to go to Whole Cake Island, Zoro made sure Franky had sent you off with two transponder snails so he could check in on you. He’s still unsure of what happened on the island of sweets, but after your reunion with the rest of the crew he’s noticed the light in your eye had become darker.

He leads you to his room, opening the door for you and placing his swords by the entrance. You take a seat on his bed, a change from your usual behavior of lying down. Your thoughts crowd your mind again as the atmosphere around you grows quieter.

You’re not doing enough. Luffy doesn’t need you, nor do the others; you believe you’re just extra weight they carry because you’re his sister.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You feel the mattress dip as Zoro occupies the space next to you, his body radiating warmth your way. He’s laying down, arms rested behind his head, eyes closed. You stare at the man next to you, taking in his form; despite the number of times he’s smiled in the face of death, scars and stitches scattering his body, you still think he’s the most handsome man on this earth.

“Just been…thinking,” you start. “About everything that’s happened up until now.”

Zoro hums to let you know that he’s listening, a cue for you to continue.

“Nobody on the crew knows this, not even Luffy, but I was there at Marineford.”

This makes Zoro’s eye shoot open, a look of surprise painting his face. As bad as it sounds, he isn’t too interested in learning about where the crew spent the last two years, he’s just glad they all made it back together alive. He knows that you spent time mastering your Haki with your childhood teacher, but that’s all you’ve let the crew know about.

“Grandpa snuck me in disguised as a marine — I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone if I was able to leave quietly. I wanted to see Ace one last time, and he granted me that because he owed me one for keeping an eye on Luffy when we were younger.

I was able to visit his holding cell, and the sight of him…it felt as if I was being punished. Ace was the one person who understood me and how I tend to feel, the one person I shared so much in common with. He was able to find bits and pieces of himself again thanks to the light that shines through Luffy, and when he left us I promised that I’d try and keep him safe despite the distance between us, and hopefully find myself through our crybaby brother as well.”

You’re smiling fondly at the distant memories of you and your brothers, ones that you wished were photographed so you could have physical proof of those events taking place; so even when you’re old and senile you’ll be able to remember them happening.

“Tell me more,” Zoro says. He eyes the spot next to him, and you position yourself to lay there. He allows you to remove his left arm from behind his head to use as a pillow. “Were you safe, at least?”

Of course not. You were infiltrating the World Government, and if you made a tiny mistake, you would’ve been right next to Ace on the execution platform.

“I was — you know I wouldn’t do anything impulsively, unlike some people.” You giggle, remembering the moment Luffy fell from the sky, in the middle of the battlefield. “I ended up being able to sneak away because of him. I found Trafalgar’s submarine and hopped on board and waited…and I can’t help but think that was my biggest mistake, leaving Luffy alone. It’s a heavy guilt that I’ve been carrying.”

Zoro ponders for a moment; it isn’t your weight to carry, he wants to say. Luffy went to Marineford on his own accord, and not every ending is a happy one. He’s also curious about how you were able to find the surgeon and his crew, but that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“And when I felt Shanks’ presence nearby, I asked Law to take me to his ship — which he declined, of course — so I got off and swam there instead. The waters were surprisingly calm, so don’t panic, I’m sure Jinbe wouldn’t have let me get eaten up,” you confess to him, reassuring him that you were safe every step of the way.

You stare at the left side of his face, your arms wrapped around his body as if he was a teddy bear. The blanket you had previously wrapped around your body now covered parts of his, his arm cuddling you close as if you’d ever slip away.

“How’d it go with the redhead?” Zoro asks. His eyes are still closed but you know he’s interested in knowing; asking questions is somewhat his way of begging to know more. He isn’t as stoic as he thinks he is, at least not towards you.

“It was good seeing Shanks again. He was heading to Marineford to end the war, and allowed me to stay and hide with him until Luffy made the decision to reunite in two years. He’s actually the one who took me to my childhood teacher; it took about three weeks after burying Ace and Whitebeard to get there.”

Zoro’s curious about how you handled Ace’s burial, but again, that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“They asked about us. It was different being the one to share experiences about life on the sea; but it was refreshing and fun…I told them all about the crazy stuff we went through, and they let me know about the reputation we’ve built for ourselves. It’s actually kind of cool how many people know of us, but also scary at the same time. It really opened my eyes though; it was probably the first time in a long time that I…” you trail off, repositioning your head to be more comfortable, the hand that lay on Zoro’s chest now tracing lines as you daze off. Sensing that he’s lost you, he opens his eye and nudges you lightly.

“I felt like I had a life purpose again. Gaining the knowledge that a lot of people had their eyes set on us as a team, it made me realize the responsibility I hold. The promises I made to both Ace and Sabo, the ones I made to you and the rest of us, and the promise I made to myself as a child — my ultimate dream: to live a long, fulfilled life.”

“Even though I felt great and motivated after that and even now, the thoughts still linger around. The what-ifs: what if I stayed and attempted to save Ace alongside Luffy? What if I got caught by the Marines? What if the five of you never found me in Loguetown?

It’s a never-ending battle, and I’m getting more tired of myself with every passing day. It’s the reason why even now I exhaust myself mentally and physically, just to escape my thoughts. I guess there must be something happening with the planets for me to experience these feelings right now,” your tone is light, almost playful, yet your words place a heavy weight on him.

You let out a sharp sigh, suddenly turning on your back and staring at the wooden ceiling. You release your Haki to see what the rest of the crew is up to, noticing that some of them have already gone to bed. The only other people awake at the moment are Luffy, Sanji, and Jinbe — sharing a late night snack and a hushed conversation.

“You’re stronger and more resilient than you think,” Zoro states. “As a matter of fact, you’re probably the strongest person I know, both physically and mentally.

You’ve faced nothing but obstacles your entire life, and it makes me wish I had known you when we were younger. You and Kuina would’ve been great friends.” The mention of your lover’s childhood friend makes you smile. He’s only ever confided in you about his upbringing, and you pray to the heavens, hoping that Kuina herself hears you ask for his protection. “I admire you so much.”

And it’s true: Zoro envies how strong you are. He wishes he had unlocked Haki at a young age. He wishes he was as smart as you. There are so many things Zoro admires about you, and he wishes he knew the words to voice it.

“I’m not great with words.” You giggle at his self-awareness but let the laughter die down as he rolls his eye playfully. “But you deserve to be here — alive — regardless of where you came from, what powers and knowledge you possess, and what happened when you were a child. I’ve watched you grow into the person you are today, and it’s been a privilege.

Sometimes, it feels as if I was a saint in my past life to experience this: the open ocean, the different people and places, and you. However you see yourself isn’t how anyone else views you. Chopper looks up to you as a guardian — and despite the small age difference, I’m sure our knucklehead captain does too. Nami, Robin, Usopp, and Franky see you as their sister. I’m sure I heard Jinbe speaking of you like a daughter, and as for the annoying waiter we call a cook, he practically worships the ground you walk on. The skeleton praised you constantly, so I’m not sure how you don’t see the admiration everyone has for you.

You’ve become one of my biggest inspirations. I’ll probably never be in the mood to admit this again, so make sure you’re listening.” He suddenly sits up and rests against the headboard, your movements copying his as he interlocks your hands with his.

He meets your gaze, and you feel like you fall in love with him all over again. He’s looking at you with pure adoration, as if he’s trying to engrave your face into his memory.

Even with tear stains running down your cheeks and puffy eyes, you’re still the prettiest person to exist. Everything about you is perfect, and a demon like me doesn’t even deserve to be in your presence, Zoro thinks.

“The time we spent apart, I took some time to think about our adventures as a crew. I’m not sure if I subconsciously did it because it was a strange feeling being away from you all, or if it was because Perona kept asking too many questions.

After explaining how the ten of us all became a crew, she pointed out that I mentioned you a lot. I didn’t think so at the time, but I guess it’s just something that feels natural to me. What I’m trying to say is…

“I love you. You know this already, but I know sometimes it feels nice to have a verbal reminder. I’m in love with you, and I know I’ll always be. And I’ll help you fight your battles, even when you ask me to give you space. I’ll do anything you want me to, just promise me you’ll let me be there for you. You — in such a short amount of time — have become my greatest weakness.

It hurts when you push yourself away from everyone else, especially me. I know you don’t want to feel like a burden, but you’ll never be one; to me, or the others. Especially to Luffy. Whether you decide to tell him you were there to see Ace, is up to you. I’m positive he won’t react the way you think he would. You’ve always taken on way more than what we ask of you, and applying more pressure to yourself isn’t going to make us look at you any differently. You’re appreciated for all that you do, and will always be.

The only thing I’m asking of you is to take the time and make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Physical battles already take a toll on all of us, and we can always help each other out, but the mental ones we face can only be taken on by ourselves. Even I find it hard to deal with it. But then I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.”

Your jaw is hung open at Zoro’s words; yes, he saves sweet talk for you and you only, but this was an entirely different and unexpected side of him.

You want to cry. You want to kiss him. You want to take all of his pain away and give it to the officials in the World Government. You want to cradle his face in your chest and kiss his cheeks and tell him sweet nothings; yet as you process his words, you sit there in silence.

I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.

Similar to the last words spoken to you by your beloved brother Ace, you feel tears slip out of your eyes and suddenly you’re trapping Zoro in your arms.

“Thank you, Zo.”

The whisper reaches him, and he relaxes comfortably in your embrace. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso. Even though it took a lot of guts to be that vulnerable, his chest feels lighter. With a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, you return the words back to him.

“I love you so much. Thank you for always being there for me. You’re truly one of my anchors in this life.”

+x+

You wake up the next morning alone in bed. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, except this time a note sits on Zoro’s nightstand.

Woke up to Nami banging on the door. Kind of surprised it didn’t wake you up either. Anyway, we’re docked now and Luffy dragged me out with him to explore. The stupid cook and Robin are still here on the ship, so I asked them to ring me when you wake up. If you decide to leave the ship, come find me. If not, then rest and I’ll come back to you later. Love you, Zoro.

You smile at the sloppy handwriting, your mind quickly flashing to last night’s conversation between the two of you. You sit and think about it and come to the conclusion that you no longer doubt yourself. You feel as light as a feather, hopping out of bed and changing into a new outfit for the day. You’re assuming your lover had taken it upon himself to change you, not remembering when you had put your sleeping clothes on.

You waltz into the kitchen, greeted with heart eyes and the smell of coffee.

“Good morning to you, Athena. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, Sanji’s desperately wanting to go pick some things up. Are you feeling better now? Zoro said you were feeling under the weather this morning.” Robin’s gentle voice distracts you from worrying about the amount of blood spilling from Sanji’s nose, a soft smile on her face as you greet her back.

“Good morning! I feel much better now, like I can do anything.” You smile. Sanji’s serving you a plate of breakfast as you sit across from the archaeologist. You start to eat, trying to peek at the newspaper she’s holding in her hand. The headline makes you choke on your food.

“WHAT THE HELL? LUFFY’S AN EMPEROR NOW?!”

Your voice is loud enough that Sanji and Robin are sure the entire island could hear it. Before Sanji’s able to fill you in on what was discussed after you and Zoro went to bed, your shrieks were heard throughout the Sunny.

“WHAAAAAAT?! MY BOUNTY’S AT TEN DIGITS NOW?!”

“Well, you and Zoro missed a lot last night. We’re happy to know that you’re feeling better now though!” Robin says, a closed-eye smile sent your way.

You’re in a state of shock: reading the article that was released less than twenty four hours ago, and you hear Sanji’s tongue click.

“Maybe we should take Athena-swan to Chopper for medicine,” Eyes wide and jaw hung, you nod your head. “And probably look for the embarrassment you call your boyfriend.”

With that, you shove Sanji away from you, standing up quickly and taking hold of Robin’s hand. You grab your bag and walk off the ship with the two of them next to you, feeling thousands times better than last night.

Zoro, you say in your mind. Please don’t be lost. Eh — it’s been hours since they left. He’s definitely lost.

With a new sense of confidence and optimism, you hold your head high and continue your journey in making this a life worth living.

+x+

an (2): ahhhh yes!! athena (reader) is luffy’s sister…i have her while character outline already written. i kinda hate the ending but i also didn’t want to stay stuck on this lil story for too long…but i do want to write more abt our lovely athena and the life she’s willing to live <3

please do leave feedback! it helps me improve :) especially since i’m still learning & getting back into it!!

[hattersarts]

hi! ;_; i come to you seeking wisdom: do you know of any f/f ships featuring mothers/mother figures? I know persephone/nyx or hekate/selene but i was trying to find others and can't think of any. There's no way there's only two. So i thought I'd ask you since it sounds like something you might know about?

Hi!! sorry this took so long to respond, i wrote the answer out once and then my web browser refreshed on me and i lost all my paragraphs 💀💀💀💀💀

Im going to assume you mean strictly mother/mother pairings (i don't know hekate/selene so don't know what those dynamics are)

Emma Swan/Regina Mills (Once Upon a time) These guys were the top f/f ship on ao3 for years for a reason, they literally share a son BUT ARE MORTAL ENEMIES AS DECREED BY A MAGICAL CURSE. AND THEN THEY HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER. the show is often batshit insane but when you get 13K fics that cover a massive range of plots and are so well written i cant complain. s1 is recommended watching to get into the fic but honestly even just the first half of s1 is probably fine and then a plot summary of the rest. Grace Hansen/Frankie Bergstein (Grace & Frankie) i mean am i not supposed to root for the two women who's husbands cheated on them with each other to then get together?? fic pool has a lot of established older writers in it so the quality is so good and grace is the best non-canon comp het character to ever exist (yes even within the the text of the show, some of the things she does are CRAZY) lmao i guess i can also suggest alicent/rhaenyra from House of the Dragon, but the depends on if you enjoy GoT/HotD things (its milfs with shared history i enjoy them a great deal)

I've a few others that are very minor (lol Queen Lillian/Fairy Godmother anyone) but these are the biggest mother/mother pairings that come to mind that have somewhat of a fandom. I've a few that are single mother/single character that have kids as an important part of the ship but not sure if thats what you're looking for.

[amhrosina]

Good Girls Get Rewarded

Summary: Frank gets tired of you running your mouth and decides to remind you who's in charge. Smutty antics follow.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k (holy shit!!!!)

masterlist // join my taglist

a/n: im not ashamed to admit that this fic is the only thing i thought about for three days straight. please enjoy. it is an absolute smut-fest!

warnings: buckle the fuck up bitches, cursing (obvi), all porn no plot, oral (male & fem receiving), fingering, pet names!!!!!, p in v sex, praise kink, size kink a little??, frank is so mean at first lmfao, lots of teasing, spanking, frank gets called sir a lot lmfao, reader is a brat, physical violence (this does not transfer to the smut!!!), i am probably forgetting so many pls let me know what i need to add!

“How’d you get this number?”

Frank’s familiar rasp was even more apparent over the phone, a tingling revelation that sent a shiver up your spine. He was in a sour mood, and you were itching for a fight. It was the perfect way to end your evening.

“Oh, c’mon, Frankie. You know I can get whatever I want whenever I want.”

“How could I forget you’re such a spoiled princess, huh? The fuck you want, princess?”

He spat the last word at you as if it were an insult. Good. He was angry, too.

“Did I catch you at a bad time? I was just admiring these pretty curtains. They designer?”

Annoyed resolve rang through in Frank’s tone as he replied. “You know I don’t know what you’re talking about. You gonna make me ask?”

“Sure, honey. I think you’ll want to know the answer.”

You smirked, eyes roaming the living room you were currently standing in the middle of. If only Frank could see you now.

He huffed. “What curtains?”

“These blue ones in your living room. Did you pick them out, or was it that Karen Page with her over-eagerness to please you?”

“You leave her the fuck out of this.” He paused, and you smirked at yourself in the mirror as the realization of what you’d said was processed fully by Frank. “You’re in my fuckin’ house? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He was already moving. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear the hitches in his breath as he barreled his way across Hell’s Kitchen, you’d know he was coming. Your plan was working. You were ecstatic.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?”

“Clever.” You hummed, running your tongue over your teeth. Since you’d first met Frank, he’d managed to throw a cat pun in your direction during every interaction you’d had. He claimed it was because the newspapers were calling you the Black Cat, but you thought it probably had something to do with the latex suit you wore. He never could keep his eyes off the curve of your hips. “Lazy, but clever, I suppose. I’ll allow it, considering the spontaneity of this phone call.”

“How kind of you.” Frank spat, and you resisted the urge to giggle over the phone. He had to be getting close, now. He’d come bursting through the door at any second. Your muscles were giddy with the thought of finally being challenged.

“You know I love chatting with you, darling, but I’ve got to run. I have a thing. Ta-ta!”

You hung up the phone, placing it on the counter and angling yourself so that you could see the front door. You weren’t exactly sure how angry he’d be that you broke into his house, but you wanted to at least seem like you had the upper hand when he charged through the door. You waited, anticipation building until you could no longer stay still. You began to pace, nervous and giddy at the same time, and of course, if you’d just been a little more patient and quiet, you probably would’ve heard the creak of the window opening behind you.

You didn’t realize Frank Castle was standing directly behind you until you backed into him. Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing exactly who was behind you and how he’d managed to perfectly out-do you in your own plan. The hands around your throat shouldn’t have been a surprise.

“It’s fuckin’ rude to break into people’s houses, princess.”

He pulled your body fully against his, attempting to wrap his arm around your neck from behind to pull you into a chokehold. You were a tricky little kitten, though, and you slipped out of his grasp almost as easily as you’d waltzed through his door earlier. Maybe he let you out. Maybe he was curious about your unprompted visit, too.

“You’re one to talk. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to grab a lady like that?”

He snorted. “Lady? Someone confuse you with someone less bitchy?”

“I’ll have you know, I am perfectly fucking civil to most people.” You assured him, jutting your chin out in defiance.

“We really doing this?” He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. You eyed the movement and shrugged.

“Eat your fuckin’ heart out, honey.”

You both lunged for each other, your leg rising to connect with his stomach before his fist could connect with your face. He sprang back, unharmed but winded, and caught your leg before it could connect with his chest. You were suddenly on your back, having been thrown off balance by Frank, who was pushing most of his weight down on your hips to keep you from thrashing beneath him.

“You’re rusty, kid.” His eyes were bright and fiery, a combination you’d grown accustomed to during these bouts. You brought your forehead to his chin in a headbutt that would’ve knocked anyone else out completely. Frank, unfortunately, was just dazed for a moment, blinking the confusion out of his eyes before you could make much leeway against his ridiculously strong hold on your hips.

You were, however, able to wiggle one of your legs out from underneath him, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull Frank into an armbar.

“You’re old.” You smirked. Old or not, the best thing about fighting Frank was how incredibly resilient he was. No matter who ended up on top at the end of the night, your pent-up energy was always spent.

He resisted the pull into your hold, though the only other direction for him to go was on top of you. Your breath rushed out of you as he landed directly on top of your lungs, your grip on his arm loosening enough for him to roll away from you.

“Real cute, princess. You break into my house, and now you’re trying to what? Hurt me?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you coughed and remained on his kitchen floor. He really had landed hard, but you were playing the long game. “Good fucking luck. I’m not an idiot, in case you were wondering. You can stop the act.”

“You sure about that?” You rolled to your feet, pulling your hands into fists and holding them up to block your face. He rolled his eyes again, and even though he looked relaxed - unready, even - he caught your fist before it could connect with his jaw.

“You learn that on TV, princess?”

Your brow furrowed in anger. He was annoyingly good at reading your body language now.

“Actually,” you smiled up at him, face so close to his chest that you could nearly feel his thundering heartbeat, “I learned it from your mom.” You punctuated your insult with a swift knee to Frank’s groin. “I win.”

He hunched forward and you let him fall to his knees on the linoleum flooring. It was a low blow, but you weren’t in the mood to fight fair. He never did, anyway. You pushed yourself onto the counter, watching him breathe through the worst of the pain. You were an asshole, sure, but you weren’t the type to kick a man when he was down.

“You’re a fucking menace.” He grunted, nostrils flaring with anger when he took in your relaxed posture on the counter.

“Oh, please, Frank. It’s not like you fuckin’ use the thing.” You rolled your eyes, flipping your hand through the air in the universal sign for “whatever”.

His gaze shifted from anger to something you couldn’t quite place. You’d seen the look on his face before, but you’d never been able to figure out exactly what he was thinking during those moments. He tilted his head and rose to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on your face. Predator stalking prey. Goosebumps broke out on your skin.

“What was that, princess?” He stalked closer to you, and you were suddenly very aware how cornered you were in this position. To make a hasty escape you’d somehow have to catapult yourself over Frank’s shoulder or burst through what you guessed was a solid block of drywall beside you.

You swallowed thickly. “I said, it’s not like you use the thing.”

Frank’s eyes were bright with delight. Coupled with the teasing smile on his face and the slight tilt of his head, you were a little frightened.

“And you’d know that, how?” He taunted, stepping closer to you. He was in your space now, close enough to touch.

“I know a lot of things, Frankie.” You desperately grasped at the semblance of control you had left. “I know where you live, I know what you order every morning from that diner around the corner, and I know for sure that you. Don’t. Fuck.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank was leaning on the counter now, hands pressed into the granite on either side of your hips. “You think I can’t handle myself in bed, princess? Wanna try it out for yourself?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

You didn’t know why you’d said it, or where it came from. Frank Castle was not the man to play games with, especially not these types of games. In actuality, you had no idea who the man was fucking or how often it was happening. You hadn’t expected him to rise to the challenge when you’d teased him about it.

“Is that right, princess?” His eyes gleamed with desire, and you finally realized what the look on his face meant. “Wanna bet?”

He pressed himself fully against you, the hardness of him apparent through his jeans. Your breath hitched against the column of your throat, and you swallowed thickly. You couldn’t deny the steady pounding between your legs, and you slightly widened your legs to allow him more room.

“Yes or no, princess? Wanna learn a thing or two?” His lips ghosted over yours, tongue darting out to lightly lick your top lip in a teasing, playful motion.

Your expectations for the night had been drastically different than this. You’d planned on a physical fight, maybe a black eye or two, and a slew of insults that you’d giggle about until you saw him again. You had not been expecting…this. Whatever this is. They probably existed, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why this might be a bad idea, so you leaned into the feeling that had been steadily growing in your core, and slammed your lips against his.

He groaned, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth in a desperate, aching kiss. Your teeth clashed against his, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“Fuck, princess.” He mumbled against your lips, angling your chin so that he could pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your throat. You panted, pawing at his shoulders as he nipped the sensitive skin below your ear. “You gonna be good for me?”

“I’m not good for anyone.” You tried and failed to sound feisty. Instead, it came out in a mixture of a whine and a moan.

“You can be good for me, kitten. I won’t tell anyone.” His hands ghosted over the bottom of your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He didn’t lift it up yet, and he probably wouldn’t, you realized, until you offered him some kind of consent.

“Only if you ask nicely.” You teased, brushing your lips over his jaw.

He snorted. “That ain’t happenin’.”

A feline grin made its way across your face. “I know.”

He gripped your jaw tightly, forcing you to look up at him as he leaned in close and whispered, “You’re going to be good for me, you fucking brat. Don’t make me say it again.”

Warm delight flooded your stomach, and even though it went against what you believed in, you nodded. You couldn’t think of a single thing you would rather be doing.

“Good girls get rewarded, kitten.” He adjusted his grip on your jaw, sliding his fingers further down your neck. He toyed with the hem of your shirt again, tugging it slightly so that you arched into his chest. “Can I take this off, sweet girl, hmm?” He hummed, running his tongue across your bottom lip.

You nodded again, and the hand around your neck flexed with displeasure.

“I kiss you for thirty seconds and your big mouth suddenly knows how to shut up?” He pinched your hip, eliciting a yelp from your unassuming mouth.

“Fuck yo-”

“Careful.” He warned, arching an eyebrow at you. “Use your words, kitten. I know you know how to be sweet. Be sweet to me.” His lips ghosted over yours, breath fanning across your flushed cheeks. “Can. I. Take. This. Off?” He punctuated each word with a slight squeeze of his hand, still wrapped around your throat.

“Yes.” You breathed, dipping your chin in a single nod.

“Yes…?” He cooed, close enough for you to see the amusement glittering in his eyes. The fucker was enjoying this entirely too much. Still, your core hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d cornered you, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t incredibly turned on by this, by him. You gave in to his question, as much as it hurt your stubborn heart to do so.

“Yes, sir.” You clenched your teeth around the word ‘sir’.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Or should I call you master? Or daddy? Or maybe punisher? You gonna punish me, dadd-”

His hand clamped over your mouth, cutting you off before you could continue.

“Shut the fuck up. You just can’t help yourself, can you? You’re such a fucking brat.” He pulled your hips flush against his, and you bit your lip to stifle the moan making its way up your throat. He leaned in, centimeters away from your lips as he whispered, “You want to be punished, kitten, hmm? I can do that.”

You were suddenly pulled off the counter and roughly thrown over Frank’s shoulder. The swiftness in his movements made you yelp, anger coursing through your blood at his man-handling.

“Fuck you, Frank.” You gritted your teeth.

His only response was a swift slap to your backside, which was nestled directly over his shoulder.

“You can’t just throw me around like a doll!” You protested, though you did nothing to try and wiggle your way out of his grasp. The man-handling was making you a little hot and bothered, but you wouldn’t be admitting that anytime soon.

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” He grunted as he threw you down on his bed, grasping your legs and pulling you down the mattress until he was towering over you again. He brushed your hair out of your face, a gentle gesture that juxtaposed the usual ferocity of your meetings. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, and before you could think twice about it, you opened your mouth and began sucking on it. A grunt, a smirk, the subtle desire lurking behind his intense gaze - all of it was incredibly sensual. “Should’ve known the sweetness wouldn’t last. You’re a brat, through and through, kitten.” You replaced the sweet caress of your tongue around his finger with your teeth, softly biting down on the tip of his thumb in response.

“I like it though.” He mumbled quietly, more to himself than to you. His gaze coasted down your body, catching on the swell of your breasts and the curve of your hips. He looked back at you, having come to a silent decision. “I’m gonna give you another chance, kitten. Does that sound okay, baby, hmm? I want to make you feel good, alright? All you have to do is be good. That’s it. Can you do that for me? Can you be good for me?”

You blinked up at him, his frame so wide above you that it was almost sinful.

“I can be good for you.” You responded slowly, relinquishing your hold on his thumb. He quirked an eyebrow at you, and you quickly added, “I can be good for you, sir.”

His cheeks widened into a smirk.

“You’re already doing so well, sweetheart.” He praised, running his hands along your sides until they met the bottom of your shirt. You arched into him as he pulled the fabric over your head, relishing the gentleness of his touch while simultaneously missing the roughness from before.

He slid the tip of his tongue from your navel to the valley between your breasts, tugging on the thin material of your bra with his teeth. His breath fanned across your chest, bringing a renewed sense of urgency to your aching core.

“Frank.” You whined, pawing at his shoulders and attempting to pull him fully against you. He barely budged, instead choosing to narrow his focus onto your pebbled nipples.

“What is it, kitten, hmm?” He pressed a soft kiss to your nipple. It was through your bra, but it might as well have been to your bare breast, because the rippling heat that washed through your body elicited a breathy moan from your throat.

“I need- I mean, I want- Can you-” The warmth from his mouth around your nipple was scrambling your brain, and you couldn’t begin to function as his fingers began sliding your pants down your legs.

“You need somethin’, sweetheart?” He was teasing you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to stay silent about it.

“Quit teasing me.” You whined, and his hands halted midway down your thighs.

“You think you have any control over this right now?” He chuckled, yanking your pants down your legs in one swift motion. “I haven’t forgotten how bratty you were earlier. You keep this up and you’ll be lucky if I let you come at all, sweetheart, and it’d do you good to remember that.”

Desire sparked deep in your core at his tone, and a devilish smile made its way to your face. He eyed you warily.

“Don’t do whatever you’re thinking about doing.” He warned, returning his attention to your breasts. “Behave. Can you do that for me?”

“Can you?”

The words were out before you could stop yourself. It was just so easy to talk back to him. He brought his teeth down around your nipple, biting hard enough to bruise.

“Brat.” He grunted, pushing himself off the bed completely. You whined at the loss of contact, but it quickly turned into a moan when Frank’s rough hands flipped you onto your stomach and slapped your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“You’ll learn to be good.” One hand held your squirming form beneath him while the other came down in another harsh slap. “I’ll fuckin’ teach you if I have to.”

You moaned, louder and louder with every slap. Sure, you were a menace to the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and, likely, Frank Castle, but you never knew being bad could feel this good. Frank hoisted you up against him, roughly pressing your back into his chest.

“You’ll submit.” He whispered, nipping at the exposed skin on your neck. “I’ll make you. I dare you to try and stop me.”

He shoved you off of him, pulling his shirt over his head as you flopped down on the mattress. You tried to crawl further up the bed, but his hand clamped around your ankle and tugged you onto your stomach again. The position gave him a perfect view of your clothed cunt, which was thoroughly soaked in its current state.

“This underwear is pretty, baby.” He mumbled, running his fingers over the damp cotton. You squirmed beneath his touch, moaning as his fingers brushed against the part of you that needed him the most. “You wear these just for me?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, arching your back even more to give him a better view.

“Turn over, baby.” He instructed, gently prodding at your hips. You flipped over, splaying yourself out beneath his standing form, panting. “You’re good when you want something, aren’t you?”

“Who says I want something?”

Jesus. Christ. You really couldn’t help yourself. You sighed in disbelief at your own attitude. At this rate, he’d never let you come.

“Watch it.” He brought his hand down, slapping your clothed cunt in warning. You felt yourself clench around nothing, dying to be touched by him again. “You look delicious like this, kitten. I’m dying for a taste.”

His eyes flicked up to yours in question. Even after everything, he still wanted your consent before he crossed the next line. You nodded, and then winced as his eyebrows shot into his hairline and he brought his hand down in a harsh slap, connecting with your pussy again. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, please, sir. Please taste me.” You corrected yourself, widening your legs.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” He sank to his knees, grinning. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, which surely would’ve gotten you another punishment, and tried to relax against the mattress.

“Look how pretty you are when you’re behaving.” He hummed, breath fanning over the soaked fabric. You whined as your pussy fluttered at his praise. He pressed a soft kiss to your mound, still refusing to remove the fabric simply because he knew it was driving you crazy. “You like it when I compliment you, kitten? Look at how wet you are, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, swallowing hard. You were so turned on it was starting to hurt, but you knew if you complained he would stretch the process out even further. Instead, you leaned into the praise and hoped he’d give in soon. “I’m being good, right, sir?” You asked, legs trembling with anticipation. He kissed your mound again, eliciting a groan from deep within you.

“Yes, kitten.” He smiled against your pussy. “And good girls get rewarded. Right, baby? Hmm?”

You moaned loudly as he hummed against your wet core. “Yes! Yes, please.” You nearly screamed out.

And finally, finally, he pulled your panties down your legs, discarding them in his back pocket. He briefly sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, taking in the sight before him. You were glistening with wetness - so turned on from his words alone that you could quench his thirst for a year with the amount of arousal leaking from your cunt. He grunted, slowly remembering the game he was supposed to be playing with you.

And you tensed, noticing all of this. You may not know a lot about a lot of things, but you knew Frank Castle, and you knew how to read him. You knew exactly what he’d been thinking. For a second, you had forgotten that this was all one giant game to him. He didn’t miss the way your demeanor changed. His eyes slid to yours in question.

“What is it, honey?” He asked, voice still dripping with lust but also with genuine concern.

“I just-” You struggled to find the words, and then tried to sweep the entire interaction under the rug. You wanted his tongue on you, now.  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Lying ain’t something good girls do.” He arched an eyebrow at you. You whined, pressing your head into the mattress.

“Is this a one time thing for you?” You asked, refusing to meet his eyes as you did so. It would be pretty embarrassing to be sent home in your current state - needy and wet - but not the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. You would not torture yourself by watching his eyes go from lusty to their usual cold demeanor.

“What do you mean?” He asked, running his thumbs over your hip bones.

“I mean,” you huffed, sitting up on your elbows and forcing yourself to look at him, “Will you call me after this?”

Frank’s face morphed into an understanding smirk. “Are you asking me to?”

You glared at him. He pinched your sides again. You rolled your eyes. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll call.” He said, and then his tongue was swiping through your folds, and you couldn’t do anything but flop back onto the mattress again and groan.

He lapped up the arousal that had been leaking out of you since he’d arrived earlier before focusing his efforts on your clit. His tongue drew figure-eights around your clit, sending shocking waves of pleasure through your body, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you were sure you’d died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so pretty.” Frank mumbled against your clit, sending a new spark of pleasure through you. “It pisses me off how pretty you are.”

“Please don’t stop.” You begged, legs shaking as you wrapped them around his head. His hand, which had been trailing closer and closer to your entrance, finally found its home, buried deep in your pussy. He pumped two fingers in and out of you, all the while sucking on your clit and going back and forth between praising and degrading you. You weren’t sure which direction was up.

“You just show up looking like a fucking goddess,” he punctuated the word with a harsh suck to your clit, “and expect me not to fuck you, princess? You’re begging to be fucked in those tight pants.”

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, sucking at your clit with more ferocity than you thought he was capable of. You were sobbing now, so close to the edge that you couldn’t stop the tears flowing down your temples and onto the comforter beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking brat sometimes, fuck.” He grunted. “But you’re so god damn pretty when you misbehave. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Frankie.” You sobbed, moaning as he sucked on your clit again.

“You wanna come, baby, hmm?” He cooed. “Only good girls get to come, kitten. You think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes! Yes, sir!” You practically screamed it, your entire body shaking with anticipation of your release. “Please let me come, sir.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely, honey.” He shrugged before attacking your clit with his tongue again.

You erupted beneath him, coming so hard your vision blacked out. You could vaguely feel Frank holding your hips in place, but your body was mostly one spark of pleasure after another. Your heart thundered in your chest, mimicking the pounding in your core. Frank squeezed your thighs hard enough to bruise, lapping up every drop of your release, but you were so far gone you barely registered it.

You eventually returned to your body - sweaty, panting, and thoroughly taken care of. Frank was smirking, pressing soft kisses into your skin.

“See what happens when you’re not a brat?” He teased, kissing the valley between your breasts. “Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been so good for me, kitten.”

“What’s my reward?” You gasped, still a bit hazy from your orgasm.

“What do you want it to be?” He nipped at your jaw, trading between soft kisses and little bites that were sure to leave marks.

“I want to-”

His phone began ringing in his pocket, a sharp and alarming ring that startled both of you out of your hazes. He reached into his pocket and cringed when he saw who it was.

“Who is it?” You asked, curious.

He flipped the phone around for you to see, and you immediately tensed up. Motherfucking Karen Page was calling Frank, and he looked like he wanted to answer it. Your haze was gone now - long gone - and you suddenly felt like crying.

“Answer it.” You taunted, though you thought you might really start to cry if he did.

“I don’t think I’m going to.” He responded, watching you carefully.

“No, really,” you said, attempting to sit up, “She might need saving, again.”

It was a low blow, and you both knew it. It wasn’t Karen’s fault that she wasn’t skilled in hand-t0-hand combat. There was a pattern, though, and no matter how many times she got herself into trouble, Frank and/or Matt were always there to save her.

“Watch your mouth.” He blocked your attempt to sit up, shifting his weight so that he was fully hovering over you. He silenced his phone and slid it into his pocket. “You’re being a brat again.”

Hot, shameful tears welled in your eyes.

“I’m not trying to be one. This is my personality.”

“Crying after the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever had?”

“No.” You mumbled, though you couldn’t stop the sneaking smile from forming on your face.

“You’re pretty when you smile.” He said, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“Careful, Frank.” You murmured. “It almost sounds like you care.”

He nipped at your neck, an already sensitive area, and you groaned against him.

“I do.” He said genuinely, pulling back to make eye contact with you. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that right now, princess. You’re about to be so cockdrunk that you won’t be able to see straight for a week.” Your pussy clenched as he grinded against you, the denim of his jeans rubbing against your sensitive clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your stomach for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“What about my reward?” You hummed, wiping stray tears away. “I still get that, right?”

“How could I forget?” He mumbled, nipping at the marked skin around your breasts. “Princess wants her reward. What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want to suck your cock.” You said, straight-faced and innocent, blinking up at him with such softness that he looked on the verge of tears. “Sorry.” You mumbled, correcting yourself before he could, “I want to suck your cock, sir.”

“You’re a fucking angel.” He grunted, pushing himself off the bed and into a standing position again. You followed, reaching for his jeans. He grabbed your hands, briefly stopping them from tearing his jeans off.

“Are you sure you want this, princess? A reward is supposed to be about you.”

You sort of liked the way he called you princess now. Before, when it had been fist fights and anger, it sounded like an insult. But now, the gentle cadence he said it with made your heart clench in your chest.

“I want to.” You nodded, and smiled up at him. “Can I, please?”

He undid his belt with one hand, bringing the other up to cradle your jaw. His hand was massive on your face and neck, a reminder of how insanely large the man standing in front of you was.

“When you look at me like that,” he started, biting his lower lip and slightly shaking his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “I forget how fucking bratty you are. I just want to corrupt the innocent little smile of yours.”

“I come pre-corrupted.” You grinned, the feline smile returning to your face as you looked up at him. “But you’re more than welcome to try.”

You tugged at his boxers, revealing his achingly hard cock. Sucking in a breath, you tried to imagine all of it fitting inside you as he stepped out of the boxers. Your mouth watered when he stroked himself a few times, smearing the precum across the tip of his dick.

“You realize I can’t let another man touch you after this, right?” He asked, eyeing the way your tongue slid across your bottom lip. He shrugged. “You’ll never want another man, anyways.”

“You sound so sure of that.” You murmured, not fully comprehending the words coming out of your mouth. You flicked your eyes up, briefly meeting his gaze before returning to the matter at hand.

“That sort of sounds like that attitude that keeps getting you in trouble, princess.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You quickly rewound the conversation, blinking out of your cock-drunk haze.

“No. No, sir.” You shook your head, desperate to get your mouth on him. “Can I? Please?”

“That’s what I thought, baby.” He murmured, tucking your hair behind your ears. His hands traveled around your head, pulling your hair into a ponytail at the base of your neck. You slid off the end of the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Go ahead, sweet girl.”

You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and kissed the tip. He let out a slow breath as you grew bolder with your mouth. His salty pre-cum smeared across your lips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging your tongue through it. He groaned, tightening his hold on your hair.

“I want you to fuck my throat, sir.” You murmured, looking up at him.

“You keep looking at me like that, I ain’t fuckin’ anything. Those fuckin’ eyes of yours are gonna be the death of me.”

“Didn’t realize you were so quick to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” He warned, arching an eyebrow at you. You grinned, stifling a giggle before wrapping your lips around him again. You pushed your head further and further down his cock, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you went. When your nose brushed against his pubic bone, he let out a stunted moan, slightly thrusting into your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you bobbed your head up and down with more fervor, begging him to fuck your mouth harder and faster.

“You look, fuck-” He couldn’t stop himself from groaning, which spurred your movements on even more. “You look fucking amazing like this, princess.”

You hummed with acknowledgment, hoping it was enough for him to keep thrusting into your throat. Tears freely streamed down your cheeks, surely smudging the eye makeup you’d put on before you left your apartment earlier that night, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Frank Castle was sliding his dick down your throat, and you were so turned on you could probably come just thinking about it.

Frank suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a trail of spit connecting your lips to him as he panted. “‘m gonna come if you keep doing that.” He explained when he noticed your furrowed eyebrows.

“Want it.” You breathed, reaching for him again. He instead pulled you to your feet in front of him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Another time, princess. The first time you make me come, I want it to be in your sweet little pussy.” He winked. “But don’t think I haven’t noticed how good you’re being.”

He pulled you into a kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth. You groaned at both the praise and the intensity in which he kissed you. Both set your insides on fire. He led you backwards until your legs hit the bed, and you couldn't help but nip at his bottom lip when he tried to pull his head back.

“Good girls don’t do that.” He smirked, pushing you lightly so that you’d flop onto the bed again. He ran a hand over your cheek, smudging your makeup even more before running two fingers along your bottom lip. You caught on, slowly wrapping your lips around his fingers and lightly sucking. “You’re not good, though, are you, princess?”

You shook your head. His eyes had darkened again, sending a familiar pounding to your core. Your legs trembled as he began to inch his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“You can be.” His voice had lowered considerably, barely above a raspy whisper. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, princess. I won’t tell anyone.”

You whimpered, sliding your tongue around his fingers. Your skin was on fire, and the longer he stood there staring at you with those lusty eyes, the wetter you became.

“Can I fuck you now, princess?” He asked, transfixed on the fingers he was sliding in and out of your mouth. “You gonna be a good girl and let me ruin you?”

He pulled his fingers from between your lips, gripping your jaw tightly. He watched you, waiting for a response. You almost nodded, making the same mistake you’d made countless times already, but caught yourself at the last second.

“Yes.” You said, swallowing. “Yes, sir.”

“Lay back, princess. I’ll take good care of you.”

You laid back and widened your legs for him, noticing the twinkle in his eyes as you complied with his demand. If you were in your right mind, you might’ve said something witty or bratty to him about it, but he was towering over you, cock hard and ready to fuck you into oblivion, and you wanted him so badly. You groaned when he began running his fingers through your slick folds, already trembling.

“This all for me?” He asked, circling your clit once, twice.

You nodded, forgetting yourself for a moment, and yelped when his hand smacked your bare pussy. It didn’t hurt. In fact, you felt your pussy spasm in response, but you’d been so lost in how great his touch felt that you hadn’t realized you’d broken a rule.

“This all for me?” He asked again, rubbing your clit roughly with the heel of his hand.

“Yes! Yes, sir!” You whimpered, legs trembling when you felt the heavy weight of his cock resting on your pussy. He used it to slap the slickness a few times, eliciting a whine from deep in your chest. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you might actually die.

“Who does this belong to, baby? Whose sweet pussy is this?” He asked, smacking your pussy with his cock again.

You froze, knowing the answer he was looking for, but wondering if you wanted to lower yourself to that level. It was vulnerable to give yourself over to Frank this way, but it also wasn’t as terrifying as you thought it would be.

“Say it.” He encouraged, sliding his cock through your slick folds. “Submit, princess. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Is that a promise?” You taunted, trying not to groan at the friction against your clit.

“Quit being a fucking brat.” He grunted, lining himself up with your entrance. “Say it.”

“Yours. It’s yours, sir.” You whispered, and he buried himself deep inside you.

All the gentleness you’d experienced leading up to that moment was gone, and you couldn’t do anything but cling to Frank’s shoulders as he obliterated you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart.” He hovered over you, kissing, sucking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He was marking you everywhere - you didn’t miss the implications of that - and barreling into you over and over again.

“Say it again, baby.” He whimpered in your ear, the closest you’d ever come to hearing Frank beg. “Who does this sweet pussy belong to?”

“You, sir. It’s all yours.” You replied instantly, whining as he angled himself and pistoned deeper into you. You could barely think straight, only aware of where your skin ended and Frank’s began. “Fuck, Frank. Sir. I’m fu-” You panted, whimpering, “I’m close. ‘m gonna-”

“You look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured, ghosting his lips over your jaw as he pressed kisses to and nipped at your throat. “Cock drunk and needy. You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Sir, can I-” You shuttered when you felt his hand on your clit again, teasing it with rough, slow circles. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth, baby.” He grinned, skimming his teeth along your jawline. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He punctuated the word ‘crazy’ with a deep thrust, pressing against the spongy spot deep inside you that would send you reeling. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you trembled around him. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

“You wanna come, princess?” He cooed, biting the sensitive skin on your throat and kissing the sting away.

“Please.” You gasped. It was the only thing you were capable of saying. You barely registered that you’d forgotten to call him sir, but he was so transfixed with the sounds you were making that he didn’t mention it.

“Princess gets what princess wants.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you steady as he pistoned into you at an indescribable pace. You fell apart beneath him for the second time that night, arching and panting and whining as you fluttered around him. He attacked your throat, jaw, and lips with kisses, licking and nipping at your skin.

“That’s it, baby.” He talked you through the overwhelming pleasure, holding you tightly against his chest as he continued to thrust into you. “You were such a good girl, honey. You did so good.”

You whined, fluttering around him at the praise. “I want another reward.”

In any other circumstance, your demand would’ve pissed Frank off, but you just looked so pretty underneath him. “Oh, is that so?” He asked, eyebrows raising. Amusement rang in his tone, and it emboldened you to keep speaking.

“Yeah.” You gulped, still shaking from your orgasm. “I already know what I want.”

“You’re sounding more and more like the brat I just fucked silly.” He said, gently thrusting into you. “Spit it out, baby. What do you want?”

You swallowed, smiling a little. “I want you to fill me up, sir.”

He paused, pressing his forehead to your shoulder and huffing a laugh. His warm breath sent goosebumps skittering across your skin. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.” He mumbled, kissing you sweetly.

“I was good, wasn’t I?” You feigned innocence, knowing it would send him closer to his relief. “And good girls get rewarded?”

“Yeah, baby.” He nodded, picking up the pace of his thrusts again. “Good girls get rewarded, and you were the best girl, baby.” He leaned into your hold, lips ghosting over the crest of your ear as he whispered, “I’m gonna fill you up, baby, and you’re going to walk around dripping into your pretty little panties all day tomorrow.”

You eagerly nodded, agreeing with him, and whimpered when he began thrusting into you at a relentless pace. You arched into him, nipping at his throat hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re perfect, baby.” He breathed. “Even when you’re being a brat. Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

His thrusts grew sloppier, his breaths coming in short, stunted grunts as he finally let himself go. His heart thundered in his chest, and you clung to him, kissing across the broad expanse of his body until he nearly fell on top of you in trembles.

You cradled his head against your chest, breathing in unison with him. At some point, his arms had wound around you, which meant you were now wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs tangled together as both of you came down from your highs.

“Holy shit.” Frank said, chuckling. “That is not what I was expecting when you called.”

“You gonna kick me out now?” You asked, half-joking. He tensed against you, lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Don’t be a brat.” He nipped at your skin. “I’m not kicking you out, unless you want to leave.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, sighing deeply. “Of course I want you to stay. I’m a fuckin’ gentleman, kitten.”

You scoffed, though you could feel yourself hiding a smile. “Whoever told you that clearly hasn’t heard you in the bedroom.”

He scoffed in mock-offense. “Are you saying you didn’t have a perfectly nice time just now?”

“I did.” You grinned. “I’m…sorry I said you weren’t good in the sack.”

He looked up, stunned. “Did the Black Cat just apologize? To me?”

You rolled your eyes, huffing. “Yeah, but no one would believe you if you told them.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough, princess.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you need to admit to me that I’m incredible in bed and that you were wrong.” He was grinning so wide you had to resist the urge to punch him in his stupid, handsome mouth.

“I’m not doing that.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh.

“Do it.” He murmured, nodding.

“I refuse.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

You were both grinning at each other now.

“You’re such a brat.” He said.

“That’s what got us into this mess.” You countered.

“Just say it, princess. For me?” He pleaded. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Fine.” You gave in, rolling your eyes. “Frank Castle, you’re a sex God!”

He chuckled, pulling you tightly into his chest.

“Good girl.” He praised, kissing you softly.

“Do I get a reward?” You arched an eyebrow at him, smirking.

He smirked back, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh yeah, princess. Good girls get rewarded, remember?”

Tag List:

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

relax

Summary: Frankie knows just the thing to make you forget about your shitty workweek and make you excited for your honeymoon. And it's not just the glass of wine he is offering....

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, toxic work environment, Frankie being the best hubby, nakedness, teasing, flirting, banter, alcohol, spitting, smut (oral f receiving)

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You released a long sigh after you parked your car behind Frankie’s in the driveway, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your seat, your eyes closing as you took a deep breath. 

Home at last. 

It had been a very busy week at work. Which could have to do with the fact that you now officially had a whole week off and the head of your department made you feel like taking a whole week off was an attack against him personally so he had you working overtime and made sure to call you out at every chance he got about the audacity of taking days off. 

You should really quit your job. 

You had joked to Frankie about selling pictures of your feet instead, but the longer you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. 

He did tell you you had pretty feet….

Shaking your head you opened your eyes. 

It was very not feminist of you to dream about being a stay at home wife and mom and not having to bother with work. But god did you wish for exactly that.

But all of this would be a problem for after vacation you. In twenty four hours you would be on a plane to Hawaii on the honeymoon you had been looking forward to ever since you married your husband almost nine months ago. 

The wedding had been a small spontaneous affair, so Frankie and you had decided to save up for a big and luxurious honeymoon.

Getting out of the car you immediately got out of your heels, bending down to pick them up before you made your way towards the front door. 

The house was a work in process. Both you and Frankie enjoyed spending your free time working on slowly finishing up your forever home.

You unlocked the door, your shoulders immediately relaxing as you stepped inside. You could hear music coming from further inside the house, and if you had to guess, you’d think that Frankie was in the kitchen. Something you confirmed as you walked deeper into your house as your nose inhaled the scent of garlic and tomatoes and herbs. 

Frankie had cooked dinner the whole week, his work times more flexible, perks of being his own boss. Him and Will had opened a gym in the last year which was gaining more and more members. A joint effort of them being good at their jobs, and their office manager/ social media person posting thirst traps of all the Delta guys working out to the gym’s instagram account. 

You watched your husband for a couple of moments, his broad back towards you. You could see that his hair was still wet, dome drops of water having dropped to his shoulders, darkening the fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing. 

He was so damn attractive. You still asked yourself, how a man like him ended up not only choosing your but loving you so deeply, you sometimes did not know how you deserved it. 

„Honey I’m home,“ you smiled as you walked towards him, pressing your chest against his back, your arms wrapping around him as you took a deep breath, inhaling his fresh scent. 

„Finally,“ he said and you smiled before he turned in your arms and pulled you against his chest. 

„Hi,“ you smiled sleepily up at him and he smiled back. 

„Hi,“ he kissed you softly. 

„Good timing. Another ten minutes and I would have come and got you,“ he whispered and you smiled, your chin resting against his chest as you looked up at him. 

„Would have loved to see that. Bet my boss would not dare to talk to you like he did to me,“ you sighed and he frowned. 

„He’s still being an asshole?“ He asked and you just shrugged. 

„When isn’t he?“ You asked and Frankie shook his head before he kissed your forehead. 

„But now you’re free for a whole 9 days. And I am gonna make sure my wife is gonna do nothing but relax,“ he promised and you smiled. 

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded. 

„Starting with dinner. Then I’m gonna run you a bath while I finish packing our suitcases and then I’m gonna eat your little pussy until you pass out and fall asleep,“ he winked and you raised your eyebrows in interest. 

„Seems like you got it all planned out, huh?“ You grinned and he nodded, before his lips found yours again. 

„Been thinking about it all day,“ he mumbled, slowly kissing down your jaw, his hands both running down your body until both of them rested on your ass, pushing you against him and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you.  

„How I’m gonna make you sit in the armchair in the bedroom,“ he mumbled in between kisses.

„How I’m gonna make out with your perfect little pussy until the asshole who moved in next door can hear you screaming my name while I make you cum over,“ he bit softly into your neck, „and over,“ he moved his hips, „and over,“ he bit again and you gasped, already dripping into your panties. 

„But first,“ he hummed before he looked at you with a grin, „we gonna have dinner,“ he slapped your ass and took a step back to finish cooking and you groaned loudly, hearing him snicker. 

„Mean,“ you pouted and he turned his head to look at you. 

„You love it,“ he winked and you sighed before a small smile formed on your face and you stepped closer to him, getting on your tiptoes. 

„Payback is a bitch, Morales,“ you hummed against his ear, one of your hands running up his thigh, before you softly squeezed his half hard cock through his sweatpants. 

He turned his head to look at you. 

„Bring it on, Morales,“ he winked. 

You could hear him humming in the bedroom next door, having just gotten out of the bathtub feeling more relaxed then you had in a while. Setting your glass of wine down on the sink you reached for your body lotion, beginning to rub it into your skin. 

You were glad you had scheduled a waxing appointment on the last weekend, leaving your skin super soft as your fingers rubbed over it. 

When you were finished you eyed your robe hanging at the door, before a small smirk sneaked to your face. Grabbing the wine glass you made your way towards the bedroom, deciding to find out how your husband would react if he found you waiting all naked for him. 

Leaning in the door you watched him kneel on the ground in front of both of your suitcases which had been packed to military precision. You did not even bother to try to pack your suitcase anymore, knowing Frankie was doing a way better job anyway.

Letting your head fall against the door as you watched him you smiled. 

„You enjoyed your bath?“ He asked, having noticed but not seen you. 

„Very. I feel refreshed and very relaxed,“ you hummed, taking another sip from your glass of wine. 

„Perfect. And great timing. I finished packing so we can enjoy our evening and get to….“ The rest of his sentence died on his lips as his head turned over his shoulder to look at you, eyes widening when he saw you waiting for him, completely naked. 

„What are we going to do baby?“ You teased with a grin and he groaned, before he turned around, still on his knees. 

„I know what I am going to do,“ he said, his voice hoarse.

Licking your lips, your bit into your bottom lip, before you slowly walked over to one of the armchairs that were sitting in front of the window, sitting down. 

Crossing your legs you gave him a coy smile. 

„And what are you going to do?“ You asked.

„Worship the woman that I love,“ he said before he made his way towards you, on his knees. If you wouldn’t already be naked, his eyes would have undressed you, his fingertips drawing a line up your leg as he reached you, leaving goosebumps all over you. 

He kissed you knee as he knelt at your feet, before he slowly uncrossed your legs and parted them so he could sit down between them. His eyes never left yours as he slowly kissed up your inner thigh, humming against your skin. He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, inhaling you deeply when his nose brushed over your clit. 

You were about to set the glass of wine you had down, when he stopped you, shaking his head. 

„Want you to relax and drink it while I….“ He kissed all around your pussy and you exhaled with a sigh, the hand that was not holding your glass coming to brush through his soft hair. 

„God I missed this,“ he groaned, his tongue licking up a straight line from your opening to your clit, making you whimper. 

„It hasn’t even been a week,“ you smiled, your fingers scratching over his scalp, making him shiver. 

„Five days. Too damn long,“ he grunted before he got to work. His tongue lazily playing with your clit, in no rush to make you cum. 

He was playing the long game and you were there for the ride. 

By the time you were getting desperate, your glass was empty. 

Emptying your glass, your eyes on Frankie you moaned softly when his tongue dipped inside of you, the moan he released downright pornographic as he tasted you. 

„Always taste so fucking good for me,“ he hummed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sometimes you had the urge to film him when he was between your legs, pleasuring you, because you had never met a man who enjoyed eating pussy so much. 

You wanted another reminder of how much the man you had married loved you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned when two of his fingers entered you. 

He parted from you only to spit against your pussy, making you gasp, fingers still inside of you, going straight for that spot that made your whole body shake, your hand setting your wine glass down as his lips went back, sucking your clit into his mouth.

And suddenly you were close. 

„Shit baby. Move your fingers… yeah… just like… oh fuck,“ you moaned, your hands now playing with your tits, Frankie’s unoccupied hand coming up to cover your right hand on your tit while he worked your body towards your orgasm. 

„I’m gonna cum….“ you whimpered, your hips moving against his mouth as his tongue flicked over your clit, your body shaking as you came, moaning his name, your hand buried in his hair, keeping him close as he lapped at you until you relaxed, practically melting into the chair. 

Softly he continued to lick you until he pulled his fingers out, making a big show of sucking them clean. 

„I love you,“ you sighed and he grinned, his cheek resting against your thigh.

„You only say that because I just ate your pussy,“ he joked, winking at you and you huffed a laugh. 

„True. But I also love you when you not eat my pussy,“ you said and he laughed. 

„I’m glad,“ he said, kissing your inner thigh. 

„And as much as I like seeing you on your knees for me, I think you should get up,“ you grinned at him and he raised his left eyebrow. 

„I think you should get up and lay down on your back on our very comfy bed and get out of your clothes,“ you said all serious, while drawing a line with your finger down to your chest, his eyes following your movement. 

„And why is that?“ He asked. 

„Cause I wanna ride your cock.“

[gosmigenergy]

JUST DESSERTS

( Triple Frontier Boys x F!Reader )

Summary: Frankie and Santiago decide to host a Valentine’s dinner however you’re already a little suspicious of what they have planned.

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, swearing, minor angst because Santiago’s an idiot, sex pollen, group sex, oral - female receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), cream pie, voyeurism, choking, nipple play, oral - male receiving, hair pulling, spit roasting, gagging, squirting, allusions of masturbation (male), fluffy ending, nickname/pet names, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 8.4k

Author's Notes: Just for a little context, here's the fic this one's related to.

You had spent all afternoon watching from a distance.

Frankie preferred you to be out of the kitchen when he was prepping a three course meal for multiple people, saying you were too much of a distraction. Reluctantly, you stayed out of his way and tried to keep yourself busy.

You heard his hushed profanity.

“You ok, babe?”

He was stuffing his phone into his pocket when you approached.

“I forgot an ingredient.”

Your head cocks to one side, brows furrowing. It was unusual, he was so methodical when it came to cooking, he’d never forgotten an ingredient since you’d started dating. Maybe it was Valentine’s Day nerves or because he was in someone else’s kitchen, you had to ask him why they chose Will’s place.

“I can go get it for you.”

“It’s ok, I’ve already messaged Pope.”

The pair of them had planned this evening together because you couldn’t quite book a table for five at a fancy restaurant on the day of love without being questioned. Not to mention the extortionate price rises, the candle lit table where you can barely see and the knowledge you would sit throughout dinner with four sets of eyes on you, all wanting the same thing.

“Soooo,” you bite your lip, “what do you want to do now?”

Leaning back, he folded his arms, eyes trailing you from head to toe. A shiver shot up your spine as his stare hung low, his tongue flicking over his lips and Frankie knew he had just enough time to do what he wanted to do.

When Santiago knocked on the door, it took a few minutes to get an answer.

He was just about to knock again when it swung open and revealed you, flustered and glancing down, he noticed your lack of pants. His one eyebrow quirked and a slight smirk came to his lips.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Frankie entered the living room. “I made sure she finished.”

The temperature in your cheeks rose to scorching, in all of your dating history, you’d never been caught and of course, it has to be Santiago who catches you after a thorough fingering. He’s fucking delighted.

You walk away from him before he can utter a word.

“He wouldn’t let me answer the door until I came,” you say, taking your shorts from Frankie.

“Gotta make sure you’re satisfied.”

A hand snakes around your back and he pulls you closer, squeezing the plumpness of your ass. You cup his whiskered jaw and place a kiss on his cheek before kissing him lightly on the lips, his fingers burying further.

“I’m just gonna clean up.”

“You’re welcome to stay like that,” Santiago chips in.

“I thought you were helping Frankie in the kitchen.”

You saunter away, purposefully not putting on your shorts just to rub it in his face a little.

“I hate you,” he turns to Frankie.

Frankie blinks at him, “You got the stuff.”

The pair of them go into the kitchen, ensuring they’re out of the way from prying eyes and Santiago pulls a tiny brown bag out of his pocket. Frankie snatched it from his hand and eased out the bottle, it looked like any other baking ingredient in a pipet bottle except it was fluorescent pink in colour.

“I still think we should tell her,” he said, bringing it closer for inspection.

“She’ll be fine.”

Frankie went to the fridge and brought the rest of the ingredients to the counter top.

“Ruby chocolate?”

“It’s fruity and should conceal the colour of that stuff.”

Santiago patted his friend on the back, “I knew I could trust you.”

Once you’d finished in the shower, you went to check on the pair of them in the kitchen. Santiago wasn’t being much help, merely standing there and talking whilst Frankie gently folded a pink concoction in a bowl. As you stepped closer, you caught the chocolate wrapper and knew you had to sneak a taste, slipping past Santiago.

Frankie clocked the single finger approaching and slapped your hand hard.

“Ow!”

He immediately put everything down and wrapped himself around you.

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’ve only made enough mousse for the five of us, no samples.”

You look up at him, your pouted lip beginning to quiver, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. It actually really fucking hurt but only Frankie knows why he had such a reaction and Santiago probably, you could only assume.

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it better.

“There’s some chocolate spare in the fridge,” he glanced at Santiago as he spoke.

Santiago headed to the fridge and back, handing you the other unopened bar before boosting you onto the countertop next to where Frankie was working. You eased the paper packaging apart at the top and cracked the first line, breaking a square off.

“You got any questions about tonight?”

Santiago leaned in, opening his mouth slightly and you fed him the piece of chocolate in your hand.

There was only one question you could think of.

—

“Why are they hosting it at your place?” Benny asked his brother.

“Because I’ve got a big enough dining table.”

In all honesty, Will didn’t know if that was their reasoning, he was confused when they asked him too.

“They could have hosted it here.”

“With what table?”

Benny shrugged, “I could have got something.”

His brother was still living like a bachelor, no table just two stools on a breakfast bar, no spare bedroom or fold out couch, he shook his head. When Frankie arrived at his place with bags of ingredients, Will saw it best to get out of the way and offered to come and get Benny, who was trying to figure out what to wear.

“Don’t you have a dress shirt?”

Will watched on as Benny rifled through his wardrobe.

“Do I look like I would have a dress shirt? The moment I stopped doing parades, I got rid of ‘em.”

He would have offered him one if it wasn’t for the fact Benny’s lean physique would be swamped by his. There was already a pile of rejections on the floor including the one denim shirt he owned and the one that Benny had named his good hoodie.

“Who’s idea was it to dress up anyway?”

“Who do you think?”

“Ah, the man with a thousand black shirts.”

Will laughed, “Even Fish has a nice shirt, brother.”

“The coke one?”

Will folded his arms, brows knotting. Benny looked innocently over his shoulder, throwing his hands out.

“You know which one I mean.”

Narrowing his eyes, Will notices the stuffed shelves to the side of his brother and can make out two green sweaters amongst all the greys and blues.

“What about the green sweaters?”

Benny stepped to the side and pulled them out.

“Bunny likes this one.”

He held it up the forest green one and Will was about to say it would pass until he turned it round.

“Is that a cartoon character?”

Benny scowled at him, “It’s a video game character.”

“You never fail to surprise me,” Will pinched the bridge of his nose, “and the other one?”

Tossing another rejection to one side, Benny unfolded the other one, a lightweight knit with a v-neck and emerald green in colour. He’s pretty sure this was one his mother gave him, he wore it once or twice to please her and then pretended he’d lost it over Thanksgiving. He just hated wearing anything other than gym wear, jeans and a t-shirt.

Will was going to have to take him shopping.

“That’ll do.”

—

You’d finished getting ready just as the sound of keys entering the door. Tottering over, you grabbed the door handle and opened it before Will had chance to get it himself.

“You look as lovely as ever, Bunny.”

You brush the front of your pink and purple slip dress, turning round to show him the back, you’d even wore kitten heels for the occasion.

He hands you a bag whilst he takes another, “The Prosecco you like was on offer.”

“Oh, thank you,” you kiss his cheek and leave a mark.

Benny bashfully came in after his brother.

“Aw, Benny, that sweater brings out the colour of your eyes.”

His cheeks turned pink, this was the first time you’d seen him relatively dressed up.

“I told him that but he wasn’t impressed,” Will called from behind you.

You take his sweater by both hands and pull his body to yours, crashing your lips to his. Instinctively, he brings an arm to your waist to stop you from falling backwards as your frame arches.

“Thanks for dressing up for me,” you say after parting your lips, “I know you hate it.”

“If that’s the reaction I get, I might do it more often.”

A pop of a cork filled the room and Frankie was the first to complain.

“Christ, you could have given me a warning,” he said, the food he was tentatively placing on a finely toasted slice of bread now sprayed across the plate.

Santiago came out of the dining room to see what all the fuss was about and then ushered the three of you away from Frankie. He sat you at the top of the table with the Miller brothers either side before he switched on some background music and left to help Frankie serve.

“Can we have more light?”

“Honey, this is meant to be romantic.”

You hum, “Would be nice to see everyone’s faces.”

You had resisted saying anything for two courses, it only seemed right to see them for dessert. Frankie pulled out all the stops on food, to start was freshly made Bruschetta then he followed it with the first ever meal he cooked for you, steak with dauphinoise potatoes and greens. With everyone’s plates clear, he went to dish up dessert.

Santiago grumbled and turned the dial up a little, bringing a warm glow into the room.

“That’s better,” you smile even as he stares you down.

Frankie comes in with the first two plates, placing one in front of you. The pink mousse he was creating earlier was delivered with a handful of berries on the side.

“I’ve waited all afternoon to try this!”

You waited, fidgeting for the rest of the boys to get theirs with a spoon in your hand. The moment Frankie put his ass in his seat, you took the biggest portion you could.

“This is so good,” Benny said, continuing to stuff the mousse into his mouth.

It was good, you weren’t going to deny that. It was velvety smooth, the ruby chocolate adding a touch of fruitiness along with the berries but there was something else. You began to eat slowly, eyebrows knotted as you tried to decipher what it was.

Everyone kept eating before Will spoke up, scraping the last of it from his ramekin bowl.

“What was that floral flavour?”

That wasn’t quite it but you knew he was close.

“Special ingredient,” Santiago responded quickly.

Frankie sighed, “We’re gonna have to tell them eventually.”

“Tell us what?”

Benny was using his finger to scoop out what remnants he could, eyes flitting from Santiago to Frankie.

“Sooo, it’s not rose?”

Will’s query suddenly makes you feel queasy, unable to eat the last couple of spoonfuls so you place your cutlery down.

Santiago clocks it.

“No,” he says, folding his arms. “It’s Aphrodite’s Essence.”

Will looks at Santiago and Frankie before his brother, who sheepishly avoids eye contact.

A swell builds in your chest, the name is all too familiar and you don’t know whether to scream or cry or both. Instead, you bundle the cotton napkin from your lap in your hand and throw back your chair.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Santiago.”

You launch the napkin, hitting him square in the face as you flee from the room.

He calls your name but you ignore him, already bolting for the bedroom, swinging the door heavily. The slam echoes through the hall and Santiago goes to get up. Will gestures a hand for him to stop and he follows the order like any good soldier would.

“Give her a few minutes,” his eyes glanced to everyone again. “And you can tell me what the fuck is going on.

—

Santiago was hesitant to go in, he didn’t quite know what was behind the door. The four of them had talked it out, Will was pissed with every single one of them for a fleeting moment. Benny and Santiago almost ended up in a shouting match whilst Frankie remained quiet until he decided to step in and shut them up.

“Sure you don’t want to do this?”

He looked over his shoulder at Will who shook his head, he was always shaking his head at one of them.

“It’s gotta be you, man.”

His friend was right, Santiago just hated it.

Taking a breath, he rapped the door but you didn’t respond. He takes it as a good sign and squeezes past the threshold as he opens the door enough to fit through.

“Hey.”

You’re sat up, back against the headboard of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around the teddy Will won you. In the darkness, he could just about make out your teary eyes and he switched on the nearest the nearest lamp to give off some light.

You sniff, “Hey.”

He sits at your feet and you move them back.

“Honey, I’m sorry.”

“The last time we saw each other, you wanted to slow down on all of this shit then you go and —“

You lose your words, you’re so mad at him.

“I know, it’s bad timing on my part.”

You look away, pushing your cheek into the soft fabric underneath.

This wasn’t bad timing, he’d made an idiotic decision to get revenge on Benny and thrown everyone else into the mix with them.

“You remember how scary it was for me, I thought I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t, Fish and I made sure of that.”

“It doesn’t mean I want to go through it again.”

“It’s about ten percent of what you had last time, fifteen tops. We added a little extra just to make sure it works.”

“Couldn’t you have just laced Benny’s?”

“Would you want to be around Benny with that stuff in his system and without any in yours?”

“No,” you hugged the teddy closer. “You could have made him go it alone.”

“I’m mean but I’m not that mean.”

“You could have warned me,” your voice was timid.

He rested a hand on your foot, his thumb stroking your ankle. You were right, Frankie was right but he wouldn’t admit he was wrong.

“Would you have eaten it if you knew?”

You breathe in, the stutter in your chest that you only get from crying. Dropping a hand, you hold onto his thumb, eyes returning to him.

“I guess not.”

He hummed, he guessed as such.

“We’ve got to make sure we all have a level playing field,” he handed you the last of your dessert. “I had to fight Benny before he had the rest.”

Your smile peeks from behind the green dome head and you let go of his thumb, taking the dish. You eat the final spoonfuls and hand it back.

“How long till it kicks in?”

“Somewhere between thirty minutes to an hour.”

“So I have time to fix my makeup?”

He double checks his watch, “Plenty.”

Santiago continued to draw circles on your ankle, listening to your breathing as it steadied into its usual pace.

“Am I forgiven?”

“We’ll see how the night goes.”

He slips off the bed and onto his feet, leaning forward to brush his nose against the crown of your head.

“We’ve got you,” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You wait until he leaves the room to sort yourself out. In the bright light of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of how messy you looked, mostly from the mascara trailing down your cheeks like rainfall. Wiping it away, you reapply everything and fix your hair, rearranging your tits under your dress.

“Need any help?”

After hearing the hive of activity in the kitchen, you popped your head through to the dining room.

“All good, sweetheart.”

Will was alone, carefully stacking dinnerware and blowing out candles. You step further in, playing with your hands.

“I kind of ruined dinner, didn’t I?"

“Hardly.”

Santiago ruined dinner, you merely reacted how most people would having found out their food had been laced. He was surprised he’d taken it so well himself.

You hovered nervously, waiting for his attention.

Leaving the plates on the table, he wanders over to you and coils an arm around your frame, pulling you close. His touch is hotter than usual, palm scorching through the slip dress you wore and you try to figure out how long you’d been gone from the room.

“Can I fix you a drink?”

You smile, “Please.”

He took everything in his hands and told you to head to the lounge. Following him, you part ways and you perch on the couch.

You recognised the similarities of last time beginning to trickle through your system. The elevation in your heartbeat, the rise of temperature in your skin that felt as though you were basking in the afternoon sun. It felt like your lips were getting plumper, your eyes growing bigger, the colours of the room becoming vibrant.

“Benny’s insisting whatever this is isn’t working,” Will chuckled. “Fish is fighting with him to not put a couple more drops straight into his mouth.”

“And what do you think?”

You take the glass from his hand and scoot to the side to allow him space next to you. Taking a sip, every bubble pops along your tastebuds, the flavour sinking in deep.

He shrugs, “I don’t know, what am I supposed to be looking for?”

Leaning back, his eyes roam over your body, noticing how you seem to be glowing. Each inch of bare skin he looks at tingles and you wonder if this is how it starts when you take a normal dose. He stretches his hand, fingertips skimming over your shoulder blades and the shiver travels down your spine, pulsating in your pussy. Something travels from you to him, electricity shooting up his arm and his face turns serious.

“On the table.”

You cock your head to the side, “The coffee table?”

“Front on the coffee table, ass facing me.”

“You sure?”

His one eyebrow arches and he folds his arms, tipping his head towards the table quickly.

You swallow, mouth drying as you listen to his instruction. Slipping effortlessly off the couch, you crawl to the coffee table and move a few items out of the way before you drape onto the cold glass top. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his glazed stare, Aphrodite’s Essence soaking into every fibre of his being.

You knew you were in trouble when his hands reached for his belt.

Your desire was already pooling, the nice underwear set you wore an afterthought as you leaned to show your ass to him.

Will glanced to where the other guys were talking before lifting himself up and dropping to his knees. He tapped your ankles and you spread yourself wider. Grabbing the hem of your dress, he lifted it over the curve of your ass, displaying the dark patch already present on your knickers.

“You shouldn’t have worried about the underwear.”

You frown, looking further over your shoulder.

“Didn’t expect to already be this turned on, thought you would like them.”

“Any other night I would.”

You gasp as he cups a hand over your pussy, pushing against your mound and forcing the bottom half into your wet folds. Whining, you lean to his touch, back bowing. The noises you make cause his cock to harden, already straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck,” he growls, hungrily yanking down your knickers.

He parts your ass cheeks to gaze upon your glistening folds, arousal weeping from your entrance. You breath shudders in anticipation as you break eye contact and face the dark television screen.

You watch as he stares longingly before shuffling back and lowering himself, his broad shoulders visible either side.

He flattens his tongue to your folds and licks up slowly. The mewl you gift him is intoxicating, how your body shakes only sweetening it. Your juices already dribble onto his chin, every moan he gives scattering through your nerves.

Unlike last time, the sensation isn’t as intense, instead it softly spreads a warmth through your body, like the tingle you get from coming in from the cold.

Will continued to eat your pussy, tongue slipping between your lips and teasing your inner walls. Then he tilted his head back and moved forward, mouth locking around your clit. It came alive, your legs threatening to lock if he hadn’t forced you to widen, hands gripping harder.

The sweat was arriving to his forehead, his head cloudy as you engulfed him.

You try to hold onto the table top, clammy palms slipping on the glass as you stretch your fingertips in front. Yet, he fights you, continuously pulling you back until you managed to break free.

“Where are you going, Bunny?”

Turning your upper half, you see his dishevelled appearance, messy blond hair and bright red cheeks.

“Nowhere,” you bat your eyelashes, tongue flicking to dampen your lips.

A smile grows on his face, “Good.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, chest heaving as he scrambled to get the fabric from his skin. Standing up, he stripped down to nothing, eyes not moving from you.

Everyone else remained in the kitchen, talking, unaware of the situation enfolding on the opposite side of the wall.

Kneeling down, Will kissed your lips and brought his weight down on you, pining you to the table top. His hardened cock pushed into the valley of your ass, nestling sweetly between your cheeks. You moan, inviting him to shove his tongue into your mouth and meet your own.

His hands trail up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he carried on up your body and over your stomach, hitching your dress higher.

Sinking his teeth into your bottom lip, he tugs gently before releasing it and nuzzling into your neck. His whiskers scratch your skin as he suckles and the essence in your system screams desperately to be covered head to toe in his marks.

You nudge your ass into him, grinding against his stiff length as your want becomes too much.

Groaning, he snakes a hand between the pair of you and takes hold of his cock. He brushes the tip over your asshole, causing you to shiver before he gathers the juices pooling at your opening.

You have little time to prepare yourself as Will ploughs through your folds and fills you to the hilt. It took the air from your lungs, your arms slipping on the smooth material beneath you. He brings his hands to your shoulders, chest firmly set on your back as he squeezes you, pressing you firmly to the base of his cock.

He waits to see your fingers grip the edge of the coffee table, knuckles almost turning white before he pulls easily through your slick and slams into you again and again. Each one of his overwhelmed senses was only able to focus on you. The final hint of your perfume as the aroma of each other’s sweat hit his nostrils, your frantic cries as you begged for more, your wrecked appearance reflected in the tv.

In the stifling heat of your bodies, you could only think of his cock.

How it glided and buried itself within your walls which pulsed as they attempted to take hold of his length, how every stroke hit the multiplying number of sweet spots in your weeping cunt. It was becoming almost unbearable, you just needed to cum.

“Will,” there was a sense of urgency in your tone.

His breath burns your neck, “I promise I’m close.”

You whine, toes curling as the desire is fit to burst in your belly.

He let go of one shoulder and brought his arm just below your neck, holding you to his chest. His other hand moves downwards, stroking your side with a featherlight touch that has your body vibrating in anticipation. Tucking it underneath, he pulls back the hood of your clit before pressing a fingertip to the bundle of nerves.

His arm locks around your neck as you begin to squirm.

Words fail you, nothing coming out of your mouth but tiny squeaks and the sound of you choking to get air into your lungs. Your eyes are shut tight, the inside of your lids decorated with pinpricks of white and pink.

He takes a few more thrusts until he can no longer force his way through your closing walls. He holds you as close as he can as you stop fighting and your hands cling onto his arm, the orgasm surging through you. Your pussy throbs until you milk him dry, his rasp hot in your ear as your bodies mould into one.

When you catch your breath, the adrenaline pumping through your veins approaches your chest and dispels into giggling.

“Shiiit…”

The laughter was contagious, Will’s chest rumbling against your back before he lifted himself from you. His cock draws out of you as he rests onto his heels and he watches you push his thick white cum from your opening, the audible churn as it dribbled out.

“Is this what happened last time?”

“Sort of,” you look over your shoulder, “except this is much more fun.”

His still stiff length twitched at your words and his cheeks went even redder.

“I’m gonna get some water, want anything?”

You pick yourself up, legs shaking and your dress falls over your frame covering the evidence, if you ignored that he was completely nude.

“I’m good,” you say, closing the space between you.

Leaning in, you kiss him, the flavour of your juices soaking into your lips. When he pulls away, he winks and retreats to the kitchen. 

Inside the others had carried on talking, Santiago on drying duties whilst Benny cleaned. Frankie clocked him first, eyes darting over Will’s post sex image and he stepped aside to allow him entry to the sink. Will grabbed whatever glass he could and knocked his brother out of the way, immediately switching on the tap.

“What the fuck?” Benny couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Santiago leaned against the counter top and admired the view as Will chugged before going in for another.

“You ok?”

“Fucking fantastic, brother,” Will smiled at Santiago.

“See, Benny, it is working.”

Benny rolled his eyes, “My brother’s hard on is not proof that it’s working.”

Santiago didn’t know what other proof he could give, he shrugged, opening up his hands in disbelief.

“Will’s got a hard on, I’ve got a hard on and Fish—”

Abruptly, he stopped talking when he realised Frankie wasn’t even in the room any more. He ran his hand over his mouth, fingers tugging gently on his bottom lip as he thought about his next move.

“Come on,” he strode to the door.

Benny threw the sponge into the sink and followed him, Will stayed put, downing water to rehydrate himself. In the lounge, the other two were greeted by a euphoric sight.

Frankie had already made himself comfortable with his shirt unbuttoned, jeans and underwear pulled down his thighs and sat on the one armchair. You were sat on his lap, legs tucked either side of his as you sat with your ass to him, now fully naked. Slowly, you lifted yourself up and down his shaft, sweet and delicate grunts falling from your lips.

One of his broad hands was on your hip, fingers deep into the flesh as he guided you gently, the other at your neck, shaping your back into a perfectly formed arch. You tilted your head to look at him, eyelids heavy as the cock drunkenness begins to set in and his blown eyes reflect back at you.

“Looks like we have an audience,” he drawls.

Your eyes break away from his so you can catch a glimpse at who’s watching, through the fog of the essence you can tell it’s Benny and Santiago. A sharp sting comes across an ass cheek and you yelp, attention returning to Frankie.

“Feeling it?”

Benny took the question as rhetorical, of course he was feeling it now. His cock grew in a matter of seconds, the bulge visibly drawing the tension in his pants and Santiago tried not to look at it. 

Instead, he starts to unbutton his shirt, walking towards you and Frankie hungrily. He places a single finger on your knee and follows your form, a delicate touch over every curve before he takes his thumb and squeezes your nipple.

You bite your lip to stop the moan from coming, a slight stutter in the movements of your hips.

Santiago steps forward and looks down on you, beads of sweat on your hairline and flushed cheeks - god he loved you like this.

“How’s it going, Bunny?”

You gasp for air, “Good.”

His head tilts to one side, eyes flicking to Frankie.

“Just good? I’m sure Francisco and Will are better than that.”

Frankie’s fingers constricted around your neck causing your inner walls to pulse, more juices to flow down his length.

“They are,” you plead with them. “They’re so fucking good.”

Santiago could forgive you, words never came easily when you were overstimulated. Your hips had stopped moving and you sat heavily on Frankie’s length, your hand wrapping around his wrist as he loosened his hold on your neck.

He looked at his friend, “Can I join you?”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the way their eyes met.

Frankie removed his hands from you and you straightened you back, eyes following Santiago as he repositioned himself in front of the pair of you. Your hips had begun rolling of their own accord, only widening Santiago’s smile as Frankie hissed.

He roughly snatched your hands in response, bringing them together behind your back before he placed one of his in between your shoulder blades and eased you forward. You watched, saliva building as Santiago unbuckled his belt, slipping it swiftly from the loops. There are so many ways he could use it yet it gets tossed to the side along with his shirt and pants.

He picks your chin up, “Don’t look so disappointed.”

How could you be disappointed?

Frankie takes your ass in his hand, pushing to encourage you to start riding him. You’re slow at first, trying not to go hell for leather like the essence wanted, and at this angle, you can’t see him just hear how he purrs.

Santiago holds two fingers in front your face and you part your lips, running your tongue along the underneath as he slipped them in. You rolled your tongue around them before he pulled them out, a string of spit hanging briefly between the both of you. Licking your lip, you open your mouth wide enough for his stiff length and girth.

Tipping your head, you stick out your tongue and lick the precum from his radiating tip, the sharpness hitting your tastebuds. He sighs, cupping your jaw and drags you along his cock, stepping forward to graze the back of your throat.

“That’s it.”

His hands drop to his side as he allows you to the control.

You bounce on Frankie’s lap and swallow Santiago in tandem, moaning at the sensation of being full but also the fire in your muscles from being trapped in this position. After a few minutes, Frankie meets your hips with a thrust and you gag on Santiago’s cock as it twitches.

“You alright, cariño?”

You give a muffled response.

Looking up bleary eyed, Santiago’s one eyebrow arches as he double checks on you. You flutter your eyelashes when he brushes the hair from your face and tucks the strands behind your ear. His hand hovers before he runs his fingers into your roots and takes a fistful, the prickling travelling down your neck and shooting down your spine.

He begins to bob your head for you, the tip of your nose tickled by the hairs that line the base of his cock.

Benny had to get out of his clothes.

He scrambled to remove his sweater before freeing his cock from it’s prison. Dropping to the couch with a groan, his length swung towards his navel, this must be what it’s like when someone stumbles across one of his videos.

Every sound the three of you make floods the room, the smell of sweat as the heat builds and can no longer fight the overwhelming urge to wrap his hand around his throbbing shaft. He flinch, his cock so sensitive it’s like he was stupid enough to touch fire. Pushing through it, his jaw locked as he clench his jaw and cautious spread the bead of precum over his head.

Santiago heard movement and track Benny as if he had eyes at the back of his head. He adjusted his stance to let him see you, your features enhanced even from the distance. The glistening of your spit over your lips and round your mouth as you sucked Santiago’s cock, the wave in your throat as he moves in and out, the peaks of your tits wobbling every stroke Frankie took.

The rest of the world blurred around the edges.

Frankie could feel his legs seizing, the knot in his stomach tautening, he wasn’t going to last much longer. He was dizzy from the high, different to the one used to gain from drugs, if he didn’t cum soon he was going to black out.

“We’re gonna need to hurry this up.”

Santiago gave him a singular nod.

Frankie let go of your wrists and tucked them just above your elbows before lifting himself from the armchair. Santiago kept you steady as he moved back and you almost didn’t notice you’d changed position until Frankie snapped his hips, plunging deeply into a new spot.

The vibrations of your groan sent shockwaves through Santiago.

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth.

He brought another hand to the back of your head, strategically placed in a way to not obstruct Benny’s view. He helped you take him smoothly as Frankie slammed into you again and again, making you see stars.

“You’re being such a good girl for us, stay with me.”

This was the first time Santiago had seen you go crossed eyed, your tongue so loose you were drooling down your chin, each choked huff sugary sweet.

Frankie could feel the essence pumping through his veins, his crotch was burning as his desire increased until he balls were full enough to explode. His final thrust forced you into Santiago’s stomach and he held you there as his seed coated your walls before your whole body trembled.

When Santiago came, he spilled his load deep into your throat until you swallowed every last drop. The orgasm carried on, your muscles spasming to the point where you pushed Frankie’s cock from your pussy. Your juices flowed after and in the pink coated darkness you could hear Santiago singing his praises, pulling his shaft from your mouth.

Your arms are still held strong by Frankie who worried you were about to collapse before the room came back into view. Santiago was crouch in front of you, rubbing your cheeks until you stopped seeing double.

“I thought it wasn’t meant to be this intense.”

He shook his head, “I dunno, honey, maybe it’s to do with the hormones.”

You were surprised he understood you, your tongue going numb.

Frankie coiled an arm around your chest and straightens you up, holding you close until you stop feeling floppy. However the goosebumps arrive on your skin as you can still feel a set of eyes drilling into you and your eyes finally drift to Benny.

He’s still sat down, his hand firmly clutched around his cock.

Frankie kisses you on your temple before he unravels you, allowing you to approach Benny, who’s hand relaxes. You pierce your lips together, your head dropping to one side as you inspect his length. Your fingertips skim the back of his hand that had settled onto the arm of the couch and his stern expression melts away.

“Need a hand?”

He shuffles forward, head falling back so he can gaze upon your beauty.

“You could use a break…”

Your heart sinks.

“So hold onto my shoulders,” he stands as he speaks, crowding you, “and I’ll do the rest.”

Curiosity paints your face as you look up at him doe-eyed. He raises his eyebrows before he moves quickly, hooking his arms under your ass and lifting you off the floor. You scream, instincts kicking in as your arms winding round his neck and legs opening to wrap around his waist. Burying your head in your arms, he feels how tense you are, muscles shaking in your effort to hold on.

He chuckles when he feels your nails dig into his back.

“Relax, I got you.”

You lift your head up, leaning back to be greeted with beaming face. Your arms loosen up, your spreading hands sending a hot flash down his spine causing his cock to twitch. He repositions his hands to hold more firmly onto the meat of your ass, lining up with your opening. As your legs relax, he slowly sinks you down, cock entering your spent pussy with ease.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, eyes peeking to watch as his shaft disappeared.

Your inner walls pulsed as he dropped you inch by inch. The base of his spine was on fire, reaching over his hips, burning in his groin and he swore he could shot his load in you there and then.

When he filled you to the hilt, he let you become accustom to the angle and waited until you focused on him. Your chest was picking up speed as your heart rate quickened and skipped, the adrenaline of pleasure entering every end of your body. The flush was returning back to your cheeks, pearls of sweat on your décolletage as he watched.

“Just remember what I told you,” he says when your eyes finally meet.

He dragged his cock as you whine from the loss before he thrust back in, gradually increasing the speed.

Frankie tuts, “Show off.”

Santiago smiled, if his knees didn’t hate him, he would have taken you like this at some point. The training Benny did as well as his physique in general, helped him without the need for wall support though it wasn’t going to last.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Benny.

His furrowed brows as his head hung low, infatuated with how you were taking him, how more juices seemed to flow with every penetration. His dirty blonde locks fell in front of his face, the centre of his chest gaining a sweaty dew, his huffs a rumble against the thunderous claps of each other’s skin.

The tip of his cock nudge at the same soft spot every time, turning your legs to jelly.

“Benny, Benny, please,” you beg.

“Almost there, Bunny.”

His hips were moving as fast as they could, his grasp sinking deeper into your ass yet he could feel you going limp. When he craned his neck, your fingers were slipping to his neck, upper body slopping away from him. Suddenly, he was seeing everything in slow motion, the ripple that travelled through your curves every time he rocked his hips, your tits bouncing. Your head was thrown back, mouth slack as you tried to gain air in your lungs.

Every part of him began to stiffen from his neck towards his chest and abdominals, from his feet to his legs. His movements got sloppy before his ass clenched and the desire he held within dispersed, surging through his veins. The last thing he could do was move a hand to your back and shove your chest to his.

He grunted animalistically, hips jerking as he pumped you full of his cum.

You shuddered as another orgasm washes comes yet there’s no sound from your lips, that underwater sensation washing over you. All you can hear is Benny’s pounding chest, the ragged breaths he releases when finishes.

There’s a wobble as he staggers backwards before collapsing on the couch. He settles, twisting your head to one side to give you fresh air, the hand on your back rubbing soothingly. Another one of the boys approaches, you can’t tell who, and you listen to Benny drink hurriedly.

You don’t know how much time passed until you could lift your head.

“Thought we’d lost you.”

In your cock drunk state, you managed to focus on him admiring you. He brings a hand to your cheek, a thumb trailing over the hot skin and you tilt your head to deepen the touch.

“You’re gonna need this.”

Will crotched down next to you two, placing a hand on your shoulder. You lift your head, sluggishly moving the rest of your body and using Benny to push yourself up with your hands.

Looking to Will, he holds out an entirely full water bottle and winks before you take it off him. He clears the hair from your face as you tip your head back, chugging as the Millers keep their eyes firmly on you. You remove the bottle from your lips and take some big inhales before you can eventually speak.

“You two ok?”

Frankie and Santiago were staring dumbfounded until you snapped them out of it. The tips of Frankie’s ears went bright red and his eyes took a sideward glance to Santiago.

“All fucking good, Bunny.”

You knew Santiago was teasing you except you couldn’t care less.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s take you to bed.”

You move your legs first, setting your feet on the floor, then you press your palms deeper into Benny’s defined abs to lift yourself. Both of you groan as you raise yourself from his cock which landed heavily to his navel.

All of the boys were still hard and the desire already ignited again.

“Everyone’s coming, right?”

Will took your hand, “Do you really need to ask?”

You walked across the room, glancing over your shoulder when you notice Benny isn’t following, his body solidified to the couch.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Getting tired, Ben?”

He hated being called Ben and out of all of them, he knew he could last longer than Santiago. Flicking his middle finger, you left him to take a break, sharing one more fleeting glance to see him smiling as you stepped out of view.

—

Waking up in the middle of the night, you found yourself in between of Benny and Santiago, the three of you in the guest room. Both were out cold, their rising chests slow as they breathed softly, tangled in the sheets.

You wiggle from under the covers and crawl over the bed without disturbing them… or so you thought.

“Where are you going, honey?”

Santiago stirs, rolling onto his back, you can both just about see each other’s faces.

“I’m going to check on Frankie and Will.”

“They’ll be fine.”

You fold your arms and huff, “I’m still mad with you, remember.”

There was a pause.

“How could I forget.”

He turned over, shuffling closer to Benny.

Opening the door, you slip out and tiptoe down the hall before gently entering Will’s bedroom. It doesn’t take much to wake him, the dip in the mattress caused him to lift his head.

“Coming in with us?”

You hum and he tosses his side of the duvet aside for you to get in. Tucking yourself to Frankie, you draw your arms in and press your forehead to his back. He mumbles something incoherently and you sigh, a quiet smile coming to your lips.

Will pulls the covers over you and himself before coming near, his warm palm spreading across your stomach as he snuggled you.

In the morning, both sides of the bed were empty. You blink, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light streaming through a single slither in the curtains. Taking your time, you gradually haul yourself out of bed and stagger around the room to find something to wear. You pull on one of Will’s t-shirts and venture down the hall.

The house was alive, the smell of pancake batter frying in butter, the sound of chatter and laughter. You thought you may just be able to slip into the kitchen with them, nick a piece of incredible crispy bacon that would be on the griddle pan whilst one of them tried to pass you a drink.

Santiago’s spider-senses were tingling.

Suddenly he appeared in the hallway, holding two mugs in his hands. You freeze before he juts his chin towards the office and you go where you’re told. He follows behind and you shut the door behind him, placing the mugs down on the dark wood desk.

“What have I got to do for you to forgive me?”

He asked as soon as the mechanism of the handle clicked.

“Morning, Santi,” you say, not turning round.

“Morning, honey,” the words rush out. “So?”

You sigh, stepping forward whilst you hugged your frame.

“You’re forgiven.”

“Since when?”

“Since you managed to get five orgasms out of me.”

He’s lucky last night actually went so well.

Santiago wanted to correct you, tell you it was actually six but this was not the time to for bragging rights.

“Then what have I got to do for you not to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

He swore under his breath, in his second language so you couldn’t understand or maybe you could, he didn’t know by this point. Your attitude told a different story, you were closing yourself off to him, that constant soft smile of yours no longer there. He bites his tongue, not wanting to lose his shit, not wanting this to become a screaming match or for him to yell at you for acting like a child.

Your eyes were starting to turn glossy with oncoming tears and he saw how hard you swallowed, your jaw locking.

“Bunny…” 

His anger subsides, his tone less harsh. He comes to you, gently wrapping an arm around your back, the other hand cupping your face.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to lie to me,” the words caught in your throat.

Santiago nodded, his deep brown eyes searching your face.

“Or plan something as stupid as last night without consulting me.”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t stupid.”

Now, who’s acting like a child?

“Santi,” you extend the ‘i’ at the end of his name, using your hands to cover your face out of sheer frustration.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

You fight him as he tries to pry your hands away until he stops and walks away. He approaches the desk and takes a coffee, leaning his ass against the edge, folding one leg in front of the other. When you drop your hands down, all you can see is his smirk.

“So, where do you stand on surprises?”

“Surprises?”

He hums, staring over the lip of the cup as he drank.

You try to keep your composure, straightening your back and folding your arms again but Santiago can tell your fit to burst.

“Depends how stupid they are.”

“Yeah,” his eyebrow arches, “A trip to Disney is kind of stupid.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

There had been conversations about a trip. The boys all wanted different things, Will was happy to hop from state to state trying higher end motels, his brother mentioned the desert and horses. Frankie was fine if there was a body of water, preferably a lake, whilst Santiago said a cabin in the woods with a hot tub. 

You vaguely remember alluding to the fact you hadn’t been to the parks in over ten years but if you were going to do it, you wouldn’t want just the day there.

The moment you said the ‘D’ word, Santiago groaned. It wasn’t that he hated it, more that he detested the idea of being surrounded by kids, overpriced food and Benny singing ‘it’s a small world after all’ on loop.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

“You’re lying.”

“You didn’t want me to lie to you anymore,” he held his hands up.

He’s grateful he put his coffee down as you sprint to him and throw your arms over his shoulders, crashing your lips squarely to his.

“I love you, Santi,” you say when you pull your lips away.

He doesn’t say anything and you scowl.

“You gonna say it back?”

He smiles, “Love you, honey.”

You give him a peck on the cheek.

“Am I allowed to let the boys know that I know?”

“Sure.”

With that you were gone, door left wide open.

“Bunny, your drink!”

The rest of them stood in the kitchen, chatting about what they could remember from last night, cradling cups of coffee and tea. It was the picture of calm until you burst in, bounding onto Benny who almost lost his balance as he took the weight of you around his neck.

“Hot pan!” He flung his arm out.

“We’re going to Disney,” you screamed.

Frankie and Will groan in unison. Benny put the pan down and wrapped his arms under your ass, scooping you up to his waist before talking to you enthusiastically about the trip without giving away any details.

“Pope, seriously man?”

“I thought we were telling her closer to the date.”

He shrugged, “I had to.”

Santiago would never admit why though Will gave a knowing nod and smile before turning his attention to you. He took the handle of the frying pan and switched the gas on as you twist your head round.

“Pancakes?”

“Please,” you replied softly and started discussing what you wanted to do. “We should do the drink around the world challenge!”

“Yes!”

“No,” Frankie and Santiago said immediately.

You pout to them as Benny places you down on the counter top. It’s short lived as you watch Will pour the batter perfectly into the pan with an accompanying sizzle. Benny still talks and you stuff your face with strawberries whilst Santiago and Frankie look on.

“You’re getting soft in your old age.”

“Shut up.”

Frankie knew full well it wasn’t old age.

[burntheedges]

Summer Stuff-My-Inbox Fic Rec List (Part 2)

I can't believe it's already September? What the hell, honestly. Thank you all for sending me your fics again!

Remember to check out Part 1, too.

The list has 57 more Pedro-character fics posted since June 1, organized by character and then alphabetically by author. Mind all tags and warnings! I've noted word count (we've got a range!), whether it's part of a series, and pairings. Let's get reading and reblogging!

Characters in this rec list: Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Javier Gutierrez, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Pero Tovar, Tim Rockford

...

Dave York

melt by @sizzlingcloudmentality | 960 words | Dave x f!reader summary: wine drunk and with fresh croissants from the bakery you're having French breakfast and sex with Dave. | Daphne mentioned being proud of this one particulary because of the smut!! 😏

Dieter Bravo

Eros & Psyche by @schnarfer | ~16k, complete | Dieter x f!reader summary: Dieter is a modern day Greek God Eros. We’re going full existential dread rom-com, actually. | I can't wait to read this!

Golden Girl by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 2.9k | Dieter x f!reader summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you.

Starlet by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.7k | Dieter x f!reader summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

Din Djarin

Fifteen Weeks by whocaresstillthelouvre | 5k | Din x f!reader summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. | this is part 2! Don't miss part 1!

Oath Broken and Soul Bound by @whxtedreams | 1.8k, wip | Din x OFC Witch hunter!Din x OFC!Witch, from Flora: It's a Witch AU, fantasy and forbidden love. It's very new, only one chapter out but I have very big plans. I have pretty much the entire fic mapped out. It also has Ezra, Frankie and Joel as characters. You can learn more about their characters here in the character study i did for them. This is my passion project, I have so much love for them and I can’t wait to share my story in more detail!

Tales from the Dark Garden by @hapan-in-exile | 9k | Din x f!reader summary: The reader is a courtesan at the Dark Garden, Coruscant’s most prestigious pleasure house, where you encounter the Mandalorian.

Touchstone by @sawymredfox | 2.6k | Din x f!reader summary: Things are not always what they seem. They have a meaning. They have a reason behind them, private and cherished.

Ezra (Prospect)

There are Other Fish in the Sea by @beefrobeefcal | 4 parts | Frankie x f!reader, Ezra x f!reader summary: an alternate ending (and continuation) of another of Beefro's fics, where Frankie messes up and Ezra comes along.

Joel x Ezra

who knows where the time goes by @sixhours | 11k | Joel x Ezra (Prospect) summary: It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

Frankie Morales

Like the Rain by @jennaispunk | 2.9k | Frankie x f!reader summary: Frankie has something to say….will you listen? | Jenna said this one is her first Frankie fic!! and a challenge because it has more spice, which is fun!

There are Other Fish in the Sea by @beefrobeefcal | 4 parts | Frankie x f!reader, Ezra x f!reader summary: an alternate ending (and continuation) of another of Beefro's fics, where Frankie messes up and Ezra comes along.

Tide by whocaresstillthelouvre | 1.2k | Frankie x f!reader summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything… except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at.

Javier Gutierrez

KEPT by @beefrobeefcal | 5.3k | Javi x f!reader summary: You might just have bitten off more than you can chew by possibly becoming Javi G's sugar baby.

Rhapsody in Blue by @maggiemayhemnj | 5.5k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javi G takes you to the Oscars. Takes you to the Vanity Fair party. Takes you back to the Chateau Marmont. Then just takes you. | Maggie said this one took her out of her comfort zone, and she ahd fun delving into more spice!

Javier Peña

An End to Drought by @almostfoxglove | 5.4k | Javi x f!reader summary: The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Dispose of Me by whocaresstillthelouvre | 1.8k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javier Peña needs you… and you're moving away in two weeks.

Dusk by @the-orange-tabby-cat | 8.7k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javier sees you again years after the end of your love affair. Torn between the memories of what happened then and what is now, you both face the weight of your actions from Bogotá to Madrid.

Hold my hand by @milla-frenchy | 4.1k | Javi x f!reader summary: a stranger saves your life. Or your and Javi’s love story.

I'll Carry You by almostfoxglove | 2 of 3 parts, 13.6k | Javi x f!reader summary: You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Scathed by @dancingtotuyo | 41k, wip | Javi x OFC summary: Javier and Emily experienced the drug war on different fronts in very different ways. Maybe, they’re what the other needs to heal.

Joel Miller

Joel & Ellie, no pairing

happy birthday, baby girl by sixhours | wip | Joel and Ellie summary: Ellie has never had a birthday. Joel can fix that.

Joel x Ezra

who knows where the time goes by sixhours | 11k | Joel x Ezra (Prospect) summary: It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

x reader or x OFC

A summer with the Millers by @milla-frenchy | 4.2k, wip | Joel x f!reader x Tommy summary: you come back to your father's house for summer vacation and want to get closer to your crush and dad's best friend, Tommy Miller. His brother Joel is gonna help you to reach your goal.

Always in my Heart by @mermaidgirl30 | 1.2k | Joel x f!reader

summary: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

BDSMaid by @mountainsandmayhem | wip | Joel x f!reader summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Cover Me Up by almostfoxglove | 97.7k, finished | Joel x f!reader summary: After you spare the lives of two kids who break into your isolated cabin in the woods, they lead you back to their settlement. You intend to get in, trade for valuable supplies, and get out, but end up staying. Four years later, you're a solitary but respected pillar of Jackson's close-knit community when Joel Miller shows up, kid in tow. You think nothing of him or the kid. You like your quiet life. Too bad it won't stay quiet for long. Or: Joel and Ellie make you human again. | Freya's first series!

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost by mermaidgirl30 | finished | Joel x f!reader summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Fragile State by @galway-girlatwork | 2.5k | Joel x OFC Tara summary: The aftermath of a traumatic car accident leaves a family struggling with fear and uncertainty. The emotional toll weighing them all down as they try to find some normalcy which they all know is impossible until he wakes up. Vulnerability and desperate needs for the man who is the center of their lives to remember who they are and the life he had with them. | the author mentioned this way of writing a story was new, which is very fun!

Halcyon by @justagalwhowrites | ch 16, 110k so far | Joel x f!reader summary: When your life falls apart, you find yourself back in your hometown of Austin, Texas for the first time in more than a decade. Eager to make your own way after a rough divorce, you reconnect with your high school best friend Joel Miller - a man you never thought would be in your life again. Things have changed since your falling out just before you left for college but friendship with Joel comes easy. His life isn't in any better shape than your own and the two of you make a vow to get your acts together - personal, professional and romantic - in the span of a year. But will your burgeoning connection make it so you can figure everything out or will your history together get in the way?

Her by milla-frenchy | 3.2k | Joel x f!reader summary: after Joel confides one of his fantasies to you one day, you make it come true. | her first kinda sub!Joel with Joel realizing a fantasy. 😏

In Need of a Top Up by @tateypots | 1.5k | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel likes calling you his wife and you like hearing it.

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love. by whxtedreams | 2.5k | Joel x f!reader summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

It Tastes of Magic by sawymredfox | 12k | Joel x f!reader summary: Your grandmother always told you the same thing. Have always salt in handy to spill over your left shoulder. Knock on wood to keep away the bad luck. Don't forget that mint likes to have her space to grow. Actions always speak louder than words. And love as much as you can, because even when it hurts, it makes you stronger. Will she still be right?

Lock the Gate by almostfoxglove | 23k+, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: You're less than enthusiastic when your uncle's partner Frank invites two strangers from the Boston QZ to your compound to trade. Joel Miller proves just as callous as you and brutishly stubborn—but after a cutting first impression, a bloody inconvenience, and a long walk through infested woods, you're not sure if the fire you carry for him is actually hate.

Push it by milla-frenchy | 3.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: you have a secret “relationship” with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you can’t resist the idea to provoke him a little.

See How She Rides by @arcanefox207 | 4.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: BoatMechanic!Joel Miller is just doing his job when you show up unannounced to soak up some summer sun. | Ally said she had a lot of fun writing this one and I think we're going to have a lot of fun reading it!!

spin me around by @ace-turned-confused | 2.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all. | for the Secret Springs challenge!

Stranger in a Bar by justagalwhowrites | 17.3k | part 2, finished | Joel x f!reader summary: You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Teach Me How to Play Coach Miller by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.2k | Joel x f!reader summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball… maybe he can teach you a thing or two?

Tear You Apart by mermaidgirl30 | wip | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

Tenacity by whocaresstillthelouvre | 2.3k | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.)

The Fallen Warrior by @bluestar22x | 6.7k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller, once the great archangel named Jaoel, fell from grace many centuries ago. After his brethren take everything from him, he immerses himself in human culture. Careful not to get too close to anyone new, everything changes when Joel finds a nephal (nephilim plural) living on the streets in Austin - the first since his fall. A trusted co-worker (reader) ends up adopting her. But just as the street kid, Ellie Williams, is settling into her new home Heaven’s angels come to town searching for her. They have a plan to use her blood in their battle against Hell, then dispose of her after. Joel can’t allow that. He won’t.

The green flannel shirt by milla-frenchy | 817 words | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel comes back home from work and finds you asleep wearing his shirt.

The Savage and the Sanctuary by justagalwhowrites | 8.3k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

untitled by @idioticcatss | ~1.5k | Joel x reader sophie mentioned being proud of getting out of a writing slump with this fluffy, smutty fic! some tags: love marks, age gap, pet names, smut

Wings of the Dawn by the-orange-tabby-cat | 49k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: You are Jackson’s librarian, a doll with good heart, that has your life changed when a handsome man and his kid decides to start again in your small town. Having a hard time ignoring Joel’s dark brown eyes, you found yourself wishing to have him closer as you both navigate through love triangles, teenage drama, city gossip and ghosts from both your pasts.

Woman by dancingtotuyo | 74.6k, finished! | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller returns to Jackson bringing back memories and feelings from 20 years ago, but you refuse fall into the universe’s trap again. Your table is at capacity. Adding another chair will only kill you when they get taken away. | also Em just starting posting a no-outbreak AU of this fic!!

Yearling by justagalwhowrites | 306k, finished! | Joel x f!reader summary: After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

Yearling No-Outbreak AU by justagalwhowrites | 4.1k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: When Ellie sees you riding at a rodeo, she knows you have to teach her. A no-outbreak AU of Yearling, where you and Joel find each other in every timeline. Can be read independently as a no-outbreak AU fic.

Marcus Acacius

Legionary by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.4k | Marcus x Lucius x f!reader summary: Marcus returns to his hometown while traveling with his young soldier who's eager to learn from him. Good thing he knows your domus is always open to him.

mould me for ruin by ace-turned-confused | 4.6k | Marcus x f!reader summary: after years of watching general acacius, you long to wield a sword of your own — an opportunity arises for your dreams to come true, in more ways than one.

proud to be yours by ace-turned-confused | 2.7k | Marcus x f!reader summary: it's the first time you've seen acacius since he took your virginity, and he has plans for a different kind of training.

Marcus Moreno

(Some) Bodies by galway-girlatwork | 3.1k | Marcus x OFC Priestly summary: In the shadows of the ancient city, a dark romance blossoms between a healer and a sinner. It is a connection of light and dark, life and death. Can he accept her past? Can she believe there is redemption for what she’s done? Can carefully guarded secrets stay that way?

Marcus Pike

Code name: Hephaestus by @604to647 | 3.2k | Marcus x f!reader summary: Marcus requests a change to his FBI Agent code name. | Emily wrote this for Kel's Pedro Pantheon challenge and really challenged herself!! I'm excited to read. 🧡

next year by me! | 18.3k | Marcus x gn!reader summary: You expected your vacation to go like it always did -- a week of reading, relaxing, and so much alone time you'd be almost happy to see your coworkers when you got back. You'd spend time on the beach and walk around town and generally do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, just like you did every year. But when you locked eyes from across the sand with the handsome man renting the house next door, something told you this year would be different.

Pero Tovar

Maple by @sawymredfox | 2k | Pero x f!reader summary: A fox, a rifle, and two strangers in a forest. What could go wrong?

Tim Rockford

The detective by @milla-frenchy | 2.6k | Tim x f!reader summary: being a suspect in a theft case, you get interrogated by a handsome and dominant personal investigator.

...

happy reading and reblogging! 🧡

[turtletaubwrites]

Sanji's Super Birthday Present ~ Part 2

Here's the long awaited (sorry!) sequel to Part 1 (WC 988). The request was for someone to commission a sex toy from Franky, and our love cook is about to enjoy his present.

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1105

Ao3 Link

Summary: You've never had so much fun giving someone their birthday present before. Sanji makes sure you know how grateful he is.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Comeplay, Sex Toys, (Strap On), Bottom Sanji, Rimming, Anal Play, Pegging, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut

A/N: Both parts of this fic can be read on their own, but they would occur in the not so distant future of the We've All Got Needs poly fic. (Also, I am sorry about the wait, but this was one of my first requests. I don't think I would have done this smut justice back then, so I hope you forgive me, and enjoy this filth now 😅)

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“Bend over, birthday boy.”

Your voice had never sounded so husky, so dangerous, and the thrill you felt as Sanji arched his back was delicious. 

“Don’t keep me wait–”

Laughter almost poured from your lips, your teeth clenching down as Sanji practically flew to the center of the bed. This time he arched his back for you while he lifted that biteable ass into the air. 

“Fuck, angel, I love you so much,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering as he pressed his face into the mattress.

“Love you too, pretty boy,” you teased, pressing your lips against his ass cheek while your fingers caressed all that gorgeous flesh. 

Sanji was too much fun to play with. He was always so focused on you, all of his attention ripping you into throbbing pieces before he’d ever take anything for himself. 

This felt amazing. His eagerness spurred you on, a pleased hum moving through you as you spread his cheeks apart.

“I wanna make you feel soo good, honey.”

Sanji tried to reply, but let out a needy gasp as your tongue touched that sensitive ring of muscle, leaving wet circles and increasing the pressure until he made more pretty noises. 

“That feel good, handsome?”

“S-so good,” he answered, shaking as you returned to your work. 

You let your tongue press inside him slightly, just as you reached a hand between his legs to stroke his swollen dick. 

“Oh, fu-uucckk,” Sanji cried out, grunting as you felt that familiar twitching, his thick cock pulsing in your hand. You moaned into his ass, the whimpering praise leaving his lips only growing as his orgasm stretched on.

Leaving soothing circles with your palm on his back, you waited for your lover to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself back to sit on his heels, shaking his head at the mess he’d made on the bed. 

“We can clean the blanket later, sweetie. I’ll clean this for you though.”

“Gods, fuck,” Sanji practically shouted, laughing after you released his sensitive cock from your mouth. You grinned, the taste of his pleasure on your tongue. 

“You are my filthy angel, aren’t you,” he purred, pulling you in for a kiss before helping you tug the messy blanket off the bed. 

“Can I show you how much I love my present?”

Sanji didn’t wait for an answer, just went to his knees, smoothing his strong hands along your thighs as he pushed you back against the wall. 

“I–”

“You are so sweet to me. So perfect.”

Shivers ran through you as he traced around the straps holding his gift in place. A hand traveled between your thighs, bringing moans from both of you as he found the wetness that had soaked through your panties. 

“So good for me…”

Sanji pulled your panties aside, circling your clit before plunging two fingers inside of you. His other hand gripped your waist, keeping you steady as you met his dark eyes. 

“I love my gift, sweetheart.”

His fingers curled, dancing along that perfect spot within you, right as he took the strap on into his mouth, his eyes fluttering as he looked up at you. 

“Oh my– oh, Sanji…”

You had no idea that the sight of him shoving the toy down his throat would affect you like this, but with his fingers at work, you were already coming. He kept you pressed against the wall, moaning his name while he sucked that toy for you. Your twitching pussy squeezed his fingers, trying to pull him in as you fell apart. 

He hummed as he released you, helping you move toward the bed after giving the toy a few long strokes with his tongue. 

Shaking yourself to bring back your mind after that orgasm, you fisted your fingers into his hair, loving the little moan he let out. 

“It’s your birthday, lover. Be a good boy, and lie down for me. I wanna see your pretty face.”

A wicked smile touched your lips at the desperate whimpers he made while you went to the dresser. Turning back to him with a towel and lube, you found him lying at the edge of the bed, that pretty cock ready and leaking again.

“So good for me, handsome,” you rasped, pouring lube on your fingers while he pulled a pillow under his head to get a better view.

You let your tongue hang loose with want while you rubbed lube around his asshole. The noises and faces he made were already so frenzied, you couldn’t imagine what would happen next. 

“Gods, angel, please. You’re so–”

Your fingers cut him off, pressing in, testing, making him writhe as you wrapped your free hand around that swollen length. 

“How’s that, honey,” you checked in with a tease. “Do my fingers feel–”

“Fuck me, pleeease,” he pleaded, and you rewarded him with another finger. You went slow, but he begged for more. 

Sanji held his legs up, spread wide as he watched you drip lube along his new toy. The drool at the corner of his lips made your body tighten again, loving every second of his frantic pleasure. 

“You really like your present,” you faked a shy voice as you teased his asshole with the tip of the toy.

“Fuck yes, angel. Please…”

“Please, what,” you taunted, kissing his knee.

“Please, fuck me, sweetheart. Please shove that toy in my– Fuck. Oh fuck…”

Nice and slow, you rocked your hips into him, every face he made etching into your mind forever. 

He whined for you to go faster, so you fucked that curved toy into him, knowing it was hitting right where he needed it.

“Y/N, angel, so good–”

“Yeah, pretty boy? You like it when I fuck your ass, handsome?”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond as you grabbed his cock again, thrusting into him while you felt those thick veins pulsing in your hand. 

“Y/N, feels so– coming, angel,”

He choked out those words while you praised him. You let out your own soft moans of pleasure as you watched hot ropes of come spill out, covering his chest and stomach while his eyes rolled back. 

Letting him go only when he twitched and begged, you laid beside him to catch your breath before meeting his eyes with a grin. 

“Soo, did you like–”

“Best present ever,” he panted, rolling to kiss your cheek. “My filthy angel spoils me too much. Let’s clean up so I can spoil you back.”

His raspy words arched your back a bit, and you sighed as his lips met yours. 

“Mm, happy birthday, pretty boy.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Oh, Sanji 🥰🥰

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @vinsmokesangio

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[lotusbxtch]

SoCal to NorCal - Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Masterlist Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x afab!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 1: Malibu

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Chapter Summary: You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, multiple creampies, explicit talk about cum (is a cum kink a thing? a tag I should use? Pls comment with your thoughts lol), spitting, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Santi being a menace is his own warning, Frankie the PEK, Frankie has a big dick and so does Santi, Reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control. a/n: This is my very first series fic! I plan to have 3 chapters including this one. This one was meant to be a fun spicy little intro into the fic, but of course Santi being an absolute menace meant that this is absolute smutty filth and I'm sorry (not sorry). MASSIVE thank you to my sweet @for-a-longlongtime, who not only gave me the iconic Santiago line "guava goes better with pussy and mezcal," but beta read for me, bounced ideas around, and encouraged me when I wasn't sure that I could do this. Without her help, this fic wouldn't be in existence! Dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you! (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I think that should be everything,” you murmur, closing the back of the forest green Jeep. You card a hand through your hair while going over a mental pack list for the third time this afternoon. Behind you, you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder and warm, strong hands envelop your waist.

“You ready to ride then, sweetness?” asks your boyfriend, Frankie. You smile and lean back into his embrace. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this trip,” you say, turning to plant a kiss to his aquiline nose, and then another to his plush lips. You both hop into the car; Frankie navigates towards the coast, while small butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach as you think about how the two of you got here.

You and Frankie Morales met six months ago at the Santa Monica airport. In a bid to encourage team bonding, upper management at your job booked a helicopter tour of the Los Angeles skyline. Frankie was the pilot for your chopper. He charmed your group with his charismatic yet humble demeanor and fun factoids about LA, especially you – your coworkers insisted that he kept staring at you when you weren’t looking. But Frankie ultimately beat you to the punch and asked you out for drinks the following night. You accepted, and the rest is history. The attraction was palpable from the get-go, and Frankie’s go-with-the-flow attitude complimented your fiery personality to a T. You adored how detail-oriented he was in all aspects of his life – memorizing your favorite teas, asking about how your projects were going, knowing exactly how to make you see stars in bed with his fingers, his cock, and especially his tongue. You couldn’t deny that Frankie was the perfect addition to your life, and you to his.

Through those first few weeks, you both divulged the more challenging bits of your lives. Frankie told you about his daughter, Isabella, and how his struggle with cocaine almost ruined his life. His relationship with his ex-wife was strained because of it, but they co-parented well - it was their main goal to ensure that Isabella was never put in the middle of their struggles, that she always felt supported and loved by both of her parents. Frankie had lost his pilot’s license after he failed a random drug test, and he took that as a sign to do the work to fix what was broken. He was now two years sober, and back to flying.

You, in turn, revealed to Frankie that he wasn’t the only man in your life. For the last decade, you���ve been with Joel Miller, your husband of seven years. Joel was the steady compass of your soul, the man whose roots intertwined deeply with those of your heart. You’d loved Joel almost your entire life, having grown up in the same neighborhood, although your crush on him was secretive during your childhood. He was your older brother’s best friend from college, a transplant from Texas whose parents moved to the Bay Area when he was a teenager. You ran into him after getting your master’s degree and moving back to the suburbs of San Francisco, and something sparked between the two of you. Since then, you’d been inseparable. When your work requested that you spend a year going between NorCal and SoCal to establish the new Los Angeles area office, you knew it would be a challenge for your relationship. As it turns out, it was only really a challenge for one reason — your sex drive was incredibly high, and sometimes you were apart from Joel for weeks at a time. Phone and video sex worked as well as it could, but it couldn’t beat the real thing. One night, after a particularly frustrating video sex session — all of your toys ran out of juice and you’d left your charger at home, among other things — Joel surprised you by suggesting that you didn’t need to stay monogamous. 

“Are you sure, Joel?” you asked incredulously. “You’ve never been one to particularly like sharing.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied. “Lord knows the new office ended up bein’ more work than either of us thought it’d be. I know how much ‘gettin’ yours’ can be de-stressin’ for ya, and I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t seek it. It’s not like you’d be askin’ someone to move in with us. If it helps you, it makes me happy. And it sure would give my phone battery and hands some relief.” He chuckled as you scoffed in mock indignation. “You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t want to about whoever you get involved with. As long as you’re stayin’ safe and they’re treatin’ you as well as I do, then I’m okay with it.”

You sighed in consideration. “Let me think about it some more,” you said, picking at your rental’s bedspread. “It’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”

And then two weeks later, you met Frankie. Frankie was surprisingly relaxed when you told him about Joel, albeit surprised. He’d hesitated to continue things until you got on the phone with Joel and had him tell Frankie himself. After all, you’d checked with Joel within a few days of meeting Frankie just to make sure Joel was still okay with you being with another man.

You made sure to tell Joel when you’d be seeing Frankie, and Frankie didn’t contact you when you were back home with Joel. It wasn’t that either man wanted to pretend the other didn’t exist; rather, they each wanted to respect the other man’s time with you. Frankie wasn’t seeking marriage or starting a family; he wanted to continue using his time and energy on Isabella and getting his career back on track. And Joel was confident in and comfortable with your  marriage in a way that didn’t allow for unseemly jealousy to crop up. 

Gradually you told each of them bits about the other one, until one day Joel suggested that the two of them meet. You were game, but wanted to run it by Frankie first.

“He wants to meet me?” Frankie asked, wringing his hands a bit and looking mildly surprised. The two of you had just finished dinner at one of your favorite taco trucks in LA, and you licked the tips of your fingers as you finished your last al pastor taco, the warm, savory spices dancing on your tongue. Frankie took a sip from his Mexican Coke, his plush lips wrapping around the cool aqua glass of the bottle.

You nod your head in affirmation. “Just for a couple of days. We could make a vacation out of it. Joel suggested maybe we road trip up the coast.”

Frankie looked pensive. You don’t blame him, especially when the two men had made a concerted effort to keep their relationships with you separate. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Frankie asked, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You studied those dark chocolate irises, so similar to Joel’s. 

“Yes, Francisco,” you confirmed, reaching out across the plastic picnic table to touch his hand. The sounds of the city wrapped around you as the two of you gazed at each other. “Joel has my heart, but so do you. And I want both parts of my heart, my favorites, to be with me at the same time for once.”

“Ok, mi amor, let’s go then,” Frankie said resolutely, bringing up your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

Your thoughts bring you back to the present, with Frankie’s one-hand grip on the steering wheel and the warm coastal sun beaming through the windshield. The windows are down, allowing the salty sea air to filter through the Jeep. He flips on his turn signal and begins driving through a particularly posh part of Malibu. Giant mansions dwarf the street, pristine lawns and modern, open-glass architecture rolling by as you continue on. You let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell does Santi do again to afford this?” you ask Frankie, eyes flicking to and from each house you pass by.

“Nothing,” Frankie chuckles. “When we got the money from that final mission that Santi and I went on, he invested the entirety of his share into the stock market. Well, almost everything.” He snorts at the champagne Range Rover in Santi’s driveway as the two of you pull up. Frankie, on the other hand, put the majority of his earnings into a trust fund for Isabella. The rest he used to set himself up comfortably but modestly. “Santi still does some consultant work for private security firms, but he just keeps reinvesting the money and using it to buy property and fund charity work,” Frankie explains.

“Can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty solid strategy,” you respond, taking in the splendor of Santi’s Malibu abode as Frankie parks his Jeep. The three-story home is minimalist and modern on the exterior, with a combination of cool beige stone and warm wood paneling. No other houses are on either side of the building, so the property is ulta-private, and even has its own beach. As the two of you unpack your bags from the car, you hear a wolf whistle shriek from somewhere around the corner. Jumping slightly, you turn and then smile as Santiago Garcia strolls barefoot out of the house, his pale linen slacks and caramel vintage ribbed polo shirt fluttering lightly against his muscular frame in the sea breeze. 

“Hey pendejo, you finally made it!” Santi yells to Frankie, then turns to you with a “hi, hermosa,” and a kiss to your cheek. You wrap your arms around Santi’s torso, inhaling his sandalwood and cinnamon scent and giggling a hello. Frankie walks up, bags in hand, and tries to ruffle Santi’s perfectly coiffed curls. Santi dodges him and then goes in for a bear hug; Frankie smiles broadly as they rock side to side before clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, hermano, and thanks for letting us stay with you,” Frankie says warmly as he picks up your luggage and the three of you head towards the house.

“Not a problem, I’m in town for a consulting gig and figured it’d been awhile since we’d gotten together,” Santi responds ahead of you. You and Frankie follow him into the open-concept common area, admiring the sleek countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and plush yet subdued furniture. Light neutrals rule the color palette, with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows to allow natural light in. You run your hand over the back of a velvet lounger, indulging in the texture against your fingertips. Frankie goes to the bedroom to drop off your luggage, while Santi starts pulling things out in the kitchen for dinner prep. Continuing towards the back of the house, you push open the sliding glass doors, letting fresh air in while you admire the view from the balcony. Below, the azure waves caress the sand gently, and the sound of the ocean encourages you to release all the stress from the last workweek. 

The boys get going on dinner as you slip on a silky emerald green dress - opting to go braless and barefoot - and dab on some rosy lip stain. The dress drapes lushly over your body, making it both comfortable and beautiful. After spritzing on some of your favorite perfume and putting on thin gold hoop earrings, you emerge from the guest bedroom you and Frankie are sharing for the weekend. Santi looks up and hums in approval.

“Damn, bebita, you look delicious,” he purrs as he finishes seasoning the steaks. “Do you always dress up for dinner with this chump or did you get pretty just for me? It’s okay, you can tell the truth.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and chuckle as you squeeze his bicep in passing. “Santi, don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, “I did it for myself. I don’t need to dress up for him to want to devour me.” You cross the kitchen to Frankie, who’s working on the caprese salad. Frankie huffs a laugh and puts down the kitchen knife, wiping his hands on a towel before to circling his hands around your waist. You lean into him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“That’s right,” he shoots back to Santi without looking over, “she doesn’t need extra dressing up; she’s stunning enough as she is.” He kisses your forehead softly as you gaze up at him lovingly.

“You’re right.” Santi lets his gaze scan over you approvingly. “She probably looks even better with nothing on.”

“Santiago!” you laugh. “You’re such an insufferable flirt.” You walk back over to the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, fixing him with a smoldering smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hmm?” Santi has always been relentlessly flirtatious with every attractive woman he meets, including you. Frankie’s never bothered by his antics, but you see his eyes flick towards the two of you, anticipating his response.

“Don’t tease me with promises you won’t keep, sweetheart,” Santi warns you, voice like rich caramel, sweet and smooth. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment before you break away, laughing softly and successfully ruffling his hair like Frankie wanted to earlier. That distracts Santi from the moment, as he huffs and runs his fingers through his curls to fix them.

A few hours later, the three of you are relaxing on the balcony by the fire pit after dinner, drinking mezcal margaritas and catching up on life. You sit with your legs across the cream  patio sofa, your back against Frankie’s side like you often do with him. His arm is draped possessively across your torso while his thumb rubs absentmindedly back and forth across your shoulder. Santi goes inside to fetch the mezcal bottle from the kitchen, having switched to just the liquor, and you stand from the couch to observe the beach at the balcony’s railing. The darkness of night has settled over the landscape, lending deep navies and turquoise hues to the water, and everything feels more hushed. 

As you inhale the coastal breeze, you feel Frankie’s warm body press into you from behind, and then his soft lips pressing a trail of kisses over your shoulder and neck. You hum happily, smelling his rosemary cedar soap on his skin, and press yourself further into him, lightly grinding against his hips. Frankie lets out a quiet groan and presses right back into you, letting you feel his hardening length against your ass. He begins to cup your breasts through the silken fabric of your dress, easily pebbling your nipples with no bra between his fingers and your tits. The heat of arousal starts to pool low in your belly as Frankie slides his hands down to your hips, grinding on you until he’s fully hard beneath his pants. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, and turn to the side to catch his lips, biting on his lower one and eliciting a louder groan from him. 

“Sweetness, I need you so badly,” Frankie whispers into your ear. When you quietly moan in response, you can feel Frankie’s hands slip down the silk over your ass and hear him shuffle behind you. Spinning around and opening your eyes, you see him on his knees, hat next to him on the floor, starting to ruck up your dress. 

“Frankie,” you hiss, grabbing his hands, desperate for more but concerned. “What if Santi sees?” 

“What if I want to watch?” you hear suddenly over Frankie’s shoulder, and you gasp when you look behind him and realize Santi is leaning against the open balcony door, sipping mezcal straight from the bottle. A fire ripples from the base of your spine upwards, and your gaze drops to Frankie, whose eyes have gone nearly black with desire but remain on you. Your lips pop open slightly, and you freeze.

“Well, querida, answer the man,” Frankie rasps. “Either you let him watch or make him go back inside, but either way, I’m eating this sweet pussy.” His hands slowly drag up your legs until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, which rips a moan from your throat. As Frankie’s lips trail up and down your legs, you look back up at Santi, trying to read his expression. Gone is the molten chocolate of his irises; instead, you see glimmering adamant, dark and deep like the desire painted over every line of his face. But that heated gaze is still respectful – you know Santi would never cross your boundaries. If you truly didn’t want him to watch, he’d go inside the house, no questions asked. 

It’s for that exact reason that your desire thrums through you like a bass line, and you bite your lip. “Frankie, I need your mouth on me right now. I think Santi needs to see how hard you make me come.”

Frankie responds with a groan, while Santi lets out a deep purring sound. He moves to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, and takes another swig of mezcal as he takes in the sight before him. Frankie immediately yanks your soft lace panties down your thighs, and growls at the gossamer-thin string of arousal that connects your weeping center with your underwear.

“Fuuuuck, querida, you’re fucking soaked,” Frankie moans, inhaling the intoxicating scent near your glossy slit. You step out of your panties, and he grabs them, tossing them to Santi. The man on the couch catches them with one hand, bringing them immediately to his nose and sniffing deeply. 

“Goddamn,” Santi grits out, “she smells so fucking good, hermano.” He brings the gusset of the lace garment to his mouth, gingerly licking the slick off, groaning at the taste. You gasp at the sight, a wave of wetness trickling down your channel. “Tastes amazing too,” he adds, leaning back into the couch cushions and stuffing your panties into his pocket.

Frankie pushes your dress up to your waist and moves your left thigh to rest on his shoulder, spreading you open. He splays your lips open with his thumbs, staring at your pussy glistening in the fire’s light, on display for both him and Santi. He licks a steady strip from the bottom to the top, swirling around your clit at the end. You moan loudly, leaning back against the railing for support.

“Oh bebita, listen to those sweet sounds you’re making for Frankie,” Santi croons from the couch. “He must be making that pussy feel so good.”

“Yes, Santi,” you gasp, swallowing thickly as your eyes close in pleasure. “He’s so fucking good with his tongue.” You hear Santi rumble deep in his chest in response.

Frankie begins licking, sucking, and tapping on your clit exactly like he knows you like it, gripping your cheeks with both hands and massaging them. You writhe against his face, rocketing faster towards your impending orgasm. When you look up, you see Santi palming his cock through his pants, the bulge straining against the linen. Your cunt clenches at the image before you. Frankie can tell you’re close, so he slips two of his fingers into his mouth momentarily to slick them up and then plunges them into your warm cunt. You throw your head back, nearly screaming in ecstasy. Your grip tightens on the railing.

“I know you’re close, querida,” Frankie growls. “Let Santi see how pretty you look when you come.” Frankie then hooks his fingers just right inside of you and hits that soft spot that sends you into orbit, squealing. You feel everything tighten and then release, your orgasm rippling through your core and into your extremities. Frankie and Santi both moan at the sights and sounds of you reaching your peak, Frankie lapping up every drop of release from you.

“Good fucking girl, mamacita,” Santi says, getting up from the couch and stalking towards the both of you. Frankie gets off of his knees, easing your leg off his shoulder while wiping a hand across his drenched mouth. He knows exactly what Santi wants, so he moves back a couple of steps. You almost stumble, legs like jelly, and Santi catches your waist.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, and his assessing gaze breaks through the post-orgasm haze you’re in. “I really want to taste that perfect cunt, baby,” Santi whispers. “Can I do that for you?” You look at him, hesitating for a moment only because this is a line you’ve not crossed with Santi before. You nod clearly at him. Santi shakes his head. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Santi,” you breathe. “Please put your mouth on me.” Santi groans in anticipation and starts walking backwards, pulling you with him. When you look at him in slight confusion, a sheepish smile passes briefly over his lips.

“Bad knees,” he reminds you, and you laugh. “Kneeling on concrete would kill me.” He tilts his chin to Frankie. “Fish, open the door to the bedroom. I’m gonna lay her down. And bring the bottle.” Frankie obliges, sliding open the other glass door to the expansive bedroom and grabbing the mezcal bottle.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You sigh a yes, and Santi kisses you softly at first, then deeper. He tastes like cinnamon, tropical fruits, and smoky liquor. Moaning quietly, you start to lose yourself in his kiss as he moves the both of you backwards into the bedroom. 

The California king size bed is draped in soft taupes and creams, the bedding a gauzy cotton that feels incredible on your skin as Santi gently lays you on it. He pulls your dress up your body, and you arch your back to help him remove it over your head. As your bare body is exposed to him, glowing in the low light, he sucks in a breath. Frankie places the mezcal bottle on the bedside table, then strips out of everything except his black boxer briefs, his length fully hard against his left thigh, and sits down on a sleek chaise lounger in the corner, watching you and Santi.

Santi strips off his shirt and then climbs onto the bed over you, slowly sliding his hands over your soft skin as he goes. You shift on the bed at his touch, back arching a bit and thighs rubbing together. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he reaches your head, forearms bracketing either side of your face. His body is so close to yours yet not touching.

Moaning, you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls and pull briefly. Santi bites your lower lip in response with a small growl. Sitting up, he grabs the mezcal off the bedside table.

“Open,” he commands, taking a swig from the glass bottle. You obey, and Santi leans over your open mouth and fucking spits the mezcal into it. You swallow, moaning at the taste, the alcohol and him. He kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth, and you whimper, your legs dropping open of their own accord.

Santi notices and chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he purrs. “Dirty girl.” He kisses and nips along your ear and neck, across your collarbone, and down your chest. Reaching your nipples, he swirls his tongue around and then gently nips each of them. You feel slick pooling at your entrance, starting to drip down your inner thighs. Santi traces his tongue down your belly and to the curls above your pussy, inhaling deeply. He pushes your thighs open further and groans at the sight.

“Goddamn, you’re drenched,” he grits out, shuffling down to put his face at your center. You glance over at Frankie in the corner, and notice he has his cock out, slowly stroking the length. You whimper at the sight and Frankie licks his lips. You feel a sudden pinch at your inner thigh and whip your head back to the man between your legs.

“Eyes on me, hermosa,” Santi orders. “I want you to look right at me when I eat this pretty pussy.” And with that, he dives in.

Santi is a messier lover than Frankie, who usually eats you out with absolute precision, priding himself with knowing exactly how to make you come as fast as possible, and repeat the process until you’re crying out from overstimulation. Santi, however, is licking at you like he wants to drown himself in your cunt. His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes across your slit, sucking on your lips and clit, biting at your thighs, shoving his tongue deep into your channel. 

“So fucking sweet,” Santi pants out in a daze, separating his mouth from your sopping cunt for just a moment, and then goes back in for more. You mewl and grip the bed sheets as he continues to ravage you.

Your moans of pleasure stir something in Frankie, who gets up from his seat and walks over to the bed, his need to touch you nearly insatiable.

“Frankie,” you whine as you see him, your eyes hazy with lust, reaching out to him. 

“I’m right here, querida,” he reassures you, then gets onto the bed, placing himself behind you. You scooch up the bed so that you’re sitting in between his spread legs, your back to his bare chest. You can feel his hard length against you, silken and hot, his precum smearing slick against your skin. Frankie kisses your forehead, then leans forward and grabs your legs behind the knees, pulling back and spreading you impossibly wider for Santi. The man between your thighs groans, slipping two fingers into you, making your back arch even more.

“Does our little slut like to be spread out? Do you like Frankie holding your legs open for me, bebita?” Santi growls, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You cry out at his words, throwing your head back against Frankie’s shoulder. One of your hands grabs Frankie’s thigh, and the other one grips Santi’s hair once again.

“Yes,” you respond, pushing his head back towards your dripping slit. “Lick my pussy like you mean it, Santi.” He groans deep in his chest and dives back in, and you feel Frankie bite the junction between your neck and shoulder in arousal. Santi continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it in tiny circles. You feel your orgasm begin to rise in your lower belly, intensifying with each thrust and lick. Santi feels your slick walls bear down on his fingers.

“That’s it, honey, I know you want to come for me,” Santi says.

“Give it to us,” Frankie whispers in your ear. “Come for me and Santi.”

Frankie’s command is all it takes to snap the tether in your core, shattering you into pieces as the pleasure courses hot through your body. You scream their names as your pussy gushes wave after wave of slick, running down your thighs and Santi’s fingers, into his waiting mouth, licking and slurping obscenely, his fingers continuing to press into your g-spot to prolong your high.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now,” Santi grits out, pussydrunk. He stands up and hurriedly shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, his thick cock springing free and bobbing slightly. You feel your mouth water; his dick is just as gorgeous as Frankie’s. 

Santi meets your eyes once again. “Do you want me to fuck you while Frankie holds you open, sweetheart?” Santi asks you. You pause, your pleasure-addled mind narrowing in on one idea – having them both.

“I want you both,” you moan. Santi’s eyes widen a bit and then dart to Frankie. They share a smirk and then Frankie turns to you in his lap.

“Querida, how do you want us?” Frankie inquires. “One at a time or at the same time?”

“At the same time,” you whimper. “I want you both in my pussy.”

Santi and Frankie groan in unison. Santi smiles wickedly, looking at Frankie. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

“Just like we used to,” Frankie chuckles darkly, and your fuzzy mind tucks away their exchange for later. “We have to get her ready, then.” He slowly releases your knees and turns to you, kissing the side of your face and lightly nibbling your ear. He grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning your head sideways to meet his eyes. “We’re going to work you open first, okay, baby?” he intones softly. You nod your head yes. Santi and Frankie’s eyes meet, and Santi opens the bedside table drawer, grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it to Frankie. 

He catches it, reading the label. “Guava?” Frankie asks quizzically. “What happened to the mango-pineapple one?”

Santi shrugs. “I still have it,” he explains, “but guava goes better with pussy and mezcal.” You huff a laugh and Frankie smiles, kissing your forehead again and sweeping your hair out of your face.

“Guess we have an edible lube connoisseur here,” jokes Frankie, opening the cap and pouring some of the slick liquid onto his thick digits. 

The sweet, juicy fruit scent wafts through the air, and Santi grabs the bottle from him, doing the same while shaking his head incredulously.“It’s not my fault that you have no sense of refinement,” he retorts. Frankie just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetness?” Frankie murmurs. You nod your head and breathe out a “yes, baby”. Frankie reaches in front of himself and slips his two lubed fingers into you, and you whimper softly. Santi follows suit, slipping two of his fingers into you next, kneeling between your legs. You feel stretched full but so turned on. They allow you a few moments to adjust, and when you nod your head, they begin swirling their fingers in opposite directions. A moan rips from your throat and you grab at the bedsheets. They continue swirling and pressing their fingers in and out, and the sight of your pussy filled with their fingers gets the both of them rock hard.

The cloud of euphoria in your head is all-consuming as they continue, your arousal reaching an almost painful peak. Suddenly you grab their wrists and both men stop immediately, concern crossing their faces. “Are you okay, bebita?” Frankie asks, his brows furrowing. 

You nod your head rapidly, and then bleat out, “I need you both inside me right now.” Santi and Frankie grin at your fucked out expression, looking at each other conspiratorially.

“Well, you heard the lady, Pope,” Frankie says. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He shifts you forward as he moves to the side, pulling his underwear all the way off. He lays on his back on the bed, his hard cock against his stomach dripping pre-cum. “I want you to ride me, hermosa, and then Santi is going to enter you from behind as you lean forward,” Frankie explains.

You nod your head in understanding and straddle his thighs, facing him. Frankie hands you the lube bottle. You dribble a stream onto his waiting thickness, and he hisses as the cool liquid hits his hot velvet skin. Grabbing his slick length, you shuffle forward and guide him into your channel, whining when he bottoms out easily. Frankie reaches up and grips your hips, guiding you to ride him.

After a minute, he looks over your shoulder at Santi, who is slowly stroking his dick. “I think she’s ready, Fish,” Santi says, and Frankie nods once. Santi gets on the bed, coming to his knees behind you and grabbing your hips. Frankie slides his hands to your back, gently pulling you towards him until you’re leaning forward, laying chest to chest, your pussy on full display for Santi, stuffed with Frankie’s cock. You hear Santi groan behind you at the sight.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, bebita,” Santi admits as he slicks up his hardness with the lube. “Been thinking about being inside this pussy for months.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you tease, looking back at him. “Better hurry before the offer expires.” Santi smirks at you as he places his hands on your hips.

The moment you feel the head of Santi’s cock slide into your pussy, you gasp as the sting of the stretch hits you. You hear Santi behind you grit out a quiet “fuck”. Slowly he continues sinking into your hot, wet heat. Reaching forward, he circles your throbbing clit softly, making you whine but relax, allowing him to slip deeper into you, inch by inch. Your pussy twitches and both Santi and Frankie choke on moans. 

When he fills you as far as you can take both of them, the three of you hold still. As the seconds pass, the sting gives way as you adjust to being this full. The result is rolling waves of lightning sparking through your veins with each minute movement inside of you. You let out a high-pitched whine as a knot of white-hot pleasure tightens in your core.

“Mierda, bebita,” Frankie moaned, “are you gonna come just from both of us being in you?”

“God, she feels so fucking good,” Santi murmurs, almost to himself. Both of them are gripping you tightly as you continue to whimper and whine, your high quickly building. Your breathing intensifies, and you start to shake. 

It’s so much, being so full of them physically, and the thought of them both in you - two of the most attractive, sexy men you know - is nearly making you lose your mind. But you don’t want to come before your boys have even gotten to move. It almost feels like a weakness, being this fucked out for them.

“It’s ok, sweetness, let go,” says Frankie softly, realizing you’re holding off for them. He presses a kiss to your neck and it’s your undoing. 

The brush of his lips against that sensitive spot right under your ear pushes you off the edge and you wail, your pleasure cresting as you jerk under their firm grips. They moan loudly, your pleasure stoking theirs. The three of you catch your breaths as you come down from your high.

Frankie looks up at you, eyes pitch black, swimming with devotion for you. Santi strokes your hips gently, his strong hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks you sweetly, rubbing his hands across your back, his thighs clenching from holding back. 

You take a shaky breath. “So fucking full,” you respond, and then giggle softly at your obvious observation. The boys laugh too, and then moan slightly as your bodies shift. Santi squeezes your hips and asks, “Are you ready for us to move, hermosa?” Your head is swimming in endorphins as you whimper out, “Yes, Santi. I need both of you to fuck me now.”

With that, the two men lock eyes and nod, beginning an apparently practiced dance of their cocks. As Frankie slides himself out, Santi pushes in, and then they reverse roles. You cry out in ecstasy. It’s so much more than you could have ever imagined.

Frankie and Santi start off with slow, shallow thrusts in and out, gradually stretching you around their lengths. When Frankie hits a particularly sweet spot, you moan fervently and more slick coats them, making them both moan back in response. The friction between their cocks and your walls is delicious.

“Fuck, bebita, you look incredible taking the both of us,” Santi says, gripping your hips harder, a sheen of sweat glimmering across his body. 

Frankie hums in agreement. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises. You preen at their words, arching your back to change the angle. Santi whimpers and kisses along your spine, worshiping your body. The room is thick with the smell of sex, guava, and mezcal, the squelching sounds of your pussy weaving between all three of your moans and cries of pleasure.

The boys begin to speed up the wetter you get, starting to fuck into you with vigor. You feel like your whole body is vibrating. Leaning down to kiss Frankie changes the angle once again, and Santi lets out yet another whimper as you slide your tongue along Frankie’s.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, that’s perfect,” he gasps, getting even harder inside of you. He starts to rub your clit in tight circles, making you yelp. “I want you to come one more time for us before we fill you up,” he continues. “Gonna make your pussy milk our cocks. C’mon, honey, you’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper. “I - it’s so much…”

Frankie lets out a growl. “Oh, querida, I know you can come for us one more time,” he says. “Just think about how full of cock you are right now.”

He’s right. The psychological thrill of having both men inside of you is the push you need. You start to shake again, everything tensing up. Both men moan as your channel pulls tight.

Santi leans down to your ear, still thumbing your clit. “Fucking come for us. That’s an order.”

You scream so loudly when your fourth orgasm hits you, that you’re grateful that Santi has no neighbors - because they definitely would have called the cops by now. Tears leak down your face from the intensity, and Santi whimpers loudly as he thrusts in and comes deep in you, his hot seed coating your walls. The tightness of your pussy and Santi shoving deep end up pushing Frankie’s cock out, but he couldn’t care less. 

When Santi’s strokes slow and then stop, indicating he’s finished, Frankie pushes him off of you, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He shoves your legs apart, and pushes his dick harshly into you. Boneless, you lay there, moaning and taking it, unable to say anything coherent except for Frankie’s name. Your boyfriend presses your legs even further towards your shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he fucks into you hard and fast, Santi’s cum forced out of you with every snap of Frankie’s hips.

“God, you look like such a goddess right now,” Frankie babbles, nearly snarling, “so full of cum. You like that? You want me to fill you up good? You’re gonna be leaking our cum for days, querida.”

“Yes, Frankie, yes,” you moan, “please fill me up. I love your cum in me. I wanna be so full of both of you.”

With a shout, Frankie bares his teeth and comes, getting as deep as possible and filling up your cunt just like he promised. You feel his cum thick and hot in you, triggering another moan. 

Frankie drops your knees back down to the bed, nearly collapsing down against your chest while the two of you pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths. Looking over, you spot Santi sitting up at the corner of the bed, looking disheveled but utterly sated, his now-soft cock still shiny with lube and your combined releases. 

You reach your hand out to him, and he crawls towards you, slotting himself next to one side, while Frankie hisses as he pulls out of you and lays next to you on your other side. He smothers your neck and face with kisses, and you giggle, feeling Santi pepper kisses across the top of your head and stroking the underside of your breast affectionately with his thumb.

You let out a contented sigh. “Wow, that was…”

Frankie hums out an “incredible” at the exact same time Santi rumbles a “so fucking good” to complete your statement, which makes the three of you laugh. Giggles subsiding, something they said in the heat of the moment suddenly pops into your mind.

“Wait a second,” you say as you sit up. Both men lazily look up at you, faces blissed out, waiting for your question. “Frankie, you said, ‘just like old times’... How many times have you double teamed with Santi?”

The two of them look at each other with nearly identical smirks. Santi pipes up first. “Well, back in our Army grunt days,” he explains, “when we’d go on leave together, we kind of had this habit of teaming up to pick up women.” Your jaw drops slightly, and Santi looks amused at your shock.

“It was a fairly effective strategy,” Frankie continues. “Trying to land a girl alone was a crapshoot. But with the both of us offering her a night to remember?” Frankie huffs. “It seemed like fantasy fulfillment for almost every woman we fucked together.”

Your eyes rake over the two of them, gloriously naked and handsome as ever, in bed with you. Yeah, you can see the appeal. 

“Okay, but who came up with the idea?” You ask, then immediately put up a hand into the air. “WAIT, no, I know exactly who… Santi, you slut!”

Frankie lets out a loud bark of a laugh as Santi rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed. 

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t benefit from it, idiota!” Santi grumbles. Frankie reaches over, finally successfully ruffling Santi’s hair. Santi flinches and bats Frankie’s hand away, making you shake with laughter as you lounge in the post-coital haze with your boyfriend and his best friend. You don’t blame those women they slept with one bit. This was a night you will surely remember.

No pressure tags: @mermaidgirl30 @legendary-pink-dot @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem @arcanefox207 @campingwiththecharmings @exquisit3corpse @gutsby @honeyedmiller @lavendertales @lu62 @luxurychristmaspudding @ozarkthedog @qveerthe0ry @swiftispunk @sheepdogchick3 @thatshortgirlwithglasses @wannab-urs @musings-of-a-rose