#Shot by Frankie Fire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellishjoel · 4 months

Text

tequila!

6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter

summary: a night off and some well deserved drinks put you and frankie in the same spot on a friday night.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), food and alcohol consumption, intro to triple frontier friends, reader is mentioned having hair and wearing perfume, swearing, pet names (princess), jealousy, angst, hot girls cry in the bathroom, smut, fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, discussions of men being douchebags. if I missed anything, please let me know!

A/N: it’s been since halloween! how are we doing?! here’s more frankie and princess figuring out their shit and actually communicating! can we get a round of applause? thank you to @undercoverpena for the emotional and plot support! thank you to @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

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The town was small, but you guys knew how to kick it.

Pool balls clattered, people cheered, and butts of beer bottles clinked in celebration.

This was exactly what you needed, a night off and a fucking drink.

You tried to tell yourself that your spat with Frankie a month ago hadn’t taken its toll on you, but he was plaguing your thoughts. The fastest way to forget your inhibitions? To forget Frankie?

Tequila.

Sideways was known for breaking health code violations and overserving its customers. Despite their negative Yelp reviews, they were the only bar in town packed on this Friday night.

You were two and a half drinks in with your girlfriends, the ones you never get to see from working late shifts. They were sweet and funny as hell. They were the pick-me-up that you really needed after what happened with Frankie.

It was still sitting in the back of your mind, playing on a loop like Christmas songs do in the winter.

“What do you want from me, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

Heat scorches your throat, burning and scraping at the inside as you accept a shot from a stranger. Not your smartest decision, but you suppose you haven’t been making a lot of those as of late anyway.

Just as you take a deep sigh, you see it. That stupid hat and nest of dark curls accompanied by broad shoulders. What was Frankie doing here?

You try to drop your head, avert your gaze, but it's pointless. The moment your eyes meet, time warps into slow motion. His usual honey-brown eyes look oaky-brown in the low light ambiance Sideways provides. His face softens at the sight of you, taking you in. Even as he walks past your small table, his head cranes to keep you in sight.

Then his friends slap his back and keep him moving, their large and loud group weaving through the sea of strangers. And it’s over. He’s gone, probably somewhere tucked in the back of the bar ordering drinks. Time returns to its normal pace, and the loud hum of drunk twenty-somethings returns.

“Jeez, Fish, that’s like the second bullseye tonight.” Frankie’s friends playfully clap with mustaches tickled with white foam from their beers.

Frankie shrugs a shoulder, glances at your table, sees your pretty smile and the way your hair swishes before his eyes return to the dart board. An angry huff leaves his lips before he raises his arm, eyes narrowed on the dart board a good seven feet away from him, before he releases the dart like a lightning fast whip and he sinks it right into the center.

His friends howl, a little smile on his lips at their approval.

“Make that three!” One chimes in. “He’s hot tonight, folks! Get’em while he’s hot!”

Despite being with his friends and cheap alcohol, Frankie didn’t feel very happy. Not after what went down after the last time he saw you. And now, you were here, which was making the pistons in his brain fire a whole lot faster. He wonders what happened, why you threw up your hands that night and pushed him away.

Work has been hell trying to avoid you. Nothing more than giving him orders and brushing past him with your pretty smelling perfume that has put him in a trance since the first day he started at the diner. Now you were here, huffs of people in between you two, and he could still pick out the sweet blossomy smell he considers to be your own.

“I need a fucking drink,” Frankie mutters, plucking the darts from the board as he slaps them in the hands of his buddy for his turn.

Frankie pushes through people to the bar, gently rapping his knuckles against the dark wood of the bar for a beer. His head dips down to look for his wallet, pulling it from his back pocket. The last thing he expects when he looks up is… not you.

“Do you know that girl or something?” Your friend nudges, eyes still locked on the glowing redhead who had approached Frankie at the bar.

“No.” You mutter, sucking in at the side of your cheek as you watch her put the moves on an adorably awkward Frankie.

“You sure seem to act like you know her, you won’t stop staring.” She teases before she’s distracted by one of your girlfriends spilling off her barstool.

All you can see is the way she blocks your view of Frankie, doing all the typical flirtatious moves you can get away with when you’re hot. Twisting her hair around her finger, smiling at Frankie like he was the funniest guy in the world, leaning into his front. She had a gorgeous body, tight waist, glowing smile, and a huge fucking rack she purposely accentuated when she threw her head back in laughter.

First off, you hate the way she looks at him like he’s already hers. Second, when did Frankie become so goddamn funny?

You huff out a sigh and throw back another tequila shot as soon as it’s delivered.

Jealousy wasn’t your thing. Frankie just knew how to pinch your fucking nerve. It’s so fresh still, you know? Now here he was, talking to another girl. Part of you feels like you deserve it. You cut him loose, there were no more strings that tied you two together. So why did you feel like this? Angry, annoyed, sad. Jealous.

Fuck that.

“Another tequila?” The bartender perks up upon seeing you nudge your way to the front of the bar’s counter.

You give him a tight nod and a blank mhm leaving your mouth, leaning over the counter as you wait.

His cologne shatters your thoughts. “Hey.”

You look up to see Frankie has turned away from his girl, eyeing you over. You couldn’t deny how good you looked tonight, taking advantage of your one night off to wear something that accentuated your figure.

And it was catching more eyes than Frankie’s. The woman beside him glares at you as if you took her favorite toy on the playground, as if she had dibs.

You hate to admit that your eyes drift as well, a certain sexually charged energy between you both. His classic khaki jacket and ballcap accompanied by a dark wash pair of jeans. His stupid hands are stuffed in his stupid pockets, and his stupid chocolate curls curve up toward the brim of his hat.

Frankie’s eyes fell to your sweet neck, then to the curves of your body, your mouth going dry at the way he was drinking you up.

“Hey,” you muster up, giving him a tight-lipped grin as you nod as a greeting.

You want him. He looks so fucking good tonight. But he already had a date going, you didn’t need to interrupt. You nip at your lower lip and force yourself to stare elsewhere.

“Rum and coke, please, Frankie,” The woman coos, an attempt to stray Frankie’s attention from you. She’s obviously seen the way he looks at you, both of you practically eye fucking each other right in front of her. You kind of got a kick out of getting under her skin, though.

“Hi,” you say as you reach your hand past Frankie, offering the woman a handshake and your name. “I work with Frankie.”

She gives you a snotty little hmph, nodding tightly instead of shaking your hand.

“I’ll meet you at the table with my drink.” She insists to Frankie, leaving the two of you on your own, but not without a squeeze to his broad arm and a certain look in your direction.

“Wow,” you fake applaud, “she’s a real keeper, Frankie. No, really, I mean it. Didn’t know you had a thing for girls with tits bigger than their face.”

“I just met her ten minutes ago,” Frankie mutters as he’s served his beer and the girl’s rum and coke, as well as your tequila shot being delivered.

You try not to roll your eyes too obviously. “Well, she’s certainly all over you.”

“What do you care?” He counters, finally facing you again, his eyes still lingering on your body for longer than you know he should. “You came up here to us, princess. If there’s something you wanna say, say it.”

A larger group comes in through the front door and pushes through to the bar, a light gasp leaving you as you’re shoved into Frankie, your fronts aligning. You feel his toned torso and smell his fresh cologne as his hand instinctually clutches your waist to keep you upright.

Both of you take one another in again, not being able to fight the tension between you both that could be cut with a knife.

The last time you were this close was Halloween. The last time he touched you was Halloween. Now, he was touching you again, and god, all you wanted was for him to flip his hat around, duck down, and kiss you. Kiss you hard, make up for all the time you had lost.

Have you ever missed someone so much you feel physically sick? You had no idea how much your little talks in the kitchen meant to you until you forced Frankie to let you go. You had the overwhelming urge to run away, like he was too close, he would learn everything about you, and he’d leave after finding out you’re just a broken plate that can’t be glued together.

You were unfixable. And Frankie was a fixer, down to his bones, and in his heart, he would try to mend you back together, only to be disappointed after many failed attempts. You wouldn’t put him through that, and more importantly, you didn’t want anyone to try. It would just hurt you more.

But you looked at each other a little too long to be just friends.

If there’s something you wanna say, say it.

I can’t.

Frankie’s eyes sink as you throw back the shot, feeling the liquid burn your throat and then your chest again. This is what you’d rather feel than hurt.

“Well,” you say, a bit raspy from the fresh alcohol. You gently push your hand into Frankie’s abdomen in an attempt to squeeze out from between him and a random drunkard, nails sinking into his toned torso. “Have a good rest of your night. See you at Tommy’s.”

Your shoulders swivel back and forth as you carve through the bar to the rest of your friends, toppling over people to get back to your seat as you sigh defeatedly. God, why are you torturing me?

It’s an hour later, followed by two tall water glasses. Your friends have ordered some appetizers off the menu to soak up the alcohol. And because you were all damn hungry. Your eyes stray to Frankie’s table every few minutes.

You couldn’t help it, you were overthinking. Was he looking at you when you looked away? Was he not looking at all, too into Miss Red? The more you thought, the more your chest felt like it wanted to give way. But you weren’t prepared for what you saw the next moment you looked up.

Big Red decided to make her move, her long fingernail catching Frankie’s chin and swiftly guiding him to face her as she leaned in and kissed him.

She kissed him, your Frankie, she kissed him. Put her pink lipstick on his mouth and marked him as her own.

Goosebumps flood over your skin, eyes sinking as you watched helplessly from across the room. Suddenly, it was all too much. The loud talking, the buzzing of people, the alcohol, her and him, it was all too much.

Your feet find the floor before you can stop yourself, you feel like you might shed a tear in your race to the bathroom. You tug on the handle, and it’s locked.

“Occupied!” Some snotty girl whines.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you shout amongst the crowd of people to ensure she can hear the urgency in your voice. Your throat feels thick with wetness.

Finally, the door opens, and the woman looks you up and down in annoyance. You don’t care. You put a hand on her shoulder to guide her out of the doorway, trying to push yourself in and close the door. Not before a familiar pair of thunderous boot steps echo in your ears.

You let out a grunt as you attempt to slam the door, but you see a hand curve around the frame. He speaks your name, it’s Frankie. Your stomach falls, and you quickly shake your head, feeling angry tears threaten to spill.

“Fuck off,” you say behind gritted teeth, attempting to use your body to finish closing the door. But he’s a hell of a lot stronger than you.

“Come on, princess, open up, just wanna talk.” He pushes himself in, tall figure looming over yours as you look away with annoyance. He flips the lock and presses his hand above the wall you’re leaning back on. “What’s wrong?”

Anger surges through your voice, planting your hands on his chest as you attempt to shove him away again. You find yourself confused when your own hands curl in on his shirt and bring him closer. “I told you to fuck off, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He says as his hands attempt to cradle your face, but you shove them down.

“Then stop looking,” You quickly shake your head, the heat of his hands making your stomach churn.

Suddenly, you don’t want to cry, you want to shout.

“I saw you kiss her!”

Frankie’s eyes met your glaring ones, your lips parting as you let out panted breaths.

“I didn’t kiss her,” he starts to say before you interject.

“I saw you! Why are you lying to my face?” You accuse, feeling your body flush with warmth as your hands gently push at his pecs. “Get away from me.” You mutter, but Frankie always returns despite how many times you push him away.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere until you listen to me, okay?” Frankie goes to cup your cheeks again, but the warning look on your face makes him groan in annoyance and drop his head before he comes back up to look at you. “She kissed me, I didn’t kiss her back, and-and I didn’t want her, okay? I want you, I want you, I want you, goddamit, I want you!”

You quickly shake your head, feeling your hoop earrings gently hit your cheeks. “No.” You whisper, feeling small under his gaze. And he’s looking at you again like you put the sun in the sky. You absolutely hate it in some ways, but he looks at you with such clarity that it makes your heart flutter. Like he knows his place is with you.

“No, what?” He challenges. You find yourself fisting at his shirt, both in comfort and also a way to keep him at a distance.

“No, you don’t want me, Frankie,” Your face is pinched in anger, eyes searching for his intentions. You watch as his face sinks at your words, hurt by what you’ve said.

“How can you fuckin’ say that? How can you say I don’t want you? You don’t get to decide that for me, alright?” His voice is stern, eyes narrowed in on yours as he fills the space between you two, no matter if you take a step back, he’s right there on your toes. “I like you.”

“You don’t know me, not really,” You say.

“I want to, though. I’m scared as hell to want you, but here I am, telling you I want you anyway because that’s how much I care. I want you more than I fear the rejection on Halloween happening all over again.”

All you can do is shake your head, feeling the mixture of angry sad tears start to melt at your eyes again. You hurt him so badly on Halloween, yet he was still here trying to say how much you mean to him.

“Frankie,” your lower lip wobbles, straying eye contact.

“No, listen to me, I’ve got more to say,” he says as he cradles your face once more, and this time, you don’t push him away. His beautiful brown eyes pour into your own, and you feel so drunk that he’s kissing your soul with his eyes.

“I haven’t even missed you,”

“Bullshit, I know you fuckin’ miss me because I miss you.” He sees through all your lies, you feel transparent as he holds you close, backing you up against the sink as he strokes a thumb along your cheekbone.

“No,” you start to say, shaking your head as tears cloud your vision.

“No, no, no,” he mocks, “Is that all you can say?”

You despise how much your throat feels swollen, and your words sound thick with wanting to cry. “I just wanted you to fuck me, but then I got greedy, and I wanted you to love me, too. But that would be a waste of your time, Frankie, you need to listen to me.”

The admission felt like a dam breaking inside of you, and Frankie only pulls you closer. Suddenly, the buzz of everyone else outside the bar died down, and all you could think or hear was Frankie.

“Loving someone is never a waste,” Frankie whispers.

You playfully scoff and wipe under your eyes around his hand. “You don’t love me.”

“No, not yet. But I could. I know I could. Because this past month has been hell without talking to you. I don’t wanna walk around the diner, pretending like you don’t exist or that you don’t do something to me. You do everything to me, you are everything.”

Frankie starts swiping away the tears you didn’t even know were falling, taking them away with the pads of his thumbs.

“I think of you at two in the morning when I can’t sleep, you’re always the first place my mind runs to. You stayed over once, once, and my body just fuckin’ craves the way I got to hold you. It was addictive, how it felt to finally be close to you, when you finally let me in.”

You force yourself to close your eyes and try to breathe, his words feeling like the powers a hurricane carries. Your shaky fists are still clutching his shirt at his sides, not willing to let him go after his confession.

After you gather a few breaths, you meet his eyes. “Frankie, once you care, you’re fucked.” It’s a warning.

Now, he’s the one shaking his head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I’ve cared for you ever since I started working at Tommy’s, and even more when you kissed me at the Christmas party last year.”

You playfully scoff and break a smile. “We were both drunk.”

Frankie shrugs. “Yeah, and I wished I was sober so I could remember every bit of how good it felt. Now we’re almost a year later. It took me from December to August to make another real move on you, and I don’t want to let you go. Not after having the real thing. This feeling doesn’t just go away. I miss you.”

You nip at your lower lip, goosebumps flying across your skin away.

“I just don’t want to get hurt,” you whimper, your forehead gently leaning into the support of his large palms. Your glassy eyes make him melt.

He hushes you gently, your voices growing softer the closer he comes to you. Your noses gently brush, making your wet eyelashes flutter. Frankie sighs before he speaks. “If you promise to stay, I’ll promise not to leave.”

Frankie’s care for you was evident. You knew pushing him away was wrong, trying to save yourself only wounded you both. But what a waste it would be not to try with someone who was as good-hearted as Frankie.

The douchebag you once knew was long gone. In fact, it feels like he started to drift away after last December. Because he had made up his mind a year ago that he wanted to be with you, and he would change for the better to make it happen. He’s been showing you all this time what you mean to him, that he wouldn’t hurt you.

You must have left him hanging for too long because he parts his lips to speak your name.

“Stop talking,” you whisper as you lean up and crash your lips against his. No more words needed to be said.

You can feel Frankie’s cheeks perk up from his smile, both of your mouths upturned, happy to be in one another’s arms again. Being apart felt like a drought, and he was finally touching you. And both of you were fucking starved.

Frankie’s once soft movements turn greedy. As do yours. Hands are gliding over waists, teeth are tugging lips, and your core physically buzzes as Frankie flips his hat to face backward without breaking your kiss. Jesus Christ. His tongue glides against your bottom lip and you easily part your lips to grant the access he so desperately craves.

“Lemme make it up to you,” Frankie mutters against your mouth, tasting remnants of his ale and he, your citrussy-lime tongue.

“Please,” you beg.

He doesn’t waste another moment, nipping at your bottom lip and making you mewl while his large palms find the back of your thighs. His strength makes lifting you look easy, gasping into his mouth as he sets you on top of the sink while his hands fasten on your waist once more.

You push his hand towards the button of your jeans and he pops it open with one hand.

“Fuck,” you moan out, jaw dropped as his hand pushes past the band of your panties, large fingers gliding down through your slick, then back up your valley. A breath catches in your throat, your back archiving off the mirror as Frankie takes the opportunity to bury his head into your chest, planting kisses along your breasts over your shirt. He eventually moves his lips up your body, across your sweet neck, to where he nibbles on your jawline.

Your jaw drops against his cheek, your faces smooshed together as you feel his familiar stubble scrape against your soft skin. It’s like there’s a non-stopping rollercoaster in your mind, with his fingers moving up and down your soaking pussy, you can’t fucking think.

A weak cry leaves your lips against the shell of his ear as he plunges two fingers into your entrance. You brace an arm around his shoulder and pull him into you, ensuring he keeps his damn fingers stay buried in your cunt.

“Please,” you whimper, grinding your hips with vigor against his hand, his wrist rolling with you.

“That’s it baby,” his silken voice purrs with praise, “let go for me.”

You become completely pliant under his touch, under the lead of his fingers. He was already filling you up, you couldn’t imagine being filled up by the girth of his cock after a month without it.

With two fingers inside of you and his thumb working sweet circles around your clit, you feel as if you might explode. He walks a line between kissing and sucking on your neck, the surface of your skin becoming clammy and raw.

There’s a sense of safety in his arms, his tense bicep that’s hardened from the one that’s working up into you.

You barely acknowledge the knock on the door, forcing yourself to bite down onto Frankie’s shoulder and his jacket flap to keep yourself from spilling out loose moans. Loud music and even louder chanter is muffled by the door.

“Fuck, fuck, Frankie-” you moan, mouth stuffed and jumbling your words.

Frankie clamps his free hand over your mouth, guiding your head to rest back against the mirror once more, your hot pants fanning against his palm.

“So fuckin’ loud, don’t remember you bein’ this loud for me.” He says with a wide cocky smirk. You will yourself to roll your eyes, but they end up staying at the back of your head as you continue to fuck yourself against his fingers.

He curls them inside of you, your back arching as you feel your stomach swirl with excitement. Your small hands clench at his jacket, gasping shakily as your high nears closer.

Your muffled moans stay concealed by Frankie’s hand clamped over you, letting your weak moans and cries land into his palm. It felt so good, the way your clit twitches under his control and his fingers work effortlessly to plunge deeper and deeper into your depths.

There’s another incessant knock at the door. Fuck, there was no way to be quiet.

Frankie smirks wider as your walls clench around his fingers, one long moan of his name landing muffled against his fingers as his eyes fixate on your own, spilling your orgasm across his fingers.

“Good girl, just needed to get off, didn’t you?” He belittles.

You sigh weakly against his hand, hearing still fuzzy from feeling so over the moon. A slow, tired smirk grazes your lips as you playfully push his face away.

“Such a douchebag.” You mutter, nipping at your lower lip while Frankie gently removes his fingers from your entrance. You feel empty, you hate it.

Frankie raises his two fingers to your lips, your eyes studying the pretty cream he’s gathered amongst the mix of your slick.

“Taste yourself, baby.” Such a fucking charmer. You can’t help the heat that gathers at the back of your neck, shyly leaning in and wrapping your lips around the tips of his fingers. You lock your eyes with his own as you flatten your tongue and hollow your cheeks, sinking your mouth lower and taking him to the knuckle.

Your heart pounds thinking about his cock angrily twitching against his thigh, desperate for his own release. But he’s always put you first. And you always make his loyalty to you worth his while.

Frankie’s cocky face slowly melts as you swallow around his fingers, lips parting as he looks over you in a sense of pride.

Another damn knock on the door. More like an incessant pounding.

He forces himself to release his fingers from your mouth.

“What?” Frankie protectively barked, voice laced with annoyance.

“Fish?” A voice called from the other side. One of his friends.

He looks at you apologetically, grabbing you by your hips and lowering you off the sink. His hands are already on the hem of your jeans, and securing the button while you zip the fly and hurry to make yourselves presentable.

Frankie puts his hand on the knob, ready to flip the lock. He feels compelled to kiss you one more time. He spins on the spot and cups your cheeks, meshing your lips together and pulling your chin up to face him. He savors it, lets his tongue tangle with yours to get that last taste of come on your tastebuds.

He forces himself to let you go, finally opening the door.

“Santi? What, man?” He asks in annoyance, seeing his friend on the other side.

“Sorry, sorry,” he pauses to look past Frankie, to you, a sly little smirk on his lips after he’s put two and two together. “Listen, uh, Benny’s been arrested.”

Frankie shares a look of confusion with you. Frankie and Santi both stand there a little dumbfounded, unsure of what to do.

“Well, come on, he can’t stay there all night. Let’s go.” You urge. It’s enough to snap the two out of their surprised trance. Frankie takes your hand and leads you towards the bar’s exit, pushing people aside with his arms and broad shoulders so no drunk asshole knocks you around in the crowd.

You’re surprised to see his friend, who you’ve gathered is Santi, doing the same. It felt like you had two incredibly handsome escorts. Or maybe a better term would be guard dogs, pretty and sleek Dobermans.

After saying goodnight to your friends and grabbing your purse, Santi catches up you both while Frankie drives his truck.

“This drunk guy came up and started hitting on this girl he knows from.. somewhere.. I don’t know, but then he started getting all belligerent when she rejected him, and Benny stepped in. They started knocking each other around, it was so fuckin’ crowded in there, and I didn’t know where you went. Surprised you guys didn’t hear all the commotion.”

You weren’t surprised you missed the whole fiasco. Frankie had you coming so hard that you saw Jesus Christ himself.

“So, what?” Frankie prodded, annoyance laced in his voice as he drove over the bumpy road, glancing in his rearview mirror every few moments to see you. “The police got called and they both got arrested?”

Santi makes an affirmative humming noise, looking out the window as they pull up to the town’s police department.

“Fuck,” Santi swears as he hops out the back of the truck. “I haven’t done this in a few years. Don’t remember how it goes.”

You jump in before you can stop yourself. “We need to go in, ask for his name, and figure out what he’s being charged with. We pay his bail, he completes his release paperwork, and as long as he didn’t bad mouth any cops in there, we should be in and out, bada-bing-bada-boom.” You say as you clap-wipe your hands in demonstration of how painless this process should be. But Frankie and Santi still look starstruck.

“Don’t ask. Let’s go.” You say as you hop out of the truck, the two men following suit.

You imagined their friend Benny to be this mean, big, bad guy. But you guys didn’t see the way this man smiled upon seeing his friends come to pick him up. He was the definition of a Golden Retriever if we’re still speaking in dog lingo.

Tussled dark blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that would make any person melt. He just wasn’t what you were expecting when you heard that one of Frankie’s drunk asshole friends was arrested. Maybe you expected another stoner-type who didn’t give a fuck. You were wrong.

“Arrested for defending a woman’s honor,” Benny scoffs as he digs his possessions out of a large envelope. You eye the way he delicately places his watch back on his wrist before bumming a cigarette from Frankie. The glow of the lighter illuminates his face a mute orange before the end of his cigarette caught blaze. Then you were all surrounded by the blue of a midnight sky again.

“What, like you wouldn’t do it again?” Santi teases, stuffing his hands in his pockets as the cigarette slowly made its way down the line to Frankie.

“Fuck that, I’d do it again tomorrow if I had to.” He chirps with a laugh. “Fish, you should have heard the way this guy was badmouthing this woman, I mean, the most vulgar shit that came out of his mouth just because she wouldn’t let him buy her a drink.”

“M’glad I wasn’t there. There would have been two guys arrested tonight.” Frankie mutters, the cigarette passing from him to you.

“Wouldn’t believe how often that shit happens.” You mutter before you take a drag. Benny leans forward to take a look at you, maybe just now realizing you were even here.

“Yeah?” He probes for more as you slowly nod, tipping the ash off the end of the cigarette.

“My friend was called a cunt last week after saying no to a guy wanting to sit next to her at the bar. He knew the seat was taken, our other friend just went to the bathroom. He purposely waited until she was alone to make a move.”

“No shit.” Santi hummed curiously.

“Seriously. Called her a fat bitch, said he’d hope somethin’ really bad would happen to her. If I was there, I would have knocked his teeth in.”

Benny slowly smiles, nodding proudly. “I have no doubt. Just wish you didn’t have to do that stuff in the first place.”

You sigh as you glance at Frankie, who’s looking at you with sympathetic eyes. But he knows you don’t really like it when he looks at you like that, so he quickly glances at his shoes.

“Wait,” Benny whispers with a goofy grin. “Fish, is this the girl from the diner you always talk about?”

Even in the dark of night, Frankie’s sweet glowy blush tints his face. Or maybe it was the alcohol, but he wouldn’t have driven if he was that out of it.

“Yeah, yeah, Benny, this is her.”

“Oh shit, hi,” Bennys says as he stands in front of you and offers you his hand to shake. “I know this is kind of a bad start, gettin’ me out of jail and all, but I’m Benny Miller, nice to meet you in person. My guy here,” Benny pauses to playfully yank around Frankie’s shoulder, “he’s always tellin’ us stories about the diner. Can’t think of one you’re not mentioned or the star of the show.”

The smile on your face can’t help but grow as you playfully eye Frankie who is being all too quiet. You hand Frankie the cigarette as a distraction, shaking Benny’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Benny. And trust me, I’ve met guys under worse circumstances. Like working with them at a diner.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Frankie mutters playfully around the cigarette in his mouth.

The whole group erupts into laughter, Benny and Santi both taking the opportunity to say their proper greetings and apologies for busting up your night with their friend.

“I should probably get back to my brother.” Benny hums, motioning his head back to the bar’s general direction. “If he thinks I had to do another overnighter, I owe him twenty bucks.” He teases as you all start piling back into the truck.

Frankie drops Santi and Benny back off at the bar, the entirety of the building shaking with applause and whistles to see that their noble heroes have returned. A very specific pretty blonde rushes up to Benny and thanks him with a kiss.

“And he still gets the girl.” You hum, watching from the passenger side window.

“He always does, that one.” Frankie teases, his hand coming over to rest on your upper thigh, thumb making gentle circles over your jeans. “Lemme take you home.”

You swallow down a lump in your throat, gently resting your hand over Frankie’s. “Is home your apartment?” You ask, slowly raising a hopeful eyebrow as he nods.

“Can be.”

A nod to that, Frankie starts his truck down the road again.

You need to tell him the truth, that this didn’t make you official. That you were still wary, trying to learn how to ride a bike again, sort of thing.

“What?” He asks, knowing you’re thinking too loud in your head.

You part your lips to speak but realize you shouldn’t feel bad about what you have to say. “I’m not ready for a full commitment. You’re not my boyfriend, Frankie, not yet. I just wanna take things slow. See if this is what we both really want.”

The right side of Frankie’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “We’ll figure it out. If no label is what you want right now, I’ll wait.”

You can feel your heart swell at his understanding. The last thing you wanted was for Frankie to start announcing to the world that you were dating. Not when you didn’t feel fully ready. You had bad relationship habits, ones you were ready to finally outgrow. But you didn’t want him to be subjected to your learning process. So you both could wait.

Frankie’s hand rotates palm side up, fingers apart. You slip your hand over his, your fingers interlocking as he starts the familiar route back to his apartment. This would be a lot of work, and you both had to be patient.

“Take things slow...” Frankie slowly murmurs. “Does this mean we can’t have sex?”

“No, fuck that.” You both laugh, squeezing his hand in your hold.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 10 months

Text

Crossfire - Pt 1 Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson) x F/AFAB! Reader.

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific Warnings: This is pure smut with story (but it’s mostly about the smut), Size kink, teasing, mutual pining, angst, P in V unprotected (birth control and trust re STI’s(get checked up and keep your partners informed frens)), drinking, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of war/war fighting, mentions of PTS/PTSD, trauma, military terminology, strip teasing, rough sex, size kink, (small) praise kink, feisty Reader. No mention of Y/N, Reader has nicknames, Teach/Bambi, was in the army with reacher, still doing covert stuff as a mercenary. This is a one shot, but might look at more instalments if people like it. Wordcount: 5,829

Summary: You run into Reacher after years apart. The flames that once burned inside you are ash, but the way he looks at you could start a forest fire.

Author’s Notes: I love Alan Ritchson and having watched Fast X and Reacher recently well… There’s an itch I want him to scratch.

Crossfire

The shitty inner-city bar was loud, too loud. Your ears ring as you watch the banker-bros and their dates laughing it up as they dance without rhythm to the modest-at-best live band. You worry at the label on your third beer bottle. The discarded shredded paper piling up as you try and calm your nerves.

“You doing alright there Teach?” Frankie, Frances Neagley, asks as she slides into the high stool opposite you. Her hair is pulled back in a tie, her olive drab denim tucked close against her as she twitches as people move too close to her, yet not close enough to touch her.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You sigh, shaking your head at the nickname that had stuck since West Point between you, Neagley, and Reacher.

“Do you prefer Bambi? We can call you that if you want?” Reacher’s deep rumble sets off a warmth in your spine you’ve tried to push from you mind for years. You swivel on your stool to take in the bull of a man that is raking his analytical blue-green eyes all over you. You mirror his analysis, taking in the new scars, harder lines on his face.

He’s aged faster than his years.

You think to yourself as you flip him the bird.

“That was one time, Teach at least has provenance.” You scoff, hating both nicknames but at least Teach was rooted in renown.

“How you holding up?” He asks you. With the way he’s looking at you, he’s clearly aware of the mercenary missions you’ve been on, even though he had been out of the force for some time. You’re unsurprised but it still bothers you how honed in on your life he always is.

“Nothing to report Sir,” You hiss, emphasising the last word to dig at him, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” Reacher has his hooks into you, always able to press your buttons.

“Hey,” Frankie interjects, shooting Reacher a venomous glare before turning back to you, “You can leave if you want, but don’t let him be the reason, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m standing right here.” Reacher says matter-of-factly as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” You scoff, rolling your eyes but you look back at Frankie and relent, “Alright, Reacher, stay out of my way, I want to have a good time tonight.” You glower at him and the softest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth has you cursing your own stubbornness. You should never had agreed to meet, and even then the moment he turned up you should have bugged out and high-tailed it home.

“Yes Ma’am.” He says softly before stepping away and blending into the swirling mass of the crowd. You try not to allow yourself to be impressed at the ease at which he could do that, considering his bulk and height.

“You two ever actually fuck?” Frankie asks you and you almost choke on the dregs of your beer.

“No, never, fucking hell Neagley, you trying to kill me?” You splutter, well aware that you’re far too flustered. Reacher notices it too and you see the vein on his neck pop as he stifles a triumphant smile.

“You should have, would’ve made things easier.” She shrugs as she takes another swig of her beer.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You needle back, knowing well that your relationship was tight knit enough to make that joke.

“Fair, but you’re a slutty little bisexual, either fuck him and get it over and done with or get over yourself.” Frankie says with a twitch of her lips. She has you there. The only thing that ever stopped you from fucking Reacher was your own ego.

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you gesture between your empty drinks before asking the obvious, “You want another?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Frankie says with a dazzling smile.

“Always, be back in a flash.” You say with a smirk. You love Frankie, you’d even, sort-of kind-of, dated for a while when you left the service, but Frankie being such a haptephobiac scuppered things for you both. You loved each other dearly but you’re a tactile, sexual person, and having to supress your own instincts wasn’t healthy for either of you. But it didn’t stop you loving one another, and that was something neither of you denied, you just expressed it differently, and that was ok.

You make your way to the bar, waiting patiently as the other, dressed up women got served before you. You’d grown used to it, you never dressed up, not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anyone. It had it’s perks, but in a bar, it meant you were served when you were served. You drum your fingers on the edge of the bar after a while, slowly getting tired of waiting.

“Hey,” Reacher’s low rumble makes you shiver as his large form cages you in. His navy shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as you see the firm, thick cords of his forearms hem you in as his large hands rest on the bar, “How’s Civvy life treating you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear as you shudder beneath him.

“Shit, I can’t be as lucky as you and land myself in the middle of murder investigations and big ol’ conspiracies like you J.” You say, using the nickname you know he hates.

“It cost me a brother, so I don’t know if you can call that luck.” He growls against your skin as he inches forward slowly. You feel the brush of his fucking marbled pecs against your shoulders as he tries to draw you in. This was a dance you had both done many times, riling the other up, pushing the limits to breaking point. But there was always an angle, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you wanted, or needed.

It’s the toxic part of your relationship with Reacher you never allow yourself to admit to, but it’s also the only thrill you get anymore. Years of the brass putting warfighting over warfighters meant you were numb to just about any stimulus. Except Reacher.

“Fair,” You nod, trying to keep your mind clear as your whole body screams to push back against Reacher, goad him on so he can finally give you what you’ve craved for over a decade, “But we both know you’re not here for sentimentality and feelings.” You breathe, trying so damned hard not to grind back against him.

He wants something, whatever this is will cost you.

“Correct.” He grumbles before a hand falls from the bar, resting against your hip instead, “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.” He pants against the clammy skin of your neck as you try to wrestle control from the primal part of your brain that would let him rail you right now, against the bar in front of everyone.

“Why now?” You ask, the logical part of your brain interrupting at just the wrong time, you want to take it back, let Jack play his game, maybe let him win for once, then let him fuck you into oblivion but that simple question shatters the illusion.

“Never mind, have a good night, see you ‘round Teach.” Reacher’s tone is clipped as he detaches from you with surgical precision. His body melds back into the crowd instantly as he flees from you retreating back to reality once more.

The bartender finally reaches you and you order your drinks, skulking back to find Frankie gone too. You check your phone and see that she’s bailed. You sit for a while, not touching the drinks for some time, trying to reconcile the night in your mind.

You down your beer and leave Frankie’s drink on the table before ordering an uber. You wait outside and almost scoff at the fact it took you less than a minute to realise Reacher was tailing you. He’s good, but so are you. You spend your nights checking for every sniper position, any potential ambush site. PTS, having the audacity to exist as a woman in the army, and pre-existing anxiety meant you were always hypervigilant.

You head back to your apartment, abandoning the Uber plan as you nip down dark alleyways. Every time he’s there. Sometimes a step ahead, often two or three behind as you watch him grunt in frustration from a rooftop as he reaches a dead end you guided him into.

You flop down on your shitty little sofa as the water still beads at your skin from the shower. You know he’s here, already inside your apartment. The tape you leave over the seams of your sash windows peeled back and replaced almost perfectly, but the room felt off, so when you prodded the adhesive tape it had flaked back without resistance. You had checked the bathroom first, wanting to shower uninterrupted, but you left the door ajar, just enough that if he wanted to, Reacher could see your naked form as you washed vigorously in your wet room.

You look around the studio apartment, the bare wood floors and deep red brick walls helped keep your anxiety in check, dirt shows less, stains easier to cover up. There is so little in the sparse room you’re starting to wonder if you were being paranoid. Then you hear the shift from the mezzanine bedroom. You gaze moves to look up through the balcony, eyes shifting along the dimly lit platform.

“You want a beer Jack?” You ask at the space under the bed you couldn’t see from here, position he was most likely in and you hear the soft grunt at the use of his first name. There’s a pause, where you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he decides it’s worth staying hidden for any longer.

“Fine.” He huffs as he rolls out from under your bed, exactly where you thought he’d be. Your bed is one of the few places anyone could hide in your apartment and you kept it that way for a reason. You pad over to the kitchen and grab a pair of import beers from the fridge, taking your time, hoping your loose linen shorts and thin tank top would entice Reacher to crowd you from behind again. But you’re left hanging as you hear the creak of your dilapidated groan under Reacher’s weight.

“So, what do you want?” You ask, nudging thew fridge door shut with your hip before you saunter over to sit on the coffee table, Reacher, even if he wasn’t currently sprawled across the whole length, would have taken up too much space for you to be comfortable.

“You.” Reacher says without pause, his sea glass blue eyes raking over the ample amounts of bare skin you have on show. You pop open the bottles with the end of the lighter on the coffee table next to your ashtray full of burnt-out joints, as you lazily take in the way Reacher’s tight jeans hug his strong thighs. The way his biceps strain against the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt has heat flooding straight to your core.

“Denied, anything else I can do for you?” You ask as you hand him the beer, his large fingers brush against yours and you have to battle with your self-control to pull away. Your skin is on fire, your heart in your throat as you feel the pressure of over ten years of pent up desire blotting out the rational part of your mind.

“Can I crash here?” He asks before taking a long swig of beer, you watch shamelessly at the way his throat muscles contract and flex as he swallows.

“Nope.” You breathe, your walls already crumbling as you actually consider saying yes.

“What’s up your ass Teach?” Reacher groans, his eyes hard as he sets the beer down on the table before shifting up into a sitting position, his knees brush yours and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The friction of his jeans against your bare skin, the intensity if his look, his hard stare, all of it riles you up and you have to force yourself to think straight.

“Just getting tired of whatever this is.” You gesture between your chest and his, the truth of your words biting as you steel yourself. You don’t want to fuck this up, you’re in the right place for the first time ever to actually let him in, but you can’t shake the decades of cold hard walls you had festooned around you.

“Understood, see you around,” And he says your name, soft, tender, vulnerable against his stoic, harder than titanium, façade he puts up for everyone. Everyone but you.

Reacher makes it two long strides, which was more like four of your own, before you grab him from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug as you anchor yourself to him. You notice the twitch of involuntary movement as your unexpected contact triggers his fight reflex. But he stills immediately, hands balled at his sides. You press your face into the span between his shoulder blades, inhaling the familiar cotton-fresh, pressed linen and neutral soap smell that you always associated with Reacher. No perfumed frills, as always he was utilitarian, clean, safe.

“Stay.” You whisper into his shirt trying not to sound as needy as you felt, but it’s painfully clear how much you needed this, you can’t hide it from yourself, and you certainly could never hide your feelings from Reacher, no matter how hard you both tried to ignore them.

God he’s warm.

“‘Sure? Seemed pretty clear you wanted me gone.” Reacher says as he places his strong hands on your forearms, as if to move them, but the moment his fingers brush your skin you feel the flash of desire in your chest, striking down your spine like lightning. The hitch in Reacher’s breath tells you he feels it too.

“Look at me.” You order, and without hesitation he turns in your arms, his hands sliding up to touch the bare skin of your biceps. The friction is maddening as you try to suppress the urge to jump him, to wrap your legs around his torso and fuse your lips to his.

“What?” Reacher says with a grunt, his jaw is tight with tension, eyes burning with desire in the low light of your apartment. His thumbs brush the skin of your biceps as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Kiss me.” You breathe, all thought, every ounce of bravado and cold, self-imposed emotional exile thrown to the wind. He hesitates for a split second before he claims your mouth with his own. It’s slow, cautious at first, barely a brush of skin on skin but that’s all it takes. It’s like kerosene poured on a bonfire, explosive, pressured, and unbearably hot. Nothing can stop this blaze now, and you were past being worried about getting burned.

Jack cups his right hand around the back of your neck, cradling it perfectly in his large hand as the other falls to your hip, pulling you against him, fisting the flimsy linen shorts in his hand as he groans down into you. His tongue presses against the seam of your mouth and you open willingly, moaning as his thick, hot tongue dominates you.

“Bed.” You mumble against his lips, pulling away to look up into his lust blown eyes, then you see a flash of mischief in his eyes. Before you can challenge him you’re being thrown over his shoulder. You yelp, embarrassment flooding you as you hear it, cursing yourself for getting caught off guard. Reacher chuckles, charging up the stairs two at a time before practically throwing you on the bed. You bounce lightly against the paisley blue sheets and glare at him, trying to muster every ounce of venom built up over the years for this man. But all you can manage is a pout, which only makes Reacher smirk triumphantly down at you from the foot of the bed.

“Clothes. Off.” Reacher growls the order and a flash of defiance makes you bold. You shift onto your knees and cross your arms, staring up at him with an eyebrow cocked in challenge.

“Make me.” You respond with a scoff, you might have obliged if he had asked nicely, maybe.

“Brat.” Reacher growls before slipping off his watch, kicking off his boots, and taking off his belt. You flush a little as you realise he’s removing anything damaging, sharp, or otherwise uncomfortable. They fall into a pile to his right before he looks you up and down, analytical as always as he prepares to strike.

You expect him to lunge at you, go in for the kill shot and use his brute strength to make you submit but that’s never been the game between you two. It’s always been about the chase, the delayed gratification, the thrill of drawing it out. The bed shifts dramatically as he lowers himself onto his knees.

Fuck, he’s big.

You think to yourself as he kneels, thighs spread as he towers over you. You shuffle back, feet brushing against the pillows as he slowly inches closer. His large hands fall to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open one by one. Each painfully slow motion reveals more and more of his muscular form. Sure, you’d seen Reacher naked before, hell you think you’ve seen him in every state of undress, including when you had to fish out a stray bullet and patch him up in Moldova. But this was different. This was for you.

“Trade?” Reacher says as he reaches the bottom button, his navy shirt hanging off his shoulders, exposing the scarred, rippling torso you knew so well. You could map every scar on his body, or so you thought, new, fresh, still-pink lines and indentations on his skin made you shudder.

“Trade for what Jack?” You say, trying to get under his skin as much as he had already gotten under yours.

“My shirt for yours?” He asks, eyebrow raised in challenge. You know if you refuse you’ve lost, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting you naked too quickly.

“Your shirt for one article of clothing of my choosing?” You barter and he cocks his head quizzically but nods slowly. You smirk and slip down the straps of your sports bra before unclasping it and throwing it away. It was the same colour as your tank top so it hadn’t been obvious it was there until your breasts spill out against the tight fabric of your tank top. Reacher’s eyes go glassy as you see his position shift on the bed, even in the low tungsten lighting you could see the bulge in his dark jeans.

“Impressive.” He breathes, you aren’t sure if he meant your trade, or your breasts, but it didn’t matter. The praise had you open mouthed and trying not to squirm as he inches closer, shouldering off the shirt. He goes to throw it on the floor but you snatch it from his hand, quickly pulling it over your shoulders. It swamps you and you bury your nose into the collar to inhale the crisp, clean smell of Reacher before looking back up through your eyelashes at him. His hand trembles as he swipes it back through the short hair on top of his head.

“What next?” You purr, taking in the broad expanse of his shoulders, his thick neck, and the soft yet defined muscles of his chest and abs. Reacher wordlessly pulls down his zipper, slowly shifting his jeans down over his thighs, letting them pool at his knees as he watches you like a hawk. You exhale aggressively through your nose as you see the dark patch of pre-come on his grey boxers, his cock straining against the tight fabric. You knew he had a big dick, but seeing it erect, erect for you has you pushing your thighs together as your cunt aches to be touched.

He stays like that for a few more agonising seconds and you’re almost at breaking point, about to relent and strip bare for him to take you right there when he finally hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and manages to take them off in a graceful motion, without moving from his knees.

You don’t wait for the next instruction, you had a plan, you mimic his actions in removing your shorts, pooling them at your knees to reveal the white cotton panties that hugged your mound. They were slick with your own arousal, making them cling to you in a way that made you ache further.

“Fuck.” Reacher hisses as he wipes one large hand over his face, sweat beading on his brow as his eyes roam your body, of course he notices the way your panties cling to you, the way your mouth is parted and eyes blown out with desire. He notices the peaks of your nipples painfully hard and pebbled under the thin fabric of the tank top.

“Looks like you’ve only got one piece left to trade Reacher, going to have to pick what I take off next.” You breathe as you bite on your lip, your eyes piercing his as you notice his Adam’s apple bob violently as he swallows hard.

“Me first.” He rasps, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers, revealing a smattering of light brown curls as he lowers his underwear slowly, letting his cock spring free with a bounce. You exhale through your nose to try and alleviate the desire building at the base of your spine but you can’t help the whine that accompanies it. He’s larger than you remember and, but then again you’d never seen him hard, and the pearlescent bead of pre-come leaking from his thick, ruddy tip had your hands balling into fists at your side. You notice the slight upwards curve of it and try not to think about how it was going to feel tight inside you.

He watches you with a smug grin, clearly feeling like he had already won but you look away from his beautiful cock and back up into his hungry eyes.

“What next?” You ask, voice pathetic and breathy but you weren’t ready to buckle yet. Reacher swiftly takes off his boxers before shuffling closer, looking between your cotton panties and your peaked nipples as they strain against the fabric.

“Top.” He murmurs, he’s so close now you can smell the perspiration over the usual freshness of Reacher and it does nothing but increase the ache between your thighs. You had hoped he’d say that, you don’t waste your time now, shrugging off his shirt before, peeling the material over your head with a huff as you lose your vision for a split second. The bed shifts beneath you and when you pull the tank top over your head you see him, towering over you, knees almost touching as he tilts his head down at you with a wide smile on his face.

He says nothing but slowly leans forward, his chest millimetres from your face as he reaches behind you to pull his shirt back over your shoulders. You shudder as his fingers brush the bare skin of your shoulders before looking up into his blue-green eyes as you see the strain in his neck muscles as he tries to hold back.

“Looks like you lost Reacher, I’ve still got my panties on.” You breathe as he rocks back down onto his knees, his fingertips trailing down from your shoulders before he reaches your pebbled nipples. He brushes his knuckles against the sensitive buds and you arch forward at the touch, the pleasure blinding as his rough skin scrapes blissfully against them.

“Who said getting naked was the goal?” He asks, his hands trailing down to your thighs, gripping the flesh of your ass in his hands as he leans down into you, his strong nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just short of your own.

“Then what?” You breathe, your right hand rests atop his on your ass, you trail your middle and index fingers down from the hollow of his neck, following the valley of his sternum and tight stomach before ghosting along the patch of curls just above his shaft.

“I think you know.” He breathes, pressing his forehead against your own as he wrestles internally for control.

“Hmmm, think I need you to spell it out for me Reacher.” You counter, removing your hand from his torso to slide it up your thigh instead, tracking slowly up to the seam of your panties where they curve over your mound.

“Fuck.” He grunts but clearly not giving in so easily. You smile and push up on your knees, forcing his hands up as you unfold your legs, flopping back against the pillows under him as you cant your hips up towards him. His hands shift up from your thighs as you move, pinning you down by your hips as he moans above you. You hook your ankles over his calves and look up into his dark eyes with your best bedroom eyes, batting your eyelids as you pull your right hand up to your mouth, pulling your panties to the side with your left. The air hits your soaked pussy and you shudder at the sensation. Reacher’s eyes don’t leave yours, not daring to look down.

“Teach.” Reacher growls in warning but that only spurs you on more. You push your two fingers into your mouth slowly, all the way to the knuckle, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck hungrily on your own digits. He watches you, entranced as you pull them back out, saliva glistening between the digits as you lower them to your clit. Reacher says nothing as he follows them down, he’s practically vibrating with tension now.

You slide your fingers through your drenched folds, whimpering at the sensation as you gather your arousal over your fingers, you bring them back up to your lips but before they get there Reacher snatches your wrist in his hand. Without pause he pulls them into his mouth and groans around your fingers as he laves his tongue between them, savouring your slick like a man starved. Your fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he breathes your name as he cups your cheek with one hand, the other tight on your hip, you were sure it was going to bruise but you didn’t care. He repeats your name again through ragged breaths.

“I give in, can I please fuck you?” He asks and triumph takes a backseat in your mind as you feel the heat rush through your veins.

“Yes.” You breathe against his lips and he presses his tongue into your pliable mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you moan as the hand on your hip pulls you flush against him as he devours you. His length grinds against your slit, rubbing blissfully at your clit as you buck up into him. You want his cock so bad, you wriggle and whimper against him as he continues to lick into your mouth with fervour.

“Need another taste.” He mumbles as he pulls back, dropping onto his elbows as he wastes no time pressing his thick tongue deep into your desperate little hole. You cry out and buck up into it as he laps up your arousal. He shifts up to your clit, swiftly replacing his tongue with two of his large fingers. You cry out as the stretch burns but it’s soon assuaged by the way he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue in rapid, punishing circles as he fucks you with his strong fingers, his knuckles rutting against your core as you feel the burning heat of your orgasm building. He laps greedily against your clit as he picks up the pace thrusting into your cunt with his fingers.

It’s blinding, like a supernova spreading from the base of your spine, blowing through your cunt and splintering at your toes as you convulse around his digits. You quake as he continues to piston in and out of you as you ride through your orgasm. He watches your face twist and contort, occasionally flicking his tongue against your clit to elicit another shudder from you.

“Jack.” You plead, cupping his jaw as you gently push him away.

“Sorry, ‘just looked too good, twitchin’ f’me.” He babbles, your slick coating his hard jaw as he looks down at you with reverence. You pant up at him but you’re still not truly sated, you want more, so much more. You reach down to his cock and grip him tightly at the base, Reacher’s eyes go wide and he smiles down wickedly at you.

“You sure?” He asks, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing his tongue against the skin there.

“Please.” You beg, you need to feel him, need him to split you open. Reacher groans softly and nestles down between your legs, one hand on his cock, the other holding you steady by your hip. He swipes his head through your folds before pausing in realisation.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, voice strained as he tries to be good, to do the right thing.

“Reacher I’ve not had sex in months, I’ve had clean bills of health since, and I’m on the pill, unless you’re packing an STI,” You look up at him this time with a face of judgement, “Which I will be pissed we’ve gotten this far and you haven’t said anything,” You add and he grins down at you incredulously, “I’m down if you are.” You say, looking between where his thick head is already stretching your entrance and his handsome face.

“Hundred percent sure?” He asks once more, twitching as he tries to restrain himself.

“Reacher, just fuck me already.” You growl. Reacher obeys and presses his tip inside, the stretch so much more intense than his fingers but you’re already so wet it’s no more than a pleasant burn.

“Fuck, so tight.” He breathes, easing further in as you buck up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed to pull against his lower back. He groans as he finally lets go, thrusting deep into you as you cry out in bliss. He fills you so tightly it’s overwhelming, you squirm under him as he brings a hand down to swipe his thumb against your clit.

“Fuckin’ Beautiful.” He growls as he starts a steady pace, his balls slapping gently against your ass each time as he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks down into you, spurring him on his thick cock rakes against your fluttering walls as every thrust threatens to unravel you.

“Reacher, fuck.” You groan as his tip hits your g-spot, making you writhe and clench, your right hand falls from his shoulder as you drop it down to swat his hand out of the way. You circle your clit with two fingers, matching his pace with ease fro this angle. He growls at the sight of you touching yourself as he fucks into you harder now, both hands on your hips as his rhythm falters.

“Can I-?” Reacher begins to ask but you cut him off, scraping angry red marks down his chest.

“Come inside me.” You command and that, combined with the sensation of your nails biting into his skin has Reacher stuttering his hips against you as he paints your walls with his spend. You come seconds later, pulsating around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, not slowing until you’re fully spent.

He rolls off you, almost falling off the modest double bed, only for you to catch his arm as you move over to give him some room. His cum is leaking out of you but you don’t care, sheets can be washed, or burned, but this moment with Reacher is precious.

“You ok there Teach?” He asks breathlessly as he turns to face you, pulling you against his chest, looping his strong thigh over yours caging you in against him.

“Seriously? Did you not hear me? Ok would be an insult to you.” You say with a laugh, prodding his sternum lightly with your finger.

“Fair point.” He says as he runs his fingers up ad down your body, tracing every curve, every scar, noting the places where you shudder. You place soft kisses to his chest, dragging your nails of your free hand up and down his back. It’s the most tender moment you’ve ever had, with anyone and the fact it was Reacher who was giving it to you was bizarre but you don’t care. After a while you feel yourself drifting off, but you know you need to wash up, even if you had only just showered.

“Reacher, gotta pee, c’mon.” You grumble against his skin and he sighs.

“I know.” He says softly as he places a kiss to the top of your head, but neither of you move, both terrified that if you let go it will shatter the illusion, the perfect moment neither of you wanted to lose.

“Reacher?” You whisper, anxiety bubbling in your throat as you prepare to ask the question that almost ruined it earlier.

“Hmm?” He responds sleepily, it he props himself up on his elbow and blinks the sleep away as he hears the concern in your voice.

“Why now?” You ask softly, trying to maintain eye contact, not wanting to shy away from this.

“Because,” He says softly, cupping your left cheek as he looks at you in earnest, “I’ve lost a lot of people I love, and I’m tired of pushing the people I love away, because I’d rather live and lose than never live at all.” He says and you can’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Did you just paraphrase Shakespeare at me?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s Tennyson, actually.” He grunts but the smile doesn’t leave his lips. You roll your eyes, he always was more into poetry than you.

“Do you want to crash here?” You ask softly leaning up to meet his lips, the kiss is soft, passionate, yet not the same as the hunger from before.

“Thought you’d never ask, c’mon let’s get cleaned up, I’m exhausted.” He mutters against your lips before hoisting you up into his arms, swinging his legs over the bed before carrying you to the bathroom. You grumble something about manhandling being degrading but he just laughs, because he knows deep down you like it. And you do too.

“Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile, and you use it only for me.” - Semisonic (Was listening to this while about mid-way through this and I just thought it was appropriate. Let me know what you think! I really liked writing this and would love some more Reacher stuff as it's pretty sparse as far as I can see? As always, likes and reblogs and comments are SO appreciated.

#Reacher #jack reacher x you #jack reacher smut #jack reacher #jack reacher x f!reader #alan ritchson #fanfic #fanfiction #jack reacher fanfiction #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher x female reader #Frances Neagley is sneaky #vi writes #viwrites #viwritessmut #smut

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jo-harrington · 9 months

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On-the-Job Training (A Store Manager Verse Story - Steve Harrington/Reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve has a crush on the Dippin' Dots cashier.

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Late Summer of 1985, Steve and Robin work at Scoops, Reader works at Dippin' Dots, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Enemies to Lovers(sort of?), Tie in with the Store Manager Verse

Note: Ok what started off as a silly little conversation about what flavor chapstick each ST character would use turned into this and I typically don't write Steve...but I had to give him some love.

Tagging my loves who were integral to that convo to thank them for inspiration especially Drac who started it all. This is for you bb. @dr-aculaaa @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @somnambulic-thing @fracturedarkness @br0ck-eddie

Technically slightly anachronistic because Dippin' Dots didn't open until 1988 but I'm a stickler for accuracy in the regular series. This is just a fun little do-dad.

You can find my masterlist here for more fics featuring pretty much exclusively Eddie Munson content but also a little Steve.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Largely unedited; I didn't even re-read it. It's might suck. Enjoy!

---

"Ahoy! One U.S.S. Butterscotch!"

Steve never thought that this would be his future after graduation.

This summer he should have been living it up before he went away to college and made something of himself. Lifeguarding at the pool, going to all the parties, hanging out with his friends.

Instead, his life went to shit, Nancy Wheeler had broken up with him, he had gotten rejection letter after rejection letter from the schools he had applied to...and instead of working at the pool like he had every summer since he turned 16, he had a crappy job slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy of all places at the new StarCourt Mall.

"Thanks so much," the sweet lady who had placed the order smiled at him and handed the sundae to her son. "Look at that Frankie, your favorite." The little boy shot Steve a grin complete with his two front teeth missing and Steve melted a little bit.

Alright, it wasn't so bad. He got to make people smile, he got some spending money--which was nice since his dad had pretty much cut him off, although his mom was sneaking him some cash on the side.

"Look alive dingus," Robin called from the window separating the front of the ice cream parlor from the backroom. "Your schmoopsie poo is here."

"Shut up Rob!" Steve groaned through gritted teeth.

One of the perks of working at the mall was that he got to interact with people of all shapes and sizes and yeah...Steve had tried to use it as a means to get over Nancy. He'd had little hours-long crushes on fellow mall employees, customers, Robin--although working with her made that difficult--hell there was even a manager that had caught his eye towards the beginning of summer except he'd seen Eddie "The Freak" Munson of all people hanging around her.

Although after a few months of seeing Eddie around StarCourt not being a wastoid menace, Steve had to admit...well he wasn't that bad either.

The one who'd caught his eye the most though was you, and yeah...he'd developed an actual big little long-lasting crush.

You, who came around for a root-beer float most afternoons.

You, whose smile made his heart skip a little.

You in your pink polo, teal apron, and white visor with the words Dippin' Dots emblazoned on the front.

The enemy.

And you never let him forget it either.

Steve had been heart eyes over you the first time you had entered into Scoops territory to order your float. Undercover in casual summer clothes a week after the mall had opened. There was just something about you, your smile, your laugh.

Robin teased that he said that about everyone; Steve ignored her.

Then you opened your mouth and said the float was good but the service could have been better. That Steve should stop by Dippin' Dots sometime and see how it was really done.

Shots fired.

It really hurt at first. This was his first real job outside of the community pool, one he had been excited to get. He was really nice, tried his best; why didn't you think so?

"It's called flirting," Robin insisted. "God, you really suck, you know that? How can you ask people out willy nilly and then miss someone flirting with you right in front of your face? Flirt back next time."

So he did.

Every so often he'd mosey across the mall to your kiosk, order a small vanilla cup, and throw a little insult of his own your way. Usually something about how tiny balls of ice cream could never beat an actual scoop. Or about how you didn't count his change the right way, or that your visor was on crooked.

You wouldn't hesitate to get your own comment in. Especially about his choice in flavor.

"You work at an ice cream parlor and you order vanilla?" you questioned. "A hundred flavors to choose from at scoops; do you only get vanilla there too? Vanilla...is good but when you have variety? Order something exciting one day, and then we can talk business, Stevie."

Oof, it steamed him.

But not enough to stop playing the game.

And it left you both grinning so who was he to end the fun.

So when you showed up at Scoops today after not being around for a few days and your smile didn't reach your eyes like it usually did...Steve was suddenly overcome with...well he didn't really know.

"Ahoy, uh, sailor," he greeted and tried to put on his biggest award-winning, tip-earning smile.

"Ahoy," you replied weakly.

"Root beer float?" he asked, already heading over to the case to start scooping ice cream into a cup.

"Uh," you hesitated. "No, just...just a small vanilla cup today."

Steve froze and looked at you. Your shoulders were slumped, you had your visor in your hand, and you were pointedly avoiding eye contact with him.

What was...what was wrong with you?

Where was your fight? Where was your fire? Why, all of a sudden, was your game over?

"Hey, uhm," he coughed awkwardly. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, Steve," you nodded absently.

"You always get root beer."

"I just want vanilla today."

"The special is salted caramel? I can give you a sample if you're--"

"No, I just want vanilla," you cut him off and rolled your eyes. "You always get vanilla. Why is it a problem if I suddenly do? Vanilla is good too. Maybe vanilla is just...what we both want ok? Nothing else."

He was shocked. That wasn't playful annoyance in your voice; you were just...annoyed.

"Sure," he agreed. "Sure. One small vanilla coming right up."

He got your ice cream and rang you out, and as you were about to leave, he called after you.

"See you in a little while?" he asked.

"If you want." You waved goodbye and headed out of the ice cream parlor.

Steve turned and looked at Robin who simply rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"You're hopeless," she sighed and slammed the shutters on the window closed.

---

Steve roamed around the mall on his break.

Typically, he'd make his way to Dippin' Dots but...that just seemed like a waste of time today.

He'd fixated on your visit for the rest of his shift until his break, analyzing everything he said, everything he did. Everything that could have made you mad at him.

Once he got Robin out of her hiding spot in the back room, he monologued all of his thoughts to her.

She watched him pace back and forth, called him a dingus a few times, a loser a few other times, and then finally sent him on his break with some last words.

"I know you're hearing everything they're saying Steve," she began. "But are you really listening? You just keep...ordering vanilla."

"Uh. Yeah. That's the game."

"It's not a game you...ughhhhh! GO!" She pointed to the exit. "Before I throttle you."

Why couldn't she just tell him? What had he done?

In his rumination, he'd been chewing at his lips. A habit he had pretty much done his entire life when he got nervous.

Shit, and he'd left his chapstick in the car; it was hot, it probably melted by now.

That was one of the little ways you made his life a little better...through your teasing. You had told him, once, that his lips looked dry.

"Maybe invest in some chapstick or something."

He'd gone to Melvald's that same night that you told him and got a 3-pack of strawberry chapstick. All the while wondering if it meant you had been looking at his lips for a while or...

But it was...just another little jab right? Another little flirt? Another part of your game?

Still, he never knew when you might show up so the chapstick became a constant--something that soothed him even, gave him courage--and he always had a tube tucked into the pocket of his shorts, or on the register, or in the cupholder of his car. To swipe on if he knew he was about to see you...or hoped he was.

And now...he desperately needed it, needed his strawberry chapstick--needed you--and it was nowhere to be found.

Steve stopped in his tracks and looked at the stores around him.

WaldenBooks, Regis Salon, JH Camera Repair.

Claires.

Bingo.

He'd seen little kids with their play makeup and sparkly plastic jewelry post up in one of the booths at Scoops after they spent their allowance money at Claire's. He had to find strawberry chapstick there. He'd even take cherry. Something.

Anything.

Steve crossed into the pink-and-purple-and-pop-music-filled oasis to a melodic "Welcome In" from the employee helping a little girl by the ear piercing booth. And as out of place as he felt, he was immediately relieved to see a wall full of eyeshadow palettes and glitter hairspray.

He closed the distance and frantically searched the wall, but it was all novelty makeup. There was one package of Dr. Pepper lip smackers, but the package was half-ripped and the cap was missing; he was a little worried but he figured it was better than nothing.

He was about to snatch it off the hook when that voice sounded behind him.

"Did you need help finding anything?" He immediately turned on his heel to find the employee--the manager, Eddie Munson's girlfriend--standing there in a flourish of tulle and fluorescent colors. "Oh! That's a customer favorite...looks like it's damaged though, let me just..."

She reached out to take the package but Steve reacted instinctually. He quickly grabbed it and clutched it to his chest.

"I don't mind," he tried to reason. "I don't care if it's missing the cap."

"Listen, I can't sell it to you if it's damaged," the manager explained. "It's just not safe. Is there anything else I can help you find though?"

She reached for the package again but he held it back.

"I need this," Steve tried again.

"Oh...kay."

"Because I messed up and this...you know the cashier down at the Dippin' Dots kiosk? Well...I don't know...I pissed them off or something and I just need to...go down and talk to them and I can't."

"So the lip balm is a gift for them? To make amends?"

"No...it's for me because my lips are dry." Steve sighed. "I...ok I know it sounds crazy, but I swear. It's...they got me to start using chapstick because they said my lips were dry and it's this thing we do. We go back and forth and we tease each other.

"But they're mad at me now, and they didn't...I mean they ordered vanilla. They never order vanilla. They hate it when I order vanilla."

"Uh huh." The manager's eyes went a little soft. "I'm not...really following the logic...but I get it."

"You do?"

"You like each other. But you're just...going back and forth. And no one has really...admitted it," she observed. She suddenly burst into laughter and Steve cocked his head to one side in confusion. "Sorry, sorry...it's just...whatafuckincoincidence.

"So are you the one who's afraid of being rejected? Or...are they...or..."

Cue the record scratch in Steve's head.

Rejection.

All summer...all year actually...Steve had been faced with one rejection after another. First Nancy, then all of the college applications, his dad and now...all of the little fleeting mall crushes that he'd asked out that had said no.

Robin had even made a scoreboard that sat in the back whenever someone turned him down.

He thought all this time...he'd become immune to it. But with you...it was easier to think it was just a game than to possibly face the reality that if he asked you out...you'd say no and then the little game would be ruined. And his hopes would be dashed.

He didn't realize that all of his waffling could potentially be hurting you too.

"Why don't you," the manager continued when Steve hesitated to answer, "go down there and talk to them? Even if they're mad at you. Communication is very important. I'm sure if you explain everything, or even...just show that you're willing to bridge the gap, they'd be willing to listen. The worst they could say is no, but if they're already mad, you have nothing to lose. See if they'll give you a chance."

"So I...shouldn't order vanilla this time?" He looked up at her and asked, recalling your words.

Order something exciting, and then we can talk business.

The door had been open for him to ask you out this whole time.

And that's why you ordered vanilla earlier. Because Vanilla meant...meant that this...flirtation...this game...wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't made a move, so you didn't want to wait anymore.

God, he was so stupid.

"Uh, no...don't do that," the manager smiled kindly. She reached out for the broken lip balm and took it from him. "I'll just...damage this out."

"Wait...but my lips are still dry," Steve floundered. "I still need chapstick."

"Do you think there's gonna be some kissing happening?" the manager's eyes narrowed. "I said talk to them, not...plant one on them."

"I just need...something," he begged. "Strawberry...if you have it."

"I think we have strawberry flavored lip gloss by the register."

"I'll take it."

---

So there Steve was, in the concourse by JCPenney, patiently waiting in the line for Dippin' Dots with sticky, strawberry-flavored lips tinted a very nice shade of pink.

As soon as he had swiped the gloss on...as silly as he had felt...he had been reminded of you.

"Next!" your voice sounded every so often and the line got shorter and shorter, and Steve's courage got weaker and weaker. The Claire's manager had been right though...communication...the worst you could tell Steve was "no."

"Next!" You'd be just another tally on Robin's scoreboard. And she could call him a dingus again. She really enjoyed doing that. So some good would at least come from his failure.

"Next!" He'd also get...a cup of Dippin' Dots which...if he had to admit, he kinda enjoyed. He got all the Scoops ice cream he wanted for free but this was different. Ice Cream of the Future and all that. He sort of expected Henderson to come up with something like this, the little nerd; well, if he could never show his face here again, he'd ask the kids if they could figure out how to make some kind of futuristic ice cream for him.

"Ne--oh!" Steve finally got to the front of the line and saw your shocked face. He smiled and waved as he approached the register.

"Hey," he greeted. "I told you I'd see you around."

"You did," you said flatly and scrunched your nose. "So...the usual? Small vanilla cup?"

"Uh no..." Steve said hesitantly. You raised an eyebrow in question. "I uh...can I get a large..."

"Large vanilla?" You sniffed.

"Large Rainbow Ice," he recited after squinting at the menu board. "It's time for something new."

You stared at him silently and Steve couldn't help but doubt himself.

What if Rainbow Ice was the wrong answer? Should he have gone with Banana Split? Shit he should have just stuck with Strawberry. It was his favorite. Strawberry chapstick, strawberry gloss, strawberry ice cream. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Yeah," you finally answered with a beaming smile and Steve's heart soared. "Yeah it is time for something new, isn't it?"

Next Part: Incremental Planning

#stranger things fic #Steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington fic #store manager verse #Steve harrington fluff #scoops steve

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somanyratsinthewalls · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Special Part 4

Mo’s Kinktober Special

The Crew’s Whore (Part 4) (+18)

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your power fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.

Pairing: Usopp x afab!reader

WC: 3200 ehehehe

TW's: Alcohol consumption, cowgirl, face sitting, oral sex m receiving, blowjob, a little exhibitionism, virginity loss, virgin usopp :( , oral sex f receiving, pet names, begging, submissive usopp :(

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4: The Liar

——

Earlier in the Day…

Zoro, Sanji and Usopp sat side by side on the railing of the deck watching their fishing poles in the water. The stores of meat were getting a little on the low side, and the whole crew knew what a nightmare their captain would be if there was a shortage of food, so it was all hands on deck for fishing duty.

“So I had y/n in the bathroom the other day, it was insane.” Zoro starts after several long minutes of silence and no bites on the hooks.

“Yeah, I KNOW.” Usopp snaps back at the mention of what he walked in on a few days ago.

“Haha oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Zoro chuckled and leaned back on his arm. “Sorry I’m not sorry, you were bound to see it some time. I don’t know why you don’t just have her for yourself for once, you’d understand it then. Oh wait, you’re too chicken shit.”

“Chicken shit? Oh sorry I RESPECT women, and whatever configuration you had her in was NOT respectful.” Usopp shot back at the swordsman.

“Oh yeah? Then why was she cummin’ all over the floor? Seemed pretty respectful to me.” Zoro smirked.

“He has a point, moss head. You obviously have no idea how to truly, romantically, pleasure a woman.” Sanji didn’t even turn his head to insult Zoro.

“At least I’m not in there whimpering and begging! You think you’re quiet? It’s gross, shitcook, be a real man.”

Sanji stood up, abandoning his fishing pole, his right ankle beginning to flame.

“Oh you want to fucking go, asshole?”

Zoro stands up to unsheathe a single sword.

“Anytime, curly fuckface.”

“You guys really suck, man, I hope y’all know that.” Usopp sighed and grabbed his fishing pole to move it to the opposite side of the ship. He plants his pole against the railing as he lets Sanji and Zoro’s yelling fade into the background.

“HEY BROS? I SPECIFICALLY SAID NO DIABLÉ ON THE SHIP! CUT IT OUT!” Franky’s booming voice came from the top deck as he interrupted the idiots’ argument.

Usopp thought about what Zoro said… he wasn’t chicken shit…

— —-

That Same Day, Much Later

This evening aboard the Thousand Sunny, the weather was warm and quite breezy. As per usual there was a large spread for dinner that Sanji had expertly prepared, and the alcohol was certainly flowing. You sat in between Luffy and Usopp, your ear drums basically exploded from the decibel of their laughing and story telling.

“-And if I wasn’t there, that old lady AND her cat would have DIED!” Usopp was regaling the crew with some ridiculous story about a walnut tree that had been set on fire back in Syrup Village. Was it true? Absolutely not. Was he adorable? Of course.

Luffy was laughing his ass off, believing every word.

“Wow Usopp! You’re a real hero! I bet Mr. Snuggles owes you his life!” Luffy said between bouts of laughter.

You giggled before you leaned in and poked the tip of Usopp’s nose, teasingly.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckled at him.

“I.. uh…” Usopp stuttered out before quieting down, his cheeks flushed a dark red. Luffy, oblivious, picked the conversation up again, telling a story about a cat he accidentally tried to eat during his childhood with the bandits.

After everyone had their fill of food and drink, the crew each returned to their own respective tasks and business. You hung in the galley for awhile, drinking another glass of wine and drying dishes for Sanji. He was always such a good boy for you, why not help him out?

One finishing your task, you gave Sanji a peck on the cheek, to which he fussed and fawned over you briefly, and you grabbed another glass of wine before heading down the stairs towards your room. With airy steps and chardonnay in your hand, you treaded down the hall towards the bedrooms. Before you turned the corner you heard something. A beautiful melody was being played somewhere nearby and it caught your ear. You decided to follow the enchanting sound to the door of the lounge and you pushed it open.

Inside, Brook was playing a gorgeous tune on the piano alone. You smiled seeing him so happy and in his element. You sauntered over to the piano bench and sat down next to the large skeletal man. He notices you next to him and slows his playing to a softer volume.

“Oh beautiful y/n! How nice of you to join me! Any requests?”

“No, this is great. What you’re playing is lovely, please continue.” You sip your wine and close your eyes, enjoying the soft notes from the piano keys. Brook finishes his song and you clap your other hand to the wine glass gently to mimic applause.

“Bravo, Bone Daddy.” You smile. You continue, “You know… I am sorry that you can’t… you know…”

“Oh, don’t worry sweet y/n. It’s quite alright, it’s the thought that counts, right? Yohoohoho!”

“Hmm… I guess you’re right… Here.” You stand up from the piano bench and slide out. You hike your thumbs underneath your short, black pleated skirt. You grab the edge of your pink lace panties and pull them down to your ankles and step out of them. You grab your panties and fold them up nicely. You grab one of Brook’s skeletal hands and place the panties in them and close it up. “Keep em. My treat.” You wink and you turn to walk out of the lounge. As you leave you hear unintelligible thanks spill from Brook’s bony mouth, saying he would cherish them as long as he lived (too bad he was already dead).

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door to the lounge behind you. You realize your glass was once again empty, so you returned to the galley to fill it. You poured another full glass of wine before heading out to the deck again. It was quiet, but you notice Usopp sitting on the deck fiddling with his slingshot and some sort of supplies from his bag.

“Well hey there,” You holler at him from across the deck and begin to saunter towards him.

“Oh, hey y/n. What are you doing out here?” Usopp doesn’t look up from his project.

“Just hanging out. Though I’d enjoy this nice weather.” You walk towards the railing of the ship and lean forward on it.

“Yeah it is nice out, hey if you go back in for another drink could you grab me a-“ Usopp looks up towards you facing outwards towards the sea. You were leaned over the railing and the wind was blowing your skirt up over your ass. Having taken off your panties, your bare cunt and cheeks were on full display for him.

Usopp instinctively jumped up and moved his body behind yours to cover you. Although there was no one else on the deck, he thought to immediately shelter your most intimate bits from any prying eyes. You felt him behind you and shot up.

“Usopp…” You ask as you turn yourself around to face him, chests almost touching.

“Y/n! What the hell are you doing? You…” He whispers and looks around, “you don’t have any panties on!” He very quietly but very harshly breaths out at you.

You giggle.

“Oh, that? Yeah. Does it bother you, Usopp? You don’t like seeing my pussy on the deck like this?” You tease him as you step closer to him, bringing your breasts to press against his torso.

“No I mean I never said- I mean no! Wait yes I mean yes! Hold on, no, no I don’t dislike it I just-…” His brain was fried as if he just stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He could feel your nipples through your tight crop top.

“Ohhh… so you DO like it?” You purr at him.

“YES obviously, yes it’s great I mean-“ He stutters as you wrap your hands around his neck. You pull him closer to you and you gently press your lips against his to shut up him. He freezes. It took at least a full 30 seconds for him to start kissing you back. Usopp finally gathers the courage to place his hands on your waist as you kiss him deeply. You pull back, holding the side of his face with one hand, looking into his nervous eyes.

“Would you like to take me back to your room, Usopp?” You seductively ask. He blinks blankly at you. He wasn't chicken shit. He grabs your hand and pulls you quickly through the ship to his room.

Closing the door behind you, you wrap your arms around him again, consuming him in another heavy make out session. You could feel his hands on your body shaking.

“Nervous, sweetheart?” You pull back and coo at him.

“Ha, nervous? Nah, no never. I do this all the time! You know I used to have a girlfriend back in Syrup Village, she was basically a princess and she and I-“ You press your finger to his lips.

“We both know that’s bullshit.” You smirk at him. You trace your finger along his lips. “You’ve never touched a woman in your life. Never felt the hot, wet mouth of a woman on your cock. You’ve never tasted the sweet release of a pretty girl on your tongue. You’ve never felt the tight squeeze of a cunt while you’re deep inside of it.”

Usopp whimpers at your filthy words. You snake your left hand in between your bodies to palm him over his overalls.

“Shit- okay fine. You got me. I have no idea what I’m doing. I want to make you feel good but I.. I don’t know how…”

“Then let me show you…” You push his body back towards the bed making him flop onto it. You slunk in between his knees and removed his clothes. You slipped out of your shirt over your head and your skirts down your legs, not needing to remove your panties since you had already gifted them to your Bone Daddy earlier. His cock was so painfully hard already, it bobbed angrily in front of your face as you pulled down his coveralls.

“Are you gonna… what are you gonna do?” Usopp asks you anxiously. “well… nothing you don’t want, okay sweetheart? I was going to take you in my mouth… if that’s alright my sweet boy?” You settle yourself between his thighs and start to stroke his cock slowly.

“Yes… I-I want to be in your mouth please…” He stares intently down at you, hypnotized by your beauty and eagerness.

“Hmm…” You hum as you slowly lave your tongue over the hot mushroom tip of his cock.

“Holy shit y/n-!”

You felt your cunt grow wet at the desperate sounds of pleasure that came from his mouth. You wanted to ruin him so bad. A loud whine escaped Usopp’s mouth as you took his full length down your throat. You brought your right hand up to cup his tight, heavy balls in your palm.

Usopp’s thighs and abs tense as you continue to work him in your mouth and your hands. Nothing but moans and heavy breaths left his lips. He had never felt anything like this before, cursing himself for being too… well chicken shit, to ask for your services before now.

“Y/n wait stop I’m going to-“

You used your left hand to grab his hip and press his body further into you as you took his cock in your mouth so far that your nose met him pelvis. Usopp whined as he released his heavy load down your throat. After several more ropes shot into your mouth, you pulled off Usopp’s dick as he flopped down back on the bed.

“Woah… I kinda get what Sanji’s been talking about now…” Usopp uttered as he stared at the ceiling. You chuckled as you snaked your body up his chest to give him a peck on the nose.

“What can I say? I’m a professional.” You cupped his face in your hand and winked at him. His expression changed.

“Wait… What about you?” Usopp looked up at you with concerned eyes. “Oh sweetie don’t you worry about that!.” You stroked his cheek.

“No… I said I wanted to make you feel good… can you… can you help me? Show me?” He desperately grabbed at your hips, grinding you down onto his cock that was already starting to harden again.

“Hm… If you insist…” You smiled devilishly and sat up on your knees and moved to hover over Usopp’s face, leaving your sopping cunt mere inches above his drooling lips. His eyes bugged wide out of his head, the sight of your gorgeous bare pussy so close to his face was too much for him to handle.

“Do you want to taste it, Usopp?” You teased at him, being barely out of his reach, not sitting down fully just yet.

“Mmm Yes! Yes just sit! Mmm please just sit down I’ll do whatever you want, just use me, please!” His speech was almost slurred due to him trying to reach his tongue out of his mouth to taste you already. You gave into his pleas and fully lowered your body onto his face. A breathy sigh of pleasure escaped your lips as his tongue prodded your weeping hole.

“Mmmprhh so-mrrph good!” Usopp whined out against your sex. He bucked his hips up shamelessly, already fully erect again. You leaned forward to grind your clit against the base of his nose while his tongue fucked your hole. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned loudly.

“Ohhh, sweetie that’s so good! You’re so perfect for letting me use your pretty face like this. Such a good boy for eating me so well!” You praised him as you continued to ride his face, bringing yourself to orgasm.

“I’m going to cum on your face now, Usopp. You’re going to lay there and take it, right sweetheart?”

“Mhmm! Mhmm” He nodded his head as you finally pushed over the edge. Your slick juices sprayed his face and neck as you cried out. Usopp moaned underneath you as his tongue darted out of your hole to lap up any remaining release from your folds.

You collected yourself and slid your body back down his chest, your pussy dragged a wet trail down his torso as you moved. You hovered over his weeping cock, leaking a puddle of precum onto his toned abdomen.

“Would you like to fuck me now, Usopp?” You looked him square in the eye. He was so drunk on your body and pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, Please, I’d like to fuck you now! Please let me inside of you!” Once again he was begging beneath you. You could definitely get used to his. “Ok sweetheart, you can fuck me now. You’ve done so good.” You coo at him as you line his cock up with your soaked entrance and slide down. He wasn’t as long as Sanji or Zoro, but it was thick and hit your spot just right as you took him to the base inside yourself.

“Fuck-!” Usopp cries out as his hands fly to your hips to ground himself, so lost in the pleasure of your tight cunt.

“Sweetie you fill me up so nice, doing such a good job-“ You moaned out dreamily as you began to grind yourself back and forth on Usopp’s cock.

“Fuck y/n… I can’t… I just gotta…”

All of a sudden Usopp plants his feet and slams his hips up into yours making you almost jolt off his dick in the process. He hit you so deep.

“Usopp!” You cry out in both surprise and pleasure. You shudder forward and lose your balance, hands landing on his firm chest to hold yourself up. Usopp continues to piston his length inside of you at an animalistic pace as you felt that familiar tightness in your belly begin to form again.

“Shit, Usopp I- I think I’m gonna- AH!” He was bouncing you so forcefully on his cock, the soft, shy Usopp you knew was long gone as soon as he sunk balls deep into your filthy cunt. Your body was being tossed in the air with every thrust, your full breasts bouncing lewdly in his face. “Gotta feel you cum again… Fucking do it… Cum on me again…” Usopp growled out at you as he took your right nipple in his teeth. You cried out in pain and pleasure as his grip tightened on your hips, holding you so hard you knew you’d be left with black and blue marks where his fingers were now. You screamed out his name as you let your orgasm wash over your body and you released all over his lower half.

“Y/n, fuck, where should I-?” Usopp gasps out.

“Inside… Need… inside…” You choke out between gasps, your body still recovering from your orgasm.

Usopp groaned loudly as he pulled your hips down so far into his that you felt his cock kiss your cervix harshly. You whined as he shuddered and came deep inside of your still spasming pussy.

His body went limp. You leaned forward while he was still seated within you to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. You tried to as gently as possible remove yourself from his overly sensitive cock. He still groaned as you pulled yourself off of him, feeling his cum drip out of you onto his hip bone in the process. You laid down next to him and wrapped him in your arms. You pulled his down comforter over both of your naked bodies. You scratched his scalp as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around your lower back.

“SooOOOooo… What’dya think?” You giggled as you asked him how his first time was, already knowing the answer.

“Y/n it was-“

“GLAD YOU FINALLY GET IT, LOSER!” You both heard Zoro’s drunk, booming voice from outside Usopp’s bedroom door.

“FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” Usopp shouted, briefly rising from his resting place in the crook of your neck.

You both laughed. You pecked him on the lips. “Goodnight, Usopp.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You both quickly fell asleep in each others arms.

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ohforficsake · 11 days

Text

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: The boys end up at a dive bar on Frankie's birthday. Snipers are good at pool. Frankie's not gonna be able to wait until they make it home. Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

Rating: Explicit 18+ / dirty talk, momentary dry humping, jerking off in a dive bar bathroom, mention of oral sex (f receiving), bit of a come fetish (it's these two, they're just like this) / language / drunk!Frankie is the sweetest, filthiest menace with a massive competency kink / Minors DNI

A/N: A little drabble that came up a few months ago but didn't quite fit with the main Margay storyline. Just something fun to tie you over after putting you all through it with Chapter 9.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk.

There’s no falling on the floor. No getting up in other patrons’ faces. Just cheeks ruddy and round from freely-given mirth.

He’s harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

Whooping with cheers whenever anyone sinks a pool ball into a pocket, whether they’re on his team or not.

_____

He had made the trip out to northern California for the occasion, wanting only to spend his day with his daughter.

But the boys catch wind of his plan and throw in for an Airbnb on the coast for the occasion.

And in the process of planning, Santi and Benny cook up a four-beer deep idea over an empty pizza box to arrange an extra gift.

Aud, what are your thoughts on Fort Bragg? Santi fires off on a text thread between the three of them.

I’m glad that they’re changing that name, guy was a cunt.

Sorry no, California. Benny clarifies. But also, agreed.

Is that not named after the same guy?

Santi sends the house’s address at the same time Benny sends, it is yeah.

Catfish wants to spend his birthday out there with his kid and we couldn’t let him celebrate alone. Pope attempts to steer.

Wondering if you might want to tag along? Last week of June.

Send me a venmo request for my part of the booking.

_____

Something warm blooms in Audrey’s chest at the sight of Frankie with his friends, quietly strategizing over forest green pool table felt.

He throws his arm around Benny’s neck and thumps Santiago on the back when they win this round, uncaring that he and Will have lost the last three.

“Can you please play this one, this score is embarrassing,” Will leans over on his bar stool with arms crossed against his chest, voice raised just enough so Audrey can hear him over Garth Brooks being played at a decibel below ungodly volume.

“Already told you, if I play, it’s over in one turn,” she takes a swig of beer, “that’s no fun for anyone.”

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

She studies Will in the haze of neon-red tinged smoke. Audrey’s only known him for three hours, but she likes him already. Enough to grant him this favor.

“Fine.”

She slips off her bar stool and shimmies her jeans higher up on her hips before shrugging the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“You playin’, Moose?” Santiago calls with a grin.

“One round,” she holds up a finger, “save these boys some shame,” she finishes as Will hands her a cue. The minute she lifts it off the ground she murmurs “not that one,” and Will swaps her out.

“There’s no way she’s that good,” Benny quips to Pope as he racks up the balls.

“I—do not have as much confidence as you on that,” Santiago carefully lifts the triangle and slots it back under the table. “You should probably know better, Benjamin.”

“You boys are fucked,” Frankie loops his arms around both of their shoulders as Audrey chalks her cue.

She places the cue ball towards one rail behind the second set of diamonds and glances behind her, gauging the space before leaning down to eye level, bouncing and spinning the cue in her hand to get a feel for its balance before she takes her first shot.

Audrey sinks two balls on the break.

She quickly assesses the table when they come to a stop. “Stripes, do I need to call the pocket?”

“No need to be a show-off,” Pope quips.

“Fair enough,” she slips around the far side of the table and sinks the 9-ball in a corner. It lines the cue ball up perfectly and she drops 14 in a center pocket.

One lap around the table and a glance at the boys to be sure she has clearance before Audrey knocks the cue ball just off its center point, gliding it across felt where it transfers its spin to 15, sending it swirling down the rail into a corner pocket. She slips around to the opposite side of the table, banking the cue ball off the opposite rail and into 13, which slips neatly into the center pocket nearest her.

“What went in on the break?” Benny calls.

“11 and 2,” Will answers where he’s calmly perched on a barstool against the wall.

She could miss now and he’d still be impressed.

She won’t.

The cue ball is dead center on the table and 10 is sitting a foot short of a corner. Audrey circles the table, chalking her cue as she analyzes angles. The best shot is from the end nearest the three boys but she’ll have to reach for it.

She stands in front of them and murmurs “sorry, boys,” before she hikes one knee up on the side rail and leans down, chest nearly grazing the table.

Frankie covers Benny and Santi’s eyes from where his arms are still braced on their shoulders.

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

They hear 10 drop in before brushing Frankie’s hands away.

Audrey bounces the cue ball off the edge of 12, popping it into the nearest pocket.

“Oh, that’s done, she’s got it,” Benny murmurs when the white ball comes to a stop directly in line with the corner pocket nearest Will, the 8 ball sitting perfectly in the middle of the shot.

Audrey sinks it and Frankie whoops, clapping both men on the back before rushing around the table to grab Audrey in a bear hug that lifts her up off her feet.

“FUCK yeah, baby!!!” He screams, taking her face in his hands and mashing his mouth against hers.

“Okay, down boy,” she quips with a smile.

“Well played, Moose,” Will holds out his hand for a shake.

“Alright, the rest is on y’all,” she hands the cue off to Will. “I gotta hit the restroom and then I’ll pick up another round.” She makes her way around the table, Benny and Santi congratulate her with claps on the back before she’s off down the hall.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Catfish,” Will chalks his cue.

Frankie answers with the quirk of a brow and a smirk that drips with filth.

One of the patrons recognizes Benny from fight night and it causes a stir. Turns out Will knows him from high school and everyone’s fascinated with what a small world it really is, attention distracted enough to allow Frankie to slip away.

_____

Audrey wrenches the door to the bathroom open and collides with Frankie’s chest.

“Jesus, Francisco.”

He backs her up with his body, kicking the bathroom door closed and latching it as his mouth crashes against hers, twisting his cap around backwards.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” He smashes her against the wall with his broad form, craning low to kiss at what skin he can get to under her turtleneck before giving up and sucking on her earlobe.

“Yeah, well, I guess” she pants as Frankie drops to his knees and grabs at her hips, grinding the bulge in his jeans against her shin as he mouths at her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, “don’t play pool with a sniper.”

Frankie is fully hard as he ruts against her, pulling clumsily at the button and zipper of her jeans. He inhales against her mound and moans before quickly getting to his feet.

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

He’ll sniff crotches and hump legs too, apparently.

Audrey grabs his face between her hands in an effort to center him, dipping her tongue into his mouth before Frankie pulls back.

“Fuuuck baby,” he reaches down to squeeze his cock through his jeans, “I’m not gonna make it, baby, I can’t–”

“Frankie–”

“Shhh, gatita, please,” he clamps a hand over her mouth as his forehead thumps hard against hers, “fuck,” he huffs, “I’m gonna. Pull those pretty panties down for me, beautiful. Just a little bit.”

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes.

She slips her jeans and thong down her thighs, eyes locked on Frankie’s locked on black lace.

“Right there. That’s my pretty girl. Yeahh,” he shifts around to free himself from his jeans and she moans into his palm where he slides the hot, hard length of him against her center.

Frankie indulges for a moment, slipping his cock against the smooth wet of her lips.

“Shit,” he hisses before gripping himself in his fist, brown eyes searching green for permission.

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

It takes him less than a minute before thick ropes of semen spurt into the gusset of her panties as he groans against the back of his hand where it’s still clamped over her mouth.

“Gatita?” He lets go on a ragged gasp once his hips have stilled and he’s worked himself through.

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm.

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” he lets his hand drop but keeps his forehead pressed against hers.

Frankie’s fingers move down to hook in the waistband of her lace thong before he slips it, warm and sticky and reeking of his spend back up into place.

“Keep that for me?” He slips his tongue in her mouth, fastening the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper closed. “I’m gonna come back for it.”

He presses a final, wet kiss to her lips, warm palm resting briefly on her cheek before he slips out of the door.

He leaves her frayed with want. Panting through burning lips as her head thumps back against the wall.

Sometimes she wonders if Frankie Morales is the filthiest motherfucker alive.

Two hours later when he cleans her cunt with his tongue—cap twisted round backwards on his head, wet panties stuffed into the pocket of his jeans—she realizes he probably is.

He probably is.

And he's hers.

Tagging a few lovely folks who are/might be interested: @tinytinymenace @theshensei @jeewrites @oliveksmoked @for-a-longlongtime

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

@soft-persephone @julesonrecord @legendary-pink-dot

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the margay #ohforficsake

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kdogreads · 7 months

Text

Bad Girlfriend

Frank Castle x f!reader

TW: smutty smut (minors DNI pls), alcohol consumption, slightly jealous!Frank, pinch of degradation/praise, public sex🤭

A/n: This song popped up on my shuffle and all I could think about was Frankie being proud of his badass girl 🥵😍 Happy Beardthal Bash, fellow delulus 😏

The two of you often found yourselves here: getting hammered in your favorite little dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen. It was close enough to walk home, so this was basically your excuse to get shit-faced then go home and eat whatever alcohol-fueled concoctions you could come up with and each other.

Tonight started out just like every other night at the hole in the wall you’d come to love. Frankie sat on a barstool behind you while you swayed and danced to the music, stopping every so often to wrap your arms around his neck and plant a sloppy kiss on his lips.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight, baby?” Frank whispered into your ear while he held you close.

“Only about a hundred times, Frankie,” You giggled and pulled away to give him a flirtatious smirk.

“My girl just looks so,” he paused and looked you up and down before sliding one hand down your back, reaching your curved bottom and giving it a nice squeeze, “good.”

You squealed his name at the feeling and swatted his hand away, trying to acted embarrassed and not totally turned on. He just smiled that heartbreaking smile and pecked you on the lips before you turned around to dance between his legs some more.

A few minutes passed before you felt a strong hand on your waist.

“Gonna hit the head. Wait here?” Frank pecked your cheek before sliding out from behind you.

You took his spot on the barstool, waiting for the bartender to come over so you could order another drink. It was as good a time as any to quickly check your phone, making sure there weren’t any fires needing put out by you or Frank. You scrolled aimlessly through your notifications, nothing popping out at you as “urgent,” so you slid it back into your purse and smiled at the barkeeper you’d come to be friendly with. He signaled you he’d be there next, so you let your body start swaying to the music again.

“Pretty girl like you really here all alone?” You hadn’t noticed that a tall, muscular beef cake-looking guy had sat down on the stool next to you until he spoke.

“Oh,” You scoffed quietly as you realized he was flirting with you, “Don’t need company to have a good time, right?”

He laughed a little too hard as the bartender slid your mixed drink in front of you.

“Put that on my tab, bro,” The man piped up as you took a sip. You tipped your glass his way in thanks. This was going to be so fun.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Frank take a seat at a barstool a few feet away from you. He had a smirk on his face as the barkeeper gave him a confused look. Frank must have muttered something about his little game as the bartender shook his head and laughed while handing him a new drink. His eyes were glued to you as you slowly slid back onto your feet, letting the music sway your hips as you listened to your admirer going on and on about his gym routine or something.

Your new friend, Justin or Jason or something like that (you chose not to remember), was still going on about his favorite protein powder when you felt a hand on your arm, “So, what do ya say we take this party to my place?”

You stopped dancing and shot a glance over to Frank. He was clearly not happy based on the way he gripped his glass so hard you thought it might shatter, but stayed in his seat as he rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck, trying desperately to keep his cool.

“I appreciate the offer, Jackson, but I have somewhere to be,” You spoke sweetly as you set your empty glass on the bar top and went to turn away.

“It’s Jordan,” He corrected and kept his hand on your arm, tightening his grip just enough for you to notice, “Come on, baby, I just wanna get to know you better.”

The pet name triggered something in you — something that had your adrenaline pumping and led you to react before you even realized.

In one swift motion, you gripped his bulky wrist and twisted his arm in towards you, threatening to pop his elbow out of place and dropping him onto his knees in an instant.

You didn’t see Frank come over to you, but when you glanced back up he was right beside you with his hand on the arm you currently had on the creep.

“Tsk,” Frank tutted as he reached up to cup your face, “Baby, you don’t want to hurt the little boy, now do you?”

You smiled and let go of the man’s arm as Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, claiming what was his.

It was the muttering of “crazy fucking bitch” that broke Frank’s lips away from yours and lead his fist to collide with the guy’s jaw. He tumbled back into the foot rail on the bar and pressed a hand to his already-swelling cheek.

“Thanks for the drink!” You exclaimed cheerfully as Frank wrapped his strong arm around you and headed for the door. He stopped only to hand a fifty-dollar bill to his barkeeper friend with a small “sorry” and cheeky grin on his face.

——

The two of you strolled into the brisk night air as if nothing had happened. You walked in relative silence until you reached the corner of the building when Frank pulled you into the dark alleyway beside it.

You gasped as Frank slammed his lips to yours, his broad hands already wandering all over your body.

“Frankie,” You whined between kisses, “What are you doing?”

“My girl is tough as nails,” He kissed his way down your jaw to your neck, “And so fucking sexy.”

You giggled as his stubbly face tickled your clavicle, trying to keep your knees from buckling, “So you like seeing me with other guys, then?”

Your teasing did exactly as you hoped. Frank stood up straight looked down at you, a pained look under his furrowed brows, as his hands worked feverishly on unbuckling his belt. You bit your lip to hold back an excited moan from escaping your lips.

“No, baby, I don’t,” He hummed as he hiked your dress up around your waist, wasting no time dragging his thick fingers over your aching core, “Now I gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?”

Before you could come up with a snarky response, Frank slid your panties out of the way and rubbed tight circles over your throbbing clit. You settled back against the wall in a desperate attempt to stay upright. He practically growled in your ear as he boxed you in against the wall, his strong arm reaching under your knee to give him more access to your dripping center.

“That what you wanted, huh?” He slid two thick fingers into your tight hole, your nails digging into his back and eyes rolling shut, “Wanted me to fuck you out here in front of everyone like the good little whore you are?”

You gasped as he fucked his fingers into you hard and fast, his jeans growing tighter by the minute. You clawed at his toned shoulders as you already teetered on the edge. The way Frank’s thick fingers stretched you so deliciously and his thumb worked tight circles over your clit had you keening under his touch.

“Fuck, Frankie,” You panted into his shoulder, biting down to keep from crying out, “please.”

He pulled his fingers out of you with a pop and a gasp escaping your lips. Before you could even whine at the loss he had his jeans and boxers pulled down just enough to free his achingly hard cock. He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly sank in, filling you all the way to the brim before both of you let out desperate groans.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so fucking tight,” He growled into your ear as he hiked your other leg up off the ground, his broad body holding you up against the cool brick wall.

He slowly slid almost all the way out of your dripping cunt before slamming his hips back into yours, a high-pitched wine danced from your lips and made Frank twitch inside of you.

Frank set a hard and fast pace and he kept plowing into you, over and over, until you felt yourself approaching the edge once again.

“Frankie,” You panted, your fingers gripping onto the short hairs at the back of his neck, causing a hiss to escape Frank’s gritted teeth.

“Tha’s right,” One of his hands wrapped around your thigh to put a delicious pressure on your pulsing clit, “Cum all over daddy’s cock, baby, come on.”

You felt Frankie’s hand cradling the back of your head as your walls squeezed his cock rhythmically. Your legs shook in his grasp and your hands grabbed at every part of him you could reach as the white hotness rushed through your veins. A string of praises spilled out of Frank’s parted lips as you fell apart around him.

Good fucking girl.

So goddamn beautiful, baby, look at you.

Attagirl fuckin’ squeezin’ me like that.

Gonna fill this little pussy up; make you mine, baby girl.

All you could do was frantically buck your hips into his as your mind slowly settled back down to earth, the overstimulation already fogging your brain again.

Frankie’s cock pounding into you, the brick scratching lightly at your exposed skin, the chance of someone turning the corner and catching you two like this — it all felt too good and another high came crashing into like a fucking train before you could even recover from the first one.

Frank crashed his lips into yours to keep you both from moaning out into the wind. He couldn’t hold back anymore as your walls clenched around him again and he fucked into you even harder as he filled your cunt with hot, white ropes of his seed.

You stayed in each other’s arms for another moment, panting and trying to catch your breath. Frank’s forehead rested against yours as he let out a shaky laugh.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” He kissed the tip of your nose and carefully slid out of you, your feet slowly sliding back down to the ground.

“Holy shit yourself, Frankie,” You gripped his shoulder reflexively to keep from falling on your face, even though Frank’s strong hands held you firmly in place in front of him.

He laughed a fuller laugh this time, smoothing your dress back down over your shaky thighs. He pulled you into his chest and planted a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s get you home, you fuckin’ tease,” Frank winked at you before sliding his arm around your waist.

You let out a gasp of feigned shock, your hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Francis! I would never,” You couldn’t even finish your thought without a giggle bubbling up from your chest.

Frank just grumbled a sarcastic Mmmhhm and pulled you closer to him before heading off in the direction of home.

It was going to be a long night and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

#Spotify #frank castle #frank castle fluff #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #the punisher #jon bernthal #beardthalbash

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