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gosmigenergy · 2 months

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Omg, I loved this so much and the cover design is *chef's kiss*

BNBG (brand new baby girl)

frankie morales x curvy OF/cam girl f!reader

summary: frankie has been needing distractions from a hurdle in his sobriety, so he ventures to his frequented subscription service platform to take his mind off things. he sees the title of your page, intrigued immediately, and dives deep into your content. catching your attention on a livestream with his confident commands, frankie becomes infatuated with you and an avid viewer before he decides to DM you one day...and then ends up with a brand new baby girl.

wc: 11k

rating: E (very)

warnings: daddy kink!! **cover does not depict anything about the reader, simply vibes of softness**, vague descriptions of reader's body (plush, thick, curves, soft, etc. no definite descriptors used otherwise. picture her as you want but she is mid to plus size in my head 🫶), no age specified (only that reader started out of college, no specifications of when she went to school), discussions of addiction & drug use, childless frankie au, sex work, sex livestream, consumption of porn, unestablished relationship, online relationship, pet names (conejita, baby, babygirl, pequeña, bunny, etc.), gratuitous descriptions of frankie's dick, SMUT, male masturbation, female masterbation, sex toys, both frankie & reader have thoughts about the other (unprotected piv, fingering, oral, etc.), major dirty talk, d/s dynamics, some fluff sprinkled in <3, this might be lowkey problematic that frankie uses porn to cope (esp reader's porn) buuuuut hopefully it's hot

a/n: cover design & dividers by me 💋 this is an unhinged daydream of mine, hope y'all enjoy! huge thank you to my besties @kiwisbell and @northernbluess for beta-reading 💓

The time on Frankie’s phone screen turns over to well past midnight. Bedroom pitched black save for the blue light illuminating his face as he scrolls on Instagram, unable to fall asleep from thoughts stirring. He wants to scratch the itch — to pick at the scab that’s been growing in his brain for over a year. Temptation runs hot in his veins. A craving, deep in his gut. A strong inhale or the rub of his fingertip against his gums. It would be fast. And it would only last less than half an hour — he could manage it one more time, he was sober enough for that, wasn’t he? He indulges himself in other aspects now: drinking, food, lax with his once regimented workout routine.

Frankie can hear the voice of his sponsor, the one he listens to speak at his weekly meetings in the musty church hall. Sure, his sponsor’s got valuable advice for him, having been sober for decades now, but he can’t relate to Frankie. Not really. He doesn’t know the level of temptation he’s consistently faced with, doesn’t know the fucked up shit he’s seen that got him into the substance in the first place.

His sponsor tells him to get into meditation. That it helps him turn his brain off when he has a craving, redirecting the energy into himself and crushing the aching want for it. Or some spiritual bullshit that Frankie doesn’t understand.

And besides, he’s found his own means of meditation.

Exiting the social media app, he opens his browser and types in the website. The light of the phone illuminates his face enough for his saved login to work, bringing him into his plane of piety. Where he escapes at least three times a week, late nights like now and the occasional mid-afternoon or morning on his desperate days off. When the urge is too strong. When he’s formulating a plan of how to get his hands on a tiny baggie, he loses himself — distracts his brain here.

Scrolling through his usual subscriptions, nothing seems to be hitting the spot. One hand grips his phone, thumb gliding along the screen, while the other cups his hard-on through his boxers, palming himself as he searches for something to get off to.

That’s when he sees it — the perfect combination of words that draws him in by the title. Clicking the page, he’s quick to pledge his monthly amount, eager to get access to all that lies beyond the paywall. And what he’s greeted with, pulls a sigh from his lips in the quiet room, his large hand squeezing his cock through the thin fabric elasticated around his waist.

“Fuck…” he mumbles to himself when he sees that there’s a live stream happening. A cosmic intervention for him, he thinks, a sign that he’s meant to satiate his vices with this.

With you.

The screen changes to a vertical view of you in front of the camera, iPhone seemingly propped up against something while you sit on your mattress. It’s so…delicate and soft. Those are the words he can think of to describe the backdrop that he takes in quickly. Billowing white comforter on your bed, pillows surrounding you. The first thought he has is that it looks like a bed he could easily sleep in — much more inviting than his. There are touches of blush pink, sky blue, and more. A complete rainbow of desaturated colors.

It all compliments you. Centered in the frame, the next sound you make drags his eyes back to your form as you move around. Another squeeze to his cock draws a longer sigh from his lips as he combs across the view of your body, scantily clad in a thong and a bra covered in cherries. The cups of the bra push up the weight of your breasts, spilling over the edge. His tongue runs across his lips to wet them, a new craving ravaging his mouth as he wonders what you would taste like with the skin of your tits dampened by his saliva.

The rest of your body is as softly lined and curving as your chest, waist swooping into your hips as you sit on your knees in front of the camera. Thick thighs spread with the press of your calves into the back of them, the inside of them meeting at the apex and providing cover for what he so badly wants to be shown. There’s a line of your stomach above the waist of your panties, supple skin glistening. Delicious, is all he can think to himself. You look so fucking delicious that it floods his mouth with saliva, enough that he feels the overwhelming need to push his boxers down, freeing his hard cock to rest against his stomach until he’s spitting into his palm and starting a slow, languid pace.

The grain of his palm drags against the length of his cock as he keeps a steady flick of his wrist. Not too fast, but not achingly slow. Enough to start stoking the burning coals in the pit of his stomach as he watches you on the small rectangular screen. Puffs of hot air leave his mouth, his jaw hanging open while he watches you shift to reach for something out of frame, the first look at your ass gifted to him. Rounded swell of curves with the fabric of your thong dipping between them. The slight jiggle of your cheeks makes Frankie moan quietly, taking the briefest moment to picture that same ripple in your skin from him fucking you from behind.

“Shit…” he grumbles under his breath, minorly increasing the pressure of his grip to squeeze his cock as his hand moves, desperate to mimic the feeling of someone — apparently you, despite not knowing anything close to your name.

Skin on skin catches on the base of his dick and he exhales sharply with his teeth bared, opening his palm to spit once again. It’s not enough, but he continues the slide of his wrist as he sets his phone down on the mattress briefly, reaching over to his nightstand, pausing once again to dispense a pump of lotion into the palm of his right hand. Wrapping the moistened hand around his cock again, he starts a faster pace before slowing down to drag out his pleasure longer.

Returning into the frame fully, he sees your face for the first time and coughs as his open-mouthed inhale seizes in his throat. His fingers circle the base of his cock, squeezing hard as he takes in your face. Perfectly primped with a layer of makeup, but he can tell you’ve got the kind of beauty that wouldn’t ever need changing or enhancing — effortless. Velvety skin, as silky as the rest of your body but with an added glow. Bright eyes that are shining with mischief and want, and a smirk that’s as playful; he finds himself shutting his eyes again, for a few lazy strokes as he pictures that face, and your plush, pliable body, on your knees in front of him. Eagerly awaiting his cock to fill your mouth.

Fuck, you’re really doing a number on him tonight. He needed this. His desperation for a high of any kind coats his open mouth with each labored breath.

Focused back on his phone, you show off the treasure that you dug for off-camera. A lilac vibrator, one that fits the length of your hand, with a swell of size rounded off at the tip and tapered in at the end. Leaning closer to your camera, Frankie groans when your tits bounce, spilling out of your bra with a tiny nip slip that he catches immediately. And it only makes him want to see more.

“Mm, c’mon, pretty girl, show me something here. M’fuckin’ dying…Necesito la distracción (I need the distraction),” Frankie speaks toward the screen, feeling pathetic as he barters with you in the one-way system.

As if you heard his pleas, you adjust your position, laying back on the mountain of pillows to prop yourself up and letting one leg fall open. Even in the lowered lighting of the room you’re in, presumably your bedroom, he can make out the wet patch covering your folds. He finds himself wondering if the act of getting off in front of a camera, in front of people watching live, is what gets you wet. Or if you have a fluffer like he’s heard they do in porn.

He’d wanna be your fluffer.

Or maybe he’d want to be the one to fuck you in the porno. At least both of you’d get to finish then.

“Think I need someone who knows better than me to tell me what they wanna see.” Your voice is saccharine, the slight fry in your voice jolts his hips into his hand, mumbles of curses slipping from his lips. “Anybody have any suggestions for me, chat?”

A low hum starts when you press the button of the vibrator in your hand, spreading your knees further to open your core to the view of the camera completely. Your opposite hand to the toy hooks into the crotch of your thong, pulling the small bit of fabric, practically a string with the amount it’s covering.

Frankie’s mouth waters as the speed of his hand picks up, the grip of his fingers not nearly as satisfying as the clench of a pussy, but he’ll make do. He has been for a year; you know what they say, no relationships for the first year sober. That, and he couldn’t find anyone that could take his mind off of coke long enough for him to get it up. So eventually he just let it be.

Now, though, he’s painfully hard. The quick movements of his hand send a shock of pleasure up to his brain, veins contracting with the extra effort to keep the blood supply to his cock. Thumb brushes over his tip, mixing in his precum with the other lubrication, a hiss from behind his teeth shot out from the stimulation. His gaze is glued onto his rectangular screen, huffing out deep breaths while you press the vibrator against your clit. There’s a quiver in your thighs that he notices, as if this is your first touch after teasing yourself, or someone else teasing you. Sensitive already.

Biting your lip, your eyes scan the screen as you read aloud, “FiveFingersAtFreddys said ‘Take your bra off please.’ Well, actually he said ‘Take your tits out’ but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, dude, and say that you actually do have good manners.”

He laughs, and it’s a first for him. Laughing at someone’s jokes as he jerks off, alone.

You comply with the request, taking the vibrator away from your clit to reach around and unclasp your bra. Tossing the material aside, you lean back into the pillows again and the next sight nearly makes Frankie come right then and there until he takes his hand away completely. Laid out, legs open and fingers pulling your panties aside, vibrator pushing into your clit and driving a high-pitched moan from your lips. All while you're bare from the waist up, cushioned torso melting into your heavy tits, pert nipples bringing them to a point. The form of a Greek classics statue, one with fleshy outlines carved impeccably from marble.

“La obra maestra (A masterpiece)…” Frankie whispers to himself, the squelch of his lotioned hand working his hard length bringing him back into his body, a moan slipping from his mouth.

“I think I need someone else to tell me how I should play with myself. M’so wet, jus’ wanna touch myself but I don’t know where to start. All seems like—like it’s going to feel so good,” you stutter out when your hips buck against the vibrator, a whimper echoing from your chest as you turn your attention to the chat again, awaiting intriguing instructions.

Maybe it’s sexual frustration, maybe it’s pathetic. Maybe it’s the intense fucking craving to replace his need for coke high with a need for an orgasm, but for whatever reason chosen, Frankie finds himself clicking on the comment box with his thumb, typing wildly with one finger. He takes a second to read it for spelling errors before he presses send. Too lost in it all now to care.

Your eyes perk up, smirk growing on your face when you read the influx of chat replies. One must have caught your eye because the vibrator is being left to the side again. Fingers hook into the waist of your panties, slowly pulling them off as you read aloud the comment that caught your attention.

“There’s a new name I see here…Maybe we should do what you want, Mr. FlyingFish. Consider it a welcome gift from me to you.” His heart is pounding in his chest, hand gripping tighter and twisting around his dick as he fucks his fist, mumbles of curses spilling out as he listens to you repeat what he desperately typed not a minute prior. It sounds dirtier coming from you, despite his best efforts at politeness, “You said ‘Please show off how many of your little fingers fit into your pretty pussy. Think a pretty girl like you deserves to fuck her fingers…’ Alright, FlyingFish, you’ve got me blushin’ from that request and that is difficult to do, sir. Thank you for calling me a pretty girl. I promise I’m smart, too. I’ll be sure to count ‘em for you.”

One finger slips into your dripping entrance easily, the other hand reaching for the vibrator and replacing it at your clit while your finger starts to fuck shallowly, “One finger…”

Whines of frustration crack over his small speakers before a bigger moan falls from your lips, a second finger slid into you alongside the first, “Oh, fuck…That’s two. Mm, how am I doin’? FlyingFish, d’you think I can get another?”

Frankie’s wrist flicks rapidly now, the direct address to him driving him mad as the sounds of his arm slapping against his stomach and thigh clap in his room and cut into the sounds your pussy is making as you get yourself off. He types as quickly as he can, strings of curses flowing from his mouth as the heat of his desire burns red hot inside of him. He’s so fucking close but he wants to watch you fall apart at the same time. Wants to be the reason you come.

“Oh, shit—you’ve got a mouth, FlyingFish. ‘I’d hope you can take another, otherwise, you couldn’t take my cock.’ Is that a promise, Fish? You saying you got a big dick for me to take?”

You whimper and he’s edging himself, squeezing hard to stay together when you inadvertently use his call sign. The closest thing you have to his name, and all he can think about is you screaming it while he’s fucking you. He wants to tell you it’s a promise only if you follow through, indulging in the fantasy of actually getting to touch you only for a moment. But instead, his attention is completely drawn to a third finger stretching your cunt in full view of the camera, your wanton moans popping in his speakers and driving his forearm to burn with the strain of muscle as he attempts to fist his cock even harder.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Come for me, baby, please fucking come on those fingers,” he begs no one but himself, a blinding white heat licking the entire inside of his body as he balances on the edge. Waiting for you to fall first.

“Oh my god, fuck…” The last word is drawn out, pitching up at the end as your fingers fuck faster, squelching sounds of your wetness flooding his mouth as his brain pleads for a taste of your cunt. “I don’t think—I don’t think I can get a fourth. M’gonna fucking come—ah! Oh, fuck me, Fish…”

You barely whisper his name, or at least what is his name to you, but it’s singlehandedly what punches out his guttural moan, ropes of warm, sticking spend coating his hand as he keeps moving and spilling onto his stomach. It’s prolonged, the tension in his calves relaxing after he spills the most come he has in a while.

Airy, light, a rush of blood back to his head has his whole body tingling with a high. Satiating his cravings from earlier, dissolving the want, the need, for anything of the sort. Instead, it’s replaced with thoughts of you — the image of you laying fucked out on his phone, adding his own touch of imagination when he closes his eyes to see you as you are but covered with his come the same way he is. Normally, this is when the smallest bit of shame crawls up his spine and sits at the nape of his neck, but instead, he melts into warmth. Faced with your smile as you sit up and lean over toward the camera again, laughing to yourself as you end the live.

“Um, if you’re still here, thanks for that FlyingFish. Felt fucking good…And to everyone else, I’ll stream again on Monday night, same time as always. Night, everyone. Have a good weekend.” All he hears before the sound cuts out is your excited giggles, the brightness of your post-orgasm joy stretching a smile across your face. He’s faced with a black screen, staring back at himself in the reflection with the shit-eating, smug grin he has on his face.

Now he’s got plans for Monday night.

Frankie hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. He’s hooked. Images of your sloping curves flash behind his eyes on the days when you’re not available to watch, his hips fucking his fist in bed, the shower, even on his couch with the blinds all open because he was that needy. Thoughts of you replaced his thoughts of the white powder, chasing after the different high he’s gifted by your voice, your body — all through a screen.

He’s caught himself rasping affections as he pictures you, hissed compliments as he comes and imagining what he’d say if you were in front of him. Letting him use your mouth or your cunt. He’s even gotten into a habit of imagining his head between your legs; the hardest he came is the one time he pictured you sitting on his face and all of the pretty sounds you’d make for him. Fuck, cariño, that’s so good. Mm, bonita, you’re such a good girl. Love doin’ what you’re told, don’t you, baby?

The fact that he doesn’t even know your name but is this infatuated isn’t lost on him. He knows he has an addictive personality, but this feels different. Like he was meant to find you for some reason. His sponsor would tell him it’s a call from the universe that this is all part of his ‘journey to sobriety’, but really, he just thinks that you’re fucking hot. And the tiniest part of him thinks you might like him watching too, even though you have no idea who he is.

Each time he watches you live, his thumb taps across the keyboard, responding to your requests and even adding in some encouragement. Virtually having conversations with you, he quickly became a frequent flyer (your joke, not his). You listen to him. Like the sweet girl that you are. Taking his suggestions — his demands when you beg — and showing off for him, a whimpering mess when he’s done with you.

At times, it feels like he’s the only one watching, or at least the only one that matters to you. With the amount of times his username falls from your lips, it’s easy to fall into a bubble of you and him. You’ve picked up the habit of referring to him as ‘Fish’ and it’s driven him mad, the closest thing to his name that he’ll hear you say. You give him material to think back about for days after. I love a man that knows what he wants, Fish. You can boss me around, Fishie. I always know what you tell me to do is gonna feel so fucking good.

All of this over the last few weeks has built up his courage, which is why he finds himself sitting on his couch with your profile open, the sun barely set outside. A random baseball game plays on his TV, but his focus is completely on his phone, writing and deleting a DM to you about ten times.

It has to be right. Friendly, but not stalker-ish. Flirty, but not creepy. Commanding enough to get your attention among what he imagines are countless messages in your inbox.

After another good ten minutes drafting a message, his thumb hovers over the ‘Send’ button for a few seconds. Squeezing his eyes closed, he lowers his finger and hits the button, anxiety washing over him as he opens his eyes to stare at the blue bubble.

No going back now.

Standing at the stove, water boils over the side of the pot while you pour in the uncooked pasta noodles. A few drops hit your skin, mumbles of curses leaving your lips, “Fucking shit!”

You stir the pasta before reaching for the nearest kitchen towel to wipe the once-scalding water off of your hand. A deep sigh exhales, relaxing your shoulders as the ding of a notification draws your attention to your phone lying on the marble countertop next to you.

What you find on your lock screen sends a shock of excitement down your spine, the warmth of anticipation radiating around your body to tingle your fingers and toes.

[Direct Message:] FlyingFish

Quick to swipe up, the device unlocks with a scan of your face and opens a new notification when you click on it with your thumb. Subconsciously, your opposite thumb has ended up between your teeth, biting down on the skin as you hold back an eager grin while you wait for his message to load.

You’ve never had this reaction to a message before, actually, it was usually the opposite. Rolling your eyes, ignoring the men until the last moment. Only responding to keep them enticed and subscribed — all of which keeps more money in your pocket. That’s really why you started this whole thing anyway.

FlyingFish:

Hey

A puff of air exhales through your nose, a chuckle cutting the otherwise silent kitchen. Shaking your head to yourself, you can’t help but smile at your screen. Heartbeat fluttering, you internally kick yourself for having such a reaction to such a simple message. Not even knowing who this person is, you find yourself typing back a response.

Hey there Fish

Guess I never actually asked if I could call you that

You turn back to your task at hand, continuing to cook your dinner and attempting to put out of your mind all of your assumptions about this person messaging you. You’d guess it’s a guy, an educated inference based on the demographics of your audience, but everything else is a complete mystery. The one time he insinuated he had a big dick stuck in your mind, and based on his behavior, you’d like to assume he isn’t lying. An image of a man sticks out to you each time you whimper his nickname, on camera and that handful of times off camera and alone: tall, solid, and strong. Brunette, only because that’s your type. Rough hands and commanding touches. Someone to bend your stubborn will into submission. He’s confident, at least through the chat, and he seems to know what he’s talking about. Each time you see his username pop up, you can feel yourself start to get wetter. Since you started this whole gig, there hasn’t been anyone quite like him. It’s always people asking for more for them — Show us your tits. Say my name. Turn around so we can see your ass.

But with him, it’s the opposite. He asks for more for you, which you guess is what he gets off to, not that you mind. Bet one more finger would feel even better for you, baby. Curl your fingers, cariño. You reaching that special spot? Gotta get deeper for me, baby. Rub slower, drag it out. Promise it’ll be even sweeter at the end.

Always polite but stern in his demands. Never too much, mostly not enough for your taste. He’s built up an appetite in you that you haven’t had before, a desire to please and to be good for him. All of it doesn’t feel like performing when he’s telling you what to do, it feels like he’s there, deep rasp in your ears as you picture thick fingers in place of yours and tight grips on your plush curves. Fingerprint-shaped bruises left behind and sore muscles in your thighs from holding yourself up as he asks you to come for him over and over and over.

A vibration against the hard surface of the countertop refocuses your gaze from a thousand yards away. Turning to grab your cell, you rub your thighs together in hopes of relenting the ache between them from your daydreams. Wet panties get caught in your folds, discomfort only momentary before you lean over the counter and open your legs, reading the mystery man’s response.

You can call me anything you want bonita

But I will tell you that Fish is pretty close to my name

Fish is close to your name?

What is it? Bass? Salmon? Trout?

Funny

Fish is short for Catfish which was my call sign with my Special Ops team

Ahhh a military man. You know I like a man in uniform

Oh really? :)

Don’t wear it anymore but does it still count if I was once a man in uniform?

Hmm

:( please?

I wanna be liked by you

Showing your cards there Fishie

Not trying to play it cool?

Once you get to know me baby you’ll come to find out that me and cool don’t really go together.

I doubt that’s true

So Catfish is your call sign? Who came up with that?

My buddies on my team

Said I couldn’t grow a beard for shit and that it looked like I had whiskers

So Catfish

Well I don’t wanna call you Fish if it’s mean like that :(

What’s your real name? If you wanna tell me

Are you gonna sell my identity and let someone tank my credit score?

Never

It wouldn’t benefit me much if your card gets declined every month

I appreciate the honesty baby haha

My name’s Frankie

I like your name Frankie :)

It’s nearly an hour of messaging back and forth, flirting intermingled with genuine curiosity about the other’s life, history and background. Frankie learns that you were struggling to find a job straight out of university and needed to make rent, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to try out selling content. You detailed briefly the time that you grew your following, telling him about your Instagram too, which he follows in that instant. The notification makes you laugh and you follow him back despite the profile being completely empty of any information besides his name. Not even a profile picture. He learns that you don’t speak much to your parents anymore, that your siblings live across the country so you don’t get to see them much.

He tells you about his family — no siblings, parents that live in another part of the state and refuse to visit him in the city — and his chosen family, the Special Ops guys. Laughter hiccups from your chest when he recalls a few of the better stories from them, telling you about each other them as if he was preparing you to actually meet them. He has that thought, briefly, about all of you out for drinks. How they would probably like you as much as he does; your charm and sincerity would hook them all just as it has for him. Frankie tells you all about his current hobby, fixing up an old, cherry red 1978 Jeep Cherokee. How the only other time he spends online is searching for car parts, watching Youtube as he works on the vehicle in his garage.

You make a cheeky comment that he must be good with his hands before sending another message immediately:

Would you wanna actually talk? Like on Facetime maybe

Frankie stares at the message, blinking slowly as if it will disappear. You’re asking to talk to him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I mean, if he knew that was an option he would have asked himself…

He wouldn’t and he knows he wouldn’t based on the way his stomach has dropped to his feet, his hands have gone clammy and his throat tightened. Swallowing hard, he whispers a small pep talk to himself to work up the nerve to say yes. He wants to see you, he always wants to see more of you, but the fact that you’d see him as well…he can’t cope.

Heat trickles across the back of his neck and up his cheeks, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as his brain completely wipes any thought to respond. Dropping his phone into his lap, both of his hands reach up, one grabbing the brim of his cap and lifting it from his head while the other runs through his hair to push it back away from his face. In the corner of his eye, he catches his left knee bouncing. Lips press together in a thin line, rolling the flesh between his teeth before he picks up his phone again and sends a message back to you with just his phone number.

Not even a minute later, his screen lights up with a list of digits strung together in an unfamiliar order. As if it were possible, he felt his stomach drop lower than his feet, deep into the ground below and burrowing away along with his confidence.

Shit, this was a stupid idea. He’s going to make a fool of himself and you’ll lose interest and he’ll have to think about you every day for the rest of his life and wonder what you’re doing, how you’re doing, even what your name is—

Fuck, he’s gonna miss the call.

Frankie decides that it is much more embarrassing to miss the call he just sent his phone number for than to potentially come off as uncool, so his finger swipes to the right to answer. Quickly, he turns off his camera before you notice, opting for the level of anonymity to remain.

“Hi, Frankie…” Your candied voice drips with sweetness around his name. He’s been imagining you saying it, trying to get it right in his mind over the past few weeks, but hearing it now he relishes in the fact that none of them were right. None of them sounded like spun sugar, like it did just now.

You fill the frame from your shoulders up, the same bright smile on your face that he’s seen at the end of each live, after he’s had his fun with you, but looking completely different out of that context. It’s a bit shy, demure in the way you're resting in your bed against your pillows, t-shirt on and fresh-faced. You look beautiful. And it makes him feel a bit silly that you can’t see his reaction.

“Hey, bonita. M’sorry I don’t have my camera on, jus’ nervous. Didn’t want you to hang up right away gettin’ a look at this mug,” he says with self-deprecating laughter at the end, watching as your brows knit together with a pout on your lips.

“You don’t have to apologize, Frankie. M’happy to do whatever you’re comfortable with. Besides, if your voice gives me any indication of your looks, you’d probably be making me way more nervous.” Teeth bite into your bottom lip as you hold in a grin, a hand coming into view to nudge at your nose. He’s seen you do it a few times on live, whenever you’re waiting in anticipation. For him, he’d like to think.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he teases, the smirk playing at his face evident in his flirty tone.

“You jus’ sound…nice.”

“Nice? That’s all? Why would that make you nervous, baby?”

A sigh slips from your lips, rolling your head back as he hears the smallest whine from you. His cock jumps in his sweats, already half hard from the flirty back and forth in your messages.

“God, you’re going to be a problem with all those pet names,” you say exasperated. Frankie laughs at his screen, feeling like an idiot sitting here alone and smiling like a fool. You’re cute when you’re mad.

“You can tell me your name and I can use that instead?” he propositions, licking his lips as he awaits the piece of information he’s been chomping at the bit to have.

“No! I mean, I’ll tell you my name, but…I like the nicknames. Keep them. Please.” Your words scramble out and it makes him grin wider, witnessing you as nervous as he’s feeling. When you give him your name, he repeats it a few times, rolling it around in his mouth, tasting the syllables on his tongue. Delicate, floral, sweet but a slight tang. Smooth as it rolls across his vocal cords, soothing the rising heat he’s feeling with a refreshing chill. Like peaches and cream.

The two of you chat back and forth for a while, pride swelling in his chest when you laugh at his stupid jokes or give him a compliment, despite being none-the-wiser to his looks. He’s quick to make you blush with his comments, telling you how beautiful he thinks you are. And Frankie’s thanking himself for keeping his camera off, because at times during the call, his eyes drift to your chest, blatantly staring at your perked up nipples through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. It grows his hard on, the softness of your breasts bouncing around as you restlessly squirm during the call enticing him to picture getting his mouth on them. He’d guess you’d taste the same as your name.

The next time you move, he watches your chest again before a sight in the background catches his eye, drawing a chuckle from his mouth. A stuffed bunny lays next to you in your bed, messy with age and love. A soft pink color with a red ribbon tied around its neck, he finds the need to ask about it prodding in his mind.

“Is that who films everything for you?” he jokes, watching your face twist with confusion before looking to your side and bursting out in a laugh. Returning your eyes to the camera, you shake your head timidly.

“No, unfortunately he’s pretty limited to cuddling.”

“He? Didn’t know you had a man in your life, baby. Feels like we shouldn’t be talking like this in front of him.” The sound of your laughter quickens his pulse, the melody trilling in his ears with comfort.

“Well, I guess if you could offer me more than cuddling, he could be demoted.”

“I think I can offer more, Conejita.” Frankie watches as something akin to excitement, but burning brighter, flashes in your eyes. You sit up more, one eyebrow raising in challenge.

“What could you offer me, Frankie?” It’s a loaded question. He could be polite, steer the conversation away from where he so desperately wants it to go, to be a gentleman. It would be easy to make a joke, to get you both to move on.

But he always wants to see where this could go. You’re the one who wanted to talk on the phone in the first place. And he would never suggest anything to make you uncomfortable, and he thinks that you know that. It’s like what the two of you do in your lives — a conversation, a back and forth that may end up benefitting both of you.

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, Conejita. I’m a man of many talents.” The words are slick on his tongue, silvery with enticement.

“Hm…” you ponder out loud, tapping your index finger against your bottom lip before turning back to the camera, “Can you cook?”

“Decently. Can’t claim I’m a chef, but I feed myself. And m’pretty good at a grill and makin’ some of my mamá’s recipes. Insisted on teaching them to me so they didn’t end with her.”

Grinning warmly, he feels his heartbeat kick up against his chest, thumping hard at the sight of you giving him that look. “That’s so sweet that she taught you. You can teach me, then someone else in the world will know her recipes too.”

Christ, you’re so fucking adorable. He doesn’t know what he wants more in the moment: to keep talking and simply listen to your voice, or to flirt his way into something more.

“She might be a better teacher than me, baby. Would probably be over the moon if you asked to learn since she had to force me a bit,” he laughs along with your quiet giggle, taking a deep breath when you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Are you a good teacher of other things?”

“I’d like to think so. Haven’t I taught you new things already, Conejita?”

There goes his heartbeat when you look away from the camera, smirk lifting your cheekbones as your demeanor goes shy, shrugging your shoulders as you lay back again, shifting to get comfortable.

“You have…And now I’ve learned how sexy your voice is, too. I’ll be picturing everything you type now to be said in your voice.”

Frankie breathes out a chuckle, a heat burning the nap of his neck, trickling down his back. He feels the effects of his blood rushing below his belt, ever-so-slightly lightheaded as he quietly palms his bulge in his sweatpants.

“My voice is sexy?”

“Um, duh. Are you kidding me? You sound all…rugged and raspy and deep. Like you could manhandle me easily,” you admit your thoughts easily, and he sighs quietly at the thought of having you in front of him to throw around his bed and mold you into the positions he dreams of getting you into.

“No tienes ni idea de lo que haría contigo (You've got no idea what I would do with you)...” he mumbles under his breath, hearing a soft whimper from you. One of your arms is slung across your front, pressing your breast into the other and he can take a guess as to what your hand is up to. “You want some help, baby? I bet you’re jus’ feeling so needy, aren’t you? Listening to my voice got you that worked up?”

“Mhmm…I need it, Frankie…” Your voice has the edge of a whine and he exhales slowly as he hears you beg for him. Not his call sign or a username. His name. Him. There’s no one else who’s making you feel this way, no one else striving for attention.

He pushes his pants down, pulling his hard cock out to start slowly stroking. You’ve left him aching, dripping precum that his fingers smear around his length to lubricate as he moves up and down in a teasing pace.

“Use your manners, Conejita. What d’you say?”

“Please. Please, Frankie. I wanna hear your voice, I want you to tell me what to do.” He hisses from behind his teeth as he squeezes his cock at the base, leaning his head back against his headboard before his focus zeroes in on you on his screen, asking for his guidance, his control to get you off. No one else privy to the sights he’s seeing.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me, baby. Why don’t you take off your shirt for me? Let me see you, bonita.” Wetting his lips with his tongue when you move to prop your phone up on your mattress, an expert at framing yourself perfectly. The thin, worn fabric of your sleep shirt slips over your head, leaving you on full display for him — already pantyless. Whether you started the call with any on is a mystery to him, but now, he settles back to tell you exactly what he wants from you…what he knows will feel good for his conejita.

“Okay, bunny, lean back for me…That’s it, get comfortable. Good girl.” Looking into your camera to your side, a nervous smile plays at your lips, shyness overcoming you as you wait with bated breath for Frankie, who’s still a mystery to you, to instruct you. It’s driving him mad, how trusting you are of him without ever seeing his face. Such a sweet girl. His sweet girl.

“Show me how you like to play when no one’s watching.”

When his phone dings one evening a few weeks later, Frankie pulls himself out from under the hood of his project car. A familiar fizz bubbles over his body, a Pavlovian response that’s been built over the last few weeks he’s been talking to you. There have been text chains, full of flirty sincerity, and more phone calls, all with his camera off but not all ending like that first one. There have been times when the two of you have had long conversations, full of laughter and learning about the other. A few calls have ended with you falling asleep, stuffed bunny tucked under your chin and pillowy lips parted slightly with deep, even breaths.

Admittedly, he’s grown attached. Maybe a bit much for…whatever this relationship or friendship is, but he can’t help the teenage giddiness he’s felt with every text chime, ringtone, or dial that he’s found you on the other end of.

He’s got a crush.

So immediately at the peal of his cell, he’s reaching for the rag on his workbench, wiping his hands clean of grease before reading over your message.

Conejita:

Hiii 😚

Are you busy?

Grinning like a fool at the gray bubble, Frankie begins to type out a response before abandoning the message and clicking the phone button at the top of your name instead. Pressing the speaker to his ear, he runs a thumb across his bottom lip while he listens to the trill of the dial tone. Steps pace him across the garage, counting them in his head as he waits for an answer.

“Hey, stranger.” The line clicks on and your voice immediately draws a smile across Frankie’s face, hearing one of yours in your upbeat tone.

“Hey, Conejita. What’s up with you?” Even your presence over the phone calms his nerves, sparking kindling low in his gut that spreads down to his toes and up to the back of his neck. Frankie tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder as he wanders back over to the carhood, shutting it carefully. He retreats inside, washing his hands as he listens to you recount your day.

“...So then I got pissed off and left ‘cause she was being so unreasonable. And then I wanted to talk to you ‘cause, I dunno.” The intensity in your cadence slows down toward the tailend of your story of an argument with a friend of yours; Frankie chuckles, biting his tongue while you sigh deeply and he dries his hands off on a kitchen towel.

“You don’t know why you wanted to talk to me? Don’t get all shy on me now, cariño,” he teases you, receiving a frustrated huff on the other end. “Well, for what it’s worth, I agree with you. She sounds like she has a stick up her ass. And m’glad you wanted to call me, Conejita.”

“D’you wanna switch to Facetime?”

“‘Course, I do. Always wanna see your face, jus’ one sec…” Frankie climbs his stairs two at a time, reaching the landing as his screen lights up with the Facetime request from you. He answers it, camera off, while he changes out of dirty clothes and listens to you chatting about plans for the weekend. He mentions going out with the guys tomorrow night, and you make a jest that gets him laughing, both of you bantering back and forth before he settles back on his bed.

“Y’know, I am content to chat with you like this, Frankie. But I keep wondering what you look like…” In the small rectangle of his screen, you lean forward to fill more of it, cleavage exposed in your bralette. He’s been waiting for this to be brought up again, and feeling so much more comfortable with you, he can’t admit he hasn’t thought about it. But with that stronger connection comes the anxieties. What if he isn’t what you pictured? What if he isn’t your type? What if you don’t like him anymore?

Frankie thinks he’s decent looking enough — he hasn’t had much trouble pulling girls since he was a teenager, but not being the most commanding or charismatic in the room, he has had his bouts of struggle in the relationship department.

“Please, Frankie. S’not fair I get to hear your sexy voice and not know what you look like. Pretty please, I’ll give you something special if you do,” you bargain with a pout on your face, bottom lip protruding and puffy. He wants to kiss it away, bite down on the glossy flesh, work away your frowning moue with his own mouth. Wonderings of what you taste like.

Coming back into himself, he wears a proud, intrigued smirk that you’re blind to except for the way his words curl around his slick, silvery tongue, “Oh, is that right, bunny? What if I wanna know what the something special is to decide?”

“Not how it works, silly. Either you want something special or you don’t.” A stern shake of the head, sitting up straight as you raise an eyebrow at him.

He sits with it for a moment, thoughts warring on the inside. In the end, his realistic side barters that either way could end badly: he doesn’t turn the camera on and you get frustrated, ending it, or he does turn the camera on and you don’t like the look of him, ending it. A phantom whisper of your voice, bubbly and bright, reminds him that it could make everything even better, and that ultimately is what convinces him.

“Alright, alright. You make a convincing argument, Conejita.”

A beaming smile stretches across your face as you draw a leg up to your chest, resting your head on your kneecap while you hold back your excitement and anticipation. Frankie takes in the sight of you, astir on tenterhooks.

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbles to himself before his thumb is pressing the camera button, illuminating himself on your screen. He sees himself in the smaller rectangle in the corner, grimacing before he laughs softly and grins, awaiting your reaction with waves of solicitude raging inside.

You see him, your Frankie. Filling your phone screen. Finally.

A nearly inaudible gasp leaves your lips, blocked from the mic by your knee. Studying his face, you witness the lines next to his eyes deepening as he laughs, his shy smile growing on his face. Big brown eyes strike your chest, their sincere softness making you want to fall into their warmth and stay there forever. Like the comforting heat of a mug of coffee on a chilly morning. You note that your visualizations were correct, mostly. Brown hair, curling out from under the cap branded with Standard Oil that sits on his head. Wide set shoulders that extend out of frame, a build to him that screams he most definitely can manhandle you around in bed. His call sign makes a bit more sense to you, seeing patches in his short beard, admiring the one on his left cheek that is shaped like a heart. Simply endearing. The image of him in front of you sends a shock to your core, wet spot in your panties growing as you begin to imagine what the rest of him looks like.

Hot is all you can think. Frankie is fucking hot.

His voice cuts through your trails of admiration, joking around to break the silent tension, “So are you gonna ask me to keep my camera off now?”

As you swallow to recover some of your composure, shaking your head back and forth quickly before a genuinely eager smile paints your expression. Leaning closer to see more of his details, freckles across his neck and where his shirt exposes a sliver of his chest, the peak of his cupid’s bow shaded by his mustache, long eyelashes that reach toward his eyebrows. You drop your knee from in front of you, leaning an elbow on the surface of your desk and resting your shin in your palm.

“Frankie, respectfully, what the fuck? You’re so hot.”

A boisterous laugh rolls from his chest, the same shy smile returning with a blush across his cheeks, “Conejita, you’re the hot one between us.”

“No, no, I’m being serious. You’re like — Damn. Your smile. And you have pretty eyes, Frankie. And you’re just like…really fucking hot. I can’t even think of another word. You should be the one doing what I’m doing.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re only seeing my face, baby.”

“Yeah, and? It’s a pretty face…Wanna sit on it.” Your giggle cuts through his speakers, and Frankie groans at the comment. Saliva coats your mouth as you watch the muscles in his neck tense, licking your chops like a prowling lion. If only he was in front of you right now…

“Diablita…eres una problema. (Little devil…you’re a problem.) Do I get my special something now?”

Another giggle and a mischievous smirk make Frankie’s brows stitch together in frustration, your shoulders shrugging as you toy with the strap of your bra, hooked under your index finger, “Actually, I think I wanna move the goalpost. Will you show me what I’m missin’, Frankie? I wanna see more.”

Desire burns bright and wild inside of you, ache building between your legs as your arousal drips from your panties and onto your thighs. You’d been picturing him — all of him — for weeks. Ever since that first message. But now, seeing him on your phone screen, your imagination is running wild with newfound information and attempting to fill in the blanks. He has to be big, thickness would be just right. He’s the quiet type, unassuming in his own looks, which means he has to have a virtually perfect dick. It's the rules of the universe. Undecided if he’s cut or not, but regardless, picturing your manicured fingers wrapped around it and tongue licking at his tip. Watching him come undone from you. Stomach tensing, those long fingers that you sneak a peek of when he adjusts his hat wrapped up in your hair. Rasping moans. What would he taste like?

Frankie shakes his head, a quick tsking drawing your attention back to the moment as he looks on with a teasing expression, “Conejita, I don’t think it works like that.”

“Okay, then no special something for you. Your choice, Francisco.”

He watches as you move the strap back up your shoulder, the soft snap of the elastic against your skin. Huffing out a frustrated breath, he mumbles, “No serías tan valiente si estuvieras aquí conmigo, mocosa. (You wouldn’t be so brave if you were here with me, brat.)”

Uncaring in whatever annoyances he was airing with you, you watch him sit up further in the frame, knocking off his cap and reaching for the hem of his shirt. Despite his words, he lifts his shirt over his head, looking back at the camera, bare shoulders and chest on display, “This is what you get for now, bunny.”

Satisfaction glows from your smile, biting hard into your bottom lip while Frankie watches your eyes search everywhere on your screen besides his own. A stern clearing of his throat breaks your trance, a commanding expression on Frankie’s face.

“You promised me something, Conejita.”

A deep pout replaces your grin, huffing in defiance as you slip your bra straps from your shoulders, “Can’t you please take the rest off? Show me what I wanna see, Frankie. Please.”

“Nah uh. Quit demanding, baby. Y’know that’s my job. Now tell me, what are you gonna do for me to get what you want?” His unwavering voice surprises you, despite hearing it for weeks. With the added heat factor of his looks, you crumble a bit quicker, clenching your thighs as you sigh and nod obediently.

“I’ll do anything, Frankie. Jus’ tell me what to do, I wanna make you happy.”

He grins on the screen, sincere softness peeking out, “Oh, baby, y’know it’s easy to make me happy. Jus’ gotta be a good little bunny, yeah?” He hums, licking his lips as he ponders what he wants from you tonight, a night he wants to fill with another milestone for the two of you. He’s only seen you use a small vibrator or your fingers on the phone with you, but he knows what else you have. He’s watched the video of you using it on your profile only about ten times.

“Get your pretty pink toy for me, Conejita. Y’know the one. And then get on the floor and you’re going to show me exactly how you use it.”

There’s rustling as you follow his instructions, stripping bare and suctioning the toy to your hardwood floors, propping the phone up for him to see it all. The hot pink dildo bobbles from you moving around it, glistening with lube that you applied — even though with one glance at your cunt, both you and Frankie know you wouldn’t need it. Straddling over the silicone, you slowly tease your entrance with it, whining before you make one more attempt to Frankie watching you with a smugness in his smirk.

“Please, Frankie, can’t you please show me your cock? I wanna picture it while I fuck myself. Wanna know if it’s how I imagined…Dream about it a lot.” He can read right through your tactics, but his dick can’t. It strains against his zippered jeans, throbbing under the fabric for some sort of relief. He squeezes his palm over it once, exhaling as he shakes his head, strong in his convictions.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll show you what you wanna see.” No more room for negotiations.

“Yes’sir.”

Frankie’s mouth hangs ajar while his focus trains on the apex of your thighs. Watching you slowly sink down, the bright pink rubbery toy disappears inside of you. Whimpers slip from your lips as you brace your hands on your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin. Need burns brightly in his chest and below his belt, clenching his jaw while he imagines biting the meaty part of you, leaving teeth marks in his wake before settling his mouth at your entrance.

Your hips set a quick pace, desperate for the high you’ve been dripping for since getting on the phone with Frankie. A low growl followed with a disapproving tut clicks over the speakers of your phone.

“Slow down, baby girl. Not a race…” Frankie corrects, and the only response you have is a frantic nod, turning your movements to a drag. The toy fills you up, stretches you the most that you have ever been. Pain heats your feelings of pleasure, intensifying it all in the lightness of your limbs and head. The ridges of the faux veins of the fake cock impress into your walls, the tip of it notching at the spot inside of you that Frankie taught you to reach. It only skates by it, whines accompanying your frustrations.

Frankie, on the other end, listens to the squelch of your pussy around the silicone. The sound drives him to fully cup his erection through his pants, palming himself with heady breaths as your own moans for him drive the iron hot brand of need deeper into his skin. He can see your need for a change, your need to be given permission to chase that feeling that’s within reach.

“Lean back, little bunny. Sit back on your hands and use your hips…Show me more of that pretty pussy,” he instructs, cool and confident while his hips buck up into his hand. Being his perfect girl, you do as he says and change positions, gasping when you sink down onto the toy. Your cunt clenches around it, a satisfied smirk painting Frankie’s face. He knows he’s gotten you to hit that special spot. With the grip your entrance has around the base of the dildo, he wonders if you’ll pop it off of the floor on your next thrust.

“Oh, fuck…Frankie, wish you were here. Tell me—tell me what you’d do to me if you were here,” you beg, your hips still dragging at the new angle.

A groan escapes Frankie at your request, biting down hard on his lip and taking his hand away from his lap to deny himself the temptation.

“You love hearing me say all the dirty things to you, huh Conejita?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues, “If I were there with you, I’d would be—shit—I’d be devouring you right now. Fucking you with my tongue and my fingers, making you squeeze me and getting your come all over my face. Gotta get you ready for me, bunny. After, I’d flip you over. Get your pretty ass up for me, and I’d fuck you senseless. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Turn it all off up there and just let me take care of you…”

Nodding, your hips start to move faster as Frankie speaks to you. He doesn’t have the heart to tease you anymore, letting you start to take what you want for a bit. Your moans pitch up, tits bouncing with your nipples pebbled and the rest of your soft curves twisting as you rock back and forth on the toy.

“Yes, please. I want that,” you mewl, heavy breaths erratic.

“That’s right. My baby deserves it all,” he says with a sigh, his large palm squeezing his hard cock again, slowly unzipping his jeans and slipping his hand into his boxers to grip himself at the base. “I’d fuck you until that pretty little brain of yours was filled up only with thoughts of how good I make you feel. How good you are for me, pretty girl…Look at you go, bouncing on that toy. Rub your clit, Conejita. Slow, at least for right now.”

You follow his orders, supporting yourself on one arm. Slow circles against your clit have you shuddering with pleasure, a twitch of your tummy as you moan. Your eyes flutter shut, face twisting with overwhelming need. Frankie drinks in the sight, indulging himself in a few long strokes of his cock before he hears it.

“Daddy…” you breathe, near a whisper, but it’s audible to him. Lost in yourself, you don’t even notice you’ve let it slip until it comes again, “Oh my god, Daddy.”

The surprise of it shocks your eyes open, stuttering your hips as you narrow in on your screen. Frankie’s eyes grow dark, licking his lips as he holds in a loud moan. His fingers grip the base of his aching cock, holding off at the edge. So close to coming when he heard that word drip from your mouth like melted sugar.

He can tell you’re attempting to gauge his reaction, nervous settling in as you attempt to move on from it and continue fucking yourself closer to finishing. Frankie’s eager to take it in stride, clearing his throat before he gives it right back to you, opening that door that he knows won’t be shut any time soon. At least not by him.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Let Daddy tell you what you need, yeah?” He chuckles darkly, satisfaction thumping in his veins while you nod and whimper yes yes yes back to him, “Y’know, if you like that lil’ toy, baby, Daddy’s cock will feel even better. S’bigger than that fucking thing.”

“Oh, fuck, I need to—I need you, Daddy, please!”

“I know, Conejita, I know. Poor little thing jus’ needs Daddy to be filling her up, huh? You wanna know what my cock feels like inside of you, don’t you, pequeña?” He hisses with a buck of his hips into his fist, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second.

“Yes, yes, please, Daddy! Please,” you choke on a breath and Frankie can see you twitch at your inner thighs from the full-on view of your pussy, your tell-tale sign that you’re about to come.

“Y’know the rules, Conejita. Better ask before you come.”

“Please, please may I come?” you moan, rubbing faster circles against your clit and grinding down on your toy.

“Oh, bunny, you can ask nicer than that. May I come…?” he leads, smirking devilishly when you nearly squeal from the way he’s holding you out on the edge. Teetering on the verge of that high that he knows well, he can see your legs faltering with a cramp.

“Please may I come, Daddy?” Your eyes open, heavy-lidded and lips parted with shallow breathing. Frankie gets lost in the sight, wrecked from his direction, his words, a sheen of sweat over your skin and the arousal coating your thighs. A fucking dream.

“Mm, come for Daddy, baby girl—” he’s interrupt as you erupt in a high-pitched moan, mouth wide open as you string together mumblings Oh fuck, Daddy, feels so good. Need you so bad…

“Good girl.”

Frankie hums contently, chuckling as a dopey grin finds your face, blinking through the orgasmic haze. Laying back, you slip the toy out of your pussy, leaving it to wobble in place and spreading your legs around it. One arm comes to rest against your forehead, breasts rising and falling with deep, recovering breaths. He’s blocked of the view that would make this moment even sweeter, licking his lips before he speaks up.

“Lemme see that fucked cunt of yours, bunny. Let Daddy see what belongs to him.” You sit up again, popping the toy off of the floor and laying it to the side to be cleaned later. Frankie hums as you part your legs more, the glittering of your come dripping on your thighs and across your swollen pussy. “Eres un buen oyente, pequeña. (You’re a good listener, little one.)”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, a long exhale punctuating the question.

“You’re a good listener, little one.” Frankie grins when you grow shy, inching your legs together before he tsks again, one hand coming into frame to motion for your lower limbs to part again.

“Y’know, it would look even prettier with my come dripping out of ya, baby.”

“Please.”

“What, Conejita?”

“Don’t tease me anymore…Can’t take it, Daddy.” You lips push out in a pout, subtle but he can catch the change in expression.

“Nah uh, no pouting, bunny. Who said that I was teasing? I’m going to make it happen.”

Sweetness slips from your lips in a giggle, leaning over to pick up your phone and hold him closer to your face.

“So, if I was a good girl, doesn’t that mean I get to see what I asked for before?” Wiggling in eagerness, Frankie feigns ignorance, scratching at his beard as he shrugs, acting as if he didn’t nearly come in his pants multiple times in the last few minutes.

“I dunno, Conejita. What did you ask me for? Gonna have to remind me.”

“Your cock. I wanna see it.” Your pout sneaks back, biting your lip. “May I please see your cock, Daddy?”

“I think I could do that for you, baby. Asking so nicely. Such a good girl for Daddy, yeah?”

“Always.” A giggle bubbles up from your tummy, biting down on your lip as Frankie takes you in, shaking his head in subtle disbelief. How the hell did clicking for one subscription get him here, having Facetime sex with you?

He obliges your original requests, moving to prop his phone up in front of him, stripping down his jeans first. The sight of his bulge waters your mouth, pupils widening in want at the outline of his cock. No tricks of the light, no chance of manipulation like some men in your DMs do. All natural.

And Frankie wasn’t lying. He’s big.

The reveal comes when he tugs his boxers down to his ankles, settling in front of the camera again. His heavy length rests against his lower stomach, precum dripping into his dark happy trail. Your eyes drag over the veins ribbing him, leading down to show off that he’s tastefully groomed. Swallowing saliva, you lick your lips as his large hand wraps around, slow strokes that gently shift the foreskin away from his tip. The end of his cock glistens with pebbles of precum, red and aching. Frankie hisses at the contact, the veins in his neck straining against his skin while he starts to fuck his fist.

“You look so pretty, Daddy,” you compliment sweetly, grinning at him as he laughs quietly back at you.

“Such a sweet little bunny. You think you can take me in your tight little cunt?” A long exhales concaves his chest, quiet moans as his hand picks up pace.

You return his regular favor of talking him through it, detailing how good of a girl you’d be for him, telling him all that he would be allowed to do to you. The sounds Frankie makes has you dripping again, getting his permission to fuck your fingers, both of you driving each other to a peak, your second one taking the breath from your lungs as Frankie comes at the same time. Whimpers escape your mouth as you envy his hand and stomach being covered in his release, biting your tongue and crowding the screen as he shows off how much you made him come.

“Wish I was there to clean you up, Daddy.”

“Right back at you, Conejita.”

A few days later, Frankie calls you after one of your livestreams, grinning like a schoolboy when you answer in only your underwear. You laugh as you set your phone down on the surface of your dressing, his childish smirk turning to a pout as he stares at your white painted ceiling. Calling out to him, you ask for one second while you tug a sweatshirt over your head, shuffling around before grabbing the device and relaxing back on your bed, bunny in your lap.

“Hi, baby,” Frankie coos, one side of his mouth lifting in a smile as he drinks in your cozy, drowsy demeanor. Cuddling with the toy against your chest, you grin back at him, curling up onto your side like a cat.

“Hi, Frankie,” you mumble back, exhaustion heavy in your eyes.

“You sleepy, little bunny?” A slow nod answers his question. “Alright, I won’t keep you up for long then. Just had a question for you.”

The vague proposition piques your interest, your eyes shooting open and the camera being brought closer to your face, “What’s your question?”

Frankie works his lips between his teeth, nerves crackling over his entire body. Realistically, he knows you’ll say yes, but there’s still that chance for rejection in the moment. His left leg bounces against his couch, hand running over his face as he takes a deep breath in, “I was wondering if you’d wanna come visit me here in Florida? If you don’t have time—”

“I would love to come visit, Frankie,” you agree immediately, a sincere smile growing on your face. Frankie mirrors your excitement with a goofy grin, the creases next to his eyes deepening and his dimple cratoring his cheek. “I’ll even book my flight right now, that’s how eager I am.”

Shaking his head furiously, he clicks his tongue in a tut, scolding you playfully, “Hey, hey. No, none of that. I’m not letting my baby pay, I’m the one who asked you to come.”

“But—”

“Nope, no buts. Except yours getting onto a plane and coming to see me,” Frankie laughs at his own joke, earning a playful eye roll as you hold back your own chuckle. “Oh, c’mon, that was funny, Conejita. I can tell you want to laugh.”

The two of you go back and forth while he books your flight on his laptop, showing off the confirmation number once it’s all gone through. Both of you wear shit-eating grins on your faces, sitting in disbelief.

Frankie can’t help the rush of anxiety, unable to tell if it’s solely from his excitement. All he can think about is having you in front of him, in the flesh, in person. No screens between the two of you, no broken signals or shitty wifi interruptions. Hearing your voice without the strain of speakers, getting to touch you, taste you, hear you, feel you all over him. There’s the flash of a vision of you laid out underneath him, making your little sounds that drive him crazy and digging your nails into his back…

“Gonna let Daddy spoil you while you’re down here, baby girl?” Frankie smirks as you stretch sleepily, biting down on your lip.

“You’re flying me out, isn’t that spoiling me enough? Shouldn’t it be my turn to spoil you then?”

“Think you know the answer to that, baby. Having you in front of me is spoiling me enough, I jus’ wanna take care of you.”

The simple statement brings a smile to your face, shyly tucking your face into your pillow. The rest of the call relaxes you back to near sleep, listening as Frankie tells you all about what he’ll take you to do. Your drowsiness catches up with you, drifting off on the phone. Frankie chuckles quietly to himself, sitting with you for a moment silently before he goes to hang up.

“Night, Conejita. Can’t wait to see you.”

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#triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x f!reader #tieronecrush

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gosmigenergy · 2 months

Text

Making space for this look to live rent free in my mind ✨

PEDRO PASCAL 30th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards (February 24, 2024)

#pedro pascal #it's going right next to oscar isaac's fear of god shoot #these men have ruined me this week #pedrohub

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gosmigenergy · 2 months

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JUST DESSERTS

( Triple Frontier Boys x F!Reader )

Summary: Frankie and Santiago decide to host a Valentine’s dinner however you’re already a little suspicious of what they have planned.

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, swearing, minor angst because Santiago’s an idiot, sex pollen, group sex, oral - female receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), cream pie, voyeurism, choking, nipple play, oral - male receiving, hair pulling, spit roasting, gagging, squirting, allusions of masturbation (male), fluffy ending, nickname/pet names, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 8.4k

Author's Notes: Just for a little context, here's the fic this one's related to.

You had spent all afternoon watching from a distance.

Frankie preferred you to be out of the kitchen when he was prepping a three course meal for multiple people, saying you were too much of a distraction. Reluctantly, you stayed out of his way and tried to keep yourself busy.

You heard his hushed profanity.

“You ok, babe?”

He was stuffing his phone into his pocket when you approached.

“I forgot an ingredient.”

Your head cocks to one side, brows furrowing. It was unusual, he was so methodical when it came to cooking, he’d never forgotten an ingredient since you’d started dating. Maybe it was Valentine’s Day nerves or because he was in someone else’s kitchen, you had to ask him why they chose Will’s place.

“I can go get it for you.”

“It’s ok, I’ve already messaged Pope.”

The pair of them had planned this evening together because you couldn’t quite book a table for five at a fancy restaurant on the day of love without being questioned. Not to mention the extortionate price rises, the candle lit table where you can barely see and the knowledge you would sit throughout dinner with four sets of eyes on you, all wanting the same thing.

“Soooo,” you bite your lip, “what do you want to do now?”

Leaning back, he folded his arms, eyes trailing you from head to toe. A shiver shot up your spine as his stare hung low, his tongue flicking over his lips and Frankie knew he had just enough time to do what he wanted to do.

When Santiago knocked on the door, it took a few minutes to get an answer.

He was just about to knock again when it swung open and revealed you, flustered and glancing down, he noticed your lack of pants. His one eyebrow quirked and a slight smirk came to his lips.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Frankie entered the living room. “I made sure she finished.”

The temperature in your cheeks rose to scorching, in all of your dating history, you’d never been caught and of course, it has to be Santiago who catches you after a thorough fingering. He’s fucking delighted.

You walk away from him before he can utter a word.

“He wouldn’t let me answer the door until I came,” you say, taking your shorts from Frankie.

“Gotta make sure you’re satisfied.”

A hand snakes around your back and he pulls you closer, squeezing the plumpness of your ass. You cup his whiskered jaw and place a kiss on his cheek before kissing him lightly on the lips, his fingers burying further.

“I’m just gonna clean up.”

“You’re welcome to stay like that,” Santiago chips in.

“I thought you were helping Frankie in the kitchen.”

You saunter away, purposefully not putting on your shorts just to rub it in his face a little.

“I hate you,” he turns to Frankie.

Frankie blinks at him, “You got the stuff.”

The pair of them go into the kitchen, ensuring they’re out of the way from prying eyes and Santiago pulls a tiny brown bag out of his pocket. Frankie snatched it from his hand and eased out the bottle, it looked like any other baking ingredient in a pipet bottle except it was fluorescent pink in colour.

“I still think we should tell her,” he said, bringing it closer for inspection.

“She’ll be fine.”

Frankie went to the fridge and brought the rest of the ingredients to the counter top.

“Ruby chocolate?”

“It’s fruity and should conceal the colour of that stuff.”

Santiago patted his friend on the back, “I knew I could trust you.”

Once you’d finished in the shower, you went to check on the pair of them in the kitchen. Santiago wasn’t being much help, merely standing there and talking whilst Frankie gently folded a pink concoction in a bowl. As you stepped closer, you caught the chocolate wrapper and knew you had to sneak a taste, slipping past Santiago.

Frankie clocked the single finger approaching and slapped your hand hard.

“Ow!”

He immediately put everything down and wrapped himself around you.

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’ve only made enough mousse for the five of us, no samples.”

You look up at him, your pouted lip beginning to quiver, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. It actually really fucking hurt but only Frankie knows why he had such a reaction and Santiago probably, you could only assume.

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it better.

“There’s some chocolate spare in the fridge,” he glanced at Santiago as he spoke.

Santiago headed to the fridge and back, handing you the other unopened bar before boosting you onto the countertop next to where Frankie was working. You eased the paper packaging apart at the top and cracked the first line, breaking a square off.

“You got any questions about tonight?”

Santiago leaned in, opening his mouth slightly and you fed him the piece of chocolate in your hand.

There was only one question you could think of.

—

“Why are they hosting it at your place?” Benny asked his brother.

“Because I’ve got a big enough dining table.”

In all honesty, Will didn’t know if that was their reasoning, he was confused when they asked him too.

“They could have hosted it here.”

“With what table?”

Benny shrugged, “I could have got something.”

His brother was still living like a bachelor, no table just two stools on a breakfast bar, no spare bedroom or fold out couch, he shook his head. When Frankie arrived at his place with bags of ingredients, Will saw it best to get out of the way and offered to come and get Benny, who was trying to figure out what to wear.

“Don’t you have a dress shirt?”

Will watched on as Benny rifled through his wardrobe.

“Do I look like I would have a dress shirt? The moment I stopped doing parades, I got rid of ‘em.”

He would have offered him one if it wasn’t for the fact Benny’s lean physique would be swamped by his. There was already a pile of rejections on the floor including the one denim shirt he owned and the one that Benny had named his good hoodie.

“Who’s idea was it to dress up anyway?”

“Who do you think?”

“Ah, the man with a thousand black shirts.”

Will laughed, “Even Fish has a nice shirt, brother.”

“The coke one?”

Will folded his arms, brows knotting. Benny looked innocently over his shoulder, throwing his hands out.

“You know which one I mean.”

Narrowing his eyes, Will notices the stuffed shelves to the side of his brother and can make out two green sweaters amongst all the greys and blues.

“What about the green sweaters?”

Benny stepped to the side and pulled them out.

“Bunny likes this one.”

He held it up the forest green one and Will was about to say it would pass until he turned it round.

“Is that a cartoon character?”

Benny scowled at him, “It’s a video game character.”

“You never fail to surprise me,” Will pinched the bridge of his nose, “and the other one?”

Tossing another rejection to one side, Benny unfolded the other one, a lightweight knit with a v-neck and emerald green in colour. He’s pretty sure this was one his mother gave him, he wore it once or twice to please her and then pretended he’d lost it over Thanksgiving. He just hated wearing anything other than gym wear, jeans and a t-shirt.

Will was going to have to take him shopping.

“That’ll do.”

—

You’d finished getting ready just as the sound of keys entering the door. Tottering over, you grabbed the door handle and opened it before Will had chance to get it himself.

“You look as lovely as ever, Bunny.”

You brush the front of your pink and purple slip dress, turning round to show him the back, you’d even wore kitten heels for the occasion.

He hands you a bag whilst he takes another, “The Prosecco you like was on offer.”

“Oh, thank you,” you kiss his cheek and leave a mark.

Benny bashfully came in after his brother.

“Aw, Benny, that sweater brings out the colour of your eyes.”

His cheeks turned pink, this was the first time you’d seen him relatively dressed up.

“I told him that but he wasn’t impressed,” Will called from behind you.

You take his sweater by both hands and pull his body to yours, crashing your lips to his. Instinctively, he brings an arm to your waist to stop you from falling backwards as your frame arches.

“Thanks for dressing up for me,” you say after parting your lips, “I know you hate it.”

“If that’s the reaction I get, I might do it more often.”

A pop of a cork filled the room and Frankie was the first to complain.

“Christ, you could have given me a warning,” he said, the food he was tentatively placing on a finely toasted slice of bread now sprayed across the plate.

Santiago came out of the dining room to see what all the fuss was about and then ushered the three of you away from Frankie. He sat you at the top of the table with the Miller brothers either side before he switched on some background music and left to help Frankie serve.

“Can we have more light?”

“Honey, this is meant to be romantic.”

You hum, “Would be nice to see everyone’s faces.”

You had resisted saying anything for two courses, it only seemed right to see them for dessert. Frankie pulled out all the stops on food, to start was freshly made Bruschetta then he followed it with the first ever meal he cooked for you, steak with dauphinoise potatoes and greens. With everyone’s plates clear, he went to dish up dessert.

Santiago grumbled and turned the dial up a little, bringing a warm glow into the room.

“That’s better,” you smile even as he stares you down.

Frankie comes in with the first two plates, placing one in front of you. The pink mousse he was creating earlier was delivered with a handful of berries on the side.

“I’ve waited all afternoon to try this!”

You waited, fidgeting for the rest of the boys to get theirs with a spoon in your hand. The moment Frankie put his ass in his seat, you took the biggest portion you could.

“This is so good,” Benny said, continuing to stuff the mousse into his mouth.

It was good, you weren’t going to deny that. It was velvety smooth, the ruby chocolate adding a touch of fruitiness along with the berries but there was something else. You began to eat slowly, eyebrows knotted as you tried to decipher what it was.

Everyone kept eating before Will spoke up, scraping the last of it from his ramekin bowl.

“What was that floral flavour?”

That wasn’t quite it but you knew he was close.

“Special ingredient,” Santiago responded quickly.

Frankie sighed, “We’re gonna have to tell them eventually.”

“Tell us what?”

Benny was using his finger to scoop out what remnants he could, eyes flitting from Santiago to Frankie.

“Sooo, it’s not rose?”

Will’s query suddenly makes you feel queasy, unable to eat the last couple of spoonfuls so you place your cutlery down.

Santiago clocks it.

“No,” he says, folding his arms. “It’s Aphrodite’s Essence.”

Will looks at Santiago and Frankie before his brother, who sheepishly avoids eye contact.

A swell builds in your chest, the name is all too familiar and you don’t know whether to scream or cry or both. Instead, you bundle the cotton napkin from your lap in your hand and throw back your chair.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Santiago.”

You launch the napkin, hitting him square in the face as you flee from the room.

He calls your name but you ignore him, already bolting for the bedroom, swinging the door heavily. The slam echoes through the hall and Santiago goes to get up. Will gestures a hand for him to stop and he follows the order like any good soldier would.

“Give her a few minutes,” his eyes glanced to everyone again. “And you can tell me what the fuck is going on.

—

Santiago was hesitant to go in, he didn’t quite know what was behind the door. The four of them had talked it out, Will was pissed with every single one of them for a fleeting moment. Benny and Santiago almost ended up in a shouting match whilst Frankie remained quiet until he decided to step in and shut them up.

“Sure you don’t want to do this?”

He looked over his shoulder at Will who shook his head, he was always shaking his head at one of them.

“It’s gotta be you, man.”

His friend was right, Santiago just hated it.

Taking a breath, he rapped the door but you didn’t respond. He takes it as a good sign and squeezes past the threshold as he opens the door enough to fit through.

“Hey.”

You’re sat up, back against the headboard of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around the teddy Will won you. In the darkness, he could just about make out your teary eyes and he switched on the nearest the nearest lamp to give off some light.

You sniff, “Hey.”

He sits at your feet and you move them back.

“Honey, I’m sorry.”

“The last time we saw each other, you wanted to slow down on all of this shit then you go and —“

You lose your words, you’re so mad at him.

“I know, it’s bad timing on my part.”

You look away, pushing your cheek into the soft fabric underneath.

This wasn’t bad timing, he’d made an idiotic decision to get revenge on Benny and thrown everyone else into the mix with them.

“You remember how scary it was for me, I thought I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t, Fish and I made sure of that.”

“It doesn’t mean I want to go through it again.”

“It’s about ten percent of what you had last time, fifteen tops. We added a little extra just to make sure it works.”

“Couldn’t you have just laced Benny’s?”

“Would you want to be around Benny with that stuff in his system and without any in yours?”

“No,” you hugged the teddy closer. “You could have made him go it alone.”

“I’m mean but I’m not that mean.”

“You could have warned me,” your voice was timid.

He rested a hand on your foot, his thumb stroking your ankle. You were right, Frankie was right but he wouldn’t admit he was wrong.

“Would you have eaten it if you knew?”

You breathe in, the stutter in your chest that you only get from crying. Dropping a hand, you hold onto his thumb, eyes returning to him.

“I guess not.”

He hummed, he guessed as such.

“We’ve got to make sure we all have a level playing field,” he handed you the last of your dessert. “I had to fight Benny before he had the rest.”

Your smile peeks from behind the green dome head and you let go of his thumb, taking the dish. You eat the final spoonfuls and hand it back.

“How long till it kicks in?”

“Somewhere between thirty minutes to an hour.”

“So I have time to fix my makeup?”

He double checks his watch, “Plenty.”

Santiago continued to draw circles on your ankle, listening to your breathing as it steadied into its usual pace.

“Am I forgiven?”

“We’ll see how the night goes.”

He slips off the bed and onto his feet, leaning forward to brush his nose against the crown of your head.

“We’ve got you,” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You wait until he leaves the room to sort yourself out. In the bright light of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of how messy you looked, mostly from the mascara trailing down your cheeks like rainfall. Wiping it away, you reapply everything and fix your hair, rearranging your tits under your dress.

“Need any help?”

After hearing the hive of activity in the kitchen, you popped your head through to the dining room.

“All good, sweetheart.”

Will was alone, carefully stacking dinnerware and blowing out candles. You step further in, playing with your hands.

“I kind of ruined dinner, didn’t I?"

“Hardly.”

Santiago ruined dinner, you merely reacted how most people would having found out their food had been laced. He was surprised he’d taken it so well himself.

You hovered nervously, waiting for his attention.

Leaving the plates on the table, he wanders over to you and coils an arm around your frame, pulling you close. His touch is hotter than usual, palm scorching through the slip dress you wore and you try to figure out how long you’d been gone from the room.

“Can I fix you a drink?”

You smile, “Please.”

He took everything in his hands and told you to head to the lounge. Following him, you part ways and you perch on the couch.

You recognised the similarities of last time beginning to trickle through your system. The elevation in your heartbeat, the rise of temperature in your skin that felt as though you were basking in the afternoon sun. It felt like your lips were getting plumper, your eyes growing bigger, the colours of the room becoming vibrant.

“Benny’s insisting whatever this is isn’t working,” Will chuckled. “Fish is fighting with him to not put a couple more drops straight into his mouth.”

“And what do you think?”

You take the glass from his hand and scoot to the side to allow him space next to you. Taking a sip, every bubble pops along your tastebuds, the flavour sinking in deep.

He shrugs, “I don’t know, what am I supposed to be looking for?”

Leaning back, his eyes roam over your body, noticing how you seem to be glowing. Each inch of bare skin he looks at tingles and you wonder if this is how it starts when you take a normal dose. He stretches his hand, fingertips skimming over your shoulder blades and the shiver travels down your spine, pulsating in your pussy. Something travels from you to him, electricity shooting up his arm and his face turns serious.

“On the table.”

You cock your head to the side, “The coffee table?”

“Front on the coffee table, ass facing me.”

“You sure?”

His one eyebrow arches and he folds his arms, tipping his head towards the table quickly.

You swallow, mouth drying as you listen to his instruction. Slipping effortlessly off the couch, you crawl to the coffee table and move a few items out of the way before you drape onto the cold glass top. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his glazed stare, Aphrodite’s Essence soaking into every fibre of his being.

You knew you were in trouble when his hands reached for his belt.

Your desire was already pooling, the nice underwear set you wore an afterthought as you leaned to show your ass to him.

Will glanced to where the other guys were talking before lifting himself up and dropping to his knees. He tapped your ankles and you spread yourself wider. Grabbing the hem of your dress, he lifted it over the curve of your ass, displaying the dark patch already present on your knickers.

“You shouldn’t have worried about the underwear.”

You frown, looking further over your shoulder.

“Didn’t expect to already be this turned on, thought you would like them.”

“Any other night I would.”

You gasp as he cups a hand over your pussy, pushing against your mound and forcing the bottom half into your wet folds. Whining, you lean to his touch, back bowing. The noises you make cause his cock to harden, already straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck,” he growls, hungrily yanking down your knickers.

He parts your ass cheeks to gaze upon your glistening folds, arousal weeping from your entrance. You breath shudders in anticipation as you break eye contact and face the dark television screen.

You watch as he stares longingly before shuffling back and lowering himself, his broad shoulders visible either side.

He flattens his tongue to your folds and licks up slowly. The mewl you gift him is intoxicating, how your body shakes only sweetening it. Your juices already dribble onto his chin, every moan he gives scattering through your nerves.

Unlike last time, the sensation isn’t as intense, instead it softly spreads a warmth through your body, like the tingle you get from coming in from the cold.

Will continued to eat your pussy, tongue slipping between your lips and teasing your inner walls. Then he tilted his head back and moved forward, mouth locking around your clit. It came alive, your legs threatening to lock if he hadn’t forced you to widen, hands gripping harder.

The sweat was arriving to his forehead, his head cloudy as you engulfed him.

You try to hold onto the table top, clammy palms slipping on the glass as you stretch your fingertips in front. Yet, he fights you, continuously pulling you back until you managed to break free.

“Where are you going, Bunny?”

Turning your upper half, you see his dishevelled appearance, messy blond hair and bright red cheeks.

“Nowhere,” you bat your eyelashes, tongue flicking to dampen your lips.

A smile grows on his face, “Good.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, chest heaving as he scrambled to get the fabric from his skin. Standing up, he stripped down to nothing, eyes not moving from you.

Everyone else remained in the kitchen, talking, unaware of the situation enfolding on the opposite side of the wall.

Kneeling down, Will kissed your lips and brought his weight down on you, pining you to the table top. His hardened cock pushed into the valley of your ass, nestling sweetly between your cheeks. You moan, inviting him to shove his tongue into your mouth and meet your own.

His hands trail up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he carried on up your body and over your stomach, hitching your dress higher.

Sinking his teeth into your bottom lip, he tugs gently before releasing it and nuzzling into your neck. His whiskers scratch your skin as he suckles and the essence in your system screams desperately to be covered head to toe in his marks.

You nudge your ass into him, grinding against his stiff length as your want becomes too much.

Groaning, he snakes a hand between the pair of you and takes hold of his cock. He brushes the tip over your asshole, causing you to shiver before he gathers the juices pooling at your opening.

You have little time to prepare yourself as Will ploughs through your folds and fills you to the hilt. It took the air from your lungs, your arms slipping on the smooth material beneath you. He brings his hands to your shoulders, chest firmly set on your back as he squeezes you, pressing you firmly to the base of his cock.

He waits to see your fingers grip the edge of the coffee table, knuckles almost turning white before he pulls easily through your slick and slams into you again and again. Each one of his overwhelmed senses was only able to focus on you. The final hint of your perfume as the aroma of each other’s sweat hit his nostrils, your frantic cries as you begged for more, your wrecked appearance reflected in the tv.

In the stifling heat of your bodies, you could only think of his cock.

How it glided and buried itself within your walls which pulsed as they attempted to take hold of his length, how every stroke hit the multiplying number of sweet spots in your weeping cunt. It was becoming almost unbearable, you just needed to cum.

“Will,” there was a sense of urgency in your tone.

His breath burns your neck, “I promise I’m close.”

You whine, toes curling as the desire is fit to burst in your belly.

He let go of one shoulder and brought his arm just below your neck, holding you to his chest. His other hand moves downwards, stroking your side with a featherlight touch that has your body vibrating in anticipation. Tucking it underneath, he pulls back the hood of your clit before pressing a fingertip to the bundle of nerves.

His arm locks around your neck as you begin to squirm.

Words fail you, nothing coming out of your mouth but tiny squeaks and the sound of you choking to get air into your lungs. Your eyes are shut tight, the inside of your lids decorated with pinpricks of white and pink.

He takes a few more thrusts until he can no longer force his way through your closing walls. He holds you as close as he can as you stop fighting and your hands cling onto his arm, the orgasm surging through you. Your pussy throbs until you milk him dry, his rasp hot in your ear as your bodies mould into one.

When you catch your breath, the adrenaline pumping through your veins approaches your chest and dispels into giggling.

“Shiiit…”

The laughter was contagious, Will’s chest rumbling against your back before he lifted himself from you. His cock draws out of you as he rests onto his heels and he watches you push his thick white cum from your opening, the audible churn as it dribbled out.

“Is this what happened last time?”

“Sort of,” you look over your shoulder, “except this is much more fun.”

His still stiff length twitched at your words and his cheeks went even redder.

“I’m gonna get some water, want anything?”

You pick yourself up, legs shaking and your dress falls over your frame covering the evidence, if you ignored that he was completely nude.

“I’m good,” you say, closing the space between you.

Leaning in, you kiss him, the flavour of your juices soaking into your lips. When he pulls away, he winks and retreats to the kitchen.

Inside the others had carried on talking, Santiago on drying duties whilst Benny cleaned. Frankie clocked him first, eyes darting over Will’s post sex image and he stepped aside to allow him entry to the sink. Will grabbed whatever glass he could and knocked his brother out of the way, immediately switching on the tap.

“What the fuck?” Benny couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Santiago leaned against the counter top and admired the view as Will chugged before going in for another.

“You ok?”

“Fucking fantastic, brother,” Will smiled at Santiago.

“See, Benny, it is working.”

Benny rolled his eyes, “My brother’s hard on is not proof that it’s working.”

Santiago didn’t know what other proof he could give, he shrugged, opening up his hands in disbelief.

“Will’s got a hard on, I’ve got a hard on and Fish—”

Abruptly, he stopped talking when he realised Frankie wasn’t even in the room any more. He ran his hand over his mouth, fingers tugging gently on his bottom lip as he thought about his next move.

“Come on,” he strode to the door.

Benny threw the sponge into the sink and followed him, Will stayed put, downing water to rehydrate himself. In the lounge, the other two were greeted by a euphoric sight.

Frankie had already made himself comfortable with his shirt unbuttoned, jeans and underwear pulled down his thighs and sat on the one armchair. You were sat on his lap, legs tucked either side of his as you sat with your ass to him, now fully naked. Slowly, you lifted yourself up and down his shaft, sweet and delicate grunts falling from your lips.

One of his broad hands was on your hip, fingers deep into the flesh as he guided you gently, the other at your neck, shaping your back into a perfectly formed arch. You tilted your head to look at him, eyelids heavy as the cock drunkenness begins to set in and his blown eyes reflect back at you.

“Looks like we have an audience,” he drawls.

Your eyes break away from his so you can catch a glimpse at who’s watching, through the fog of the essence you can tell it’s Benny and Santiago. A sharp sting comes across an ass cheek and you yelp, attention returning to Frankie.

“Feeling it?”

Benny took the question as rhetorical, of course he was feeling it now. His cock grew in a matter of seconds, the bulge visibly drawing the tension in his pants and Santiago tried not to look at it.

Instead, he starts to unbutton his shirt, walking towards you and Frankie hungrily. He places a single finger on your knee and follows your form, a delicate touch over every curve before he takes his thumb and squeezes your nipple.

You bite your lip to stop the moan from coming, a slight stutter in the movements of your hips.

Santiago steps forward and looks down on you, beads of sweat on your hairline and flushed cheeks - god he loved you like this.

“How’s it going, Bunny?”

You gasp for air, “Good.”

His head tilts to one side, eyes flicking to Frankie.

“Just good? I’m sure Francisco and Will are better than that.”

Frankie’s fingers constricted around your neck causing your inner walls to pulse, more juices to flow down his length.

“They are,” you plead with them. “They’re so fucking good.”

Santiago could forgive you, words never came easily when you were overstimulated. Your hips had stopped moving and you sat heavily on Frankie’s length, your hand wrapping around his wrist as he loosened his hold on your neck.

He looked at his friend, “Can I join you?”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the way their eyes met.

Frankie removed his hands from you and you straightened you back, eyes following Santiago as he repositioned himself in front of the pair of you. Your hips had begun rolling of their own accord, only widening Santiago’s smile as Frankie hissed.

He roughly snatched your hands in response, bringing them together behind your back before he placed one of his in between your shoulder blades and eased you forward. You watched, saliva building as Santiago unbuckled his belt, slipping it swiftly from the loops. There are so many ways he could use it yet it gets tossed to the side along with his shirt and pants.

He picks your chin up, “Don’t look so disappointed.”

How could you be disappointed?

Frankie takes your ass in his hand, pushing to encourage you to start riding him. You’re slow at first, trying not to go hell for leather like the essence wanted, and at this angle, you can’t see him just hear how he purrs.

Santiago holds two fingers in front your face and you part your lips, running your tongue along the underneath as he slipped them in. You rolled your tongue around them before he pulled them out, a string of spit hanging briefly between the both of you. Licking your lip, you open your mouth wide enough for his stiff length and girth.

Tipping your head, you stick out your tongue and lick the precum from his radiating tip, the sharpness hitting your tastebuds. He sighs, cupping your jaw and drags you along his cock, stepping forward to graze the back of your throat.

“That’s it.”

His hands drop to his side as he allows you to the control.

You bounce on Frankie’s lap and swallow Santiago in tandem, moaning at the sensation of being full but also the fire in your muscles from being trapped in this position. After a few minutes, Frankie meets your hips with a thrust and you gag on Santiago’s cock as it twitches.

“You alright, cariño?”

You give a muffled response.

Looking up bleary eyed, Santiago’s one eyebrow arches as he double checks on you. You flutter your eyelashes when he brushes the hair from your face and tucks the strands behind your ear. His hand hovers before he runs his fingers into your roots and takes a fistful, the prickling travelling down your neck and shooting down your spine.

He begins to bob your head for you, the tip of your nose tickled by the hairs that line the base of his cock.

Benny had to get out of his clothes.

He scrambled to remove his sweater before freeing his cock from it’s prison. Dropping to the couch with a groan, his length swung towards his navel, this must be what it’s like when someone stumbles across one of his videos.

Every sound the three of you make floods the room, the smell of sweat as the heat builds and can no longer fight the overwhelming urge to wrap his hand around his throbbing shaft. He flinch, his cock so sensitive it’s like he was stupid enough to touch fire. Pushing through it, his jaw locked as he clench his jaw and cautious spread the bead of precum over his head.

Santiago heard movement and track Benny as if he had eyes at the back of his head. He adjusted his stance to let him see you, your features enhanced even from the distance. The glistening of your spit over your lips and round your mouth as you sucked Santiago’s cock, the wave in your throat as he moves in and out, the peaks of your tits wobbling every stroke Frankie took.

The rest of the world blurred around the edges.

Frankie could feel his legs seizing, the knot in his stomach tautening, he wasn’t going to last much longer. He was dizzy from the high, different to the one used to gain from drugs, if he didn’t cum soon he was going to black out.

“We’re gonna need to hurry this up.”

Santiago gave him a singular nod.

Frankie let go of your wrists and tucked them just above your elbows before lifting himself from the armchair. Santiago kept you steady as he moved back and you almost didn’t notice you’d changed position until Frankie snapped his hips, plunging deeply into a new spot.

The vibrations of your groan sent shockwaves through Santiago.

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth.

He brought another hand to the back of your head, strategically placed in a way to not obstruct Benny’s view. He helped you take him smoothly as Frankie slammed into you again and again, making you see stars.

“You’re being such a good girl for us, stay with me.”

This was the first time Santiago had seen you go crossed eyed, your tongue so loose you were drooling down your chin, each choked huff sugary sweet.

Frankie could feel the essence pumping through his veins, his crotch was burning as his desire increased until he balls were full enough to explode. His final thrust forced you into Santiago’s stomach and he held you there as his seed coated your walls before your whole body trembled.

When Santiago came, he spilled his load deep into your throat until you swallowed every last drop. The orgasm carried on, your muscles spasming to the point where you pushed Frankie’s cock from your pussy. Your juices flowed after and in the pink coated darkness you could hear Santiago singing his praises, pulling his shaft from your mouth.

Your arms are still held strong by Frankie who worried you were about to collapse before the room came back into view. Santiago was crouch in front of you, rubbing your cheeks until you stopped seeing double.

“I thought it wasn’t meant to be this intense.”

He shook his head, “I dunno, honey, maybe it’s to do with the hormones.”

You were surprised he understood you, your tongue going numb.

Frankie coiled an arm around your chest and straightens you up, holding you close until you stop feeling floppy. However the goosebumps arrive on your skin as you can still feel a set of eyes drilling into you and your eyes finally drift to Benny.

He’s still sat down, his hand firmly clutched around his cock.

Frankie kisses you on your temple before he unravels you, allowing you to approach Benny, who’s hand relaxes. You pierce your lips together, your head dropping to one side as you inspect his length. Your fingertips skim the back of his hand that had settled onto the arm of the couch and his stern expression melts away.

“Need a hand?”

He shuffles forward, head falling back so he can gaze upon your beauty.

“You could use a break…”

Your heart sinks.

“So hold onto my shoulders,” he stands as he speaks, crowding you, “and I’ll do the rest.”

Curiosity paints your face as you look up at him doe-eyed. He raises his eyebrows before he moves quickly, hooking his arms under your ass and lifting you off the floor. You scream, instincts kicking in as your arms winding round his neck and legs opening to wrap around his waist. Burying your head in your arms, he feels how tense you are, muscles shaking in your effort to hold on.

He chuckles when he feels your nails dig into his back.

“Relax, I got you.”

You lift your head up, leaning back to be greeted with beaming face. Your arms loosen up, your spreading hands sending a hot flash down his spine causing his cock to twitch. He repositions his hands to hold more firmly onto the meat of your ass, lining up with your opening. As your legs relax, he slowly sinks you down, cock entering your spent pussy with ease.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, eyes peeking to watch as his shaft disappeared.

Your inner walls pulsed as he dropped you inch by inch. The base of his spine was on fire, reaching over his hips, burning in his groin and he swore he could shot his load in you there and then.

When he filled you to the hilt, he let you become accustom to the angle and waited until you focused on him. Your chest was picking up speed as your heart rate quickened and skipped, the adrenaline of pleasure entering every end of your body. The flush was returning back to your cheeks, pearls of sweat on your décolletage as he watched.

“Just remember what I told you,” he says when your eyes finally meet.

He dragged his cock as you whine from the loss before he thrust back in, gradually increasing the speed.

Frankie tuts, “Show off.”

Santiago smiled, if his knees didn’t hate him, he would have taken you like this at some point. The training Benny did as well as his physique in general, helped him without the need for wall support though it wasn’t going to last.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Benny.

His furrowed brows as his head hung low, infatuated with how you were taking him, how more juices seemed to flow with every penetration. His dirty blonde locks fell in front of his face, the centre of his chest gaining a sweaty dew, his huffs a rumble against the thunderous claps of each other’s skin.

The tip of his cock nudge at the same soft spot every time, turning your legs to jelly.

“Benny, Benny, please,” you beg.

“Almost there, Bunny.”

His hips were moving as fast as they could, his grasp sinking deeper into your ass yet he could feel you going limp. When he craned his neck, your fingers were slipping to his neck, upper body slopping away from him. Suddenly, he was seeing everything in slow motion, the ripple that travelled through your curves every time he rocked his hips, your tits bouncing. Your head was thrown back, mouth slack as you tried to gain air in your lungs.

Every part of him began to stiffen from his neck towards his chest and abdominals, from his feet to his legs. His movements got sloppy before his ass clenched and the desire he held within dispersed, surging through his veins. The last thing he could do was move a hand to your back and shove your chest to his.

He grunted animalistically, hips jerking as he pumped you full of his cum.

You shuddered as another orgasm washes comes yet there’s no sound from your lips, that underwater sensation washing over you. All you can hear is Benny’s pounding chest, the ragged breaths he releases when finishes.

There’s a wobble as he staggers backwards before collapsing on the couch. He settles, twisting your head to one side to give you fresh air, the hand on your back rubbing soothingly. Another one of the boys approaches, you can’t tell who, and you listen to Benny drink hurriedly.

You don’t know how much time passed until you could lift your head.

“Thought we’d lost you.”

In your cock drunk state, you managed to focus on him admiring you. He brings a hand to your cheek, a thumb trailing over the hot skin and you tilt your head to deepen the touch.

“You’re gonna need this.”

Will crotched down next to you two, placing a hand on your shoulder. You lift your head, sluggishly moving the rest of your body and using Benny to push yourself up with your hands.

Looking to Will, he holds out an entirely full water bottle and winks before you take it off him. He clears the hair from your face as you tip your head back, chugging as the Millers keep their eyes firmly on you. You remove the bottle from your lips and take some big inhales before you can eventually speak.

“You two ok?”

Frankie and Santiago were staring dumbfounded until you snapped them out of it. The tips of Frankie’s ears went bright red and his eyes took a sideward glance to Santiago.

“All fucking good, Bunny.”

You knew Santiago was teasing you except you couldn’t care less.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s take you to bed.”

You move your legs first, setting your feet on the floor, then you press your palms deeper into Benny’s defined abs to lift yourself. Both of you groan as you raise yourself from his cock which landed heavily to his navel.

All of the boys were still hard and the desire already ignited again.

“Everyone’s coming, right?”

Will took your hand, “Do you really need to ask?”

You walked across the room, glancing over your shoulder when you notice Benny isn’t following, his body solidified to the couch.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Getting tired, Ben?”

He hated being called Ben and out of all of them, he knew he could last longer than Santiago. Flicking his middle finger, you left him to take a break, sharing one more fleeting glance to see him smiling as you stepped out of view.

—

Waking up in the middle of the night, you found yourself in between of Benny and Santiago, the three of you in the guest room. Both were out cold, their rising chests slow as they breathed softly, tangled in the sheets.

You wiggle from under the covers and crawl over the bed without disturbing them… or so you thought.

“Where are you going, honey?”

Santiago stirs, rolling onto his back, you can both just about see each other’s faces.

“I’m going to check on Frankie and Will.”

“They’ll be fine.”

You fold your arms and huff, “I’m still mad with you, remember.”

There was a pause.

“How could I forget.”

He turned over, shuffling closer to Benny.

Opening the door, you slip out and tiptoe down the hall before gently entering Will’s bedroom. It doesn’t take much to wake him, the dip in the mattress caused him to lift his head.

“Coming in with us?”

You hum and he tosses his side of the duvet aside for you to get in. Tucking yourself to Frankie, you draw your arms in and press your forehead to his back. He mumbles something incoherently and you sigh, a quiet smile coming to your lips.

Will pulls the covers over you and himself before coming near, his warm palm spreading across your stomach as he snuggled you.

In the morning, both sides of the bed were empty. You blink, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light streaming through a single slither in the curtains. Taking your time, you gradually haul yourself out of bed and stagger around the room to find something to wear. You pull on one of Will’s t-shirts and venture down the hall.

The house was alive, the smell of pancake batter frying in butter, the sound of chatter and laughter. You thought you may just be able to slip into the kitchen with them, nick a piece of incredible crispy bacon that would be on the griddle pan whilst one of them tried to pass you a drink.

Santiago’s spider-senses were tingling.

Suddenly he appeared in the hallway, holding two mugs in his hands. You freeze before he juts his chin towards the office and you go where you’re told. He follows behind and you shut the door behind him, placing the mugs down on the dark wood desk.

“What have I got to do for you to forgive me?”

He asked as soon as the mechanism of the handle clicked.

“Morning, Santi,” you say, not turning round.

“Morning, honey,” the words rush out. “So?”

You sigh, stepping forward whilst you hugged your frame.

“You’re forgiven.”

“Since when?”

“Since you managed to get five orgasms out of me.”

He’s lucky last night actually went so well.

Santiago wanted to correct you, tell you it was actually six but this was not the time to for bragging rights.

“Then what have I got to do for you not to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

He swore under his breath, in his second language so you couldn’t understand or maybe you could, he didn’t know by this point. Your attitude told a different story, you were closing yourself off to him, that constant soft smile of yours no longer there. He bites his tongue, not wanting to lose his shit, not wanting this to become a screaming match or for him to yell at you for acting like a child.

Your eyes were starting to turn glossy with oncoming tears and he saw how hard you swallowed, your jaw locking.

“Bunny…”

His anger subsides, his tone less harsh. He comes to you, gently wrapping an arm around your back, the other hand cupping your face.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to lie to me,” the words caught in your throat.

Santiago nodded, his deep brown eyes searching your face.

“Or plan something as stupid as last night without consulting me.”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t stupid.”

Now, who’s acting like a child?

“Santi,” you extend the ‘i’ at the end of his name, using your hands to cover your face out of sheer frustration.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

You fight him as he tries to pry your hands away until he stops and walks away. He approaches the desk and takes a coffee, leaning his ass against the edge, folding one leg in front of the other. When you drop your hands down, all you can see is his smirk.

“So, where do you stand on surprises?”

“Surprises?”

He hums, staring over the lip of the cup as he drank.

You try to keep your composure, straightening your back and folding your arms again but Santiago can tell your fit to burst.

“Depends how stupid they are.”

“Yeah,” his eyebrow arches, “A trip to Disney is kind of stupid.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

There had been conversations about a trip. The boys all wanted different things, Will was happy to hop from state to state trying higher end motels, his brother mentioned the desert and horses. Frankie was fine if there was a body of water, preferably a lake, whilst Santiago said a cabin in the woods with a hot tub.

You vaguely remember alluding to the fact you hadn’t been to the parks in over ten years but if you were going to do it, you wouldn’t want just the day there.

The moment you said the ‘D’ word, Santiago groaned. It wasn’t that he hated it, more that he detested the idea of being surrounded by kids, overpriced food and Benny singing ‘it’s a small world after all’ on loop.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

“You’re lying.”

“You didn’t want me to lie to you anymore,” he held his hands up.

He’s grateful he put his coffee down as you sprint to him and throw your arms over his shoulders, crashing your lips squarely to his.

“I love you, Santi,” you say when you pull your lips away.

He doesn’t say anything and you scowl.

“You gonna say it back?”

He smiles, “Love you, honey.”

You give him a peck on the cheek.

“Am I allowed to let the boys know that I know?”

“Sure.”

With that you were gone, door left wide open.

“Bunny, your drink!”

The rest of them stood in the kitchen, chatting about what they could remember from last night, cradling cups of coffee and tea. It was the picture of calm until you burst in, bounding onto Benny who almost lost his balance as he took the weight of you around his neck.

“Hot pan!” He flung his arm out.

“We’re going to Disney,” you screamed.

Frankie and Will groan in unison. Benny put the pan down and wrapped his arms under your ass, scooping you up to his waist before talking to you enthusiastically about the trip without giving away any details.

“Pope, seriously man?”

“I thought we were telling her closer to the date.”

He shrugged, “I had to.”

Santiago would never admit why though Will gave a knowing nod and smile before turning his attention to you. He took the handle of the frying pan and switched the gas on as you twist your head round.

“Pancakes?”

“Please,” you replied softly and started discussing what you wanted to do. “We should do the drink around the world challenge!”

“Yes!”

“No,” Frankie and Santiago said immediately.

You pout to them as Benny places you down on the counter top. It’s short lived as you watch Will pour the batter perfectly into the pan with an accompanying sizzle. Benny still talks and you stuff your face with strawberries whilst Santiago and Frankie look on.

“You’re getting soft in your old age.”

“Shut up.”

Frankie knew full well it wasn’t old age.

#triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #santiago garcia #benny miller #will ironhead miller #frankie catfish morales #benny miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #will miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #smut #valentines fic

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gosmigenergy · 3 months

Text

WAKE UP CALL

( Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller x F!Reader )

Summary: Will invited you on one of his work trips but when you wake up early and can’t get back to sleep, you find a perfect use of your time.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Hand job, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.5k

You didn’t know how long you’d been awake.

It surprised you when you roused, knowing that you and Will were definitely still up at midnight after managing to commander the motel’s hot tub, the couple of other patrons nowhere to be seen.

He still slept peacefully beside you and you hated him for it.

When you opened your eyes, the room was dark and gradually the colour shifted to a shade of blue as the sun began to rise. You tried to find ways of entertaining yourself, your phone was charging on the opposite side of the room and you refused leave the warm cocoon of the bed. Stretching over to your bedside table, you found the remote yet the television showed nothing other than those weird shopping segments and kids cartoons.

So you switched it off and tried to go back to sleep.

Except you couldn’t.

You hear every noise from outside, the birds in the trees, that couple that have checked out so ridiculously early you can only question why. Then you try to reposition yourself, rolling left and right, tangling yourself into the sheets before sticking a leg out into the cool air. Finally, you just accept it, lay on your back and open your eyes, making shapes as you gazed at the whipped cream plastered ceiling.

It took a while for the sun to come through the slit of the curtains.

Sighing, your head lulled to the side.

The orange ray cut along the carpet and crept up the bed before perfectly framing Will’s profile like he’d fallen straight from heaven. His short hair was fluffy around the edges from last night’s escapades, his bottom lip peeking underneath his lightening whiskers. The fragment of light captured every sharp angle from his square jaw to the tip of his nose, his eyelashes casting the softest of shadows.

“Bunny…”

You blinked in disbelief, his mouth barely moved.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Sorry,” your voice was meek.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I tried.”

“Then put on the tv.”

“There’s nothing on.”

He grunted gently, already letting sleep take him.

If he was looking at you, he’d see the faint pout and doe eyed expression but it didn’t last when he lazily threw an arm up, gesturing you to come. Smiling, you crawl to his open chest and entangle your limbs around him, tucking one leg between his. Placing your head on his shoulder, he folds his arm over your back, his hand drawing down your arm until your fingers met.

This was a better time than ever to truly take him in.

You bring his hand millimetres from your face, take note of the length of the lines and try to remember their meanings. His fingers twitch as you drag a single fingertip over the central crease before you press your palm to his and assess the size difference. You cradle his wrist in both hands following the firm muscles in his arm to inspect the eagle tattoo that decorates it.

You were happy to see him using balm you got him, one produced with honey that made the ink shine as if it was freshly done.

Draping his arm over your stomach, you roll further into his body and nuzzle into the crook of his neck, the hairs on his jawline scratching your forehead. Breathing him in, you can smell his natural scent, the one you can never quite describe. Your hand comes to his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing.

Stretching your arm out, you graze his shoulder on the opposite side before following his collar bone. You leisurely stroke down the middle and circle round to trace the lightly formed six pack of his torso.

That’s when you feel the change of texture.

When it came to the boys and their scars, you never questioned them but this one on Will always surprised you. For a man who has been on the field as many times as him, he hasn’t got a scratch on him which means whatever happened here underneath your fingertips was… you never liked to think.

You continued to rub his chest until you heard the sigh slip past his lips.

It was the only encouragement you needed to go lower.

You brushed over the hairs underneath his navel before swooping from one hip to the other, fingertips skimming over his well defined ‘v’. His flaccid cock grows, swelling in anticipation of your touch but you make him wait, teasing the inside of his thigh. Cupping his balls, you gently massage them, a ragged breath escaping him as he becomes fully erect.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his as you softly roll your hips, the heat building in your belly and pooling in between your folds with the friction.

With a delicate touch, you stroke his cock to the tip, coating your fingertips with his precum before you start to play. You focus on there, it’s heat scorching through your skin as you circle up and down it’s domed shape.

His heartbeat was quickening, the sounds of his increasing breaths clear in your ears, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed.

Mentally, he was cursing you.

The offer of his embrace was meant to send you back to sleep, maybe he should have completely engulfed you, pinned you into position so you had no other choice. Though how could he complain?

All his other trips out of state were so similar, they blurred into one. Guided tours around bases that all had the same square foot, matching tables and chairs, everything clean to the point the room looks untouched. Offers to hang out with new recruits, to spend time talking to vets, to go for drinks. Dinner alone, settling into yet another white walled motel room with thin curtains and itchy sheets, his own hand his only company.

Your hand was much better.

Taking your hand away briefly, you lick the palm with your saliva before returning it back to his cock. His heavy weight jerks, the muscles of his abdomen straining as he stops himself from cumming there and then.

You pick your head up a little, glancing at his scrunched expression and noticing how he hadn’t opened his eyes because you both knew if he did, he was fucking screwed. Returning to his shoulder, you press a kiss to his skin before starting to pump him unhurriedly.

His body relaxes as he allows the pleasure to take over, each new movement of your hand spreading that initial warmth throughout. It brought a pink hue to his cheeks, sent a gravelled moan to his mouth from deep within, buried his fingers into the flesh of your stomach. The energy you once had in your hips dies out and you lay still with nothing but your hand moving, picking up the pace.

This wasn’t about the two of you reaching your release, it was solely about him.

His arm around your frame moves, his hand coming from your shoulder, moving the angle of your wrist. He chases the sensation, raising his hips and closes in on you, his cock now pressed in the middle of your stomachs.

The temperature between you was stifling, made even more paramount when he tucked your face under his chin. Sweat clung to his chest, his breath hot as it fell over your shoulder causing the hairs to stand up on the back of your neck.

You pulled your focus to the head of his cock, flattening your palm against the top, rubbing as you slithered your other hand from underneath you. Contorting your body, you reach for his balls and squeeze before kneading him. He shuddered, the spark travelling up his spine yet he refused to cum. You begin to jerk his length again, other hand still on his balls and turn up the tempo.

The air hisses through his gritted teeth then he groans.

Your tongue flicks over your lips, glossing them with moisture and he can see them behind his eyelids as you bring them to his ear.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Hot seed shots over your stomach and smothers your hand as he finds his release, his body going rigid. The hold he has around your frame grows tighter, the honeyed moan loud over the squelching as more of his cum paints your skin.

You sigh as your slick palm falls from his hard cock, the grip on his balls loosening.

He takes his time to catch his breath, chest heaving, when you feel him slowly unravel himself from you. Rolling onto his back, his expression softens, the smile on his face forcing the dimple into his cheek.

“I have to say, that’s the best wake up call I’ve ever had.”

Finally, he opens his eyes, glancing at his coated abdomen, a smear where your hand came into contact. Then he looked at you as you inspected the mess he’d made over your body, drops of creamy liquid landing on your breasts.

You fix your gaze to his as you consider a retort but then you see how those baby blues almost sparkle under heavy lids and one never comes.

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader #will ironhead miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #smut #valentines fic

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gosmigenergy · 3 months

Text

DANCE PARTNER

( Francisco ‘Fish’ Morales x F!Reader )

Summary: You begin to wonder why the hell Frankie would take you here until you find out that he has a hidden talent.

Rating: Fluff but like hot fluff?

Warnings: No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.1k

It was always hard to resist holding the guys’ hand when you walked down the street, you continuously had to remind yourself that you and Benny were the ones who were ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’.

Frankie’s broad hands were the most tempting.

He could sense you staring, he turns his head so he could question you.

“What’s wrong, Bunny?”

“Nothing,” you fluster, “just really want to hold your hand.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets, “Now you can’t.”

“You’re so mean.”

“We’re almost there,” he says, “and then you can hold my hand as much as you like.”

That brought the smile back to your face and that was something Frankie always liked to see. He was hesitant to ask you to come with him tonight, not many people know that he goes here though when he said comfy clothes and shoes you can move easily in, you didn’t sound so pleased.

Still, he had yet to tell you where you were going, the four of them seemed to do it all the time, they were lucky you were so willing.

It didn’t look much from the outside.

The building was a little run down and didn’t seem to have any visible signage, the windows mirrored to a view of the outside. Normally, you would try peering through even though you wouldn’t see anything, instead you decide against it, mostly to save the person opposite getting a ridiculous sight that they probably see all too often.

He knows that you’re trying to figure it out. Strolling to the door, he pulls it towards him before gesturing for you to go in.

Of course, you’re hesitant, practically tiptoeing to him with a furrowed brow. You lean to glance through the door and see nothing untoward but it doesn’t mean you don’t look at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t be scared.”

He follows you in and you stroll down the corridor before he tells you to take a right, you do so and go to the door at the end. Your hand hovers over the handle as you have a final glance at Frankie, who’s expression is soft and unassuming. A swift nod brings you to open the door and step through the threshold.

A woman squealing greeted you.

“Oh, a new face!”

You freeze.

The room is simple, red brick walls with a light wooden floor, fluorescent lights to make up for the slim windows that lined underneath the ceiling. There were maybe eleven or so more people there in a mixture of age ranges and you notice the woman speaking was wearing what appeared to be dancing heels and a light ruffle hemmed skirt.

Oh no.

“Francisco,” she glides over elegantly.

He places a hand on your lower back, guides you forward, into the room. All your instincts are telling you to run but there’s comfort in how he holds you, it’s either that or he knows you’re about to pass out.

“Hi Carmen.”

They lean in and she gives him an air kiss on each cheek.

“So nice of you to bring a friend,” she’s beaming at you.

“This is Bunny.”

“Bunny, Carmen.”

You go for a handshake however she takes it and pulls you close, giving you a similar greeting to Frankie. The temperature rises in your cheeks as you retreat to him, trying your best not to get as flustered as you do.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Is Bunny your real name?”

“No, no,” you waves your hands, “just a nickname.”

Her eyes flit between you and Francisco, her one eyebrow arching before her lips form into a knowing smile.

“You two are going to make perfect dance partners,” she points a single finger to the two of you. “I can already feel the passion.”

You giggle nervously, “I hope so.”

Carmen gets distracted by the next person who comes in and Frankie guides you away to a set of chairs lined up against one wall.

Your palms are sweaty, heartbeat starting to quicken. Someone once told you that your feet were like a dancer’s feet, your immediate response was that you wish you had because in reality, you had no rhythm.

“Sorry I didn’t tell,” he fiddled with the brim of his cap sheepishly.

“That’s ok, just didn’t realise you danced.”

“How’d you think I wooed my ex?”

“I thought you just showed her your pilot wings,” you shrugged.

He burst out laughing, the type that shook your whole body, almost brought tears to his eyes.

“Only Pope can be that smooth.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t put yourself down.”

The tips of his ears go red and he changes the subject, “So?”

“When were you going to show me your dance moves?”

“The opportunity has never arisen.”

You tilt your head to one side, “What about that night in the bar?”

The first night you met all four boys together, the shots Benny bought definitely went straight to your head and you found yourself on the dance floor for what felt like hours. Benny was your main partner, Will joined in once or twice but he stayed on the sidelines. Santiago ribbed him for it, Frankie merely wanted it to be a better scenario.

This was it.

“It wouldn’t have been my best.”

“What dance is this anyway?”

He cleared his throat, “Tango.”

Tango? He knew how you danced, loose limbed and swaying hips was as best you had, this was going to be intense. The groan you released was somewhat pained, this was not going to end well.

“You’ll be fine, cariño…”

That was new, it made you blush.

“Just follow my lead.”

Carmen clapped her hands to draw everyone’s attention to the front.

Frankie took your hand and guided you into the centre, nestled in between the lines that had already formed. You were grateful he hadn’t positioned the two of you at the front, in the line of fire for demonstrations or audience participation.

The lesson started with a warm up, some stretches to loosen the body where your muscles protested with being elongated to the floor and your bones cracked in some questionable places. Then the class moved onto practicing the basic steps, slowly at first before she picked up the pace and played some music to match. However Frankie was the perfect distraction, your steps falling out of time with everyone else as your eyes drifted to how his hips seemed to move in ways you hadn’t noticed before.

“You doing ok there, Bunny?”

Carmen’s gaze found your face amongst the throng and you blink at her, nodding feebly when you realise she’d caught you.

When you look back to him, he’s already checking you out, his feet still moving with precision. You pierce your lips as his smile widens and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Shaking your head, your eye line returns to your feet as your mind tries to count yourself back in.

“Alright, it’s time to nab yourself a partner.”

His hand instantly enveloped yours.

“Ready?”

“No,” you laugh nervously.

“Like I said earlier,” he smiles, “just follow my lead.”

He pulls you further to the side so the pair of you take up your own space, just on the outskirts of an unevenly distributed circle. His right hand wraps around your frame and he flattens his palm against your back before drawing you closer. You place your left hand on his shoulder and you breath, trying to slow down your heart rate. He squeezes your hand three times as he searches your face, your expression relaxes when you meet his big brown eyes.

All of you run through the steps and your eyes flick to the floor with every one.

A hand coming to your chin made you jump, Carmen had snuck up behind you and lifted your head back up, Frankie tried not to laugh.

“With such a handsome man in front of you, why are you looking at the floor?”

The question was rhetorical, she disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived. Instead of relaxing back into it, your limbs stiffened and he began to struggle to guide you.

“Bunny, you need to relax.”

You let out a held breath, “I’m trying.”

The hand on your back gently rubs up and down.

“Close your eyes,” he said calmly.

“I’ve already been told off once for not looking at you.”

“If you trust me, you’ll let me lead.”

You take a shaky inhale and allow your eyelids to flutter shut, breathing out as Frankie hugs your frame nearer.

“Now,” his voice is low, “Focus on me.”

Your face scrunched for a moment as you tried to concentrate. It was the hand you were holding you that caught your attention, with it’s light embrace as it steadily hung midair, skin slightly rough after years of heavy use. The other that was pressed firmly on your back, warmth spreading through the fabric of your top, the taut shoulder muscle under your own.

“If you want to add a little something, remember you can shape the lady over your leg.”

Carmen’s voice caused you to misstep.

“Block her out,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

His breath teases your neck, the whiskers that line his jaw grazing your cheek as he pulls back and you swallow as the saliva builds. The temperature between you rises and you can see the sweat building on his chest where his collar bones meet in the middle.

Was it supposed to be this hot?

The two of you continue like this for a few more steps before he lunges back and instinctively, you lean your shoulders and neck back to hold yourself strong. He straightens up and carries on with the basics.

“That’s my girl.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

When he decides to do it again, you open your eyes, lids heavy as you attempt to come back into the room. You allow him to keep moving you, bending you in ways you only had done when you’d had sex with any of them. Though you were sure he was stretching you just to show off, the wink he gave cementing the fact.

“Are you allowed to spin me?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he clocked where Carmen was in the room and noted how distracted she was by a couple who couldn’t get in sequence. He’d been to enough classes to know how to spin you, knew it would take about nine seconds at the most. It should be a quick enough in and out that she wouldn’t even notice it happened.

“Take another two steps back, I’ll do the rest.”

You do as he says, arm stretching your body away from him. He gently tugs your arm and you do a spin, giggle as he coils an arm around you and leans your frame back. Quickly, he returns you both to the original position and carries on as before. He tries to ignore the two star pupils who were rolling their eyes at you.

“Right! Time for a cool down.”

The last ten minutes was a free for all, Carmen put on music, there was no steps to follow, no necessary partners, everyone was just expected to dance.

For you and Frankie, it wasn’t much of a cool down.

The pair of you used it as an excuse to get as close as possible, he pressed his chest against your back and moved his hips in tandem to yours. Your hands roamed what part of his body they could reach, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist, his palms smoothing over your hips.

If he wanted you to always focus on him, you would do gladly.

You were aware of judgemental eyes but you’d reached a point where you didn’t give a shit. This whole lesson was too formal for you, this was the kind of dancing you could get on board with and it made you wish Frankie danced with you that night at the bar.

He practically growled in your ear when the music stopped.

Unravelling himself from you, he pluck his hat from his head and ran a hand through his curls.

“So,” he fixed the cap back into position, “did you enjoy yourself?”

You hum, “Kind of forgot how much of a turn on it was.”

Grabbing your arm, he stops you in your tracks to turn and face him.

“Are you saying —“

He watches your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

Carmen was the type of dance teacher who prided herself in ensuring all who students left satisfied. She talked to each individual and listened to them until they had nothing more to say before moving onto the next person. It was only after a few conversations that she realised she was two people down.

“Have any of you seen Francisco and Bunny?”

#triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #fluff #valentines fic #actually remembered to put the read more link in this time #sorry about that

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gosmigenergy · 3 months

Text

You always reblog with the loveliest comments, thank you 💕

MY BUNNY VALENTINE

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

Summary: When Benny says he’s just heading out, you don’t expect him to return with a big surprise.

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, biting, dry humping, slapping if you squint, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), biting, marking, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.3k

It was one of those rare occasions where Benny didn’t wake you up when he woke up. He got up and pulled on his gym gear when his phone pinged from his side of the bed, his eyes flicking to you even though you hadn’t even moved.

The corner of his lips quirked when he read the message and for today, he saw it best to kill two birds with one stone and go to the gym to catch up with his other boys. Coming back with a morning brew, he shook you gently. He should have anticipated your reaction as you groaned, burying yourself further into the duvet.

“Bunny,” his voice was soft as he brushed the hair from your face.

Your brows knotted before your eyes opened to thin slits, lids still heavy.

“Benny?”

You croaked on your enquiry, it was early, far too early.

“I’m heading out to the gym, gonna do a couple of things while I’m out, want anything?”

You yawn, “I’m good, thanks.”

Your eyes fall shut and he watches as your head sinks deeper into the pillow. Leaning forward, he kisses your crown before he steps out of the room, closing the door with his lightest touch.

When you finally came to, his apartment was quiet. Pulling on your t-shirt and the nearest pair of sweatpants, you stagger from the bedroom, rubbing your eyes. You call his name a few times, peeking into his office and gym before accepting the fact he wasn’t home. Checking your phone, the late morning time reflects back at you.

He’s usually back by now… unless he did a longer session?

You’re not one to message to ask where the hell he is but when you rummage around the kitchen, finding nothing satisfactory, you find a reason to get in contact.

‘Lunch?’

You put your phone in your pocket, you feel the weight of it fall further than usual. Looking down, you realise the difference in fabric before your brain finally processed you were wearing his - more caffeine was needed.

As you waited for the water to boil, there was a chirp.

‘Already sorted darlin 😘’

You react with a heart, Benny knew you too well.

On your days off, especially at the boys’ places, you do your best to relax and much to Benny’s annoyance, you’d really gotten into playing on his Switch. You took the controls from him so much, he’d just added your name to his device and watched as you replay everything he’d already done, teasing you just a little for not being as good.

Keys jostled in the lock and you immediately pause the game, jumping from your seat.

His face lit up when he saw you, “Hey, Bunny.”

“Hey, need some help?”

“If you don’t mind taking these,” he hands you a few bags, “there’s one more thing I need to get from the car.”

You peek into the one bag to see what’s for lunch.

“I’ll dish up,” you say, wandering to the kitchen.

There were a few places Benny liked to go to so it was always exciting to see what he picked up. You pull out a glass bottle of fizzy orange and instantly knew he’d been to the truck not far from the gym. The second bottle was lemon and there were two intricately wrapped, somehow still warm burritos. You open up a cupboard, balancing on your tiptoes as you went to get plates, the door slammed behind Benny as he came back in.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

You gasp.

Leaning from behind the door, you see him, his face taken over by his white smile whilst the rest of him was hidden behind a giant bunny plush.

“It’s huge!”

“I know,” he was chuckling as your face remained stunned. “You gonna come get it?”

Giggling, you run over to him and he handed it over. The fluffy texture engulfed you and you found yourself snuggling deeper into it’s softness, taking a big breath in to smell it’s crisp clean smell, the faintest hint of his aftershave clinging to the fibres.

“Where did you find this?”

“Just a random secondhand store, it was in the window and I couldn’t resist.”

“I bet you got some looks.”

Oh, he did but the moment he mentioned it was for his girlfriend, people’s expressions changed except the woman at the cleaners. She was not impressed when he turned up, asking if there was any possibility they knew how to clean this bunny. Rolling her eyes, she snatched the bunny from him and said two weeks, handing him a scrap of paper with an amount probably double the price it should be.

He flicked the ears out of the way so he could catch your sparkling eyes.

“It was worth it.”

The temperature rose in your cheeks and you found yourself trying to hide even more behind the stuffed toy.

“Know what you’re gonna call him?”

You were slow to respond.

“Mr Bunny,” you finally said.

He cocked his head to one side, “I was expecting something a little more imaginative.”

“He’s wearing a bowtie, he’s a sophisticated gentleman.”

Benny hums, nodding though he was pandering to you with a smirk on his face. You huff, turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen.

“Fine,” you glance over your shoulder, “me and Mr Bunny will eat the burritos and you can make yourself something.”

“Hey, I worked hard for that burrito!”

For the rest of the day, you barely moved from the couch, except for freshening up when Benny insisted the pair of you at least walked around the block and you also handed back his sweatpants. After that, you found yourself snuggled up with him one side and the newly appointed Mr Bunny on the other.

Benny was beginning to regret his decision in getting you that giant teddy.

Sure, a little part of him had wanted to one up his brother ever since Will won you a big plush Grogu at the arcade, which you then proceeded to take with you to their parents when you were threatened and ultimately ended up in a bedroom in the main house, separated from the boys in the barn. Will had never mentioned how the other teddy got in the way or maybe it was because you had something new to play with that he was only slightly starting to feel like a third wheel.

He squirmed in his seat for what felt like the twentieth time tonight.

“Is something up, babe?”

In the warm glow of the lampshade, you look up at him doe-eyed.

“No,” he sighed before a long pause. “Maybe.”

You fluttered your lashes at him, lips piercing as one arm tightens around Mr Bunny. He hone in on the oversized teddy, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re jealous of Mr Bunny.”

You lean away from him like you’re scared he’ll take it away.

“Only a little.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him.”

“Aaaw,” you say almost sarcastically, “am I starving you of attention, Benny?”

Except Benny wasn’t listening, he wasn’t even looking, he was fully focused on that goddamn bunny. It was the first time you’d ever seen his gorgeous green eyes go dark and his smile turned into a straight line.

“Give me the bunny,” he growled softly.

“No,” you huff.

You make a show of shuffling yourself to the opposite side of the couch, wrapping your arms around the neck of the teddy, pouting.

What happened next is exactly how you imagined him and Will might have resolved something like this when they were younger. Benny pounced like a lion who had seen his prey and held himself effortlessly above you, boxing you in with his arms and legs.

Squealing, you go to fight back, lifting your legs ready to thrash but he pins his knees to keep your thighs together before sitting inches above the trapped limbs. Wriggling your way out is useless yet it doesn’t stop you trying, your upper body writhing and twisting to try and get the teddy away from him. He watches as your expression scrunches and you moan sweetly as you attempt to escape.

He doesn’t move, he simply bides his time.

It takes you a minute to realise he’s not actually doing anything to you or Mr Bunny.

First you stop, your back firmly against the cushions of the couch then you open your eyes, panting gently to catch your breath. He’s so close your noses almost touch, staring intently as his lips form into a smug smile.

“Give me one good reason why I’m better than Mr Bunny and I may let you go.”

You blink up at him, mouth twitching as you thought of what to say.

“Ok, he’s fluffy and soft and good to snuggle…”

His eyebrows raised, you were losing him.

“But he can’t fuck me like you do.”

His face instantly changed, his beaming smile returning as he leant closer and brushed the tip of his nose against yours.

“How about we show him how it’s done?”

You giggle, loosening your grip on the teddy as his one hand came to rest over it’s face. He pulled it from between you in one motion, leaning back to tuck it into the corner where he once sat, returning his attention back to you.

“He’s not looking at us.”

What you said sounded innocent enough but Benny’s one eyebrow arched.

“How else is he gonna learn?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and repositions Mr Bunny so the plastic eyes are focused on you.

“Better?”

He looks to you and you nod happily.

Within a second, he engulfs you, his palms pressed against your cheeks as he crashes his lips into yours. He’s feverish, taking the air from your lungs as he forces his tongue into your mouth and roams around. Your muscles begin to loosen and you allow him to take you any way he pleases.

He finally lets you breath, moving his kisses over your chin and down your neck, hands roaming over the swell of your breasts. Your nipples harden even under your t-shirt as his fingers teased the hemline. A moan escapes your lips when he buries himself into the crook of your neck, sucking gently, hiking up the material.

Your hands instinctively chase him as he shuffles back to plant kisses on your stomach, his chin grazing the elastic of your sleep shorts. Sinking your fingers into his dirty blonde locks, he follows your pull, dragging his tongue towards to middle of your tits. He kisses the curve of one before flicking his tongue around your nipple, taking it in his mouth. You fist his hair tighter then let go when he releases it.

He sighs, “I do miss the piercings.”

The piercings lasted a few months until you found them a problem. They were aesthetically pleasing and the boys, Benny and Santiago in particular, did like them but you could never get used to them. And you thought your nipples were sensitive beforehand, now it was a whole new level.

“Still happy to play with them though,” you giggle.

He cups a nipple in his mouth again, humming, the vibrations causing your arousal to pool. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle the moan, feeling him smile knowing exactly what he’d done. Releasing himself with a pop, he straightened his back and slapped your tits playfully before lifting up his legs.

He coiled his arms in between his thighs and guided your legs out and over his, palms moving to your hips to lift you up. Edging forward, he began to fold you in half as you wrapped your legs around his lean frame then his hips grinds against your covered pussy, a honeyed sigh comes from deep.

“Feels good, hm?”

Your eyelids flutter shut as he rolls his hips again, your head falling back to the couch.

Benny would only blame you for how hard he already was. You were pinned under his weight, grunting sweetly as you tried to overthrow him was fucking better than any opponent in the ring. He felt his cock stiffen the moment your ass ate your shorts and revealed more bare thigh, even Mr Bunny couldn’t hide that one.

He slipped one hand up the leg hole, fingertips reaching for your slick folds, searching for your clit behind the damp fabric.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, lower back jolting.

Looks like he wasn’t the only one who got worked up in the struggle.

Taking two fingers, he scoops your juice and softly draws circles on the bundle of nerves. You whimper, back arching to his touch as the tingling starts to spread across the muscles, your legs locking against him. He works you until you’re gasping for air, chest heaving, face burrowed into the nearest decorative cushion then suddenly he stops, slipping his hand from the confines of your shorts.

You whine at the lose of touch.

“Mr Bunny doesn’t want you to come yet,” he says, sucking the end of his fingers, your tang waking up his tastebuds.

“I don’t think he’d say that, he’s on my side.”

He laughs, “Nah, he wants to see me stretch that pussy first.”

You yelp as Benny grabs your elastic waistband and coaxes you to unlock your legs before he tugs your shorts off roughly. Tossing them to the side, you watch his hands move to his sweatpants, the small dark spot an indicator for the precum that seeped through the material. His cock swung freely as he hitched down the waistband.

He picks up your hips, resting them on his thighs as he takes one hand to his hardened length, lining it up to your opening. Running through folds, he uses your juices to lubricate his tip before pushing it gently into you. You sigh, head falling back, offering your neck for him to take as he continues to sink his cock inside.

Taking one hand from your hip, he leans forward and places the palm directly next to your cheek. Hovering over you again, he smiles, his stray hairs falling to your face and your chest begins to flush.

You feel him pulling out, the drag of his cock trapped amongst your inner walls and you wrap your legs around his lower back. The pair of you give a harmonious moan that fills the air, one that makes you forget whatever you were watching on the television. Actually, with how close he was, he took over each of your senses, making you forget you were even in a room.

Mr Bunny wasn’t even an afterthought, it was nothing but Benny.

He snapped his hips, filling you to the hilt, taking your breath away in the process. Holding his cock inside, your walls flutter around his form, the warmth spreading across your belly. He goes again and again, each stroke brushing lightly against that sweet spot, the one once hit just right will have you screaming his name.

And that’s what he wants to hear.

He’s never been so hungry for you before. Drunk off your cute, little squeaks, high from breathing in the delicate scent of your perfume. Slowly, your own pleasure builds, the sweat clinging to your hairline as he pants hotly over your skin. You’ve had to close your eyes and drop your head to one side, concealing your melting expression from his sharp gaze.

As he draws himself out, you mewl at the lose, the grip of your legs strengthening as you chase his cock. He soothes you with a soft caress of your side before he changes his position slightly, your hips becoming a fraction higher.

“Bunny, look at me.”

You peer out from the cushion, the muscles in your arms loosening. He appeared equally as flushed, the heat between you searing despite the noticeable chill in the middle of your bodies. It was a brief moment of calm then his fingers squeeze three times and all you can do is nod feebly.

“That’s my girl,” he throws a wink in your direction.

Your girl, you blush.

Holding you steady, he seamlessly slips back into your weeping cunt and his tip presses right where he wants it.

“Oh my god,” the final vowel extends.

He props himself up over you, his nose rubbing against yours. Rolling his hips, he hits the spot again sharply, catching your cry in his mouth as he kisses you. With each thrust, he captures every sweet sound you give. Your legs vibrate against him, fingers clawing helplessly at the couch as his movements grow frantic.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he comes up for air.

He drops his head, eyes focusing on how his length lips in and out of you with ease, your juices flowing as your pussy sucks him back down.

“Benny, Benny, fuck.”

Your stomach grows taut, your toes curling against his back.

“That’s it, darlin’, keep saying my name.”

How did that manage to turn you on more? The squelch of your walls as he pushed harder and harder filled the space, it was almost obscene but he was basking in it. Your arousal was spreading, sticking to the hairs that lines the end of his cock and he looked back to you. You were almost there and his eyes fell to the crook of your neck, his tongue flicking across his lips. He folded you in half to sink his teeth into your flesh.

That’s when the knot in you belly snapped and you came apart screaming his name.

Now he understood why Santiago bit you occasionally, the release was so intense, he’s sure his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Your pussy trapped him within your pulsating walls until you milked him dry. His jaw relaxed, a single string of saliva clinging to you as he lifted his heavy head.

You lay beneath him, chest heaving as the aftershocks continued to dance across your body legs finally giving in.

He kissed where he’d left marks on your skin, soothing laps of the tongue before his lips pressed deeper then he delivered them up your neck, your jaw. Brushing the hair from your face, he crashes into your lips and refuses to let go until you’re struggling to breath, swatting his chest with your palm.

He traces the bite with his fingertips.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You cup his cheek, trailing a thumb along the bone.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say smiling.

He swiftly kisses your palm, “I’ll get something to clean you up.”

Pulling out of you, he eases your back to the couch before climbing off and heading to the bathroom. You tug your t-shirt down over your breasts and sit up, bringing your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. Mr Bunny sat opposite you, had fallen forward it what you would joke was shock or an attempt to get a view but you know it was because Benny plowed you into the cushion at full force.

Who knew a giant teddy could get him so riled up.

“Want a drink?”

You looked over your shoulder as he wandered over and handed you a cool damp face cloth. Hugging the fabric to your neck, the change in temperature softens the tension you didn’t realise was there.

“I’m good, thanks babe.”

“Alright, I’ll get you a water.”

You laugh, he always made sure you stayed hydrated.

Returning with two bottles of water, he opens a top and gives it to you. You happily accept, taking a sip as he lifts your legs up by the ankles and slides underneath, draping your limbs over his thighs.

He spreads you open, notes how his cum has started to dribble from your pussy. Carefully, he tucks a towel between your legs and wipes away the excess. You hum, tipping your head to the side as you watch him intently. Once he finishes cleaning you up, he meets your face to admire you in your dishevelled, post sex appearance and as always, the temperature rises in your cheeks.

“Fancy a snuggle?” His head cocks to the plush beside him.

“Nah,” you say, scooting your ass closer as you drape an arm over his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “He doesn’t have a stitch on you.”

106 notes · View notes

gosmigenergy · 3 months

Text

MY BUNNY VALENTINE

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

Summary: When Benny says he’s just heading out, you don’t expect him to return with a big surprise.

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, biting, dry humping, slapping if you squint, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), biting, marking, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.3k

“Bunny,” his voice was soft as he brushed the hair from your face.

Your brows knotted before your eyes opened to thin slits, lids still heavy.

“Benny?”

You croaked on your enquiry, it was early, far too early.

“I’m heading out to the gym, gonna do a couple of things while I’m out, want anything?”

You yawn, “I’m good, thanks.”

Your eyes fall shut and he watches as your head sinks deeper into the pillow. Leaning forward, he kisses your crown before he steps out of the room, closing the door with his lightest touch.

He’s usually back by now… unless he did a longer session?

You’re not one to message to ask where the hell he is but when you rummage around the kitchen, finding nothing satisfactory, you find a reason to get in contact.

‘Lunch?’

As you waited for the water to boil, there was a chirp.

‘Already sorted darlin 😘’

You react with a heart, Benny knew you too well.

Keys jostled in the lock and you immediately pause the game, jumping from your seat.

His face lit up when he saw you, “Hey, Bunny.”

“Hey, need some help?”

“If you don’t mind taking these,” he hands you a few bags, “there’s one more thing I need to get from the car.”

You peek into the one bag to see what’s for lunch.

“I’ll dish up,” you say, wandering to the kitchen.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

You gasp.

Leaning from behind the door, you see him, his face taken over by his white smile whilst the rest of him was hidden behind a giant bunny plush.

“It’s huge!”

“I know,” he was chuckling as your face remained stunned. “You gonna come get it?”

“Where did you find this?”

“Just a random secondhand store, it was in the window and I couldn’t resist.”

“I bet you got some looks.”

He flicked the ears out of the way so he could catch your sparkling eyes.

“It was worth it.”

The temperature rose in your cheeks and you found yourself trying to hide even more behind the stuffed toy.

“Know what you’re gonna call him?”

You were slow to respond.

“Mr Bunny,” you finally said.

He cocked his head to one side, “I was expecting something a little more imaginative.”

“He’s wearing a bowtie, he’s a sophisticated gentleman.”

Benny hums, nodding though he was pandering to you with a smirk on his face. You huff, turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen.

“Fine,” you glance over your shoulder, “me and Mr Bunny will eat the burritos and you can make yourself something.”

“Hey, I worked hard for that burrito!”

Benny was beginning to regret his decision in getting you that giant teddy.

He squirmed in his seat for what felt like the twentieth time tonight.

“Is something up, babe?”

In the warm glow of the lampshade, you look up at him doe-eyed.

“No,” he sighed before a long pause. “Maybe.”

You fluttered your lashes at him, lips piercing as one arm tightens around Mr Bunny. He hone in on the oversized teddy, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re jealous of Mr Bunny.”

You lean away from him like you’re scared he’ll take it away.

“Only a little.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him.”

“Aaaw,” you say almost sarcastically, “am I starving you of attention, Benny?”

“Give me the bunny,” he growled softly.

“No,” you huff.

You make a show of shuffling yourself to the opposite side of the couch, wrapping your arms around the neck of the teddy, pouting.

He doesn’t move, he simply bides his time.

It takes you a minute to realise he’s not actually doing anything to you or Mr Bunny.

“Give me one good reason why I’m better than Mr Bunny and I may let you go.”

You blink up at him, mouth twitching as you thought of what to say.

“Ok, he’s fluffy and soft and good to snuggle…”

His eyebrows raised, you were losing him.

“But he can’t fuck me like you do.”

His face instantly changed, his beaming smile returning as he leant closer and brushed the tip of his nose against yours.

“How about we show him how it’s done?”

“He’s not looking at us.”

What you said sounded innocent enough but Benny’s one eyebrow arched.

“How else is he gonna learn?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and repositions Mr Bunny so the plastic eyes are focused on you.

“Better?”

He looks to you and you nod happily.

He sighs, “I do miss the piercings.”

“Still happy to play with them though,” you giggle.

“Feels good, hm?”

Your eyelids flutter shut as he rolls his hips again, your head falling back to the couch.

He slipped one hand up the leg hole, fingertips reaching for your slick folds, searching for your clit behind the damp fabric.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, lower back jolting.

Looks like he wasn’t the only one who got worked up in the struggle.

You whine at the lose of touch.

“Mr Bunny doesn’t want you to come yet,” he says, sucking the end of his fingers, your tang waking up his tastebuds.

“I don’t think he’d say that, he’s on my side.”

He laughs, “Nah, he wants to see me stretch that pussy first.”

Mr Bunny wasn’t even an afterthought, it was nothing but Benny.

And that’s what he wants to hear.

“Bunny, look at me.”

“That’s my girl,” he throws a wink in your direction.

Your girl, you blush.

Holding you steady, he seamlessly slips back into your weeping cunt and his tip presses right where he wants it.

“Oh my god,” the final vowel extends.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he comes up for air.

He drops his head, eyes focusing on how his length lips in and out of you with ease, your juices flowing as your pussy sucks him back down.

“Benny, Benny, fuck.”

Your stomach grows taut, your toes curling against his back.

“That’s it, darlin’, keep saying my name.”

That’s when the knot in you belly snapped and you came apart screaming his name.

You lay beneath him, chest heaving as the aftershocks continued to dance across your body legs finally giving in.

He traces the bite with his fingertips.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You cup his cheek, trailing a thumb along the bone.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say smiling.

He swiftly kisses your palm, “I’ll get something to clean you up.”

Who knew a giant teddy could get him so riled up.

“Want a drink?”

You looked over your shoulder as he wandered over and handed you a cool damp face cloth. Hugging the fabric to your neck, the change in temperature softens the tension you didn’t realise was there.

“I’m good, thanks babe.”

“Alright, I’ll get you a water.”

You laugh, he always made sure you stayed hydrated.

“Fancy a snuggle?” His head cocks to the plush beside him.

“Nah,” you say, scooting your ass closer as you drape an arm over his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “He doesn’t have a stitch on you.”

#triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #smut #valentines fic

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gosmigenergy · 3 months

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SECRET ROMANTIC

( Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader )

Summary: Unusually, Santiago wants to get out and you happily accept his offer, even if it’s not what you think.

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of being tied up and Shibari, language, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Notes: Just a little one to get me back into writing Bunny and the TF Boys again. I knew I wanted to do a some Valentine specials and I surprised myself with Santiago fluff. Also in case you need to go back, start here.

“Fancy a drive?”

Santiago decided to ask this question whilst you were still tied to the headboard, having just pulled multiple orgasms out of you. Cocking your head to one side, you watch him walk around the bedroom nonchalantly. The enquiry was so casual, left to hang in the air until you chose to respond, except you didn’t know how to.

“Is that a trick question?”

Still, after all these months, you struggled to tell if he was joking.

He smiles, laughing to himself, “No, honey.”

“Where would we go?”

“Haven’t thought about it,” he shrugs, picking up his briefs from the floor before pulling them on. “Just fancy going out.”

He used to do this occasionally in his old life. When he had spent to long running after an eluding drug lord or war criminal, he would go for a drive or a walk, see where the night would take him. It would aid in clearing his head, calm his overactive mind and help him escape the seeded underbellies he was usually caught up in. The need had never risen since returning to the States, since you’d been around but for some reason, it was there.

It wasn’t necessarily eating him yet you had noticed he was a touch off his game.

He sits on the edge of the mattress and leans against the pillows placed underneath you. His fingers brush the stray hairs from your face before he rests a palm on your cheek, admiring that adorable confused expression of yours.

“Or…”

Your head tilts to meet his eyes.

“I can leave you tied up here.”

Your body tentatively closes itself in.

“Ok, I’ll go.”

Santiago was kind enough to let you freshen up before the pair of you headed out. You asked him what to wear he said something warm and when you were changed, you found him in the kitchen screwing the top on a flask. Part of you wanted to ask where you were going but something told you he didn’t really know.

Climbing in his truck, you both sit in a comfortable silence as he drove through the streets and sometimes you forget that life still happens even when you’re not outside. He carried on driving until the crowds thinned, the street became quieter and the roads became more open, greenery decorated where the sidewalks used to be.

One hand came off the wheel, his palm laying softly on your thigh with an accompanying squeeze. You glance over to him, his profile perfectly defined against the blurred background of the world, a soft smile on his lips. He was actually happy he finally had someone to do this with rather than roam the streets alone, trying to find some sense of relief which would normally lead him to a bar.

Your attention returns to the road though he doesn’t lose you completely, your hand enveloping the one on your leg, fingers gently intertwining.

His smile gets bigger.

It had been a while before Santiago decided to take a turn, his hand slipped from under yours and you straightened up in your seat as the car swayed onto a new path.

“I didn’t fall asleep,” the words just came out.

He laughed, eyes not moving off the road as the terrain began to get bumpy. The motion continued until the truck reached a clearing, the sun beginning to set in the distance and he swerved before parking in reverse.

He switched off the engine, “Come on.”

Jumping out, you walk around to the back of the truck where he’s already dropping the tailgate for the pair of you to sit. Once he’s done, he turns around and immediately wraps his arms under your ass, hoisting you onto the edge as you giggle.

You rock from side to side, getting comfy and he heads to the driver’s side again.

The location he had chosen was serene, the sky painted in watercolour with specks of white dancing across the bottom of the canvas as the lights came on in the buildings far away. Santiago returned with a flask, two tin mugs and a blanket before settling beside you.

“Watching the sunset, little romantic, isn’t it?”

He huffed, “I can be romantic.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” you shuffle closer, legs pressing against his, “this is just a first.”

He guessed it was, him being romantic, most of the time he was just being a dom and you were being his mostly obedient sub. Romance was left to the likes of Francisco and Will, in this scenario anyway.

You mostly sit in silence, watching as the colours above change from orange to purple to blue before the stars faintly began to appear. A shiver runs through your body as the sun finally sank out of sight. He doesn’t say anything yet his hands go for the blanket, unfurling it as he drapes it over both your shoulders.

“Thanks, Santi.”

His eyes return to the view ahead and there’s a pause before he speaks.

“Are you still happy with the agreement?”

“Yeah, of course, why? Did someone mention something?”

The panic was rising in your tone.

“No, Bunny, everything’s fine,” he shook his head. “I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

Someone had to stay level headed in this, he’d heard plenty of stories on the scene where this had gone wrong, so wrong people got hurt and none of them would want to do that to you. If any of the boys had a problem, they’d say it straight or if they didn’t, they’d have a fight then forget all about it.

You hesitate, wonder whether you should try and look him in the eye, instead, you reach for his hand and loosely hold it.

“And what about you? Is everything fine with you?”

His hand gripped yours a little tighter, “Just needed a break.”

It suddenly occurred to you that whenever you were with Santiago, it was always days and nights filled with sex. Of course, you’d eat but apart from that, that was the only relatively normal thing of your relationship with him. You were always ready for your week with him, he’d bring out the toys or find an event to go to, it was nonstop unlike all the rest of the boys. Even Benny chilled out every once and a while.

Dropping your head, you looked at your feet.

“You know, we can just do stuff like this.”

“You wouldn’t find it boring?”

“Of course not,” you giggled, “I’m still surprised you’re coming up with ideas.”

His eyebrows twitched, “I am starting to struggle.”

Part of him thought the intensity and variety of your sessions was the reason you kept coming back to him. Sure, he enjoyed being a dom in the bedroom especially with a submissive as good as you but even he was flagging, your week together would be over and he’d take the next three weeks to recover before he did it all over again.

Maybe treating this as a relationship would actually do him some good.

“I suppose there is only so many ways you can tie me up.”

He gave you a sideways glance, “There's always Shibari.”

“Really, Santiago?”

“Always needed someone to practice on,” he shrugs.

“I thought we were about to slow down,” you say, laughing.

“Shibari can be slow,” he nudges his shoulder to yours, “and very intimate.”

His hand slips out from yours and reaches for the flask, unscrewing the top. You blush, the word intimate enough to make that warm sensation come into your belly.

“You know me too well.”

The liquid trickles into the mug, steam rising and you finally turn your face to him. You take the mug in your hand, softly brushing your fingers over his as he handed it over, you pout when you see the contents.

“I thought it was gonna be hot chocolate.”

“You know I never have any at my place, this is your sleepy tea.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep on the drive home, you do realise that?”

He hums, continuing to pour himself one. With the onsetting darkness, he wants to stay warm, of course he’s got a blanket and you but he just wants one more thing to keep the cold away. Putting the flask away, he shuffles his ass closer to you, tucking his one arm around your back to hold you closer.

You scoot even nearer, resting your head on his shoulder. Breathing him in, the scent of his smoky cologne teases your nostrils, the rise and fall of his chest enough to make you start feeling sleepy and you think of how nice it would be to go to sleep beneath the stars.

“This is really nice.”

He glances down and sees you staring back, doe eyed. His lips form into a smile, words not needing to be said before he returns to the view in front, sipping his tea.

"Here I was, thinking you’d brought me here to fuck.”

He sighs, way to ruin the moment, Bunny.

“Just keep watching the sunset.”

And you did.

#triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #fluff #valentines fic

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gosmigenergy · 3 months

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Hey, hi, little update to let you know that I'm still here!

After being away for Christmas, I am now in the process of moving into my own place 😱 But I am also writing and plan on posting some new Triple Frontier x Bunny fics for Valentine's!

In the mean time, here's a pic from someone's Insta Story that is 100% Benny Gym Bunny energy, see you soon!

#real life shit #fics in progress #fic inspo #gym bunny inspo

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gosmigenergy · 3 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Four

OVERSTIMULATION / OVIPOSITION/EGGLAYING / HUMAN URINAL

( Will 'Ironhead' Miller x F!Reader )

Summary: Will offers to give you a massage, what you get is so much more.

Day four of @absurdthirst's Kinktober!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Language, sensual massage, a dabble of anal, fingering, squirting, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.5k

There was a strong possibility you could die here.

Unlike the other three, Will had specified that he wanted to learn every inch of your body, and the way he said it with his blue eyes piercing into you, you know he wasn’t lying. However you didn’t expect it to come to this.

What had originally started as a massage was now approaching it’s fourth hour.

You almost snatched his hand off when Will offered to give you a massage the next time he had you. The last time you’d had one done professionally was years ago, a birthday present from an aunt who had no idea what to get you but at the time, you worked in retail and she thought it might do you some good before the holidays approached.

This was not like that massage.

When you arrived at his place, he had already set up the bedroom ready. He asked you to go and get undressed and lay yourself on top of the bed.

You did as you were told, greeted by a low light room decorated sporadically with candles. He’d set the temperature to warm the space up so you could happily walk around fully naked without the worry of feeling the chill. The bed was draped in a fleece blanket and you threw your body down to meet the soft, bounding mattress and silky sheets. You sit up, brushing your hair out of your face and tying up the strands into a loose knot.

The door creaks and Will squeezes into the room, carrying a large bottle of water and two glasses.

“Where do you want me?”

He places everything on a set of chest of drawers, “Lay on your front.”

Straightening your legs out, you roll onto your front, making sure to exaggerate the motion of your hips, ass on full show. You glance over your shoulder to see him smiling back at you, head leaning back. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it before.

He comes back to his senses.

Folding your arms, you rest your head, tilted to the right so you can still see him as he wandered the space. He comes to the side of you, leaning at the hip to see your face in the darkened room, the orange glow of a candle catching your eye.

“Comfy?”

You hum a response.

He thumbs through his phone and finds some music, the speaker vibrating gently. Taking off his shirt and jeans, he keeps his boxers on before reaching for a rectangular glass bottle, the liquid inside gold.

“Tried my best to keep it warm.”

He climbs onto the bed and out of your eye line yet you can still feel his weight as he shifts on the mattress.

You press your forehead to your arms, closing your eyes and breathing deep, trying to calm your body and relax your muscles. There has never been a time when a lover had done something like this for you, had never been this intimate. The oil hits your skin, plentiful as Will runs it along your spine like a river.

There’s a brief moment as he tightens the lid back onto the bottle.

His palms spread wide over your back as he sits gently on the backs of your legs. It’s almost like he’s a professional, working into your muscles with precise pressure and motion, deepening the oil into your softening skin. He watches as the glitter shimmers against the movement of your body, the scent of coconut and yuzu delicately wafting into your nostrils.

There’s knots in your shoulders that untangle, a satisfied moan seeping from your lips.

“Holding a lot of tension there,” he speaks softly.

“I blame work.”

He laughs, “I’m just glad it’s not us.”

Sure, juggling four guys was hard but it’s early stages, you’ll manage and right now, you couldn’t possibly complain.

He continued for a while before he shuffled back and ran the heel of his hand over your. Following the curvature of ass, he pushes the muscles around, separating the cheeks to view that tight little asshole. The tiniest drop of oil ran down and over the creases and towards your sex, instinctively he went to stop it with his middle finger.

Your asshole twitched.

“I don’t remember that ever happening in a massage.”

He chuckles in embarrassment and your unable to see his cheeks blush.

“I did say I wanted to know every inch.”

“I guess you did.”

Adding his forefinger, he drags them cautiously over your puckered hole.

“Has anyone ever taken you up the ass?”

“No,” you say nervously.

“Ever wanted to?”

You prop your head up to speak more clearly, brows knotting.

“I’ve never really thought about it. Some of the porn I’ve watched has anal and I’m curious, I just need the right person.”

Will could easily think of the right person, it wasn’t him but his brother would jump at the chance.

“Do you mind if I…”

He circled his fingers.

“Just a little.”

There was no harm in trying, his fingers were oiled up as were you. His other hand rubbed your ass and opened you up.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You try to, you inhale and exhale, making each breath longer. You were pretty relaxed anyway but your muscles could easily work against you. Carefully, he pushed his forefinger, only the tip as you tightened around him.

A pained noise escapes you and he immediately pulled out.

“No good?”

You shake your head, “It felt a little weird.”

“It probably takes some getting used to.”

He clambered off the bed and into his bathroom, washing his hands before returning to you. Resting at your feet, he poured some more oil into his hands and wrapped them around your ankles. He rubs his thumbs and sweeps upwards, following the lines of your legs up to where your thighs meet your ass, listening to the sigh as your head falls forward.

When he finished with your back, Will got you to flip over.

He started with your hands, his thumb kneading into your palms and spreading the pressure over your wrists and up your arms.

You were getting hot under his touch, each accidental graze of his fingers on your breasts building the desire that was brooding in your belly. Your heartbeat was quickening and though you attempted to settle that building emotion, it wouldn’t slow. As his hands ran across your chest, thumbs over the bones of your décolletage, you whimper.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah,” your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

He leaned into you, his platinum whiskers rough against the skin of your cheek as he talks quietly into your ear.

“I’ll get there, don’t you worry.”

The words fell into your ear and your cunt clenched around nothing, the juices seeping from your opening.

The smirk on his face as he straightened back up said it all, he knew. He took the bottle again and trailed a tiny stream of oil between your breasts to your belly button. Spreading his palms over your stomach, he rubs over the centre, outward and over your hips, fingers teasing along the line of your pubic hair.

Closing your eyes, you lift your arms over your head, opening your upper half to him.

He responds in kind, dragging his hands to your chest, scooping up the oil as he passes. Drawing circles with his fingertips, he watches as you arch to the sensation, neck stretching and glimmering as fractions of light hit the glitter on your skin. He drops his hands and cups your breast, squeezing gently, pushing them up as his thumbs go over your nipples.

Your breath hitches, a strangled groan as your nipples grow puffy.

Will continues to play with them, squeezing harder, pinching them in between his fingers to hear more of your sweet sounds of pleasure that you struggled to contain.

“So fucking sensitive.”

All you can do is nod enthusiastically, unable to comprehend words.

You shudder when he tweaks at your nipples, pulling until they slip out of his slicked hands.

His eyes flick up and down your frame, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Resting back on his heels, he rolls his shoulders back, a single finger stroking the inside of your one thigh.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

He raises his eyebrows playfully, his free hand pressing against your other knee and gently opening you wider.

Then he stopped and the wait was torturous. His expression was unreadable but his mind was figuring out the next step before he balanced over you, chest hovering centimetres from your face. He was doing this on purpose, he must be. Reaching for a pillow, he took the plump furnishing and returned to his previous position.

“Ass up.”

You thrust your hips of the bed, “Not getting enough of a view?”

“No,” he tucked the pillow under your ass and let you drop back. “You weren’t quite at the right angle.”

He couldn’t help smiling at your confused expression.

He pushed your legs further apart, your pussy glistening up to him. Twisting his palms to your inner thighs, he ran them up from your ass and passed your folds, just missing your clit. The shiver travels quickly up your spine, the gasp throwing your head back.

He chuckled, “I barely touched you.”

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

This is going to be fun, Will thought.

He trailed two fingers down your chest, your belly and over your perfectly trimmed bikini line, separating them to run in between your lips. Gathering your juices in his digits, he pressed a little harder as he moved up and down.

You whine, already feeling the tingle dancing across your nerves.

Your hands flex, nails catching in the sheets as you clamp your lips together, attempting to stop the noises.

Taking your inner lips in his thumb and index finger, he rubs and watches as your toes curl, subtle twitches starting in your legs. He’s never had a girl fall apart like you, it usually took so long, took hard work and more than just his fingers. He kept playing with you, switching from individual fingers to his hand and back again. Grazing your clit once or twice, he saw the pearl swell and brighten in colour.

Your bottom half was shaking uncontrollably.

He hooked two fingers into your entrance.

Instinctively, you snatched his wrist, legs clamping shut and holding him like a bear trap.

“Fuck, Will, stop, stop, stop.”

The wave washed over you, the surge of an orgasm rolling through your hips and you choked a breath. He held himself steady and waited patiently for the sensation to pass, waited for you to come back to him.

You blinked up at the ceiling, muscles loosening and he carefully guided you apart.

“More?”

You nod but feel the pinch of his fingers in your walls, your arousal seeping through them.

“More?”

“Yes,” you squeaked.

Languidly, he pumps in and out of you, ensuring you feel every graze of his fingertips against your squelching cunt. You cover your face with your arms, his constant gaze burning at your skin, chest flushing as the heat rises.

His thumb flexes, pushing the hood of your clit as he circles it in a matching rhythm.

Yet the pleasure was already building.

His free hand comes along your side, trying to soothe you. It’s so light, your body so reactive that it shivers under his touch. The sound of his voice breaks through the fog and you swear you’re seeing stars against the shadow of your limbs.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s ok, just let it take you.”

You shake your head, “It’s too much.”

“We’re going to work through that. It’s going to be fucking phenomenal if you let me get you there.”

Every instinct was to fight him.

You squirmed, hands clawing the fabric beneath you to stop yourself from slapping his arms and chest, every joint locking. This sensation was different than earlier, it was overwhelming all of your senses, nothing but the sound of pumping blood rushing to your ears, sweat clinging to your skin. It was utterly tantalising yet you were somewhat terrified of the outcome, is this what the old stories have talked about, the ones where people of history have died during orgasm?

His fingers hit the spot and you entered complete bliss.

You’re pretty sure your brain shut down, not fully remembering what happened. The sentences were broken though he sung his praises, you could hear the smile on his lips and liquid. You didn’t question where is was coming from until you realised it was settling under your ass and it was your juices gushing.

You shoot up.

“Oh my god, Will,” you clamp your together and holding your arousal in. “I’m sorry, fuck.”

Will pulled out his hand, slipping seamlessly out of your grip.

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” he leant back, inspecting you.

You were the literal description of a hot mess, hair mussed, skin dewey and oily but a completely euphoric look on your face. Then he cocked his head to one side, eyes searching for something else.

“You’ve never squirted before have you?”

You pierced your lips and shook your head feebly.

“Honestly… I didn’t think I could.”

In all your sexual history, it had never happened, saying that not one lover had even tried to work you that hard, it was usually just a small amount of foreplay and then onto the ‘best’ part. After Frankie the first week and an hour long massage from Will, this outcome shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Not everyone can.”

Your cheeks set on fire.

Shuffling nearer your frame, he wrapped an arm around you, caressing your back. With his free hand, he cupped your chin, bringing your full attention to him.

“Did you enjoy it though?”

“Yeah,” you say in a sigh.

“Yeah? Good.”

He kissed your lips, deepening as you relaxed under his weight. The moment was fleeting however as he rested back on his elbows.

“And to think, I didn’t even use my tongue.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Is that a threat?”

He playfully swatted your pussy and the last of your juices flowed out as you yelped but that’s just where it began.

Will used everything in his arsenal to rip the orgasms from you, his mouth, his tongue, his cock and at some point, he pulled a toy from his magic hat. He brought you to the edge and back before he allowed you to free fall. You whined and moaned, begged and screamed his name until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

You lay heaving, barely able to fill your lungs with enough air as you settle into what you hope is your final comedown. The mattress was engulfing you as your weight sank further and further. Looking up at him bleary eyed, you focus on what you can, the single bead of sweat rolling down his abdomen, the shin of your arousal on his chin.

Yeah, if you were going to die here, you were pretty fucking happy.

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gosmigenergy · 4 months

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FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS / Maxwell Lord (Lorenzano) x F! Reader

Summary: Celebrating Christmas for the first time with Maxwell.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mostly holiday fluff but turns explicit, holiday stress, mentions of family, mentions of Christmases alone, mentions of food, drinking, sixty-nine dude, oral - male receiving, oral - female receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), language, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 5.9k

Author’s Notes: I did plan on making some continuous fics about Bunny and the Boys but I work in retail, have just come back from Iceland (panini delayed holiday) and I’m going to Norway to visit my sister over Christmas. When I was considering what to do because I really wanted to post something, I found this unfinished Maxwell Lorenzano seasonal story hidden away on my computer.

Anyway, enjoy!

You normally loved the season, you basked in multicoloured lights, engulfed by the smell of roasting chestnuts, ears ringing with the constant playing of hymns and cheesy pop songs.

However this was the first year you and Maxwell chose to celebrate Christmas, with him came Alistair and with him came the pressure of presents. For Maxwell, they had to be perfect even though he wasn’t loaded with fake Black Gold money, he had to give his son what he never had, the one gift every kid was asking for.

The Ghostbusters Firehouse was proving to be one of the most desired toys of the season, it had been since Halloween.

Alistair had dressed as one for the school disco, you’d found a jumpsuit and dyed it brown, found an embroiderer who made the name tag and spent hours building a Proton Pack from cardboard boxes. All that effort was worth it, to see that kid running up the steps with several other Ghostbusters in similar attire, be it triple the price.

“I love you,” Maxwell said, beaming with a lopsided grin and tears framing his eyes.

In that moment, you felt a warmth that you’d never quite felt before, one that was reflective of a proud parent.

You didn’t feel that right now.

After hours of following the herd, going into what felt like every toy shop in DC and coming out empty handed each time, you broke.

“Alistair is back in two and a half hours, I just want to go home,” you cried. You were literally crying on a bench, cheeks hot with the freezing air.

Maxwell’s smile had disappeared long ago, replaced with a straight line.

“Fine.”

He huffed into the space next to you.

The bus ride home was quiet, Maxwell keeping his emotions to himself, his grip tight on the shopping bags. You’re grateful as the tension seemed to drop a little when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Please talk to me.”

The pair of you had finally stripped yourselves of your winter accessories and coats, abandoning the gifts in your bedroom to stop prying eyes, yet neither of you had said a word.

“What’s there to talk about? I’m a shit father who couldn’t get a present for his son.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Maxwell Lorenzano,” you walk to him and place your hands on his cheeks so he couldn’t look away. “You are not a shit father.”

His deep brown eyes glossed, his chin crinkling as he tried to stop himself from having an absolute meltdown.

“I can’t even get my kid the one toy he wants, what am I going to do?

“What are we going to do? I’m not letting you blame yourself for this. This is companies exploiting Christmas, making people feel shit for things out of their control.”

“Don’t you love Christmas?”

“Yeah but not this. Not making a father feel guilty for not getting his son a toy, that’s not what this is about. I love everything around that, the delight of snow and the rush of having to get outside. The warmth of a hot chocolate settling in your stomach, nights on the couch wrapped in copious amounts of blankets with It’s a Wonderful Life on the tv…”

Your heart twinges.

“The smile on the face of someone you love getting something unexpected, the voice on the other end of the phone as you wish them happy holidays.”

That’s what it always was for you. Your family far away, you unable to afford to get home.

“Mi amour.”

Maxwell brought a thumb to your cheek and caught the tear that had escaped.

You sigh, “It’s just been a long day.”

“I know.”

He pulled you close, resting his slopping nose on top of your head, breathing you in. You hold each other for a fragile moment.

“I need to go and have a think, ok?”

He kissed your forehead.

You nod before looking around your shrinking space, somehow the apartment the three of you shared was getting smaller.

“I’ll get this place in order before Alistair arrives and start on dinner.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He walked away almost defeated.

“Hey, you better not go in there and make some elaborate plan to make everyone’s deepest desires come true.”

“That was one time.”

You giggle.

A while later, the knock at the door interrupts your flow but you couldn’t stay mad for long when that wide smile greets you.

“Max, Alistair’s here!”

You’re almost knocked back as he throws himself at your legs and in for a hug, you squeeze his head to save yourself from falling.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“How was your mom?”

You didn’t really care, you were just making pleasantries to try and pretend you didn’t find the woman absolutely insufferable. When he lets go and gives you a shrug, you take the hint.

Ok, you mouthed.

“Alistair,” Maxwell appeared, his smile matching his son’s as he fell to his knees to embrace him enthusiastically. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“Me too, mom said she wants to talk to you, she’s downstairs.”

“Alright, why don’t you help with dinner?”

“Ok!”

Alistair ran to the kitchen.

You guessed what this might be, the exchange of presents from ‘Santa’ as discussed between them. Alistair was going to be away from his mother for the holidays, not that either of them seemed to mind. You and Maxwell would have him until New Year so you had plenty planned.

“I’m sure you can keep him distracted for a while.”

“Of course,” you winked.

---

“Why is your tree so small?”

Alistair cocked his head to the artificial tree placed on a side table next to the television.

“Oh, I got that tree when I first moved to DC. I couldn’t afford much but I was desperate for some sort of Christmas decoration and there it was, last on the shelf at Goodwill.”

“Were you on your own that Christmas?”

“Yeah, my family were all back home.”

“Have you ever been back?”

“No, I’ve never had the chance. Though I’ve had loads of good Christmases here with friends and neighbours, Mrs Zonana gave me the biggest chocolate log you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?! Do you think she’ll make one for the party?”

“I’m sure she will.”

“Have you ever wanted a big tree? Mom had one that almost reached the ceiling.”

You shrug, “I’ve never thought about it, it’s just been me but, yeah, I guess something a little bigger would be nice.”

“And colourful lights for the window?”

The more he inquired, the more excitable he became and your smile grows.

“Colourful lights would be good too.”

“How’s everything going in here?”

Maxwell wrapped his hands around your waist, the chill prominent from his trip outside. He rested his chin on your shoulder and looked down at the carnage of flour, butter and cheese, Alistair’s hands coated in the ingredients.

“It’s gonna be later than expected.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

---

“Can I just sleep here tonight?”

Alistair’s eyes were heavy, belly full from dinner and his body warm from a combination of flannel pyjamas and a fleece blanket.

“No, we all need to go to bed.”

Maxwell was the only one moving, he’d cleaned up and offered to make special hot chocolates, two of which would feature alcohol. He handed his son a mug brimming with whipped cream and marshmallows.

“But it’s comfy here,” he moaned.

“I can’t disagree with him.”

You were stretched on the couch, waiting for Maxwell to return to fill the space he left behind. He was your headrest, allowed you to snuggle within the crook of his arm and listen to his heart beat slowly. Once he was back, you were asleep for sure.

“Everyone is going to bed,” he reiterated.

He remembered the last time the pair of you fell asleep on the couch, his cricked neck played up for almost a week.

“Boooo.”

“Careful you two or Santa won’t bring you presents.”

Alistair laughed.

“Oh dad, Santa isn’t real.”

“What makes you say that?”

You try to deflect, Maxwell was hoping for another year of illusion at least.

“Jake told me.”

Curse you, Jake.

“Well, it’s not that he’s not real, it’s more that you’re old enough to allow Santa to bring joy to another kid. He’ll make sure this year’s extra special, I’m sure of it.”

His expression scrunched, “That sounds rubbish.”

“Oh no,” Maxwell shook his head, “it’s very true.”

Alistair’s eyes flitted between both of you and you knew the game, keep a straight face just long enough for him to believe you.

“That’s cool.”

He continued to watch the Christmas special on the tv. Maxwell handed you your hot chocolate and slipped into his spot. He let you settle back before leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

His words were soft, “Thank you, baby.”

You had gone to check on Alistair one last time before heading to bed.

“He’s out of it.”

Maxwell was already cosy under the duvet, glasses on as he read a battered copy of A Christmas Carol. Closing the door gently, you tiptoed across the room and slide into the other side, resting your fuzzy head on the pillow.

“How are you not dizzy reading after that drink?”

“Because I didn’t put an extra shot in mine.”

“Max!”

“What? You deserved it.”

You huff, you can’t stay mad at his stupid face, his wide toothy smile looking down on you.

“How did it go… with the present swap?”

He put his book down, “Fine.”

Maxwell was a man of little words when it came to his ex wife.

“You know you told Alistair that white lie about Santa Claus? Well, lucky for us, she managed to get that firehouse.”

“Of course,” you scoff.

The moment Maxwell lost his ‘wealth’, his then wife dropped him for someone who could pay the lifestyle she was after.

“Paid triple the amount for it.”

You let out a singular laugh.

“At least Alistair will be happy.”

“Do you think he’ll like what we got him?”

“Why do you ask?”

Maxwell’s brows furrowed, maybe he did make a mistake putting another measure of Irish cream in your hot chocolate.

“He knows we’re not necessarily as well off as his mom but I don’t want him thinking that we don’t love him as much because we can’t give him that.”

“Alistair knows we love him, maybe even more than his mother does.”

“We got him underwear,” you throw your arms up as you spoke.

“He needs new ones.”

“I know he does but we’re giving them as a present.”

“I was very happy when I got underwear one year.”

“You’re lucky to have a kid like him.”

“I’m lucky to have you too,” he said, cuddling closer. “Not every girlfriend would go from toy store to toy store trying to get a present for a kid that isn’t theirs.”

“You both mean the world to me.”

“And you’re everything to us.”

He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat seer through his palm before his lips met yours.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You can’t remember falling asleep, only Maxwell gently shaking you awake. In your groggy state, you could sense it was still dark out yet you rolled over to see him fully dressed.

“Alistair and I are heading out,” he whispered. “He forgot to get a present for his friend.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

“No, don’t get up. Have some time to yourself, ok baby? We might be a while.”

“Ok,” you immediately roll back over.

No offence to Maxwell but it was way too early and you were far too hungover to kick up a fuss, he told you to stay and you wouldn’t put up a fight about it.

The phone started to ring the moment you stepped out of the shower.

After a lie-in, you visited Mrs Zonana ahead of her Christmas party, hosted every year in the apartment complex’s courtyard. You offered to help in some way and after much persuasion, she had you and another neighbour putting up the gazebo and decorations. Then you got back and knocked up some cookies for the evening before getting ready.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“How’s your day going, Max?”

He groaned, “It’s gone fine but we’re running late, we’re waiting for the next bus. Do you mind if we meet you at Mrs Zonana’s?”

“Not at all, can’t promise there’ll be any food left.”

“It’s Mrs Zonana, she’ll save us a plate.”

You hum sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it, she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, “Am I being replaced?”

“Of course not,” the phone crackled, “I’ve got to go, love you.”

He hung up before you got the chance to reply.

When you finally made it downstairs, the outside was already buzzing. You made your way through the throng of your neighbours, stating you’d catch up later before reaching Mrs Zonana.

“Oh, I’ll make the boys their plates and keep them warm in the oven.”

“You don’t have to, they’re the ones running late.”

She battered you with a tea towel, which you were unable to decipher whether it was meant to be playful or if she really did want it to hurt.

“Sorry we’re late!”

Everyone practically cheered at Maxwell and Alistair’s arrival. You swiftly apologise to Nico to ensure you got to them first.

“Finally! Where have you two been?”

You jokingly put your hand on your hip and pout, Alistair giggling at your phoney expression because you, of all people, were never mad.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not me you have to apologise to,” you smile wickedly as you sense Mrs Zonana’s presence.

“Alistair, come get yours and your father’s food.”

He runs away immediately.

“Did everything go ok?”

Maxwell hummed.

“You look exhausted.”

“I know but it’s all with a good intention.”

You rubbed your thumb along his cheek, warm in a rush to make it back, the faintest sensation of whiskers from lack of shaving.

“How have I not been greeted by my man yet?”

“Hola, Mrs Zonana.”

Maxwell slipped seamlessly into Spanish around her and you always prayed that they were saying kind words when your name popped up. You drew your attention to Alistair for a while and listened to him talk about his day with his father.

Occasionally, yours and Maxwell’s eyes would catch across the courtyard and you’d exchange the softest of smiles throughout the rest of the evening.

“I’m tired.”

Alistair was valiant in staying up, most of the other kids had gone to bed. He flopped onto the edge of the garden box with you and Maxwell, who had escaped another lecture on ancient artefacts from Mr Fennec.

“We should probably get you boys to bed, huh? It’s been a long day.”

They both groan, playfully collapsing their heads to your shoulders.

“Come on,” you ruffle Alistair’s hair.

After saying your goodbyes, the three of you strolled up to the apartment.

“I have never seen a boy this excited to go to bed,” you laugh.

Alistair had run ahead the moment you reached the walkway. Maxwell brought you closer, locked an arm around your waist and breathed you in.

“Don’t think I can blame him.”

The holidays were always tiring even when you were on your lonesome, you were always invited somewhere with someone and keeping up appearances was the norm. You spent years coming back, crashing onto the mattress before getting up to do the whole thing all over again. It was nice that the building party was the only real big deal this year.

Maxwell chose to do his office party by himself because why would you want to be surrounded by drunk, obnoxious salesmen for the evening? You were better off with Alistair baking cookies, watching a film and secretly helping him wrap presents for his father. Then Alistair’s mom took him to the school party and to meet Santa, attending the Christmas light switch on was the one event you happily obliged.

“Why are you taking so long?”

“Because we’re old,” Maxwell shouted as he and you approached.

“Did you hang mistletoe on the door?”

Your inquiry was met with a shrug.

“You do realise that I don’t need a Christmas tradition for an excuse to kiss you?”

“Ew,” Alistair fake barfed.

Maxwell rummaged to find the key in his pocket, refusing to let go of you. Alistair snatched it out of his hand as soon as it reemerged. Maxwell’s hand came to your jaw and gently, he eased you to face him. He stared at you with his brown puppy dog eyes, bringing his other hand to meet your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we be under the mistletoe?”

His face was illuminated by an orange glow as Alistair made his way inside.

“Too much effort,” he smiled before clashing your lips together.

It could be because he’s tired or the alcohol or the fact he was trying to make the kiss more of a pantomime for his son to endure but Maxwell was messy. He practically pinned your face to his with both hands, slipping his tongue passed your lips sloppily, forcing your body to turn backwards to the door.

You gasped for air when he finished.

“I like the enthusiasm.”

You take a couple of steps back to see his expression soften, he knew what he’d done, chose not to say anything.

Then you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Wait, that wasn’t there when I left.

And suddenly the room seemed to fill with pinpricks of every colour.

“Merry Christmas!”

Alistair leapt from behind you and slowly, inch by inch, you took everything in. You didn’t utter a word, couldn’t even scream as your chest began to heave.

The tiny desk tree had been replaced with one triple the size, overloaded with baubles. Every wall was lined with string lights, the kitchen sill decorated with ornaments and tinsel and the focal point, three stockings hanging from the breakfast bar, embroidered with golden letters.

“Do you like it?”

You fall to your knees and squeeze Alistair hard. You put every ounce you had in you to hug that boy and kissed his head multiple times.

“I love it, Alistair, I love it so much,” your voice cracked.

“You’re crying.”

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” the words were catching in your throat.

“Let me take your coat, baby, Alistair’s got more to show you.”

“There’s more?”

Alistair was beaming up at you, nodding passionately.

Maxwell helped you pull yourself out of your coat, your body shaking as it failed to follow basic instruction. He trailed a hand down your spine as you attempted to get it together, wiping the tears that were already falling.

Taking your hand, Alistair showed you what else they’d done. The old tree had now taken pride of place at the end of the corridor between your rooms. There was more lights along the ceiling and the pictures on the walls had changed to winter scenes of snowfall, ice skating and carollers.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this just for me,” you smile, more tears forming.

“Well, I said about it to dad and he said he overheard us talking yesterday and felt like we should do something,” Alistair said. “Also I didn’t have any money and I couldn’t get up high so I needed some help.”

You couldn’t help hugging him again.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I’m going to remember this one forever.”

Alistair excitedly returned to Maxwell to pass on the good news. Of course you were going to love it, Maxwell knew you would. Luck aligned for him, there was still some money left in the budget you two had built, Mrs Zonana gave a hefty contribution and Suzanne from the other block let him and Alistair hide whilst they also played look out.

Plenty of people loved you more than you realised.

He automatically hugged you when you came back, “You good?”

“There aren’t any more surprises are there, I don’t think I can cope.”

“Not from me.”

You laugh into his chest, “Thank god.”

He ran a hand through your hair, squeezing you a little tighter before reluctantly letting you go.

“Can I have another one of those hot chocolates?”

“Sure.”

“And me,” Alistair chimed in, “please.”

The three of you rested on the couch, Alistair retelling the day and how each decoration came to be. It felt like your heart could burst, he was so overjoyed. Maxwell’s arm was draped firmly over your shoulder, chest rising and falling slowly as sleep tried to take him.

You knew you spent too long in the bathroom, you worried Maxwell may have fallen asleep before he even got chance to see your gift. It was a risk you were taking but you hoped it would pay off.

“Maxwell. Are you asleep?”

“Just resting my eyes,” his head lulled against the headboard.

“Oh because I was hoping I could give you one of your presents early.”

He opened one eye, “Really?”

You hum, fingertips playing with the tie on your fluffy dressing gown.

“Well, you’ve been such a good boy these past couple of days,” you pull open the knot, “and I think you deserve it.”

You shrug your shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor with a light thud. Maxwell’s head snapped up, both eyes wide with the delight of seeing you dressed in nothing more than a see-through babydoll in bright red, nothing left to the imagination. Your bush freshly trimmed and nipples pert.

His smile brought the dimples to his cheeks. He leaned forward, gesturing with both hands.

“Come here.”

You saunter to the edge of the bed and he moves to you fit perfectly between his legs. His hands run up the backs of your thighs, fingers burying into your ass as he pressed his forehead to your stomach, the refreshing scent of your favourite perfume catching in his nostrils. He moved his hands to your hips before looking up at you drunkenly.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

You hum, biting your lip sheepishly.

Whilst in the mall, deflated from toy shopping, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, leaving Maxwell amongst the other male shoppers in the seating area. As you walked, your eyes caught something in the window of a shop.

You only treated yourself to lingerie when it was a special occasion and after the day you two were having, it called for it.

Dress up wasn’t something you and Maxwell chose to do so, even though the enthusiastic sales assistant tried, you gravitated towards the little red number you wore tonight.

“I shouldn’t have got you tipsy last night, should I?”

You cup his face in your palms.

“It didn’t help.”

Brushing aside his stray hairs, you lean down and kiss him deeply, his back straightening to attention. You both part, catching your breaths.

“So, are you one of Santa’s naughty little elves or…”

Maybe you should have got the costume. You look at him, your eyelids low as the corner of your lips curled.

“I’d much rather be Mrs Claus.”

The smile grew back on his face.

“Now it’s time for you to go back to bed.”

Maxwell happily obliged. He made sure to look at the view in detail one more time before slipping his hands off you. Pushing back on the mattress, he rested on the pillow, hands tucked behind his head.

“Are you coming to tuck me in?”

You climb on the bed and crawl over his body, your index finger trailing along his underwear where his hardening cock was becoming visible.

“Not until…”

Your faces meet and he waits in anticipation for your next line, it doesn’t come easily. You think of all the seasonal puns but they’re all ridiculous - candy cane, north or south pole, Christmas has cum early?

He breaks first, a singular laugh ruining any chance of you being a seductive Mrs Claus.

“Hard to keep up the charade?”

“Yeah,” your expression scrunches. “I don’t think ‘not getting rid of your south pole’ does what I want it to do.”

He snorts at the terminology.

“Want me to take the rein?”

You thought he was going to make some sort of sleigh ride joke but nothing came after. He calmly brushed the hair from your face, breathing and heartbeat steady, his expression soft. Maxwell didn’t usually take control but this time, he seemed so sure.

“Ok.”

Then something changed, his pupils blew a dark black.

“Turn around.”

You listened, swapping your legs over each side. His hands travel up your legs before they claw your ass apart and you instinctively arch your back to offer him a better view. His cock twitched beneath the cotton fabric.

“Wet as always.”

“Always for you.”

He hummed, glad you were facing the other way round because he could feel the temperature rise in his cheeks.

You kiss the skin above the waistband of his underwear then lick in one motion, sending a shiver along Maxwell’s spine. He returns the favour, kissing the creases that joined your legs to your butt before spreading his tongue over your folds.

You shudder, leaning back further to try and catch the tip of his nose.

He knew exactly what you were doing, “Behave.”

You grumble, pouting your lips as you glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t see much past the sight of your ass but you caught each other’s eye.

Your fingers play with the elastic before you gradually peel his underwear off, inspecting his throbbing bright tip, precum glistening. To behave would be to not take the top in your mouth and spread your tongue over but you were going to get him back for his little remark, that and you were hungry for him. Dampening your lips, you took Maxwell in your mouth, rewarded with his lengthily moan.

“Oh fuck,” he says as you take him further, “you are not behaving.”

He felt your soft laugh against him, the vibrations pleasing enough to have him creeping closer to the edge.

There was only one way to play this game.

Swallowing hard, he spreads you wider before teasing you along your outer lips, soothing with his tongue after a gentle nip. You breath with a sigh and just as he gets you into a false sense of security, he buries himself into your weeping cunt.

You pull up, Maxwell’s cock falling with a slap to his navel as you gasp and whimper.

“Put me back in your mouth, baby, I don’t want you waking up Alistair.”

You massage his balls lightly and the air hisses through his teeth, he was going to blow if you weren’t careful.

“And what about you?”

Maxwell was the most vocal lover you’d encountered. He didn’t respond, returning to your cunt with more finesse, his tongue working against your blooming clit.

You let out a choked whine before wrapping your lips around his tip and sweeping around with your tongue. You felt his groan run through every nerve ending, your walls clamping round him. Slowly you took his length into your throat and back up again, picking up the pace according to his movements.

You couldn’t tell how long the pair of you were locked like this, in this pure unadulterated bliss.

He only came up for air to sing your praises and for his final admittance, “I’m so close, baby.”

You already knew that.

His hips had bucked a few times to get his cock further into that little throat of yours, the sound of you gagging sweeter than any music. His body was tensing, his grip on your hips making them numb, he was forcing himself not to cum out of the want of making you cum first.

“This is your treat, Maxwell,” you say after releasing his cock with a pop. “How do you want me?”

“I want to watch you bounce on my dick until we both cum.”

You smile coyly, turning yourself to face him, “Now that’s some Christmas magic I can do.”

Straddling his hips, you kiss him squarely on the lips and force him to lay with his back firmly on the mattress. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you taste the tang of your arousal before pulling back, teeth nipping his bottom lip.

You lift yourself up, taking his cock in your hand as you line it up with your entrance. Eyes focusing on him, you slowly sink down, Maxwell releasing a choked gasp when just his tip slides between your folds.

His eyes flick up and down your frame as his palms trail your thighs, encouraging you to take his length.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you lower yourself, a soft hum as he fills you. His cock twitches, his head falling back, eyelashes fluttering shut as you held steady.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

You sit for a minute, inner walls pulsing as your aching pussy readjusts to the stretch of his girth. All this time together and you still hadn’t gotten used to how heavy his cock was. He feels fingertips grazing the skin of his chest and opens his eyes. You’re gazing down at him, eyelids low but he could still catch the glint in your eye.

“I thought you wanted to watch.”

Oh, he did but he fucking adored how you felt around him, he could stay like this all night if you allowed him. But you started to raise your hips, your other hand lifting the fabric to your waist so he could see the drag of your folds.

He groaned, not too loud yet not too soft, just enough for it to hit your ears.

“Like that?”

You tease as you drop back down, knocking the air out of his lungs. He can’t answer, can barely move his head because his mind is solely on your pussy around his cock. You gradually begin to pick up the pace when your legs stop protesting, the slap of your skin against his getting stronger, his fingers digging further into the flesh of you.

A squeaking moan escapes you every time you bounce from him, lips sealed together as you try to keep the volume down. You can still hear Maxwell, his hushed praises blending into his second language, his throat bulging as he tries to contain his grunts and groans.

Your walls were tightening, your hips stuttering when the tip of his cock hit somewhere new as you rolled your pelvis forward. His lips crashed into yours, swallowing the honeyed groan that came deep from your chest. He held you in place, your legs shaking with anticipation.

You could feel your arousal spilling between your thighs, preparing you for the final chase, the spark igniting low in your belly.

Maxwell coiled his arms around your waist, removing his lips from yours as he nudged his nose against your cheek. You catch your breath, fingers drawing circles over his shoulder blades before you finally looked in his big brown eyes. Always soft and sincere even though you were about to ruin him, he would happily take it.

You kiss his lips, palms moving to settle on either side of his neck. Lifting your ass a little, you let him shuffle his legs closer to boost you up before you rolled your hips.

A moan escapes you as your clit grazes the hairs above his cock. He sighs, lips parting as he focuses on your movements, your walls twitching around his aching cock. His broad palms fall from your waist and over the curve of your ass, fingers sinking into the muscle as he guides you up his length.

“That’s it,” he says breathily.

And when you get going again, you feel the tingle as it dances along your skin, your belly warming. Maxwell’s hands following as you bounce, legs locking beneath your weight.

Both of your hot and heavy breaths trickle down your flushed chest, his soft grunts seeping into your ears. Your hands trail over his outline, the shiver shooting up his spine as your fingertips tease.

His head fell forward and you pulled him close to your body, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. Keeping on hand on his back, you draw the other to his hair, the colour no longer a fake blonde. Your fingers delve into his thick roots and tug gently, the noise he makes having you close your eyes, riding his cock as fast as your ceasing legs would allow.

His hands grip tighter, his tongue so loose he can barely get the words out to warn you as his balls recede and he coats your walls. He manages to hold you down as you hiss through your teeth, body trembling as your own orgasm surges through your body.

“Shit, Max,” you choke.

Your cunt pulsates, milking him for every last drop before your muscles relax. He groans your name passionately, his body going limp, back hitting the mattress with a loud exhale.

You keep your eyes closed, your hand reaching for his chest as it rose, filling the lungs with much needed oxygen. Your legs shudder with an aftershock, his hand coming to your wrist. You blink, the room coming into focus and you catch his lopsided grin as he gazed up at you in a blissed out state.

“Best present a guy could ask for,” he chuckles.

You giggle, brushing the hair from your face with your free hand. Lifting your hips, you slide off his cock, thick white cum dribbling from your folds before you crawled up the bed to settle next to him.

He snakes an arm under your neck, across your shoulders to draw you closer to his chest. You snuggle to his frame, draping a leg in between his, hand fixed to his chest as his heartbeat slowed.

Glancing up, his eyes are already closed. You knew he was exhausted, all the rushing around, trying to give everyone the best Christmas, making up for all the ones he’d missed. All you wanted to do was tell him he didn’t have to but he wouldn’t listen.

Maxwell wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he came to in the morning, your side of the bed was empty. He could hear life outside of the door, the faint strip of sunlight breaking through the curtains. Stretching, he tried to find his t-shirt before guessing you borrowed it when Alistair came to wake someone.

In the now cramped living room, he saw you and Alistair on the couch, huddled under a blanket with mugs in your hands. The pair of you had soft smiles and were whispering to one another, you attempting to understand what was happening on the kids show you were watching. A few more presents had made an appearance under the tree, sugar cookies filling a plate on the coffee table.

“Morning,” his voice sounded groggy, vocal cords not quite ready to talk.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning, coffee’s fresh if you want some.”

Your smile grows at his arrival before he comes down and kisses you. He continues to watch you both while he wanders round the kitchen, semi listening to what was happening on the tv. Returning with a mug of coffee, Maxwell leans over and grabs a handful of cookies, met with a little groan from Alistair who had to tilt sideways to see the screen.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers before sitting down.

You wriggle to make room as he slumps into his usual spot. After he’s got comfy, you nestle back against him and he drapes an arm over your shoulder. His lips come to the crown of your head.

“You ok?”

“Perfect,” he strokes your cheek as you drop your head back. “Feels like Christmas.”

#ww84 #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lorenzano #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord ww84 #pedro pascal fanfiction #smut #one shot #it's christmas

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gosmigenergy · 5 months

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A Pedro representation of when I don't know how to respond to such lovely comments, thank you 🥹

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Three

RIMMING / FINGERING/HANDJOB / DRY HUMPING

(Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader)

Summary: It's Day 03 of @absurdthirst's Kinktober! Frankie becomes the first of the four boys to have you for the evening.

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Mention of food, drinking, language, light spanking, fingering, choking, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.4k

Frankie thought it must have been a fluke.

With the way everything was going at the moment, juggling fatherhood, jumping through hoops to get his license back, the rehabilitation, he needed a break. All the boys started arguing about who got you first, Santiago thought it should be him because he suggested the whole thing, Benny thought it should be him because he never had the initial meeting. Him and Will just wanted you and that was enough to get them riled up.

It was childish to pull straws but he couldn’t complain with the outcome.

For the first time ever, Frankie had come first.

He wasn’t ever a man who would go big, there wasn’t going to be a fancy restaurant or flowers though he knew how to cook a damn good meal. Of course, he’d blitz his place clean, packed away the majority of the kids toys from view, changed the sheets. He dressed the table as best he could, stuck on the lamps to get some ambience before chewing his lip over the set up.

The knock interrupted his train of thought.

You’re behind the door, smoothing out your dress when it swings open. Startled, you compose yourself with a smile and Francisco’s expression softens.

“Hey,” his voice cracks.

“Hey.”

He steps back and lets you in, you bump his hip as you pass.

“Well, ain’t you a lucky boy.”

His head drops as he laughs, scratching his scalp.

“Guess I am, yeah.”

Your eyes fall to the tea towel thrown over his shoulder, your hand stretches and you gently pick up the corner.

“Are you making me dinner?”

He looks back to you, eyes big, “It’s nothing special.”

The smell of his cooking reached your nostrils.

“Whatever it is, it smells delicious.”

You watch his shoulders relax, his breath finally releasing.

He hated that he was this nervous, it’s been a while since he’s tried to impress a lady and he’d admit he wasn’t the best at it. Sometimes he came off a little cold, it took him a while to warm up to someone and though your first meeting was brief, you melted him quicker than usual.

“I’ll admit being skilful with my hands has it’s perks.”

You hum, “You better put those to good use later.”

Frankie feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the shiver running down his spine, he’d make sure to hold you to it.

He cleared his throat, “How do you like your steak?”

“Medium well.”

You didn’t know what he thought to that, he just nodded and moved towards the kitchen.

Settling onto his dining table, he handed you a beer from the fridge, apologising at his lack of wine. He didn’t seem like the type to have a bottle stashed away, saying that, he didn’t seem like the type to have a soft patterned shirt in his wardrobe yet he did. He even went to the effort of protecting it with an apron when he started to fry the meat.

Watching Frankie was like seeing a cookery show live, he was perfectly juggling the food in the oven and on the hob, barely breaking a sweat. He chucks a wedge of butter into the frying pan, tilting the pan towards him as he throws spoonfuls over the steak. You try to remember the name of the technique but his smooth wrist action is distracting.

This meal was more than special.

The plate in front of you was beautiful, a sliced steak coated in garlic butter with a perfect cube of dauphinoise potatoes and greens. You questioned where to start, your mouth watering as the fork in your hand floated until you finally made a decision.

“Oh my god, Frankie,” your voice was muffled from the meat falling apart effortlessly in your mouth.

“Good?”

You nodded, already stabbing more onto your cutlery.

After cleaning up, Frankie found you sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed with a hand rubbing over your stomach. He considered pressing the cold beer glass to your bare skin but decided against it, maybe another time.

“You better not be falling asleep on me,” he huffed.

You open one eye, “Just resting my eyes.”

He shakes the bottles in his hand and you scramble to straighten up, leaning over the back of the sofa to take one.

“Thought I’d stick on a movie.”

The corner of your lips curl, he didn’t quite say watch.

“Sure.”

He flopped to the sofa, opening his body up for you to come closer. You shuffle, bringing your knees to your chest before snuggling into his frame. Unlike the others, he was softer, his physique not the same as it once was though all you could think about was getting that shirt off. Your free hand stroked his chest.

The pair of you settled further into the sofa, the film Frankie chose nothing new so you mostly sat and talked.

Frankie listened to you as you rambled, an arm gently hugging you closer, a broad hand laying on your thigh. His eyes roamed your face as you talked, catching the lines that appeared when you laughed, how your eyes glistened even in the soft light.

“I’m sorry, Frankie, I feel like I’m talking you to death.”

He blinked, wondering how much time had passed for you to say that.

“Not at all,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “I prefer to listen.”

His hand had unconsciously moved further up your leg, fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

“Did you have something else in mind?”

He laughed, “I’m not quite as smooth as the others.”

You smile, brushing your hand over his patchy beard, fingernails catching in his whiskers. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip. It’s like you could read his mind, you spread your legs just enough for him to slip a hand in between.

His breath runs ragged when a fingertip grazes your soaked underwear.

“Fuck me,” he sighs.

Your teeth sink into your lip before he looks at you, eyes darker than usual. Your cunt twitches, your arousal dampening the fabric more.

He smirks.

“Stand up and take your panties off.”

His tone was stern, completely different in manner than usual. You find yourself following his order immediately. Hiking up your dress, he hungrily watches as you hook each side of your underwear with your thumbs and slip them seamlessly to your ankles.

Closing his legs, he wraps each hand behind your knees and draws you to him. You straddle him, his palms warm against your skin as he roams your thighs. He continues up, palming the plumpness of your ass, his mouth slightly agape, eyes still meeting yours.

There’s a quick slap against your butt cheek, a little yelp escaping your mouth. His expression remains unchanged, hand soothing the patch before he did it again. This time, you bite your lip, stifling your giggle as your inner walls clench.

His hands move back round, fingertips grazing the creases between your legs and hip.

You bunch your dress in your fists, displaying your wetness to Frankie, his eyes dropping to take a look. Your head tilts, attempting to view his expression.

With two fingers, he follows the line of your mound and brushes featherlight over your clit. He notes how the goosebumps raise to the surface, how your breath falls heavier. He draws his fingers up and down your inner lips, scooping the juices over your clit before applying more pressure.

You sigh, head falling back, elongating your neck. It was a temporary distraction, he’d sink his teeth into that later. He continues to circle the bundle of nerves, watching in adoration as you gradually unravel.

“Fuck, Frankie.”

It made him smile wider than he had in a while, the sweet sound of your whine as he stopped your hips from pushing deeper into his touch. He moved his two fingers lower, slipping them into your opening with ease. You moan as you feel them push between your folds, the digits stroking within.

Pumping in and out at a leisurely pace, Frankie rolls his wrist to ensure he touches as much of your walls as he can. Your eyelids flutter shut as your mouth relaxes, your breaths and moans overwhelming his senses, the television no longer audible.

The sweat was beginning to cling to your hairline, the knuckles that held onto your dress turning white. He felt your legs lock against his and with a free hand, he pressed a thumb to your clit. You choke, your features scrunching tight as you grab for him, one hand coiling around his wrist, the other to his shoulder.

He stops moving as you try to breathe.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”

You finally manage to speak.

Removing his thumb from your clit, he picks your head up to face him, drawing circles on your flushed cheeks.

“It’s ok, querida,” his smile had you melting. “I know you aren’t.”

Your single laugh was released in a staggered breath.

“Think you can take three?”

Three?

No one had ever really asked you before, you don’t think any of exes had tried. He feels your walls twitch, your arousal dripping down his fingers.

“Hold your dress up for me.”

The desire was heavy in your stomach, a warmth spreading through your entire body and tingling in your fingertips. Your hands shake through pure excitement as you bunch it a little higher than last time, your navel now on display.

Pulling his slick coated fingers out, your pussy squelches and you whined at the emptiness.

Frankie didn’t say another word, cementing another finger to the other two before guiding them to your entrance. Looking to you, he brushed his fingertips back and forth to which you gift him a feeble nod.

He’s careful, pushing his fingers to the first notch and analysing your face. You blink slowly, moving slightly to get yourself into a more comfortable position. He stops as you take a few more breaths then nod assuringly.

He carries on, watching as you stretch with ease, the sound of how wet you are reaching his ears. Your walls pulsate around his three digits, adjusting to the change in size. You release a honeyed moan as his knuckles reach your weeping cunt.

He gives you a chance to get used to the sensation.

There’s something more filling about having three fingers inside you. It’s like they’re managing to reach areas that have gone untouched only moments ago but your mind can’t process how.

You shiver as he pulls back to just the fingertips, humming when he carves his way back in.

It doesn’t take long for his once gentle motion to become rough, adding his thumb to nudge your clit. The noises you and your pussy are making are borderline obscene yet Frankie relished in them.

“Told you I was good with my hands, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” you choked. “Oh my fucking god, yes!”

The skin across your chest was burning, his hand that was holding onto your jawline loosening and moving along your throat. Your legs were shaking, vibrating your hips as he worked against the suction of your inner walls.

Frankie had already calculated his next move. He had grazed that sweet spot just enough times to know that when he sunk his fingers in, you’d cum. He applied light pressure to your neck and your whole body shuddered in response.

“You gonna come for me?”

You grunt, eyes closed but he needed to see them, he squeezed a little harder around your neck. Your eyes flutter open to see him looking at you intensely, eyes blown, lips now in a straight line.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Your tongue whips over your lips.

“Yes, Frankie,” you bring a hand to his wrist, coaxing him to tighten his grip on your throat. “Please let me cum for you, please.”

With the last thrust of his fingers, he brings them towards him and pushes on your g spot. At the same time, his hand takes more of a hold on your neck.

It sparks like a firework, igniting from low within your stomach before shooting up your spine until you’re screaming his name. Eyes snapping shut as the overwhelming pleasure takes over you. Your tense muscles go limp and your body drapes over Frankie’s.

His fingers loosen, holding steady inside you as your walls pulse around them. His other hand lets go of your throat and trails over your shoulder, running up and down your spine as you shudder from the aftershocks.

You breath him in, the scent of fading sandalwood against the crook of his neck, whiskers catching your hair.

“I’m gonna pull out, ok querida?”

He feels your head bob.

Taking his time, he slips his fingers from your cunt, the drag against your walls causing you to whine. What he does next surprises you, sinking two of his fingers into his mouth and sucks your juices off.

“You taste so fucking good.”

There’s a gristly tone in his voice that only brings your excitement bubbling back to the surface.

You push against his chest and look at him drunkenly. Taking his hand in your, you bring his fingers to your lips. Tentatively, your tongue licks the one fingertip he missed then you slowly swallow it whole.

Your tongue sweeps over his digit, your tang on your tastebuds. Sucking hard, you release it with a pop.

Frankie is dumbfounded.

You giggle, “What?”

The tips of his ears go pink.

“Nothing.”

If he wasn’t hard from watching you cum over his hand, he was now, feeling the strain on his jean’s zipper. And he knows you can feel it too, purposefully rocking your hips to hear him groan deep from his chest.

Your arms come over his shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his brown curls.

“How about, I go and get us another drink and you,” you purse your lips, your index finger running down his chest, “can take me to bed?”

With an outstretched arm, he pats around for the remote he threw away earlier, not taking his eyes off you. The living room gets a fraction darker, the television no longer emitting a blue glow and you wriggle to climb off him. You walk around the space with such confidence, it was like you’d lived here for months. Plucking two fresh bottles from the fridge, you slam the door shut with the sway of your hip.

And all he could do was watch you because for Frankie, he was the fucking luckiest guy in the world.

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gosmigenergy · 5 months

Text

My favs 💕

(Also spending most of my days catching up on fics I've missed over the years, I'm sorry)

a proposition

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader x Benjamin "Benny" Miller

Summary: Benny returns to Florida after six months of backpacking his way across Australia, and the surf and sun have treated him well. Very well.

You can't help but notice. ...Santiago thinks that maybe it's time for the two of you to change things up in the bedroom. Because if he's going to share you with anyone, it's most certainly going to be Benjamin Miller.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.2k

Content: NSFW, SMUT, porn with minimal plot, unprotected p in v, creampie, threesome, oral sex, anal sex, double penetration in one hole, double penetration in both holes, squirting, choking kink, size kink, cum eating, Dirt Music!Benny

“You want to fuck Benny,” Santi breathed into your ear, gently running his teeth down the side of your neck and pressing a chaste kiss to your collar bone.

“I…what?!” you managed to choke out as he slid another finger inside of you to meet the two that had been steadily stretching you open, languidly stroking your slick walls and brushing his thumb over your clit.

He chuckled, removing his digits from your core and roughly spitting into the palm of his hand, wiping it on his cock before sliding it through your wet folds. Gasping, your head rolled to the side, toes curling as the thick head of his erection pressed into your opening. Santi brought his hands down to lift your thighs, spreading your legs further apart, and he thrust himself in to the hilt, groaning at the rush of pleasure that thrummed through him as he buried himself inside of you.

Leaning down, he brought his mouth to yours, his lips like a brand as he kissed you roughly, posessively. Eager for more friction and simmering with anticipation, you bucked upward, urging Santiago to move. He made a noncommittal noise, bringing one hand to your hip to still your movements, and he cupped the side of your face with the other, pressing down on your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Baby, it’s okay. I know he wants to fuck you, too, and I don’t blame him,” Santi casually stated, voice low as he began to slide his cock in and out of your channel at a brutally slow pace.

“Santi…” you trailed off, panting and unsure of what else you intended to say.

His lips curved upward into a smile as he drug his cock out to rest at your damp entrance, and he murmured, “The things is, I also want him to fuck you,” before slamming back inside of you.

You cried out, unable to hide your reaction—the way your pussy pulsed and clenched down on his throbbing shaft, the way a fresh gush of arousal came pouring out of you, causing Santi’s hips to stutter for purchase as his cock slid along your drenched walls.

Santiago groaned huskily at the way you writhed under him, and he leaned down to tease one of your nipples with his mouth, which immediately stiffened under his touch. “Would you like that, hermosa? Would you like to feel Benny’s cock inside of you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered as your cunt began to ache, and Santi’s punishing thrusts grew faster and sloppier as he tracked the dazed expression that fell across your face. You dug your fingers into Santi’s back, wrapping your legs around his waist and greedily pulling him deeper inside of you.

“What if Benny and I both fucked you at the same time?” Santi grunted as he plunged in and out of you with reckless abandon.

You nearly choked on your own spit as the mental images came crashing into your mind—Benny’s large, callused hands exploring the curves of your body as you bounced on his cock, his plush lips devouring yours hungrily, Santiago’s dexterous hands working your other tight hole open from behind before sliding his hard shaft inside of you.

—both of your holes fucked out and wrecked, Benny and Santi’s cum dripping out of you in thick globs—

White-hot pleasure erupted through your body, a cry tumbling from your lips as your legs shook from the intensity of your orgasm, and Santiago followed shortly after, spilling his seed inside of you and collapsing at your side.

He pulled you close to him, pressing affectionate, feather-light kisses the side of your face, and he said matter-of-factly, “I hope you know I’m not joking.”

—-

It really did start out as a goddamn joke.

You’d known Santiago, Benny, Will, and Frankie for nearly ten years before the boys set off to South America on a suicide mission, one that they almost didn’t come back from. The taste of near-death still fresh in the back of his throat, Santi found his way to your doorstep upon his return, a decade’s worth of buried feelings and long-ignored mutual attraction finally pouring out.

A year after that, Santi woke up tangled in the sheets beside you, a determined look in his eyes as he roused you from sleep. Your heart had sunk immediately as you pulled yourself into a sitting position, your legs tucked inside of his faded Metallica shirt, thumbing the small, scattered holes and tears along the hem. He was ready to go back and get the money they had left behind. While the prospect of the mission left you a worried wreck, they made it out in one piece, coming home far richer than any of them could have ever imagined.

The boys opted to invest their split fortune in various ways, with one of Santi’s ideas being to relocate from your humble, dated apartment to a cozy, open-concept condo on the beach. Meanwhile, Frankie explored a new business venture, and Will finally had the means to pursue a program for veterans that he had been trying to get off the ground for years. As for Benny, he surprisingly didn’t hightail it to the nearest car dealership to buy the Ferrari that he hadn’t stopped talking about. Instead, seemingly inspired by his most recent taste of adventure away from your small, lazy Florida town, Benny shocked everyone when he announced that he was heading off on a six month solo adventure backpacking his way across Australia.

Which is what then led to the evening in question: Benny’s welcome home party. You, Santi, and Frankie sat waiting beside a crackling fire in your backyard for Will to arrive with Benny, who he had just picked up from the airport. You raised your glass and grinned alongside the others as Benny arrived, his tall form ducking underneath the string lights that criss-crossed across the yard. But as Santi and Frankie called out eager greetings, your breath had hitched in your throat as you took Benny in, bathed in the warm glow of the bulbs—bearded, tan, tousled, sun-kissed hair, and a look of utter contentment nestled in his clear blue eyes, eyes that immediately strayed to you. Never had you seen Benny look so content, so fulfilled, so at ease. After Santi and Frankie both clapped him on the back, Benny made his way to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Missed you,” he had spoken into your hair.

“Glad you made it back in one piece, Miller,” you had replied softly in return when he pulled back. Pinching one of his cheeks, you added, “Sunshine looks good on you.”

He winked.

Though nothing had ever happened between yourself and the younger Miller brother in all the years that you’d known him, you had never been immune to admitting to yourself just how attractive you found him—especially now.

As the hour grew late, following various stories of Benny’s travels, you found yourself seated comfortably in Santi’s lap as you sat around the fire with the boys. Santiago rubbed slow circles along your hip, leaning his head on your shoulder with an easy smile on his lips. Eventually, inhibitions loosened by the bottle that was making its way around the circle, the conversation ventured down a more scandalous route as Santi coyly asked Benny about what other extracurricular activities he had partaken in during his trip.

Benny had scoffed as he took a long pull from the bottle, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he handed it to Frankie. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he retorted with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and something far warmer than the fire began to unfurl in your gut as your mind strayed, wondering what exactly Benny had gotten up to.

Will rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, Pope. I’m sure nobody is having as much sex as you two horny teenagers.”

Benny’s eyebrows raised in amusement as Frankie pointed an accusing finger at the man whose lap you were nestled in and barked out, “In my fucking bathroom, dude!”

You snorted, and Frankie continued, “And you even…you…right on my fucking sink, man!”

Santi’s chest heaved with laughter as he said, “I swear that was soap, Fish.”

Will turned to look at Frankie, picking up the can of beer that was nestled in the cup holder of his folding chair and saluting in his direction. “Better than when they decided my driveway was a great place for a quickie when they were picking me up.”

Santi snorted as he quipped defensively, “You said you needed 15 minutes. We were early!”

You buried your face in your hands, and when you peeked through your fingers, you found that Benny was staring at you intently across the fire.

Will scoffed, “Whatever. Like I said, horny teenagers.”

Santiago shrugged, kissing your cheek before playfully asking, “Care to join us? We’re looking for a third.”

Frankie sputtered, spraying beer all over his pants. “Come on, man!”

Will blinked a few times, composing himself before he answered flatly, “I’m good.”

Santi’s eyes danced over to where Benny sat looking at the two of you, fingers toying with the tab of his beer can. He bit his lip, a whoosh of air escaping his mouth as he chuckled and said, “Yeah, sure. I think I could pencil that into my calendar.”

Your throat went dry, and you had to actively remind yourself not to gape as you felt Santi’s grip on your hips tighten minutely. Santi didn’t miss the way you discreetly tried to clench your thighs together. Benny looked down at his boots for a moment before tilting his head back up in your direction, brushing his hair from his eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.

The moment quickly vanished when Will glanced over at his brother, barking out a laugh and punching him in the arm. And the conversation then returned back to other, less depraved topics. All indecent proposals seemingly forgotten.

Seemingly.

Until Santi decided the best time to address it was while he was balls deep inside of you.

—-

Which is how you found yourself sitting on the dark blue couch in your living room a couple weeks later, running a finger over the condensation that had formed on the can of Coke in your hands, discreetly looking back and forth between Benny—who was sitting beside you with his feet propped up on the coffee table—and Santiago, who smirked at you briefly from where he sat across from you in an armchair.

After grabbing dinner with Benny, Santiago had invited him back to your place, something which was hardly out of the ordinary—except for the potentially awkward conversation that was still to come. Following your reaction to Santi’s surprising suggestion, the two of you had discussed the matter further after your post-coital haze had cleared.

You and Santi had an extremely active sex life, to say the least. And it wasn’t the first time that the idea of bringing a third into your bedroom had come up, but ultimately the situation had never panned out. While the idea excited both of you, neither of you were keen on the concept of doing such a thing with a total stranger. But Benny?

Even Santi had no qualms admitting that the Australian sun had done Benny—who was already an incredibly attractive man to begin with—many favors indeed. And the thought of watching him take you apart? The thought of fucking you in tandem with him? It left him rock hard and aching in his pants. Because he knew that Benny would worship your body the way you deserved, knew that he would appreciate all of your dips and curves, knew that he would respond to every breathy little moan and sigh that fell from your lips.

He saw the way Benny looked at you now, saw the way he always had before. When he didn’t think anyone else was watching. Santi loved you, he really did. You were the best goddamn thing to ever happen to him, and would be forever thankful that the two of you finally got your shit together after a decade of denying it. Hell, he’d finally given his shitty knees the retirement they deserved by returning stateside once and for all, just to be with you.

But he also really fucking loved the idea of sharing you with Benny. Because he knew how much you’d enjoy it, too.

Once Santiago had put the idea in your head, giving you free reign to release an uninhibited tidal wave of fantasies, you found that you couldn’t stop thinking about it—what Benny’s lips would feel like on yours, what his cock would look like, how it would feel sliding in and out of your aching, dripping pussy. Even now you had zoned out as you stared at his handsome profile beside you, only shaken from your reverie by the sound of Santi clearing his throat in anticipation.

“You ever have a threesome, Benny?” Santi asked casually.

Benny’s eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting the sudden change in direction that the conversation had taken. He recovered quickly, glancing down at his lap for a moment with a grin, “Uh, no. Surprisingly not. Bucket list item though, for sure.”

Santi nodded, biting his lip with a smile. “Yeah, us either.”

“Huh,” Benny replied.

Santiago spoke his next words calmly and deliberately, “Do you want to?”

Benny chuckled nervously, looking from Santi to you. When neither of you laughed, a look of realization dawned on his face as he asked, “So that wasn’t a joke, huh?”

You shook your head, looking over at him shyly.

Santi explained, “We both agreed that if it’s going to be anyone, we want it to be you.”

Benny swiveled his head in your direction. “You sure, honey?”

Something hot and heady stirred inside of you as you said, “Yeah Benny, I’m sure.”

Benny sucked in a breath, rooted to the spot, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. His cock stiffened in his pants as the reality of the situation sunk in.

Santi added, “I’m game for whatever, because I know you’ll take care of her,” he nodded his head toward you. “The only rule is that whatever she says, goes. But if you’re not fully sold on this, you can leave now, and we’ll forget it ever happened.”

You studied Benny’s side profile as he shook his head, a rueful grin on his face. “Oh no, I’m definitely in.”

Tossing a glance back to Santi, you waited for him to nod that he was ready before you crawled across the couch toward Benny. His eyes sparkled as he leaned back, legs spread wide, and you slid into his lap to straddle him.

You watched as Benny’s pupils dilated, and you reached up to brush a strand of his dirty blonde hair from where it messily hung over his eyes. The warm, musky scent of his cologne enveloped you, a stark contrast to the spicy, sweet scent that you associated with Santiago, and you closed your eyes for a moment as you breathed him in.

Benny’s hands hovered on either side of your hips, and you smiled at him as you said softly, “You can touch me, Benny.”

You watched as Benny took a deep breath before letting his large hands make contact, his thumbs resting against the top of your jean shorts, brushing against the sliver of skin that your rucked up shirt had exposed.

Santi, who had come to sit beside you, toyed with the thin strap of your tank top. Benny glanced over at him, and Santi said with a wink, “You two get acquainted first. I want to watch.”

Benny’s eyes roamed back to yours, and he asked you softly, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, but rather than capturing your mouth with his, Benny’s lips immediately gravitated to the corner of your jaw, and you shifted forward in his lap at the sensation of his beard brushing against your face. You shivered, bringing a hand down to clutch at his thigh, and Benny bit down on your neck, sucking on the sensitive expanse of soft skin exposed to him.

Benny’s lips eventually made their way back upward, burning a searing trail across your jawline with deliberate intent that left your insides reeling with anticipation. As his lips hovered near yours, Benny paused for a moment, cupping your cheeks in both hands as he inspected your face. A variety of emotions seemed to play out simultaneously in his eyes, which immediately tracked the way your tongue darted out to whet your bottom lip. The movement seemingly sent him over the edge, as he finally surged forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

You sighed into Benny’s mouth, fisting one hand in the front of his shirt and running another through his hair. His lips eagerly slotted against yours, and when his tongue trailed across the seam of your mouth, you let yours fall open, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You pressed your chest against his, pushing him further against the back of the couch, as he cupped the back of your head and tangled his tongue with yours. You felt his growing hardness beneath you, and you were helpless to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth at the way his length pressed firmly into the seam of your tight denim shorts. Benny echoed the sentiment, verbalizing his own feelings on the matter when you began to grind down against him, desperately seeking more friction.

“Oh fuck,” Santi panted out as he began to roughly palm himself over his jeans.

Benny groaned, rutting up into you, hands resting on your bare thighs. As he continued to devour your mouth with his, he trailed his fingers up higher and higher until they eventually came to a rest at the edge of your denim shorts.

With your legs spread wide in his lap, Benny realized that the shorts and their meager inseam hardly left anything to the imagination, only a narrow strip of denim separated him from the heat waiting at the apex of your thighs. In fact, if he were to just continue sliding his fingers higher and push the fabric aside…

“Fuck.”

Both of you spoke at the same time—you, in reaction to the feeling of his finger slipping into your shorts and brushing against your core, and him, upon realizing that you weren’t wearing any underwear and that you were already dripping wet for him. He let his finger glide over your folds for a moment. You nodded to encourage him to continue, and he inserted it into your waiting hole. You bucked your hips in his lap, keening under his steady touch as he slowly began to slide the digit in and out of your slit, and he swallowed the whine of pleasure that crawled up your throat with a heady kiss.

While unbuttoning them and dragging down the zipper may have perhaps been the more conventional option, there was something about the pleasurable tug of the tight shorts as Benny held the material aside with his thumb—plunging a second finger inside of your wet pussy—that nearly drove you to the edge right then and there.

Beside you, you heard the clink of Santi’s belt buckle and the telltale sound of him spitting into his palm, followed by a quiet moan as he began to fist himself. “Keep going,” he urged the both of you.

Benny took your bottom lip into his mouth, biting and sucking on it. “Does this feel good, honey?” he asked, his low drawl setting your insides ablaze.

Your voice was wrecked as you told him, “It feels so fucking good, Benny.”

“She likes it a little rough,” Santi encouraged, his voice gravelley as he fucked his tight fist.

Santi clearly wanted you to be reduced to a moaning, panting mess in Benny’s lap. You tilted your head back slightly, freely exposing your neck to Benny, and you felt his cock twitch underneath you.

Bringing a hand up to rest loosely against your throat, his eyes burned into yours as he confirmed, “Like this?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, and he flexed his fingers before tightening his grip around your throat, reveling at the way he could feel your cunt clench down on his fingers in response. He slid a third digit inside of your dripping hole with ease, and you began to ride his fingers desperately as he choked you, a thrumming wave of pleasure rising in your abdomen.

“Come for him, baby,” Santi groaned as he continued tugging on his shaft.

Your orgasm tore through you, your toes curling hard against the fabric of the couch. Benny’s lips engulfed yours, his tongue licking its way into your mouth as you rode out the aftershocks of your pleasure on his sticky, soaked fingers.

“Beautiful,” Benny gasped quietly against your lips, before dragging his mouth away to press a kiss to your nose and another to your forehead.

You collapsed against Benny, and he rubbed circles into the small of your exposed back where your shirt had ridden up. Feeling Benny’s still-hard length beneath you, you lifted your head up, looking from him to Santiago, who leaned over to kiss you softly.

Santi placed a finger under your chin and asked, “It’s your call, baby. What’s next?”

Benny chimed in, “Yeah, whatever you want, honey. I’m in.”

Eager to have them both in your hands before anything else, you slid out of Benny’s lap and backed up slightly, dropping to your knees on the soft area rug in front of the couch. You shuddered slightly at the feeling of your cum-soaked jean shorts rubbing against your sensitive folds.

You crooked a finger in their direction, and Santi grinned. After spending so much time with Benny on battlefields, in locker rooms, and everywhere else in between, he was well aware of the sheer size of his friend’s cock. While not quite as long, Santi was still well off himself, something that you often reminded him of as you moaned about how much you loved how deeply he filled you. But now, this knowledge left Santi twitching in anticipation as he waited for your reaction, knowing that you’d be beside yourself at the mere thought of Benny’s impressive length slamming into you and splitting you open as soon as you laid eyes on it.

Both men made their way over to you, and since Santi’s dick was already hanging out of his pants, you set to work on Benny’s jeans. He groaned as you slipped your hand inside of his boxers, and your mouth went completely dry when you finally pulled his length out. You could already feel more arousal pooling in your crevice as you dizzily imagined trying to stuff his entire cock into your tight pussy. If you weren’t so eager to feel his and Santi’s dicks thrusting into the back of your throat at the same time, you’d be begging Benny to rip your shorts off and fuck you senseless right on the carpet.

You leaned forward to lick stripes up and down Benny’s cock to lubricate it for your hand before turning to Santiago, eager to give him attention after his patience during your show on the couch. As you pumped Benny’s length with one hand, you cupped Santi’s balls with the other as you began to suck and lick your way up and down his dick.

Both men panted above you, and Santi groaned out, “Oh fuck yeah, baby. Feels so good,” as you swallowed his length.

Benny watched as your mouth bobbed on Santi’s cock, spit dripping from your lips, and he moaned. You pulled your lips off of Santi with a pop, leaving your hand to continue stroking him, and you turned to Benny.

You took the thick head of his cock into your mouth, tilting your head up to meet his hooded gaze as you relaxed your jaw and began to swallow him as deeply as you possibly could.

“Holy fuck,” Benny choked out as you eagerly began to deep throat him.

After a few moments, you pulled off and looked up at him innocently as you said, “You can fuck my mouth if you want, Benny.”

Benny raked a hand through his hair, biting down on his fist. “I—are you sure?”

“Oh she fucking loves it, man,” Santi piped up.

You slipped your lips back onto Benny’s spit-soaked length, and he rested a hand at the back of your head. He met your eyes briefly again before beginning to slowly slide his length in and out of your mouth. You moaned around his cock, and he began to increase his pace.

“Yeah, just like that,” Santi murmured.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Benny panted out as you unzipped your shorts, dipping one of your own fingers into your wet slit. You whined in pleasure as Benny began to fuck your mouth more insistently, and drool slid out from the corner of your mouth. Before he could reach his peak, you gave his thigh a squeeze, slowly pulling off of him, a trail of spit dangling from the head of his cock to your swollen lips.

You pulled Santi closer from where he stood across from Benny so that the tips of their cocks nearly brushed, and you began to pump them each with one hand as you ran your tongue back and forth over their heads. Benny and Santi moaned in tandem, and you began to stuff both of their cocks into your mouth at the same time.

“She’s so goddamn good for us, isn’t she, Ben?” Santi asked.

“Fucking perfect,” Benny breathed out huskily.

You keened at the praise, and you felt your arousal begin to leak down your thighs at the sight of Benny and Santi rutting their spit-soaked cocks against one another, slipping and sliding together as you sloppily sucked them both off.

“Where do you want it, baby?” Santi asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.

You released their shafts momentarily so you could slip off your tank top, unclasping your bra as well and letting it fall to the floor. Benny’s eyes eagerly took in the swell of your breasts as you looked up at them, running a thumb over one of your hard nipples.

“You’re gonna kill me, woman,” Benny choked out when he understood what you wanted, whilst you resumed eagerly lapping at them and stroking them.

They brought their hands down to their cocks as their releases simultaneously approached, and you leaned back slightly and exposed your chest to them as they pumped themselves hard until thick, hot ropes of cum were spurting out of both of their cocks and all over your face and breasts. When they finished, Santi pulled you to your feet, ducking his head down to suck on your cum-covered tits. He brought his sticky mouth to yours afterward, and you eagerly licked the mixture of his release and Benny’s off of his lips.

You noticed Benny watching you with interest out of the corner of your eye, and you turned to him, smirking as you swiped up a glob of cum from your chest and sucked it off of your finger. Stepping forward, you tilted your chin up toward him, and he leaned down to kiss you hard, licking his way back into your mouth.

As Benny slid his tongue around yours and kissed you deeply, Santi sauntered off, only to return several moments later with a damp washcloth. Benny stepped back as Santi gently wiped your chest and face clean, tilting your head up and placing an affectionate kiss on your lips afterward.

“That was…” Benny trailed off.

You smiled at him mischievously as you continued for him, “Not even close to the end of this evening’s festivities.”

Benny looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath as he said, “I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming right now.”

Santiago laughed, and you winked at Benny before taking the lead and heading toward your bedroom down the hall.

“You guys coming or what?” you called out, and both men quickly followed.

—--

You stood waiting in the middle of the bedroom, and Santi approached you first, massaging your collarbone with his thumb. Despite the excited thrum of anticipation searing through your nerves, you relaxed under his touch. Your eyes fell shut and he brushed a kiss to your lips, letting his mouth linger over yours for a moment.

He pulled back to look into your eyes and asked, “You doing okay, baby?”

You bit your lip as your mouth formed a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

Santi’s eyes drifted behind your shoulder, and you felt Benny come up behind you, his arms snaking around your bare torso. You arched into him when he began to pepper kisses along your shoulder blades, and he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck before biting down on the sensitive skin there.

“Pope…man, I don’t know how you fucking do it,” he breathed out, his voice sounding worse for wear.

Santi chuckled as he watched you writhe under Benny’s touch, and you turned around in his arms to face him, asking, “Do what?”

Benny shook his head, roughly dragging a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. He brought his hand up to your face, cupping your chin and running his thumb along your jaw. “After seeing the way you look when you come apart, I just don’t know how he ever thinks about anything else.”

Santi smirked, pleased that his assumption was right: Ben Miller would indeed cherish the addicting chase of your satisfaction with the same insatiable fervor that he did.

Heat pooled between your legs as Benny searched your gaze, eyes full of lust and admiration. You dipped your head down to take his thumb into your mouth, running your tongue over it and sucking on it. Meanwhile, Santiago came up behind you, his chest—now bare, having shucked off his shirt—pressing against yours, his hands slithering around your waist to slide your shorts down. You reached out, beginning to push Benny’s t-shirt up, and he slipped it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

Santiago’s lips latched onto the side of your neck while his hands grazed your wet core, prodding and teasing at your swollen clit. You grasped Benny’s jeans and boxers, pulling them downward, and he caressed your breasts with his palms. Behind you, Santi shrugged the rest of his clothing off as well, and you soon felt the press of his hard length against the swell of your ass.

Benny sought out your mouth with his, your lips caught in a demanding yet delicate battle, as Santiago began to walk backwards toward the bed, pulling both of you with him. He settled down on the bed, tugging you down into his lap, his cock resting thickly between your ass cheeks. You pulled Benny down to you, needily encouraging him to claim your mouth once more, and Santi snaked a hand around to your front, slipping a finger into your core.

Though he was hesitant to stop kissing you, Benny lowered himself to his knees, eager to taste you elsewhere. Santi, watching his movements, hooked his feet on the inside of your ankles, pulling your legs open wide for Benny. He pulled his finger out of you and licked your sticky arousal off of it.

Benny nosed the inside of your thighs, pressing searing kisses to your skin as he neared your glistening folds, entranced by the way your arousal continued to drip out of you. He glanced up at Santiago and asked in a husky voice, “She always this wet, Santi?”

You felt the rumble of Santi’s chest as he chuckled, “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

A fresh wave of arousal scorched your insides at the implication behind his words. Did he want this to be a regular thing?

Benny raised his eyebrows, a small smile forming on his lips, before he turned his gaze to you. “This okay, honey?” he asked, gesturing toward where he was inches away from licking a hot stripe up your slit.

“Yeah, Benny, please,” you nodded, relaxing your body further into Santiago’s embrace.

If you thought Benny finger fucking you in your little jean shorts was something to moan over, you had another thing coming. Every muscle in your body contorted at the delicious feeling that tore through you as Benny began to brazenly lap at your folds with his dexterous tongue, breathy pants and moans falling from your lips in a symphony of pleasure.

“Oh my fucking GOD,” you choked out as he thrust his tongue inside of your hole, swirling and prodding at your walls as his nose pressed against your clit.

He pulled back slightly to chuckle, voice low and rough, “It’s Benny, sweetheart.”

Santi snickered, tilting your head to the side to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. He slipped a finger into your mouth, beckoning you to suck on it, and then brought the spit-soaked digit between your bodies, brushing it over the tight ring of muscle that his dick was resting against.

“Santi, baby, please,” you whined, shifting your body slightly, and you gasped when his finger caught on the edge of your hole.

Benny paused his assault on your core for a moment to see what was getting you so worked up, and when he realized what Santi was doing, he looked up at you with a grin, lips shiny and wet. “You like that, honey?”

“I love it,” you managed to get out, voice nearly breaking.

Santi pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade and asked, “Benny, should I keep going?”

Benny smirked, lazily pumping two fingers in and out of your soaking wet hole. “Yeah, Pope. She’s been such a good girl for us. Let her have it.”

Santi slipped his finger fully into your ass just as Benny surged up to kiss you roughly, swallowing your wanton moan. As Benny’s lips slotted against yours, he crooked his fingers deep inside of you and pressed down hard on your clit with his thumb while Santi pumped his finger in and out of your other hole. Without warning, the tight coil inside of you snapped in a tidal wave of shrieking pleasure, and clear liquid came gushing out of your pussy, squirting all over Benny’s arm.

Santi supported you as your body went limp, and Benny dropped backward onto the floor. “Did you just…?” He began to ask.

“Oh yeah, she does that, too. A lot,” Santi confirmed.

Benny drug a hand through his hair—face flushed and chest heaving—and exclaimed, “That was so fucking hot.”

The three of you sat for a few moments catching your breath until Santi eventually spoke up, “How are you feeling? Do you still want to ride Benny’s cock, baby?”

Benny caught one of your legs with his hand, which you were swinging from the edge of the bed, and pressed a kiss to your ankle. You nodded, and Santi breathed out, “Good, because I’ve been waiting all night to watch this.”

Santi gestured for Benny to join the two of you on the bed, and he complied, settling down on his back with his head propped up on your pillows. Briefly, you found yourself hoping that the scent of his cologne would linger with you and Santi when you went to sleep later that night. You turned to Santi, running a hand through his curls and kissing him softly before crawling across the bed to where Benny was waiting.

You climbed up his tall, muscled form, feathering kisses along the various scars that adorned his body. Benny closed his eyes, mouth falling slightly open once your lips teased at the head of his hard cock, fingers digging into the sheets as you drug your mouth up his chest. His impatience won out when you nipped at his collar bone, and he pulled your head to his, enveloping your lips in a desperate kiss.

His lips stilled for a moment, and he broke the kiss, looking from you to Santiago. “Condoms?”

Santi shrugged. “We’re both clean.”

“I got tested after I came back from my trip,” Benny affirmed.

“Good, because I wanna feel you inside of me,” you told Benny.

Santi pinched the back of your thigh as he added offhandedly, “That’s it? I seem to remember you saying…oh, what was it? You want to be completely stuffed and dripping with Benny and I’s cum by the time we’re finished?”

Your face flushed at the memory of what Santi had pulled from your mouth mid-orgasm the night before. Benny’s cock twitched, and he swallowed. Santi tracked the movement and added casually, “Oh, yeah. That’s uh, covered, too. You can fill her up.”

Benny groaned as you began to slide your wet folds along his stiff cock, hands grasping your hips. You planted another kiss on his lips before slowly beginning to sink down on his cock, and Benny threw his head back and moaned. He kept his hold on your waist, ready to keep you balanced if the stretch of his cock inside of your tight core began to be too much. But you kept going, and your slick arousal edged his shaft deeper and deeper until he finally bottomed out. You collapsed forward against his chest, breathing heavily, his name falling from your lips in a rush.

“Fuuu–u-uck,” he gritted out as he felt the tight walls of your cunt pulse and flutter around his cock.

You attempted to lift yourself up, but your body trembled, overcome by the pleasure that seared through you from the sheer size of Benny’s cock filling you so completely.

“I’ve got you, honey,” Benny murmured as he tightened his grip on your hips and lifted you up, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of you, “You take my cock so fuckin’ good, beautiful.”

Santi let out a moan from where he was laid out beside you, eyes watching Benny’s cock sink into your cunt as he stroked his own throbbing length.

“Harder, Benny,” you whined, and before you realized what was happening, Benny flipped you over and began fucking you roughly into the mattress.

He lifted you by your hips, driving his cock deep inside of you, his hair falling into his eyes in a wild, sweaty mess. You head lolled to the side, and you met Santi’s blissed out gaze as he watched the two of you, completely and entirely enraptured by the sight of Benny pounding his cock into your cunt, fucking you within an inch of your life. Santi scooted closer, pumping furiously at his cock as he licked at the seam of your mouth.

“Santi, baby, I want you both to come inside of me at the same time,” you panted out.

Benny stilled, turning to Santiago as he reduced his thrusts to an excruciatingly slow drag. Santi motioned for him to flip you back over into your original position, which he did, and Benny carefully eased you back down onto his thick, waiting length. He pulled you down against him, kissing you languidly as Santi positioned himself behind you.

“Hey Benny, I’m going to fuck her ass, but let’s take turns with her pussy first,” Santi suggested.

You felt Benny’s cock throb inside of you, and he kissed you deeper, savoring the slide of your tongue against his before slowly lifting you off of his cock. Your empty hole fluttered for a moment, only to be filled a moment later by the thick, familiar stretch of Santiago’s cock. He thrust into you a few times and then pulled out, allowing Benny to stuff his dick back into your hole immediately after. Your entire body shook as they continued taking turns shoving their cocks in and out of your fucked out hole. At one point, they both shoved the heads of their cocks in at the same time, pausing for a second when they realized their mistake.

“Please,” you whimpered.

Benny chased your mouth with his, slotting your lips together, and he sheathed his dick inside of your tight pussy again right along with Santiago’s. They alternated thrusts, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gasped in ecstasy, stuffed so full with both their cocks nestled inside of you at the same time that you couldn’t even move. Your pulse began to quicken, and you met Benny’s gaze as burning hot bliss set your whole body aflame, your climax pulsating through you with the force of a lightning strike. Your cum dripped down both of their cocks, and Santi swiped it up, using the lubrication to begin scissoring his fingers into your other tight ring of muscle.

He prepped you quickly, wasting no time in stuffing his cock into your ass, and you moaned as Benny resumed his thrusts into your sensitive cunt. Both of them keyed up and nearly at their breaking points, it didn’t take long for Benny to begin shuddering beneath you, his orgasm hitting him hard as he shot his load inside of you, painting your walls with his hot seed. You remained nestled on Benny’s softening cock as Santi continued to chase his release, pounding his cock into you until he eventually cried out, dumping thick spurts of his cum into your asshole.

Santi collapsed onto the bed beside you, and Benny carefully pulled his cock out of you, laying you down on your back. He sat up, sliding down lower on the bed until he was nestled in between your legs, and he motioned for Santi to join him. You whined and keened as they began to take turns thrusting their tongues into your cunt, eating the thick globs of cum that were pouring out onto the sheets below. When the overstimulation became too much, you sat up, pulling them both up by their wrists to come and lie on either side of you.

You turned to Santi, unspoken words shared between the two of you as you pressed a tender kiss to his lips before rolling over to face Benny. Santi wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close, and you interlaced your fingers with Bennys as you brushed your nose against his. He brought his lips to yours and kissed you slowly.

You were on almost the brink of sleep when you eventually felt Benny shift, and your eyes snapped open, finding something conflicting swimming in his blue eyes. Santi immediately flapped a hand around, seeking out Benny’s arm, which he grasped firmly as he said, “Aren’t you staying?”

Santi propped his head up slightly, and Benny looked from you to him as he asked, “Do you…want me to stay?”

You swiveled your head to kiss Santi before turning back to face Benny. “Yes,” you said softly, ghosting your lips over Benny’s once more.

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#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #the year was 2023 when i realised i love benny so much

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