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pimosworld · 9 days

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I’m so not normal about these two and their wildly dysfunctional relationship

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

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

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

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

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

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

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk.

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that not named after the same guy?

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Audrey sinks two balls on the break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She won’t.

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

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

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

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

“Jesus, Francisco.”

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

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

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

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

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

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

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

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

“Frankie–”

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

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes.

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

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

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

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

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

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

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

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He probably is.

And he's hers.

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

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

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

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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pimosworld · 10 days

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If you weren’t pregnant he’d flip you onto your belly and drive into you, probably pull your hair and tell you to cut the attitude.

This line is a criminal offense against my ovaries.

Wonderful Tonight

Marcus Pike x Pregnant Female Reader - 18+

Summary: Marcus Pike takes care of his very pregnant wife, shaving her legs (and more) and then treats her like the delicious meal she is. CW: pregnancy, shaving, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (you can't get pregnant while pregnant, but all of you better be wrappin it up!), praise, pet names (baby, honey, etc.), multiple orgasms. This is fluffy romantic smut. AN: I write one piece with feelings and suddenly I'm Mrs Romance over here! I gotta say that I'm falling deeper and deeper for Mr Marcus Pike, JUST LOOK AT THAT FACE!!! I feel like their wedding song would have been Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, hence the title. Thank you @syd-djarin for reading this over for me. @survivingandenduring, I'll be waiting for my edits lol. Dividers by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 3.9k

A faint groan stirs Marcus awake, he takes a few seconds to fully come to, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Trying to listen for that sound again, unsure if it was a dream or not. He reaches across the plush white bedding of the king sized bed looking for you, his beautiful and very pregnant wife, only to find the bed empty.

Usually, worry and panic would rush through him if you weren’t in bed, but you appear to be in your nesting phase and it hasn’t been unusual in these last few weeks for him to find you rearranging the nursery or ordering more things off Amazon at strange hours. You also seemed to have the strangest midnight cravings, like mayonnaise on ice cream, or there was that night he walked on you about to take a bite out of a kitchen sponge.

He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches, looking over at his alarm clock. 2:56 am.

The sound of you huffing and grunting floats from under the door of your ensuite bathroom. You sound like you’re struggling or in pain and adrenaline courses through Marcus as he hops up and rushes to the door. His mind racing to calculate the number of weeks pregnant you are and if it’s too soon for you to be in labour or not.

He tries the door handle to find it locked. “Babe?” He calls, rapping his knuckle in the door gently.

“Sorry. I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” you call back, your voice seems off like it’s laced with discomfort. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, you’re not fine, and according to his quick math you’re also at a point where you could go into labour and even though the baby would be a little early, they’d be past the danger zone and the baby would most likely be ok.

“Please open the door. You don’t sound fine.” He says softly, pushing the panic down like the trained FBI agent he is.

You’re quiet for a second before responding in a more stable voice, “Everything is fine. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Are you sure everything is ok?” He asks one more time, he knows your stubborn tendencies and how it usually takes him to ask three or four times before you give in.

It’s silent again behind the door. Just the sound of you huffing like you ran a marathon before a sad little ‘no’ leaves your lips. It simultaneously sends him into fix mode and breaks his heart. He hears your bare feet pad across the tile floor followed by the click of the lock.

He cracks the door slowly to come face to face with you in just your sports bra, naked from the ribs down. Your legs are slathered in raspberry and tangerine scented shaving cream and you have a purple razor in your hand. Your cheeks are pink with frustration and the exertion of trying to bend down. Your hair’s piled on top of your head, a few loose strands falling and sticking along the nape of your neck.

He leans his toned bicep against the doorframe, only wearing his tight black boxers, then crosses his arms and looks at you tenderly. His voice is soft and full of love as he says, “Oh, sweetie. What are you doing?”

The tears of frustration start to pool along your lash line. “I’m gonna give birth and I can’t be a Sasquatch, but I can’t bend over without feeling like my lungs are being crushed by my giant belly.”

Marcus cups your face, wiping away the stray tear and bringing your eyes to his. “Honey, you’re not a Sasquatch. And even if you were, they’re doctors. Come here,” his hand trails to the nape of your neck and he pulls you gently into him, wrapping both arms around you and tucking your head into his neck, “They’re not looking at your leg hair. They’re focused on you and the baby.”

You relax into his arms, belly pressing against his abdomen comfortably. “I can’t go into labour like this,” you say, anxiety wavering in your voice.

Marcus drops his arms from your body and slides past you, slipping his boxers down before stepping into the large, glass walled shower. He turns the nob that controls the rainfall shower head and crooks his fingers at you as a silent call to walk to him.

When you reach him, he starts to unzip the front of your sports bra. “What are you doin’, Mr Pike?” You say softly over the soothing sounds of the shower, watching his thick fingers pull the zipper down.

“I’m shaving Mrs Pike’s legs,” he says as you look back up at him. His chocolate brown eyes soaked you in and made you weak in the knees.

“Marcus, you -“ he cuts you off as your sports bra hits the floor.

“I promise to love, cherish and treasure you,” he starts, lightly pulling you into the shower. He always recites his marriage vows when he can sense you’re about to fight off his help. His way of reminding you that he wants to be there, wants to care for you. He continues his speech as he leads you to the wooden bench, “In all circumstances; good or bad. Forever. Without hesitation or keeping score. From this breath, until my last breath, you are my wife, my love, my partner, and my equal.”

He steadies you as you sit before taking a knee in front of you and smiling up at you sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It’s the middle of the night and this incredibly sweet man doesn’t even question or fight you. Just supports and loves you with his whole being. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Baby, you’re growing a person for us. You deserve so much more,” he holds his palm out and you place the razor in his hand. His other hand wraps around your swollen ankle lifting it to rest your foot on his knee. Before you can say much he starts making slow, gentle strokes of the razor up your leg.

You’re both silent for a moment, him lost in the sight of your soft skin as he shaves your leg, you lost in him and the way he’s looking at you as he drags the sharp razor so tenderly across your skin. The steam from the shower wraps around the two of you, encasing you in your own little cloud. The rest of the world and all your worries are temporarily blocked out until all your thoughts are just Marcus. Sweet, loving, emotionally available, Marcus Pike.

He reaches for the detachable shower head and drizzles warm water down your shin and calf, using his free hand to rinse away the excess shaving cream. You go to move your leg away but he grabs your ankle to keep you there. After switching off the water he puts it back and looks up at you, placing a light and lingering kiss on the inside of your knee before placing your foot back on the warm tile floor and grabbing the other ankle.

The shaving cream has washed away from the steam and backsplash from the rainfall behind Marcus, so he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up your leg. You watch again as he focuses all his attention on carefully shaving your other leg. Using the same little strokes, rinsing the razor more often than you would if you were doing it yourself.

After rinsing off the excess soap he glances up at you. “Better?” He asks soothingly.

“Ya,” you say, trying to convince him that your legs were your only worry, but he knows you better than that. He knows that when you flick your eyes away from his and your spine just slightly stiffens you want to ask something but are afraid or nervous to.

“Honey, what else do you need?” His hand kneads the swollen and sore muscles of the calf that’s still propped on his knee.

“Well…” you trail off as you start to blush.

“Mrs Pike. Are you going to ask me to shave your pussy?” He says with a devious little grin. Eyes lighting up like a horny teenager, placing your foot on the floor.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say quickly. “I’m just worried that -“

He lightly covers your lips with his palm and Reminds himself to stay calm. he’s thought about how sensual it would be to shave your most delicious areas, but he knows you have some insecurities about body hair, and he didn’t want you to think you had to be clean shaven for him to find you sexy. Because truthfully, you could be a Sasquatch and he’d still want you. “Oh no, baby. I want to. I really REALLY want to.”

You lightly kiss the inside of his palm as he smiles hungrily at you. Just as your insecurities start to cloud your thoughts Marcus places his hands on your belly and rubs gently. “For the record, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, clean shaven or not. I love the taste of your pussy when it’s like this, it’s sweeter and feels soft against my skin. Plus, I love the way you cry out when I tug on it. So don’t think for a second that my excitement over getting to shave her means I prefer it that way. I don’t. Ok?”

You crash your lips into his, tangling your fingers through the slightly outgrown hair at the nape of his neck. He tastes like toothpaste still from before he went to bed as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, his soft wet tongue swiping against yours. The two of you stay like that for a while. Lazily making out in the middle of the night in the shower. His hands trail from your belly to your back, gently massaging the muscles of your lower back and then your hips.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you catch your breath. “I’m going to get a new razor and your special shaving cream. Ok?”

You nod against him. “Are you ok on the bench, honey? Do you need a towel to sit on?”

“No, I’m ok. We can move if the ground is uncomfortable, Marcus.” He’s always beating you to ensure the other is comfortable.

“Be right back,” he winks. You watch him walk out of the shower to the vanity. The water droplets on his back run down the toned and slender muscles that line his back, they catch in the curve of his ass before running down his tight cheeks. You find yourself squeezing your knees together at the sight of your naked husband. He truly is so beautiful, inside and out.

He slips back into the shower and kneels before you, sitting back on his heels. “Slide to the edge, baby.” His hands come to your hips, guiding you forward. He licks his lips and looks up at you through his thick lashes, big brown eyes dancing softly around your face. “Spread your legs for me.”

Normally, saying something like that would sound dirty, or like a command, but it floats gently over the splash of the shower. Soft, caring, and so sweet that you melt back onto your hands, parting your knees wide for your husband. His eyes glaze over slightly as his lips part, your glistening soft folds on display for him. He blinks a few times and takes a slow breath, reaching for the shower head again, cupping the water in his hand and drizzling it along your pussy. The breath catches in your throat, something about this feels incredibly sensual, and it doesn’t help that Marcus is looking down at your pussy like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Is the water ok? Not too hot?” He asks.

How did you get so lucky, but more so, how did anyone divorce this man in the past?

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” your voice waves, it’s breathy and full of arousal. He blinks up at you and smirks. He knows this is turning you on, and he plans to make sure you enjoy yourself as much as possible.

He applies the cream and grabs the razor, popping off the flimsy plastic guard before getting to work. His hand rests above your mound, pulling back gently to make the skin taut. He uses little strokes, rinsing the blade between each swipe of the razor. You close your eyes and let your head fall back as he continues. Once he’s removed all the hair from the top, he rests his hand on the now smooth skin just above your clit and gently pulls back. A soft whimper passes your lips, he’s so close to your most sensitive spots. But he said he’d help you shave, so he continues, swiping the razor in the same short strokes down one lip, and then the other. By the time he’s done, your breathing is rapid and shallow.

“You doing okay up there, baby?” He asks, placing the razor on the bench beside you.

You moan a soft ‘mmmmm-hmm’ as he reaches for the detachable shower head. You open your eyes, watching as he tests the water on his hand and wrist before holding the stream over your pussy. You gasp at the feeling of the warm water pressure flowing over your now swollen clit. Marcus smiles up at you, the dimple on his cheek forming and setting you on fire. He clicks the button on the side of the shower head, increasing the water pressure and holding it closer to your core.

“Marcus,” you whimper, leaning back further. Gravity lolling your head backwards.

“That’s it. Just relax, honey.” He says in a hushed voice, his free hand gripping and massaging the soft skin of your inner thigh higher and higher until he’s at the top. His thick middle and ring fingers coming to tease around your entrance.

“Oh god. Please, Marcus.” You say through bated breath. Your swollen breasts and belly rise and fall with your pleas.

He dips the tips of his fingers inside you, feeling your walls pulse and flutter. Taking his time to slowly fuck his fingers into you, inch by inch. Slowly. Lovingly. All while watching how you react. Watching the way your mouth falls open, eyebrows raising slightly, lips going soft as you moan his name.

Once his fingers are all the way, he curls them forward just as he clicks the button on the shower head, increasing the water pressure to its highest setting. You let out a long, husky wanton moan that echoes off the black tiled walls. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your legs start to shake, as your body almost launches you towards your release. Every muscle seems to go slack and it waves through you, pleasure reverberating from your aching clit, spreading to every cell in your body.

“Marcus. Oh fuck. Don’t stop, Pike. Please.”

You feel lighter, even as your heavy belly bounces as you grind shamelessly into Marcus’s palm and the spray of the shower head. He feels the grip of your slick walled pussy start to relax as you crest over the edge of your orgasm and start to come down. He pulls the stream of water away from your clit, the warmth of his large hand cupping you, his two thick fingers still working you slowly to the bottom of your high.

“You’re such a goddess, baby.” He says proudly. The praise wraps around you like a warm blanket as he slides his fingers from you carefully. “I wanna take you to bed and watch you do that again.”

You find the strength to arch your neck forward and look at him. You smile sleepily and nod, allowing your beautiful husband to take your hand, shut off the water, and lead you to bed. Before helping you climb in, he moves his hands to cup your face, placing his lips against yours. His chest rumbles with a content sigh as your tongue swipes hungrily along his soft bottom lip. One of your hands scoops under your belly, lifting it to relieve the pressure on your lower back, the other reaches for his hard cock. You grip around the base gently and stroke him slowly, matching the energy of the kiss.

“Mmmm, I like that baby,” he says between kisses, “But I’m not done with you yet. Let’s get you into bed.”

You climb in as gracefully as possible, praying silently that you don’t look like those sea lions that you watched on your honeymoon in Alaska a few years ago. You lay down on your back as Marcus climbs on top of you best he can, stretching to keep kissing you, doing his best not to put any of his weight on your bump. This position immediately puts pressure on your body, making you feel short of breath.

Your hands push at Marcus and you sit up slightly, seemingly fighting for breath. “Ugh,” you groan frustratedly, “I can’t breathe like that. I’m sorry. This is so unsexy.”

“Unsexy? I’m rock hard for you,” he says, looking down and then back at you with a smile. “You lay how it’s comfortable, how about that?”

“Pike, I’m only comfortable on my side with that crazy pillow under my leg.” You say, defeated and anxious. “I need you though.”

He thinks for a second, chewing his cheek as he surveys the pillows available. “Ok, what if you lay on your side, bottom leg straight, top leg hooked up and resting on the pillow?”

You smile at him lovingly, “Is that really gonna be sexy?”

“Honey, I’ve never been more turned on by anyone in my entire life. You’re glowing. I’m amazed by you every day.” He fluffs the pillows around you as you turn away from him, bending your leg up as high as your belly allows. “Is that comfy, baby?”

His fingers trace up and down your spine slowly as your body starts to sink and relax into the soft mattress. “Yes,” you whisper.

His lips come to your neck, kissing the soft spot behind your ear, down your neck and then along the top of your shoulder, fingertips swirling along your back and ass cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning at his sweet caresses. His lips continue to kiss your skin and down your back, as he spins his body so his feet are at the head of the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says into your skin between kisses. “So strong. So selfless. I love you so much, Mrs Pike.”

Your whole body seems to tingle with anticipation of where he’s going to kiss next, you feel his hair tickle the inside of your top leg as he maneuvers his head between your thighs. You lift your leg higher, desperate to feel his mouth on your already sensitive pussy.

“Please, baby,” you gasp, arching your back slightly. “I need you to…”

His warm soft tongue licks a slow and teasing stripe from your asshole to your clit. A tortured moan leaves your lips, hips bucking into his face. Marcus lets out a silent laugh at your reaction. He’s always loved how your body responds to him. The very first time he made you cum, both of you still fully dressed as you made out, hips grinding into his as you shook, he knew that he wanted to see that for the rest of his life.

“Good girl, let me taste it.” He laps at you again, still just as slowly but with more pressure. Asshole, to entrance, to clit. Once. Twice. The third time his thumb comes to press into your now dripping pussy, tongue flicking around your nub slowly and with perfect pressure.

“You taste so good,” he moans between licks. “Such a good girl for me. You’re gonna cum soon aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yesss. Don’t stop, Pike.” He doesn’t stop, he never stops. Not until you’re either begging him to or you’re pushing him away.

“Never, honey,” he mumbles into your wet folds, and that’s when the tight elastic behind your mound snaps, and you cum hard and loud. Your inner walls grip his thumb tightly, pulling it deeper.

“M-Marcus…hnnggg…oh my god. Yes.” You’re lost in the euphoria. Every ache and pain from your pregnancy is temporarily erased and replaced with nothing but pleasure. Sparkling, warm pleasure.

It slowly starts to become too much, slipping into overstimulation. “Marcus. Stop, baby.” He’s always in tune with your body, his thumb already starting to slide out, tongue replaced with light kisses.

You whine as he pulls away, already missing him and the intimacy. “Please fuck me,” you say over your shoulder, his blown out coffee coloured eyes almost black. He slips his body alongside yours, the arm closest to the mattress slipping under your head. He grips his dick with his other hand, pumping it while running it up and down your slit, collecting your arousal.

“Ready, baby?” Marcus asks, kissing the top of your shoulder.

“Just fuck me already!”

If you weren’t pregnant he’d flip you onto your belly and drive into you, probably pull your hair and tell you to cut the attitude. But he knows he has to be gentler right now, so he slowly pushes the thick head of his cock into you. Inching in slowly, almost punishingly. “Don’t be a brat, baby. You know we have to be softer right now.”

You wiggle your ass back, trying to get more. You need all of him. When he’s finally seated all the way inside of you he holds still, sucking on your neck. “Be good, or I’ll just stay like this all night.”

“No, please, baby. Please move.” Your belly makes forward movement impossible so you’re just pinned between your bump and Marcus. “Pike, please.”

He quickly pulls back to the tip and then slides back in. You cry out into his bicep. “Again. Please. Again.”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg,” he whispers, fucking in and out of you a few more times. It’s deep and slow, always with a little extra punch of his hips at the very end. “Sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

You reach down to rub your clit, him encouraging you with his words. “That’s a good girl. Touch yourself for me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re both on the edge, ready to tumble over together. To get lost in each other's pleasure. He moans deeply in your ear, whispering praises as you cum on his cock, holding off as long as he can before you feel his warm spend fill you. You’ve completely melted for him, unable to move or keep your eyes open. You both lay quiet, his softening cock still buried inside you, breathing heavily together. You both drift off, spent and happy and so unbelievably in love that it’s hard to believe something like this can exist.

Marcus wakes up a few hours later still inside you. He slowly slips himself out, peels his body away from yours and tucks the blankets around you. He leaves you a little handwritten note that he’s going to get French toast and bacon from your favourite place.

Ya, it’s definitely hard to believe that a love like this is yours.

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag

@pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes

@jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

@iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather

@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #marcus pike #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut

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pimosworld · 10 days

Text

It’s so fluffy I can’t handle it.

marc spector- slow songs

Summary: Your friend, Marc, pretends to be your boyfriend at a wedding, but is it pretend? (~2.3k)

Contents: f!reader, fluff, fake dating/friends to lovers, language

part of @moonknight-events: MK spring ‘24 Bingo Event

This is the slow song:

-----

“Okay, just be calm. Stay cool, lay low.” You run your hands down your pale, blue dress.

Marc frowns at you. “That’s a terrible pep talk.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for me.” You give him a dirty look. “You’re used to lying to people’s faces, but I’m not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I deserved that one. But as a reminder, I don’t even want to be here. How’s the suit?”

You look him up and down. He has on a dark suit with a bow tie. His curly hair arranged in neat waves away from his face. He was on a mission somewhere sunny and came back tan.

He looks so gorgeous you want to scream.

“It’s not the worst you’ve ever looked.” You grab his hand and haul him into the reception hall.

“Well, I think you look amazing, cupcake,” Marc says with a grin. “My little candy heart-shaped nugget love, whatever.”

He stretches his neck in his shirt. “I’m gonna kill Steven.”

You sigh. Steven had volunteered to be your pretend boyfriend at a friend's wedding. The only way to avoid being put at the singles table, plus you’d have someone to joke with.

But when you’d told your friend you were bringing your new boyfriend, you’d lied and said you’d grown up together. So, not Steven because of his accent, and Jake was too charming to let loose on unsuspecting bridesmaids.

So, Marc had reluctantly agreed.

Not that you weren’t friends with all three of them, but you and Marc weren’t as close. You were never sure why. Probably because his walls were up so high you could see them from space.

“Can’t we just say we’re friends?” Marc says, loosening his bow tie.

You stop walking and re-tighten it. “No, or she’s going to try to set me up with her cousin. He’s had a crush on me for years. I want to tell him to fuck off, but he’d make a whole thing about it.” You give him another once over, smooth a stray curl off his forehead. “Maybe it worked out better this way. You’re intimidating. That’s good.”

Marc looks grim as you enter the ballroom, quiet classical music playing in the background.

“Anything I should know?” Marc says. “What even is your last name?”

You turn to him, mouth open. “We’ve been friends for months. You don’t know?”

He shrugs.

“Okay, you know what,” you say, annoyed, “why don’t you pretend to be someone else? Someone who doesn’t walk around with an ancient God’s arm stuck up his butthole, working him like a puppet?”

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Marc mutters.

Your friend’s parents walk up to you and hug you enthusiastically. You say what a beautiful ceremony it was and turn to introduce Marc.

You hold his hand. “These are my friend’s parents, Maureen and Sidney. And this is my boyfriend.”

Marc holds out his hand, a tight smile on his face. “Tony Wrinklebottom. Nice to meet you.”

You feel like you're having an out of body experience. WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Maureen’s eyes go wide. “It’s nice to meet you too. We haven’t heard a lot about you, but you’re very handsome. And such an unusual last name. Where did it come from?”

“I got it from my father,” Marc says unironically.

You squeeze his hand hard. “We’re going to go get a drink. I’m sure everyone is dying to talk to the parents of the bride. I’ll see you later.”

You plaster on a fake smile and push Marc toward the bar.

“I didn’t mean you had to make up a fake name,” you whisper scream at him.

“I panicked.” Marc leans on the bar. “Whiskey neat and a vodka soda with two limes.”

“You know my drink order, but not my last name?”

Marc takes his wallet out of his jacket to tip the bartender, generously you notice.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “What’s more important to our friendship? Your last name, or my knowing what you like to drink?”

You open your mouth. Shut it. Cross your arms. “This is a disaster.”

“Sure is.” Marc knocks back his first whisky and taps the glass for a second.

He holds his refill in one hand and holds his other arm out for you. You take it reluctantly.

“Let’s find our table,” you say, sipping your drink.

“Whatever you say, cookie-poo.”

“Ugh,” you say, unable to stop the disgusted look on your face.

Marc smiles. “I take it back. This might be fun.”

And weirdly, it kind of is.

You and “Tony” are at a table with complete strangers. He’s not great at casual conversation, but with a face like his, people kind of go along with whatever he says.

He takes off his jacket and bow tie, and relaxes. Something you usually only see when you’re at his place watching a movie, or bringing him something you’d stress-baked.

Someone asks how you met.

Tony puts his arm around you. “My sweet pumpkin pie and I’ve known each other for years. She finally got the hint. All those times I stopped by with take out, or let her sleep with her head on my shoulder, we weren’t just hanging out.”

You smirk at him. “Pardon me for thinking we were friends.”

Marc’s eyes are almost black in the low light. His long lashes blink at you.

“You think friends plan their entire schedule, international travel, around Thursday movie nights? Friends go out of their way every night to walk you home?” His fingers tickle your neck lightly.

You frown, your stomach feeling funny. “You said it was on your way from the gym.”

“I picked that gym because it’s close to your work,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

Marc’s face goes serious again. He pulls his arm away and takes a drink. “Look, just forget I said anything. I must be drunk.”

You watch uncertainty pass over his handsome face. You rub your hand over his forearm.

“You want to dance, Wrinklebottom?” You ask with a smile.

Marc huffs a half-laugh out of his nose. “Sure, pookie bear. Long as it’s a slow one.”

Marc’s broad shoulders are strong under your arms. His hands warm and wide as he holds your waist. He smells good. You get as close enough as you dare, breathing him in.

He hums along to the song. You're surprised he knows it.

“Jake says you’re the prettiest thing here,” he says quietly. “And Steven says he apologizes for not bringing flowers. Wait. No. He thinks I should apologize for not bringing you flowers.”

You and Steven had been in limbo for awhile now. You liked each other as more than friends. Jake had already told Steven to go for it. But you didn’t want to make Marc uncomfortable.

“Thank you, and thank you,” you say. You tilt your head away slightly so you can look at him. “And what does Marc Spector say?”

Marc’s eyes trace over your face. He licks his bottom lip. “The wedding cake was dry.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I’m going to return the gift I got them.”

Marc grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “One of those clocks where the cat’s tail swings back and forth?”

You smile. “Yeah, a big one.”

“Maybe it’s not the cat’s tail then.”

You snort out a laugh. “Stop. Weddings are romantic. No dick jokes.”

“Okay, honey lump, no dick jokes.” He pulls you a little closer. Close enough that your front sides are touching, swaying back and forth in unison. One of his hands rubs the small of your back.

“We can probably leave after this dance,” you say, even though you don’t want to. “We said hello to the bride and groom, ate, had drinks. I think that’s everything.”

“Leave? Tony Wrinklebottom doesn’t leave a party until he slow dances about four times with his girl.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Where the hell did you even get that stupid name?”

Marc’s hand rubs back and forth over your upper back now. “Jake’s watching one of the neighbor’s cats.”

“You named yourself after a cat?”

Marc shrugs. “My last name is Spector, which, given my profession, isn’t exactly subtle either. Besides, you should be so lucky. You could be Mrs. Wrinklebottom one day.”

You laugh, pressing your mouth into his shoulder to keep from drawing attention to yourself. “I always forget what a ridiculous sense of humor you have.”

“Makes you laugh, though,” Marc says.

You raise your head to argue with him, just for the fun of it. Your words die in your throat.

Marc’s looking at you with unusual softness. His head tilts slightly and you think, hope, that he’s going to kiss you. Instead, he cradles the back of your head with one of his hands, and slots it next to his, so your faces really are touching now.

“Your shampoo smells nice,” he says.

Your stomach flutters. “You look really hot.”

“I thought I looked like shit,” Marc says dryly.

You reposition your arms so they’re around his middle, your fingers brushing a little lower than they probably should.

“You’re hot and you know it. In this suit, or your other one when you’re all bloody and sweaty. As much as it pains me to compliment you,” you say.

“Yeah, we don’t really have that kind of friendship, do we? More likely give each other grief than go on and on about how you make the best lasagna. Or thank you for staying over that night last month. When you could tell I didn’t want to be alone. How good you feel in my arms. How much I-“ Marc stops. You feel his jaw tense.

“How much I love you?” You say.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But I did.”

You’ve stopped dancing. Both you standing in the middle of a crowd of people who are still moving back and forth slowly. You desperately hope that you haven’t made a mistake by saying something.

Marc’s gaze burns into yours. “Do you mean it?” He asks.

You smile. “Yes. And, not to sound full of myself, but I think you feel the same way.”

A grin cracks his serious facade. “I meant what I said earlier. About the things I do for you. Showing you how I feel.”

Love washes over you, covering your memories with Marc in warm light.

Part of you is grateful. He’d given both of you time to really know each other, set down a solid base together. But at the same time, he’d been so slow about it you want to shake his muscled shoulders.

“You’ve never even tried to hold my hand,” you say. “I thought we just had this awkward friendship, where you overdid it sometimes and retreated from me other times.”

“I was trying not to scare you away,” Marc says. “And you know how I am with feelings. I don’t like admitting that I have them.”

You roll your eyes. “I know. Talking about your feelings would really eat up your punching-people-in-their-faces time.”

“Punching people is easy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you say.

Marc’s hands nudge your hips and you start dancing again. He doesn’t look tense, or anxious.

“If we do this,” Marc says, “I’m still your awkward friend.”

You pull him close, leaning in to kiss his cheek. His facial hair is already a little rough under your lips, even though he’d shaved just before you’d left.

“Maybe you’d get the upgrade to awkward boyfriend,” you say with a smile.

He kisses the side of your head. “I’d like that.”

“But just so you know, any time we go out, the reservations are going under your alias.”

Marc doesn’t even sigh. He just keeps dancing, his hands tracing over your body. “Mr. and Mrs. Tony Wrinklebottom.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Anthony G. Wrinklebottom.”

Marc chuckles. For the first time, chest to chest with him, you feel the deep rumble under his rib cage. You press in closer.

“Deal,” Marc says. He rests his knuckles under your chin so you’ll look at him. “So you’ll go out with me?”

“On one condition,” you say with a sweet smile. “What’s my last name?”

Marc’s smile freezes on his face. He shuts his eyes tight, but if you know Jake and Steven, they’re more likely to laugh at him than to give him an easy out.

He does that frowny smile that means he gives up, spins you around the dance floor.

He pulls you back in close to him. “I know other things about you. Like, we’re going to that place with the burgers and the fancy french fries for our first date. You can’t make reservations, but Jake knows the manager and we could skip the line.”

You groan. “I love that place.”

“I know,” Marc says smugly. “And the shop with the raspberry gelato for dessert. Walk through the park with the fountain you like. On Fridays the buskers that play Fleetwood Mac and Springsteen are there. We'll sit on the bench under the broken light, more privacy. That's where I want to kiss you.”

“Wow, that’s a good date,” you say, breath knocked out of you by Marc's words and eyes and plans.

“It should be, I’ve been fine-tuning it for three weeks,” he says self-deprecatingly.

You rest your hand against his cheek, rubbing your thumb on his skin. “This Friday, then.”

Marc nods, one of his hands resting around your waist, the other so light on the back of your neck you can barely feel him. He rests his forehead against yours as the song comes to a close.

“You look beautiful. Did I tell you that?” He says. “My little sugar bunny, cherry pie dove bean-“

You clap your hand over his mouth. “You’re what my grandma would’ve called, ‘a real piece of work.’”

He smiles under your palm, picking up the rhythm of the second slow song and easing you into it. You remove your hand, slide it back over his shoulder.

If this is the last thing you ever do as just friends, then Tony’s right. You don’t want to leave. You want to stay for all the slow songs.

-----

Square B "Fake Dating"

**MK Spring '24 Bingo masterlist**

MK masterlist :: main masterlist :: Join My Fic Taglist

taglist friends: @burymesanti, @sosa2imagines, @silvernight-m, @myhohastuff, @apesarecuul, @mangoslushcrush, @clemdango04, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @daydream-believer19, @eternallyvenus, @iolaussharpe-24, @spacecowboyhotch, @bulletgoth, @eternallyvenus, @minigirl87, @oscarssimp, @oddballwriter, @scarlettmoon98

#that’s Mrs wrinkle bottom to you #anthony g #Tony for short #marc spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you

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pimosworld · 10 days

Text

Roommates | 2. sparks on the Fourth of July

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy and Maria have a proposition for you and Joel: buying a house together. When you host a July 4th party at the new house, you meet some very interesting guests.

Chapter Warnings: language, smoking cigarettes, alcohol, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, mutual pining

WC: 9.7K

Series Masterlist

It was late. It was Friday night and it was really late. Almost eleven, but you tried not to stare at the clock too long. Somehow, you had gotten roped into working overtime all week long helping out Sam, one of the newer attorneys, compile documents before his first case on Monday. You were exhausted, but at least you were making overtime because Maria just dropped a bomb on you a few days prior: her and Tommy wanted to move in together. Which would leave you paying rent and utilities all by yourself.

At the time, you wondered if it was too fast. She had frowned at you and reminded you they've been dating almost six months and your jaw almost hit the floor. Six months. That meant it was almost six months since you've slept with Joel. Six months since he told you he was a pornstar and you ended things, but somehow, against all odds, you remained friends. It probably wouldn't have worked unless you both were always around Tommy and Maria, and therefore always around each other, but that didn't matter. You were just glad it worked, you didn't care how you got there.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, your phone rang shrilly on your desk with Joel's picture displaying across the screen. It was a goofy picture you had taken of him mid conversation but for some reason, you just loved it.

"Hello?" you answered and immediately pulled the phone away from your ear. The noise was deafening on the other end.

"Where are you?" you heard Joel's voice ask, "and don't tell me you're still at work!"

You rolled your eyes and glanced towards Sam's office. "I'm still at work."

He groaned and you heard some female voices laughing in the background.

"Sounds like you're having a pretty good time," you said, mentally tacking on without me, and you heard Joel shush the women he was with.

"C'mon, darlin', I haven't seen you in two weeks," he pleaded, the background noise fading. He must have walked somewhere more private.

"Joel Miller. Are you saying you miss me?" you teased, and you could practically hear his smile when he replied.

"If I do, would you leave work right now?" he asked, and you could hear the alcohol in his voice, his sentences drawn out and slow.

"Hmm, I don't know," you replied, tapping your fingers on your desk, "try me."

You heard him sigh before he said, "I miss you. Please ditch work and come hang out with me. Maria and Tommy ain't any fun. I feel like a third wheel, here."

You giggled, and just as you were about to reply, you glanced up and noticed Sam hovering over your cubical wall, giving you a quizzical look. "Uh, Joel? I gotta go." Without waiting for a response, you hung up and dropped your phone on your desk.

"I'm so sorry," you began, but Sam cut you off.

"Don't be. I was coming to tell you to head on out of here," he replied, his full lips curving up into a smile. "Boyfriend?" he asked, nodding towards your phone. You stared at it for a moment, momentarily at a loss for words.

"No. Just a friend," you said with a small smile as you began to gather your things and shut down your computer. When Sam first joined the firm, he got under your skin. You found him annoying and self-righteous, but working closely with him the past few weeks had shown you a different side of him. He was actually kind of nice when he wasn't trying to show off in front of the other lawyers.

"It's late, want me to call you an Uber?" he offered, pulling his phone out of his dark pleated dress pants.

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," you said, taken aback by his generosity, but he was already tapping away on his screen.

"It's the least I could do. You've been a lifesaver these past few weeks. Let me express my thanks, alright?" he asked with a lopsided grin, his finger hovering over the confirmation button on his phone. You smiled and shifted your purse on your shoulder.

"Okay. Thank you," you finally agreed, and he pressed the button and took a screenshot before pulling up a blank message.

"What's your number? I'll send you the details for the driver," he asked, his thumbs waiting for your answer, so you quickly gave it to him and felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Glancing down at your screen, you read the information and nodded.

"Thanks again. That's, like, really nice of you," you told him, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice but he quirked an eyebrow and propped his hands on his hips.

"I can be nice," he teased, making you laugh.

"I didn't mean it like that."

He grinned and began to walk back towards his office, the only one on the floor with the light still on. "Have a great night," he called over his shoulder, your gaze lingering a little too long on the way his back stretched out his dress shirt before heading for the elevators.

When you got into the Uber, you asked the driver if he could take you to a different destination, knowing that if you went home to change you would never find the energy to go back out, so you gave him the address of Tommy's bar and sat back in your seat. Pulling up your phone, you found your text chain with Joel and began to type.

On my way!

You watched as the three little dots immediately popped up as you waited for his reply.

About damn time! I'll meet you outside.

True to his word, when your Uber driver approached the bar, you saw Joel's familiar tall, broad frame leaning against the shadow of the building smoking a cigarette.

"Thank you," you told the driver, who wished you a good night and drove off. Joel smirked and pushed off the wall, his cheeks rosy and eyes dark as he approached and tugged you into a bear hug.

"Was startin' to think you been avoidin' me," he teased, and you playfully shoved him away, making a face.

"I don't wanna smell like cigarettes," you told him, waving the smoke away from your hair. He laughed and took one more drag before tossing it on the sidewalk.

"You say that now," he replied, the smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, "but you get a couple drinks in you and you'll be beggin' to bum one."

"That only happened one time," you said, rolling your eyes as his arm draped around your shoulders, walking you both towards the entrance of the bar.

"One time that you remember, maybe," he shot back with a smirk, holding the door open and ushering you inside. "C'mon, I got a good table, don't wanna lose it."

"Yeah, sounded like you met some new friends over the phone," you said, raising your voice so you could be heard over the music. He didn't answer, just gripped your hand tightly in his fist and pulled you through the crowd, drunken bodies bumping up against you as you went. When you arrived at the table, you were correct in assuming he had found a couple girls to hang out with, but Maria was also there, her back slightly turned from the others as she scrolled on her phone. When she saw you approach, her eyes lit up with relief and pulled you into a hug.

"You smell like an ashtray," she said immediately, and you scowled in Joel's direction but he was holding out your favorite drink and just like that, your annoyance disappeared.

Maria moved her purse so you could fit into the booth beside her while Joel somehow crawled over the two blonde girls with very fake tans and eyelashes, plopping down in between them on the other side of the booth and spreading his arms around each of their shoulders with a grin. You thought you heard him asking what they were majoring in and you tried to hide your cringe by turning towards Maria.

"Sorry I'm late," you told her, pulling out your phone and pausing when you saw a text from a number you didn't immediately recognize.

"Sam asked you to work late again? You're too nice, I woulda told him to shove it," she said with a giggle.

"He's not so bad once you get him away from all the other lawyers," you replied, taking a sip from your drink and glancing over at the bar. You spotted Tommy in his white tank top looking sweaty, even from a distance. Friday nights were always packed at the bar, but he usually made really good money so he didn't mind.

"Ooo, so you like him?" she teased while you felt a flash of heat crawl over your chest.

"Who?" Joel shouted from across the table, causing you both to turn in his direction. One of the blondes was losing interest, her smokey eyes drifting around the bar, but the other one was definitely trying to inch her hand towards his lap and doing a terrible job of being subtle.

"Nobody!" you said with a shake of your head, then looked at Maria again. "I don't like him like that. I'm just saying he isn't always a dick."

Maria gave you a look but let it go, and just as you were about to check the mystery text, she leaned into your shoulder and said, "I really wish you and Joel tried to make it work. I don't know how much longer I can stand watching him with these bimbos every weekend."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles, pulling Joel's attention towards you both once again.

As he was about to open his mouth to call out to you, the blonde who was laying it on way too thick snatched his chin roughly in her hand, acrylic nails digging into his beard, and yanked his focus back onto her.

"Why do you keep paying attention to her?" she demanded, her words sharp and her tone angry. Joel frowned. "She's not the one rubbing your dick!"

You whipped your head towards Maria and made a face, both of you doing your best to stifle your laughter.

"I'm sorry, baby," Joel cooed, but the two girls were already getting up. "Hey, c'mon now, don't be like that!" he tried, but they left hand in hand, the one who yelled at him turning around and flipping him the middle finger before disappearing into the crowd.

When he looked over at the two of you, you burst out laughing.

"She was a little nuts," he said with a smirk, then leaned forward on the table so he could hear you both better.

"I'm fairly certain they were going to rob you," Maria told him, rolling her eyes and taking a drink. "Don't you get enough action at work? Why do you even bother picking up girls from the bar?"

"It ain't the same, Maria," Joel argued, then launched into a whole tirade about how sex at work is scripted and nowhere near as fun as a real-life encounter, but you zoned out and decided to check your phone. You didn't judge Joel for his profession, but you still didn't like to hear about it. Sliding open the unread text, your eyes widened when you realized you were opening the text chain from Sam, the screenshot of your Uber listed right above his text.

Went to a bar instead? Did I work you too hard?

"What is it?" Maria asked when she noticed your face.

"Uh," you stammered, unable to think of a lie quickly enough, "it's Sam."

"Sam?!" she exclaimed, and Joel perked up, watching the both of you like he was watching a tennis match. "How does he have your number, exactly?"

"He bought me an Uber tonight as a thank you for working late and he sent me the ride info," you explained quickly before rubbing your forehead nervously.

"Who's Sam?" Joel asked, but you both ignored him.

"What did he say?" she asked, tilting your phone in her direction then raising her eyebrows after she read his text.

"He must have gotten an alert on his app that I changed my destination," you reasoned, and once again, Joel spoke up.

"Who's Sam?"

"What are you gonna say?" she asked, and you waved her off.

"It doesn't matter! It's not a big deal!"

"Hey! Who is Sam?" Joel tried for the third time, but louder.

"He's some lawyer we work with. The guy that's had her working overtime for the past week," Maria said quickly before turning back to you. "I bet he likes you."

Joel felt a twist in his gut but remained silent.

"No, he doesn't. Don't be ridiculous," you said, locking your phone and putting it back down on the table, leaving his message on read.

"Why is that ridiculous? He could have chosen any of the aides to help him but he hand selected you," she said pointedly, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. You chewed nervously on your lip before narrowing your focus on your phone, deciding that ignoring him wasn't very nice.

Just meeting up with some friends. Thank you again for the Uber!

You tilted your phone towards Maria and she nodded her approval just when Sam's response came through.

You're welcome. Have a drink for me. I'll be stuck at the office prepping for this trial all weekend.

Maria raised her eyebrows. "That was a fast response," she said, and you dismissed her while Joel sipped on his drink and watched you quietly.

I will be sure to do that. Good luck on Monday!

"Hey guys," Tommy said, suddenly appearing at your table. Maria's face lit up and she stood to lean over you, giving him a kiss. You locked eyes with Joel and fake gagged, making him smirk.

"I get off in an hour. Did you wanna stick 'round and we can hit Denny's or somethin'?"

You groaned, your eyes already feeling heavy, desperate to get some sleep, but the three of them goaded you into sticking it out. In the end, you were grateful because you didn't realize until you entered the diner that you were starving.

Tommy and Maria sat on one side of the booth while you and Joel sat on the other, and once you all got your food, Tommy cleared his throat and shot Maria a pointed look. Joel was too engrossed in his burger, but you noticed and raised an eyebrow.

"We wanted to talk to you guys about something," she began, making you both pause.

"It's 'bout us movin' in together," Tommy said, and Joel leaned back in the booth, tilting his head to the side curiously. "We found a really great place. It's a steal, really great neighborhood, taxes ain't that bad. The deck needs to be redone and the carpet needs to be replaced, but-"

"Wait, a deck?" Joel asked, "You're lookin' at houses? I thought you were lookin' at apartments."

"We were, but it just feels like throwin' money away on rent when you can invest in property. Any repairs, you 'n me can handle, Joel, but the only problem is the mortgage," he said, wrapping his arm around Maria's shoulders and letting her take over.

"It's a little out of our price range," she admitted, "but we really love the area and we really, really love the house, so we were talking about it and we thought - why not ask you guys to move in with us?"

Both you and Joel fell silent, the unexpected request taking you by surprise.

"It doesn't have to be forever. Once I pass the bar and become an attorney, my hope is that we will be able to afford the mortgage on our own. But we figured we would be displacing you guys already, and sharing the mortgage and utilities over four people would be so cheap. You could both save up so much money for a better place one day," she said, the lawyer in her coming out as she gave you the hard sell.

You glanced over at Joel and he looked back at you, both of you trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

"Here, let me show you the place and maybe that will help," Maria said, pulling out her phone and finding the house on Zillow before sliding the device between you both. You let Joel swipe through the photos hastily before he scrolled down and focused on the details of the house, the whole table silent as you thought their proposal over.

"It's got three bedrooms and two baths, that ain't too bad," Joel said, "and the furnace is pretty new. Roof might need replacin' in a few years."

"Yeah, but I know a guy. Jerry, remember him? He could get me a deal," Tommy said, and Joel hummed to himself as he continued to examine the listing.

"What do you think?" Maria asked you nervously. You looked up at her and took a deep breath.

"I like the area. The house is cute," you said, "but won't it be weird for you having roommates? Don't you guys want your privacy or whatever?"

They both shook their heads and furrowed their brows. "It's just you guys. It's not like we're dorming with complete strangers. You're our closest friends," Maria said.

"Besides, you would be over most of the time, anyway," Tommy joked, making you all chuckle.

When Joel was done looking at the listing, he slid Maria's phone back across the table and met your eye.

"What'dya think?" he asked softly, and you pursed your lips.

"I mean, it's a really great deal," you said seriously, "I just hope our roommates aren't complete freaks and into weird shit."

You saw Tommy and Maria each smile excitedly across the table out of the corner of your eye, but you kept your gaze trained on Joel.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Joel said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What if there's a curfew or bullshit rules we need to follow."

"Like if we're only allowed to do laundry on certain days or can't flush the toilet past 10pm?"

"Or can't sit on the furniture unless we bought it?" he added.

"Or-"

"Alight, enough!" Maria exclaimed, cracking your facade.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in," you told her, then glanced back at Joel. He was still looking at you, something flickering in his eye before he replied.

"Me, too. Why not?"

Tommy and Maria celebrated gleefully as you watched in amusement, both of you blissfully unaware of what was to come.

"What the hell are in these boxes, anyway?" Joel asked as he re-entered your bedroom, rolling his shoulder. You tried not to focus too much on how his sweat was beginning to dampen the collar of his shirt, so you looked back towards your remaining boxes.

"I don't have much, Joel," you said with a roll of your eyes. "My whole world is pretty much in this one room."

"Yeah, well, your world is fuckin' heavy, darlin'," he said as he picked up one of the last boxes with a grunt. You grabbed a box of your own and followed him through the empty apartment to the moving truck waiting on the street.

"What's left?" Tommy asked as he took the box from your hands.

"Just my bedframe."

"Can you guys handle it or d'you need my help?" he asked, and before you could reply, Joel shook his head.

"We got it," he assured Tommy, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he made his way back inside while you followed dutifully behind.

"I'm gonna miss this place," you said wistfully as you walked through the apartment towards your bedroom, your eyes drifting over the barren kitchen and uncovered windows. "Lot of memories here."

"You're tellin' me," Joel mumbled under his breath, and just as you were about to ask him to repeat himself, he spoke again. "Did Maria tell you 'bout their dinner idea?"

You chuckled as you followed him into your bedroom. "Yeah, where we each take turns making dinner every day and then we eat as a family?"

Joel rolled his eyes at you, acting like he was annoyed, but his mouth was twitching playfully. "I can't cook for shit. I'll be bringin' home KFC and hidin' the containers in the trash."

"I can help you cook," you said almost immediately, and he allowed the grin to spread across his face.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, why not?" you shrugged, leaning up against the wall by your headboard. "You did help me move all my heavy shit, after all. It's the least I could do."

He hummed in response, grin still plastered across his face as his eyes danced over your headboard. You could tell he was thinking about something but didn't want to say it, so you poked him in the shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothin'. You grab that end, and-"

"Nuh uh. What was that all about?" you said, cutting him off and waving your finger in the air in front of his face. "I saw that look."

"You didn't see shit, little lady," he countered, but you held your ground.

"Bullshit," you teased, and he chuckled and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Spill."

His eyes lifted up mischievously and you should have known then you were in trouble right then and there.

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes," you replied quickly. Too quickly. He pressed his lips together, trying to hide his smile before answering.

"I was thinkin' 'bout how we nearly broke this damn thing not too long ago," he said, one hand on the headboard, his voice an octave lower than usual.

You stared at him in surprise, breath shallow and pulse racing as you tried to formulate a response. It was the first time either of you acknowledged the time you slept together, to the point where you were beginning to think you dreamed it up. But here he was, the very same day you were moving in with him, fucking talking about it like it was no big deal.

"I, uh," you stammered as your face heated up from embarrassment, your eyes flicking around your empty room aimlessly. What do you even say to that?

"Do you ever think 'bout it?" he asked, doing a terrible job at hiding his nervousness. "'Bout that night? D'you ever-"

"I don't know, Joel," you answered, heart hammering in your chest. "Maybe, sometimes? I-I don't know."

"'Cause I do," he continued, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"No," you said, squeezing your eyes shut, "c'mon, stop messing with me and just-"

"It was the best sex of my life," he said, cutting you off. Your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced to catch up with what he just confessed. Out of the blue. Completely sober. No excuses.

"Stop it," you said weakly, your voice holding no conviction.

As he was about to say something else, Tommy's voice echoed through the apartment.

"C'mon, already, what the hell?"

You dropped your hands to grip your headboard and nodded towards him, your gaze fixed on your hands, refusing to look at him. "You ready?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before shouting back, "On our way!" and looked at you, eyes skimming over your face. "I'm sorry. Forget I said anythin'."

"It's fine. I asked for it, I guess," you shrugged as you tried to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

You could tell he wanted to say more, his hesitation palpable, but he just sighed and grabbed the other end of the headboard.

"Alright?"

Your gaze drifted up to his and you locked eyes for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between you, before you cleared your throat and focused on the task at hand.

"So who's in charge of dinner tonight?" you asked, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears as you carried your headboard through the apartment and down the stairs.

"Better not be me, I'm fuckin' exhausted," he said, and as you stepped outside, it was like nothing had even happened. When he approached the truck, he and Tommy started bickering about who was going to drive the truck to the new house while you and Maria clamored into the backseat. When you found yourselves alone, you briefly wondered if you should tell her what Joel said, then immediately decided against it.

You knew Joel. You knew it didn't mean anything, so there was no point in telling Maria. She already gave you a hard enough time about not giving Joel a chance. You didn't need to give her any more ammunition, so you let it go.

Joel ended up driving the moving truck to the new house while Tommy fiddled with the radio and you stared quietly out the window.

"Hey, what do you think?" Maria asked, nudging your leg. You swiveled your head towards her with a frown.

"About what?"

She gave you a look before repeating herself, "Pizza sound good for tonight?"

"Oh," you said, then nodded and gave her a smile. "Yeah, sounds great." While Maria busied herself with finding a pizza place close to your new home, your eyes drifted lazily around the cab. Tommy was saying something about going grocery shopping tomorrow and Maria began jotting down a list when your eyes locked on Joel's in the review mirror. It was only a few seconds, but it felt longer. By the way you caught him looking at you, it was obvious he was still thinking about that moment in your bedroom. You wished you would have said more, but you had no idea what you even wanted to say.

Then the light turned green and his eyes flicked away, focusing back on the road before turning down your new street.

"Let's just get the essential stuff outta the truck for the night and we can finish the rest tomorrow. I'm fuckin' beat," Tommy said once you pulled into the driveway and Joel cut the engine.

You all agreed, and while Maria ordered two pizzas, the brothers slid open the back of the truck and began to pull out a mattress, you jogged up to the front door, unlocking it and propping it open before meeting them back in the driveway and grabbing a box of dishware.

In one hour, you had all managed to unload some kitchen essentials and all three beds into your respective rooms. You almost got the TV hooked up in the living room by the time the pizza was delivered, so you all took a break to eat in the middle of the floor, using unpacked moving boxes as tables while the sun began to set outside.

"Tell me someone grabbed a box of towels, I'm dyin' to take a shower," Joel said around a mouthful of pizza.

"Yep, I did," Maria replied, setting her beer bottle down on the carpet. "I didn't unpack it but it's upstairs next to your bathroom. Should be some soap in there, too, but if not, there's some in my duffel bag."

Your bathroom. Meaning the bathroom you and Joel were planning to share since Maria and Tommy took the master suite, which had it's own bathroom attached.

"That okay by you if I shower first?" Joel turned to you and you nodded.

"Yeah, I was just gonna go relax anyway."

Before it got too dark outside, Tommy made sure everybody had what they needed for the night from the truck before he pulled down the rollup door and locked it. You heard both showers going from your bedroom, your door half open as you sat on the edge of your mattress, your bedframe still unassembled and leaning against the wall, while you hunched over your TV. You had almost gotten it all hooked up by the time you heard your bathroom door open and the lights flick off from across the hall. Joel walked slowly down the hall towards his bedroom, still drying his hair with a towel as he went, when he paused outside your room. He leaned up against your doorframe with a smirk as he watched you struggle with your TV.

"You just gonna stand there or get in here and help me?" you said without turning around, and he laughed. When he entered your field of vision to take a look at the cords hanging from the back of the TV, you immediately regretted inviting him in. He was wearing loose pajama pants and nothing else, save for a bath towel that was draped around his broad shoulders, which he quickly flung off when it began to interfere with him being able to see what he was working on. The fresh scent of soap mixed with his natural musk invaded your senses, temporarily stunning you.

You tried not to stare, you really did, but it was like you couldn't help it. Seeing his exposed chest and back instantly transported you back to the last time you saw him undressed. Images of his body on top of you, caging you in, clouded your vision. The way his muscles twitched under his bronzed skin reminded you what they felt like under your fingers but the worst part was when he finished, he bent down to lift your TV with a deep groan that sounded exactly like the groans he muffled into your neck that night. Your chest and face felt flush as you stumbled across your room, creating some distance between you.

"What're you doin'?" Joel asked, still focused on centering your TV on the stand. You flung open your bedroom window and practically shoved your entire head outside.

"It's hot, I need some fresh air in here," you said, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. What had gotten into you?

Joel sighed and straightened up before clicking some buttons on your remote. You watched from your window as his brow furrowed in concentration, his pecs jumping slightly when his thumb pressed down on a button, and then your eyes traveled down. His pajama pants, hung low on his hips, hardly did anything to hide the outline of his dick and you found yourself swallowing the lump in your throat when you were reminded of his size. Sometimes you wondered if your memory played tricks on you, that maybe you were just out of practice and he wasn't as big as you thought, but one quick glance confirmed you were right the first time.

"Think you're good to go," he said, seemingly oblivious to the hungry way you had been staring at him. You blinked rapidly and forced your attention somewhere, anywhere, else.

"Thanks," you murmured, then cleared your throat awkwardly, "you can just leave the remote there," you added, not looking to get any closer.

He did as you asked, putting the remote on your TV stand, but lingered a moment longer. He brought his hands up to rest on his hips, giving you a full view of the broad span of his chest and arms. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you 'bout earlier," he began, and you momentarily forgot what he was talking about. Then it clicked.

"Oh, you don't-"

"I'm sorry for what I said. I don't wanna make things weird, 'specially now that we're livin' together. I don't know what I was even thinkin', it just slipped out, I didn't mean it," he said earnestly, and you could see he looked worried, like he was afraid he had ruined something between you.

You knew what he meant. You knew what he was trying to do, but he just seemed to have a gift for causing you to do or say things out of character.

So, without thinking, you replied, "it wasn't the best sex of your life, then?"

From where you were sitting, it almost looked like he had stopped breathing. His hands were still on his hips, his eyes glued to your face, but his jaw tensed and his chest stilled.

You quickly realized your mistake and forced a laugh.

"I'm messing with you, it's totally fine," you said, and he cracked a nervous smile before taking a deep breath and dropping his arms to his sides.

"You're trouble," he murmured with a chuckle, snatching his towel from your bed and heading to your door. He glanced over at you once more, still perched near your open window, watching him leave. "G'night," he said softly, then stepped back out into the hall, closing your door behind him.

You let out a shaky breath the second you were alone again and rubbed your face. You were tired and he just took you by surprise earlier. That's all it was. Nothing more. You had both agreed to be friends and you were actually really fucking good at it. Neither of you wanted to risk that.

By the time you had gotten ready for bed, all tucked in and flipping through the TV to find something to fall asleep to, you had convinced yourself it all meant nothing and at most, it was just a little harmless flirting.

But then your phone pinged somewhere within your tangled sheets, and when you fished it out and read the text waiting for you, your heart fluttered excitedly in your chest.

It was, by the way. Just needed to clear that up.

"Alright, you guys have your list?"

For the third time, you dug the folded up piece of notebook paper from the back pocket of your denim shorts and held it up between your fingers. Maria nodded approvingly.

"Yep," you confirmed before shoving it in your pocket and wiping some sweat from the back of your neck. It was a hot Friday afternoon, the Friday before the long July 4th weekend. Maria had come up with the idea of hosting a barbecue at the new house and invited approximately thirty of your closest friends to come see the place for the first time. Although it had been nearly a month since the move, it took a while to coordinate your time off, so the barbecue ended up acting as a Fourth of July/Housewarming party.

You had never been very good at planning parties, so when Maria proposed the idea a couple weeks prior, you were hesitant until you saw her meticulous eye for detail and organization in action. She had already come up with a guest list, thoughtfully inviting friends and family from all sides, and had half the menu already planned out.

It was easy to agree after that.

The party wasn't until Sunday, but she had dedicated Friday for errands and grocery shopping and Saturday for cleaning. You would have rolled your eyes at how motherly she was being if you didn't sincerely appreciate her efforts.

"Me and Tommy'll go pick up the fireworks and the tables and chairs. Hopefully we'll be done by the time you guys get back from the store," she said over her shoulder, heading towards Tommy's truck. "Gimme a call if you have any questions!"

"Yes, ma'am," Joel said with a lopsided grin, then slid his sunglasses over his eyes and dug his keys out of his pocket. The pair of you clamored into Joel's truck, the still, hot air nearly suffocating you. The heat managed to enhance the scent of his truck. A familiar, masculine scent that you always associated with Joel. A mix of leather, mint, cigarettes, and stale coffee that sent your body reeling when you took a deep breath. Fortunately, he rolled down both windows the moment he started the car and the air became diluted with the scent of hot asphalt and fresh cut grass.

"Where to first?" he asked as he backed out of the driveway.

"Let's hit the dollar store. I don't want our groceries sitting in this heat for too long."

He hummed and you leaned back into the passenger seat, letting the warm summer air wash over you as he drove. He flicked the radio on, twisting the dial with two fingers, eyes still trained on the road, until he found a song he liked and turned up the volume. Heart blasted through the speakers as he drove down the street, heading towards the direction in town where all the stores and restaurants were clustered.

Rolling your head lazily to the side, you peeked at him over your sunglasses. "Magic Man, huh?"

He grinned, that dimple popping up in the middle of his cheek, the one you always found yourself admiring lately whenever he smiled big enough.

"You ain't a fan?"

"Didn't say that. Just surprised you are."

"I got ears, don't I?" he teased, and you giggled before looking straight ahead again. "You wanna watch a movie tonight?"

"Yeah, maybe," you said non-committedly as you gazed out the window, houses blurring your vision as you sped by. "Told my mom I would call her later if I had the time."

"She comin' Sunday?" he asked. You snorted and shook your head.

"Nah, not really her thing," you replied, "besides, her boyfriend's got a boat. They were gonna watch fireworks over the river."

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he pulled into the parking lot. "Can't really blame her, then."

"What about your mom?" you asked when he turned off the truck. He waited until you had both slid out of your seats and rounded the front of the car before replying. "Yeah, she's gonna try 'n stop by. Think she's excited to see Tommy all domesticated and shit."

You laughed as you followed him into the store. The automatic doors slid open, smooth, ice cold air washing over your skin, and you sighed in relief.

You made short work of picking up the tablecloths, disposable cutlery and paper products Maria instructed you to get, but when your back was turned, Joel snuck in an armful of red, white and blue leis, as well as some matching pinwheels. Then you noticed sunglasses in the shape of stars sitting on a nearby rack and before you knew it, your cart was full of cheap, ridiculous decorations that was definitely not on your list.

"Maria's gonna kill us," you told him, but Joel just shrugged.

"She shoulda known better than to send us here. Kinda feels like her fault," he replied, winking at you before swiping his card through the card reader. Biting back the flirty smile that always threatened to pull across your face whenever he winked at you, instead you focused on piling all your bags into your cart.

If you thought there was nothing to distract you from your list at the grocery store, you were sorely mistaken. Every aisle you went down, Joel managed to find something he wanted to buy, and he was very good at dragging you down with him.

"Oh my god, do you remember animal crackers in the little box?" you squealed, holding one up by the string. He leaned over the handle of cart, smiling warmly at how excited you were.

"Toss 'em in," he told you.

"They're not even a dollar each, what harm could it do?" you reasoned, then fell in step beside him as he steered the cart towards the meat section. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you grimaced. "Maria," you said, and he shot you a feigned look of terror, as if the two of you had been caught doing something bad.

"What does she want?"

"She's just wondering if we're almost done. She says Tommy will need your help when we get back," you replied, chin tucked against your chest as you walked and tapped out an answer. Joel was picking out ribs as you shoved your phone back in your pocket and glanced around the store, seeing a pair of girls in their mid twenties staring slack jawed in your direction from the cracker aisle. You followed their gaze to Joel, who was blissfully unaware, tossing racks of ribs into your cart.

"Do you know them?" you asked under your breath. He looked up and met your eye.

"Who?"

You began to slowly walk towards the hotdogs. "The two girls in aisle twelve. They were staring at you," you explained, trying to keep your voice low. He pretended to stretch his arms above his head as he walked and twisted his neck in their direction, locking eyes with them both and causing them to flush with embarrassment and look away.

"No, don't think so," he said, but just as he was grabbing a few packs of hotdogs, you saw the girls hesitantly approach from the corner of your eye.

"Excuse me," the one with darker hair said, both of their phones clutched in their hands. Joel turned around and shot them a crooked smile, his eyes raking up and down their bodies appreciatively before he replied.

"Can I help you ladies?"

"Ohmygod, it's him," the other girl said, clapping her palm over her mouth once they heard his accent. You leaned against the cart, watching the interaction, completely lost.

"You're Joel, right?" the first girl asked, and he nodded. "Oh wow, we're big fans," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, and then it clicked. They recognized him from his job.

Joel blushed a little as the girls continued to lavish him with praise and then asked to take a few selfies, the whole while your stomach twisted into knots. They began to ask him questions: what was he doing there? Did he enjoy his job? Does he have anything new coming out soon? And when you finally had enough, you cleared your throat, dragging his attention back to you.

"Sorry ladies, gotta run. It was great to meet you," he said before detaching himself from their grip on his arms and walking back to you with a guilty look. "Sorry. What else do we need?"

Sunday was even hotter, somehow. Sweat trickled down your neck and back as you worked with Maria to decorate the inside of the house while the boys were in the backyard, setting up tables, yard games, and coolers with drinks.

"Is that air conditioner even fucking working?" Maria grumbled as she shot the window unit a glare from across the room.

"Yeah, but it's too damn hot and we're moving around too much," you said, lifting your hair off your neck and wiping away the sweat that collected there. "Are we almost done? I wanna shower before Joel. He takes forever."

"Yeah, just gotta bring up the bottles of water from the basement and I think we should be all set. I don't wanna open any bags of chips til people get here."

"Good idea," you said, following her downstairs to grab a case of water.

"Do you know who Kayla and Riley are?" she asked once you both dropped your waters on the kitchen floor. You struggled to catch your breath and shook your head.

"No, why?"

"Joel invited them last minute. Said he ran into them at the store, thought you maybe knew them or something."

"He what?" you asked, your eyes widening.

"What's the problem? Jealous?" she teased, and you felt that familiar twist in your gut.

"No, of course not," you huffed, "they're a couple girls who recognized him in the store. From his movies," you explained pointedly, and Maria let out a low whistle and hopped up onto the counter to sit.

"Wow, that's kind of crazy, but Tommy did mention Joel had some movie recently that really took off. Went viral or whatever. So maybe he'll start getting noticed more and more now."

"Oh," you said in surprise, gaze drifting aimlessly around the room. "I didn't know that. I mean, I don't really talk about work with him, but... that's great, I guess. Good for him."

Bending over, you ripped open a pack of water bottles and tossed one towards Maria before grabbing one for yourself.

You each took quiet sips from your water, the only noise coming from Joel and Tommy cursing outside as they got distracted from setting up and instead, found themselves in a competitive game of cornhole.

"Did Tommy, uh," you began, trying and failing to sound casual, "did Tommy say what the movie was about?"

Maria grinned and swung her legs back and forth over the edge of the counter. "I think he played a teacher that gets seduced by his student for better grades," she said, watching your reaction closely. "Why? You gonna look it up later?"

You snapped your eyes back up and gasped. "No!"

Maria laughed as your face and chest got hot. "I'm just kidding! I know how you feel about all that. But..."

She trailed off and you propped your hands on your hips in disapproval. "What?"

"I've always wondered if his movies are similar to how he is in real life," she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"You've watched his movies before?!"

"Shh! They're gonna hear you!" she said in a panic while your jaw hung open in shock. "What? Is that bad? It's bad, isn't it? I was just curious so I looked him up once... or twice."

"Maria! It's your boyfriend's brother! Gross!" you chastised her, but couldn't stop the corners of your mouth from twitching up into a grin, which quickly escalated into laughter. The sliding door to the deck opened and the brothers stepped inside, bringing with them a hot blast of air.

"What's so funny?" Tommy asked as he made his way to the sink, giving Maria a peck on the lips as he passed by.

"Nothing!" she said, shooting you a playful glare.

"I'm gonna shower," Joel said, sweat glistening off his tanned skin and grabbing your half empty water bottle, chugging the rest as he made his way for the stairs.

"Shit! I wanted to shower first!" you said, trailing after him up the steps.

He stopped outside his bedroom and shot you a devastating smile, the one that brought out his dimple and made your knees weak.

"Then let's shower together. Problem solved," he joked, and you felt warmth bloom low in your belly.

"Perv," you finally managed to shoot back, hoping he didn't catch the tension in your voice.

"What? Nothin' I ain't seen before," he teased before turning and heading into his room. "Go ahead, darlin', I'll wait," he said over his shoulder, leaving you paralyzed for a moment before you forced your feet to move.

As if you needed another reason to take a cold shower.

You had never met Joel and Tommy's mom before, but Maria dragged you over to meet her shortly after she had arrived. Based on what Maria told you, she was super sweet and easy to get along with. You quickly discovered she was right.

When Maria introduced you by name, you thought you saw a flash of recognition in her eye before she warmly shook your hand, clasping both of hers around your one, and gave you an endearing smile.

Maybe you had a few too many drinks by that point or maybe she was just that easy to get along with, but Mrs. Miller ended up seated with you on the deck, each of you with a drink in hand as she divulged to you her entire dating history. She had made it to the first boyfriend she had after Joel and Tommy's father passed away when Joel jogged up the steps, beer in hand.

"Mama, you're keepin' her from the whole party."

You both waved him off with matching frowns.

"She's a grown woman, Joel. She can make decisions for herself."

"And I wanna stay because we were just getting to the good part," you added with a tipsy giggle. Joel picked up on the tone in your voice and quirked a playful eyebrow in your direction. "But I do have to use the restroom really quickly, so if you excuse me," you said, and Joel's mother nodded as you stood up and headed into the house. Mrs. Miller smiled at your retreating form, and once you disappeared from view she swiveled back angrily towards her son.

"The hell's the matter with you?"

"What?" Joel asked, holding his arms out to his side defensively.

"What're you doin' with those two floozies when you got her right under your own roof?"

"Dammit, Mama, I already told you," Joel groaned with a shake of his head, "it can't work between us. We tried. We're just friends."

His mother huffed and stood up, brushing off the back of her sundress before pointing a finger up in her son's face.

"You're gettin' up there, Joel. You gotta think 'bout settlin' down sooner or later. One day you're gonna wake up and these types of girls," she waved her finger in the direction of Riley and Kayla, "ain't gonna want anythin' to do with you. You mark my words."

Joel sighed and turned around, leaning against the railing of the deck, and observed the party in full swing below him on the lawn. The sun was just beginning to set and Tommy was starting a bonfire.

"Even your brother's found a good girl," his mother said, her tone softer now as she sidled up next to him. "I just wanna see you both happy, is all."

"I am happy, Mama."

Mrs. Miller gave him a sideways glance before shaking her head and turning back around.

"Okay, then," she said, but her tone implied she didn't believe him.

Right at that moment, you slid the door open and walked back out onto the deck with a million dollar smile, and his mother lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I'm gonna head out, sweetie," she told you, and your face fell.

"So soon? You won't even stay for the fireworks?"

Mrs. Miller pinched your chin and smiled. "I've seen a lot of fireworks in my day. You enjoy, and keep an eye on my son," she said, turning to give Joel a mischievous wink. "Contrary to popular belief, he needs a lot of tendin' to."

You giggled and Joel felt a warmth spread across his chest at the sound, so he took a sip from his beer and looked away.

His mother kissed him goodbye before trudging across the lawn to say goodnight to her second born and you took up residence next to him against the railing. His skin already prickled from being so close to you, despite the heat that still lingered in the air.

"I like her," you said, taking a sip from your solo cup. "She's got moxie."

Joel chuckled softly and tipped his face in your direction. "Moxie?"

"Yeah," you said with a shrug, your eyes still following his mother across the lawn, "she doesn't tolerate any bullshit and doesn't let anything hold her back. Moxie."

He hummed as he considered your words and took another drag from his beer.

"She likes you."

You grinned, delighted, as you turned to him.

"Oh yeah? Did you talk about me?" you teased, but when he slowly nodded and his expression remained stoic, your excitement dwindled and smile faded.

"Mhmm," was all he said as he gazed at you, eyes a little glassy from the booze and cheeks a little pink from the heat. Your breath caught in your throat, the look on his face rendering you temporarily speechless. You wondered what was said, you wondered what she knew, and you were on the verge of asking those questions and more before Joel's guests bounced up the steps to the deck and managed to squeeze themselves underneath both his arms.

"Where have you been?" one of them whined, her dress too short and her neckline too low as she pouted up at him, but his eyes were still stuck on you. Watching your reaction to these two younger girls eagerly offering themselves up to him on a silver platter. You had drank too much. You couldn't control your facial expressions the way you typically could, so he saw it. He saw the jealousy flicker across your face. The distaste in the way the corners of your mouth turned down and your nose scrunched up. And then you looked away, your whole body turning so you couldn't see even a sliver of them.

Under normal circumstances, seeing jealousy in the eyes of someone he wanted, someone he yearned for, someone he fucking ached for, would send him to cloud nine. But not that night. No, that night he felt like shit when he saw that look on your face.

He didn't want to make you jealous. He didn't know what he was thinking, inviting the girls from the supermarket to the party. It was a dumb move, just a knee-jerk reaction.

But what did it matter if you wouldn't be with him anyway? He was never going to make you his again. Not unless he quit his job, and even then, he wasn't sure it would be enough. And how could he even consider that as an option? When his career was just starting to take off and he had no other experience or skills?

He determined his mother was just getting in his head and tried to shake it off.

"Sorry, girls. Wanna get a drink?" he asked, and they both nodded eagerly up at him as he led them towards the sliding glass door, disappearing inside and leaving you alone on the deck.

You needed to make sure you were not still standing there when they came back out. If they came back out. You stumbled down the steps, the image of Joel taking both girls up to his bedroom haunting you, the sounds you would hear through the walls making your stomach roll. You were too preoccupied with your own insane thoughts, wondering what he would say to them, what he would do to them, if it would be similar to what he said and did to you that one time when you ran smack dab into the back of another guest.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" you squeaked, eyes wide with embarrassment as you looked up at the mystery man you rudely bumped into.

A pair of crystal blue eyes locked onto yours with a warm smile. An arm shot out to steady you, turning his back on the group of people he was speaking with while you quickly took in his appearance. He had tousled brown hair and a chiseled jaw with just a smattering of facial hair, like maybe he didn't choose to shave over the weekends, and was wearing a button up white linen shirt with his sunglasses dangling from the collar.

"No need to apologize," he said, his voice smooth and deep. He dropped his hand from your arm, as if he just remembered he was still holding onto you, and shoved it into the pocket of his shorts. "Not sure we've met. I'm Charlie."

You tucked a loose hair behind your ear and smiled, telling him your name and explaining you shared the house with your roommates.

"Oh, so you're the other roommate. Tommy was telling me about the four of you earlier, how you all chipped in and bought the house," his eyes drifted up to the back of the house behind you and pointed his finger towards it while still gripping his beer bottle. "It's a great place. Nice yard. Seems like a good neighborhood. You liking it?" he asked, turning his attention back to you.

"Uh, yeah," you said, taken aback at the way he looked right through you, and cleared your throat, "it's great. Better than a shitty little apartment," you joked, making him laugh.

"I know what you mean. I'm currently renting my own shitty little apartment. Can't wait to find a place of my own one day."

Charlie, aside from being objectively attractive, was easy to talk to, which was a huge win. You spent almost twenty minutes listening to him tell you how he knew Tommy and what he did for work and miraculously not once did your mind wander to Joel.

But unbeknownst to you, Joel and his two friends emerged from the house back onto the now empty deck. He had plopped himself down in the middle of the porch swing, each girl tucking themselves into his sides and, given the privacy of the area, began to trail their hands up his thighs and torso. He was grinning, watching as their lips playfully nipped at his exposed neck and chest while their hands got dangerously close to his hardening cock when he saw you talking to some fucking guy he didn't recognize all the way on the other side of the lawn.

The smile slid from his face but the girls didn't notice. They kept going, one nibbling on his earlobe before reaching across his chest and locking lips with her friend, both their hands venturing in between his legs, but he no longer felt himself getting hard. In fact, the opposite was happening. And had he been in the right frame of mind, he might have been embarrassed, but all he could focus on was the way that guy was touching your elbow and how you smiled so sweetly at him.

And it really pissed him off.

"Joel?" one of the girls said, breaking away from the other and rubbing her hand over the fly of his shorts. "Something wrong?"

He took a deep breath, eyes still trained on you, body still unresponsive to their touch.

"Sorry, Kayla, my-"

"I'm Riley," she said, pulling her hand back and straightening up, her brow furrowing a bit.

"Shit, sorry," Joel mumbled, dragging his eyes away from you, "I think I drank too much. Gonna have to take a rain check."

Riley scoffed and stood, fixing her dress.

"You're a fucking pornstar and you can't get it up for two girls making out right in front of you?" she snapped.

Joel's eyes widened as Kayla stood to join her friend, casting him an angry glare.

"Ladies, it's not you, I ain't-"

"Whatever. We're leaving," the real Kayla said, snatching Riley by the arm and hauling her down the stairs towards the driveway, leaving Joel all alone on the deck.

His eyes found their way back onto you, right as you were giving that asshole your phone number.

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#ugh these two #the tension is thiccccc #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal

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pimosworld · 10 days

Text

I would skip a million breakfasts for Javier Peña

Make Me Sweat.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+//MDNI!!!!

WC: 6.8k (whoops)

Summary: Javi can't sleep. You can't keep it in your pants recently. Both of you find yourselves dripping on this sunny Saturday morning.

A/N: This is filth. I mean, it's written by me, so it's soft filth, sweet filth, but like, FILTH nonetheless. ♡ Written for my sweet new friend, Kricket @sugarcoated-lame for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange, and inspired by P looking fucking delectable post-workout in that giant navy t-shirt. Thanks, bby boy. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tags: SMUT, PWP, reader understands basic spanish, author is requesting the reader to look up the minimal spanish used themselves if they can't figure it out with context clues, established relationship, f masturbation, sex toys, unprotected PIV, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, body hair mention, reader fits into Javi's oversized t-shirts, reader is able bodied and has female anatomy but otherwise pretty physically undescribed. i think that's it, lmk if i missed something egregious.

Javier woke with a start, heart racing, breaths coming quick and heavy. He closed his eyes and tried to slow, slow, slow it down. Concentrating on his breath, deep inhale, long exhale, again, again, until he felt the parasitic tendrils of his subconsciously derived nightmare recede. He sat up on his side of the bed and ran his palm down his face, the body-warm sheets pooling at the bend of his waist, the cool night air of the bedroom causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh. He peeked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 5:43AM displayed in bright red light, the time taunting him. Too early to do much, too late to get much more sleep. Javi groaned to himself and decided to greet the day earlier than he anticipated. He leaned over to his side, dropping a soft kiss to the shoulder of his bed partner before lifting the sheets from his body and gently scooting out of bed to avoid waking her.

Javi quietly moved around the room in darkness, grabbing a ratty old t-shirt and some athletic shorts out of a dresser drawer before moving to another to grab a pair of socks and clean underwear. He gently opened the door to the bedroom and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. He grabbed the pad of sticky notes and a pen from the junk drawer and left a note. Couldn’t sleep, went to the gym. Be back in a bit, amorcito. Te amo - Javi. He peeled the note from the pad and stuck it to the coffee maker, knowing that was the first place she always stopped in the mornings, sure to be seen, before grabbing his keys and wallet from the bowl on the countertop and heading to his car.

“That’s it, mi amor, there you go. Just like that, cariño. Take it, take it, take it.”

You writhed from your place below him, face buried in the sheets of your shared bed muffling your unabashed sounds of pleasure, hands gripping desperately at anything they could find. Javi’s hips smacked loudly against the flesh of your ass, his cock hitting you exactly how you needed as he pounded into you from behind. You felt your orgasm building, the coil of muscle in your lower belly tightening, cunt tightening and fluttering around him.

“Can feel you, hermosa, she’s so tight, baby. You gonna come for me, hmm? C’mon, baby, come on it, need to feel you squeeze it like I know you can.”

You were right there, just a few more thrusts and you’d be tumbling over the edge. You tip your head to the side, wanting him to really hear it when you come for him. You let yourself be noisy, needy whines leaving your lips unbidden, tears springing to the corners of your eyes, the feeling of his thick cock so wholly overwhelming inside of you. You start to cry out in earnest as you feel your orgasm cresting, tears falling down your cheeks, pussy a tight, tight vice, gripping him so strongly you fear you may be torturing him just as much as he is you.

“Javier! Javier! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please, please, ple–”

You wake with a start. Daylight is only just breaking over the horizon, the cool orange and blue glow of the morning shining through your bedroom window. Your brain begins to register where you are, when you are. You groan and reach over, feeling Javi’s side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You remember your dream and sigh, wishing he was here to finish taking care of you. You look at your nightstand and see the time—just after 6:30AM. You sigh and wonder where he is this early.

“Jav?” you call out. All that meets you is silence. You sigh and flop onto your back. You can try to get yourself off, but it’s never as good as when he’s there with you. You can be a proverbial teenage boy and take a cold shower to try to kill your arousal. You can try to push it from your mind and go make a pot of coffee and just start your day earlier than you’d planned. “Fuck it,” you say to yourself. You roll over to your nightstand and fish your trusty little vibrator from the drawer, turning to lie back and you shuck your wet panties.

You scoot yourself back, propping yourself up a little, making the angle easier to reach as you turn on your toy and bring it down to your mound, teasing yourself a little, trying to ease your mind back into the place your dream had left off. You part your legs, spreading your folds ever so slightly, and you follow with your hand, touch featherlight, barely gliding the vibrator around the outside of your clit. You whimper and let your imagination wander.

“There you are, cariño. Oh, she’s so wet, look at her drip. You’re getting our sheets so messy. That feel nice, baby?” you hear in his voice. You whine and nod to yourself, answering him. “Drag it lower, hermosa, hear how soaked you are?” You obey him, dragging the toy to your entrance, the vibrations meeting the sloppy mess there and causing an obscene splattering, crackling noise to reverberate through the room. You moan out loud at the sound, at how worked up you are. “Delicious, wish I was there to have a taste. Always so sweet when you wake up. Have one for me, baby, get it nice and wet and have a taste,” he instructs in your mind and you comply, dipping the toy inside and giving yourself a few shallow thrusts before pulling it out, viscous line of your slick still attached, snapping over your stomach and leaving drips of you behind as you bring the toy to your mouth and suck, cleaning it of the remaining stickiness and humming at the sweet sour taste of yourself.

You bring your vibrator back down, placing it back down just next to your clit, not wanting to end things too soon. You let Javier’s voice filter back into your head. “Beautiful, baby. Look at you. Goddess in my bed, making herself feel so nice. Go, baby, put it on your clit like you want. Dámelo.” You use your other hand to pull the little hood back, fully exposing the button of your clit to the air for the first time this morning. The feeling sends zings of pleasure down your spine and you shiver, pussy clenching tight with desire. You move the toy to press directly on your button and you see stars behind your eyes, mouth dropping open, a whiny moan escaping your throat.

“Mierda, cariño. Tan hermosa. Come on, baby, rub her nice and fast for me, want to see my girl come,” you hear him say. You click the button to increase the intensity of the vibrations from the toy and start massaging it in tight, firm circles on your clit, the pleasure almost unbearable. You release the little hood from your hold and use your free hand to push up your sleep shirt, pinching at your nipples. The added stimulation was exactly what you needed and you feel your orgasm crash into you like a tidal wave. You cry out in ecstasy, thighs closing of their own accord as your pussy convulses, waves and waves of creamy slick sliding out of you and down to the sheets below. When the vibrations become overstimulating, you press a long click to turn the toy off and toss it to the side. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath and coming back to reality after so thoroughly rocking your own world. You let out a little giggle, happy hormones flooding your system after such a good orgasm. You snuggle into the pillows for a moment, grabbing Javi’s from his side and inhaling the scent of him that lingers there. The smell of him makes you melancholic for a moment, wishing he had actually been here to experience your morning pleasure with you. You give his pillow a squeeze before putting it back on his side of the bed, throwing your legs over your side and forcing yourself to get up.

You head to your ensuite bathroom first. You strip off your sleep shirt and give your naked body a once over in the mirror, turning to the side and admiring the curvature you find there, a thing you despised for years, but have learned to love through the adoring gaze of your partner. You quickly clean yourself up and brush your teeth before walking to your dresser and grabbing a fresh t-shirt and pair of lounge shorts, throwing them on your body.

Once dressed, you make your way to the kitchen. Daylight has broken over the horizon, bright sun warming the space. You yawn and stretch your arms up high over your head. When you open your eyes, you spot a hot pink square attached to the coffee machine. Curious, you walk over to see what it is and make a pot to share with Javi, wherever he is. You grab the bag of grounds, box of filters, and the measuring spoon from the cabinet above, setting them on the counter, and pull the sticky note away, giving it a read. You release some tension you didn't realize you were holding onto now that you know where Javier is, but you frown knowing he was struggling with sleep, hoping it was just a one-off bout of insomnia and not a symptom of a greater issue.

You dump the requisite amount of coffee grounds into a filter, placing them into the brewing compartment of the machine, filling the water compartment and setting the machine to brew. You grab your favorite mugs—yours a, “World’s Best Grandpa,” joke gift from your little brother, his a vintage speckled cup you found while thrifting that he says reminds him of the mug his dad always used when he was a kid—and set them on the counter next to the brewing pot. You rest your hip against the countertop as the coffee percolates and think about Javier’s note, remembering the last time he dealt with insomnia.

It was early into your relationship. Javier had been home from Colombia for barely a year, still adjusting to the new speed of his life stateside, working the ranch with his papá. He had taken you on a date to the drive-in movie theater and fallen asleep within the first half hour. You’d noticed he had looked tired recently, but weren’t sure if it was your place to pry yet, so you let it be, figuring if it was important, he would tell you. You let him snooze for a few minutes before you gently shook him awake.

“Javier? Javi? Hey,” you softly uttered, rousing him.

“Hmm?” he sleepily replied, smacking his lips and tongue.

“You fell asleep. Is everything ok? Should we reschedule?” You ask, trying to convey nothing but genuine concern with your kind eyes and touch.

“I…what?” Javier starts, confused. “I fell asleep?” He’s visibly embarrassed, cheeks reddening and eyes widening. You can feel his heart rate pick up from where your hand rests on his chest.

“You did. It’s ok, I’m not upset,” you console him. “Just want to make sure you’re ok. Is everything alright? I know this,” you gesture between you, “is still pretty new, but, Javi, I want to know things about you. If something is wrong, I want to know, want you to tell me, want to help if I can. I really,” you trail off momentarily, “I care about you, Jav, a lot.”

Javier sighs and lets his head release, falling towards his chest. He takes a couple deep breaths before he meets your eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping. It’s been, fuck,” he swipes his big palm over his face, “a few weeks now? Can’t get more than a few hours at a time. I’ve been, umm,” he considers his next words. You wait patiently, soothingly rubbing your thumb over his chest. “I’ve been having these dreams. Or memories. I…they feel the same, I don’t know how to describe it. And I can’t, fuck, their faces, I can’t stop seeing their faces, cariño.” You feel something wet drip onto the back of your hand and look up, watching as two more tears fall from Javier’s eyes.

“Oh, Javier, come here, baby,” you coo, wiping his tears with your thumbs before winding your arms around his neck, pulling him bodily to you and holding him tight, allowing him to cry into your shoulder. The movie was all but forgotten that night as you turned down the radio and listened to Javier tell you everything he experienced in Colombia. He told you later on how he was terrified he’d scared you off after that night, but when you asked to see him again the next night, he knew you were something special, someone he didn’t want to lose. You come back to the present, hoping this isn’t his PTSD rearing its ugly head again, but prepared to help him through it, whatever he needs, you’re a team.

You decide to get a head start on breakfast, pulling the carton of eggs, the leftover stir fry veggies from your dinner a couple nights ago, and the cartons of strawberries and blueberries out from the fridge. You bend over to grab your trusty cast iron pan from the lower cabinet and place it on the stovetop, setting the temperature and turning on the oven. You reach for the radio that lives in the kitchen and set it to one of yours and Javier’s favorite stations, swaying to the beat of the music as you crack eight of the eggs into a bowl, using a whisk to whip them into a fluffy scramble before adding the leftover veggies. You season the mixture, dumping it into the pan, and placing it in the oven to bake, setting a timer to check it and fluff the mixture before it fully sets. You turn back to the countertop and grab a cutting board, preparing the strawberries when you hear the garage door open, signaling Javier’s return.

Javier was frustrated. He’d slept like shit, had only a mediocre workout, hit just about every red light on the way home, and then realized he’d left his ear buds on the treadmill after he parked his car back at home. He wished he could start the day over. He took a deep breath and tried to re-center himself before making his way inside, not wanting to drag you into his bad mood.

Javi expected to find you still in bed, the time just past 7:00AM on your day off, but he was pleasantly surprised to find you awake and puttering around the kitchen. He knows you heard him enter the house, but took a minute to admire you from behind while you worked, radio crooning one of your favorite songs, your hips swaying to and fro as you cut fruit for your breakfast. He knew he’d been staring too long already, surprised you hadn’t called him out on it yet, so he moved from his spot in the doorway over to you, gently removing the knife from your hand and winding his strong arms around your waist.

“Morning, hermosa,” he said into your messy bed hair, taking a moment to hold you and reset his day. He felt your body relax in his hold, your hands resting over his own, tilting your head to the side and exposing your neck to him. Javier knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth, tilting his head down, nosing along the tendon there, leaving a soft kiss on your pulse point before continuing their descent lower, down your neck and across your shoulder. You sigh and he smiles.

“You stink,” is the first thing you say to him this morning and it makes him laugh, the two of you long past pulling your punches around each other.

“Went to the gym, did you get my note?” Javier checks.

“Mmhmm, thank you for leaving it. Made me feel better, knowing where you were.”

“Mm good,” Javi replies, giving you a squeeze before releasing you to continue fixing your breakfast. “What’cha got going there, baby?”

He watched you pick up the knife and deftly get back to work. “Have a frittata in the oven, slicing up some strawberries, figured we could throw them in with the blueberries since they’re getting old and need to be finished. Made us some coffee, too. Your mug is out on the counter if you want a cup,” you turn your head and nod in the direction of the mugs. He walks by and kisses you on the cheek before grabbing his mug and the full coffee pot, pouring himself a cup.

“Want me to make you one?” he asks, watching as you shake your head in response.

“That’s ok, thank you though. I’ll fix my own in just a minute, want to finish this first,” and as you finish your sentence the timer beeps. Javi leans his hip on the counter, watching as you bend over, giving him a prime view of your juicy behind. Far too invested to care if he gets staring, he notices your cheeks are bare, loose legs of the shorts doing little to conceal what lies beneath as they ride up just enough while you’re bent over the oven, fluffing the eggy mixture of the frittata. He changes the angle, leaning further to the side and tilts his head to get a better view, fully perving on you now, and he catches a peek of what he’d hoped he’d find. Your sweet, soft, wholly bare pussy greets his eyes. Tan hermosa, Javi thinks, loving the way he can see wetness lingering on your lips. He whistles low and soft, causing you to turn to face him, shutting the oven door and resetting the kitchen timer.

“What?” you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest, inadvertently drawing his eyes to your breasts beneath your shirt.

“Just enjoying the view,” Javi replies, taking a slurp of his coffee, casting his eyes down to your now hidden pussy, before lifting them back to meet your gaze. He watches as your breath hitches ever so slightly in your chest, eyes growing wider. He knows you know you’ve been caught, thinks it’s sweet that you still find it a little scandalous being caught bare around him after how long you’ve been together, everything you’ve been through together. He glances at the timer, 10 minutes remain, he can work with that.

He sets his mug down and moves forward, caging you between his broad chest and the countertop. He’ll never get over the way you look at him, how much want he finds in your eyes. He still can’t believe he gets to call you his, permanently, that you’d wanted to keep him forever just as much as he wanted to keep you. Javier brings a hand up to cup your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone and feels you nuzzle into his palm. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you, cariño? ¿Dónde están tus bragas, hmm?”

He feels you smile against his palm. When you speak, you’re looking directly into his eyes. “Had to take them off, they were all wet.” He anticipated your dirty mouth, but didn’t expect you to say that. He shakes himself out of the stupor.

“Oh?” he starts, softly dragging his hand along your jaw, briefly pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb before they continue their journey down, down, down, over your neck, between your clothed breasts and lower, over your stomach, the muscles jumping at his touch. “Why’s that, baby? Something happen while I was gone?” he asks, touch feathering where he knows you're desperate for him before taking mercy and cupping his wide palm over your heated sex.

“Might’ve,” you sigh, teasing him right back. He loves this about you, you always give just as good as you get, keeping him on his toes.

“Yeah, cariño? What happened? Tell me, baby,” he requests, pushing the heel of his hand up, giving you more of the pressure you’re craving. He feels you tuck your face into his neck, grinding down into his touch, your arms winding around his neck to keep him close, as if he would ever pull away from this, from you.

“I had a sexy dream,” you start. “I, mmm, I—you were railing me, Javier, so fucking good,” you take a second to rub into him, breath hot and damp against his neck. He’s going to get light headed with how fast the blood is rushing to his cock. “You had me face down, ass up. You were, ahhhh, so fucking deep, stretching me so good, had me screaming for you, and I, fuck, I woke up right before I came,” you finish, fully whining now, grinding with his hand in a slow, syrupy rhythm.

“Ángel, mierda,” Javi says. “Need me, baby? Need me to touch that sweet, neglected little cunt?”

“Not that neglected,” he hears you mumble into his neck.

Javi drops his voice to that deep timbre he knows works you up like nothing else. “That so? ‘M I gonna be spoiling her? Giving her this much attention? Sounds like you took care of her already, hmm?”

He feels you shake your head and hum a “uh uh,” sound. You peel your face away from his neck and tilt your head back, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Made her come once, but she needs you, too. Please, Javier, amor, te necesito.” And how can he ever deny you when you ask so nicely?

“Jump up,” he requests, grabbing you by the waist to help guide you as you hop up to sit on the counter. He reaches to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up your torso. “Lift,” he instructs, and you comply easily, raising your arms overhead as he finishes pulling the garment up and off you, tossing it to the side, using both hands to gently knead at your breasts. You smile and sigh at the feeling and he hums in approval, wanting nothing more than to please you.

Javier grabs your hands, cock twitching in his shorts at the sheer size difference between you, and brings them to pick up where his own left off. “Touch, feel yourself, cariño, there you go,” he encourages, watching as you squeeze and pinch and flick at your own nipples, little quakes traveling through your body at the feeling. He slides his palms beneath your shorts, pushing them down, caressing his hands over the swell of your ass as he goes. You lift yourself up helpfully as he tugs the garment down and off your legs. You’re a vision from his place at your feet, gorgeous tits in your hands, your cheeks heated, breathing heavily, eyelids fighting to remain open. He watches you shiver and he gets an idea.

He reaches behind his neck and tugs his own sweaty t-shirt away from his body. He flips it around and bunches it up in his hands. “Arms up, hermosa,” he commands. You release your breasts from your grip and look at him, eyes glazed over in pleasure. You give him a slightly confused look, but comply, once again raising your arms above your head. Javier carefully guides your arms through the holes before pulling the shirt down over your head.

“Winnie the Poohing it in the kitchen on a Saturday morning. Casual,” you joke, giggling, and it lights his heart on fucking fire. So sexy, so smart, so silly, all rolled into one perfect package for him. He sends a thanks to the heavens, assuming his mamá pulled some strings up there to bring you to him, unable to explain it any other way. He chuckles with you, easing the tension slightly, cooling you both off a little before things get too hot too fast.

“Always so fucking sexy in my clothes,” he remarks, unable to help himself.

“Trying to get me in the shower with you, amor? Could’ve just asked,” you retort cheekily, gently tugging the sweaty t-shirt away from your body.

Javier hums. “No, mi ángel, s’not that…know I’m about to be covered in you—my fingers, my mouth, my cock are going to reek of your sweet pussy, might never be able to get the smell out.” To drive his point home he reaches his hand down to where you’re absolutely weeping for him and drags two of his thick fingers through the wet mess he finds there, coating them thoroughly in your juices before bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, groaning at the scent of you, before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking and savoring the taste of you. “Wanted you to reek of me, too. Fair is fair.”

Your smaller hands dart out from where they had been holding his shirt, grabbing his face and hauling his mouth to yours. The kiss is feverish, desperate, teeth knocking, tongues aggressively searching each other’s mouth. Javier brings his fingers back to your cunt, gathering your wetness and coating them thoroughly before teasing one at your entrance. The feeling makes you gasp, pulling back from the kiss enough to nod, before he sinks his finger inside you. The tight warmth he finds within your body is incomparable. You both look down to where his finger slides in and out of you, watching the obscenity of it, the beauty of your creamy slick coating the single digit. He gives you a few pumps before adding a second finger. He can feel the stretch of your walls, working to accommodate him so graciously.

“Good girl, baby. There you go, just relax and let yourself feel it. S’nice, so fucking wet, cariño, look how creamy you are today.” He hears you groan at that, your breathing picking up as he explores you from within, curling his fingers to rub against the soft spongy spot he knows makes you see stars.

“Think I’m, shit, think I’m ovulating. Or close, or something. I’ve been so needy, can’t get enough of you. Need you in me, on me, around me all the time,” he hears you say and it almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re not done yet though and you continue, “Honestly, I’m not even mad about the shirt, think the fucking stink of you is making me drip. Pheromones or some shit. Had to shove my face in your pillow this morning after I came,” you finish.

Javi uses his free hand to push his shorts down, finally freeing his hard cock to the warm air of the kitchen. He’s leaking, tip shiny with pearlescent wetness. He uses his free hand to swipe it from his head onto his fingertips, and brings them up to your mouth. “Open for me, hermosa. Taste me, take me inside you like this first, baby.” You’re looking at him like he hung the moon just for you, and maybe he did. He would. He’d do anything for you. You open your mouth for him, so soft and sweet and plush, and he feeds you his own slick at the same time that he removes his soaked fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, getting another taste of you, feeding each other in the most primal way.

Javier grabs his thick cock in hand and gives himself a few strong pumps to take the edge off, loving having your eyes on him like this. He steps back towards you and grabs your right leg first, bending it at the knee, opening your hip wide, and placing the heel on the countertop, messy pussy on full display for him in this position. He swipes his cock through your wet folds, coating himself in your slick again and again. He rubs his head against your clit over and over and over, nerve endings alight, zipping pleasure through both of your centers.

“Javi, baby, fuck, please, please, I need you inside me, please put it inside me,” you beg. And who is he to deny you when you ask like that, his earth angel. He notches his cock at your entrance and starts pressing forward, the wide head of him popping through the tight opening of your sex, both of you moaning aloud at the feeling. He’s overcome with the feeling of being inside you like this. You’re so wet and tight and hot—the temperature of you something he can never replicate on his own.

He presses forward firmly, but gently, knowing he’ll always be a stretch for you to take. “Doing so good, hermosa, keep breathing for me. There you go, let me in, baby,” he praises, having learned his words do wonders to help you focus on the moment and keep your muscles relaxed. He uses his thumb to rub soft circles into your clit, watches as you shiver at his touch, feels you soften further, sweet pussy dripping more slick around him to help him slide forward. Before he presses all the way inside, Javier draws his hips back, cock sluicing out, and presses back in. He repeats his slow, shallow thrusts a few more times, obsessed with how your cunt is coating him in thick creamy wetness, the squishing sound it makes with every movement intoxicating.

He looks at your face as he presses in deeper, extending each of his next thrusts until he’s fully sheathed. Your eyes are closed, mouth agape, lips bitten and kiss swollen, your eyebrows raised in pleasure. You’re breathing heavily, chest rising and falling visibly as you let out the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard. You’re unreal, a goddess divine, and he will gladly worship at your altar until the day he dies.

“Baby, ángel, mi amorcito, eres toda mi vida, me tienes para siempre,” he lets the words fall from his lips prayerfully, immediately making good on his promise.

“Javier, javier, fuck me, amor, fuck me harder,” you gasp out to him and who is he to defy the will of the divine?

“Hold onto me, amorcito, gonna give you what you need.” Javi feels your hands slide around his sides under his arms as he continues to thrust in hard and slow, wrapping your arms around his back and holding onto his shoulders before wrapping your legs around his hips, locking your ankles in the dip of his lower back. “There you go, baby, so perfect for me. Stop me if it’s too much, ok?” He lifts your chin with his finger, meeting your eyes to make sure you’re both on the same page. You look wrecked and he’s sure he’s no better off. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss far less debauched than the last.

You break away and rest your forehead against his, the gesture releasing a thousand butterflies within him. “Ok, I will, I promise,” you reply sweetly, and Javier lets himself go. He immediately pulls almost completely out of your wet clutch before throwing his hips forward, hard. It punches the air out of your lungs on a scream, so he does it again, and again, speeding up with each thrust until you’re nothing more than an animated moan. Your fingers are clutching at his shoulders, half moon divots of your nails leaving him branded with your pleasure.

Javi knows you’re doing well, that you feel good, but he hasn’t made you make that sound yet, the one he knows so well, the one that makes your eyes roll back and body go limp. He changes the angle, bending his knees and tucking his hips under to get leverage towards the front wall of your soaking cunt.

“JAVI, there, there, there, oh fuck, please, baby, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, your pussy squeezing him so hard he fears he may come right then. You start to whimper, breath hitching over and over and he knows what comes next. You can’t help yourself when it gets like this, he knows, so it doesn’t scare him anymore when he sees you start crying, tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows it’s a way for your body to release, ease the tension that’s been building within you. He moves the hand bracing himself against the cabinets to your cheek, wiping away the tears as they flow, giving you the comfort he knows you need when this happens.

“So beautiful, amorcito, so sweet for me, soft little pussy doing such a good job, baby. She’s holding me so tight, so nicely,” he babbles, listening to the way your pussy absolutely squelches for him. He wonders if you’re right, if you’re ovulating right now. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. The most primal part of his brain ignites, making it hard for him to think about anything other than pumping you full of his spend, his seed, letting it take. You’ve talked about it, you’re both open to the possibility and decided to let nature run its course. If it happens, neither of you will be upset about it, and now, he wants it to happen, wants to be the cause, strut around with his chest puffed out, showing the world that you’re his, his goddess incarnate creating life through nothing but your love and pleasure.

He’s brought back to the present when he feels you rocket through your orgasm. Cunt squeezing him so tightly he thinks you might push him out. He hears you scream his name as he continues to drive hard into your favorite spot, fluttering walls of your pussy massaging him from the inside. “Javi, javi, oh shit, fuck, I’m–Javi, I’m gonna—” he hears you get out before he feels a splash against his lower belly and he looks down just in time to see you squirt all over him and the kitchen floor.

“Cariño, mierda, gorgeous, so fucking amazing, look at you coming for me. You’re unreal, mi diosa, mi cielito,” Javier praises as he slows his thrusts, knowing you need it softer after such an intense experience. He strokes his hand over your hair soothingly, petting you gently before bringing his hand to your cheek, tipping your head to look at him and he smiles when he meets your eyes. “There you are, baby. Did so good. You ok if I keep going? I’m close, promise, I’ll be careful with you.”

You smile back at him and his heart clenches in his chest. Your smaller hand comes up to cup his cheek, mirroring him, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone as he did for you. “Go, baby. Want you to come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you encourage him. Not for the first time this morning, Javier feels time stand still.

“But you said,” he starts.

“I know, I know what I said. Do it. Come inside me, Javi. Dump it deep, make it stick.”

Your words rattle around in his brain on loop, it’s all he can think about as he picks up the pace again. He tucks his arms underneath your knees, lifting them up and pressing them back towards your shoulders, opening your sweet center to him fully. He looks down, watching his big cock disappear and reappear over and over again, shiny wet and covered in your come, the thatch of hair at his base coated in your thick white creaminess. He’s going to do what you asked. He’s going to come so deep inside you that it can’t help but take. He’ll give you whatever you want, would give you his own life if you asked.

You must feel him tensing, knowing he’s close, because he feels you sweetly push his sweaty hair back and lean forward, leaving a soft kiss to his damp forehead before giving the wet beads there a little kitten lick, giggling cutely as you taste the saltiness and curling your tongue back into your mouth. Content little menace, teasing like you didn’t just get fucked within an inch of your life, he thinks. It works for him though, spurs him on as he thinks about more of you, little yous, in the world. He groans and feels his balls pulling up, knows he’s right there.

“Come, Javi, please. Want it, fill me, baby. Come on,” you chant, moving your arms down to grip his ass, pulling him into you. He moans loudly, giving you one, two, three more strong pumps before he releases. He convulses with the force of it, spurt after spurt of thick come coating you from the inside. You hold him tight, stroking your hands gently up and down his back soothingly. He feels cherished here in your arms and he can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.

BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING

You laugh and Javier feels it from inside you. “Eggs are finished cooking,” you say nonchalantly.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Javi says under his breath. He grunts softly as he pulls himself from the warmth of your body. He notices you move to get down and get the eggs and he stops you immediately. “No, you stay right there. And keep your hips up, need all the help we can get,” he says as he nods towards the devastating mess of your pussy.

His words send a shiver through you and you whimper quietly, staying in your position as he requested, reaching a hand down to cup your mound and hold in as much of his come as you can. The sight makes him feel feral and he growls. He leans over and kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment before he pulls away to get the breakfast you so kindly prepared for the two of you out of the oven.

“Mmm, smells delicious, cariño. Thank you for cooking for us,” Javier praises.

“It was nothing, really. Easy recipe. It’ll be a good one to use with kids actually, can use it to trick ‘em into eating their veggies, too. Just load it up with cheese,” you chuckle in reply. Javier looks at you with stars in his eyes, the way you’re already making considerations for an expanding family. He can’t help the way he pulls you in, kissing you with everything he’s feeling, how thankful he is for your presence in his life, how deeply in love he is with you, how excited he is for your future together. You give it to him right back and he knows.

“Thank you,” he reiterates, leaning his forehead against your own.

“Of course, Javier. Can’t imagine doing it for anyone else, with anyone else. Now can you please run to the bedroom and grab me a pair of panties from the drawer? I’d like to be able to use this hand at some point today,” you laugh and he laughs in return.

“I’ve got you, hermosa. Un momento.” Javier scampers to your bedroom, grabbing your favorite pair of comfort panties before making his way back to the kitchen. He holds them up and you smile at him in a way that lets him know he made the right choice. He helps slide them up your legs and over your behind, using his fingers to flatten the waistband around your hips. “Here, let me grab your t-shirt,” Javi says, moving to grab your discarded clothes from the floor.

“No, Jav, it’s ok. Want to wear this one,” you reply, nuzzling your face into the shoulder of his dirty, old t-shirt. He swears his cock gives a feeble twitch at the sight.

“Ok, baby, that’s fine. You can keep that one,” he confirms and holds out a hand to help you hop off the counter.

“Good,” you reply, hands dusting off your thighs, the shirt fitting you in your favorite way, as you’ve told him, just covering your panties. “It makes me feel sexy, I can’t really describe why, but I do. You’re just so fucking broad, baby, your shirts hang off me, it’s hot as fuck,” you’d told him once and he never forgot it.

“We’ll have to get you some more, make sure you have plenty of options,” Javier started. “Need you to be comfy while you cook,” he finished, reaching a hand out to casually graze against your lower stomach. He looks up to find your jaw dropped open, eyes getting that faraway, glazed over look, and he knows what’s coming next. “Baby, your breakfast,” he reasons.

“Fuck breakfast, we have a microwave. Can you go again?” you ask, reaching out to palm at his semi-soft cock.

The feeling of your hand against his sensitive skin makes him shiver. “For you, cariño? Always.”

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or reblog to support fandom authors!

#new friends #she does go here #javier pena x you #javier peña fluff #javier peña smut #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal characters

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pimosworld · 12 days

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I’m coming in late @swiftiscruff but I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to say how much I Love the people I’ve met on this blog because of this man.

This is the way I’m eating up all your fics because I love you so much. If I didn’t tag you please don’t be offended, I would tag my whole follow list if I could.

Taglist- @swiftispunk @joelscruff @joelsgreys @goodwithcheese @punkshort @survivingandenduring @for-a-longlongtime @connectioneverywhere @mountainsandmayhem @mermaidgirl30 @morallyinept @modernperplexity @pedge-page @gasolinerainbowpuddles @beefrobeefcal @ghostslillady @the-fox-den @syd-djarin @sawymredfox @tightjeansjavi @javierpena-inatacvest @ohforficsake @endlessthxxghts @romanarose @casa-boiardi @netherfeildren @luxurychristmaspudding @auteurdelabre @fuckyeahdindjarin @secretelephanttattoo @undercoverpena @underwood0723 @joelsgreys @pedgito @milla-frenchy @oliveksmoked @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @thetriumphantpanda @kiwisbell @stargirlfics @beardedjoel

#ppcugiftexchange2024 #ppcufriendshipexchange2024 #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfic #frankie 'catfish' morales #ezra prospect fanfiction #pero tovar #javier peña fluff #pedro pascal fic #Pedro pascal

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pimosworld · 12 days

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Me after reading this…it seriously rewired my brain in the best way possible.

SoCal to NorCal - Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Masterlist Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x afab!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 1: Malibu

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Chapter Summary: You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, multiple creampies, spitting, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Santi being a menace is his own warning, Frankie the PEK, Frankie has a big dick and so does Santi, Reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n a/n: This is my very first series fic! I plan to have 3-4 chapters including this one. This one was meant to be a fun spicy little intro into the fic, but of course Santi being an absolute menace meant that this is absolute smutty filth and I'm sorry (not sorry). MASSIVE thank you to my sweet @for-a-longlongtime, who not only gave me the iconic Santiago line "guava goes better with pussy and mezcal," but beta read for me, bounced ideas around, and encouraged me when I wasn't sure that I could do this. Without Adi's help, this fic wouldn't be in existence! Dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you!

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I think that should be everything,” you murmur, closing the back of the forest green Jeep. You card a hand through your hair while going over a mental pack list for the third time this afternoon. Behind you, you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder and warm, strong hands envelop your waist.

“You ready to ride then, sweetness?” asks your boyfriend, Frankie. You smile and lean back into his embrace. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this trip,” you say, turning to plant a kiss to his aquiline nose, and then another to his plush lips. You both hop into the car; Frankie navigates towards the coast, while small butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach as you think about how the two of you got here.

You and Frankie Morales met six months ago at the Santa Monica airport. In a bid to encourage team bonding, upper management at your job booked a helicopter tour of the Los Angeles skyline. Frankie was the pilot for your chopper. He charmed your group with his charismatic yet humble demeanor and fun factoids about LA, especially you – your coworkers insisted that he kept staring at you when you weren’t looking. But Frankie ultimately beat you to the punch and asked you out for drinks the following night. You accepted, and the rest is history. The attraction was palpable from the get-go, and Frankie’s go-with-the-flow attitude complimented your fiery personality to a T. You adored how detail-oriented he was in all aspects of his life – memorizing your favorite teas, asking about how your projects were going, knowing exactly how to make you see stars in bed with his fingers, his cock, and especially his tongue. You couldn’t deny that Frankie was the perfect addition to your life, and you to his.

Through those first few weeks, you both divulged the more challenging bits of your lives. Frankie told you about his daughter, Isabella, and how his struggle with cocaine almost ruined his life. His relationship with his ex-wife was strained because of it, but they co-parented well - it was their main goal to ensure that Isabella was never put in the middle of their struggles, that she always felt supported and loved by both of her parents. Frankie had lost his pilot’s license after he failed a random drug test, and he took that as a sign to do the work to fix what was broken. He was now two years sober, and back to flying.

You, in turn, revealed to Frankie that he wasn’t the only man in your life. For the last decade, you’ve been with Joel Miller, your husband of seven years. Joel was the steady compass of your soul, the man whose roots intertwined deeply with those of your heart. You’d loved Joel almost your entire life, having grown up in the same neighborhood, although your crush on him was secretive during your childhood. He was your older brother’s best friend from college, a transplant from Texas whose parents moved to the Bay Area when he was a teenager. You ran into him after getting your master’s degree and moving back to the suburbs of San Francisco, and something sparked between the two of you. Since then, you’d been inseparable. When your work requested that you spend a year going between NorCal and SoCal to establish the new Los Angeles area office, you knew it would be a challenge for your relationship. As it turns out, it was only really a challenge for one reason — your sex drive was incredibly high, and sometimes you were apart from Joel for weeks at a time. Phone and video sex worked as well as it could, but it couldn’t beat the real thing. One night, after a particularly frustrating video sex session — all of your toys ran out of juice and you’d left your charger at home, among other things — Joel surprised you by suggesting that you didn’t need to stay monogamous.

“Are you sure, Joel?” you asked incredulously. “You’ve never been one to particularly like sharing.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied. “Lord knows the new office ended up bein’ more work than either of us thought it’d be. I know how much ‘gettin’ yours’ can be de-stressin’ for ya, and I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t seek it. It’s not like you’d be askin’ someone to move in with us. If it helps you, it makes me happy. And it sure would give my phone battery and hands some relief.” He chuckled as you scoffed in mock indignation. “You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t want to about whoever you get involved with. As long as you’re stayin’ safe and they’re treatin’ you as well as I do, then I’m okay with it.”

You sighed in consideration. “Let me think about it some more,” you said, picking at your rental’s bedspread. “It’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”

And then two weeks later, you met Frankie. Frankie was surprisingly relaxed when you told him about Joel, albeit surprised. He’d hesitated to continue things until you got on the phone with Joel and had him tell Frankie himself. After all, you’d checked with Joel within a few days of meeting Frankie just to make sure Joel was still okay with you being with another man.

You made sure to tell Joel when you’d be seeing Frankie, and Frankie didn’t contact you when you were back home with Joel. It wasn’t that either man wanted to pretend the other didn’t exist; rather, they each wanted to respect the other man’s time with you. Frankie wasn’t seeking marriage or starting a family; he wanted to continue using his time and energy on Isabella and getting his career back on track. And Joel was confident in and comfortable with your marriage in a way that didn’t allow for unseemly jealousy to crop up.

Gradually you told each of them bits about the other one, until one day Joel suggested that the two of them meet. You were game, but wanted to run it by Frankie first.

“He wants to meet me?” Frankie asked, wringing his hands a bit and looking mildly surprised. The two of you had just finished dinner at one of your favorite taco trucks in LA, and you licked the tips of your fingers as you finished your last al pastor taco, the warm, savory spices dancing on your tongue. Frankie took a sip from his Mexican Coke, his plush lips wrapping around the cool aqua glass of the bottle.

You nod your head in affirmation. “Just for a couple of days. We could make a vacation out of it. Joel suggested maybe we road trip up the coast.”

Frankie looked pensive. You don’t blame him, especially when the two men had made a concerted effort to keep their relationships with you separate. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Frankie asked, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You studied those dark chocolate irises, so similar to Joel’s.

“Yes, Francisco,” you confirmed, reaching out across the plastic picnic table to touch his hand. The sounds of the city wrapped around you as the two of you gazed at each other. “Joel has my heart, but so do you. And I want both parts of my heart, my favorites, to be with me at the same time for once.”

“Ok, mi amor, let’s go then,” Frankie said resolutely, bringing up your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

Your thoughts bring you back to the present, with Frankie’s one-hand grip on the steering wheel and the warm coastal sun beaming through the windshield. The windows are down, allowing the salty sea air to filter through the Jeep. He flips on his turn signal and begins driving through a particularly posh part of Malibu. Giant mansions dwarf the street, pristine lawns and modern, open-glass architecture rolling by as you continue on. You let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell does Santi do again to afford this?” you ask Frankie, eyes flicking to and from each house you pass by.

“Nothing,” Frankie chuckles. “When we got the money from that final mission that Santi and I went on, he invested the entirety of his share into the stock market. Well, almost everything.” He snorts at the champagne Range Rover in Santi’s driveway as the two of you pull up. Frankie, on the other hand, put the majority of his earnings into a trust fund for Isabella. The rest he used to set himself up comfortably but modestly. “Santi still does some consultant work for private security firms, but he just keeps reinvesting the money and using it to buy property and fund charity work,” Frankie explains.

“Can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty solid strategy,” you respond, taking in the splendor of Santi’s Malibu abode as Frankie parks his Jeep. The three-story home is minimalist and modern on the exterior, with a combination of cool beige stone and warm wood paneling. No other houses are on either side of the building, so the property was ulta-private, and even had its own beach. As the two of you unpack your bags from the car, you hear a wolf whistle shriek from somewhere around the corner. Jumping slightly, you turn and then smile as Santiago Garcia strolls barefoot out of the house, his pale linen slacks and caramel vintage ribbed polo shirt fluttering lightly against his muscular frame in the sea breeze.

“Hey pendejo, you finally made it!” Santi yells to Frankie, then turns to you with a “hi, hermosa,” and a kiss to your cheek. You wrap your arms around Santi’s torso, inhaling his sandalwood and cinnamon scent and giggling a hello. Frankie walks up, bags in hand, and tries to ruffle Santi’s perfectly coiffed curls. Santi dodges him and then goes in for a bear hug; Frankie smiles broadly as they rock side to side before clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, hermano, and thanks for letting us stay with you,” Frankie says warmly as he picks up your luggage and the three of you head towards the house.

“Not a problem, I’m in town for a consulting gig and figured it’d been awhile since we’d gotten together,” Santi responds ahead of you. You and Frankie follow him into the open-concept common area, admiring the sleek countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and plush yet subdued furniture. Light neutrals rule the color palette, with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows to allow natural light in. You run your hand over the back of a velvet lounger, indulging in the texture against your fingertips. Frankie goes to the bedroom to drop off your luggage, while Santi starts pulling things out in the kitchen for dinner prep. Continuing towards the back of the house, you push open the sliding glass doors, letting fresh air in while you admire the view from the balcony. Below, the azure waves caress the sand gently, and the sound of the ocean encourages you to release all the stress from the last workweek.

The boys get going on dinner as you slip on a silky emerald green dress - opting to go braless and barefoot - and dab on some rosy lip stain. The dress drapes lushly over your body, making it both comfortable and beautiful. After spritzing on some of your favorite perfume and putting on thin gold hoop earrings, you emerge from the guest bedroom you and Frankie are sharing for the weekend. Santi looks up and hums in approval.

“Damn, bebita, you look delicious,” he purrs as he finishes seasoning the steaks. “Do you always dress up for dinner with this chump or did you get pretty just for me? It’s okay, you can tell the truth.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and chuckle as you squeeze his bicep in passing. “Santi, don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, “I did it for myself. I don’t need to dress up for him to want to devour me.” You cross the kitchen to Frankie, who’s working on the caprese salad. Frankie huffs a laugh and puts down the kitchen knife, wiping his hands on a towel before to circling his hands around your waist. You lean into him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“That’s right,” he shoots back to Santi without looking over, “she doesn’t need extra dressing up; she’s stunning enough as she is.” He kisses your forehead softly as you gaze up at him lovingly.

“You’re right.” Santi lets his gaze scan over you approvingly. “She probably looks even better with nothing on.”

“Santiago!” you laugh. “You’re such an insufferable flirt.” You walk back over to the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, fixing him with a smoldering smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hmm?” Santi has always been relentlessly flirtatious with every attractive woman he meets, including you. Frankie’s never bothered by his antics, but you see his eyes flick towards the two of you, anticipating his response.

“Don’t tease me with promises you won’t keep, sweetheart,” Santi warns you, voice like rich caramel, sweet and smooth. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment before you break away, laughing softly and successfully ruffling his hair like Frankie wanted to earlier. That distracts Santi from the moment, as he huffs and runs his fingers through his curls to fix them.

A few hours later, the three of you are relaxing on the balcony by the fire pit after dinner, drinking mezcal margaritas and catching up on life. You sit with your legs across the cream patio sofa, your back against Frankie’s side like you often do with him. His arm is draped possessively across your torso while his thumb rubs absentmindedly back and forth across your shoulder. Santi goes inside to fetch the mezcal bottle from the kitchen, having switched to just the liquor, and you stand from the couch to observe the beach at the balcony’s railing. The darkness of night has settled over the landscape, lending deep navies and turquoise hues to the water, and everything feels more hushed.

As you inhale the coastal breeze, you feel Frankie’s warm body press into you from behind, and then his soft lips pressing a trail of kisses over your shoulder and neck. You hum happily, smelling his rosemary cedar soap on his skin, and press yourself further into him, lightly grinding against his hips. Frankie lets out a quiet groan and presses right back into you, letting you feel his hardening length against your ass. He begins to cup your breasts through the silken fabric of your dress, easily pebbling your nipples with no bra between his fingers and your tits. The heat of arousal starts to pool low in your belly as Frankie slides his hands down to your hips, grinding on you until he’s fully hard beneath his pants. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, and turn to the side to catch his lips, biting on his lower one and eliciting a louder groan from him.

“Sweetness, I need you so badly,” Frankie whispers into your ear. When you quietly moan in response, you can feel Frankie’s hands slip down the silk over your ass and hear him shuffle behind you. Spinning around and opening your eyes, you see him on his knees, hat next to him on the floor, starting to ruck up the back of your dress.

“Frankie,” you hiss, grabbing his hands, desperate for more but concerned. “What if Santi sees?”

“What if I want to watch?” you hear suddenly over Frankie’s shoulder, and you gasp when you look behind him and realize Santi is leaning against the open balcony door, sipping mezcal straight from the bottle. A fire ripples from the base of your spine upwards, and your gaze drops to Frankie, whose eyes have gone nearly black with desire but remain on you. Your lips pop open slightly, and you freeze.

“Well, querida, answer the man,” Frankie rasps. “Either you let him watch or make him go back inside, but either way, I’m eating this sweet pussy.” His hands slowly drag up your legs until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, which rips a moan from your throat. As Frankie’s lips trail up and down your legs, you look back up at Santi, trying to read his expression. Gone is the molten chocolate of his irises; instead, you see glimmering adamant, dark and deep like the desire painted over every line of his face. But that heated gaze is still respectful – you know Santi would never cross your boundaries. If you truly didn’t want him to watch, he’d go inside the house, no questions asked.

It’s for that exact reason that your desire thrums through you like a bass line, and you bite your lip. “Frankie, I need your mouth on me right now. I think Santi needs to see how hard you make me come.”

Frankie responds with a groan, while Santi lets out a deep purring sound. He moves to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, and takes another swig of mezcal as he takes in the sight before him. Frankie immediately yanks your soft lace panties down your thighs, and growls at the gossamer-thin string of arousal that connects your weeping center with your underwear.

“Fuuuuck, querida, you’re fucking soaked,” Frankie moans, inhaling the intoxicating scent near your glossy slit. You step out of your panties, and he grabs them, tossing them to Santi. The man on the couch catches them with one hand, bringing them immediately to his nose and sniffing deeply.

“Goddamn,” Santi grits out, “she smells so fucking good, hermano.” He brings the gusset of the lace garment to his mouth, gingerly licking the slick off, groaning at the taste. You gasp at the sight, a wave of wetness trickling down your channel. “Tastes amazing too,” he adds, leaning back into the couch cushions and stuffing your panties into his pocket.

Frankie pushes your dress up to your waist and moves your left thigh to rest on his shoulder, spreading you open. He splays your lips open with his thumbs, staring at your pussy glistening in the fire’s light, on display for both him and Santi. He licks a steady strip from the bottom to the top, swirling around your clit at the end. You moan loudly, leaning back against the railing for support.

“Oh bebita, listen to those sweet sounds you’re making for Frankie,” Santi croons from the couch. “He must be making that pussy feel so good.”

“Yes, Santi,” you gasp, swallowing thickly as your eyes close in pleasure. “He’s so fucking good with his tongue.” You hear Santi rumble deep in his chest in response.

Frankie begins licking, sucking, and tapping on your clit exactly like he knows you like it, gripping your cheeks with both hands and massaging them. You writhe against his face, rocketing faster towards your impending orgasm. When you look up, you see Santi palming his cock through his pants, the bulge straining against the linen. Your cunt clenches at the image before you. Frankie can tell you’re close, so he slips two of his fingers into his mouth momentarily to slick them up and then plunges them into your warm cunt. You throw your head back, nearly screaming in ecstasy. Your grip tightens on the railing.

“I know you’re close, querida,” Frankie growls. “Let Santi see how pretty you look when you come.” Frankie then hooks his fingers just right inside of you and hits that soft spot that sends you into orbit, squealing. You feel everything tighten and then release, your orgasm rippling through your core and into your extremities. Frankie and Santi both moan at the sights and sounds of you reaching your peak, Frankie lapping up every drop of release from you.

“Good fucking girl, mamacita,” Santi says, getting up from the couch and stalking towards the both of you. Frankie gets off of his knees, easing your leg off his shoulder while wiping a hand across his drenched mouth. He knows exactly what Santi wants, so he moves back a couple of steps. You almost stumble, legs like jelly, and Santi catches your waist.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, and his assessing gaze breaks through the post-orgasm haze you’re in. “I really want to taste that perfect cunt, baby,” Santi whispers. “Can I do that for you?” You look at him, hesitating for a moment only because this is a line you’ve not crossed with Santi before. You nod clearly at him. Santi shakes his head. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Santi,” you breathe. “Please put your mouth on me.” Santi groans in anticipation and starts walking backwards, pulling you with him. When you look at him in slight confusion, a sheepish smile passes briefly over his lips.

“Bad knees,” he reminds you, and you laugh. “Kneeling on concrete would kill me.” He tilts his chin to Frankie. “Fish, open the door to the bedroom. I’m gonna lay her down. And bring the bottle.” Frankie obliges, sliding open the other glass door to the expansive bedroom and grabbing the mezcal bottle.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You sigh a yes, and Santi kisses you softly at first, then deeper. He tastes like cinnamon, tropical fruits, and smoky liquor. Moaning quietly, you start to lose yourself in his kiss as he moves the both of you backwards into the bedroom.

The California king size bed is draped in soft taupes and creams, the bedding a gauzy cotton that feels incredible on your skin as Santi gently lays you on it. He pulls your dress up your body, and you arch your back to help him remove it over your head. As your bare body is exposed to him, glowing in the low light, he sucks in a breath. Frankie places the mezcal bottle on the bedside table, then strips out of everything except his black boxer briefs, his length fully hard against his left thigh, and sits down on a sleek chaise lounger in the corner, watching you and Santi.

Santi strips off his shirt and then climbs onto the bed over you, slowly sliding his hands over your soft skin as he goes. You shift on the bed at his touch, back arching a bit and thighs rubbing together. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he reaches your head, forearms bracketing either side of your face. His body is so close to yours yet not touching.

Moaning, you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls and pull briefly. Santi bites your lower lip in response with a small growl. Sitting up, he grabs the mezcal off the bedside table.

“Open,” he commands, taking a swig from the glass bottle. You obey, and Santi leans over your open mouth and fucking spits the mezcal into it. You swallow, moaning at the taste, the alcohol and him. He kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth, and you whimper, your legs dropping open of their own accord.

Santi notices and chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he purrs. “Dirty girl.” He kisses and nips along your ear and neck, across your collarbone, and down your chest. Reaching your nipples, he swirls his tongue around and then gently nips each of them. You feel slick pooling at your entrance, starting to drip down your inner thighs. Santi traces his tongue down your belly and to the curls above your pussy, inhaling deeply. He pushes your thighs open further and groans at the sight.

“Goddamn, you’re drenched,” he grits out, shuffling down to put his face at your center. You glance over at Frankie in the corner, and notice he has his cock out, slowly stroking the length. You whimper at the sight and Frankie licks his lips. You feel a sudden pinch at your inner thigh and whip your head back to the man between your legs.

“Eyes on me, hermosa,” Santi orders. “I want you to look right at me when I eat this pretty pussy.” And with that, he dives in.

Santi is a messier lover than Frankie, who usually eats you out with absolute precision, priding himself with knowing exactly how to make you come as fast as possible, and repeat the process until you’re crying out from overstimulation. Santi, however, is licking at you like he wants to drown himself in your cunt. His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes across your slit, sucking on your lips and clit, biting at your thighs, shoving his tongue deep into your channel.

“So fucking sweet,” Santi pants out in a daze, separating his mouth from your sopping cunt for just a moment, and then goes back in for more. You mewl and grip the bed sheets as he continues to ravage you.

Your moans of pleasure stir something in Frankie, who gets up from his seat and walks over to the bed, his need to touch you nearly insatiable.

“Frankie,” you whine as you see him, your eyes hazy with lust, reaching out to him.

“I’m right here, querida,” he reassures you, then gets onto the bed, placing himself behind you. You scooch up the bed so that you’re sitting in between his spread legs, your back to his bare chest. You can feel his hard length against you, silken and hot, his precum smearing slick against your skin. Frankie kisses your forehead, then leans forward and grabs your legs behind the knees, pulling back and spreading you impossibly wider for Santi. The man between your thighs groans, slipping two fingers into you, making your back arch even more.

“Does our little slut like to be spread out? Do you like Frankie holding your legs open for me, bebita?” Santi growls, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You cry out at his words, throwing your head back against Frankie’s shoulder. One of your hands grabs Frankie’s thigh, and the other one grips Santi’s hair once again.

“Yes,” you respond, pushing his head back towards your dripping slit. “Lick my pussy like you mean it, Santi.” He groans deep in his chest and dives back in, and you feel Frankie bite the junction between your neck and shoulder in arousal. Santi continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it in tiny circles. You feel your orgasm begin to rise in your lower belly, intensifying with each thrust and lick. Santi feels your slick walls bear down on his fingers.

“That’s it, honey, I know you want to come for me,” Santi says.

“Give it to us,” Frankie whispers in your ear. “Come for me and Santi.”

Frankie’s command is all it takes to snap the tether in your core, shattering you into pieces as the pleasure courses hot through your body. You scream their names as your pussy gushes wave after wave of slick, running down your thighs and Santi’s fingers, into his waiting mouth, licking and slurping obscenely, his fingers continuing to press into your g-spot to prolong your high.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now,” Santi grits out, pussydrunk. He stands up and hurriedly shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, his thick cock springing free and bobbing slightly. You feel your mouth water; his dick is just as gorgeous as Frankie’s.

Santi meets your eyes once again. “Do you want me to fuck you while Frankie holds you open, sweetheart?” Santi asks you. You pause, your pleasure-addled mind narrowing in on one idea – having them both.

“I want you both,” you moan. Santi’s eyes widen a bit and then dart to Frankie. They share a smirk and then Frankie turns to you in his lap.

“Querida, how do you want us?” Frankie inquires. “One at a time or at the same time?”

“At the same time,” you whimper. “I want you both in my pussy.”

Santi and Frankie groan in unison. Santi smiles wickedly, looking at Frankie. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

“Just like we used to,” Frankie chuckles darkly, and your fuzzy mind tucks away their exchange for later. “We have to get her ready, then.” He slowly releases your knees and turns to you, kissing the side of your face and lightly nibbling your ear. He grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning your head sideways to meet his eyes. “We’re going to work you open first, okay, baby?” he intones softly. You nod your head yes. Santi and Frankie’s eyes meet, and Santi opens the bedside table drawer, grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it to Frankie.

He catches it, reading the label. “Guava?” Frankie asks quizzically. “What happened to the mango-pineapple one?”

Santi shrugs. “I still have it,” he explains, “but guava goes better with pussy and mezcal.” You huff a laugh and Frankie smiles, kissing your forehead again and sweeping your hair out of your face.

“Guess we have an edible lube connoisseur here,” jokes Frankie, opening the cap and pouring some of the slick liquid onto his thick digits.

The sweet, juicy fruit scent wafts through the air, and Santi grabs the bottle from him, doing the same while shaking his head incredulously.“It’s not my fault that you have no sense of refinement,” he retorts. Frankie just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetness?” Frankie murmurs. You nod your head and breathe out a “yes, baby”. Frankie reaches in front of himself and slips his two lubed fingers into you, and you whimper softly. Santi follows suit, slipping two of his fingers into you next, kneeling between your legs. You feel stretched full but so turned on. They allow you a few moments to adjust, and when you nod your head, they begin swirling their fingers in opposite directions. A moan rips from your throat and you grab at the bedsheets. They continue swirling and pressing their fingers in and out, and the sight of your pussy filled with their fingers gets the both of them rock hard.

The cloud of euphoria in your head is all-consuming as they continue, your arousal reaching an almost painful peak. Suddenly you grab their wrists and both men stop immediately, concern crossing their faces. “Are you okay, bebita?” Frankie asks, his brows furrowing.

You nod your head rapidly, and then bleat out, “I need you both inside me right now.” Santi and Frankie grin at your fucked out expression, looking at each other conspiratorially.

“Well, you heard the lady, Pope,” Frankie says. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He shifts you forward as he moves to the side, pulling his underwear all the way off. He lays on his back on the bed, his hard cock against his stomach dripping pre-cum. “I want you to ride me, hermosa, and then Santi is going to enter you from behind as you lean forward,” Frankie explains.

You nod your head in understanding and straddle his thighs, facing him. Frankie hands you the lube bottle. You dribble a stream onto his waiting thickness, and he hisses as the cool liquid hits his hot velvet skin. Grabbing his slick length, you shuffle forward and guide him into your channel, whining when he bottoms out easily. Frankie reaches up and grips your hips, guiding you to ride him.

After a minute, he looks over your shoulder at Santi, who is slowly stroking his dick. “I think she’s ready, Fish,” Santi says, and Frankie nods once. Santi gets on the bed, coming to his knees behind you and grabbing your hips. Frankie slides his hands to your back, gently pulling you towards him until you’re leaning forward, laying chest to chest, your pussy on full display for Santi, stuffed with Frankie’s cock. You hear Santi groan behind you at the sight.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, bebita,” Santi admits as he slicks up his hardness with the lube. “Been thinking about being inside this pussy for months.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you tease, looking back at him. “Better hurry before the offer expires.” Santi smirks at you as he places his hands on your hips.

The moment you feel the head of Santi’s cock slide into your pussy, you gasp as the sting of the stretch hits you. You hear Santi behind you grit out a quiet “fuck”. Slowly he continues sinking into your hot, wet heat. Reaching forward, he circles your throbbing clit softly, making you whine but relax, allowing him to slip deeper into you, inch by inch. Your pussy twitches and both Santi and Frankie choke on moans.

When he fills you as far as you can take both of them, the three of you hold still. As the seconds pass, the sting gives way as you adjust to being this full. The result is rolling waves of lightning sparking through your veins with each minute movement inside of you. You let out a high-pitched whine as a knot of white-hot pleasure tightens in your core.

“Mierda, bebita,” Frankie moaned, “are you gonna come just from both of us being in you?”

“God, she feels so fucking good,” Santi murmurs, almost to himself. Both of them are gripping you tightly as you continue to whimper and whine, your high quickly building. Your breathing intensifies, and you start to shake.

It’s so much, being so full of them physically, and the thought of them both in you - two of the most attractive, sexy men you know - is nearly making you lose your mind. But you don’t want to come before your boys have even gotten to move. It almost feels like a weakness, being this fucked out for them.

“It’s ok, sweetness, let go,” says Frankie softly, realizing you’re holding off for them. He presses a kiss to your neck and it’s your undoing.

The brush of his lips against that sensitive spot right under your ear pushes you off the edge and you wail, your pleasure cresting as you jerk under their firm grips. They moan loudly, your pleasure stoking theirs. The three of you catch your breaths as you come down from your high.

Frankie looks up at you, eyes pitch black, swimming with devotion for you. Santi strokes your hips gently, his strong hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks you sweetly, rubbing his hands across your back, his thighs clenching from holding back.

You take a shaky breath. “So fucking full,” you respond, and then giggle softly at your obvious observation. The boys laugh too, and then moan slightly as your bodies shift. Santi squeezes your hips and asks, “Are you ready for us to move, hermosa?” Your head is swimming in endorphins as you whimper out, “Yes, Santi. I need both of you to fuck me now.”

With that, the two men lock eyes and nod, beginning an apparently practiced dance of their cocks. As Frankie slides himself out, Santi pushes in, and then they reverse roles. You cry out in ecstasy. It’s so much more than you could have ever imagined.

Frankie and Santi start off with slow, shallow thrusts in and out, gradually stretching you around their lengths. When Frankie hits a particularly sweet spot, you moan fervently and more slick coats them, making them both moan back in response. The friction between their cocks and your walls is delicious.

“Fuck, bebita, you look incredible taking the both of us,” Santi says, gripping your hips harder, a sheen of sweat glimmering across his body.

Frankie hums in agreement. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises. You preen at their words, arching your back to change the angle. Santi whimpers and kisses along your spine, worshiping your body. The room is thick with the smell of sex, guava, and mezcal, the squelching sounds of your pussy weaving between all three of your moans and cries of pleasure.

The boys begin to speed up the wetter you get, starting to fuck into you with vigor. You feel like your whole body is vibrating. Leaning down to kiss Frankie changes the angle once again, and Santi lets out yet another whimper as you slide your tongue along Frankie’s.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, that’s perfect,” he gasps, getting even harder inside of you. He starts to rub your clit in tight circles, making you yelp. “I want you to come one more time for us before we fill you up,” he continues. “Gonna make your pussy milk our cocks. C’mon, honey, you’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper. “I - it’s so much…”

Frankie lets out a growl. “Oh, querida, I know you can come for us one more time,” he says. “Just think about how full of cock you are right now.”

He’s right. The psychological thrill of having both men inside of you is the push you need. You start to shake again, everything tensing up. Both men moan as your channel pulls tight.

Santi leans down to your ear, still thumbing your clit. “Fucking come for us. That’s an order.”

You scream so loudly when your fourth orgasm hits you, that you’re grateful that Santi has no neighbors - because they definitely would have called the cops by now. Tears leak down your face from the intensity, and Santi whimpers loudly as he thrusts in and comes deep in you, his hot seed coating your walls. The tightness of your pussy and Santi shoving deep end up pushing Frankie’s cock out, but he couldn’t care less.

When Santi’s strokes slow and then stop, indicating he’s finished, Frankie pushes him off of you, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He shoves your legs apart, and pushes his dick harshly into you. Boneless, you lay there, moaning and taking it, unable to say anything coherent except for Frankie’s name. Your boyfriend presses your legs even further towards your shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he fucks into you hard and fast, Santi’s cum forced out of you with every snap of Frankie’s hips.

“God, you look like such a goddess right now,” Frankie babbles, nearly snarling, “so full of cum. You like that? You want me to fill you up good? You’re gonna be leaking our cum for days, querida.”

“Yes, Frankie, yes,” you moan, “please fill me up. I love your cum in me. I wanna be so full of both of you.”

With a shout, Frankie bares his teeth and comes, getting as deep as possible and filling up your cunt just like he promised. You feel his cum thick and hot in you, triggering another moan.

Frankie drops your knees back down to the bed, nearly collapsing down against your chest while the two of you pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths. Looking over, you spot Santi sitting up at the corner of the bed, looking disheveled but utterly sated, his now-soft cock still shiny with lube and your combined releases.

You reach your hand out to him, and he crawls towards you, slotting himself next to one side, while Frankie hisses as he pulls out of you and lays next to you on your other side. He smothers your neck and face with kisses, and you giggle, feeling Santi pepper kisses across the top of your head and stroking the underside of your breast affectionately with his thumb.

You let out a contented sigh. “Wow, that was…”

Frankie hums out an “incredible” at the exact same time Santi rumbles a “so fucking good” to complete your statement, which makes the three of you laugh. Giggles subsiding, something they said in the heat of the moment suddenly pops into your mind.

“Wait a second,” you say as you sit up. Both men lazily look up at you, faces blissed out, waiting for your question. “Frankie, you said, ‘just like old times’... How many times have you double teamed with Santi?”

The two of them look at each other with nearly identical smirks. Santi pipes up first. “Well, back in our Army grunt days,” he explains, “when we’d go on leave together, we kind of had this habit of teaming up to pick up women.” Your jaw drops slightly, and Santi looks amused at your shock.

“It was a fairly effective strategy,” Frankie continues. “Trying to land a girl alone was a crapshoot. But with the both of us offering her a night to remember?” Frankie huffs. “It seemed like fantasy fulfillment for almost every woman we fucked together.”

Your eyes rake over the two of them, gloriously naked and handsome as ever, in bed with you. Yeah, you can see the appeal.

“Okay, but who came up with the idea?” You ask, then immediately put up a hand into the air. “WAIT, no, I know exactly who… Santi, you slut!”

Frankie lets out a loud bark of a laugh as Santi rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed. “Hey, don’t act like you didn’t benefit from it, idiota!” Santi grumbles. Frankie reaches over, finally successfully ruffling Santi’s hair. Santi flinches and bats Frankie’s hand away, making you shake with laughter as you lounge in the post-coital haze with your boyfriend and his best friend. You don’t blame those women they slept with one bit. This was a night you will surely remember.

No pressure tags: @mermaidgirl30 @legendary-pink-dot @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem @arcanefox207 @campingwiththecharmings @exquisit3corpse @gutsby @honeyedmiller @lavendertales @lu62 @luxurychristmaspudding @ozarkthedog @qveerthe0ry @swiftispunk @sheepdogchick3 @thatshortgirlwithglasses @wannab-urs @musings-of-a-rose

#santiago garcia #frankie morales #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales #joel miller x f!reader x santiago garcia #joel miller smut #santiago garcia smut #frankie 'catfish' morales #triple frontier au #tlouau

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pimosworld · 12 days

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I’m about to be very old man yells at cloud but I feel like the type of assholery prevalent on this app (in this fandom at least) has changed over the last year, you know? Like it kind of just used to be shitty anons and you could easily turn that off, but now there are people every other day writing callout posts and blatantly trolling authors. God forbid anyone try to have a good time and write a fic without some asshole popping in to give their fucking opinion on the morality of it or outright stealing content and trolling because they’re so fucking miserable they need to bring everyone else down to make themselves feel better.

Anyway I have no point, I’m just extremely annoyed and I think some people out there need to go work their shit out with a professional instead of taking it out on strangers on the internet. Or choke. idc which one just leave us out of it.

#don’t be a dick #life is hard enough #pimorants #mutuals pining #pedro pascal

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pimosworld · 12 days

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Reader to Angie

The most cathartic thing about this chapter by far. I am reader she is me, I have literally beat someone up for messing with my man so when I tell you I got wayyyyy to excited I mean that.

i know who you are | 6. the fight

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Word of Joel's indiscretion spreads quickly through town, leading to a vicious fight. When Joel begins to worry you may never forgive him, he sets into motion a plan to win you back.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, previous infidelity mentioned, violence (fist fight), blood, bruises, jealousy/possessiveness

WC: 8K

Series Masterlist

The thought of leaving your bed was excruciating.

For nearly three days, you could hardly do much more than use the bathroom and drink some water. When you heard Joel leave for patrol, his footsteps always pausing hesitantly on the other side of your door before begrudgingly going down the steps, you would eventually drag yourself downstairs and force yourself to eat something. Anything. It didn't really matter. You didn't crave anything. Didn't look forward to a single thing except the sweet embrace of sleep. But by the fourth day, you knew you would have to go back to work or else Nick would make a house call to check on you.

You had lied and said you hurt your back so you could get out of working for a few days, but enough time had passed, enough tears were shed, enough pity was wasted when you finally forced yourself to get up one morning and take a shower.

It helped more than you thought it would. The steam billowing around you in the confined space, the warm water pummeling your shoulders, working out the kinks in your muscles from too many hours hunched over in agony. If you had any self-awareness, you might have asked yourself why you had such a powerful reaction to Joel kissing someone else. If you had a clear enough mind, you might have remembered you didn't even react this badly when you woke from your accident only to discover your whole family was dead and the world went to hell.

No, you only seemed to fall into a deep depression over Joel finding comfort from another woman.

And not just any woman. Angie.

It still made your blood boil as you slipped on clean clothes for work. You should have known she was a shark, smelling blood in the water that very first night when she cornered you in the bathroom.

And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to accuse you of not caring. Not giving a shit about him, to be exact.

That fucking asshole.

When you came down the stairs and spotted the coffee maker still on with your favorite mug next to the carafe, you scoffed and kept walking to grab your coat. As much as you wanted some coffee, you were too stubborn to accept Joel's shitty gesture.

The winter sun was blinding against the snow. Or maybe your eyes were just too swollen and dry, too accustomed to staying in the darkness of your bedroom for days on end, but whatever it was caused you to wince and rub your face.

"Hey! You're alive!" you heard Ellie's voice call out from the driveway. She was walking up the path at the exact same time as you with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her winter jacket unzipped.

"Yeah, barely," you replied, wishing you had some of the coffee Joel had left behind. You took the porch steps carefully and met her out on the sidewalk, your pupils finally adjusting to the brightness. "How's it going, kid?"

She opened her mouth to reply but paused, giving you a funny look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to read her expression.

"Nothing, just that nickname... took me by surprise," she laughed with a shake of her head, "you used to call me that before. Haven't heard it in a long time, I guess." You shielded your eyes and shrugged.

"Common nickname, I suppose," you reasoned, and she nodded in agreement.

"How's the back?" she asked with a point, and you almost had to ask her what she was talking about before you remembered your lie.

"Oh! Much better, thanks. Must've pulled a muscle or something, who knows."

"Well, that's good. Listen, I gotta get to school, but do you wanna get dinner later with me and Dina? Seth's making mac and cheese, and it's like, the fucking best, dude," she said excitedly, and you didn't have the heart to say no.

"Yeah, sounds great," you smiled, then gave her a quick wave before heading in the opposite direction towards the infirmary.

It was only a short ten minute walk to work, but the fresh air combined with stretching your muscles for the first time in days really did something to improve your mood. By the time you pushed open the door to the infirmary, you were actually looking forward to working again.

And so was Nick, apparently, because his eyes lit up and his body sagged with relief when he saw you.

"I was a few hours away from sneaking you the good pills and begging you to come back," he joked, then his face turned serious. "Everything alright? What happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you said, waving off his concern, "I slipped on some ice and pulled a muscle, it's all good now."

"Well, be careful out there, alright? You're the best aide I have."

"I'm the only aide you have," you corrected him before hanging up your jacket. "What do you need me to do?"

The morning went by fast. Nick had told you in the few days you were out, the clinic wasn't terribly busy, but he unfortunately did fall behind on housekeeping. So you busied yourself running loads of sheets and blankets to the laundry, then sanitizing equipment until Mr. Phillips came in after lunch with a laceration on his arm from working in the stables. It wasn't a bad injury, but it required some cleaning and a few stitches, which you were secretly eager to observe. You wanted to get more exposure to stitching in the hopes of being able to take care of non-emergency injuries by yourself one day.

It felt good to feel useful again. Staying busy forced your mind off Joel and the whole mess waiting for you at home, and you were grateful for the distraction. So much so that you decided to stay a little longer than usual and fold the linens that came back from the laundry. You were killing two birds with one stone: staying busy and avoiding going home in between work and dinner. By now, you knew he'd be back and likely waiting for you, and you still had no idea what you would say.

As the sun began to set and the world outside the infirmary grew darker, you slid your coat back on and locked the door behind you before heading for the dining hall.

Shoving your hands deep into your pockets, you tucked your chin against your chest, feet carrying you swiftly through the streets, eyes cast down and avoiding others as best you could. When you arrived at the dining hall, it was packed, per usual, but you did manage to spot Ellie and Dina holding a small table in the back of the room. As you weaved your way through the crowd, you noticed they were sharing some bread and butter and you felt your stomach rumble. For the first time in days, you felt excited to eat.

"Hey," you said in greeting as you dropped your coat over the back of an empty chair before giving them each a half hug. "Freezing out there."

"Give it a second. It's hotter than hell in here," Dina joked before pushing the basket of bread in your direction. You plopped down into your chair and moaned when you felt the bread was still warm, then tore off little pieces and popped them into your mouth.

"Hungry?" Ellie asked, only partially joking as you nodded vigorously.

"Did you order the mac and cheese yet?"

"Yeah, didn't want him to run out," she replied as she eased back into her chair and turned her head toward Dina. "Do you see Chris and Holly over there? What are they thinking? They know that shit'll get back to Claire. What a bunch of assholes."

"Who?" you asked, your voice muffled around the bread.

"Couple of kids in our class," Dina explained, nodding towards the other side of the hall. You twisted around, your eyes scanning the crowd until you saw a younger couple sitting together, the girl sitting on the guy's lap and toying with his hair. "That's Chris, and he's been dating this girl, Claire, for like, what? Six months or so? And look at him. Letting that hussy crawl all over him. Men are pigs."

You choked on your laughter and took a swig of water. If only they knew.

Ellie's eyes lit up as she looked at something behind you, and you turned around to follow her gaze, spotting Seth as he made his way through the crowd with three plates of mac and cheese. However, just over his left shoulder you happened to notice Joel for the first time since you arrived, but by the looks of it, it was not the first time he noticed you.

He was sitting at his usual table with Tommy and another guy from patrol you vaguely recognized, the other two men engrossed in conversation while Joel pinned you with his stare. You quickly turned away, your cheeks feeling flush, and tried to focus on your dinner.

"Shit, this looks amazing," you said, distracted by the cheesy, piping hot dish set in front of you.

"I'm telling you, man, it's the fucking best," Ellie told you before digging in. You had to stifle a moan when the food hit your tongue for the first time, eternally grateful for the impeccable timing because all you could think about in that moment was how good it tasted, Joel temporarily forgotten for the first time in days.

"Didn't you eat today?" Dina asked, her lips twitching into a grin, and you shook your head.

"Not really. Haven't had much of an appetite this week," you told her, and Ellie tilted her head to the side.

"Your pain was that bad?"

"Huh?" you asked, then it dawned on you once again. The Lie. "Oh, yeah. I mean, I ate a little, I just wanted to sleep, I guess."

"Joel didn't make sure you ate?" she pressed, her eyes flicking over your shoulder. You dropped your fork, scrambling to come up with yet another lie when her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, making you twist around to see what made her demeanor change so suddenly.

As you expected, she was looking in Joel's direction, but he was no longer looking at your table. It was impossible considering Angie was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view with her body, her hand resting on the back of his chair.

"What is she up to now?" Dina murmured to Ellie, but you could hardly register her words. The way your anger ignited deep within your chest and licked up your throat, it was a miracle you even remembered to breathe. Joel's legs shifted, knees turned away from her, but that was all you could see. You couldn't see the look on his face or hear what was said. You couldn't see where his hands were. But you could see Angie flick her long, straight hair over her shoulder with a flirty laugh that was clearly meant to pull attention onto her.

If you didn't have tunnel vision, you would have noticed she was successful. A few heads turned, men's eyes lingering on her backside while women's eyes darted in your direction, but you were incapable of processing any of it. Ellie was saying your name, but you couldn't hear her over the ringing in your ears.

It was less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops, and she walked away from him with a sickly grin plastered across her face, her two friends returning her mischievous smile before flanking her side, making their way towards the exit like a swarm of bees.

Without even thinking, you stood up.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, but you ignored her. Instead, you pushed your way through the crowd in a trance, shouldering people out of your way without so much as an apology, too laser focused on your target to care.

"Joel!" Ellie called out to him. He was rubbing his face angrily, trying to avoid his brother's eyes glaring at him in disbelief over what he just overheard Angie say when he heard Ellie. Great, she knows, too, he initially thought, but when he looked up and saw Ellie and Dina, panic-stricken, making their way towards the exit, he realized something was happening. He didn't see you until you emerged from the crowd and reached for the door, swinging it open and allowing a cool blast of air into the room before disappearing outside.

"Oh, shit," Joel mumbled, snatching his coat and forcing his way through all the people as quickly as he could. Tommy followed, confused at first, until he realized you were no longer at your table and then it clicked.

By the time you made it outside, you nearly missed where they went, but luck was on your side because her high-pitched giggle danced through the bitter cold air and you twisted your head to the left, just in time to see the three women in the shadow of night round a corner and head down a residential street.

You were nearly running to catch up with them, but you couldn't feel your feet hit the ground or hear the gravel crunching under your boots. And neither did they, because when you found yourself less than ten feet away, they were still giggling and talking animatedly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to your presence.

Skidding to a stop, you shouted, "Hey!"

All three women swirled around in surprise, their eyes wide and their smiles slipping from their faces when they sensed the rage radiating from your body. But even still, Angie tried to play dumb.

"Can we help you?" she asked sarcastically with a dry laugh, but when you took a step forward, she went quiet.

"Yeah," you sneered, fists clenching at your sides, "I had a question for you, actually."

Angie looked perplexed, not expecting that, so she held her hands out to her side, urging you to continue while Ellie and Dina caught up, standing a few paces back.

"Did you run out of dick to suck in this town or are you just that fucking bored you thought you'd give home wrecking a try?"

Dina snickered behind you and Ellie gasped.

"Home wrecking?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Is that what you'd call your man following me into the ladies room at the bar so he could shove his tongue down my throat?"

Your nostrils flared and your ears began to make that buzzing noise again, so you dug your nails into your palms, desperately trying to ground yourself.

"Can I even call him your man?" she taunted, feeling like she got the upper hand. "Are you even together anymore? You clearly don't fuck him if he was looking for it from-"

You couldn't even remember moving. Your feet had a mind of their own as you closed the distance between you with two long strides and swung your arm back with as much force as you could muster, backhanding Angie right across the mouth.

Her hands flew up to her face and her two friends stumbled backwards in surprise, but all you saw was red. Before she could recover, you grabbed her by the coat and threw her down onto the muddy street, knocking the wind out of her with a sharp gasp. Quickly, before she could get up, you straddled her midsection. With your left hand pressing down on her chest and your right balled into a fist near your head, you landed a punch right on her perfect little nose with a sickening crunch, causing a trail of blood to trickle out of her nostrils seconds later. But that didn't stop you. You kept going, your knuckles, now bloody, marring her flesh over and over again, but when you made contact with her jawbone, you flinched, a jolt of pain shooting down your middle finger making you pause.

That was when Angie saw her opportunity.

She vaulted you off her with her hips and she rolled to her side, pinning you to the ground with blood dripping down her face. She scratched desperately at your eyes and mouth, your hands coming up to protect yourself with a yelp, before she began landing weak punches against your cheek and mouth. And even though they weren't as forceful as your hits, her weight pinning you down kept you from reclaiming the upper hand.

Ellie and Dina were shouting your name, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Angie, blocking her punches as best you could while you waited for your opportunity to take her down.

Then, Angie's hand wrapped around your throat, her fingers pressing into your windpipe. Your hands grabbed her wrist as you fought for air and violently thrashed underneath her.

"Face it," she hissed, leaning down and putting more pressure against your throat, "If it was that easy, I was doing you a favor. He never really loved you, you were just an easy fuck before your brain got all scrambled."

Her words were exactly what you needed to get your second wind.

With an angry roar, you punched her right in the throat, and although you couldn't get much force behind it, it was enough to make her loosen her grip in surprise. And just as Tommy and Joel were running up the street, you tossed Angie to the side and scrambled back on top of her. But this time, you didn't stop.

You were merciless, your hands were a blur. Fists rained down blows upon her face while she desperately tried to shield herself, but it was no use.

"Stop!" she sobbed, begging, but the fear in her voice just egged you on.

Blood began to stain her yellow hair, her perfect skin began to turn red and purple while your fists never stopped, each blow creating a new mark or cut. You couldn't stop if you tried. Something snapped and you unlocked a part of yourself you didn't know, or didn't remember, existed. Some part of you that was a warrior. A fighter. A survivor. And it wasn't until Joel hooked his arms underneath yours and hauled you back that you finally stopped, your chest heaving and your eyes wild.

"Y-you crazy b-bitch!" Angie sputtered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth as Tommy knelt in front of her.

"You haven't seen crazy!" you screamed as you kicked and struggled to get out of Joel's grip. Tommy reached down to help Angie up and he motioned for her friends to come forward. "Stay the fuck away from us or I'll fucking kill you!" you shouted, "You hear me, you fucking whore? I will fucking kill you!"

"Calm down!" Joel yelled from behind, but your blood boiled as you focused your rage on him.

"Get your fucking hands off me," you snarled, wrenching your arms out of his grasp. "This is your fault!" you continued, pointing your finger in his face and backing away, ignoring the tortured look he gave you. A sick part of you was pleased to see the sting of your words land.

"I think she needs to see Nick," Tommy said as both of Angie's friends struggled to help her up.

"She's lucky she's alive," you snapped as you wiped the back of your hand over your bloody face.

"Holy shit, dude," Ellie murmured as you turned around, her eyes all wide with shock.

"I'm going home," you grumbled, wiping more blood from your cheek as you began the journey back to your house on shaky legs, wondering how on earth you were expected to share a space with Joel after tonight. Dina and Ellie exchanged some quick words as you left before Ellie quickly caught up with you.

"I'll clean you up."

"You don't-"

"I know. But I want to," she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and it took everything in you not to lean into her and let her drag you home.

You were exhausted. Mentally and physically. And you just wanted to go to bed. But you were grateful for Ellie. Someone who cared, someone who saw you were hurting and needed help without having to ask for it. So you let her clean you up in your bathroom when you arrived back home, her nimble fingers delicately pressing against your wounds, cleansing them as best she could before pressing band aids and butterfly bandages against your cuts and then making you an ice pack to help with the swelling.

She tucked you into bed and made you drink some water before sitting down on the edge of your mattress with a sigh.

"I had no idea," she began, and you quickly waved her off.

"I know. It's... I know," you said, at a loss for words.

"You didn't really hurt your back, did you?" she asked, and you slowly shook your head. "That motherfucker," she seethed, "I can't believe him, I'm going to kill him, I swear-"

"Just leave him alone," you told her, "Let me handle it."

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, each of you lost in your own thoughts before she spoke again.

"It wasn't like that before," she began, and at first you weren't following, but then you realized: she was talking about before your accident. "You were crazy about each other. Angie was never an issue. Neither of you paid her any attention. She just saw an opportunity and took advantage," Ellie said as her fingers tangled in her lap. "I shouldn't even be saying this, it feels like I'm defending him, but I swear. I was with you guys all the time. You were in love, man."

"Things changed, I guess," you said sadly, but she shook her head.

"You guys are what inspired me and Dina to go for it," she said softly, avoiding your gaze. "We were scared, but I saw how you two were together and how you made it work and, I don't know," she said, picking at her fingernail, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I look up to you guys. And it's kind of fucking with my head right now that all this is happening."

"Ellie, no," you said, shifting a bit in bed and reaching out to her. "Don't say that. Don't question what you and Dina have because of me and Joel."

She swallowed and looked at you, her eyes soft and worried.

"Why did he do it?" she asked quietly, and you could hear the pain in her voice. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged.

"It's complicated."

She nodded and looked away. "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Would you give him a chance? Just hear him out and let him explain?" she begged, and you immediately bristled. "You don't have to forgive him. Just... don't give up yet. Please. He loves you, I know it, and... and I think you love him, too."

You scoffed then cleared your throat, your fingers coming up to press gently on your tender neck. "I don't love him," you croaked, but she shook her head.

"If you don't love him then why do you care so much?" she countered, and you fell silent, unable to give her an answer, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. "Why did you almost kill Angie for sleeping with him if you didn't love him?"

"Sleeping with - no, Ellie. They didn't have sex. He kissed her," you quickly explained, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You rearranged her face because he kissed her?" she asked in disbelief, then laughed softly and stood up. "I'm not saying he didn't fuck up, but dude. Come on. You gotta see it, now, right?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.

"Alright. For you, I'll... talk to him, or whatever," you grumbled half-heartedly.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding more like herself once again before turning to leave and allowing you to rest. If you had any inkling she was trying to manipulate you into forgiving Joel, it was quickly expunged because you awoke an hour later to her arguing with him in the living room when he arrived home, the conversation ending with her storming out of the house and then his weary footsteps slowly climbing up the stairs.

Once again, you watched as he paused outside your room, two narrow shadows cast by his legs breaking up the thin beam of light under your door until he thought better of it and kept walking, his own bedroom door closing softly with a click.

The pain was worse the next morning, but you refused to admit it. The cuts burned and the bruises throbbed, but you were too stubborn to let any weakness show, although one look at your bruised neck would tell anyone the truth. You forced yourself out of bed, feeling too guilty to bail on Nick after already taking so many days off to wallow in your own misery, and washed up before heading downstairs. Much to your surprise, Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, his big hand cupping a mug of coffee while he stared blankly at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. When you first saw his face, the bags under his eyes evident, even from across the room, it was clear he hardly got any sleep.

Good, you thought. Then you remembered your promise to Ellie and bit back whatever nasty remark you were getting ready to toss his way. Instead, you dragged yourself to the coffee maker, ignoring the mug Joel left out for you and choosing your own, unable to resist the urge to be just a little bit spiteful.

He cleared his throat as you poured your coffee, a warning he was about to speak, and your shoulders tensed.

"How're you feelin'?"

"About as good as I look," you muttered, bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a tiny sip before turning around. He looked up at you, for the first time seeing the extent of your injuries and he jolted forward in his chair, fighting back the instinct to stand up and inspect your wounds. He blinked rapidly, gaze skirting over your face and neck, worry etching his features until you sighed.

"It's not really that bad," you admitted, looking down at your feet.

"Tell Nick t'give you somethin' when you get to work," he said, voice strained. You nodded and took another sip of your coffee. He swallowed nervously before inching forward in his chair and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, the words laced with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, I fucked up. But you gotta believe me, I didn't go out that night lookin' for her or anyone else. I just wanted to drink and be alone for a little while." He rubbed his palms over his face while you still stared down at the floor, listening.

"I believe you," you finally said after a tense stretch of silence. He dropped his hands and looked up.

"You do?"

"Doesn't mean I forgive you, but I believe you didn't run out of here looking to shove your tongue down someone else's throat."

He grimaced and dropped his chin to his chest.

"D'you think-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look at you again. "D'you think you could ever forgive me?"

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line.

"I don't know," you said quietly. Your head was pounding, so you rubbed your forehead, his eyes trained on you anxiously from across the room, knee bouncing slightly as he waited to hear you say anything that would give him a glimmer of hope. "You really fucking hurt me, Joel," you said, trying to hide your lower lip as it trembled, but he heard the pain in your voice and it broke his heart.

"I know, I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you. I never did. Not after what happened at the hospital and definitely not now," he said, standing up and taking a few hesitant steps in your direction, stopping when he reached the kitchen island. "But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll wait as long as I need to, I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you, prove to you that-"

"I don't want to lead you on, Joel," you said solemnly, eyes watering. "I can't promise I'll ever move past it. I'm not sure we're strong enough to get through this."

"Yes, we are," he told you adamantly, "I don't want anyone else. I only want you. You ain't leadin' me on because I don't wanna go anywhere else. I don't care what that looks like in the future, I'll take whatever you give me, that's all I want."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice, and looked into the living room, the framed photo of your house that Ellie drew for you several Christmases ago, the same one you read about in your journal, catching your eye, and you felt yourself tear up.

I just want to go home, you thought, but home no longer existed. This was your home, like it or not.

You turned away, looking out the window over the sink blinking back tears, but Joel had already followed your gaze to the photo.

"I should get going," you said, voice thick. You chugged whatever coffee you could and dumped the rest in the sink.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, following you to the door, "I'm gonna make this right." You scoffed.

"Yeah, okay," you mumbled sarcastically, shoving on your boots and coat before swinging open the door and heading out into the frigid winter morning, big flakes of snow slowly swirling and falling from the sky as Joel watched you trudge down the street, hunched over and curled in on yourself. A shell of the person he knew you to be.

He did that. He caused you pain. And it made him sick.

But at least he finally thought of a way he could prove how much you meant to him.

Sweat covered your forehead by the time you made it to the infirmary, your wool knit cap to blame for the excessive heat pouring from your head while your face was ice cold. You yanked it off your head and shed your coat before making your way to the back, your hair sticking to your forehead. Nick was nowhere to be found, but one of the exam room doors was closed and you heard voices murmuring on the other side. Assuming he had an early patient, you pulled your hair back and got to work. It was supposed to be a quiet day. Nick wanted you to work on an updated inventory list after getting a big batch of supplies two weeks prior from an unexplored hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.

The exam room door swung open, the voices clearer now, and your shoulders stiffened when you recognized the patient. You should have assumed Angie would be there that day, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to you.

Your anger had diffused a bit since the night before, that raw, exposed nerve quelled by time, but that didn't stop you from glaring at her as she passed by the inventory closet. Her swollen eyes widened with fear when she saw you and for the first time, you got a good look at the damage you inflicted. Her nose was clearly broken, she was missing a tooth and both eyes were black and blue, but the cuts on her cheeks and lips were superficial, at best.

She kept walking, not daring to say a word in your direction as your eyes followed her out the door. When she left, Nick turned around with a sigh and crossed his arms.

"How're you feeling?"

You shrugged and turned back to your clipboard. "I'm alright."

"You look like shit," he said, sidling up next to you and plucking the ibuprofen from the shelf. He tapped out two pills and dropped them into your palm before closing the bottle, putting it back where it belonged. "Did you eat?"

With just a shake of your head you popped the pills, swallowing them dry before turning back to your task.

"You gotta eat something with those, it'll tear up your stomach," he said, disappearing down the hallway and coming back a few minutes later with an apple. You grimaced but took it anyway, unable to stop your mind from replaying the memory of peeling apples with Joel just a week prior. Before everything went to hell.

Nick watched you quietly for a moment as you chewed your apple slowly and read down the list of medications on your clipboard.

"Do you, uh," he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "do you need someone to talk to?" You glanced up at him in surprise and he dropped his hand back to his side. "We don't have to talk about it. But I know you still feel like you're a stranger in this town, and that's gotta be tough." He scratched his greying chin as he glanced around the room and you had to fight back the laugh that bubbled up your throat. You couldn't help it.

He noticed the amused look on your face at his discomfort and pretended to be annoyed when he muttered, "just come find me if you wanna talk or whatever," but you knew it was just an act. Nick was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and hardly ever spoke to his patients, let alone you, his employee, about personal matters. The fact he was trying now must mean he really thought you needed it.

The older man disappeared down the hall to his office and you smiled to yourself, then focused back on work, grateful for something that took your mind off your misery, even if it was just for a moment.

"What the hell do you want?" Tommy scowled when he flung open his door to find his older brother waiting on the other side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, weight shifting foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.

"C'mon, Tommy, I'm gettin' it from all angles, here."

"I don't give a shit," he spat, turning on his heel to retreat back into the house, but left the front door open. Joel took a step inside and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing around the entryway and peering into the living room as he took off his outerwear.

"Maria home?"

"No, she's down at the stables with Violet. Showin' her the horses, gettin' her outta the house," he grumbled, angrily putting away dishes as he spoke. Joel sighed and flattened his palms against the counter.

"I gotta ask for a favor."

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, y'know that?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' know. Jesus Christ, Tommy, I made one goddamn mistake!" Joel yelled, slapping his hand against the cool countertop. Tommy twisted around, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms.

"Don't take an attitude with me," Tommy said through clenched teeth, "I don't give a shit if everyone's gangin' up on you. You deserve it! I thought she was the one you wanted to spend your life with? The one you'd do anythin' for?"

"She is!" Joel exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. Tommy's eyes softened while he watched his brother struggle, the enormity of what he did clearly taking its toll.

"Then what the fuck were you thinkin'?" he asked after a few moments, tone pleading. "Everythin' was goin' so well. You guys were havin' a nice time at the party, laughin' and smilin', we all saw it. Then you take 'er home and step out like that?"

"It's not- I was drunk and misread some things," Joel replied, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I tried to kiss her, she shot me down and I didn't take it all that well, alright?" Joel dropped his hand, exasperated, and looked at Tommy once again, taking a deep breath. "Went to the bar to drink and Angie sunk her claws into me. I got the hell outta there and confessed the second I got home but... didn't matter," he said, hanging his head between his shoulders.

"Angie said you followed her into the bathroom, Joel. Don't bullshit me, I was sittin' right there."

"I know, Jesus, it's my fault. I was drinkin' and upset and she was just... there. Pesterin' me and pushin' my buttons. It was only a second, Tommy. Nothin' else happened, y'hear me?" Joel's eyes were wide and desperate as he stared at his little brother across the kitchen.

"It's no excuse, Joel," Tommy said sadly. Joel pushed off the counter with a huff and yanked angrily at his disheveled hair again.

"I know that. I'm just tellin' you how it went down. But I gotta make it up to her. I gotta make it right."

"How the hell do you plan on doin' that? 'Cause from where I'm sittin', only way she could move past it is if I take her back out into the woods so she can hit her head again and forget," Tommy said.

Joel rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I got an idea. Don't know if it'll work, but it's all I can think of to prove what she means to me," he said softly, staring down at his fingers twisting together in his lap.

Tommy sized his brother up and down before taking a few steps closer, his hands coming to grip the back of a chair as he leaned forward.

"Let's hear it."

Joel sighed and tilted his chin up. "I need a week off from patrol. I gotta leave Jackson. And I need a horse."

"What?" Tommy asked incredulously. "In the middle of winter? Absolutely not. You'll die out there."

"I survived out there before I came to Jackson, I'll be fine."

"Been a long fuckin' time and you weren't alone when you did it," Tommy argued.

"You offerin' to help?" Joel asked, and Tommy laughed dryly. But Joel continued to stare at him.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"'Course I am," Joel replied, "she ain't ever gonna forgive me but I gotta do somethin', Tommy. I can't lose her, and right now, it really feels like I'm gonna lose her." Joel's voice cracked and he turned away, looking out the window so Tommy couldn't see the emotion behind his eyes.

Tommy groaned and yanked a chair out to sit down.

"What'dya need me to do?"

It was a long day on your feet and your face hurt more than you cared to admit, so by the time you arrived home, you decided to make yourself a sandwich and go to bed early, skipping an appearance at the dining hall where you knew half the town would be gawking at you and your wounds, anyway.

Fortunately, Joel was up in his room with the door closed when you quietly snuck upstairs with your sandwich. You were still emotionally exhausted from your brief conversation that morning and you were grateful he wasn't looking to have another one.

Nick had sent you home with one of the good pills, as he called it, so you took it with your meal and within the hour, you were out cold. Maybe if you hadn't taken the pill, you would have been awake to hear Joel's bedroom door squeak open, the rustling of fabric and the tinkling of metal cutting through the quiet hallway as he gripped his sleeping bag in one hand and his backpack stuffed with supplies in the other.

Like he usually did, he paused outside your room, his eyes lingering on the doorknob, ears straining for any sign that you were awake, that maybe you had a change of heart and he could call the whole trip off, but he was only met with silence.

He swallowed and turned towards the stairs, quietly tiptoeing down and packed another bag with food from the pantry before setting all three items by the door. At the last minute, he decided to leave a note, not even certain you would notice or care he was gone, but he knew Tommy would be furious when he found out he lied to him earlier and he really didn't want his brother to waste manpower trying to hunt him down in the wilderness. So he grabbed a pen from a drawer and an old envelope. The tip of his pen hovered over the paper as he struggled with what to say, then finally decided to keep it brief before scribbling his note, leaving it by the coffee maker where he knew you would see it.

Lastly, he strode into the living room and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his backpack before piling on his layers and heading out the front door, giving the house one last forlorn glance before slipping quietly into the night.

It was your day off, so naturally you allowed yourself to sleep in a little, hoping that the extra rest would help your bruises to heal. At the very least, you were pleased to discover the pain around your throat was significantly better than the day before.

You didn't hear Joel when you got up, but that was typical. He usually had early morning patrol shifts and was back by the afternoon, but when you came downstairs and saw the coffee wasn't made like it normally was, you froze. Your eyes drifted around, noticing his coat and boots were missing.

Maybe he was running behind and just didn't have time to make coffee.

As unusual as that might be, it was the only logical conclusion until you walked over to the coffee maker and saw an aged envelope sticking out of your favorite mug. You frowned and picked it up, eyes quickly scanning the words once, then three more times before the panic set in, your stomach churning worse and worse each time.

Tell Tommy I'll be back in a week.

He knows why.

No matter what, just know I love you with my whole heart, in this world or the next.

Joel

Boots unlaced and coat unzipped, you raced down the street towards Tommy's house, the envelope gripped tightly in your fist.

What the hell did that mean? Where did he go? What is he doing? And why did he sneak out without telling Tommy?

You banged on the door, the wood rattling violently under your clenched fist, only afterwards realizing you could have been waking their daughter but fortunately when the door opened, you saw Violet and Maria playing in the living room over Tommy's shoulder.

"What's goin' on, sugar? You okay?" he asked, voice filled with concern when he saw the look on your face.

"Joel's gone," you said hurriedly before pushing past him and entering the house, yanking off your hat and exchanging glances with Maria from across the room.

"Gone? What'dya mean, gone?"

"I mean I woke up today and he was gone, Tommy!" you exclaimed, handing him the note. "Where did he go?!"

You were aware your voice was panicky, that your eyes were wide with fear and your breath was fast and shallow, but you didn't care how it looked to them in that moment.

Tommy scanned the note and sighed, rubbing his forehead before urging you to join him in the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.

"That idiot," he murmured under his breath, handing you back the envelope.

"Where is he, Tommy?" you tried again, hoping to sound less frantic this time.

He glanced at Maria before meeting your gaze.

"He was here yesterday afternoon. Told me he needed a favor. Said he needed a week off from patrol and a horse."

"To do what?" you pressed, sinking down into an armchair next to the couch.

"He said-" he cut himself off and looked down at the note in your hand, ticking his jaw to the side as if he was contemplating how much to tell you.

"Spit it out," you demanded, and his eyes snapped back up to you.

"Said he had a plan to make things up to you. For, y'know," he waved his hand in the air, not wanting to say it. You shook your head.

"What was his plan?"

"He wouldn't tell me everything but I offered to help," Tommy admitted, glancing guiltily at Maria who shot him a surprised glare. "Said he needed to go to California, that he wanted to bring a piece of you back. I'm guessin' you're from out that way?" Tommy asked, and you nodded slowly. "He said he would wait 'til I talked to Maria and worked out the schedule but I guess he decided to fuck off-"

"Tommy!" Maria scolded sharply, covering Violet's ears, and Tommy cringed.

"Sorry," he said softly before turning back to you. "Guess he decided to lone-wolf it."

Your eyes drifted back to the note in your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat while your mind raced to catch up.

"What if he doesn't make it?" you asked, eyes still glued to the envelope, "what if he dies out there and it's all my fault?"

They heard your voice waver and exchanged sympathetic looks.

"He made a choice, he knew the risks," Maria said, "but he's a capable guy. If there were anybody who could make it out there alone, it's Joel."

"Listen, I'd send a couple guys out there lookin' for him but there's a storm brewin'," Tommy said, rubbing his chin and glancing out the window. "Been watchin' those clouds build up over the mountains all week. Told Joel as much and he agreed to wait but reckon he changed his mind and wanted to get in front of it."

"Or it was his plan all along to leave alone and he just made sure no one would come after him," Maria said, making the three of you fall quiet.

"God, what do I do?" you murmured, burying your face in your hands.

Tommy glanced at Maria and she subtly nodded towards the kitchen. He stood and cleared his throat before reaching his arms out towards his daughter.

"C'mere, let's get you somethin' to eat before naptime," he said, lifting Violet and taking her into the kitchen to give you both some privacy.

"What's going on?" Maria asked softly as she sat down in Tommy's place on the couch. You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap.

"I don't know," you said truthfully, "I'm so fucking angry at him, but..."

Maria pursed her lips knowingly. "But you still care."

You groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Yes."

"It's not like you're telling me or anyone else something we didn't already know," she said, "not after what happened with you and Angie in the middle of the street. I mean, look at you," she pointed to your bruised neck. "No one fights like that for someone they don't love."

"I don't love him," you said sternly, eyes flashing angrily in her direction. "You sound like Ellie."

"Okay, so if two people are telling you-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," you abruptly stood up, brushing your palms on your jeans. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm actually looking forward to a week of quiet," you tried to say confidently despite how tight your throat felt as you headed towards the door.

Maria called your name as she trailed after you, urging you to stay and talk, but you just pressed your lips together and shook your head.

"Seriously, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile across your face. "I have some stuff to do so I'll see you guys at dinner or something."

Before she or Tommy could say anything else, you slipped out the door and rushed down the street, back towards home.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, after you had scrubbed clean the kitchen and bathrooms, doing anything and everything you could to stay busy, that you noticed the missing picture from the wall in the living room.

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pimosworld · 12 days

Text

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing- Moon boys x f!reader, Khonshu x Hathor

🌗Series summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor, crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future.

🌘CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Friends to lovers,Angst, Fluff, flirting, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, soft dom reader, slight sub Steven, lots of communication.

WC-4.7k

A/N- I know this has taken me forever but I’m back with this story. I was feeling a little discouraged but decided to press on. For those that have stuck around I appreciate you so much.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 2

Forgiveness is a sign that the person who has wronged you, means more to you than the wrong they have dealt.

Steven has said it so many times to tourists and people he’s guided that he loves living here. So much so that he thought he was starting to believe it himself. The city is nice, his flat is nice and everything is just as it should be. Except for days like this when he can’t imagine why he lives here. The umbrella does absolutely nothing to shield him from the sideways rain that pelts his jacket and stings his face as he runs up the steps of the museum. He puts a tight smile on as he reaches the top and closes it, trying to shake off any excess before entering the building. His previous annoyance leaves his brain so quickly he can’t even remember why he was getting so worked up.

You’re standing there, leaning against the welcome desk. He has to hide the flush running up his neck at the thought of practically having you memorized from behind. You’re wearing a flowy black dress with small gold hieroglyphics as the print. On anyone else it might look a little on the nose but on you it’s adorable. You're laughing and nodding your head as you speak in that palliative tone, like you’re addressing a toddler who just did something brave or new. He can see now why as he gets a glimpse of J.B. the head of security grinning at you pleased as punch.

Idiota

“Relax, Jake he’s harmless.”

Why would the head of security be some harmless imbecile?

Steven ignores him as he approaches the desk, J.B. waving like…well he can’t say it now or Jake would be right so he’ll just say enthusiastically.

“Morning Steven.” The man is so smitten with you he actually greeted him by the proper name.

You stiffen at that and gather your things from the desk top. You don’t look his way as you offer a sincere smile to the other man. It pricks a little at his heart.

“It was nice meeting you James,I’ll be looking forward to the word of the day tomorrow.” You wave him off with your honey sweet tone and saunter away.

“You want to know the word of the day?” J.B. flips open a small booklet as Steven feels the panic rising in his gut. Did he do something? That night had been nothing short of magical and then you were gone. He knew you would be nervous and excited about your first day so he chalked it up to that when you didn’t return his texts or calls. He was obviously being stupidly optimistic that you had enjoyed the night in the same manner.

“Sorry mate, maybe tomorrow.” He scurries off trying to catch up with you without looking like he’s chasing you.

“It’s Kindred!” He yells over his shoulder as a few people look on in confusion.

He shakes his head as he picks up his pace a little. You can’t move very fast in your cute strappy heels but you certainly try and that tears his heart a little more. He’s thankful the hallway is empty as he finally catches up to you, he gently grabs your elbow as you turn to him and he’s fully hemorrhaging now when he sees your eyes.

“Love what’s wrong?”

You just shake your head and wipe your eyes. “I don’t want to cry on my first day.” A small laugh escapes you. “Well, I don’t want to cry anymore.”

Steven

“Not now Marc.”

He brushes his thumb against your cheeks, wiping a stray tear, he’s relieved you don’t pull away but you’ve got this far away look in your eyes. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Steven

“I’m a little busy at the moment.”

He seems distracted and genuinely concerned. You know it wasn’t in his nature to be mean, but you waited for so long. No note or sign that he would be back, or maybe he stepped out for coffee. You waited and waited until it started to feel like you couldn’t breathe.

“That morning.” You glance around making sure you are alone. “You were gone and I waited.” The tears start to flow again. It's so embarrassing to be crying in the hall on your first day.

Steven, it’s my fault

His eyes go wide for a moment as he regains his composure. He doesn’t want to immediately throw Marc under the bus so he scrambles for an explanation.

Blame Khonshu, he won’t even know

DON'T BLAME ME WORM

Steven ignores the giant bird at the end of the hallway, unsure of why he’s even here. “Well you see Love, sometimes Khonshu needs us at the last minute. I know that’s not an excuse but I promise it’ll never happen-“

You cut off his rambling as you wrap your arms around him, nearly knocking the wind out of him in the process.

See I told you it would work.

You lean back looking up into his puppy dog eyes. “I thought maybe you were having second thoughts.”

“Of course not, never that. In fact I’d like to…we’d like to make it up to you.” He scrunches his nose and you wonder if Jake or maybe even Marc are listening. “Dinner, our place on Friday….I promise no waking up alone.”

You peek around him as you start to hear voices down the hall. Your lips meet his briefly as his hands start to wander. “ I’d love to.”You run away before you have a chance to see the awestruck look on his face. You don’t want to get caught kissing a coworker on your first day of your new job.

Why is he here?

You don’t notice the bird leaning against the wall watching you intently as you enter the office now marked with your name on it.

****

Maybe it was the flirty texts that you kept sending each other all week, or the anticipation of not having seen them because you were so busy with taking on the new duties of your job. Perhaps the cute little notes they would leave under your office door has something to do with it.

My word of the day is peeved.

Peeved that a bloke like j.b. Even thinks he has a chance.

You chuckle at the yellow post it that was slid under your door after lunch. It’s cute how Steven has absolutely no clue that you aren’t interested in each other in the least bit. J.B is sweet and unassuming but he doesn’t hold that same charm that you see in them. It is nice however to feel wanted and sought after. It wasn’t that you were trying to make them jealous but they deserved a little shake up after the stunt they pulled that first night you stayed over.

In all honesty you knew for a fact that your relationship was strictly platonic, having met the girl that caught his eye that led small exhibit tours. You may have had a direct hand in setting them up on their first date.

It didn’t stop you from relishing in the attention from Steven or Jake making the occasional unsolicited appearance at the museum despite their protests. Just to check on you.

It’s ironic how Marc catches on first…that day before your planned date when they enter the lobby and he can feel the heat rising in his chest at the sight of you leaning against the welcome desk. The knit brown dress hugging your body in all the right ways and those damn heels that he’s not sure how you can wear everyday and still manage to do your job expertly.

It’s then that it dawns on him how J.B. Is looking at you like someone he admires and not someone to be conquered. A prospective he’s never seen until this moment that a man could look at you simply as a friend or a companion. It startles him to think that he’s gone at this all wrong, maybe you look at them as a friend as well. Someone to help you along in your career and nothing more.

Marc doesn’t even realize he’s fronting until you catch his eye. Steven is a distant garbled voice in his ear the moment you smile at him. It’s obvious you’re the only one privy to their existence and he should be extremely grateful for your trust and the delicate way in which you handle them. You reach over the desk for a pen and post it as you scribble something down on it.

Oy, what do you think you’re doin mate?

It’s obvious only to you how he squares his shoulders and straightens up. His eyes are clear and focused and he has this permanent smirk about him. The furrow of his brow is like Goldilocks and the three bears, him being smack dab in the middle.

Did you forget you don’t work at the museum?Steven pesters in his head but something keeps Marc here, pulled to you and whatever’s unfolding in front of him.

“Have fun with Laura, I look forward to hearing all about it on Monday.” You wink at J.B. and the man turns a shade of red that he didn’t think existed in the color wheel.

I don’t even hang around this long hermano.

J.B. tips his head to you as you round the corner closest to him at the desk. “Th…thanks again.” He half stammers out but you give him grace.

“Don’t mention it James.” You lean in whispering something that Marc only catches the tail end of. It’s with a V remember. You pat him on the shoulder as you make your way towards your office, the echo of your heels clicking along the marble floors.

It leaves him utterly speechless as J.B. properly greets his head mate hello for the fifth time this week. The person he’s worked with for three years and could never get his name right and yet now somehow he has it perfectly down to a science.

He waves him off, not yet ready to relinquish the body to the true holder of the day. His adrenaline is too high and he’s too set on figuring you out. He was determined to keep you at arms length and now it’s as though he can’t be away from you. He stumbles a little, drawing a few eyes as Steven tries to forcibly take the body.

Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast because I can’t hold him off much longer.

He picks up his pace a little trying not to seem hasty as you’re almost to your office door. Moving quickly and yet gliding slowly all at once.

He ignores the bird once more perched in the corner of the hallway, now a constant presence in your daily lives. Annoying them even in silence as he watches and judges their every move.

You stop just before the door and turn to face him, your hand reaching out for him and upon impulse he can’t help but take it. It’s like his body is not his own of course it’s not but in so many different ways. He feels this pull towards you like he would combust if he didn’t follow your every move.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you later.” Your breath fans across his face as he closes the gap, desperately wanting to open the door behind you and do unspeakable things to you in that office marked head curator with your name not yet etched in the paint.

All he can manage is a nod as a small post-it is slipped into his palm. His heart beats at a dangerous pace as he feels Steven pull to the front just as your office door closes in his face.

Word of the day Lecherous

Steven stands there and stares at it, your perfect handwriting and the curvy letters not making sense in his brain. The brain that he shares with two others who seemed to have stalled at the word.

He hurries as fast as he can, glancing down at the watch on his arm. Fifteen minutes until his first tour starts. Plenty of time.

Just look it up on your phone

“Oh well now, where’s the fun in that?”

Jake just chuckles at the scene unfolding before him as Steven races to the Museum Library. Heading straight to the dictionaries and forgoing the questions from the librarian who usually knew what he was shopping for.

“Oxford, Oxford…” he drags his thumb along the bindings until he finds the one he wants. He flips the pages open, finally landing on the word. “Lecherous, having or showing…” The rest of the words die on his throat.

Strong feelings of sexual desire.

****

You’re not sure what came over you this morning, what could’ve possibly possessed you to be so forward with Steven. The growing sexual tension between you has reached a fever pitch and he completely took you by surprise when you arrived tonight at their flat. His mouth was on you before you stepped through the door. The look in his eyes when he would try to focus on his task at hand as every piece of clothing was peeled from your body.

The ravenous way he licks up your neck as he has you pinned against the door, the feral sounds coming out of his mouth as you palm at his boxers having nearly undressed him in a hurry.

You need him in a way that scares you. Your hands roam over his tan, toned chest as something flashes in your eyes. It’s brief but doesn’t go unnoticed by his head mates. Steven too caught up in finally having you all to himself.

“Steven.” You pant against his mouth as he holds you suspended. “Bed…please.”

You yelp as he throws you over his shoulder. It still amazes you that this soft spoken, bibliophile has so many secrets. Never wanting to divulge too much into his night time activities. You suppose the job description comes with superhuman strength.

You giggle as he throws you down in the bed. A bed you’ve been in before under much different circumstances. Always the gentleman letting you have the bed when you stayed over as “just a friend”. You hope after tonight the latter changes into something more.

You feel a little exposed as he hesitates to join you on the bed. His eyes roaming over your body as he breathes heavily through his nose.

Really he’s thinking how lucky he is. How he could’ve possibly ended up here with you in his bed, looking at him with that slight nervous smile. He hates making you squirm but he loves knowing you’re wanting this just as much as he does. A few deep breaths won’t hurt to keep the lion in the cage a little longer.

“You are absolutely gorgeous love.” He licks his bottom lip as he dips down onto the bed. He leans down kissing up your thighs and stomach as you let out a contented sigh.

He kisses up your jaw and your lips meet his all soft and warm. His chest blooms with pride as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and you instinctively lift your hips. “So good for me love.”

You gasp as his fingers rub through your slit, groaning at how wet you are for him. You tug on his hair as he dips two fingers in, giving you no time to adjust as he curls them hitting that spot that makes you go dumb.

“Fuck…Steven.” You moan as you arch your back into him. You can feel the wet patch rub against your thigh as he ruts into you.

He’s making you sing, like he’s known your body for years. He pumps them in and out as you cry out his name louder, plummeting towards your first orgasm. You’re both too caught up to question why he’s working with expert precision. Like a book he’s read a million times he’s got you memorized.

The way you say his name spurs him on even more. The feeling is intoxicating, having you at his mercy. The louder you get the more he can feel the growing presence looming in the background. The ones that have been so quiet as to not disturb this moment. They never discussed being around and yet it turns him on even more knowing they can see how he’s got you all worked up for him.

Perhaps he should tell you but he wouldn’t dare ruin this moment. As you grip right onto his shoulders growing closer to your end. You whimper softly in his ear as he presses his thumb down on your clit. A soft cry as your climax washes over you like a warm bath.

You’re bathed in a soft sheen of sweat as you come down from your high. Your body is so hot…yes you are beautiful but physically you’re burning up. It would be concerning to anyone else if you didn’t look like you were in absolute heaven. He kisses your forehead as you smile sweetly at him. He’d be perfectly content with this being all you did tonight, but when you pull him down to you licking into his mouth as you pull down his boxers he knows you have other things in mind.

“Steven, can I ride you?” The most sinful words leave your mouth the most innocent look on your face.

Mierda

He nods frantically ignoring the first thing Jakes said in hours as you switch places. You swing your leg over his hip as your hands are on his chest, gently guiding him down against the pillows. You lean forward kissing him as you rub your pussy along his impressive length, not yet wanting to put it in. He groans against your mouth as you grind your hips nearly coming at the sweet friction.

“I’m on the pill, unless you want to wear a condom.”

“No!” It’s said more desperately than he intended as he grips your waist helping you rub deliciously along his cock. “I need to feel you.”

You slide forward just enough to notch his tip at your entrance before you sink down, taking him all the way to the hilt in one swift movement. He chokes on his words as you bottom out. Pushing against him to sit fully upright. His hands are sure to leave bruises as he fights the urge not to come just looking at you, seated perfectly in his lap.

Your eyes are hooded as you wait for him to catch his breath. One hand comes to squeeze your breast as you bite your bottom lip, clenching down on him.

She’s a fucking goddess

“Ya she is.”

It wasn’t meant to be said out loud but you don’t seem to notice or mind that you might be being watched by more than his eyes.

You experimentally roll your hips, reveling in the way he looks so wrecked beneath you. The slow drag of him through your walls as you trace your hand along his jawline. He may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and right now he’s at your mercy.

He’s babbling nonsense as you pick up your pace, bouncing up and down on his cock as his strong hands lift you. He throws his head back as he meets you thrust for thrust and you’re not sure how much longer you can last like this.

The word Jake is looking for is completely lost on him. Impressed doesn’t seem to cut it at the moment as he watches you take what you’ve wanted for months. He has to hand it to Steven for lasting this long with the way your tits bounce and you moan his name he’s not sure he’d be fairing the same.

Marc knows he fucked up the other day and yet here you are, all forgiveness and peace. You’ve been that way since the beginning, since that first day they met you. Any small part of him that was trying to keep you at arms length because of how things ended with Layla is out the window.

“Steven…I’m so close.” You whine out as he pulls you down to him.

His arms wrap around you tight as he pulls you into a messy kiss, his hips punching every breath out of your lungs as he takes control from the bottom. It’s intoxicating how he grunts in your ear with exertion as he hits that spot over and over. Your pussy clenching around his cock as he bites down on your shoulder.

You hope he’s not gone deaf from the scream you let out as you reach your climax.

“Oh fuck, love where?”

“Inside me Steven.”

He groans as he spills himself deep inside you, an obscene sound of skin on skin as you ride out your high echoes through the room. He rubs your back whispering praise into your ear as you shake in his arms.

“Steven that was…”

“I know love…it was for me too.” He kisses you softly as you bask in the afterglow. Not yet wanting to break this spell. You wonder what he’s thinking right now as he smiles up at you, brushing your hair back from your face.

Steven rolls you slightly to deposit you under the sheets. He retreats to the bathroom, running a warm washcloth under the tap and catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

Bravo hermano

Not that he needed the praise but it makes him swell with pride nonetheless.

You’re already nearly asleep when he returns to clean you up, gently brushing the towel over you trying not to wake you too much. You look perfectly divine in their bed and he knows they’re all thinking it. Even if it’s too soon, they hope that this will be a permanent thing.

You stir a little as he slides under the covers, wrapping his arms around you as you nestle closer to him.

“Sleep love, I’ll be here in the morning.”

****

There's a slight knock on your chamber doors before you beckon the visitor to come in. You recognize the small stature of your servant girl but her face is shielded by the large cartouche adorned with flowers. She sets it down on your table along with the rest you’ve received each day this week, which would make this the fifth.

She sends you a knowing glance as she sets them right to face the sun shining bright from the west doors. “Hathor, you must have done something right.”

“Watch yourself.” You point at her. “I’ve done nothing of the sort.”

“My apologies.” She dips her head as she bows to you.

You approach her and lift her chin slowly with your finger, the timid look on her face is not one you’re used to. You weren’t like the others and it came off harsher than intended. “You’re forgiven, I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

“Forgive me….but Khonshu is hardly one to try this hard.”

You laugh at her forwardness but decide she needs a lesson in things above her comprehension.

“My dear, that’s exactly my point. He’s trying very hard and it’s all for me. Why would I make it so easy for him to stop trying?” You release her chin as she weighs your words. “You can go now, I won’t be needing your assistance until the feast.”

She bows her head and exits your chambers leaving you to admire the newest addition of flowers.

The scent of jasmine fills the air as you run your finger along the orange mandrake petals. In the center of each ornate bouquet was a large blue lotus flower. Perhaps a coincidence on his part that it happened to be your favorite.

You pluck out a small sealed papyrus placed in the soil. You brush your fingers along the delicate paper not wanting to miss a detail.

My dearest Hathor,

I have waited a thousand years for you, and I will wait a thousand more.

Mer Khonshu

****

You wake just as you did that first morning after spending the night with Steven but this feels much different. You’re wrapped up a little tighter than when you fell asleep. You’re hugging a pillow that must be theirs as the smell of musk and pine hits your senses.

Another smell is working its way to you, nutmeg and vanilla with a hint of coffee. You sit up and stretch your sore muscles and find a small pile of clothes next to you on the bed. You can see a shirtless Steven humming something in the kitchen, his back muscles rippling as he stirs something in the bowl. His sweats are hung low on his waist and his shoulders are squared back and for a brief moment you wonder who you are actually looking at.

It sounds like he’s talking to someone…more like bickering so you take this moment to slink out of bed and freshen up in the bathroom.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror and to your surprise you look refreshed. Dare you say even glowing, despite needing a shower. You splashed some water on your face and used your spare toothbrush that they insisted you leave here and it dawns on you how normal this all feels. Over the months you’ve weaved your way into their lives and they gladly accepted whatever form of this they could get.

You pull on the gray sweatpants and breathe in the fresch scent of the gently used museum gift shop t-shirt Steven lent you before pulling it over your head.

You notice when you exit the bathroom he’s wearing a shirt now and you silently wish he was still shirtless so you could run your hands along his toned chest. His posture is much more relaxed now as he cautiously smiles at you. “I hope you like French toast.” He says as he serves you up a plate of golden brown goodness.

“I happen to love French toast, although I’m sure whatever you make would be amazing.” He blushes at the compliment as you take a seat at the kitchen island, not wasting a moment to dig in. In your haste you both had forgotten dinner the night before and you didn’t realize how starving you were.

You moan as the syrupy sweet flavor hits your tongue and his eyes widen a little as he leans against the counter gauging your reaction. A quick glance to his left that you almost miss and he clears his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit for breakfast darling.”

“Oh.”

“Ugh ya…Marc figured it would be best I don’t burn the house down trying to impress you.” He nervously rubs his hand along the back of his neck.

“Well consider me impressed, and tell Marc to stop cooking for me and disappearing.”You reach over, taking his other hand pulling him towards you as he kindly obliges. You spin the chair as he settles in the spot between your legs. His hands instinctively go to your waist as his warm breath fans across your face. “Steven…can I kiss you?”

He huffs out a little in laughter as you tilt your head in question. “Love, after last night. You never have to ask.”

He closes the space between you as his lips meet yours. The taste of mint and syrup mixing together as he cups your jaw with his palm. Your chest blooms as you revel in the way he already has you like putty in his hands. It’s a moment before you break away for air and if you have a repeat of last night you’ll die from starvation.

“I hope you slept well.”

You humm as you resume your breakfast, he’s leaning against the counter again, completely content with just watching you enjoy your breakfast. “I did…but I keep having these bizarre dreams.” You think back for a moment just staring at some object on the counter.

“Care to share it with me.” He asks as the presence of both head mates are at attention.

“Tell me more of your god Khonshu?”

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