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mattslolita · 15 days

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older - m. sturniolo

in which ... your boyfriend comes back pissed off, and you let him take his anger out on you. older!boyfriend!matt x black!fem!reader

warnings ; rough!dom!matt , sub!reader , unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks ), oral ( fem! receiving ), fingering , creampie

"𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

you had just got home from your shopping spree with your friend, a happy and giddy mess as you held your bags in your hand whilst you made your way up to your boyfriend's room.

since he had work, he had made sure to give you one of the spare keys to the home he shared with he and his brothers — he took care of everything, even providing you with a place to live, as he wanted you living with him.

you also wanted to hurry and get your bags sorted out before he came back, in case he needed to finish up some work so you wouldn't be in his way.

after putting your bags on the bed in you guys' shared bedroom, you strip from your outside clothing into your pajamas for the rest of the day, deciding to keep the pink bow you wore in your hair. you then made your way downstairs into the kitchen. you slid around in your socks as you stopped in front of the fridge, opening it as you hummed to a song under your breath.

you took out fresh strawberries and a rootbeer, setting them both on the counter as you closed the fridge — whilst balancing the strawberries in one hand and the rootbeer can in the other, you pranced back upstairs into the room, closing the door behind you as you did so.

you set the strawberries on the neat and tidy desk space, along with the root beer. cracking the can open, you take a small sip of the bubbly, sugary liquid as it goes down your throat.

the small mini speaker you kept on the vanity desk sat there, causing you to grin as you hooked your phone to it, turning on the bluetooth. you sat down at the vanity desk, a hand under your chin as you put both your feet under thighs, causing your ass to pop out slightly.

you begin to hum as you can be the boss by lana del rey plays throughout the speaker, standing up and walking over to the bags.

"you taste like the fourth of july, malt liquor on your breath my my," you sing, taking out a cute top, "i love you but i don't know why."

your socks padded against the floor as you almost bounced over to the mirror, holding the top up to you as you tilted your head while gazing at yourself. a smile instantly overtakes your features as you go to hang the top up in the closet.

a loud opening of the bedroom door causes you to gasp and turn around, only to find your boyfriend with an irritable expression painting his features, running a hand along the stubble on his jaw.

"hi baby!" you say cheerily, in attempt to fix his frown, his eyes immediately raking over your body causing you to tingle nervously, "is everything okay?"

"everything's fine, doll," he huffs, and you frown at this, crossing your arms over your chest taking slow steps towards him. "i'm just pissed as fuck right now."

his eyes settle onto your shared bed just then, causing you to bite your lip worriedly as they scan the various shopping bags. "where'd you go while i was gone?"

"it's no big deal, i just went shopping with sasha," you say nervously, prancing over towards the bed as you hold up a different top to show him, "do you like this?"

"whose money did you use?" he curves your question with his own, his arms crossing over his chest as you get a full view of the tatted arm causing a wetness to form in the cloth of your thong.

"mine..." you answer him, your doe eyes looking up at him as you blink.

"your money," he chuckles, except there's not a hint of amusement in his tone of voice — it's a condescending tone he takes with you, and you can already see what's going to happen before it does.

"what'd i tell you?" he asks you, walking up to you slowly, as your legs are now pressed against the bed while his hands go to grip your waist harshly, "about spending your money? did you forget the rules, bunny?"

"n-no," you swallow, attempting to divert your gaze elsewhere.

his ringed hand hooks onto your jaw, forcing your gaze upright towards his. "look at me when i'm talking to you, doll. did you forget the rules?"

"no, i didn't forget the rules," you shake your head, your bottom lip pouting slightly as you answered him.

"tuh, i was almost hoping you had forgotten," he says with a shake of his head, his jaw ticking, "i'm already pissed the fuck off about work, then i come home to see this?"

"m'sorry, baby," you tell him, your eyes downcast slightly, until suddenly they glimmer with an idea as you look up at him. "do you wanna talk about work?"

"no," he grunts, tracing small patterns along your waist as you're still pressed up against him, causing your legs to almost give out, "i don't want to talk about shit."

"you can take your anger out on me," you meekly suggest to him, looking up with doe eyes as you trace patterns along his chest.

his blue eyes turn dark and his gaze on you now primal, as he licks his lips whilst he looks down at you — he pulls you flush against himself, connecting your lips angrily as your teeth clash. he hooks his arms under your legs and lifts you onto the bed, throwing you back down as his lips never leave yours.

he swallows a moan you let out as his tongue explores your mouth, the kiss sloppy while his hands travel up and down your body — he tugs at your bottom lips and clamps down on it slightly, causing you to whine as he pulls away, your saliva connecting both of your lips.

"such a whiny girl, always so needy," matt hums, tugging on the waistband of your shorts as he licks his lips, "you gonna let me taste you, princess?"

"please," you whine out, bucking your hips up into his to gain some sort of friction, "need you so bad, matt."

he presses your hips back down into the mattress, connecting your lips once again in a hungry, impatient kiss. he travels down to your neck, biting on the sensitive skin there and pulling out a moan from you, as he continues in a pattern leaving you writhing under his grasp.

he pulls away to admire his work with a smirk. "can't wait for you to see what that looks like."

his lips are back on your skin feverishly, pulling your top over your head as he travels down and leaves a trail of kisses to your stomach down to your navel, causing you to whine as he makes his way to the lower half of your body slowly. "matt, don't tease me-"

"i can tease you however i want, bunny," matt growls as he latches onto your thighs, his fingers creating crescent shapes in your plush brown skin as he yanks you closer to him. "now be a good girl and let me have a taste."

he's quick to snatch both your shorts and thong off your body, moving so that his face was level with your already wet pussy — he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your sensitive bud, licking and sucking at it harshly causing a string of moans to erupt from your throat.

"f-fuck matt, feels so good!" you moan out, arching your back as one hand goes to grip his hair whilst the other fists the sheets.

he continues his assault on your pussy, licking a stripe up it before he decides to add two fingers in your dripping core while he eats you out. "oh m-my gosh, yes!"

"could taste this pussy for hours," matt groans, diving back into you with his mouth as his fingers curl inside your walls.

"please, don't stop!" you whine out, tugging at his hair harshly as his fingers curl into the sweet spot inside you, his tongue nipping and sucking at your bundle of nerves.

"you close yet, angel?" matt asks you, coming up quickly as he stares at you, your head thrown back and back arched, and he feels the way your walls squeeze his ringed fingers. "let go f'me, c'mon."

"fuck, i'm-"

like a tidal wave your orgasm comes crashing down, and you let out a loud pornographic moan of matt's name whilst you squirt all over his tongue — he lapped up the remainder of your juices, swallowing every drop as he comes up, a wicked grin painting his features as he stares down at you.

"can't wait to fuck you dumb, baby," he mumbles, quickly sliding out of his sweatpants and boxers, his cock wet with precum.

your eyes widen slightly, your lip beginning to quiver. "m-matt, i'm still sensitive-"

"i know you can take it, doll," matt tells you, stroking his cock along your pussy, lubricating his cock in your juices causing him to let out a low moan, "look at me."

without warning, he rams into you, his hips snapping against your pelvis causing you to cry out, the pain soon turning into pleasure — your nails dig into his back which were sure to create scratches as he plows into you.

"oh fuck me, your pussy feels so good," matt groans, his cock sliding in and out of you at an ungodly pace. all that could be heard was the squelching of both your juices mixed with the slapping of skin.

"right there, fuck!" you moan, arching your back as his tip kisses your cervix, causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head as your nails dig into his flesh.

"such a potty mouth," matt tuts, gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. he glares down at you, one hand wrapping around your throat, putting slight pressure onto it, "oh, and did you think i forgot about your little shopping spree? such a bad girl, don't know when to listen to me."

he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, this new angle causing you to see stars as his pace somehow increases — you're a moaning mess and you'll definitely be sore by the time he's finished, but you didn't care; you loved when he fucked you senseless.

a small puddle of drool formed at the creases of your mouth, your eyes still rolled back as matt's cock continued thrusting into you harshly. "look at that, all fucked out f'me. you liked being fucked like a slut?"

all you could do is nod and whimper, causing his to grip your chin once again, forcing your gaze towards his own. "use your fuckin' words, doll face. you like being fucked like a slut?"

"y-yes, matt," you babbled, clenching around his cock as your nails drove into his flesh harder, "m'close again..."

"yeah?" matt groans, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly as his cock drilled into you, "hold it."

"i-i can't-"

"you can bunny, and you will," matt growls in your ear, biting down on your earlobe slightly before he presses sloppy kisses against your neck, biting down harshly, "fuck, i'm gonna cum. gonna let me fill you up, princess?"

"please," you whimper, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

with a moan of your name and multiple curses, matt shoots his load inside of you, painting your walls a creamy white as his hips sputter — however, he doesn't stop his assault on your pussy, still drilling his cock in and out of you.

"go on and cum f'me angel, i can feel you squeezing me," you groans in your ear.

another loud moan ensued, as your legs shook and you came on his cock, your juices now mixing with his — after one last sloppy thrust, matt pulls out of you and falls down next to you.

"you okay, bunny?" matt asks you, placing a kiss to your temple as he rubs his hand along your stomach.

"just can't move that good," you mumble weakly, giving him a small smile.

"fuck, c'mere baby," matt curses, and you scoot as close to him as possible.

he hooks both arms under your legs and your head, carrying you towards your shared bathroom — you stood there weakly, your legs still shaking as he helps you sit down so you can pee.

"stay here, and you better pee, okay?" matt instructs you, and you hum as he leaves the bathroom momentarily.

he comes back with a washcloth, wiping your legs up and rubbing smooth circles around it, causing you to relax as you smile down at him shyly.

"how bout we take a shower?" matt asks you, and you nod giddily.

matt helps you stand up and he flushes the toilet. when you turn to the mirror, your eyes widen at your neck, and you move as to get a better look at what it says.

m a t t.

lil 💌

hi gang, hope i ain't disappoint w this smut😞 my thighs were lowkey clenched the entire time, i need someone to ruin me like this💔 i love you guysss hope you enjoyed ts muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @guccifrog @thenickgirl @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @eyeliketoeatpoosay @middlepartmatt @chris-slut @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturnprime @sp3aknaur @hysteria-things @stasiesturn @moonk1ss3d @l0akkzz @sturn777 @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @k4di333 @pinksturniolo @jnkvivi @hoesformatt @sturncakez @livelovepercabeth

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55sturn · 2 months

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✮⋆˙ SOME TYPE OF WAY

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl fem!reader

synopsis: y/n takes matt up on the offer he proposes after they meet at a party, their tension thicker than their resolve.

warnings: swearing, reckless driving [ matt’s a thrill seeker / adrenaline junkie ], sexual tension, 18+, sexual content [ groping over and underneath the clothes ], making out, choking, spit swapping, open ending.

THIRD PERSON POV

y/n has always been a very organized person, every move she made was calculated and meticulous, not leaving enough room for error or her anxiety to spiral up a storm. some would lean toward calling her uptight, but she would let it roll off her back like water because she found a way for everything in her life to fall in line smoothly without many problems arising.

her best friend, jess, has always been the exact opposite of her. she was chaotic and messy, always running late, often being caught in compromising situations and relying on y/n to bail her out. the two were on the opposites of the personality spectrum, and people would screw their faces up at the sight of the two, but they paid no mind because their bond worked.

jess always joked about breaking y/n, turning into the opposite of her but y/n was stubborn, finding the utmost comfort in the way she lived. she didn't see the appeal of chaos and living without restriction.

but her class load had grown rather heavy, and she felt her impulse control weakening the more jess mentioned this massive influencer party that she had garnered invites for through multiple connections, and jess wasn’t backing down.

“fine. i think it’s time i take a break anyway, jess.”

“wait? are you for real right now?” jess exclaimed, shocked that for once in their friendship, she wasn’t going to a party alone.

WE ONLY MET EACH OTHER JUST THE OTHER DAY

as y/n followed jess through the crowd of people, she felt an overwhelming swarm of different and conflicting emotions, part of her wanted to turn around and walk back to her apartment, while the other part wanted to stick it out, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as she psyched herself out to believe, especially if jess, who was known for being blunt and outspoken if someone was overwhelming, could tolerate it.

y/n felt out of place, clad in a baby pink pleather mini skirt, and a matching pink long sleeve raglan baby tee, both courtesy of jess, and a pair of pink platform converse. she quickly trailed behind her best friend, who seemed to know her way around the house, more so mansion, they were partying at, heading toward the kitchen.

“so what are you wanting to drink?” jess hums, gesturing the otherworldly amounts of alcohol littering the large island in the kitchen.

“just pick something and make a drink for me.” y/n replies, turning back to face the crowd of people, watching as couples and people nearly fucked each other on various surfaces among the house. as her gaze kept flitting about the crowd of people, she briefly met the eyes of some guy across the room.

she felt her cheeks began to warm as he flashed her a lopsided smirk, his blue eyes boring into hers beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair. she returns his smirk, but hers is much gentler before turning back to jess, taking the red solo cup, staring at the dark liquid swirling in it. y/n cautiously takes a sip, while she trusts jess not to fuck her over and get her obnoxiously drunk, she’s still wary of the alcohol mixed with soda in her cup, she’s only been drunk a handful of times.

she swallows the dark drink, the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet, almost foamy taste of root beer filling her mouth, causing her to salivate ever so slightly as she takes another gracious sip.

“thank you for not giving me something other than vodka.” she laughs, watching as jess grabs two more solo cups, pouring two hefty shots of vodka into them, quickly handing one to y/n, who clinks her plastic cup against jess’ before quickly downing the shot, followed by a large gulp of her drink.

the two slowly make their way out of the kitchen, dancing with each other before beginning to talk and mingle with the rest of the people. y/n was shocked at how easily she fit into the world of influencers and content creators. as she made her way toward the deck, she felt eyes watching her, brushing it off she exited the stuffy house, finding solace in the cool april air clinging to her skin as she leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch.

as proud as she was of herself for stepping away from her studies for a night, she still needed a moment of peace, or even just a moment alone.

but her tranquility was interrupted by the sliding door opening and shutting softly, she turned to head back inside but she was met with the same blue eyes she held contact with prior.

“hey.” he nods, pulling a cigarette from the pack that sat in his back pocket, grabbing a black and silver zippo lighter, flicking it quickly.

“hi.”

“so what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, the dingy light from the fairy lights lining the roof catching his tattoos, completely enamouring y/n as she watched his arm flex and relax, the muscle tee he wore showing off his lean arms. at first glance, you wouldn’t expect him to have any muscle but as he moved his arm, y/n was thoroughly impressed.

“my friend dragged me here. what about you?” she replies, resting her tailbone against the railing as he smirks, his head cocked to the side as his eyes flick across her features.

“what’d’ya mean?”

“just that you don’t seem like the party either, very quiet.”

“and how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“well seeing as i came out here because it’s overwhelming in there, and you did the same, and we’re the only two people out here, i’m assuming you came out here for the same reason.” she laughs, taking a sip of her drink, holding his curious stare over the rim of the flimsy cup, not once dropping his intense gaze.

“what if i just wanted to get you alone?” he teases, watching as she rolls her eyes, laughing to himself.

“then you’d be a total creep. i don’t even know your name.” she laughs, shocking herself at how easily she warmed up to him.

“it’s matt.”

“you look like a matt.” she hums placing her empty cup on the railing beside before pushing herself up, sitting along the wide railing, her legs dangling slightly as matt puffs on his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the grass below.

“what about you? you got a name or am i gonna have to keep calling you sweetheart?”

“y/n.” she whispers, her face warming at the nickname falling from his lips, she normally wasn’t one for slightly condescending pet names, but it sounded so sickly and sinfully sweet coming from the stranger beside her.

“that suits you, a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” he muses, watching as she turns her head away from in a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“your tattoos are really pretty.”

“you think so?” he hums, shifting closer to her to let her see them, watching as her eyes shift from each intricate piece, marvelling at the dark ink contrasting against his ivory skin.

“what’s your favourite one?”

“probably cerberus or the owl. what about you? you got any?” he asks, genuinely curious to know more about the girl beside him, wondering if there was more to the soft and timid appearance.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, crossing her legs, causing her skirt to ride up the tiniest bit, showing the smallest amount of ink on the side of her thigh, smirking as matt’s eyes shamelessly drifted to the exposed skin.

the two keep talking and getting to know one another, even going as far as to get each other’s numbers, the tension growing thick between the two until jess stumbles through the door, violently drunk as she babbles away about some guy she wanted to leave with.

“if she wants to go with him, i can give you a ride home on my bike.”

“we took an uber, so i’ll just order another one but i appreciate the offer.”

“well if you ever need a ride, just shoot me a text.”

BUT YOU ALREADY GOT ME FEELIN’ SOME TYPE OF WAY

over the course of a few weeks, y/n and matt continued to keep in touch, constantly texting one another. the tension never faltering as they bounced flirty and sexual innuendos off one another.

matt has begged for the two of them to hang out, either over facetime or in person, numerous times, even going as far as to ask to take her for a ride on his bike. but she declined every time, letting him know that her studies came first.

normally, if a girl wasn’t really interested in meeting up, whether to hang out or hook up, matt would give up within the first few days. but there was something about y/n that had him inexplicably drawn to her. the soft, delicate, almost innocent appeal to her had him feeling all sorts of ways.

talking to her had him feeling the same way speeding down the seventy stretch a couple blocks from his house on his kawasaki bike did. it was exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying all the same. everything she said, made him feel things he had never experienced, it was like he was speeding down a winding freeway, his arms outstretched on either side of him, letting fate decide what happened.

NOW IF I COULD FIGURE IT OUT, ID TAKE YOU BACK TO MY HOUSE SO WE COULD MEDDLE ABOUT

y/n sighed as she waited on the curb of the restaurant, hoping that the guy from her global economics discussion course that had asked her out would show up. but she knew deep down, he wasn’t going to.

it was another story where she was asked, only to be taken for a fool. she knew he only wanted to fuck, she knew guys were attracted to her pseudo-innocent appearance, thinking they could be the lucky one to corrupt her. but she knew better, and she always made sure the guys put up a fight before receiving what they wanted.

she sighed as she stood, wiping off the back of her jeans before pulling her phone out of her pocket. she opened her texts with jess before remembering jess was at a photoshoot for some clothing brand that reached out to her.

she stood there, glancing and forth between her phone and the sidewalk, torn between swallowing her pride and reaching out to matt to pick her up, or walking home, saving ego from taking a massive blow.

she was stubborn. she wanted to see matt, but she knew what his end goal was and she refused to take another hit to her pride and ego so quickly after being stood up and humiliated by some loser in one of her classes. so, she slowly made her way down the winding sidewalk, but the cold air made the walk somewhat unbearable, and before she knew it, she was pressing the call button, listening to the dial tone. after two rings, matt picked up.

“hey sweetheart.” he hummed into the speaker, that same taunting tone never faltering over the device.

“can you pick me up? i’ll send you my location.”

“aw, what happened? did jake stand you up, just like i said he would?” he laughs, causing her to groan. he was never malicious in the way he poked and prodded at her, he just wanted to prove she didn’t have to be right all the time.

“yeah whatever. can you pick me up or not?” she spits, fed up with the way her night turned out.

“lose the attitude and i can.” he spits back, patiently waiting for her to ask in that sugary sweet voice that had his thoughts drifting to a dark place. he knew he was going to pick her up regardless, but he just wanted to use anything he could as an excuse to hear her beg for him, he wanted hee to be completely at his mercy in every possible way.

“can you please pick me up matt? i’m cold and i just wanna go home.” she pleads, her lips falling into a slight pout, internally groaning at how quickly her resolve had faltered the second he implied and demanded that she beg for him.

“i was going to regardless, just wanted to hear you beg for my help, sweetheart.” he chuckles, he knew the way he was acting was sick and twisted, his desire to see this stubborn but oh so innocent woman crumple beneath his command overtaking all sense of chivalry in his body, his desire for her manifested through such deep desperation.

she quickly thanked him before sending a ping of her location. she pocketed her phone again, and wrapped her arms around her torso as a pathetic attempt to keep her shielded from her the cold air.

as she stood there, she fought hard to keep her thoughts at bay, refusing to let the desperation seep into the depths of her mind, fighting to keep herself from feeling pathetic. she didn’t want to feel that way, she knew her worth, but sometimes it felt impossible to find someone worthy of loving her. she wondered if she should just give up the one the thing guys wanted without a fight, she would be fine, right?

but before she could answer her own thoughts of despair, a low rumble came from her left, causing her head to snap in that direction. surely enough, the sound came from the muffled engine of matt’s motorcycle. and as she watched him swerve to idle in front of her, she couldn’t stop the filthy thoughts from infiltrating her mind. her eyes shamelessly fell to the sight of his hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, the veins in his slender hands flexing as his thumb pressed down on the clutch. she felt her thighs clench tightly as her heartbeat thumped beneath her chest, the thumping slowly travelling down toward her heat as she watched him.

“hey sweetheart.” he hums, his tone thick with arrogance, watching as she shamelessly checked him out. she knew she shouldn’t be thinking of him the way she was, but the way his shoulder blades and muscle tightened and flexed as he shifted forward, leaving space for her to climb on behind him, made her want to rake her nails down the skin, her mind running amok with the possible ways he would react to her touch.

she shakes her head as she steps forward, timidly taking a step toward his bike. he watched her, taking in however scared she was, sighing he, grabs her wrist, stopping her from climbing over and straddling the seat behind him.

“you know i’ll be careful right? i’m not going to do anything that could end with you getting severely hurt.” he whispers, his eyes full of nothing but sincerity as she meets his stare, a meek smile on her face as she nods.

“good girl. now climb on, i’m gonna take my chances and take you on that ride i promised.”

her thighs clench involuntarily at the slight praise that falls from his lips, she could feel her resolve slipping further and further away the longer she was in his presence. and the fact that she would be sitting behind him, with her arms tightly wound around his waist felt much more intimate than it should’ve.

she quickly straddled the seat behind him, her hands began to shake slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, her hands flat against his abdomen as he kicked up the kickstand, leaning the bike to the other side with his foot on the ground as he revved the engine, causing her hands to ball into fists, with his black shirt tightly twisted between her fingers. as matt took off, he couldn’t help but chuckle as her grasp tightened against him, her cheek pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

her grip began to loosen as matt took her around the city, and her head lifted from his back, as she took in the scenery around her. but matt missed the way she felt pressed so tightly against him, so in true torturous fashion, he sped up, causing her to go right back to pressing so closely against him, her hands pressing against his lower stomach so firmly, he was sure there’d be marks.

but he didn’t wanted to scare her too much, so he slowed down, coming to a full stop as the light above him flickered to red. as she pulled away, she felt her adrenaline build up and she wanted to finally tease him the way he did her, so she let her hands wander down his stomach, teasingly drifting lower, only to stop right above his belt and move back up.

as her hand trailed down toward his belt, matt’s breath hitched in his throat. he desperately wanted to feel her touch him where he needed it most, but his ego was bruised, he wanted to be the one in control, and right now, he was nothing putty in her hand. the light was still red and his heart was beating so harshly against his ribcage, that felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.

as the light turned green, she pushed her hand further beyond his waistband, and he had never been more thankful to be driving at night. but before he could feel any relief, her hand was back against his stomach, with her head against his back as he drove her along the coast.

but once again they reached another red light, only one other vehicle a few lanes over from them, and this time she threw caution to the wind as her hand drifted downward again, this time not stopping at his belt. and soon enough, her hand was firmly palming his cock through his jeans, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood began filling his mouth.

he felt his cock stiffen even more as her hand wrapped around his length through his jeans, softly squeezing and applying pressure to it. her hand lifted momentarily, only for it to slip beneath the loosened waistband of his jeans, resuming her teasing but this time, only through one layer of clothing. her thumb traced along his tip, and she smirked to her as she felt the wet spot from his precum seeping through the material. she grasped his semi-thick cock over his boxers, slowly jerking her hand back and forth as best as she could until the light turned green. and matt had never been so lucky that the light turned green when it did because if she had kept up her ministrations, he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there.

he wasted no time in speeding off as the light turned green, taking her to a somewhat secluded turn off. he quickly killed the engine, forced the kickstand down, and ripped off his helmet, moving to stand in front of her before she could ask questions.

his lips were roughly pressing against hers in almost no time as she side-saddled the bike, his left hand pawing at her hips beneath the thin hoodie she wore as he pulled her closer, while his right hand wrapped around her throat, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

the kiss was rough, a clash of teeth, and full of lust. it was desperate and sloppy, their tongues brushing and pushing against one another as spit and drool accumulated along the muscles, transferring from mouth to mouth. her nails scraped against his scalp as she tugged on the soft brown curls, while her other hand held his bicep, her nails digging into the taught flesh slightly, leaving crescent shaped marks along the tattoos. pulling away, matt pulled her bottom lip with him slightly, entrance by the way it bounced back into its natural pout.

“fuck.” he hums, his chest heaving as she watches him, her pupils blown out with lust, the black drowning out their normal colour.

“i don’t know what came over me, i’m sorry.”

“don’t you dare apologize, sweetheart. but that is making it nearly impossible to not take you back to my house and ruin you.”

“what if i want that too?”

taglist: @33sturniolo @worldlxvlys @luv4kozume @gamermattsgf @vanteguccir @sturnioloshacker @greatooglymooglyyy @sugrhigh @thugpugs4lrh @teapartyprincess4two @lustfulslxt @patscorner @guccifrog @muwapsturniolo @soursturniolo @solarsturniolo @sturnioloshacker @sturniolosmind @meanttomeet @breeloveschris @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @themattgirl @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @sturnifyed @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @hearts4chriss @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @inlovewithmattstur @hysteria-things @sturniolossss @iliketotalk

[TAGLIST IS FULL!] © 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x fem!reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x fem!reader #matthew sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

Happy Saturday! If you’re still taking requests for the 2k celebration, could I request Eddie/mall/lingerie? And happy 2k followers, definitely well deserved!

It's the return of perv!best friend!Eddie, y'all. Hold on tight.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, pet names, public sex (no one around tho), barely any foreplay because I'm lazy, friends to lovers

WC: 1.6k

Shopping with Eddie is like pulling teeth. First, you have to convince him to actually come to the mall with you. Then you have to continually bribe with treats from the food court just to keep him from driving off without you. Today, he’s snacking on a giant cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and slurping on a root beer.

“Remind me why I need to be here again?” he whines as you compare two denim miniskirts that look identical to him, but apparently, you can spot a difference. He takes another bite of pretzel and sighs indignantly.

“Because,” you explain, exasperation evident in your tone, “I need a man’s opinion on what to wear for my date tonight, and you’re the closest thing I have.” You laugh as he playfully shoves you. “And I needed a ride, so…”

“So, basically, you’re just using me for my male gaze and my car, huh?” he asks, running a hand over a neatly folded pile of shirts on display.

“Pretty much.” you chirp, putting both skirts back on the rack. “Ugh, this is hopeless! I’m never gonna find something.” You blow out a big breath, puffing your cheeks. “One more store and then we can go home, I promise.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but dutifully follows behind you, taking the opportunity to check out the way your shorts perfectly hug your ass. He feels a twitch in his pants as your hips sway back and forth, and he wills himself to look away.

Unfortunately, in his pursuit to keep himself from popping a boner in the middle of the Starcourt Mall, his gaze lands on the entrance to a lingerie boutique. The mannequin out in front is adorned with a red lace teddy that leaves nothing to the imagination. His eyes dart back to you, and all he can think about is you wearing it. But not for your date with whatever schmuck you’re going out with tonight; no, Eddie wants you to wear it for him. In his bed, straddling his waist, grinding on his–

“Shit,” he mutters. He thinks his voice is low enough to keep you from hearing, but he cringes as you swivel around to see what the problem is, catching him trying to discreetly adjust himself over his jeans.

“You okay–oh,” you giggle, taking notice of his predicament. “Careful, Casanova; y’might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.” You put your forearm on his shoulder and rest your chin on top of it, making him tense up even more. “Who are you picturing in that? Chrissy Cunningham? Tammy Thompson?” Before he can answer, you press on. “Ooh, or maybe a supermodel, like Cindy Crawford or Iman? C’mon, who is it?”

“What if I was picturing you?” Eddie tries to play off his words teasingly, but the raw lust blowing out his pupils gives him away.

Biting your lower lip, you can taste the gloss you’d applied earlier. Every time Eddie jokes with you like this, pretending he wants you, it kills you inside. “Do you think I should try it on?” You look at him innocently, batting your eyelashes as you call his bluff. “Y’know, for Kyle tonight?”

At the mention of your date’s name, Eddie shrugs your arm off of him. “No,” he growls, hooking a ringed finger through your belt loop, “want you to try it on for me.” There’s no hiding his hardness now, and you can feel his heart beating faster as he draws closer to you. He swallows thickly, waiting for your response.

You’re too stunned to speak. Eddie has always been a flirt, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, but he’s your best friend. There’s no way he seriously wants to see you in lingerie, right?

“O-Okay,” you manage, turning towards the store. Eddie intertwines his pinky with yours as though ensuring he won’t lose sight of you. You find the teddy in your size and bring it into the dressing room. To Eddie’s dismay, you yank the velvet curtain closed. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find a gap wide enough to get a glimpse of you changing. He can just imagine you shimmying out of your clothes and into the sheer lingerie.

Fuck it.

Careful not to expose you to a customer passing by, Eddie slips into the room, resting his hands on your waist as you examine yourself in the mirror. The lace clings to your body, hugging your curves in all the right ways. You can feel his hard length pressed up against the back of your naked thigh.

“Eddie,” you breathe out, trying to ignore the fluttering below your belly, “what are you doing?”

“Tell me something, princess,” he says, purposefully ignoring your question, “I pictured you putting this on, but who did you picture taking it off?” He waits for what seems like an eternity, silently praying that Kyle’s name doesn’t pass through your lips.

You turn to face him, letting his strong hands fall below the curve of your ass. “You, Eddie. Always you.” As soon as you give your answer, Eddie’s mouth crashes onto yours. He brings one palm to cup your cheek while he kisses you hungrily, moaning lightly with each flicker of his tongue against yours. He guides you to the wall, palming your breasts through the minimal covering.

Eddie nudges his knee between your thighs, brushing against your sensitive sex, and you moan involuntarily. “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling at your reaction to his touch, “so needy, aren’t we? I bet you’re already soaking wet. Almost pathetic how desperate you are f’me, huh?” You want to fire back with a witty retort about how he was the one who wanted you in lingerie; he barged into the dressing room while you were changing, but you can’t string words together to form a sentence. Instead, you nod dumbly, making him laugh again. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you a little secret.” He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about your sexy little body in one of these. Not even the first time today, actually.”

With that, your fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it as deftly as you can, and tug his pants and boxers down his thighs. His throbbing cock thwacks against his torso, leaving a pre-cum stain on his shirt. He hisses at the sudden relief, using his own fluids as lube to pump himself. You start to get onto your knees, but he stops you.

“If you put your mouth on me, ‘m never gonna last,” he warns with a smirk. “That’ll be for next time, yeah?” The promise of a next time excites you even more, and you allow him to hoist you up against the wall, pushing aside the lace as he runs his cock along your slick folds. “Y’ready?” His eyes are wide; though he wants nothing more than to be inside you, but only if you want to. When you nod, his smile exposes his soft dimples. “Thas’ my girl.”

My girl my girl my girl. The words swirl through your brain as Eddie pushes his mushroom tip into you. The stretch is a mixture of pleasure and pain, melting into only the former as he slowly ruts up into you, allowing you to take a bit more of him each time.

Eddie’s never had sex this good before. You dig your fingernails into his back as your pussy clenches around him; he feels himself growing even harder inside you. He grabs the plush of your ass as he quickens his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groans, nearly whimpering as you tug on his hair. “Your body was meant for me, baby. Takin’ me so well, like you were made for my cock.”

“I was m-made for you,” you echo, feeling your body tremble with delight. “Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck, Eddie!” You lean your head back, exposing your throat and giving him the perfect angle to suck a bruise just above your collarbone.

Eddie chants your name, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves more hickeys. “Can’t hold back much longer,” he confesses, trailing his tongue over the fresh set of love bites, but he keeps the same rhythm that’s driving you wild. “Wanna get my princess off before I do, though.”

“K-Keep going until you c-cum, please,” you beg him, “just like that.” You bring your middle finger down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles until you feel your orgasm wash over you. “Yes, Eddie. I’m cumming, cumming for you…feel s’good.”

Bucking his hips harder and chasing his release, Eddie is a panting mess. “Shit–gonna cum, gonna cum in-inside you, fuck.” His hot seed coats your walls as he cries out your name one last time. He gently pulls out of you, leaving cum dripping down your leg while you struggle to regain your balance.

“Looks like we ruined it,” he offers, motioning to the lingerie. There’s tears along the crotch where he roughly moved the fabric, and the mixture of your releases is starting to leave a stain. He tears off the price tag and crumples it, tossing it to the floor. “Put your clothes on over it, hmm? It’ll be our little secret.” He pauses, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Unless you wanna tell Kyle tonight?”

You shake your head. “No. No Kyle. Only you.” Honestly, you’d forgotten all about your date until Eddie just reminded you. “Gonna cancel so we can do…that again.” And hopefully again and again and again.

Eddie throws his arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “now that I’ve got you, we’re not stopping until that little number is completely destroyed.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #bug's 2k celebration

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chixkencxrry · 8 months

Text

kiss goodnight

Summary: Miguel breaks into your apartment. NSFW.

Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI. they’re both insane. Blood play. Fingering. P in V. Dirty talk. Mutual degradation. Mutual bad behavior. I wrote this instead of sleeping, so there WILL be errors.

His hands rested on your hips, fingers sprawled has he touched as much as he could, the rough skin of his palms feeling, feeling. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breathe. The scent of the lavender candles you’d lit seemed overwhelming. His lips whispered on your skin, begging alms with his want of you.

“Miguel…” you murmured, making fists of your hands. “How did you get into my apartment?”

“You forgot to lock your spare room window.” He mumbled, hands rucking up his t-shirt you’d been sleeping in, cupping the globes of your ass. His fingers massaged the flesh, groping it as he kissed your clavicle.

You groaned, hands now pressing onto his massive shoulders. “I changed my locks for a reason.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, nipping at your neck. “The reason being you’re a brat.”

At that, you almost giggled, but you stayed strong for a full minute before he kissed you. His lips soft and tongue seeking, he tasted of beer and his mouth was a familiar spark of desire. You hadn’t been a brat. Well, at least not by your standard. Miguel hadn’t spoken to you in over a week so you reacted sanely. If you’d really want to be a brat, you’d have burnt his precious Spider Quarters or whatever nerdy name he’d called that ugly ass skyscraper downtown . But no. You’d been sweet. Merely changing the locks and throwing out the apology lilies he’d sent you in day five.

Biting down on his lower lip, you drew blood, making him pull back and red eyes glared at you. At his faux anger, you giggled. Mouth stained with blood.

“Brat.” He cursed, hands pulling themselves off your body to rip the t-shirt from you. “I knew you were naked under here. You were just waiting for me to come in here and fuck you like some deranged psycho?”

“Like?” You mocked, sucking tour lower lip to taste his blood. Your hands ran down the length of his bare torso, down to the waistband of his shorts. The crazy bastard had climbed into your bed in his underwear. “Baby, you are a deranged psycho.”

He growled, resting a hand on your mound whilst his fingers rubbed your centre. He rubbed the growing dampness all around before he began to target your clit with his index and pointer. Miguel smirked down at you as your breath slowly hitched. He kept a circular motion, watching you twitch and shiver. So weak for him. So responsive. He’d fuck you all night for your attitude and mark you warm him cock all morning.

Miguel grinned when you gasped as his index finger slipped inside you. “You’ve been playing with this pussy while I’ve been gone?”

Through your lashes you teased. “What else was I suppose to do?”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Thumb pressing against your clit. “Insatiable slut, you couldn’t hold off for a week.”

“Fuck you.” You mumbled with less confidence as he added a second finger and your orgasm neared. Fuck him and his big ass fingers. Your vibrator had been a loyal friend for the past few days. “You didn’t even call.”

He sped up, the moment growing closer as you grinder on his hand. “Liar. You didn’t answer.”

“That’s not…ah…that’s not…oh my god…fuck…Miguel…” stars dotted your vision as he dragged your orgasm from you. Even his fingers did you better than your loyal little vibrator. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Pathetic. You didn’t even last long enough for another finger.” He condemned, pulling your hips close to his and unfurling himself. Miguel let the heavy warm rod rub against you, dragging the tip along the length of your pussy. You bit your lip, finger nails dragging along his stomach to the root of his member. You watched as he teased it, hissing as the sensitive head went in and out of your weeping centre. The feeling making you tremble.

“Look at that,” he mumbled, watching your essence coat him. “This pussy missed me, huh?”

Flickering between want and rage, you spat at him but screamed a moment after when he filled you to hilt. “Jesus!”

“So fucking arrogant.” He snapped, hand winding itself in your hair. “You’re going to pay for that.”

You couldn’t even speak. The bed rocked as he fucked his thick cock into you, spreading and burning through you with quick, deep thrusts. Miguel’s teeth grazed your neck as he pulled your hair back, teeth in your skin. When they broke the barrier, you cried out, muffled by your own sobbing from his pace.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Taking my cock so good. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Your nails scraped at his skin, filling beneath them with dirt and blood. You tried to hold onto something for sanity. Clenching round him, a jolt of pleasure went through you as he groaned in your ear. Miguel kissed you, tasting his blood in your mouth and you tasted his anger. Good, you thought, he should feel half as angry as you had.

The bed creaked and slammed into the wall with a steady tattoo. It created a song, creak, slam, creak, slam. Your hands went down his back, gripping the firm cushion of his buttock as he fucked into you. His fingers went between the tight space of your bodies to your clit and began to rub the swollen organ.

Between the passage of his thickness going deep and harsh into you, and his steady rub that began to build, you were powerless. Eyes burning of tears, you wept to your second orgasm.

“You look pretty when you cry in my cock. Look at that little face, crying like a good dirty whore.” He spat but his face was kind in the dark as he kissed your tears, licking the salt clean. Miguel’s hips began to move again, making you cry some more in subtle pain. This seemed to egg him on more. “I’m going to fuck you broken.”

masterlist

#yandere! miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #black!reader #spiderman #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman astv #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #mdni #miguel o'hara imagine

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avastrasposts · 1 month

Text

Big Sky Country - ch. 1

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC

Hi!

I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)

And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!

Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.

Series Master List

Main Master list

Prologue

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed.

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks.

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in.

He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears.

He dropped his hand.

Waited.

Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home.

He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again.

But she was here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here.

Chapter One

A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap.

“You growing roots, old man?”

The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger.

The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar.

“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes.

“You coming or going, cowboy?”

“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist.

“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.”

“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face.

“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him.

“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.”

He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass, and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin, she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he couldn't help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him, checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb.

“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.”

“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses.

Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat.

“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.”

“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who stepped in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble.

This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends.

As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seemed to carry more of a burden than most.

“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass.

“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek.

“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over his face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She was temporarily mesmerized by how they bounced back around his ears as he squashed the cap back down.

“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head.

“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return.

“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.”

“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.”

“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.”

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.”

She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.”

“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information.

“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her.

“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again.

“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head.

“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.” She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down.

Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke, the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.

She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him.

“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it.

“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?”

“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans.

She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile.

“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?”

Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter.

“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?”

“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.”

“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed.

“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”

“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet.

“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.”

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged.

“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.”

“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head.

“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.”

Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.

“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him.

“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.”

“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.”

“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.”

He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private.

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic.

When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon.

The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here.

Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy.

But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more.

Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it.

He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city.

Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet.

Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence.

After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else.

And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected.

“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.”

The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child.

Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child.

“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.”

Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it.

“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.”

She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped.

Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer.

Chapter 2

A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!

❤

Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier

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the-cannibal · 1 year

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Slashers with a s/o who has weird cravings for inedible things

Have you ever looked at tide pods, erasers, basically anything with a big DO NOT EAT CONTACT POISON CONTROL IF INGESTED sticker on them? Me too! So here’s a funny little thing for that!

Ps: please don’t actually eat any of the things in this- there are alternative things that you can actually eat that are similar to these things!

Gender neutral reader - they/them and you is used

Slashers included: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Vorehees, Michael Myers, Brahms Heelshire, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Vincent Sinclair:

“Vinny Vinny Vinny!”

“???”

“Can I eat some of that wax?” You pointed off to the scraps on the table by the art piece he was currently working on.

“?!?!?!” Cue frantic signing - ‘Y/n no- you can’t eat that, it will make you sick! Why would you even want to in the first place?’

You shrugged. “I dunno. It just looks warm and tasty!”

Vincent will now make sure to keep an eye on you anytime you are around wax.

But one day your curiosity won, and he caught you mid lick on one of his sculptures.

Yeah he was all mother hen on you for a while.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo was in his garage (surprise surprise) working on a car. You decided to tag along.

“Hey Bo, can I drink some of that?”

“Sure darlin.” Bo had said without looking up. He has just assumed you were talking about the glass of ice tea he has sitting next to him.

It wasn’t until her heard you spitting up something into the dirt that he actually looked up and saw the bottle of oil in your hand…

“Y/n what the fuck?!” He shouted at you. He was angry sure but he was mostly concerned and didn’t want you to fucking poison yourself, so he stuck two fingers down your throat and forced you to puke.

“Why would you do that?!”

“It looked like root beer!” You shouted between coughs.

“God you’re almost as bad as Lester…”

Jason Vorhees:

Oh if you think this man will even let you get anything inedible anywhere near your mouth you are wrong.

Jason has had to swat out jelly erasers out of your hand while you were working on a drawing because the fake pink strawberry inside it was just too tempting for you. You now only get to use boring white erasers… which you were banned from for a while when you thought they looked like marshmallows.

“Hey Jason, what do you think tidepods taste like?” You are no longer aloud to do laundry by yourself.

But he would help make snacks for you that have said texture of whatever thing you want. Wanna eat sand? Here’s some granola he’s made and crushed up to look and feel like it!

Michael Myers:

You’ve probably eaten a lot of stuff you shouldn’t have- dude isn’t the most observant at first.

But the second he does catch you, he’s watching you like a hawk.

He about yelled at you when he saw you munching on one of his (thankfully clean) jump suits. But he didn’t and instead took it away from you, lightly tapping you on your nose, scolding you like you were a teething puppy.

Actually that is what he saw you as when you’d do this-

He isn’t a cooker or a baker but if he finds anything edible that he thinks would satisfy your cravings then he will take it.

Brahms Heelshire

“New rule! Y/n is not aloud to eat anything without Brahms’ permission!”

“Brahms I don’t think that’s gonna work-“

“THEN STOP TRYING TO EAT THE PIANO KEYS!”

What? The Heelshire’s have a lot of old stuff! A lot of old tasty looking stuff… like the piano and Brahms’ records.

Brahms sometimes feels like a nanny for you when it comes to food. He now sits on the counter and watches you like a bird hunting it’s prey to make sure you aren’t sneaking anything in your mouth you shouldn’t. Don’t worry Brahms! They’d never do that!… would you..?

Billy and Stu:

Stu does the same thing as you.

Billy feels like he needs to keep you both on those little backpacks with those leashes that keep kids from running into traffic.

He has put you two in them before… he calls it ‘dumb snacking jail’

You make a comment about how Billy would know all about being in a jail.

That earned you more time in dumb snacking jail-

“They aren’t hurting anyone!” Stu shouted

“Stu they are trying to eat rocks…”

“It’s not hurting anyone!”

“ITS HURTING THEM-?!”

#bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #house of wax x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #michael myers #vincent sinclair x reader #billyloomis #stu macher x reader #stumacher #jason vorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #billy loomis x reader

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ramblers-lets-get-ramblin · 7 months

Text

This Charming Man- dark!Frankie Morales x OFC Camila

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Camila

Summary: Frankie’s wife kicks him out and files for divorce following a second trip to retrieve their money. He feels lost and hopeless until he meets someone new. He falls hard and fast for her. He’ll do anything to have her.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Warnings: alcohol and drug references, stalking, Frankie POV, unhinged Frankie, violence, Frankie is not a good guy here, birth control talk, emotional manipulation, unprotected PIV, oral sex f!receiving, creampie, Good Dad ™️ Frankie, implied character death, uhhhhh i hope i didn’t miss anything but let me know if I did and I will add it!

Word Count: 9.2k

Author’s Notes: If i had to categorize this, it would be dark fluff. Frankie is not a good guy but you still kinda wanna root for him. This fic (like many of my fics) would not exist if not for the love of my life, Gin @wannab-urs letting me scream at her for weeks about it. @beskarandblasters also gave this a once over for me! I’m so lucky to have friends like them!

exitus acta probat- the outcome justifies the deed

Frankie is spending his Friday night much like he had nearly every Friday night for the past year, in a dingy high school gym, supporting his brother in arms. Benny is determined to make a name for himself in the MMA circle. Even after they returned from retrieving their money from that ravine in The Andes Mountains, he was still here, getting pounded into the mats week after week. It’s his way of coping with all the shit that went down in that jungle. Will threw himself into his work with veterans, Pope threw himself into the bed of any woman that would have him, but never the same one twice. Benny gets his face bashed in every weekend and lets the ring girls comfort him afterwards. As for Frankie, when he came home from that second trip to South America, all his shit was on the lawn and the locks had been changed. He crashed on Benny’s couch for a few weeks seeking comfort in the bottom of a bottle and those little baggies. Then he bought himself a house, nothing flashy, just a simple home with enough space for the kids, if she ever lets them come visit.

Frankie had been on a few dates, mostly with friends of whoever Pope or Benny was banging. He’d taken a couple of them home, showed them a good time, and then promptly asked them to leave. Unlike the guys, the solution to Frankie’s problems wasn’t a mouthful of pussy. To be completely honest, all Frankie wanted was to feel something, anything, again. Redfly’s death hit him the hardest, he blamed himself for everything that went down in that little village. All those deaths, including Tom’s, are on him. He was too quick on the trigger and people lost their lives. Their friend, their leader, lost his life. Tom’s kids lost their dad. Sometimes he couldn’t stand to face his brothers, knowing what his actions cost them all. Sure, the money was nice, but it didn’t come close to making up for what they lost, what Frankie took from them. He’s missed the last two Fridays, so he dragged his sorry ass off his couch, showered and came out to cheer Benny on.

Benny’s been seeing one of the ring girls for a few weeks and keeps trying to set Frankie up with her friend. He’d been able to hold him at bay so far, but he has a feeling his luck has run out. He’s tried to tell them he isn’t interested in hookup or a fling. He steps into the gym just as the lights go down. The ring is lit up with spotlights and he quickly finds Pope and Will right in the front. He slides into the seat they saved for him and accepts the beer Pope holds out to him. It tastes like warm piss but that doesn’t stop him from gulping it down. Benny’s fight is the headliner so he’s going last. Frankie doesn’t give a shit about MMA so he lets his eyes wander the crowd. He makes eye contact with a woman across the gym from him. She gives him a sweet smile, but she doesn’t look away. She holds his gaze, mirroring his intensity. He feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs. This is what he’s been looking for. He feels like a spark has been ignited inside his chest, radiating electricity throughout his body. She finally looks away, but not before giving him a sly smirk. She shoots up from her seat when the fight ends, and Frankie does the same.

“Where ya goin’, Fish?” Pope asks.

“Bathroom.” He replies, not even looking at his friend. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of her for a second. He half jogs through the door she exited, just in time to see her slip into the women’s room. He almost follows her in until a woman’s voice catches his attention.

“Oh this is the women’s restroom.” She offers politely. Frankie puts on his best smile and turns to her.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. Forgot my glasses at home.” The elderly woman pats his shoulder and moves past him to open the door.

Frankie waits for what feels like an eternity for her to come out, ears perking every time the door squeaks open. He jumps when a hand claps down on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, man? Benny’s fight is about to start.” Pope asks.

“Just needed some air.” Frankie offers. He tosses one more regretful look over his shoulder before he follows his friend back into the gym. He is determined to find her again after the match. He can’t let her get away. He has to at least talk to her. He spends the entirety of Benny’s fight imagining all the things he could do to her. How pretty she would look on her knees for him, with his cock halfway down her throat. What kind of sounds she’d make when he has his tongue buried inside of her. He has no idea who she is but he wants to do terrible, depraved things to her. Before he knows it, the lights are coming up and the guys are rising from their seats.

“C’mon, Fish. Let’s go find Benny.” The fight was over and Frankie didn’t even know who won. He stands from his seat and dutifully follows his friends. Hopefully, he’ll be able to figure out which way the fight went by the interactions between the other men. He’s too embarrassed to admit he’d been preoccupied fighting the half chub in jeans to pay attention to Benny’s fight.

They make their way over to the locker room and Benny swings the door open, a wide smile on his face. Sure, that face was sporting a split lip and a black eye, but that grin couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than victory. “Hey, Fish! Glad you were able to make it out this time. I was starting to think ya didn’t love me anymore.” Benny jokes while sling his arm around Frankie’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, man.” Frankie tells him, his eyes scanning the crown for the girl.

“Where are we going to celebrate?” Pope asks.

“Gotta check with my girl.” Benny replies and Frankie winces internally. If he didn’t want to be set up before, he definitely doesn’t now. He’s trying to think of an excuse to blow them off and go look for her. Since they were all rich now, he couldn’t really use work as a reason to not celebrate Benny’s big win.

“Here she comes.” Benny says excitedly. And there she was. The girl she had been sitting next to came to stand opposite Frankie, tucking herself in under Benny’s other arm. “Fish, meet Rochelle. Rochelle, this is Catfish.” Frankies sees her cock an eyebrow at hearing his name and stifle a giggle.

“Pleased to meet you, Catfish. And this is my friend Camila.” Frankie shakes Rochelle’s hand and turns to extend it towards Camila. She grasps his hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you.” She says sweetly. Every hair in his body stands on end when her skin makes contact with his.

“Alright!” Will says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s party.”

An hour later, Frankie finds himself alone with Camila. Pope had snuck off to the bathroom with the waitress, he isn’t nearly as slick as he thinks he is. Will had called it an early night already, and Benny was on the dance floor, grinding on Rochelle. He is surprised at how easily the conversation flows between them. Even more surprised when he discovers how much they have in common. He almost protests when she begins to gather her belongings. She has to drive and doesn’t want to drink too much.

“At least let me walk you to your car.” Frankie offers. She smiles and nods.

“I would like that.” She says. Frankie holds out his hand to help her down from the tall stool, she accepts but doesn’t drop it right away. He feels the same jolt of electricity in his body that he had before. He knows that there is something special about her. He walks her to her car and even opens the door for her after she unlocks it.

“Would you wanna have lunch with me sometime?” He asks, a little sheepishly. He hasn’t asked a woman out in years. He wonders if he even has any game still. Her eyes light up and she gives him a thousand watt smile.

“I’d love to, Catfish.” She says with a wink.

“Gimme your phone.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to her. She punches a few buttons and hands it back. Frankie looks down at the brand new contact and smiles. Camila ❤️. He closes her door for her and she offers him a small wave. He waves back and happily jogs to his truck at the other end of the parking lot, not even bothering to say goodnight to the guys.

He’s about to turn towards his house when he spots her car a few lengths ahead of him. He sees her turn signal indicating that she is going to turn right, the opposite way from Frankie’s house. A little detour won’t hurt , he thinks to himself. He turns where she did and can just make out her taillights making a left turn. He follows, once again, and sees her pull into a driveway. He slows down a bit as he passes and makes a right at the next stop sign. Then he makes another right. After a third, he finds himself passing by her house once more. The porch light is off now and there is only one light on inside the house. She must be readying herself for bed. The thought of her taking her clothes off, so close to where he sits at the end of her driveway, makes his cock ache inside his jeans. He grabs his phone from the cup holder and opens a new text thread. He just sends one word. “Catfish.” He’s putting his truck back into drive when his phone dings.

“Lunch tomorrow?” The text reads.

“Absolutely. You can choose the time and place.” He sends the message and thinks about going home to jerk off, but when the light inside her house turns off, he has an idea. So he just sits back and waits.

The next day, Frankie sits at his kitchen table, staring daggers into his phone, willing it to ring. He slaps it against his palm a few times while he paces the kitchen. As if that will produce the desired effect. He's so antsy that he actually drops his phone when it finally does ring. When he retrieves his phone from the kitchen floor the screen is lit up. Camila ❤️. He smiles when he answers.

"Hey there, I was just getting ready to head out the door." He says, trying not to let his excitement show.

"Hey, Frankie. I'm sorry but I don't think I will be able to make it to lunch." Camila says. She sounds disappointed. "I can't get my stupid car to start." He can hear the frustration in her voice.

"Well, that's okay. We can reschedule. Unless you want me to pick you up. I don't mind. Maybe I can even take a look at your car for you." He tells her in a soothing voice.

"That would be great! Thank you so much, Frankie." He smiles so big the corners of his mouth start to ache.

"Send me your address." He tells her, like he doesn't already know where she lives. But she can't know that he knows that. He hangs up and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. He pats his pockets to make sure he has his wallet, his phone and the starter relay he pulled from Camila's car last night, and heads out.

She slides into his truck with a comfortability Frankie isn’t expecting. Flashing him a dazzling smile and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much, Frankie. You really saved this date.” She says. Frankie shoots her a smile of his own and pulls his truck into drive. He takes her to his favorite burger place, figuring it was casual enough for a first date. They fall into comfortable conversation immediately. Trading stories from childhood and facts about themselves. Favorite movies, death row meals. They talk about her divorce and Frankie’s pending one. Frankie’s heart flutters inside his chest. He’s so glad that he didn’t blow off the fight last night. Camila is nothing like the other women he’s been set up with. She’s smart and funny. She has a sharp wit and she's already comfortable teasing him, giving him shit. She might be the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on.

Anyone who knows Frankie, knows that he isn't a man who half-asses anything. He gives everything he does all that he has. The army, flight school, his marriage. But that quality doesn't only apply to the positive aspects of his life. On more than one occasion his dedication, that borders on obsession, has come back to kick him in the ass. Like the time he tried cocaine. It developed into a full blown addiction in record time. And lost him all the things he loves. His career, his wife, his kids. He’s feeling that familiar tingle in his bones now as he listens to her talk about the things she loves. There is something so special about listening to someone talk about something that brings them true joy. The way their eyes light up and they talk all fast. He hasn’t done more than hold her hand for a few, brief moments and he already can’t get enough. He wants more. And he is planning on getting it.

After lunch, Frankie drives her back to her house. “Pop your hood.” He says, cocking his head in the direction of her car. She opens the car door, which Frankie had already noticed she doesn’t keep locked, and reaches under the steering wheel to pull the lever. The hood pops and Frankie unlatches it and pulls it up. He can feel her eyes lingering on where his biceps strain the fabric of his t-shirt. He may have worn one that fits him a little tight on purpose. He fiddles around with a few things under the hood and asks a few questions like when she last had it serviced and if it was making any noises.

“I…don’t know actually. My ex usually took care of all that kind of stuff for me.” She replies sheepishly. Frankie gives her a soft smile and says

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” He assures her. She returns his smile and walks around the car to peer over his shoulder. He shows her where a few key things are, and explains some common issues. “Doesn’t seem to be any of those things though.” He says. Her brow furrows and he places a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. Just gotta check a few more things.” He says. He feels her shoulders relax under his palm. “Do you think I could trouble you for a glass of water, sweetheart?” Frankie asks.

“Of course!” Camila replies and she digs her house keys out of her bag and makes her way to the front door. Once she’s in the house with the door shut, Frankie looks around to make sure nobody is watching and pulls the starter relay out of his pocket. He moves his body around the car so that his back is facing towards the house, blocking his hands, just in case. He opens the black box and reattaches the relay. He closes it just in time. Camila comes up behind him with her keys in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Frankie turns to face her.

“Looks like one of your relays was loose. Why don’t you try starting it up now?” She hands him the water and slides into the driver’s seat and crank the key. It starts right up, just like he knew it would. He knows it was sneaky, but the elation on her face when she hears the engine purring makes it all worth it. Even more so when she shuts the car off, gets out, and launches herself at Frankie. He wraps his free hand around her and settles his face into the crook of her neck.

“Thank you so much!” She squeals into his ear, and he isn’t sure he’s ever heard a sweeter sound. But he’s sure he can get her to make some. He’s a little taken aback when her lips find his. It takes him a second to register what’s actually happening, then he wastes no time slotting his lips between hers.

Frankie is feeling happier than he has in months on his drive home. Thinking about his date this weekend with Camila has his dick throbbing in his jeans. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, doesn’t want to scare her, but he can’t wait to see what she looks like squirming underneath him. What the inside of her thighs taste like. What her legs feel like locked around the back of his head. His phone ringing interrupts his daydreams and he rolls his eyes when he sees his almost ex wife’s name fill the screen. She never calls with good news, with anything positive. He answers and presses the button for speakerphone. “Hello?” He answers hesitantly, unwilling to let whatever this is going to be about sour his good mood.

“Francisco, I need some money.” She says unceremoniously.

“Hi, Vanessa. I’m doing well, thank you for asking.” He replies sarcastically. She huffs into the phone.

“Are you gonna bring me some money or not?” She asks, her voice drips with disdain. How had they gotten here? Frankie wonders. How had they fallen so far from what they used to be? Best friends turned high school sweethearts. They got married right out of high school. Frankie enlisted shortly after his eighteenth birthday and shipped out two days after they graduated. He received a letter from Vanessa a month into basic training letting him know that she was pregnant and a few weeks later, when he came home, they had a courthouse wedding. With each deployment, he could feel the cavern in their marriage grow wider. But way back when, when Diego had first been born, they were deliriously happy. Of course, Frankie knows that his drug use didn’t help matters, neither did losing his pilot’s license. But no matter what the breaking point had been, that rot had been festering under the skin for years. He just doesn’t understand why she hates him so much.

“How much do you need?” He resigns to just give her what she wants. She’s been known to not let him see the boys when she doesn’t get her way.

“A couple hundred at least, Francisco. Raising your kids isn’t cheap, ya know?” She snarks.

“Yeah I know. Since you haven’t had a job in years. How is the search coming, by the way?” He can practically feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “I'll be there in twenty.” He says and ends the call, not giving her a chance to respond. He keeps some cash at the house, but most of his money is in a bank in Belize. His lawyer is ready to make it all look legitimate the second his divorce is final. And that bitch won’t get another dime from him that isn’t court ordered.

Diego and Mateo run out the front door and down the porch steps when they hear Frankie’s truck pull up to the curb. “Papi!” They scream in unison before flinging themselves into their father’s arms. “I missed you, Papi.” They exclaim.

“I miss you more.” He tells them quietly, wrapping his big arms tightly around them both. He plants a kiss on each of their heads and straightens, but doesn’t let go of them. “Where’s your mama?” He asks them. They point to the house and head in.

“Papi’s here!” Mateo shouts when they cross the threshold. Vanessa appears from in the kitchen and Frankie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a brown paper bag. He tosses it to her and it falls to the floor before she can catch it.

“Real nice, Frank.” She says. He brushes past her to the stairs, where the boys have already disappeared. At 14 and 11 they know when to make themselves scarce. Frankie and Vanessa tried hard to keep their problems from the kids, but they knew. They always know. It’s impossible to miss the tension that fills the room when they are forced to be together.

“I’m going to spend some time with my kids.” He tells her. Not bothering to wait for a response. When he reaches the top of the stairs and turns toward Diego’s room, he can see her counting the money out of the corner of his eye. Greedy bitch , he thinks. But if keeping her happy was what he needed to do for his boys, he’d put up with it. For now. Once he has his money, he’ll go after her for full custody. If he can’t find anything to prove she’s unfit, he’ll make something up.

Diego has a movie queued up on his tv and the boys are sitting on his bed. “We chose ‘28 Days Later’.” He tells Frankie as he toes off his boots and squishes in between them. Two hours later, the boys are both asleep, each with their head on their father’s shoulder. Frankie wriggles out from under them, trying his best not to wake them up. He grabs his boots from the floor and tiptoes out of the room, shutting the light and the door behind him. Vanessa finds him sitting on the bottom step lacing up his boots.

“The money was for my lawyer.” She tells him.

“So I’m paying for you to take half my shit and keep the kids away from me?” He retorts.

“He said we should try mediation.” She replies.

“Tell him to call my lawyer. Next time you need money, call someone else.” He tells her and walks out the door, careful not to shut it too hard.

When he steps into the shower, his mind can’t help but to wander back to this afternoon. The way Camila wrapped her arms around his neck. The way her breasts pressed tightly up against his chest. The smell of rosemary in her hair, mixed with something else, maybe mint. His dick grows harder than he ever thought possible at the memory. He strokes himself with the sound of that squeal playing on repeat in his ears. He touches the tips of the fingers of his other hand to his mouth, where he can still feel the ghost of her lips on his. Now he knows exactly how soft they would feel wrapped around his cock. The thought has him spilling over his hand and onto the floor of the shower with a shudder and a moan. When he falls asleep that night, it's with Camila on his mind.

Frankie finds himself sitting in his truck at the end of Camila’s driveway again. They’ve spent three Friday nights in the high school gym, watching Benny kick ass. They all always end up at the same bar afterwards to celebrate. Frankie walks her to her car, just like he did that first night. The guys give him shit when he comes back into the bar. His cheeks are flushed pink and his lips kiss-swollen. They make whip noises at him. And kissy faces. Santi is the only one who doesn’t tease. He just claps Frankie on the shoulder and tells him that he’s happy for him. And the following night each week, they’ve gone out together. Three dates. Three perfect nights. Every second that he spends with her makes her that much more irresistible to him. He isn’t quite sure what’s happening to him. He’s never felt like this in his life. Maybe this is why his marriage didn’t work out. He never for a second felt for Vanessa what he’s feeling now, after just a few weeks. His divorce had been mediated, just waiting for the finalization. He got split custody of his boys.

All the pieces seem to be falling into place for him. He knows he’s going to see her tomorrow, but he can’t stay away. When they were at dinner tonight, she told him about a man at work who had been asking her out, despite letting him down gently more than once. Just the thought of it had Frankie’s blood boiling. Not just the thought of another man vying for her affection. More than that, he disrespected her boundaries, he disrespected her, won’t take no for an answer. Frankie can’t have that. He lets the anger bubble there, just under the surface, as he gets out of his truck. He slinks up the driveway and slips the blade from his pocket. He unfolds it and jams it into her tire. The air hisses out of the tire and Frankie’s mouth turns up into a satisfied smirk. She’d also told him about the footprints she found outside of her bedroom window. Frankie’s eyes filled with faux concern. He couldn’t let slip that he was the one who made them. She hadn’t answered her phone that night and he was concerned. He just wanted to make sure that she was okay. When he found her sleeping peacefully, alone, he went right back home. Turns out she hadn’t been feeling well and took some cold medicine and fell right to sleep. She texted him all about it the next morning. He brought her some soup and Gatorade but she made him leave it on the porch because she knows he can’t keep his lips to himself when they’re together and she didn’t want to get him sick.

Frankie knows it isn’t right. He doesn’t know why he does these things. He just knows that he can’t stop. Not until she’s his. She’s a little gun shy after her own divorce, and now the strange things that have been happening around her house. Every time someone calls her from a blocked number and doesn’t say anything, every time something goes wrong with her car, she calls Frankie. He places the burner phone in his gun safe in his closet, and rushes right over. He’s become the person she runs to, the person she feels safe with. The rush he feels when he wraps his arms around her, comforting her, is like nothing else, not even flying. He feels a pang of guilt as he drives back to his house for the night. Would she still feel safe with him if she knew the lengths he was going to just to be nearer to her? He was the one making her feel unsafe, just to be afforded the opportunity to comfort her, to soothe the wound he made. He makes sure his ringer is on before he places his phone on his nightstand. He wouldn’t want to miss the call he knows is coming in the morning.

The ringing wakes him from his sleep and he fumbles around until his hand lands on his phone. The photo he took of the two of them together, Camila’s head on his shoulder, fills the screen. He smiles, remembering how they spent the night sitting in the bed of his truck, looking up at the stars. “Hello?” He says, his voice thick with sleep. The sound of her crying clears his head, memories of the previous night’s activities come flooding back.

“Frankie! I need you” She cries.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks.

“My tire is flat.” She exclaims. Frankie holds the phone to his ear with one hand and scrubs the other over his face,

“It’s okay, baby. I can be there in ten.” He tells her. Knowing that she hasn’t been brought to tears by a flat tire. He rises from the bed and slips a black t-shirt over his head.

“Babe, someone cut it!” The anguish in her voice almost makes Frankie regret it. Almost . Hearing the pet name fall from her mouth makes him smile. Still in his gray joggers, he rushes towards the door and slips on his tattered New Balances.

“Keep the door locked. I’m on my way.” He tells her, slamming the front door behind him. He makes it to her place in seven minutes, daring to go over the posted 20 mph speed limit. He knows she isn’t in any danger, not really. But she doesn’t know that. Her fear, that is very real, and Frankie doesn’t want her to feel it for a moment longer than she has to.

When he arrives he attempts to open the door but the knob doesn’t turn. Good girl. He knocks gently on the door, to make sure he doesn’t scare any further. “Hey, baby. It’s me. Let me in.” Camila throws the door open and leaps into Frankie’s arms.

“Thank you for coming.” She says into his neck, where she has buried her face.

“Of course I came. I’ll always come.” He assures her, tightening his hold on her. “Why don’t you go pack a few things and come stay with me a couple nights?” He suggests. She looks up at him through her lashes.

“Are you sure?” I know you’re supposed to have the boys this weekend. Frankies heart wrenches at the sight of tears on her beautiful face.

“Course I’m sure. I’ve been telling them all about you and they’ve been bugging me to meet you.” He tells her as he brushes away a tear with his thumb. She leans up to give him a kiss and then heads to her bedroom to pack her things. “I’m just gonna run out and take a look at your car, okay?” She hums in response, already feeling much safer with Frankie in her home. He just smiles and heads outside, pretending to be entranced with her shredded tire. Camila comes out a few minutes later with her purse and a duffel bag in her hand. Frankie finishes his “inspection” and takes the bags from her while she locks the door.

“I checked all the windows and the back door. Twice.” She tells him as he helps her into her seat.

“Good. If you want we can change the locks.” He replies. Tears well up in her eyes again, but she nods in response.

“I’m just so thankful for you.” She tells him quietly. He kisses her forehead and closes the door.

On the way to Frankie’s house they stop and grab some pizzas for lunch. When they arrive, Vanessa is there already, waiting by her car at the curb. “Why don’t you go ahead and run inside?” He tells Camila. He hands her his keys and plants a kiss to her temple.

“Who the fuck is that, Frank?” Vanessa asks.

“According to the judge, that’s not any of your business anymore.” He tells her, with a smile on his face. He doesn’t need his boys seeing him be nasty to their mother. She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. Camila is struggling with figuring out which key goes in the door along with juggling her bags, so she overhears more of the conversation than she was meant to. “She’s my girlfriend, okay?” Camila’s lips turn up into a smile just as she slides the key into the lock. She enters the house and closes the door behind her.

“Is she the reason you decided to stop helping me out?” She asks. Frankie laughs and shifts the pizza boxes to his other hand.

“No. Our divorce, a divorce you fucking asked for, is the reason I stopped giving you money to get your nails done, your hair done, and whatever the fuck else you were spending my money on. Sure wasn’t on our kids.” The anger is starting to bubble up in his chest again. “You told me they needed new shoes and I gave you $400. Why did Diego ask me to take him shopping this weekend?” He asks. She opens her mouth to make an excuse and Frankie cuts her off. “Don’t worry about it. I already bought them both new shoes. Hope you enjoyed whatever you spent that money on. It’s the last fucking dime you’ll ever see from me.” He nods his head towards the car, where the boys are watching the scene unfold through the windows. “Let my kids out. They’ll see you next week.”

The mediator worked out an even split in custody. They spend a week with her, then a week with Frankie. Since he lives so close, the school district is the same. The added bonus is that he doesn’t have to pay her a penny. If looks could kill, Frankie would have dropped dead right on that conference room floor. He waves for the boys to get out of the car. They hop out and run to give their dad a hug. He hands the pizzas to Diego and tells them to run inside and wash their hands. “And be nice to Camila.” He calls over his shoulder.

Vanessa narrows her eyes at his last comment. “Don’t forget, Frank. We were married for a long time. I know all the skeletons in your closet. I know where all the bodies are buried.”

Frankie takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his hair. “What’s that supposed to mean? You threatening me?” She points a finger at him.

“I’m not threatening. I’m just saying. Molly has some questions about Tom’s death you boys seem unable to answer. I’m sure people would be interested in what you all really got up to down there in the jungle.” Frankie scoffs but she continues. “And you can lie all you want, but I know you went back for that money.” She opens the door to her car, “Don’t test me.” She warns before she gets in and speeds off. Frankie stands there for a moment, unable to believe that she was actually threatening him. He shakes his head and joins Camila and the boys inside.

While Frankie cooks dinner his sons interrogate Camila, The boys ask her question after question. Each answer leads to more questions. Frankie’s heart swells seeing the three of them get along so well. Diego and Mateo seem to genuinely want to get to know Camila. And she seems content to answer all of their questions. “Are you my dad’s girlfriend?” Mateo asks. She turns her head a little to catch Frankie’s eye, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He nods lightly and smiles at her. She returns his smile with one of her own and tells Mateo,

“Yes. Yes I am.” Mateo smiles brightly at her and then asks her if she wants to play Monopoly after dinner. The whole scene is so domestic . He tries to remember the last time he and Vanessa had a night like this with their kids. No drama, no arguing, just enjoying being a family. Frankie wishes it could always be like this. That Camila could be here every night when he gets home, that his sons could. And now she’s threatening him? He can’t have that. Not when everything is finally starting to come together. Not when he can finally envision a future for himself. So, he begins to formulate a plan.

“Spring break is in two weeks, right?” He asks Diego who nods, intent on winning. “Would you all like to go camping?” The boys' faces light up with glee. They love camping with their dad.

“Can Tio Santi come?” Diego asks.

“And Uncle Benny and Uncle Will?” Mateo adds.

“We can ask them.” He chuckles. “Do you want to come?” He asks Camila.

“I’d love to. By the way, you owe me rent.” She points at the game board. When the boys finally lose interest in Monopoly, Frankie sends them up to bed. They both give Camila a hug before starting up the stairs.

“Let me just shower and I’ll take the couch tonight.” Frankie offers. Camila rolls her eyes.

“Be serious, Frankie. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own house. I was hoping you might want me to sleep with you, seeing as I’m your girlfriend now.” She smirks. “But if you don’t want to, then I’m fine with the couch.” Frankie closes the distance between them.

“I’d love nothing more than to share my bed with you, baby. Maybe I’ll even show you why they call me ‘Catfish.’” He teases with a wink and begins kissing her neck while walking her backwards. Thankfully, the master bedroom is downstairs. He toes the door closed and leads her to his bed. She moves her hands to the hem of her shirt and starts pulling it up. Frankie reaches a hand out to stop her.

“Wait.” He says. She drops her hands and her gaze falls to the floor.

“Oh, sorry. If you don’t want to- I mean, we don’t have to.” She says quietly. Frankie hooks his fingers under her chin and gently lifts her head til her eyes meet his.

“Hey, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He tells her. She doesn’t say anything so he takes a deep breath and continues. “It’s just, this is our first time spending the night together. I just want you to feel comfortable. I never want you to feel pressured.” He rubs his hands up and down her arms and he can feel her relax under him. She lets out a deep breath and nods her head.

“I promise, Frankie, I want this. I’ve wanted to for a while, I just- I just wasn’t sure what this was, and after my divorce…” she trails off. Frankie saves her from having to continue by slotting his lips between hers. She returns his kiss hungrily. He places his hands on her shirt, where hers had been previously, and peels the fabric up. Her hands only leave his body to allow him to pull her shirt over her head. Something snaps between them and suddenly they are ripping each other’s clothes off, kissing each other ravenously in between tossing articles of clothing wherever they land. Frankie grabs Camila’s thighs, just under her ass, and lifts her in his arms. Instinctively she wraps her legs around his trim waist and gasps when she feels the hard length of him fill the space between their bodies. She grinds her naked core down the length of him, and a growl reverberates low in his throat. He tightens his grip on her and sits on the edge of the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and grips the curls at the nape of his neck. He moans into her mouth quietly and she swallows it down. She tugs even harder, eliciting a loud groan.

“Fuck, baby! Come here, I can’t wait any longer.” He says as he lays back on the bed. He grabs the meat of her thighs and urges her up toward his head. “I need to taste you, querida. Come sit on my face.” Camila doesn’t hesitate to acquiesce. She scoots up on her knees until she’s sitting on his chest. She’s been waiting for this just as long as Frankie has. She settles over his face and her body jolts with the first swipe of his broad tongue.

This is it for me, Frankie thinks with the first burst of her taste on his tongue. He’ll never do another line in his life if he gets to taste this pussy every day. She reaches down to grab his hair and he moans when she gives his curls a hard pull.

“Oh fuck, Frankie. Right there, baby.” She cries out. She begins grinding down on his face, taking what she needs from him. The action makes Frankie’s cock rock hard against the soft flesh of his stomach. His senses all feel heightened somehow, as if the taste of her pussy has lifted the fog that had settled over his life. Cleared the cobwebs from inside his brain. He tightens his grip on her thighs, pulls her down to his mouth further, not leaving any space, and begins to fuck her with his tongue. The noises she makes only spur him on, his nose grinds on her clit and her walls clench around his tongue. “Don’t stop, please, don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna come.” She pants out, barely audible. Frankie needs her to hurry up and come because he’s about to do the same. He’s not sure how much longer he can last. This is definitely not something he’s ever experienced. He’s about a minute away from coming, untouched, just from this. Suddenly, she stills over him, and the most beautiful sounds spill from her mouth, and her pussy gushes into his. Frankie can’t spare another second to even wait for her to come down from her orgasm. He grabs her tight and flips her onto the bed. Her legs fall open and he kneels between them.

“I, uh- I don’t have a condom.” He admits. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.” He assures her. She nods while pulling him closer.

“I haven’t been with anyone since my divorce and I have an IUD. I trust you, Frankie.” She says. He doesn’t wait any longer. He nudges the tip of his cock into her dripping entrance. She’s absolutely soaked from his saliva and her own arousal, but it’s still a tight fit. He stills over her, needing a moment to gather himself. He’s about to blow his load then and there, and that’s not exactly the impression he wants to make.

“Fuck, baby. Just give me a second. You’re so goddamn tight.” He screws his eyes tightly shut. Even looking at her is too much for him. He takes several deep breaths and Camila runs her hands across his shoulders and down his arms. When he finally feels composed enough to show her a good time, he slides all the way in. One smooth stroke and he suddenly knows what heaven feels like. The velvet heat of her walls mold to him, like she was made for him. He fills her up completely, like he was made for her. Frankie could die right now, a happy man. He knows that he’ll never need anything else, anyone else. He fucks into her at a brutal, punishing pace. Like his life depends on it, and in a way it does. He wants to ruin even the idea of another man for her. Wants to be all she can think about it, all she wants. When he finds the spot inside her that makes her cry out his name and claw at his back, he fucks her even more desperately. He can tell she’s close, the way she’s squeezing him. He grinds his pubic bone into hers, putting just the right amount of pressure on her throbbing clit, and she comes undone for him. She comes so hard that her muscles squeeze him out, and she cries for him to put it back in. The second he does, his own orgasm follows. He finds his release buried to the hilt in the wet warmth of her cunt, and he knows that he needs to find a way to keep her like this, under him, surrounding him, forever.

Camila spends the next few nights at Frankie’s house. He takes her to work in the morning after they drop the boys off at school. He picks her up in the evening and takes her back to his house where he cooks dinner for the four of them. Frankie doesn’t want it to ever end. But he knows it’s too soon to ask her to move in. They’ve only been seeing each other for a little over a month. He doesn’t want her to think he’s crazy. But what if she feels it too? This string that keeps them connected, tugs them closer together with each passing day. Maybe he just needs to give her a little motivation. Five days after her tire was slashed, Frankie picks Camila up from work in her own car. He took it to have the tire replaced while she was at work, as a surprise. He likes being the person she depends on, the person she can count on. He likes knowing that she’s gotten to work safely, that she made it home okay. But he knows how much she appreciates her freedom, having been married to an asshole who wanted to control every aspect of her life. Frankie didn’t want to control her. That wasn’t the reason for his actions. He just wanted her to have the chance to see how well he would take care of her. How good he could be to her. That he could keep her safe. She spends that night at his house as well. He makes a comment about how much he likes seeing her car next to his truck in the driveway. She smiles in response.

“You trying to hint at something, Catfish? ’ She teases. He just shrugs his shoulders, trying to play it cool. She doesn’t need to know that it takes every ounce of his self control to not drop to his knees right there and ask her to move him, to marry him, to spend her life with him. She returns to her own home for the weekend, to give Frankie some alone time with Diego and Mateo. He takes them to Academy to buy supplies for their upcoming camping trip. They are old enough now to have their own tent. Besides, Frankie has a few plans in mind for his tent.

The week leading up to their camping trip the boys are at their mom’s house. Frankie spends a few nights at Camila’s house, coming and going as he pleases since she gave him his own key. She feels better knowing that he’s there, keeping an eye on things. She’s told him her suspicions about who has been wreaking havoc at her home. She thinks the chances of it being her persistent coworker are slim. She is much more convinced that Charlie, her ex husband, must be behind it. She had changed the locks when he moved out, but had Frankie change them again after her tire was slashed. When he finished he handed her the extra keys and she handed one back to him. He cocked his eyebrow in confusion, she just closed his fingers around the key and said

“Just in case, you know? For emergencies.” He had felt such joy, and a strange sense of pride, every time he used it since then. Not that he would be needing it today. He had parked his truck a few streets away, tucked into a quiet alley. He was wearing a black hoodie and jeans paired with black hiking boots he had bought at Academy last weekend with his boys. As he slips over the fence into Camila’s backyard, he slides a black ski mask over his face and black nitrile gloves, two pairs, over his hands. He slinks across the yard, well hidden by the privacy fence. When he arrives at the sliding glass door he gives it two swift kicks near the door handle. The glass shatters with the first kick, the second provides a nice hole to stick his arm through. He’s careful not to nick himself on the glass, he can’t have any evidence of his involvement lying around. He had sent Camila a text before he left his house, letting her know that he was going to grab lunch with Benny this afternoon. He had left his phone at home, just in case anyone ever checks his location services. As soon as he finishes up here, he’ll be meeting Benny at their favorite barbecue spot. With his alibi intact, Frankie goes about trashing Camila’s house. He’s chosen his targets carefully. The table next to the door where she keeps her mail and other semi-important papers. The drawers of her dresser, where he tosses her clothes around the room. The drawers of her nightstand. The box in her closet that has some sentimental items in it. He finds the divorce decree and rips the documents in half, leaving them on her bed. Every single move he makes is setting up Charlie to take the fall for this. Frankie might actually feel bad for how good of a job he’s doing if Charlie wasn’t such a piece of shit.

Once he’s finished, he sneaks back out of the sliding glass door, across the yard and over the fence. He takes the hoodie and ski mask off, balling them up and tossing them in a trash can in the alley. The gloves and boots find their way into separate trash cans as well. He drives the speed limit on his way home, not willing to risk a ticket this time. He runs inside to grab his phone and then heads off to enjoy a nice lunch with his friend. They hammer out a few details about their camping trip that’s in a few days and part ways. Just as Frankie is about to turn onto his street, his phone rings. He can barely understand Camila through the tears, but that’s okay, he doesn’t need to. He pulls into the closest driveway and turns around, heading back in her direction. When he pulls to a stop at the curb, the police are already there. He catches her eye when he steps onto the lawn and she excuses herself from the officer she is speaking to and runs to him.

“Baby! What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Frankie asks, holding her at arm’s length to look her body up and down.

“I’m fine, babe, I swear.” She promises. Her eyes still shine with tears and the whites of them are bloodshot.

“What happened, querida ?” She sniffles a little and buries her face in his chest. He can tell she is trying not to fall apart, and he wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. Maybe he took it too far, this time.

“Someone broke into my house and trashed it.” She explains. “The police think it was Charlie. Damn it! We just changed the locks.” She looks up at Frankie and takes a deep breath.

“Do you think we can change them again?” He rubs his hand up and down her back, comforting her.

“Of course we can, baby. I’ll go to Home Depot right now.” Camila shakes her head at that.

“No, it's fine. I’ll just stay the weekend with you since we are leaving to go camping Sunday morning. We can just do it when we get back.”

That night, in bed, Camila is laying with her head on Frankie’s chest and her leg thrown over both of his. “What if I don’t change your locks?” He asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” She asks while absently drawing with her fingers on his bare chest.

“What if you just moved in with me, instead” her fingers stop for a moment, then resume their trailing.

“Okay.” She says, taking Frankie by surprise.

“Really?” She looks up at him and furrows her brow.

“Unless you aren’t sure.” She says. He grabs her chin gently and tilts her head until she can see his face.

“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. I just thought I’d have to do a little more convincing.” He tells her. The earnestness in his face makes her heart melt.

“I don’t feel safe at my house anymore. But I always feel safe with you. I think- Frankie, I think I love you.” Tears sting his eyes then because he’s known for weeks that he loves her, he was just waiting, til he was sure she felt the same, to let her know.

“I love you, too, baby.” He says. Then he leans down and seals his proclamation with a kiss. They spend all of Saturday making sure everything they need for their trip is packed and stuffed into the bed of Frankie’s truck. They order some Chinese for dinner and continue watching Narcos. After Camila falls asleep on the couch, Frankie sneaks out of the front door and walks the three blocks to Vanessa’s house. Twenty minutes later, he’s back in his own house, waking Camila up and taking her to bed. If anyone were to ever ask, she’d say Frankie was home with her all night.

They leave the house early the next morning to go pick up the boys. Vanessa had offered to drop them off, but Frankie had insisted. They’d have to pass by her house anyways, and Frankie didn’t want her driving the boys in her car, not today. Camila stays in the truck while Frankie knocks on the door. Vanessa answers the door and rolls her eyes when she sees Camila.

“You didn’t tell me she was going.” She snips. Frankie just shrugs his shoulders in reply.

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Vanessa. You should get used to seeing her around, anyways. We’re moving in together when this trip is over." She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head.

“I can’t believe you Frank. We just got divorced.” Frankie laughs.

“Yeah after you kicked me out, over a year ago.” She huffs at him, clearly pouting.

“Don’t forget about all the things I know, Francisco.” She warns one last time before the boys are bounding down the stairs and out the door.

“See ya around, Vanessa.” He tells her, closing the door behind him. The campground is a three hour drive. Camila commands the radio and Diego has the directions pulled up on his phone. Mateo chatters away, in that way that little kids always do, about nothing in particular. When they arrive they find Santi, Will and Benny already there. They’ve already got their own tents put up and a fire going. The boys run to hug their uncles while Camila and Frankie unload the truck. Santi takes the boys to go fishing with Benny, while Will helps Frankie put up their own tents. They eat fresh caught fish for dinner and the adults drink too many beers. They all wake up late in the morning the next day and when Frankie checks his phone he sees multiple missed calls. The signal isn’t great this far out, so he isn’t surprised that he missed them. Several are from Vanessa’s sister. A few from her mother. Since none of them are from Vanessa herself, Frankie can guess what this is about. He tries to return the calls but none of them will connect. He shoves the phone back into his pocket and smiles. Seems like his plan worked. Nobody will be threatening him or his brothers anymore. He thinks, in time, his boys will come to love Camila as their mother. He finally has everything he wants, exactly where he wants it.

I no longer have a taglist! Please follow @ramble-on-fics and turn on post notifications for updates!

#frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier au #triple frontier #dark fluff #dark!triple frontier #dark!frankie morales

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palmtreesx3 · 10 months

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Season 1 Steve smells like chlorine and a twinge of cigarettes. He smells like a fresh shower after practice, spearmint gum and just-done laundry. He smells like light dusting of aerosol from his hairspray. He smells like just a touch of Ralph Lauren Polo - all bergamot and cedar and mossy - because his dad bought it for him and told him real men where cologne. He smells like hints of leather, because Harrington's only wear the real stuff. Tucking your nose into his neck smells like a boy trying to be a man, it smells safe and comfortable but a little daring. A little boy next door, but a little trouble all at once.

Season 2 Steve smells like a bit of leather and musk following him around after gym or basketball practice. There's the lingering soft and delicate floral notes of Nancy Wheelers perfume., but that's all quickly overpowered by the nutty, honey scent of his shampoo. He still smells like laundry, clean and crisp. Like fresh air and a fall breeze and a boy who likes to sit outside and think about what comes next. He smells like apple cider and nutmeg and a bonfire before the homecoming football game. He smells woodsy and grassy from his climb up the tall oak tree to get through your window and he smells like pencil shavings and the textbooks he's carrying around trying too hard too late to make something of himself.

Season 3 Steve smells like sweet vanilla bean and with undertones of disinfectant from scrubbing the dishes at Scoops at the end of his shift. It's all cherry chapstick on his lips, making things sweet. He smells like fruity popsicles and there's a buttery scent of popcorn on his jacket that he just can't shake from all his dates at the movie theater. He smells like root beer floats and fresh cut grass and the wildflowers he tucks behind your ears by the lake. He smells a bit like what you would expect sunshine feels like, on a warm summer day by the pool and when he leans in close, you just know he'll taste like butterscotch if you kiss because you already smell it on his tongue.

Season 4 Steve Smells like cherry rope candy and that Family Video vest permanently smelling of Calvin Klein Obsession for Men, all lavender and a little spice. He carries around the faintest smell of crisp apples and peach and maybe a little patchouli - Robin's perfume and shampoo clinging to him from their morning car rides and counteracting the waxy smell of 100 rewound VHS tapes. He smells warm, like a flickering fall fire might feel, and a bit like the coffee he's taken up drinking between dropping Robin off at school and the start of his shift. He smells less put together than before, but more natural, like the cedarwood candle he burns in the living room when you come over and he tries to impress you and the fresh linen smell of his sheets.

#steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington thoughts

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lulublack90 · 1 month

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Prompt 18 Neighbour AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 18, word count 991

Remus Lupin had one asset, and that was his parent’s house. It was in the middle of the Welsh countryside. It was a mile walk to the little village, and the only thing it had going for it was the barn. It was light and airy and smelled of wood.

Remus had spent a lot of time and effort converting it into a liveable space. The idea had been to sell it, but no one was interested in living so far away from the major cities. So, under the advice of his estate agent, he rented it out for short holidays.

So far, it had been quite lucrative. With the money he made from that and his own job, he could afford chocolate whenever he wanted.

The holiday season was coming, and he already had two weeks booked out. He tended to get a lot of city dwellers looking to get away from it all or families trying to get back to their roots.

He checked his emails one morning with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of crumpets. HE filtered out the junk and found an inquiry email in his barn folder. He opened it.

A man was looking to hire the barn for the full summer and all of September as well. He was looking at three months of solid booking. It was a shame he couldn’t offer it, having already booked those two weeks. And he refused to let down his other guests. He typed a reply stating as much. He got a reply back almost instantly, asking if there was somewhere he could pitch a small tent. Mr Black said he would gladly still pay full price while his other guests used the barn. Remus couldn’t believe what he was reading. It seemed too good to be true. He sent a couple of pictures of his personal garden. The views weren’t as good, but it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind, and he could use Remus’s garden furniture. Again, the reply was quick. The man agreed and said he hoped he wouldn’t be any bother.

Remus sent an invoice and got Mr Black to confirm he agreed to the price, and with the confirmation, he booked out the three months. He sat back with a pleased look on his face as he finished his crumpets. He just hoped that Mr Black would be a good neighbour as it was a long time to deal with a terrible guest.

July arrived, and with it, a sleek black motorbike and an equally sleek owner. Sirius, as he demanded to be called, settled in instantly. He played his music a little loudly, but as it was to Remus’s taste, he decided to enjoy it.

Remus found he quite enjoyed Sirius’s company, and they spent nearly every night in Remus’s garden drinking beers. Remus had even started making enough dinner for Sirius, though Sirius had told him he didn’t expect it but did appreciate it as he was useless at cooking.

It turned out that Sirius needed a break from his high-pressure job, which was why he’d come to Remus’s.

“I hate it. It’s been my life since my mother found out she was pregnant with me. They own the company now, but my brother and I run it. He’s so much better at it than I am, and I swear he’d have such an easier time at it if I quit.” Sirius had admitted to him one August afternoon.

“Then why don’t you quit?” Remus asked as though it were an obvious solution.

“Everything I own is tied up in the company. If I leave, I lose everything.” He shrugged. “My parents made sure it was that way after I went through a rebellious streak in my teenage years.”

“That’s terrible, Sirius. I wish I could help.” And Remus found he meant it.

“Don’t fret about it. I’ll muddle through.” Sirius beamed at him as he patted Remus’s leg. “Right, enough feeling sorry for myself. I’m off for a walk. Care to join me?” Remus couldn’t think of any reason not to, so he took the proffered hand, and they strolled towards the village.

Remus showed Sirius some of his favourite childhood haunts just off the beaten track, and they spent a wonderful afternoon in the thick foliage.

Soon, the first week came around when Sirius would have to sleep in his tent. And, of course, the worst storm to hit Wales in over a hundred years decided to arrive that night.

The trees were whipping back and forth, creaking and groaning. The fence surrounding Remus’s garden swayed dangerously. Remus refused to let Sirius stay out in this. He flung open the back door and yelled into the downpour.

“Sirius! Sirius!” A face popped out of the zippered entrance of the tent. “Get in here!” Sirius shook his head.

“I’m all good. Don’t fret.”

Lightning cut across the sky, lighting the dark ground with its answering thunder not far behind.

“Sirius, please! I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here!”

Suddenly, Sirius was streaking across the lawn and ran straight into Remus’s arms, knocking the lanky man back a few steps. Lighting flashed across the sky again and then another and another. The last bolt hit the cherry blossom tree in Remus’s garden, and a huge branch fell off and crushed the tent Sirius had been in moments before.

“Yeah, probably a good call that Remus,” He joked. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Remus decided, not that he had much choice, that Sirius would be staying in his spare bedroom for the remainder of the two weeks. Maybe longer if the look Sirius was giving him meant what Remus thought it did. That night, they sat, snuggled up together on Remus’s tiny sofa in front of a roaring fire, sipping mugs of hot chocolate and listening to the storm wailing around them.

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withacapitalp · 1 year

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Root Beer

Happy birthday @stevesbipanic !!! I had an idea for this so long ago, but then your birthday gave me the perfect excuse to write it. I'm so honored we are friends, I am still so shocked about it (Flashback to my OG post about Tumblr royalty liking one of my posts) and I cannot wait to get to spend even more time with you <333

“Remind me again why you always pay for Erica’s ice cream?” Eddie wondered as Steve dug into his wallet and forked over the dollar eighty five required for Erica’s scoop of cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles.

“It’s reparations for child endangerment,” Erica replied immediately, sticking her tongue out briefly as Steve rolled his eyes.

Eddie automatically stuck his tongue out right back at her, making her laugh as she skipped off to the other side of the counter and waited for her treat. The kids had asked for a ride to the ice cream shop, but in a rare display of discipline, Steve had refused to pay for any of them except Erica, and, shockingly, no one had complained. They had all pooled their money, ordered three sundaes to split, and were now sitting in the corner digging into their treats.

“I’ll tell you about it some other time,” Steve promised, keeping his wallet open as he turned towards his boyfriend, “Are you gonna get anything?”

“Still deciding,” Eddie said, bouncing on his heels.

The shop was no Scoops Ahoy, but it did have a wide array of different options, all with wonderful punny names. He was currently between getting a ‘Bloody Sundae’, which was a vanilla scoop with cherry syrup and chocolate sprinkles, or a ‘Mint to be’, which was mint chocolate chip with whipped cream and bright green sprinkles.

Maybe he could get both if he gave Steve the right amount of puppy eyes. That usually worked for other things. Dates, getting to pick the movie they watched at night…..other….things.

Eddie was still thinking through his strategy as Steve stepped up to order.

“Can I get a large root beer float with soft serve twist and a cone on the side?” Steve asked, using his customer service voice with a charming smile, making the girl behind the counter twitter and twirl her hair as she rang him up and walked off to make his float.

Eddie blinked a few times trying to register what Steve had just said, before groaning loudly and pulling a disgusted face.

“What?” Steve wondered, bewildered by Eddie’s vehement reaction.

“Root beer,” Eddie said with a grimace, waggling his tongue.

“What’s wrong with root beer?”

“It’s so…sweet,” Eddie finally got out, trying and failing to find the exact words to explain his complete disdain for root beer. He had given root beer a real try, multiple attempts and everything, but every time he had spat it out, unable to enjoy the taste.

“Eddie, I have seen you eat a frosting sandwich,” Steve said in a complete deadpan, giving Eddie a raised brow look, “Just frosting and white bread,”

“Don’t judge my trailer park cuisine, rich boy!” Eddie cried in an overdramatic tone, clutching his chest and shaking his head with his eyes shut tight, “I’m not the one having nasty icky sarsaparilla nonsense, making future kisses completely impossible until you have purged yourself of the disgusting concoction.”

Steve burst into bright loud laughter, lighting up the entire store like he was the goddamn sun. Eddie paused in his diatribe, watching Steve with lovesick eyes as he giggled uncontrollably.

“Sarsaparilla concoction,” Steve huffed out, continuing to chuckle, “God, I love you, you big dork.”

Oh.

Both of them paused, staring at each other with wide eyes as they took in what Steve had just let slip out.

It wasn’t like they didn’t both know. They had been dating for three months, crushing on each other for two before that, and every minute had been pure bliss. There was no doubt that Steve was the love of his life, and Eddie had been pretty sure Steve felt the same.

Now he knew for a fact, and that was a lot to take in standing in the middle of a subpar ice cream shop.

“I- um- I,” Steve stopped trying to stutter, giving Eddie a nervous little look, letting his eyes drop to his shoes as he shuffled in place. Eddie’s surprise faded into unbearably warm affection. He reached over and quickly squeezed Steve’s hand, knowing he wasn’t able to do more in public, but wishing he could kiss Steve until they were both drunk and delirious on their love.

“I’ll have a black raspberry shake with chocolate sprinkles, whipped cream, and hot fudge,” Eddie called out as the cashier walked back over with Steve’s float, delivering it with a flirty little smile. Steve didn't even look at her as he took his ice cream, and she rang them up lightning fast, clearly jilted by his non-response. Eddie couldn't care less, dragging Steve over to their tables and waiting for his order to be called.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly as they sat down, the words being overshadowed by the sound of their kids happily screaming at each other. He looked around and risked a quick kiss on the cheek, getting Steve buttered up and happy before he finished his sentence.

“Even if your taste is trash,”

#Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #st #st 4 #stranger things 4 #erica sinclair #Steve and erica #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #st drabble #st4 #Happy birthday B

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sassenach77yle · 10 days

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Happy World Bee Day - 20 May

World Bee Day is observed on 20 May each year to draw attention to the essential role bees and other pollinators play in keeping people and the planet healthy.

🐝🐝Chapter 81~ Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone🐝🐝

"I found two of them, curled up together in the cup of a hollyhock, covered in pollen and holding each other’s feet.” “Were they dead?” “No.” He’d moved off me but was still imminent. His hair was loose, soft and tumbled, sparking red and silver in the firelight, and I brushed it behind his ear. “I thought they were, the first time I saw it, but I’ve seen it several times since, and they’re just sleeping in the flowers. They wake up when the sun warms them and fly off. “I don’t know whether it’s something like camping out for them, or whether they just get too tired to make their way back to the hive or are caught out by the dark and lie down where they can,” I added. “You mostly see single bees doing it, though. Seeing two of them together like that … it was very sweet.” “Sweet,” he echoed, and threading his fingers through mine kissed me gently, tasting of smoke and beer and bread with honey. “Do you know why they’re called hollyhocks?” “No, but I suppose ye’re going to tell me.” One big hand ran down the side of my neck and delicately grasped my nipple. I returned the favor, enjoying the rough feel of the hairs around his. “The Crusaders brought it back to England, because you can make a salve of its root that’s particularly good for an injury to a horse’s hocks. Apparently crusading is hard on the hocks.” “Mmm … I wouldna doubt it.” “So,” I whispered, flicking my thumbnail lightly, “‘Holly’ is an old spelling of ‘Holy’—for the ‘Holy Land’?” “Mmphm …” “And ‘hock’—well, for ‘hocks.’ What do you think of that?” A subterranean quiver rippled through his body, and he lay down on top of me and eased both hands under my hips. His breath tickled warmly in my ear. “I think I should like to sleep in a flower wi’ you, Sassenach, holding your feet.”

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #outlander starz #outlander series #jamie fraser #outlander fanart #samheughan #jamie&claire #jamie and claire #outlander books #outlander book #outlander season 8 #bees #diana gabaldon

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bloompompom · 1 year

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Birthday Boy

because i obviously had to write up something for eren's birthday

♡ content: eren jaeger x female reader. one shot. modern au, porn without plot, casual sex, friends to lovers, mutual pining, praise, eren's a lil needy, oral (m!receiving), light choking, skirt riding, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. ♡ word count: ~2.3k

Despite what you planned on telling your friends later, you considered yourself to be the reason Eren had such a great birthday and not the cake Mikasa made for him. Even if you did catch him stealing a taste before he should have.

“Mikasa’s going to kill you,” you laughed when you caught Eren red-handed in the kitchen.

He already had a messy slice on a plate, smiling at you as he licked the frosting off his finger. You tried to remember why you came into the kitchen in the first place, then headed for the refrigerator.

“No one will notice if a corner is missing,” Eren excused.

They most certainly will, you thought with a snicker.

You swung the refrigerator door open, and Eren disappeared behind it. You grabbed a beer, closed the door, and—voilà!—he reappeared, still smiling just as big when he said, “Besides—my birthday, my cake.”

You made a face at him but laughed along anyway. You stayed there for a second, lazy about returning to the party for whatever reason. Sure, you could blame it on the beer, even as you cracked a new one open to take a sip, but you weren’t dumb.

It was just the two of you in there. Even if the lights were off—hell, even if you were blind—you would have known it was just the two of you in there. It was one of those things you could feel. Warm and pooling in the low part of your stomach. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt this way around Eren. And yes, he had done this to you before. Though it had been a while, it still felt familiar and rooted deep.

You wondered if he was doing this on purpose, what with the way he was eyeing you, until he asked, “Do you want a bite?”

That answered that, you supposed.

You said yes by setting down your beer. It looked like Eren was about to feed it to you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of it. You stole the fork from him and held his gaze as you slowly took a bite. He tried to hide his twitchy smile—barely at the corner of his mouth—but you spot it just in time.

It was chocolate cake. Chocolate cake, vanilla frosting, and fresh strawberries. You tasted each ingredient in just one mouthful. All the flavors you helped Mikasa pick out at the grocery store last night.

You swallowed and covered your chocolatey smile with a hand. “It’s good.”

Eren took another bite, somehow looking satisfactory about it, and you now knew how he’d taste if you kissed him.

You were still thinking about it when you neared him in a stride and teased, “This definitely cancels out your birthday wish. You know, since you didn’t wait to blow out the candles.”

“Fine by me,” he said as he set the plate on the counter. You were close enough that he had to tuck his chin to look at you. “I think I just might be lucky enough to get what I’d wish for anyway.”

Yes, Eren was, without a doubt, doing this on purpose.

How was he supposed to stop himself? He had thought about you—for lack of better words—in that way since he first met you. But above all, you were Sasha’s and Mikasa’s roommate. One of their best friends. Eren tried his hardest (at least until now) to respect that.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t nights when Eren would lie in bed and imagine you, naked and bouncy and perched on top of him, only to fuck his fist to the thought of how much better you’d squeeze him.

All that was to say, Eren could already hear Mikasa’s and Sasha’s groans of disapproval—’Seriously, Eren? Anyone but her!’—when they inevitably found out he kissed you. Right there, in the middle of your kitchen, during his birthday party, where anyone could walk in.

Or maybe you kissed him first; Eren wasn’t sure. No matter, it was all the same—his mouth on yours, your tongue parting his lips. His hands cupping your face, with yours…

Well, you were grabbing onto him wherever you could manage.

It only made it easier for him to lift you into his arms, his hands greedier than necessary as he curved them over the backs of your thighs.

Eren only broke the kiss to check that no one was around before carrying you upstairs. With your face buried into his neck, you mumbled, “Do you know which room is mine?”

He nodded before turning down the hall toward your bedroom. You were still scattering kisses along his throat as he fumbled a hand behind him to find the knob. He pressed his back against the door, opening it for the two of you to disappear inside.

You bumped around in the dark together until Eren found your bed. He sat on the edge of it with you straddling his hips.

His hands smoothed up your sides until he massaged over your breasts. Your clothes were flimsy enough for him to pull and play with your nipples through the fabric. As you started to grind helplessly against his cock, it only grew harder the more he thought of how desperate you were for it.

Eren asked, “Can I take off your shirt?”

You sat back and did it for him. But when you couldn’t reach your bedside lamp, he went ahead and flicked it on for you.

The hazy light was enough for you to catch the look in his eye. He didn’t even need to ask before you shed your bra for him, too. But what he didn't expect was to see you sink to the floor, sitting yourself sweetly between his legs.

He looked down at you, so wide-eyed that you couldn’t help but think it was cute. You reminded him, “It’s your birthday.” You palmed over the front of his jeans. “I want to make you feel good.”

You caught the delicious roll of his neck as he swallowed hard. For Eren to say he was lucky now felt like the understatement of the century.

With the button of his jeans between your fingers, you asked, “Can I?”

He was a little slack-jawed and could only give you a nod before helping you work off his jeans, then his boxers next. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few gentle pumps before licking a broad stripe up the length of it, base to tip. You loved the shudder that wracked through his body.

Eren leaned back on his elbows—like he couldn’t bear to hold himself up any longer—when you took him into your mouth. You listened to his groans with every bob of your head, taking more and more of him until he was slippery enough to hit the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck—” His fingers curled around the back of your head. He was about to push you down but stopped himself. With the hand you didn’t have wrapped around his cock, you guided his hand back where he wanted and let him have you. You hollowed your cheeks, and his voice was all strained when he told you, “You’re way too fucking good at that.”

You'd grin if you could. Instead, you sputtered a cough as you came up for air. Eren's cock sprung from your mouth with a pop that sounded thick with spit.

Eren sat up again and took your face in his hands. He looked you over with extra attention to the wet smears of black around your eyes. He swiped his thumbs across your cheeks to clean you up, then pulled you in for a kiss. It was deep but momentary, and he scooped his arms beneath yours to pull you upright.

When you were on your feet before him, still between his legs, he hiked your mini skirt up your stomach to reveal your underwear. Eren pushed them out of the way and used a hand to separate your thighs. You moaned when he started to make small circles against your clit, his fingers already slipping past your entrance with how wet you were.

Your underwear quickly became an obstacle, so he tugged them down your legs and you kicked them aside. He continued rubbing at you until your knees felt like they might buckle.

Eren leaned in like he was going to lick you but kissed gently instead. You were practically delirious off your desire when you felt his breath, hot against you, as he said, “You don’t know many times I’ve thought of you—like this.”

“Show me,” you murmured. Your head lolled to the side the moment he spread you to kiss right at your clit. “Show me exactly what you think about.”

What Eren wanted to say was, ‘Holy fucking shit. How are you even real?’ but he stifled it with a sharp inhale through his teeth. If someone were to ask him how he ended up here—with the girl he wanted for so long, whimpering and clenching her thighs in anticipation for him—he couldn’t begin to say.

Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever get a chance like this again, so he figured he might as well try, “Get on top.”

It didn’t surprise you in the least, and you showed it with a playful eye roll.

You were needy enough that you would have said yes, even without him adding on, “C’mon, like you said, it’s my birthday, remember?” He gave you a wicked grin, eyes dawdling over your figure as he reached down to stroke himself. “I wanna see how good you look on my cock.”

Of course you couldn’t say no to that, but you made him take off his shirt first.

You crawled on top of him. You kept your eyes on him, with his watching how you slipped his length between your legs. The rocking of your hips did nothing more than tease him. When Eren tried to steady them, angling his pelvis to thrust inside, you didn't let him. He practically whined. It had your insides burning hot.

“You want it?” you purred. You sat back on your heels and started to jerk him off, letting your slick coat his cock.

His eyes fluttered shut when you returned to your knees to glide his tip through you. When you’d bump it against your clit, you’d only gift him tiny moans.

Other than a few heavy breaths, Eren didn’t make a sound. You smiled down at him when you said, “Speak up, birthday boy.”

He groaned but not in the good sort of way. “Please don’t call me that right now.”

“Then tell me how badly you want it,” you cooed, lowering onto him just enough for his tip to push inside. Then you stayed put.

The back of his head pressed further into the mattress. “Oh my God—so badly.”

Eren ran his hands up your thighs and when he pushed you down onto his cock, you let him. He worked your hips for a few rolls before you set the pace, bouncing against him with palms flattened against his chest.

He held your skirt out of the way and admired how well you took him. Over and over again. His other hand slid up your front, stopping short at the base of your neck. He wrapped his fingers around it, just tightly enough for you to feel your racing pulse. You moaned—louder this time.

Eren smirked up at you when he said, “I had a feeling you’d like that.”

You didn't mind the cockiness because it was short-lived. Something in Eren snapped, as if his need for you consumed him wholly. He yanked you to him, close enough to have your tits shoved right in his face. He nibbled and licked at them, anywhere his mouth could reach. You continued grinding against him, your body twitching and tensing as his cock kissed that spot you loved—the one that had you practically seeing stars of white behind your eyelids.

His mouth was bruising you as he muttered, “Shit—just like that. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t plan on it; you were already on the verge of coming.

The headboard smacked against the wall a few times, and neither of you cared about the noise as much as you should have. You only tried to steady it with a shaky hand, fighting through the burn of your thighs because, God, he felt that good.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you whispered and whined.

Eren fucked you through it, taking control the second your hips started to spasm and your legs went soft. It gave you the chance to snake a trembling hand between your thighs.

He was pounding into you, nails marking the fat of your hips with crescent moons, when he panted, “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you come.”

Eren’s release was close behind. He flipped you onto your back and pinned you against the bed. After a few erratic snaps of his hips, he pulled out and finished himself with his hand. He came hard. You could see it in the tensing of his abs—in the way his eyebrows pinched together—as he spilled across your chest.

He kissed you—sloppily and with beautiful groans against your mouth—and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Once again, he didn’t surprise you; he seemed like the kind of guy who’d be into coming on your tits.

It didn’t need to be said aloud for you to know what the other was thinking. Did that really just happen? As if you needed more evidence than what was in front of you, with heaving chests and clammy foreheads pressed together.

But when your friends realized that you, Eren, and a corner of the cake went missing, none of it came as a shock. They knew it was only a matter of time before you idiots figured out how you felt about each other.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

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