Sheesh Bug!!! Not Me Feeling Like A Virgin All Over Again Because Of This

Sheesh Bug!!! Not me feeling like a virgin all over again because of this 🤣😍🥵

Chevelle

Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)

Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.

A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.

Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.

Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷

It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel. 

Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.

Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day. 

-

You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple.  You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.

You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something. 

You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy. 

You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.

The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand. 

“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you. 

You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.

You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.

-

In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic. 

When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.

What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable. 

-

The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”

“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”

“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”

Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you. 

You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.

“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”

“Mm,” you hum.

“Hit and run, can you believe that?” 

“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”

“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.” 

Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”

Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”

“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”

“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake. 

Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.” 

The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”

“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.” 

 The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”

You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”

Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear,  “S’okay, sweet girl.” 

“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”

“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”

Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles. 

He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”

“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft. 

Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you. 

You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”

You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.

 “Is that it?” 

“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”

His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says.  “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”

Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.” 

You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste. 

“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.

Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to. 

He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”

You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.

What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.” Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before.  Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs. 

“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view. 

Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.

He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”

The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try. 

You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you. 

“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”

Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”

His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips. 

“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment. 

“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. 

Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.

From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt. 

“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”

You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold. 

“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”

You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”

It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”

Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”

You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.

“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.

He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure.  You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure. 

Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on. 

You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg. 

“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”

Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.

Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend. 

His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.

With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man. 

Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further. 

 “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”

“You want me…”

“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.

He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3

From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻

This was such a good read! That ending 😭😭😭

Precious || Sugar daddy ! Lucien Flores x reader

Summary: You meet with your sugar daddy at his California residence. (2k words)

CW: sex in exchange of money and luxuries, feelings, slight angst, infidelity (Lucien is married), jealousy, daddy kink, English and Spanish pet names, f masturbation, fingering, blowjob, praise kink, dom!lucien, unprotected p in v, emotions, sad-ish ending (sorry i'm feeling emo), minimal editing. Also, I haven't seen the movie, so this might be OOC,

A/N: We all saw that video right? Thank you twitter for this. Also, thanks to @ozarkthedog who inspired some of this.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you made an arrangement with an older man for money, you hadn't expected that he would be... hot. You also didn't expect to fall for him.

But standing in front of you, Lucien Flores was something else. A colorful, silk-like shirt let you see glimpses of golden skin. Expensive jewelry on his throat. A wedding band on his finger as he brought the cigarette to his lips. From a wife he did not care about. A wife he left at his main residency.

But here, in California, everything was a dream. He treated you like a princess, all you had to do was to be pretty and let him fuck you, which wasn't hard when he was so handsome, and when you were madly in love with him.

"Was your trip okay?"

"Yes, everything was perfect. Thank you for the first-class trip, daddy."

He smirked and let the cigarette fall to the ground, before crushing it with his shoe. He sat on one of the lounge chairs on the patio and patted his lap to encourage you to sit on it. You climbed up and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you. His strong cologne tickled your nose.

"I missed you." He whispered, and you wished you could believe him. You wished he had missed your personality, your humor, and not only the way you sucked his cock.

"I missed you too." You responded truthfully.

“Sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you?”

“I don’t know, what will you do?” You responded mischievously.

“Did you bring the bikini I got you? Will you go lay prettily in the pool while I get some work done, hm?”

You nodded enthusiastically, and got off his lap to strip off your tight dress to reveal the red bikini that covered barely anything. The top was just enough to cover your nipples, and the bottom was more of a g-string than anything else. Lucien’s gaze devoured you, making you feel vulnerable, but hot.

You did as he said, laying in the pool on top of an oversized donut as he took work calls on the patio, attentive dark eyes looking at you from time to time.

After an hour under the sun, waiting for him, you got bored, and you wanted to play. Lucien was still on a call with a client, and you vaguely heard him speak Spanish, words about house prices and vague promises. You waited until he looked at you, then, your hand sneaked under your bikini bottoms that left little to the imagination. Like an automatism, your fingers recolted some of your wetness before circling your clit. The point wasn't as much to pleasure yourself than to provoke Lucien.

His eyes darkened, his attention fully on you as he kept speaking. He simply curved his fingers in your direction, beckoning you to come closer.

So, you did. You ungracefully got out of the pool and walked towards him like an obedient puppy.

"What are you doing?" He mouthed to you, while his client talked on the other end.

"I'm waiting for you." You responded innocently.

Lucien didn't seem satisfied with your answer. He got closer to you, until you were stuck to the patio door, your ass leaving a mark on the clean glass. He kept talking on the phone, as if nothing peculiar was happening, and he pulled your bikini to the side, so he could access your seam. His fingers went through your slit, sensing how wet you were. He looked at you with a disapproving look, and you gasped as he started circling your clit.

"... yes sir, with your budget, I certainly can find you the house of your dreams... I'll see you on Friday."

He hung up and put his phone in his back pocket.

"You want my attention so bad? You have it now." He groaned. His free hand held your waist tightly, and you wished he kissed you in that moment.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and bucked your hips against his fingers, gasping when he put two of them in your wet hole. He started pumping them in and out unceremoniously, filling the air with your obscene wet sounds. You cried softly, your back arching against the door.

"Lucien... please...I'm sorry..."

You felt him hitting that spongey spot inside of you again and again, as his palm rubbed against your clit. Your legs started to shake, and he held you up as you almost fell under the intensity of your orgasm.

"There you go baby..." He pressed his nose against your hair as he guided you through your ecstasy, inhaling your sweet, intoxicating scent. When your eyes met his, you stopped fearing he would push you away and you pulled him into a kiss. He crowded you against the house, holding you tight as he responded back with his whole body.

Only to be interrupted by another phone call. He groaned and let go of you. Still, his hand held your shoulder and he slowly pushed you to the ground.

"You will suck me off while I take this call, yeah?"

He took the call before you could say anything, but he knew you would obey. You unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers until his dick sprung free. Thick, uncut, and perfect. You salivated just looking at it. You started by licking the tip almost timidly, looking up at him through your lashes as he talked about serious work-related stuff. He looked so in control. You took him in the warmth of your mouth slowly, his hand cradling your head indicating that you were doing a good job. You were so horny for him, you could barely hear him talk, only hearing the soft vibrations of his deep voice. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, how he liked, sometimes adding a bit of teeth, just grazing the sensitive skin.

"Good girl." He mouthed to you, and you warmed up at the praise.

You accelerated eventually, hollowing your cheeks to make him feel everything. His hips bucked lightly into your mouth, encouraging you to keep your pace. His breath was getting heavier, and you could tell his concentration was failing him slowly.

"Can I call you back? I have another line I have to take. Yeah, okay."

Lucien hung up and dropped his phone to the floor.

"God... this mouth of yours, baby."

One of your hands played with his heavy sack as you kept sucking him, his body responding to you with thrusts.

"Let me come on those pretty tits." He breathed.

You hurriedly untied your top and just as you let his cock fall out of your mouth, he guided his cock with his hand as his come started spurting out. He painted your chest, and you let him make a canvas out of you.

Lucien helped you up and pecked your lips.

"Go wash up, make yourself pretty for your daddy while I finish a few calls. I left a few things for you in my room. We'll have dinner and I'll spend the night focusing on you, okay?"

"Okay, daddy." You looked at him one last time, and you disappeared in his house.

Lucien treated you like a princess, and you indulged in a delicious meal in his presence. You tasted the best wine the restaurant had to offer.  You enjoyed his company and you talked about everything. The only cloud to your evening was a call from his wife, and you tried to burry your jealousy. Your job was to be the young and pretty mistress to the rich man, not his wife.

But you knew Lucien read you like an open book. When he brought you home, to his large bedroom, he crowded you against the wall, one of his large hands beside your head, the other one low on your back.

“What was that about, baby?”

You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear his big, sad brown eyes that would unravel the truth so easily. The hand beside your head cradled your jaw, and you had no choice but to look at him.

“Nothing.”

He tsked. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t like when you talk to your wife when I’m here. It feels… wrong.” You sighed.

“Mi corazón… ” He cooed. “I have to play the part of the loving husband. Doesn’t mean you’re any less precious.”

You bit your bottom lip, swallowed your tears.

“Prove it.”  

Lucien leaned in, and his lips grazed yours, his big nose bumped against the tip of yours. “You’re my precious little thing. Can’t live without you.”

Your body responded to his, molding against his chest as you arched your back. He kissed you, fiercely. The hand against your face almost bruising. Your whimper of his name died against his lips, swallowed by his tongue. When you came back out for air, his lips traced your jaw, your neck, your cleavage. Expert hands unzipped the dress he bought for you, and it pooled at your ankles. You kicked it away, and in a hurry, you undid his soft shirt. You leaned down to kiss his chest as he smelled your hair, holding you close.

“I want you.” He whispered painfully. The older man guided you and discarded your body on fire on his comfortable bed. Lucien got rid of his pants as he took the time to look at you, sprawled on his bed, dressed in precious lace. “My pretty girl…”

You felt heat rush to your face, and you realized how much you wanted to be his.

 You both peeled off the last layers separating you, and he laid between your spread legs, his body warm against yours. You were always so ready for him. It took him mere seconds for to make you come, only so he could slide into your wetness easily and selfishly. He didn’t deserve you. You wrapped your legs around his hips as he stilled. Your cheeks were wet with tears, that he kissed away.

“Look at me.”

You did with a weak smile.

“There you are, my pretty girl.” He cooed.

“Yours, yours yours” You chanted back as he started moving slowly, but with strength that took the breath out of your lungs and made you close your eyes.

“You’re always taking me so well.” He praised. “Keep your eyes on me. Keep your mouth occupied, mi corazón.”

You sucked on the chain dangling from his neck, the metallic taste keeping you grounded as you watched him with adoration. You muffled your cries and kept your eyes on him as he started thrusting his hips faster, making your eyes want to roll in the back of your head. But you kept your focus on him, on the slight crows feet around his eyes, on his smile lines, on his beautiful, adoring eyes.

“You will come on my cock, baby.” His hand reached to where the two of you were joined, and his thumb pressed on your swollen clit, circling it at the same messy rhythm as his hips, letting you tighten and convulse around him. “Good girl.”

His words, his fingers, and the tip of his cock that kept hitting your G-spot made you see stars. You kept your eyes strained on him as you choked his dick and came around him with a muffled moan. He guided you through it, before grabbing your hips and fucking you deep and fast. His chain left your lips, and you replaced it with his mouth, kissing him slow and deep.

“W-Where do you want me?” He groaned inside your mouth.

“Inside.”

Lucien cursed as he spilled inside of you, before laying against your body, his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath. You caressed his curly hair and held him close, scared of loosing him.

“I love you.” You said in the smallest voice possible.

He looked up at you with sad eyes, and he kissed you long and slow. He would break your heart and you both knew it.

Talk about wanting to cry my eyes out. This is absolutely breathtakingly beautiful and worth such the wait to be able to fully binge it! ❤️😍❤️😍

psychomanteum masterlist

[ AO3 ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ Taglist ]

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Status: Completed

Series Summary: You've recently taken on the customer-facing responsibilities of the small-scale cannabis bakery you and your late husband ran out of your apartment, which introduces you to occasional customer, Dieter Bravo. A friendship is sparked when you realize you have something in common: you've both died. What Dieter doesn't tell you about his near-death experience, though, is that it foretold his life with you.

Tags/Warnings: grief, alternating POV, widowed OFC, 2nd person POV, physical descriptions of OFC include tattoos & scars & being lifted by dieter but nothing else that I can think of, smoking pot, consuming edibles, acid trip, drinking alcohol, cocaine and morphine use, substance abuse & addiction, fame, paparazzi, non-canon compliant although I try it’s not perfect, post-canon, divorce, suicidal thoughts and planning, angst, near-death experiences, smut (that includes: alternating power dynamics, unprotected sex with consent and discussion, piv, oral, anal), bi4bi romance, paranormal elements but not over the top spooky-ooky, psychomanteums, ghosts, spirituality, drag queen, ldr, friends to lovers, trauma that involves family of origin and past relationship issues, infertility (OFC Louella is infertile), this list is not the end all be all so pls check out warnings at the top of each chapter 🖤✨

chapters

1: Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us

2: Blotter Acid Reflux Syndrome

3: Sedated

4: The Past Is A Grotesque Animal

5: Sex with a Ghost

6: Red Flags and Long Nights

7: Monster

8: Would You Rather

9: Dearly Departed

10: Snow Day

11: Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings

12: Ghost in the Machine

13: Lunacy Fringe

14: Wish You Were Here

15: The Widow

16: Famous Last Words

17: I’ll Be Your Mirror

snacks

Wake ‘n’ Bake

Summary: You have a virtual smoke session with your new friend and secret crush, Dieter Bravo. This takes place in the storyline between chapters 2 & 3.

Acting Lesson

Summary: Dieter convinces you to roleplay with him. This takes place in the storyline between chapters 12 & 13.

Paper Rings

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: MDNI blog in general is 18+ go on now, get. Fluff, innuendos, panicked Marcus, cussing, think that's it?

Summary: Marcus wants to ask you an important question.

Mood board made by the amazing @jay-zzle, divider made by @saradika-graphics

Prompt by: @swiftispunk, let me know what ya think!

thank you @notjustjavierpena for taking a look at this and helping me with it! ❤️

Masterlist||AO3 Link

Tonight’s the night, Marcus thinks on his drive home. He’s going to ask her to marry him. After their first date, he knew deep down she was the one. Three years later and the feeling hasn’t changed. He’s asked her dad’s permission, the ring has been sitting in his dresser for months now, the reservations have been made at Mastro’s Steakhouse. He clicks the remote for the garage as he pulls into the driveway, taking a deep breath in and out before getting out of the car and going into the house.

You hear the door open downstairs; Marcus must be home. Just in time too; he had told you earlier this morning about making reservations somewhere and to dress pretty like you always do. Working on the finishing touches of your makeup, you see his reflection in the bathroom mirror smiling at you, leaning against the doorway.

“Hey babe,” you greet him with a warm smile, “I am almost done. Is there anything you need to do to get ready?”

“Not much,” Marcus responds, walking away from the doorway to the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still in the bathroom, and slowly opening the drawer he knows the ring is in, “Need to use the bathroom before we go and might change my suit jacket.” His hand creeps to the very back of the dresser, feeling for that velvet box he knows all too well is there. His fingers touch it, grasping it in his hand, quickly pulling it out, and shoving it into his jacket pocket just as you’re leaving the bathroom. He shuts the drawer quickly and turns to look at you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, giving him a suspicious look.

“Nothing,” he replies, raising his eyebrows, noticing the lone pair of socks on the floor that escaped the drawer as he was pulling the ring out, “Was going to change my socks. My feet feel gross.”

“Okay?” You giggle, shaking your head, getting your shoes on, “Weirdo.”

“Shush, you love me and wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grins at you, picking up the socks and going to sit on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You grin, “Will you help me with the back of my dress?”

He helps zip your dress up, giving the back of your neck a light kiss, shucking off his suit jacket, and laying it on the bed on his way to the bathroom.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

__

“Where are we going?” You ask, looking over at Marcus, waiting for the red light to change.

“Now what’s the fun in telling you when it is supposed to be a surprise?” He says, squeezing your thigh, “Patience.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. The car starts moving again when the light turns green. Marcus is so meticulous in everything he does. Always has a plan, a certain way of doing things, likes to be spontaneous to an extent but usually always a set schedule. You love those things about him, he’s the comfort in the chaos that life can sometimes be. He pulls  into one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington D.C.

“Oh my god, Marcus,” you whisper, “How on earth did you get a reservation?”

“I was able to make some calls,” he says, stepping out of the vehicle, making his way to your door. “Had some people who owed me some favors.” He explains, opening your door for you and offering his hand. You take his hand and let him lead you. Handing off his keys to the valet. Walking into the restaurant you are greeted by the hostess.

“Good evening, sir,” she says with a bright smile, “Name?”

“Should be under Pike.”

“Ah yes, right this way.” She says, marking in the book and grabbing a couple menus before leading the way.

You cannot believe your eyes looking around at this place. There is a bar, a live jazz band playing, and plenty of couples sitting at the other tables.

“Is this table okay, Mr. Pike?” The hostess asks when she stops at an empty table.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Marcus smiles, stepping over to the chair closest to you and sliding it out for you.

“Your waiter will be right with you.” She says, giving a small nod setting the menus down on the table.

You sit in the chair, grabbing the menu, watching Marcus move to the other side of the table to sit down across from you.

“So, Mr. Pike,” you smirk, “What on earth is the special occasion?”

“Just wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he replies, cocking an eyebrow, “Is that not allowed?”

“You’re up to something.”

“I am not,” Marcus grins, opening his menu, “What do you think you’ll have?”

“I’m thinking the salmon, although those crab cakes would be a good start, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

“Good evening and welcome to Mastro’s Steakhouse, I’m Jared and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” A young man who approaches the table says, “Can I get you two something to drink?”

“I want whatever wine pairs the best with the New York strip, sweetheart?”

“You know, I’ll think I’ll do the same thing he’s doing, Mr. Wine Connoisseur over there,” you laugh, “Whatever pairs well with the salmon dish.”

“Alright, I will ask the chef what he thinks would be the best.”

“Oh!” You say as Jared starts to leave the table, “Crab cakes! We want the crab cakes as our appetizer.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

—

It’s now or never, Marcus thinks. The evening went exactly how he wanted it to, the meal was fantastic, the wine amazing, the dessert ordered to go will be arriving soon. This is the perfect moment to ask her.

“You know,” Marcus says, grabbing your hands, rubbing them softly, “You were right, I do have something special planned for us.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Marcus takes a deep breath in and lets it out, “Babe, I knew from the moment that I met you I wanted to be with you.”

He pulls your hands to his lips and gives them a soft kiss.

“After our first date, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”

He stands up and gets down on one knee. You can hear people begin to whisper around you, watching the scene before you unfold.

“Oh my god” You say holding his hand tighter, “Marcus?”

“Baby, I love you so very much and I—” he says, patting the pocket of his suit jacket. “Fuck.”

“Babe?”

“No, no, no,” Marcus says, frantically searching his suit jacket and pants. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“Marcus,” you say, holding his face, “Look at me.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes you love. “I swear there’s a ring. I changed my jacket not even think—"

“Babe, I don’t care.” You smile, interrupting his panicked ramblings, “Ask me.”

“But the ring?”

“Don’t care, ask me.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck slotting your mouth against his. You can hear several of the other patrons clapping.

“Congratulations!” Jared says, returning to your table with your dessert.

“Thank you!” You say, beaming with joy.

—

On the drive home you can’t stop smiling like an idiot while holding Marcus’ hand. This is everything you dreamed about as a little girl; finding the perfect person to spend your life with and that is Marcus through and through.

“I still can’t believe I forgot the fucking ring!” Marcus says, shaking his head.

“Babe, you could’ve asked me with a ring made of paper and I would’ve said yes,” you laugh, “That’s the last thing I care about.”

“Well, a paper ring would be better than nothing!”

Approaching a gas station on the side of the road, an idea popped into your head.

“Stop!” You yelp, “Stop at that gas station!”

Marcus gives you a sideways look but pulls in regardless. Never one to refuse your requests.

“Cash?” You ask with your sweetest smile.

“Why’d we stop here?” He asks, rolling his eyes while getting his wallet out and handing you a twenty. You just give him a mischievous grin while getting out of the car. The door dings when you step into the gas station, making a beeline to the candy aisle and finding exactly what you were looking for: A bag of ring pops. Unable to contain your excitement, you let out a little squeal while grabbing them and head to the front.

“That’ll be $4.98.” The cashier says after ringing up your candy. You slap the twenty down on the counter and grab the bag running out.

“Thank you! Keep the change!” You shout behind you.

Getting back to the car, you see Marcus shaking his head trying to hold in his laughter. You make quick work of opening the bag, getting one singular ring pop out, and opening that as well, tapping on his window quickly, telling him to get out of the car.

“What on earth are you doing, honey?” Marcus laughs, opening the car door.

“You said something would be better than nothing,” you laugh, “Here’s something!”

You hand him the ring pop. He shakes his head looking at it.

“Baby,” Marcus starts looking up at you. “A ring pop? Really?”

“Marcus!” You huff, crossing your arms, “Are you gonna ask me?”

“Here?!” Marcus looks at you with surprise, looking at the ground, “Babe, this is a gas station parking lot!”

“And?”

“Babe, my pants—“

“Marcus Vincent Pike,” You scold, giving him a look that he knows means business.

“Okay, okay,” He says laughing, grabbing your hand, sliding out of the seat of the car with one knee on the ground, “Baby, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Duh!” You say, jumping up and down as he slides the ring pop onto your finger. “It’s beautiful!”

Marcus bursts into laughter as you shove the ring pop into your mouth. “Tasty too!” You say after popping it out of your mouth.

Marcus grabs your hand, lifting it to his mouth, pushing the ring pop in, hollowing his cheeks a little, letting out a soft sigh. You can feel your mouth getting dry while you watch him suck on the ring pop. The makeshift engagement ring makes a soft pop as he lets it leave his mouth.

“I can think of something that’s sweeter,” he says with a sly smile and wink, letting go of your hand.

Ahhh! This was so good!!! 😍😍😍

girls night out || frankie morales

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : frankie morales x f!reader

summary : after spending a night out for your friend’s birthday, you try to sneak back into the house without disturbing frankie. you thought he was a heavy sleeper, but your mischievous boyfriend never fails to surprise you.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, frankie being positively down bad for you, bar outing, alcohol consumption, reader is aware of her decisions and everyone is consenting, mechanical bull shenanigans, p in v sex (practice safe!!), grinding, riding, frankie has a filthy mouth full of praises, lotsss of nicknames, sweet aftercare bc its frankie and he's a sweetheart ofc

WC : ~3k

a/n : happy frankie friday loves !! hope you enjoy 🤭

“What bar is it again?” Frankie calls from the living room.

“It’s called ‘Deo Drinks,” you reply. “Apparently it’s new in town. Anna said she wanted to see what all the fuss is about. Supposed to be pretty nice.”

Tonight is your friend Anna’s birthday, and she wanted to take all of her best friends on a night out to a new local bar that popped up recently. According to her, it’s a nicer venue (as far as bars go, at least), so she suggested that everyone get dressed up nice for the fun of it. You look down when your phone dings, a message from Anna saying:

make sure your outfit is still practical tho! there’s something at the bar i want everyone to try <3

So here you are on a Friday evening, standing in front of your bathroom mirror perfecting your eyeliner, adjusting your hair, waiting to be picked up by your friends. You hear hefty footsteps traversing the hallway, getting closer and closer to your ensuite. You look in the mirror over your shoulder as Frankie rounds the corner. “Hey, check out these pictures of the bar—”

He cuts himself off when he finally looks up to see you. You’re wearing a sheer sparkling black shirt with a simple black tank-top underneath all tucked into your skinny jeans, the whole outfit being tied together with beautifully shiny jewelry and a pair of black heeled ankle boots. In the mirror, you catch his gaze as his eyes size you up and down, unable to pry them from all of the sparkles. You turn around and his eyes finally meet yours.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Baby… you look beautiful,” he says walking toward you, his eyes leaving yours and continuing up and down your body again. “I mean, you always do, but…” His hands trail up to rest at your hips, holding you at a distance so he can look at you.

You stare at his expression until he’s looking at you again, studying your makeup as his pupils visibly grow. You never get tired of watching your effect on him. You finally ask, “So, those pictures?”

“O-oh, right,” he stammers and brings his phone up. “There’s not very many since it’s so new, but I figured you might want to see anyway. Looks pretty cute.” You can hear the small smile creeping on his lips as you watch him scroll through the pictures. You look up again and smile at him, leaning in for a long, sweet kiss. His hands drop down to your waist to bring you closer to his body, but before he can take it further, you both hear the unmistakable sound of a car horn outside.

“That’s them,” you say, breaking away. 

He steals another kiss, humming in protest before freeing you from his grip and smiling down at you. “Go ahead, then. Go have fun.” You smile back, turning away. He playfully smacks your ass and you yelp from surprise.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You look back and give him a wink.

Your friend Emily drives the group to the bar, opting to be the designated driver for the night. Pulling up to the bar, you see the sign and decorations on the building: the bright red neon sign illuminating your face, wooden planks lining the building, and old, fake wooden shutters on the windows. Of course, you think. “‘Deo” for rodeo. It’s a western bar.

Suddenly, your phone goes off again:

Have a good time princess. I’ll be awake to let you in the house later, so call me when you’re on your way. Love you, don’t get too fucked up :)

You chuckle and send back a quick “will do, love you too!” before you walk in with your friends.

The rest of the night is a blast. You learn a few line dances from the regulars in the bar, eat food that’s honestly better than you expected, and drink probably a few too many shots and mixed drinks with the group.

“Guys!” Anna yells, obviously feeling the alcohol at this point. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” She huddles you all together and leans in so everyone can hear better. “There’s a mechanical bull towards the back. I want everyone to try!”

You make your way towards the back and see that, surprisingly, there aren’t many people back here. You approach the bull and everyone lines up for a turn. One by one, you all get on and see how long you can last. When your turn comes, you get an idea. You hand your phone to Emily, the only sober one of the bunch, and ask, “Could you record my turn for me?” She kindly agrees, taking your phone as you kick off your boots and mount the bull.

Back home, Frankie lounges on the couch relaxing in his sweats and a t-shirt, watching some random movie he found. When his phone chimes, he sits up to grab it, sees it’s from you, and opens the message to a video. Before he can even press play, his eyes go wide. 

No fucking way…

He sits up a little straighter and presses play, watching you with bewilderment as you straddle the mechanical bull, meeting every one of its jerks with an equal but opposite rebuttal. He stares at your hips swaying perfectly to keep your balance and your free hand in the air as you exclaim, your friends in the background cheering in excitement. Frankie gazes at your shocked expression. Of course, she’s a natural. He knows exactly why you’re so good at the game, even if you might not.

You ride it so well, but I’d expect nothing less from you ;)

As if he’s being broken from a trance, he notices his sweats feel unusually tight and sees a bulge slowly growing between his legs. He curses the universe that he’s not there with you right now. Though, he probably wouldn’t be able to contain himself anyway, so maybe it’s for the best. He decides that what he really needs is a shower to take care of his… issue.

But nothing will keep that video off his mind for the rest of the night.

By the end of the outing, the only one who can reliably hold her footing is Emily. Birthday girl Anna is by far the drunkest of the bunch, and while you are really not that far behind her, you might be holding your liquor the best of the group. Emily rallies everyone in the car for a ride filled with loud karaoke and copious slurred compliments to each other as she chauffeurs each girl back to their house. You are the second to last passenger to be dropped off, but Emily had planned on staying at Anna’s house anyway, so you were the last stop.

“Do you need me to walk you in?” she asks with a gentle smile through the open window.

“No, no, ‘s okay. Frankie said he left the door open… or something. I don’t remember.” His text from earlier completely slips your mind. “I think he’s sleeping anyway,” you continue with a giggle.

“Okay, I’ll stay here until I see the door close behind you just to make sure you make it in. Goodnight!” she replies.

“G’night!” you say, turning around and making your way to the door. You turn the doorknob as slow as you can and find that Frankie did in fact leave it open for you, but when you walk in, most of the lights are already turned off. You turn and wave to Emily as she pulls off, closing the front door as slowly and quietly as you can. You slip off your boots and leave them at the door, shuffling over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

You creep back to your bedroom in methodic yet messy steps, reaching your bathroom. You smear a makeup wipe across your face in a lazy, drunken attempt to clean it up a little and slip into some random comfy clothes that you aren’t sure are yours or Frankie’s, but you don’t really care. Gazing into your bed, you see Frankie’s silhouette, laying on his side under the covers, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest, thinking about how lucky you feel being able to come home to him.

As you reach down to climb into bed, every intention to spoon Frankie until you fall asleep, you’re interrupted by a hand gently grabbing your forearm. You let out a tiny gasp of surprise. “Frankie?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You made it home alright,” he says sweetly, turning over and sitting up some.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Did you really think I’d go to sleep before I made sure you got home safe?”

You look down a bit, suddenly remembering his text from earlier. “Hmm… no, I guess not. But I definitely forgot you told me you’d be up,” you reply bashfully.

“I heard you as soon as you walked through the door, anyway.” A grin breaks out across his mouth.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised. “Really?”

He lets out a chuckle. “I know you tried, but you weren’t really that good at keeping the noise down.”

You look down and giggle too. You really thought you were being quiet.

“Plus,” he continues, “I couldn’t sleep if I tried, thinking about that goddamn video you sent earlier.”

You think for a second and remember. Ohh, the bull. You grin back at him seeing his eyes grow dark merely remembering it. And now that you’re finally back in front of him, he’s ravenous. “Oh really?” you tease. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? Baby…” he says, reaching up to grab your sides and pull you closer into a gentle but hungry kiss. He pulls away, his lips mere centimeters from yours, and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

You see a glimmer of desperation in his eyes underneath his playful tone and nod. He kisses you again, a little sloppier this time as he guides you to straddle him. You lean down and melt into his lips, your tongues waltzing together. You can already feel the outline of his cock stiffening up in his pants and you subconsciously guide your hips up and down the growing bulge. 

He growls into your mouth and you swallow the noise, suddenly aware of the warm wetness growing between your legs. You keep grinding, feeling him get harder and harder, moving your kisses across his cheek and down his jaw. He groans as you lick the muscle flexing on his neck when he tilts back to give you better access. You kiss back up to his ear, nipping at the lobe and whisper softly, “Touch me, Frankie…”

His hands wander down from your face to the bottom of your shirt and he pulls it off over your head freeing your tits to the colder air of the room. His lips immediately attach to you, licking and sucking at your nipple and drawing sweet moans from your lips. He hums back at you, the vibrations reverberating against your skin and moving down between your legs as another wave of wetness fills your panties.

“Frankie… need you inside…” you whine, his tongue furiously working against the hardening bud. “Please…”

“Mmm, always such a needy girl,” he says. “Be a little patient. I missed you.” He helps you out of your soaked underwear and sees just how wet you are. “Fuck princess, you really are needy…”

His hand resting on your hip glides over to your middle, his thumb ghosting over your clit as your hips buck forward chasing the new sensation. You whine as he slowly, agonizingly teases the sensitive bundle of nerves and stares at your face watching it contort with pleasure.

“Yes, Frankie… needy jus’ for you… all you…” you whimper breathlessly at his touch. He loves when you’re like this, losing yourself to the sensations he gives you, soaking him with your slick. He can feel your wetness soaking through his sweats as your naked core rubs against his fingers and clothed cock. 

“Goddamn, gorgeous. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he teases, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, please…” you mewl. You keep grinding against him, the pressure in your lower belly building quicker and quicker. “Fill me up… please… wanna come on your cock…”

A guttural moan rumbles in his chest at that and he lifts you slightly to free his throbbing cock from his pants, precome already making the tip sparkle. He loses the pants completely and he guides you to lower down onto him. “Thaaat’s it baby… fuck, feel so good and warm,” he encourages, your walls welcoming him with every inch added inside. You gasp and moan at the stretch despite being so wet that you’re practically dripping for him. You quickly settle and feel positively stuffed. “Perfect fit. Pussy was made for me, princess.” He brings you down for a deep kiss before he says, “Now, show me how you rode that bull.”

You sit up and rest your hands on his chest for support as you slowly rock your hips forward and backward, gripping his shirt as you go. Sinful moans fill the room when you glide forward feeling the skin on his belly rub perfectly against your clit at the same time. “Fuck, Frankie…”

“Doing so good princess,” he praises, using his hands on your hips to help guide you back and forth, encouraging you to slowly pick up speed. “Yeah, ride me like you rode that bull, baby. Fuck… show me how good you are.” You sit up and pick up speed a bit at the praises he gives you, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “Yes, beautiful. You’re so good. Gonna come on my cock baby?” 

Your walls flutter around him and he groans at the feeling. “Mhm,” you reply in a high-pitched whine and a nod. You claw at his shirt wanting to feel his skin. “Want this off. Wanna feel you.”

Frankie lifts up a little, ripping the shirt off his body and tossing it off the bed. Your hands roam his chest, feeling him up and down. Your face contorts at the sudden tightness in your abdomen. “Gonna come for you… oh my god…”

“That’s it, keep going… come for me baby, let me feel you squeeze me.. so good…” Frankie drives his hips up just a little as you grind yourself to a shaking orgasm on top of him, crying out in pleasure and collapsing onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you and keeps fucking into you, letting you ride out your orgasm on top of him.

He keeps going, slower now as you come down from your high, holding you in place with those perfectly muscular arms. “My good little cowgirl, wish I could have been there to watch you earlier,” Frankie praises as he moves and you’re teetering on the edge of overstimulation. While you’re still a little dazed from the booze, your senses are heightened nonetheless, and he fills them all. His scent fills your nose as you bury it into the crook of his neck, you feel his burning touch wrapped around your body, and you hear the sweet sounds and praises he mutters into your ear.

“Frankie… ‘m gonna come again…” you manage to whimper out.

“Already princess? Feels that good, huh?” he teases, but he’s barely holding on himself. You can feel the unmistakable throbbing of his cock inside of you. “Go ahead, baby. Come on my cock… not gonna last too much longer either…”

The rolling waves of pleasure overtake you quicker than you thought they would. Without a chance to warn him, you convulse under his touch, soaking him in your pleasure and writhing on top of him. Your muffled cries fill the room and send Frankie into a frenzy, fucking into you with sloppy, hard thrusts.

“Fuck yes, baby… ’m so close… my little cowgirl, ride me so good… fuck!” he yells and quickly pulls out, dropping one hand from around your body to pump his length, spilling all over his stomach in between your bodies. His legs shake and so do yours, barely able to keep yourself hovered over him. You meet his grunting with your own whimpering as you both pant your way through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You stay laying on his chest, still held there by Frankie’s other arm and panting into his neck. Your tired eyes stay closed and you just want to lay right here on top of him with his sticky mess between you both. And you do, for a while, Frankie unable to completely catch his breath from the ride you just gave him, until he finally chirps up, “I knew you’d be an expert, princess.”

You smile and giggle. You remember hoping earlier when you sent him that video that it would drive him crazy like this, and your plan worked. “Knew you’d wanna see it first hand,” you murmur through tiredness, lingering alcohol, and complete fucked-out bliss.

He gently flips you over and lays you in the bed, getting up to retrieve a towel and clean up his mess. He wipes his stomach walking back over to the bed and gently does the same to you, pressing a kiss right below your belly button. You hum quietly and he gives you another kiss on your forehead. When Frankie climbs back into bed, you tuck yourself into his arms getting swallowed in his embrace, both of you wiggling into a comfortable position before you sigh, satisfied in every way you possibly could be.

“Goodnight, cowgirl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head. He can tell from the feeble attempt at a response that you’re nearly asleep, and he hugs you a little tighter before you both doze off together.

a/n : could possibly have a fluffy little sequel for this if anyone would ever maybe want that...

Oh! I love this so much!!! 😍

what have I done

pairing: frankie x f!reader word count: 4,050 warnings: angst, piv, wrap it up folks, there's an established relationship of sorts here so it's already been discussed, reader has no physical descriptions. summary: you finally realise what frankie means to you, but is it too late? ao3: linked

what have I done.

Now wasn’t the time to be self-conscious. 

Clutching your phone in your hand and trying to peer around the crowds of people huddled in line for security you looked desperately for his familiar frame. You didn't have a ticket, the impulse of your decision meant the airport’s barricades were as close as you were going to get.

The security clearance lineup was busy despite the hour. You fought to focus as the crowd swayed and jostled. The sound of luggage wheels clicking on the tiled floor bled into the noise of early morning conversations, some excited for the journey ahead some tired already of the grind of work ahead. Anxious anticipation pulsated through you, urging you to continue searching through the sea of faces as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

You were almost ready to give up, turn on your heel and head home. But with a break in the crowd, so small and so quick, there was no mistaking that glimpse of his silhouette. His broad shoulders, his unruly mop of hair - everything. 

He stood near the security checkpoint, emptying the contents of his pockets into one of the grey plastic trays that he'd plucked from the stack beside him. He appeared calm amidst the chaos that surrounded him.

Yet panic flooded your chest, and heat prickled under your skin. 

It was now or never. 

Steeling yourself you clenched your hands into fists. Your nails dug into the flesh at the heel of your hands. The sting ran up your arms and it gave you a reprieve from the worry of your nerves. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

Before you could think it over any longer and before the nerves won out and had you walking back to the short-term parking lot. You shouted his name as loud as you could to be heard over the thrum of the airport's buzz. 

Then the world around you fell still. 

Hush swept over the security lineup. There was a shared intake of breath that seemed to take place between you and those around you. Your heart, beating so hard and so fast, it was the only thing you could hear as the thud thud thud pounded in your ears. 

Frankie’s head snapped up, his eyes searching until they locked onto yours. The shock on his face was palpable, mirrored by the surprise of those in line who turned to see the cause of the commotion.

For a moment, you were frozen, the gap between you feeling like an insurmountable distance. Then, impulsively, Frankie stepped out of line, leaving his belongings behind. The security guard called out to him, but he quickly threw back a plea of few words but didn’t hesitate, his focus entirely on you, surprised to see you there.

As he approached, you noticed the uncertainty in his eyes, a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in him before. It was as if he was bracing himself for rejection, yet couldn’t stop himself from hoping.

When he was finally in front of you, the noise of the airport faded into the background. It was just the two of you.

The moment stretched, suspended in time. People around you resumed their activities, but the two of you remained locked in a silent exchange. You saw the questions in his eyes, the confusion. For he had bared his feelings to you, and in response, you had offered quiet and uncertainty.

“You're here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You nodded, struggling to find the words that had seemed so clear earlier that morning. The epiphany of waking up alone, with only the company of Frankie's admission of his feelings for you, a ghost that lingered in the still of the room. The house was quiet, with no familiar sound of the coffee maker or socked feet padding down the hallway - noises that had become a comfort in the past days of his most recent visit. 

You had been caught off guard by his declaration of love.

But you would be lying if you said you hadn't expected it was there. Hiding in plain sight this whole time. Bubbling under the surface, on the tip of his tongue on more than one occasion. Each time you'd suspected he was going to say something, you'd swiftly changed the subject or found a way to leave the room leaving him hanging with unspoken words in a state of confusion. 

But it was easier that way, safer. The occasional fooling around after a few drinks, the sudden bursts of affection that you both indulged in, those were manageable. It was a dance you had become skilled at, the art of keeping things casual, of never allowing yourself to be vulnerable. Those moments were pockets of escape from the realities of your lives, was an arrangement that worked for both of you.

At least you had thought it had.

It seemed that while you were comforting yourself with quiet ignorance of your feelings, Frankie was growing more confident in his feelings for you.

“I–” you started faltering, stumbling awkwardly over your words rethinking everything you had planned to say on the drive to the airport. 

It had been so much easier, formulating the words, reciting the monologue in your head. You'd been piecing together from the moment you'd left your home. But now, standing in front of Frankie it all felt like it wasn't enough.

The weight of your silence hung heavy in the air, and Frankie's hopeful expression began to waver. His eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and resignation as if he had braced himself for this outcome. You could see the gears turning in his mind, preparing for rejection, the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

But then, something inside you shifted.

The fear of losing him, the realization of your true feelings, it all peaked at that very moment. It was after all what had jolted you out of bed. Caused you to frantically search for some half-decent clothes and your car keys before racing out of the door.

You finally found your voice, though quiet and cracked, “I'm sorry.”

Frankie's face fell, and the small hope that had flickered in his eyes extinguished. He took a step back, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of your apology had physically pushed him away.

“I thought…” he trailed off, his voice barely audible.

You reached out, your hand trembling as you gently touched his arm. “No, Frankie, let me finish,” you pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice. “I'm sorry for not saying anything earlier. I'm sorry for not acknowledging what,” you gestured at the space between the both of you frantically, “this is.”

Frankie's eyes filled with a mix of hope and apprehension. He reached out tentatively, as if afraid you might disappear if he touched you too forcefully. His fingers brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

You sighed, “I'm fucking this up, this all sounded a lot better in my head on the way over here.”

Frankie's lips twitched into a small smile, the vulnerability in his eyes gradually replaced by promise. “It's okay,” he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. “I've been fucking this up too.”

You stared at him, your mind aswirl with both relief and confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked.

Before he could answer you, a voice over the loudspeaker announced the final boarding call for his flight. The moment was interrupted, the reality of the situation setting in. Frankie glanced back towards the security checkpoint, the impatient TSA agents waiting on him, torn.

You took a deep breath, knowing what you had to say. “Go, catch your flight. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He looked at you, a myriad of emotions crossing his face. After a moment, he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Okay. We can figure this out together, right?”

“Sure,” you assured him as you took his hand in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He looked down at your joined hands and then with one last lingering look at you, Frankie turned and hurried back to his belongings, rushing through security.

You stood watching long after his head had disappeared out of view. Suddenly the departure of Frankie and the void of not knowing whatever this was now between the two of you. Whatever evolution had taken place in those split seconds had created a void, taking you out of the comfort of what you were and into something unfamiliar, something you felt you'd never get to experience again - something you didn't think you deserved.

Pulling the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands for comfort, you tucked yourself away from the crowds and the flow of pedestrian traffic that had picked up flooding the security lineup. Your head was spinning, replaying the fleeting conversation. Such a small interaction that carried such a heavy weight that settled on your shoulders and made it harder for you to catch your breath for fear of tears.

As you made it back to your car, dodging the reuniting couples in arrivals, and happy families walking hand in hand back to the parking lot the reality of what had happened started to sink in. It wasn't about casual flings or unspoken feelings anymore. Frankie had revealed his heart to you, and you'd reciprocated, albeit in a clumsy manner.

The drive home didn't help, the journey feeling like it took twice as long. Each passing mile only made the void feel bigger, the hollow of your chest ache more. You'd just figured out what you wanted and now he was gone. The silence of the car, unable to bear the sound of the radio, amplified the cacophony of thoughts running through your mind.

Pulling into your driveway you grabbed your phone from the passenger seat and glanced at the screen.

A text message from Frankie.

Your heart skipped a beat, in conflict with the dread that you felt at the pit of your stomach. You unlocked the phone and read the message. It was short, quintessential Frankie, but held so much promise.

Two weeks.

It was exactly two weeks later when you felt the warmth of his body slip into the bed beside you. Arms around your waist pulling you into an embrace that brought his name to your lips whispered in quiet reverence in the silence of the night. 

Frankie.

The key you had pressed into his hand at the airport, your spare key, he had used it to let himself in at that late hour. Unable to entertain the notion of waiting to see you any later than that very moment. The darkness of the room enveloped you both as Frankie held you tightly, his breath warm against your neck.

For the past two weeks, communication between the two of you had been limited to sporadic phone calls and text messages as you negotiated work schedules and time zones. It was a constant dance of longing and uncertainty, as you both navigated the intricacies of your newfound connection. But now, with Frankie lying next to you, all the doubts and anxieties melted away.

You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you had missed so desperately.

Frankie kissed your forehead softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I couldn't stay away any longer,” he murmured.

“That's what the key was for,” you responded as you nuzzled yourself into the crook of his neck.

His laughter rumbled through his chest, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “Even without it, I'd still have found a way in, I know where you keep the spare.”

The silence of the room, filled only by your shared breathing was a comfort. His fingers traced circles on your back as a contented sigh escaped your lips as you revelled in the warmth of his embrace. 

“I missed you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grip tightened around you as if trying to convey just how much he had missed you too. 

He dropped a kiss to your shoulder, his stubble grazed at your collarbone and despite the rough feel of it against your skin, you shrugged your shoulder into him to encourage him further. Groaning at the loss of his lips against your skin you looked up and against everything that was you, you pouted.

Another laugh escaped Frankie's lips, he pulled you tight to him, his lips finding yours for the first time since the airport. The night was late, and the room dark, but behind your eyes which fell closed in delight at the touch of his lips to yours, there were floods of colour bursting forth.

It was a moment that was equally suspended in time as it was filled with urgency. The anticipation that had built over the last two let go with the held breath you'd been holding onto since you left him letting way for those unspoken feelings you had spent so long pushing down. Every touch, every kiss was wave after wave pushing out the doubts and fears that had lingered in the depths of your mind.

Looking him in the eyes, you reached up and cupped the side of his face with your hand. He stilled, his arms caging you in on either side of your shoulders. The moonlight that slipped through the gap of the gauzy curtains cast shadows over the room but a slither hit his face and the warmth of his dark brown eyes radiated more than you could put into words. At that moment, you wondered what you had done to deserve something like this, someone like Frankie. 

You traced the outline of his lips with your thumb, savouring the tenderness of the moment. 

You lifted your gaze to meet his, examining his eyes for any hint of uncertainty or reluctance. Yet, all you saw was an abundance of love and unwavering determination. It was evident, without a doubt, that the past two weeks apart had only solidified his beliefs.

As he leaned down to capture your lips, you held your breath in anticipation. You weren't sure what you had done to earn the care and attention of the man above you, 

but you were grateful beyond words. His kiss was gentle yet passionate, a perfect blend of longing and tenderness. It felt like coming home after a long journey, like finding the missing piece of yourself that you never even knew was lost.

Frankie pulled you into a warm embrace, your heart skipped a beat. He smelled the same as always, faintly sweet with a hint of warm spice. His arms wrapped around you pulling him closer to him. Your hand rested on his chest, you could feel his heart racing, as was yours. The warmth of his breath danced across your neck sending shivers down your spine.

Your fingers, without even thinking about it, laced into the curls at the nape of his neck and tugged eliciting a growl from him as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the scent of your skin. He kissed you there. Softly and slowly before trailing more kisses down to your collarbone.

A moan escaped your lips as he nipped at the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rose on your arms and involuntarily you arched your back to give him more access, inviting him to continue. His hands slid up and down your sides, tracing the contours of your body underneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt you wore.

His kisses moved up your shoulder, to the crook of your neck, and your ear before meeting your lips in a tender but passionate kiss. His lips were soft and demanding all at once making your head spin as he explored yours patiently.

With his mouth on yours, you could taste familiarity on his lips. But it was mixed with something new - something that hadn't existed between the two of you before. It was intoxicating and made you quickly lose yourself in the moment completely. 

He paused for a moment, his breath lingering at your ear as he whispered, “God, I want you more than anything. This is real isn't it,” you heard the waiver in his voice, the disturbance of confidence, the genuine fear that possibly you might have changed your mind, “I don't know if I could be okay if this isn't it.”

You tucked an errant curl behind his ear, you knew he'd be alright without you. That he could go on. But the difference now was that you couldn't imagine going on without him. It wasn't just physical, though the last two weeks had been torturous, you'd missed the way his touch set your skin on fire and his kisses were enough to make you forget everything. It was more than that. It was the way he was able to see through you, through the walls you built up. He got you in a way that no one else before him had.

You inhaled deeply, feeling like you were standing on the edge of a cliff. Your heart raced with anticipation and your body was unsure whether to fight or flee. You were a work in progress, and changing habits overnight was not an option. But what was not in question, was your feelings for the man above you.

“It's real Frankie,” you managed a nod, “it's real,” you whispered as your fingers traced the curve of his shoulder, his bicep and forearm where your fingers found his and entwined together.

“Tell me,” he murmured hoarsely as his forehead dropped to touch yours, “tell me what I can do.”

Something about his request made your heart swell over with love for him again. This was Frankie, he wanted to know, to do, whatever it would take for you to feel safe, loved and at home in his arms. Swallowing you tilted your head so you could get a better look at him. Just enough so you could take in his face basking in the moonlight. His eyes were dark beneath the shadows, traces of darker circles hinting that the last two weeks hadn't been as placid as he'd made them out to be. His eyes and his face were set with serious concern - but his lips, they were turned up in a soft smile as he watched you think.

It was sweet and maybe a little adorable at the same time. It was also taking everything in you not to kiss him again. Instead, you smiled back at him, “I just want you, Frankie, just you. All of you.”

His lips crashed into yours and you felt something start to knit together inside of you. He wasn't going to fix you, you didn't need him to, but something about the acknowledgement of your feelings for him was soothing. His mouth and hands moved with urgency. He rolled onto his side, bringing you with him, his lips never leaving yours. His one hand cupped the side of your face, while the other tugged the t-shirt you slept in up and over your hips.

His fingers greedy, in one swift move he’d pulled your panties aside and sunk his fingers into your already waiting folds and the two of you moaned at the sensation. You at the feel of those calloused fingers working their way to curl and tease you. Him at the feeling of your warmth and receptive sounds you made as he found a rhythm that had the two of you humming with electricity.

“God, you feel good, Frankie,” you breathed out, arching your back again in response to his touch, which pushed his fingers just that bit deeper, just that bit further that had you biting your lip in anticipation of what more was to come.

He wrenched his lips from yours for a moment, only to kiss down along to your collarbone and the hollow of your throat, his nose nudging at your jaw tilting your head up, his breath hot against your skin and despite the warmth that coursed through your belly, you couldn't help but shiver.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured, his voice raspy as he nipped at your jaw, his teeth sinking softly into your bottom lip, just enough to elicit a satisfying moan at the delightful sting.

You gasped as he drew his fingers out slowly as he continued to tease with a slowed pace that filled you with an ache that left you needing more. Your hips buckled with the need for him to sink his fingers back in, but he was on to your move and pulled away further despite your moaned pleas. 

You watched as his eyes locked onto yours, the hunger evident within them. A shiver ran down your spine again as he slowly traced a path with his fingers down your arm, your side, and over your hip, as he pushed your panties down and off of your legs despite him now pressing you into the mattress. You felt his breath against your skin as he leaned in to whisper, "Are you ready for me?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, unable to speak past the lump that formed in your throat in anticipation. His lips met yours in a soft kiss that was in conflict with the want and need that had built up between you. Frankie's name was a soft caress on your lips as he positioned himself between your legs, the warmth of his body enveloping you.

In that moment, you knew that this was something real. Something that felt like it was meant to be. The anticipation of what was to come left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as if it couldn't wait any longer. As he sunk into you, that moment of connection you knew it, this was the feeling you'd been pushing aside all those other times. Keeping it to just fast and dirty sex, no feelings, but this? This right here? This was a whole other level of intimacy between the two of you. It was no longer just about the physical need, but the emotional connection that had long been brewing deep between the two of you.

Your breath hitched as his hips found their rhythm, and your hands tangled in his hair, the knot twisting tighter and tighter.

“Frankie,” you moaned, your voice breaking as your climax neared.

His eyes never wavered from yours, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half smile as he picked up the rhythm, the heat and tightness of your body driving him further to the edge.

The way his voice had grown more tender, the way his lips brushed softly against your skin, the way his hands sought to touch and hold you closer with every passing moment. It wasn’t long until his name was a sweet plea on your lips as yours on his as your orgasm crashed over you. His pace didn’t falter and continued in his rhythm until he too found his release. His rhythm faltered for just a moment before he came to a stop, his forehead pressed against yours before he collapsed to the side of you.

Your breaths ragged and hearts pounding in your chests, your thighs pressed together as the aftershocks of your orgasm echoed through your body. He kissed the side of your neck, his breath warm and heavy against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his gravelled voice full of concern.

You nodded, finally finding your voice and replied, “I’m good,” you pressed your lips to his in a slow, lazy kiss.

He smiled against your lips, relief washing over his face. “I was scared I'd fucked this up.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you murmured, stroking his hair.

The silence was a blanket over the two of you in the quiet of the room. Everything had shifted and yet somehow everything still felt familiar, like coming home. There was no returning to the way things were, the line was crossed. While two weeks ago you weren’t exactly sure you wanted this kind of connection, now you weren’t sure you could ever let him go.