#JHFTM 300 followers celebration

[freakrenaissance]

Oooh, yes, my husband 😌

CONGRATULATIONS ON 300 LOVE💚💚💚 You deserve it and more because you are TALENTED and SO SWEET and everything you do is just 👨‍🍳🤌

I took the chance to spin your wheel… and first spin I got was Mando with a lactation kink… I KNOW this man loves kids and wants a big family so I can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!! All the love!

Woooo!!! This broke me. I was really going for XTRA FILTHY SMUT but that did not happen. This one surprised me when I wrote it by sneaking up all soft and sweet, and then ending that way too. That's okay, though, I like a good soft smut.

Hope you enjoy!!! :D

Word Count: 2030+

Rating: Explicit/mature, 18+ only

Outline: Din Djarin x “You”/Din’s wife (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: starts soft, ends soft; Din has a filthy mouth; praise kink (use of “good girl”); lactation kink; unprotected P/V sex in the context of marriage; sprinkling of breeding kink

Evenings and nights were always your favorite with your husband. It was the best time of the day, everyone settled down and quiet, the ship docked for the night wherever you were visiting or set to autopilot to the next destination. You knew your husband’s moods, the slight slump of his shoulders telling you that he was getting drowsy, ready to head below decks and rest, curled up in your arms.

You nursed your son, putting him down before heading up to the cockpit to knit for a bit and watch the stars race by. After an hour of that, you saw the telltale signs and knew that Din was done for the day, even if he didn’t know it himself. He pushed himself too hard, always believing that there was more of him to go around than there was.

Now that the baby was here, growing healthy and strong, Din had resumed his habit of staying up too late, tweaking just one more thing in the cockpit or looking over the available jobs just one more time. He had spent too many nights slumped sleeping in that pilot’s chair, and you had finally started being gently pushy, in the hopes of getting the man to just stop and rest.

You waited until you saw the helmet keel an inch too far to the right, knowing how heavy it felt on his head, his old habit of wearing full armor at all times in the cockpit in case things went sideways and he had to spring into action. You didn’t push him to relax or remove it, you knew how much he needed that feeling of being in control. But you could be sweet and soft, remind him how much you needed him at the end of the day, how good it would feel to finally remove the Beskar and curl up against you, skin to skin for the night.

“Din,” you made your voice soft. “It’s bedtime.”

His helmet tilted back to center and you heard him clear his throat. “Just one more thing, mesh’la.”

You smiled to yourself and finished off your row of stitches, giving him a few more minutes, tweaking knobs and fiddling with buttons. You got up and stretched, then came around to his side, placing one hand on the back of his neck with a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s go. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone tomorrow.”

Din lifted one hand to grip your waist affectionately. You could visualize the fight happening on his face, the urge to take care of just one more item battling against the pull of your soft curves in the dark. You leaned in, letting his helmet come to rest against your side.

“Let me take you to bed, you big, strong man.” Your voice was soft, your nails softer as you slipped them just under the cowl and dragged them across the back of his neck.

Din sighed and then set the ship to autopilot before he removed his helmet. His eyes were rimmed with hints of red, the circles underneath deeper than they had been yesterday. Your heart squeezed, and you immediately took the helmet to set it gently on the floor. You kneeled in front of his chair and didn’t say a word as you started to help him remove his gloves, then all of the parts of his armor that you could reach. For his part, Din let you worry your fingers over him. Then he stood up and took off his back plates and cape, piling everything neatly on the ground.

“Sit.” You left no room for argument, and Din complied. You muttered gently to yourself as you reached down to help him remove his boots, “Kriffing crazy man, pushing yourself so hard…”

Din let you undress him, let you massage your fingers up his calves and across his quads, and that told you more than anything how tired he really was. Normally he would at least protest, say that he didn’t need the help, but this quiet acquiescence was worrisome. Still, though, you knew how to relax him, get him to stop. You weren’t above using your feminine wiles to bend him to your will, all in the service of getting him to rest.

When he was finally down to his flight suit, you opened the front of it and peeled it down and off his shoulders, and then straddled his lap in the pilot’s chair. You started by skating your nails over his shoulders. Din closed his eyes as a shiver ran through his body. He nearly moaned, a soft “Ohhh…” floating out into the quiet of the cockpit.

You gently pushed his forehead so that he could lean his head back on the headrest, and increased the pressure of your fingers as you rubbed circles into the knots of his biceps and trapezius muscles. Din let his hands rest on your thighs as you worked him over, and by the end of it, he was putty in your hands. You finished by laying a soft kiss to his velvet lips, and you were surprised when he kissed back and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight.

“Sweet man, I thought you were tired?” You smiled as he brought his eyes to rest on your face.

“No, mesh’la. I think I just got a second wind.” Din raised an eyebrow at you, and you giggled as you felt him twitch hard underneath your crotch.

“No, you need to rest, my husband. You’re awfully tired.”

Din groaned as he buried his face against your sternum, grinding up against your through your clothing. You threaded your fingers through his curls and scraped your nails from his ears down to his neck, pulling a moan from deep in his throat.

“But I need to have you, just like this.” Din brought his hands up to untie the laces of your wrap dress, sliding his thick fingers under the fabric as it fell open. “Please? Can I taste your milk? You know I love to taste you, mesh’la.” He placed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts. You felt a thrill run through your body, finding it harder and harder to be stern with him.

“No, Din, you really need-” You gasped as he cupped your breast with one big hand and brought his mouth to the nipple. “You need…” But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the next part of your orders. You let your dress slide down your arms and off your shoulders, pooling on the floor of the cockpit. Your panties were damp, and Din’s strong arm wrapped around you, holding you firmly in place.

“I know what I need, my sweet wife. I need you.” Din dove back to your breast with his hungry mouth, swirling the nipple with his tongue as his erection grew and pressed harder against your clothed cunt. You felt your milk prickling behind your areolas, knowing that if Din applied any suction, you would start leaking from both breasts, and then you would entirely lose control of this mission to get him to bed.

“No, Din, bed-” but he cut you off with a growl, something primal and low that rumbled from deep in his chest and took your breath away as he gripped you closer, teeth scraping against your budded nipple.

Din began to suckle, and you threw your head back with a gasp, clinging tightly to his shoulders as the muscles flexed under your touch. He was quiet but greedy, sucking at one side before moving to the other. The feel of your milk letting down made you moan, and giving in was just too easy, too sweet to resist. You let your husband take what he wanted, what he needed from you. There would be plenty for the baby still.

“You taste like the stars, sweet girl.” Din’s voice was a hoarse whisper in between his lapping, and his praises made you wetter. “You taste like honey and sunshine like this.”

“Diiinn…” Your head was fuzzy, wiped clean of everything except desire. “Din, please…”

You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but Din took charge, lifting you half out of his lap so that he could free his cock, before hooking one thick finger and pulling your panties to the side. He swept the head of his penis back and forth against your slick folds and then thrust up inside, settling you back on his lap with his arm wrapped tight around your lower back.

“My wife, my girl,” he growled into your mouth as he worked you against him. You braced your feet as best you could, but Din was determined to do things his way. You let him pull and release you with that iron grip, canting your hips back and forth as he rocked you on his length. He ducked his head back down and lapped at you again and again.

All you could manage was a breathy, “Ohhh,” as he kept thrusting up into you at a steady pace. You grasped at his shoulders, his hair, anywhere you could find a purchase to steady yourself.

“My wife has the sweetest tits in the whole galaxy. Such a good girl, letting me fuck her like this.” Din’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at you. “Want me to fuck another warrior into you, mesh’la? Another baby?”

“Yes, oh!” You felt your climax start to unfurl, every nerve tingling as his cock rubbed against your clit from this angle.

Din suckled you again and again, pausing only to growl praises and promises up into your mouth.

“You’d like that? You want me to fill you up again? I’ll keep you pregnant all the time, full of milk for me and our babies.” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist as he fucked up inside of you harder. “Keep your tits full? Keep you dripping sweet milk, all for me?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Yes, please- yes, yes. Fill me up, Din. I want you to.”

“Come for me first, sweet girl.” Din cupped his free hand under your knee and lifted your leg high and open. “Touch yourself. I want my wife to come around my cock.”

Your hand flew down inside your panties to touch your clit, rubbing and pressing it in circles, trying desperately to follow his wishes. Finally you felt the finish coming. You gasped out to him as you came and Din kept his eyes pinned on your face as you cried out. Your cunt squeezed and milked his cock as he began to spurt his own release deep inside. Din let go of your leg, and both arms wrapped your waist in a vise grip as he ground himself into you and climaxed.

When you were both spent, Din brought both hands to cup your breasts, licking the last of your milk from the swollen nipples.

Din’s “Hmmmm…” reverberated through his lips, the deepest and most satisfied sound you could imagine. You felt him hot inside of you, and you were reluctant to lift yourself off his lap. He softened inside of you bit by bit as he licked your nipples, squeezing both breasts until he was satisfied that he had gotten every last drop.

You draped your arms around the back of Din’s neck and let his cheek rest against your breast, curling your fingers gently in the back of his hair and feeling him finally soften fully.

“Will you sleep well, my husband?” You gently teased him, a soft smile on your lips as you looked down at him and stroked his face.

Din looked up at you from under his lashes, and your heart ached at how peaceful his big brown eyes were, how comforted he looked there in your arms. You wanted him to look like that forever. You wished you could somehow wipe all worry and strain from his life. But maybe this was the best you could do for your husband, just comfort him and give him solace when he needed it most.

Din closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and you let him rest there a while longer.

---

Din Djarin/Mando character masterlist

Main masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Congratulations on your follower milestone!!!! I spun the wheel and WHAT A JOURNEY! It precariously landed on the line between Dave York/LK and Frankie Morales/BK but the machine knows what’s deep in my heart and told me it was Frankie Morales/BK. So, if you are so inclined… please and thank you so so much. 💚💚💚

Ohhhhhhhhh, Thia… Thia, Thia, Thia… you’re going to be the death of me. Thank you for your patience as I work my way through these 300 Followers Asks celebration prompts! I know this is like 6 months in the making, so I hope this hits the spot!!

Word count: 1160

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x “You” (cis-female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no racial description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Frankie pining and pining and pining and refusing to use his words; basically just a fic from Frankie’s point of view about all the things he feels about you and wants to do with you; mentions of angst and pregnancy and did I mention this is BREEDING KINK?

Frankie wonders if you know, or (more realistically) how much you know… how he feels about you, what he thinks on nights like tonight. He comes home late after a night out with the guys, stands in the entrance of your bedroom, props a shoulder against the doorway just to look at you while you doze. Your book lays abandoned on the bedspread, gorgeous face half in shadow from the soft, warm glow of the lamp.

He’s torn between watching you sleep, taking in every inch of your body and face like he’s trying to memorize it… or waking you up to satiate the sudden clench in his gut, the urge he feels to turn off the light and rouse you so that he can take you quietly in the darkness. He likes the hush sometimes, the lateness of the hour making you both quieter than you would normally be. He wonders if you know how he feels when he sees you like this, catches you unaware. How much his mind reels with fevered impulses that he tries to tamp down and then immediately wonders why he should even try to quiet them.

He wonders if you know how much he worships you, how he can feel your soft skin under his fingers even when he’s working, driving, supposed to be paying attention to something else. He wonders if you know how much your smile is like a punch in the gut, how your eyes glow when you look at him, how unworthy he feels of that admiration. He thinks he could admit it, maybe… if he had the words to describe it.

But you have to know already, don’t you? You must, living with him and letting him love you for this long. You can’t be completely ignorant of it all… the way he stares at you while you watch TV next to him on the couch, the way his heart squeezes and skips a beat when he comes home from work to find you singing lightly in the kitchen as you mix and chop things for dinner, how his mouth goes dry when you set a plate in front of him and lean down to give him a kiss. He thinks you’re going to wake up one day and realize that you’ve been wasting your time, wasting your energy on him like a fool.

So he tries to tell you, not with his words but with his hips, with his fingers and his mouth. He eats you out until you come, squeezing his fingers so hard that he thinks they’ll break, then kissing your back as he takes you from behind, grabbing a handful of your tit as he thrusts into you. He wants to spill it all right then, his feelings and desires, wants to tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, but all that comes out is a strained, “Fuck… gorgeous.” And then he’s silent again, brow furrowed as you arch your hips to take him deeper, let him fill you up. His brain goes fuzzy white for a second and then he’s crashing back into you, balls drawing up to spill everything, and there’s a whisper in his brain, a tickle of want and need, the urge to tell you to stop your birth control and let him fill you up for real. But he can’t.

So he keeps himself buried deep, catching his breath, sweaty forehead pressed to your back. Bent over like a man in prayer, thankful for the gorgeous goddess who shares her body with him so freely. He wants to tell you to marry him, make him the luckiest man in the world, have twenty of his babies and just stay with him until he breathes his last, because if you leave it’ll kill him.

He softens inside of you and then pulls out, fights the urge to scoop up his spend and push it back inside of you with his thick fingers. Cautions himself to not even look at your slick, puffy slit, lest he catch a glimpse of something precious dripping out. Then he collapses on the bed, hand pressed to his forehead, and he watches you lay back and motion him over to rest his head on your breast. He scoots closer and hums as you wrap your arm around his neck, stroking softly at his curls, his shoulder, his ears.

He slides his hand over your ribs, palms your other breast and sighs, feeling the warmth and the weight of it in his hand, and the warmth and the weight of what he really wants to ask you blocks his throat. Marry me. Have my babies. Let me fuck you every day for the rest of my life. But he can’t.

So he skates his hand down your side, his warm, flat palm coming to rest on the soft expanse of you between navel and pubic mound, the fertile scent of you still on his mouth. He wants to rub and grasp and hold you, the urge to cradle and protect your womb through your skin is overwhelming.

He wonders what they would look like, whose eyes and whose smile and whose ears they’ll get. He thinks about filling you up, about fucking you twice a day every day until you’re puffy and round and swollen with the evidence of his love. He thinks about asking you, about how you’ll laugh and say no and leave, or maybe how you’ll smile and kiss him and stay. He can’t stop thinking about it, about what it would be like if you took the ultimate risk, gave him the gift of your body, took part in the crazy adventure of making a baby with him. He thinks about your tits, how they’d swell and how sensitive you would get, how sex would feel while you’re pregnant, how much you would lean on him and rely on his protection and love. How fucking hot you would look carrying his baby inside of you.

He sighs and you press a kiss to his forehead. “What’cha thinking about?” your soft voice urging him to spill everything.

He pauses at that. Can he say something? Can he even talk, given the images and impulses crashing around in his brain? He wants you so bad again, right now, cock twitching back to hardness at the thought of lying here like this with you, but sometime in the future. The same view only with your belly round and swollen, asking him to get you some water, to rub your aching feet, to help you get off because you can’t reach your vibrator that far anymore, to fuck you again and again becuase you’ve got crazy pregnancy hormones making you weak for him. His brain is so noisy with the urge to fuck you, deposit a part of himself deep and watch it grow, watch you care for it and protect it until it’s time…

“Just thinking…” he says. “About us.” --- “Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Hi and congratulations for the milestone!! 🎉🎉

I did promise I’d take the wheel for a spin and it must be fate because this came up:

It seems fitting, that man is known for his talents with his mouth, tongue and fingers 🥴🥴

I’ll leave you with a question to go with the result (feel free to ignore if it doesn’t tickle your fancy); how long does he last until Frankie has to have a taste?

Congrats 🎉❤️

Ohhhhh frick, how could I POSSIBLY ignore that question?? Because now my head is simply reeling with HOT THOTS about Frankie Morales, finally eating you out, after you tease him endlessly.

And, of course because this is Frankie, I have to tip my hat to the seminal masterwork of “All Hail the King” by Kat @pilothusband, without which we would not have the headcanon of Frankie Morales as the pussy-eating king, which we all now know as gospel...

Thank you for helping me celebrate! There’s some real hot stuff under the cut, people!

The Game

Word count: 4500

Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Mature/Explicit, 18+ only; mature and vulgar language; mentions of making out; teasing Frankie; one mention of oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; Frankie has a FILTHY praise-kink mouth; Frankie going primal caveman on your pussy when he finally gets there

You’ve been on two previous dates with Frankie, and each one has ended in some truly smashing makeout sessions. The man is an excellent kisser, and it’s been so long since you had that, you’ve gone a little crazy with just kissing on your first two dates.

On your first date he took you out for a drive to the scenic overlook, and after an hour of good conversation, the sun had set low behind the ocean and you made out like teenagers in the cab of his truck for another hour.

Date two was an action movie, and since the theater was practically deserted when you sat down, you got a wicked idea. You tickled your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and invited him to join you in the back row, and you made out again for all 105 minutes of explosions and punching. Neither one of you remembers the plot.

Tonight is date three, and after an early dinner out, you’ve decided that it’s time to invite Frankie back to your place to see what else he can do with that talented tongue.

You pour him a cold drink and he sits on your couch, but neither one of you really wants to talk. There’s too much electricity in the air. Your head is fuzzy with want. You’ve been able to kiss him plenty, but you haven’t had the chance to do more. And then you get another idea, a leftover ‘game’ from your teenage years, something that was hot back then when you played it with your boyfriends… maybe it still works?

“Do you want to play a game?” You slip your feet out of your sandals and tuck one leg under you to swivel toward him on the couch. You smile at this handsome, sweet man with your most secret smile and bite your lip as he frowns and looks at your bookshelf full of board games.

“You mean like Scrabble?” His confusion is adorable, and you giggle as you move closer to him on the couch, your voice low… “Not like Scrabble.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him and now his frown is gone, replaced by a look of interest.

“What kind of game did you have in mind, pretty girl?” And now he looks very interested, his broad hand coming up to your shoulder to stroke your arm, pulling you closer for a kiss. But you don’t let him pull you in all the way, you stop a few inches from his face and whisper… “A naughty game.”

And now you can see the sheer hunger in his eyes. The way his pupils flare and his deep coffee eyes fix onto your lips. He tries to go in for a kiss and you pull away, just out of reach. You hold up one finger and place it to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

You smile up at him from under your lashes. “That’s the game.”

“I have to chase you?” He flicks his eyebrows up, not looking impressed.

“No. We try to get as close as we can, but we can’t touch. We tease each other, just to see how long we can hold out.”

He chuckles. “That’s a terrible game.”

“You don’t think anticipation is hot? How about this… what do you want to do to me the most? If you play my game you might get to do it.”

He looks less skeptical now. He glances at your lips, then back to your eyes, before his gaze trails down, down, down your body. You shiver, and from his look alone, you feel hot and cold all at once.

You’re starting to think this might be… well, not “dangerous,” just more of an experience than the last time you played, which was at an age where the absolute wildest possibility was that you would get to feel a boy’s hand on the outside of your bra.

You bite your lip and blink with nervous anticipation, waiting for him to take the bait. He could decide right now not to play and you would still let him ravish you, let him put his mouth and hands and dick wherever he wants. You would welcome it.

He meets your eyes again, and you hold your breath, feeling a heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your cunt at the same time. His whole body is still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, moving breaths slowly in and out, and his big brown eyes that blink occasionally as he considers you with a thoughtful expression.

This is torture, waiting for his answer. You’re about to break first, tell Frankie he doesn’t have to play your silly game, when he moves just his mouth. His bottom lip opens a crack, and his tongue slides out of the corner and sweeps across that plush, velvety top lip, half-hidden under his scruffy mustache.

He moves the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on your face... watching you watch his mouth. You suddenly realize that this is his opening move, he’s playing your game already, and he’s playing you as well. You set the rules, and he’s already winning.

You release a shaky breath and scoot an inch closer on the couch. You flick the tip of your tongue out, letting it wet your bottom lip. You bring your lower lip in between your teeth and bite down hard, watching Frankie’s eyes drift to your mouth. You release your lip from between your teeth and then exhale a sigh and a breathy moan of, “Hmm…”

You reach your hand up to open the top button of your thin cardigan, the one you like to wear because it’s your color and it’s soft and it fits you like a dream. But it’s also the one that you wear on third dates on purpose, with no blouse underneath it - just a lacy bra and a heart full of hope pounding in your chest.

He watches your fingers with that hungry look resurfacing, the one that made your stomach flip a moment ago. He scoots closer to you, closing the gap until his denim-clad leg is a centimeter from your knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, thick fingers resting just an inch from your shoulder.

No touching, you had said. Frankie is making it clear to you that he knows the rules and will play them to their limits. He reaches up to the neck of his denim shirt, the top two snaps already open, and then he unsnaps two more. The neck of his shirt falls open, and the amber light from the lamp scatters across the planes of his neck and clavicles. You can’t tear your eyes away from his golden skin, and you feel the emptiness of your pussy as it starts to leak into your panties.

Frankie holds himself still, waiting for your next move. You aren’t sure what to do next, and truthfully your brain went completely blank the moment you caught sight of Frankie’s chest. You decide to raise the stakes. You get up from the couch, moving to stand in front of Frankie where he sits. His deep brown eyes are watching you intently, smoldering as he takes in your form just an arm’s length away. His gaze skates from your face to your breasts to your hips and back up, and you wait until his eyes come to a stop before you make your move.

You reach up to the second button of your cardigan and open it, then the next one. You see Frankie’s eyes go wide, pupils flaring black as he realizes what you’re doing. You fight the giddiness that surges up inside you, forcing your face to remain as neutral as possible. You see Frankie’s cock twitch once in his jeans, and you are delirious with the sudden realization that you’re holding quite a lot of power over this gorgeous man.

Your fingers continue their dance down your buttons until all of them are free, and then you grab the lapels of your cardigan. Frankie’s eyes flick to your hands where they hover at your breasts, and you pause, drawing the moment out for as long as you deem just short of cruel. You open the cardigan and shed it from your shoulders, tossing it on the couch seat you just vacated.

Frankie takes a sharp breath in, and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. When he opens them again his brown irises are nearly blown black with arousal, and you almost feel bad for escalating the game this far. You take three steps backward toward the hallway, curling your finger to draw Frankie up off the couch. You break the silence with one word, “Bedroom.”

He surges up off the couch so quickly that you think he’s decided to break, to just grab you and pounce on you and end the game. But instead he halts a foot away, and looks deep into your eyes with a smirk. Something like a warning in the back of your brain tickles, uh-oh.

Frankie starts to undress, and as you see more of his golden skin in the low lamplight, you start to think that you might concede first. He sheds his baseball cap, then his shirt, tugging the remaining snaps open with a single pull. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, the soft patches of hair that mimic his delectable facial scruff, the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the curve of his abdomen where it meets his waistband. There’s a faint trail of hair that leads down, and now you’re dying to follow it where it leads.

He toes his work boots off, then opens the fly of his jeans. He pulls them down and off with his socks, and now he’s standing in your living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, the soft cotton fabric doing a valiant job of containing his massive erection. You fight the urge to sink down to your knees and rip his underwear off, shove your mouth down onto his cock, see how deep you can take him. You hear yourself shudder as you inhale, nearly a sob, and it echoes in the silence and stillness of the room. Frankie looks pleased with himself, coiled and waiting for your next move. He must know how close you are to breaking.

You take another few steps backwards, keeping your eyes on Frankie as he follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom. You open your jeans as you cross the threshold, pushing them down along with your underwear and kicking them off into a corner. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, and Frankie pauses to watch you, hands braced on either side of the doorway where he stands, his corded neck and shoulders tensed. You reach up to one shoulder and slowly pull the strap down. Then you do the same to the other strap, moving deliberately, watching Frankie’s ears go slightly pink as he clenches his jaw. You stand with your back to the wall, and you rest your back and shoulders against it, no longer trusting your watery knees to hold you upright. Then you tip your jaw up at Frankie. Your move.

Frankie crosses the room swiftly, long legs eating up the distance between you. He braces each large hand on the wall on either side of your head, then leans in closer, caging you in. His dark eyes fix on yours, and for just a moment you forget how to breathe. His gorgeous hooked nose is just an inch from yours, and if you tilted your head up you could bump noses, engage him in a kiss. But you’re not ready to give in just yet.

You gaze into the liquid cocoa pools, and inhale as silently as you can through your nose, smelling the clean cotton scent of Frankie’s detergent as it mixes with the masculine musk of his deodorant, the expanse of his tawny skin giving off its own salty hints. You feel a sharp twinge between your legs, another clench of your pussy, and now that’s all you can think about. You’re throbbing and wet, hot and getting hotter.

You press your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache, but it only makes it worse. You exhale and it comes out on the back of a whine, a faint noise that you know Frankie hears, because his expression changes to hunger again, mixed with a secret and knowing smile that tells you that you’re in deep trouble with this man. You have underestimated him, and you’re going to learn that lesson in a very memorable way.

Frankie is sweet and kind, soft-spoken and gentlemanly. You try to think back to what you assumed would happen when you proposed this little game, that maybe he would get a little bit horny, play along with you for a few minutes, and then pretend to give in just to get his arms around you. Instead, you seem to have awakened a strategist, someone who is used to making important calculations toward an end goal. You mistook Frankie’s softness for something it definitely is not, and now you’re regretting having challenged him. He’s not going to go easy on you.

Your stomach does that sick roller-coaster thing that it does sometimes, and you feel your heartbeat kick up a notch as Frankie uses those sharp eyes of his to inspect you. His penetrating stare moves from your eyes to your lips, which part involuntarily, an invitation to kiss you if he dares to give in first. He breathes slowly through his nose as his eyes trail down to your breasts and back up, taking in every inch of your bare skin. You feel like you’re being strangled by his gaze, but it is delicious.

Frankie takes his hands off the wall and then drops slowly to his knees. You look down at him in surprise. He opens his mouth and his voice is low and commanding. “Hands above your head for me, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin level with the floor and lace your fingers over your head, leaning harder into the wall with your shoulders. Your heart thrums in your chest, a steady tattoo that reminds you that you’re alive, but that also makes you feel very close to passing out. You try to remind yourself to breathe, breathe, breathe. You widen your legs just a bit for stability, and you hear Frankie chuckle low in his throat.

He starts talking, and were it not for the wall holding you up, you swear that you would buckle to the ground as he bathes you with his delicious, filthy monologue.

“Did you know,” Frankie intones, his voice raspy with desire, “... that you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You rush an exhale out through your mouth, and suck a great heaving breath back in. He’s only just started, and you’re not at all sure that you’re going to survive this. You dare to tilt your head to look down at Frankie, but his eyes are not on yours, they’re staring intently at your pubic mound. He’s transfixed, the secret smile gone as he stares between your legs.

“In fact, I think that this might be... the most tempting pussy that I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. I could just bury my face in her right now.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, and you lace your fingers tighter behind your head as you stare down at Frankie’s soft curls, his nose just inches from your sex, his tongue dripping honey as you feel yourself getting wetter. Frankie continues his dirty talk, spilling the gorgeous, filthy words right into the center of your being.

“I would definitely like to taste her, see how she drips for me when she really gets going. Do you drip or do you squirt, honey?”

You clench your butt muscles and lean your shoulders even harder against the wall, a desperate attempt to stay upright as your knees threaten to give out. An involuntary whine slips out from your lips, and Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, that mischievous smile curving back across his lush lips.

“Would you like that, darlin’? Would you like me to eat you out?”

You bite your lips hard and struggle to stay standing. All you want to do is give in, collapse down onto Frankie and let him have his way with you. You feel another new rush of slickness hit your center and you almost break. Not yet, your brain whispers. Just wait...

Frankie turns his face back to your pelvis and then braces his hands on the wall, so close to your hips that you can feel the warmth emanating off his skin. But again, not touching you, he’s staying within the rules that you set for him. He’s too good at this, and now you know that you’re definitely going to lose.

Frankie slowly leans forward, bending his elbows to move his face closer and closer to your crotch. His nose comes an inch away, then half an inch. For a moment you hope that he will slip and make contact and lose, but he doesn’t. He has excellent muscle control and his arms don't even quiver as he finally stops, hovering just a centimeter in front of your cunt. You are wetter than you ever have been, and you swear that you can feel it leaking down the inside of your leg, trailing down your thigh as Frankie tortures you.

His voice is a whisper now, velvety and soft, and you strain to hear him above the rushing of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“You smell amazing, honey.” He closes his eyes and inhales, taking your scent into himself like you’re the sweetest flower at the farmer’s market.

It hits you suddenly that this is the most debauched, most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a lover. No man has ever dared to just smell you like this, and you feel something twist inside the bowl of your pelvis, like a spring being wound tighter. You realize that you’re not breathing, and you open your mouth into a little o-shape to take a slow, cooling breath into your lungs. You regain your steadiness and settle deeper into yourself to try to hold out, to hang in there just a little longer.

“I bet that you taste like heaven, pretty girl. I can’t wait to fuck you on my tongue, lick you inside and out.”

Frankie leans back and looks up at you with a wink. “After you touch me first and lose, I’m going to lick this pussy so hard that you come six times while you scream my name.”

You gurgle out a surprised, “Oh!”

Frankie sits back on his heels and stands back up, a little triumphant, like he knows how close he pushed you to the edge.

You release your hands and place your palms flat on the wall by your hips, not trusting them to hang loose at your sides, lest they decide to reach out and skim over his broad shoulders of their own accord. You look up at Frankie where he hovers over you, and you lick your lips and whisper to him.

“Frankie, I want you. Please touch me.”

He arches one eyebrow at you. “Does that mean you want the game to end? Are you giving up?”

You close your eyes and shake your head no, and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re even capable of playing the game any longer. Your head is fuzzy and your skin is screaming to be touched. You take a deep breath in and then out, and when you open your eyes Frankie is looking at you with concern.

“Do you give up, sweetheart? Or do you want to keep playing?”

You choke out a strangled whisper, the barest hint of speech. “I want… I want…”

Frankie comes closer, bracing himself on the wall again, big arms boxing you in as he moves into your space. He tilts his head down and murmurs, “Tell me.”

You look up into his eyes and the whole room tilts to the left. All you can see is Frankie, and he’s all that matters while the rest of the world spins dizzy around you. You feel sick with anticipation, and you know that this is your fault, that you were the one who proposed this stupid torturous game in the first place.

You just want it to end, you need it to end now.

“Frankie, I… I want…”

“You want me to eat you out? Stick my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy and fuck you with it until you come? Is that it?”

He leans closer and still doesn’t touch you, just keeps stringing you along with his depraved poetry as he tilts his head to hover an inch from your ear.

“Or maybe you want me to finger-fuck you, too? Stretch you open and see how good it feels? I bet we can make your pussy squirt, make you gush around my hand when I reach deep inside and hit your g-spot. I bet you’ll soak the bed, you sweet thing. Maybe squirt clear across the room.”

“Oh god.” You whine and duck your chin, trying to resist the urge to turn your head toward him and make contact, kiss him and then let him go wild, do all the things he’s been threatening to do.

“Frankie, I…”

“You what, sweetheart?” His tone is just this side of mocking, and it makes your cunt clench.

“I need…”

Frankie pulls his head away from your ear and looks you directly in the eyes.

“Use your words pretty girl.” His voice has an edge now, firm, sounding like a direct order. “Tell me what you need.”

“I- I want, I need… I need you inside of me. I want you everywhere, Frankie.”

“Yeah? You need me, sweet girl? You need Frankie to take care of you?”

Your face crumples, a whine of pure desire making your throat ache. Your pussy drools another bit of slick down your inner thigh. You want to cry, and Frankie frowns at you with genuine concern.

“I can take care of you, sweetheart. Anything you want, you just say the word. But first…” He leans his head down lower, lower, lower and stops, his warm breath fanning over your lips as he whispers.

“... first you have to touch me.”

You moan at that, the unfair knowledge that all you have to do to get everything you want is to give in. And he’s so close, his nose just a centimeter from yours. All you would have to do is lean up, kiss him, and-

Frankie abruptly pushes off the wall and takes two steps back from you. The sudden absence of him makes something in you snap. You rush at him and practically knock him over, kissing him with a snarl and wrapping your arms and legs around him as he laughs in surprise. He braces both big hands under your bottom and half-carries you to your bed.

He plops you down on the bedspread and then leans down over you as you kiss and kiss and kiss him. Now that the dam has broken, you’re not sure you’re ever going to stop, and you don’t give a flying fuck that you just lost at your own game. As far as you’re concerned you won, because you’re naked on your bed with Frankie laying over you, his hard cock pressing against your wet seam through his boxers.

You open your legs wide and wrap them around Frankie’s waist, and he kisses you before pulling back with a gentle shush against your lips.

“Wait wait, pretty girl. We’re not gonna fuck yet. I gotta eat you out first.”

“No Frankie, please. Please just fuck me.” You clutch and grasp at him, trying to pull him into you. He braces himself on his arms and hovers maddeningly over your face as he smiles.

“No, baby. You said if I played your game you would let me do what I wanted. You lost. I win.”

Frankie moves his mouth to your ear and whispers. “I get to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”

You moan, a high-pitched cry of defeat. You want him inside of you now, not a moment longer. You’ve been tortured and taunted long enough, and you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, other than to see the impressive way that his erection fills out the contours of his boxer-briefs.

Frankie kisses you and tells you to release your legs, and then he stands up and wraps his big hands around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor and looks up to your face with a wicked smile, the look of a man who is about to enjoy his victory over you.

You try to remind yourself that you lost, fair and square, and now your punishment is that you will have to wait to feel Frankie’s huge cock stretching you open. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a good girl.

Frankie pushes your legs up and back toward your chest, and you hook your hands behind your knees to hold them open. He takes the first tentative lick of your clit, and you cry a soft “Oh!” and toss your head back.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your outer labia, top to bottom, and he spreads you open with his fingertips. You feel the cool air hit your slick, and then the hot swipe of his tongue through your folds. This is torture, you think, but only as much as I deserve.

Frankie licks your clit gently before suddenly surging into you tongue-first, going as deep as he can, licking into you deeply. He curls his tongue up as he withdraws, and he hits the bundle of nerves on the underside of your clit. He does it again and again and again, and before you can warn him that you’re about to come, you’re shuddering and breaking apart in his mouth.

Frankie eases two big fingers into you and you’re grateful for the thickness of them, giving your muscles something to clench and squeeze around while Frankie softly licks your clit, working you through your climax. When you finally relax your legs, he sucks your clit into his mouth and then releases you with a smack of his lips.

“That’s one, pretty girl, but I didn’t hear you scream my name. We’ll see if you can do that with any of the other five.”

Frankie dives back into you face-first, and fulfills all of his threats from the game.

---

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Congratiolations on your 300 my Love!!!!

The wheel of fortune gave me my favorite Prince Oberyn.

As I know you like it dirty, tell us about his lactation kink and how he loves having his lovers pregnant.

Maybe with a bonus.... Readers child, nr 9 turnes out to be a boy, a heir at last!!!

Whew! Okay @dihra-vesa this was HOT to write up for you. Here’s some filthy headcanon about Oberyn expressing his love for suckin’ on those titties while you’re glowing and pregnant… under the cut!!

Rating: mature/explicit, 18+ only

Word count: 1640+

Warnings: Oberyn goes to town on your breasts with his mouth; Oberyn gently restrains your arms with his hands; mentions of previous oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; P/V sex; mentions of childbirth; lactation kink (the whole point of this fic!)

Oberyn sits reclined against the pillows, dressed only in loose pants, and he pats the bed invitingly. You hook a knee up onto the high mattress and crawl over to him, the neckline of your gown dipping low.

He eyes you hungrily and smiles as you reach him. You greet him with a kiss and sit back on your heels with your legs folded under you.

Oberyn traces his fingers down your cheek, under your jaw, and down to the neckline of your gown, where your breasts swell invitingly. The midwife says you are getting close, mere days or hours from labor.

Oberyn wants you all to himself, so he invites you for more visits to his chambers, more evenings and mornings spent alone, just the two of you as he talks to your swollen belly and caresses every inch of you.

He says that you taste even sweeter now, and he’s taken to pleasuring you with his mouth more often than not, forgoing the rougher or harder sex you used to engage in with him and his other lovers.

You savor every moment that you have with him alone, knowing how rare it is. Tonight is your third night in a row with him, and his intense focus on you and the little one still growing within you is almost too much.

Those liquid eyes of his - warm and brown when you begin and nearly fiery black when you are done with your lovemaking - they linger now, trace every inch of you, over and over again. You feel loved and adored, but dizzy and breathless from his attention.

Oberyn tells you that your climax, your pleasure and release, it’s essential for you. You are about to undergo one of the most difficult things a woman can face in her lifetime, and he wants you to have a vast store of pleasure in yourself so that you can surmount the pain of childbirth.

He pulls you to straddle his lap, pulling at the ties, slipping the silken material from your shoulders. He pushes the folds of the fabric down, uncovering your breasts and your belly, until the material pools across your thighs and you are bare to the cool night air streaming in the open windows.

Oberyn does not touch you yet, not there anyway. His large hands run up and down your arms, stroking you to gooseflesh, nipples hardening for him as he scours every inch of you with those dark eyes.

You feel exposed and vulnerable, burning with the amount of attention he gives you now. You are terrified that it’s too much, you’ll collapse from how intently he’s examining you, taking in every pore and curve.

Your cunt leaks onto his lap with the attention, aching to be touched. You want him to touch you everywhere at once, from every angle - hold you from behind to rub your belly and cup your breasts, fill you from beneath as you straddle his lap like this, lay you down on the cool floor and brace himself over you as he kisses you.

This scrutiny, the way his eyes simply drift, the way he takes you into himself and reflects your beauty back at you with his expression of desire and admiration… it’s too much. You lose your breath and your patience.

You gasp and beg, “Touch me, please.”

He doesn’t speak, he simply grabs you above your elbows, arms held tight in his large hands as he sits forward and brings his face to your breast. He licks one nipple in a lazy circle, and then opens wide to suck your flesh into his mouth.

You want to lift your hands and run your fingers through his hair, but you cannot. His fingers are wrapped firmly around you, his iron grip holds your arms to your sides. He is not causing you pain or fear, but neither can you escape. You simply have to take it.

You throw your head back with a moan, growing wetter by the second. And then-

A new sensation in your tight, swollen breast. Distended these past few weeks, a sign of your body making milk for the coming little one, you have grown hot and uncomfortable under your gowns.

Now there is a tickle, pins and needles in your nipple as your slit clenches around nothing. You moan and tears prick the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it’s new and unfamiliar and you are so sensitive everywhere these days that you wail a little as it continues.

Oberyn grips you tighter and sucks harder and there’s a sudden spasm inside both of your breasts as you feel a release. It feels like your breasts are climaxing and (oddly) like they’re urinating as well. The combined sensations are so strange and so alien that you are embarrassed, you want to cover yourself and hide from him.

You feel something drip onto your thigh and you look down. Oberyn is still suckling one breast with his eyes closed in pleasure, a faint smile gracing his lips. Your other breast is leaking, a clear whitish fluid forming a bead on your exposed nipple and then dropping when it becomes too big and heavy to cling there any longer.

You are so shocked you cannot speak. If both of your breasts are leaking, that means that you released some of your milk into his mouth. You cannot stop Oberyn or push him away, you cannot cover and run and hide the way you wish to. You freeze.

Oberyn senses the change in you and he opens his eyes, turning those warm brown orbs on you with… satisfaction? Lust? Why does he not see how strange this is?

He releases your arms and wraps one big hand around your waist. He cups the other breast and moves his head to lick at it, a faint moan rising from his throat as he collects the drops of fluid on his tongue.

“What- what are you doing?” You whisper and stutter, hardly able to get the words out. It seems so wrong to be leaking like this onto your prince, defiling his sheets with something that wasn’t invited.

He tilts his head back to look up at you, eyes half-closed with lust as he caresses your thighs and hips with his large, warm hands.

“I wanted to taste you. You taste sweeter than ever before.” He dips his head to place a soft kiss to the swell of one breast, then the other. He murmurs low against your cleavage, “The first milk is always the sweetest.”

You bite your lip and place your hands on his shoulders. He looks up at you again with that lazy, lustful smile. He is relaxed everywhere except for the throbbing erection now pressing against your cunt. He is enjoying this, you realize. He wants this.

You let out a long breath, trusting him entirely. If Oberyn desires something, he shall have it.

“I didn’t know that men enjoyed this.” You cupped his jaw, “But I will do anything for my prince.”

He grins at you and pulls you closer on his lap, looking up at you with joy. “I know you will, my sweet girl. You will enjoy this, I promise.”

He moves one hand down to caress your slit while the other cups your breast, his large fingers encircling it to bring it to his mouth. Oberyn works his lips and tongue against your nipple, drawing out more milk as he swipes his other fingers easily into your wet folds. Your breasts are dripping heavily now, wetting your lap every time Oberyn leaves one to suckle the other.

He works you open this way, sucking and laving at your breasts in turn, broad thumb and fingers below whipping you into a frenzy as you moan and grip his shoulders. You shatter, leaking your slick across his lap and groaning your pleasure out into the room.

Oberyn chuckles into your hot flesh, his grin curving up as he stills his fingers but does not withdraw. He swipes his thumb once more across your swollen bud, the nerves singing with a shock before they stop pulsating.

He looks up at you and then licks a long stripe up between your breasts before he simply says, “Again.”

You nod once and shift your hips, grinding down against the heel of his palm. He lifts his head to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on him, the new milky sweetness, like nothing you have ever tasted before.

Oberyn works you toward your second climax as he wraps his free hand around one breast and massages it. He swipes his first two fingers under the nipple to catch the drops, and then lifts his fingers to your mouth. “Open.”

He brings you to your second orgasm as you taste yourself on his fingers, licking and suckling his broad digits as you cup and squeeze your breasts, desperately rolling your hips to drive his other fingers deeper inside of you.

When you are spent, raw and sated, Oberyn lays you on your side and lifts one leg to hold you open. He fucks you as he kneels there, all the while telling you how sweet you taste, how beautiful you are, how lovely and swollen and ripe you have become. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you smile at him over your shoulder and gasp when he hits something deep within you.

Oberyn finishes inside of you, then wraps you in his arms, folding his large body around yours from behind as he cups your breasts in his hand.

You drift off into sleep, awakening shortly to a cramping and a clenching in your belly. The sheets beneath you are soaked and salty. Within hours you are screaming as you bring the ninth child of the Prince of Dorne into the world.

His son is born at sunrise, and when everyone is clean and calm, Oberyn crawls up onto the bed next to you to watch the child suckle at your breast.

---

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Javier Peña x petite female reader size kink fic, Part 2

By popular demand, here’s Javier Peña’s size kink Part 2!

Part 1

Word Count: 2800+

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (petite cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature and vulgar language; a smattering of cop/suspect role play; some dom/sub elements and powerplay; SIZE KINK; praise kink (“good girl”); one instance of a ripped dress; vaginal fingering; oral sex/M receiving plus deepthroating/gagging but it’s not rough; oral sex/F receiving; protected P/V sex; Javier has a FILTHY mouth and he’s a little bit mean but then turns soft; some diminutive nicknames for Reader (“little lady”/”little girl”); Javier picking Reader up and carrying her; this is Part 2 of Javier talking dirty about his huge penis and how tiny you are (sorry/not sorry)

You kiss Javier deeply as he carries you down the hall, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. You’re dying to get him to take off his shirt, his jeans, to finish what he promised you. You wonder if you really will be able to fit all of him into your mouth. You’ve tried several times over the past few weeks, but you haven’t managed to take him all the way.

Javier tosses you onto his bed and before you can even lay back he’s reaching again to rip the rest of your buttons, more tiny pearl projectiles hitting the floor, the dress now torn all the way open. You don’t really care, the dress was inexpensive and it’ll be easy to replace, but you decide to throw it back in his face as part of your game.

You scowl up at him and set your jaw. “You owe me a new dress, Agent.”

Javier steps back, looking at you spread out on his bed as he rubs one big hand over his chin. His eyes scan you from your face down your body, drinking in the sight of your lacy bra and panties before trailing back up to meet your gaze. He looks like he’s trying to decide what to do with you, and it makes you want to rub your thighs together, quell the sudden ache and throbbing in your clit.

Javi suddenly leans down over you, crowding into your space as he braces himself above you. The scent of his cologne and most recent cigarette send your head reeling, desire spinning in your chest and making it hard to breathe. He squints at you and then murmurs low, his gravelly voice making more butterflies appear in your gut.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to demand things, little lady. I think you ought to be a bit nicer to me, and we’ll see what happens.” He dips his head low and nudges your chin up with his nose, laying kisses to your hot skin.

You gasp and keen, “I’ll be good.”

“Will you?” He keeps kissing you, down to your collarbone.

“Or are you going to be trouble?” ...down to your breasts.

“Because if you’re going to cause problems...” He kisses down your stomach and your hips.

“We can just stop right here,” He bites your mound gently through the lace of your panties.

“...and you can walk home in your ruined dress. And if you look like that? Like a little package of trouble? I bet some big, mean man will come and carry you off.”

You pant heavily and even though you know the threat is just part of the game, he’s got your heart racing. Javier is filthy and he’s playing you so well.

He licks at your clit through the lace. “Are you gonna cause me any trouble, little girl?”

You whisper, high and anxious, “No, I’ll be good for you. I promise.”

Javier leans back over you and kisses you tenderly. “I know you will. You’re always so good for me, trying to fit my cock into that pretty little mouth of yours. You try so hard, baby.”

You pout and nod at him with big eyes. “I’ll be good.”

Javier nods at you. “Good girl.”

He stands up and pulls you to a sitting position, then unzips his jeans to pull his erection out. You bite your lip and feel more slick settle into the crotch of your undies. Javier cups your chin and you open eagerly to lick around his head, wetting him as you bring your hands up to work the base of his cock. The sight of your petite hand barely wrapping all the way around gets you even wetter.

Javier leans into it, putting both hands on his hips and watching you intently as you work him from the tip as far down as you can, your eyes closed as you feel him heavy on your tongue, filling your whole mouth with his thickness. You savor the way his skin tastes, the little hint of salt and the smell of his detergent. His breathing gets heavier.

“That’s my good girl.” His voice is low and raspy. “God, your lips look so good wrapped around my cock. Can’t believe you can take me like this.”

You moan around him and flutter your eyes open to try to gaze up at him. He’s looking at you and clenching his jaw. Aroused. Intense. Focused only on you.

You tighten your lips around him, making your mouth look even smaller, like it’s some kind of effort to take him like this instead of your favorite thing to do. He puffs his chest at the sight of that and then cups your face, running his thumb over your cheek to feel his bulk under the skin.

“You’re so good at that, little girl. Look at how you're sucking me off with your wet little mouth. You want to try taking me down your throat? You can do it, can’t you… for me?”

You moan at that and suck a bit harder, fighting the urge to sneak your fingers down into your panties, to rub yourself raw from Javi’s torturous words. That’s off-limits in your game. You know that if you chase your own pleasure, he’ll delay serving it up to you on a platter. And what Javier gives you is always ten times better than what you can give yourself.

Instead, you grip the root of his dick a little harder and moan again, before you slurp off and smile up at him sweetly. “Yes, Javi. I want to try taking your huge cock down my throat. I can do it.”

“Good girl,” he growls and grabs your wrists, hauling you up against him as he pushes your tattered dress down and off your shoulders. “Strip.”

You curl your arm behind you and unclasp your bra, dropping it to the floor. Your panties follow, and Javier gives you an appraising look, followed by a long sigh. His voice drops another note lower and he gives you one of your favorite commands: “Now me.”

You bite your lip to stifle a grin, and reach up for Javier’s shirt buttons, flicking them open as rapidly as you can. You toss it on the bed, then unbutton his jeans, grazing his cock slowly with your hand. You push his jeans down, down, down his strong legs, sinking to your knees as they drop.

You look up at Javi with wide eyes, palms flattened on the front of his thighs, patiently waiting for him to lead you where he wants you. Javier gives you that look again, like he’s trying to decide exactly what to do with you, and it makes anticipation build up behind your navel like nothing else. His cock is level with your forehead, and you incline your chin up to take a long lick of the underside, watching it bob there in front of you.

Javier sucks in a sharp breath and you try it again, dragging your tongue from his soft sac to the frenulum, finishing with a flourish at the tip. You look up at him and you can almost feel your eyes sparkling with eagerness. Javier toes off his shoes and steps out of his jeans, then he tilts his head toward the soft armchair next to the dresser. You get up and follow him there.

Javier sits down in the chair, legs spread wide and you kneel again in front of your man. This is where you’re going to prove to yourself that you can do it. You can swallow him all the way down and nuzzle your nose into his soft curls. You want to take him apart and make him shatter with lust at the sight of you. You want to win at this game that you love to play with him.

You open wide and take him in as far as the back of your tongue. You’re determined. Last time you did this you made it down to the last inch before you couldn’t take any more. Today will be different. You revel in Javier’s filthy praises as you relax your jaw and try to pace your breathing along with the bobbing of your head.

“Fuck,” he spits out with a huff. “Look at you go, taking me so deep.” You feel him hit the top of your mouth, just behind the ridge where your hard palate ends and the soft palate begins. You pause for a moment, afraid of gagging. Nothing happens so you breathe in through your nose and push gently, feeling him slide back until the head of his cock hits your throat.

“Oh fuck!” Javier’s hands grip the sides of your face and you pause. His coarse curls are just out of reach, a few centimeters from your nose. You pull back slightly to exhale, twisting your tongue around the underside of his penis and then angling your head just right to slide back down over his length.

Javier lets you set the pace, his hands are just holding you, not pushing, although you wouldn’t mind him getting a little rougher. You remember your breathing and repeat the steps, sliding his head past your soft palate until it hits the back of your throat. You do an experimental swallow, feeling your throat muscles contract around him.

“Shit!” Javier pulls you off, then drags you up to his face to give you a messy kiss. His tongue feels swollen, licking frantically inside your mouth in a gesture of gratitude for doing this for him, doing this to him.

“You look so good sucking me off. You want to see what a good girl looks like?” Javier reaches to the dresser just beside him and grabs a little hand mirror. He holds it near his chest, angled so you can see yourself. Your eyes are bright with a few tears and your lips are puffy and glossy, saliva running down your chin. You look wrecked but you feel powerful.

“Watch yourself go down on me, gorgeous. Your little mouth looks so good when you swallow me down like that.”

“Yes, Javi.” You wink up at Javier and watch yourself in the mirror as his fat head slips past your lips.

You’ve never seen yourself like this, and the sight of your petite mouth cinched around Javier’s broad penis makes you moan. You watch yourself slide slowly down his length, determined to get your lips around him all the way to the root where it meets his body. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat again, and you swallow, then push gently past the last little bit of discomfort to find that your nose is buried deep in his pubic hair, your lower lip and chin touching his balls.

Javier throws his head back and lets out a low moan, and you can feel the vibration of it in your core. You close your eyes and just sit with the feeling, letting drool slip out of the sides of your mouth. You exhale and then swallow twice more, and when you pull off you taste the tang of Javi’s salty pre-cum at the tip.

You grin up at him. “I did it, now you have to make me come again.”

Javier opens his eyes and puts the mirror back on the dresser before fixing his deep brown eyes on yours.

“No.” He shakes his head, and you feel your eyebrows draw into a scowl.

Javier laughs at your distress. “You were such a good girl that I’m going to make you come two more times.”

You squeal and playfully swat his leg, and Javier reaches down to grab you under your arms. He hauls you up on his lap to straddle him, and pulls a condom off the dresser. When he’s covered he wraps his big hands around your hips and helps lift you onto his cock. You moan and sink down onto him, and a chill wracks your whole body, stiffening your nipples into buds and raising goosebumps on your shoulders.

You grip Javier’s shoulders and throw your head back in ecstasy. You let Javier guide your hips, rolling you up and down as his breathing quickens. From this angle he punches deep, hitting something over and over that half tickles and half hurts. You angle your hips so that he hits it deeper and you wail. Javier brings one broad thumb down to your clit and gyrates the pad of it over and over and over. The circular rubbing motions make you gush, and you feel electric knowing that he’s doing whatever he can to make you feel good.

Javier presses harder and your climax washes over you. He pulls his thumb away as you throb and squeeze around him. You bury your head in the crook of his neck and let him hold you close while your orgasm burns itself out. Your head spins.

“That’s my girl. Good girl.” Javier cups one hand around your ass and strokes your spine languidly with his other fingers. “You came so hard around me, I could feel you.”

He shifts underneath you, and then stands up without pulling out. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him carry you to the bed, his huge hands wrapped under your thighs for support. He lays you down on your back and you pull your knees up toward your chest, opening your legs wide. Javier leans down to kiss you and then starts thrusting into you hard. You lift your head to look down to where your bodies are joined, watching his dick spear into you over and over.

“You like that? You like seeing how small you look when I’ve got you spread open like this? How’s it feel to have a big man fucking you into the mattress?” He leans down again and starts biting kisses off from you, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with gentle suction and the blunt edges of his front teeth.

“Yes, Javi. Yes, I love it. I’m your good girl.”

“You are my good girl. You’re my girl. Look at you taking my fat- fucking- cock in your tight little cunt.” He punctuates his words with harder thrusts. “You’re my cute- tiny- fucking girl. I love your sweet- little- pussy.”

His hips start to falter, the rhythm getting sloppier with each thrust. You know he’s getting close and you wrap your legs around his hips, then you tighten and clench your pelvic muscles around him. He gasps and falls over you, filling the condom as you feel his cock spasm inside you.

When he’s recovered he grabs the base of the condom and pulls out of you, tying it off and discarding it into the wastebasket next to the dresser. He kneels back over you and peppers your face and neck with kisses.

“You got one more in you, pretty girl?” Javier sucks a hot, wet kiss to the hollow of your throat and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Yes, Javi. Will you eat me out?” You kiss him and nudge his nose with yours, making wide eyes at him. “Please?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Javier sits down on the edge of the bed and lies back, smirking at you. “C’mere and get a mustache ride, little lady.”

You giggle and leap up to straddle his face, lowering your cunt to his mouth as he grasps both of your buttocks in his big hands. Javier starts to lick your slick folds with enthusiasm, flicking the stiffened tip of his tongue across your swollen bud. He shifts his hands to wrap up and over the tops of your thighs, pulling you closer to his face until your clit is grinding over his nose, his tongue buried deep in your channel.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” You don’t have anywhere to put your hands for leverage, so you cross your arms behind your head and try to stay upright. Javier works his lips and tongue harder, shaking his head side to side in a rapid rhythm to make his nose brush your clit. You feel your third climax building quickly. You worry for a moment that Javier is unable to breathe, but then he tips his chin up and sucks your sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, and you go careening off the edge into bliss.

You shake and fall forward over the bedspread, fully exhausted from the inside out. You feel Javier slide out from between your legs and then he drapes his form over you, sucking kisses into your shoulder blade while his hand wanders down to your ass. He dips his fingers between your thighs and you feel him lazily stroke between your puffy folds.

“Was that good for you? Did you get what you needed?” Javier sucks on your earlobe and you can only groan your assent. You nod, hoping he can see from the back of your head that you’re happy and spent.

Javier leans to nuzzle the side of your neck and then squeezes your asscheek with his big hand. “That’s my good girl.”

--- Javier Peña character masterlist

JHFTM Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair @fan-of-encouragement @nolanell

Plus some other troublemakers who seemed to like the first installment LOL: @kmorales1 @missredherring @sixshooter665 @axshadows @littlemissoblivious @taylorxargentina @oceanablue

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Congrats on 300 Claire!! 🎉🎉 I spun that delightfully smutty wheel of yours in celebration and landed on Javier Peña + MO😏😏 I can't wait to see what that gorgeous brain of yours comes up with!!

Aw, thank you so much for your patience as I work my way through these many months later. 💖💖💖💖 I love how you always have something kind and positive to say about my fics, and how you always provide a dash of sweetness and light around here. I smile every time I see your name pop up on my dash or my notifications!! 😍

Here’s “making out” with Javier Peña below the cut!

Word count: 930

Rating/Warnings: Mature 18+ only (no minors), kissing, curse words, smoking, references to sex, and references to prostitution

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (female reader, co-DEA Agent, no racial description, no physical description, no name, no use of “Y/N”)

You opened the passenger side door of the sedan and plopped into the front seat. Javier had been here for three hours on stakeout, and you were coming to relieve him for a bit. 

Javier’s fourth or fifth cigarette of the evening curled a lazy string of smoke out the driver’s side window as he held the binoculars, training them on the third floor of a known ‘house of ill repute’ across the street from his parking spot. A low-level sicario named García was known to frequent the establishment, and it was an open secret that Javier did the same on occasion. 

You propped your foot on the passenger side of the dashboard and took a swig from his can of soda in the cupholder. Flat. Gross. 

You sighed as the warm Colombian night air shifted through the open windows and cooled you ever-so-slightly. 

“Where’s García now?”

Javier shrugged. “Still in the bedroom with the girl. He might be there another couple of hours.” He put the binoculars down on his lap and took a drag of his cigarette. “He usually pays for the full night, but it’s a crapshoot on whether he stays the whole time or leaves early.”

“Got it,” you yawned. 

“Late night, cariño? Am I keeping you up past your bedtime?” Javier winked and you felt your panties get a little damp, but not for any reason to do with the sweltering summer night. You had worked with Javier Peña long enough to know that his flirtations weren’t personal, although your pussy didn’t seem to know that. 

“Yeah, I should have been tucked in bed hours ago, like a true woman of leisure.” You yawned again and stretched your hands behind your head. 

Javier chuckled and shook his head, then stubbed his cigarette out in the car’s overflowing ashtray. “You telling me this stakeout isn’t luxurious? We have AM/FM radio, a half a pack of cigarettes, and the U. S. Government’s full permission to sit on our asses for a few hours.”

“Well, I’m here to relieve you, so you can go do something else with your ass for a little bit, Peña.”

He laughed and handed you the binoculars. Just then you caught a flash of movement through Javier’s window. García had exited the front door of the brothel and was crossing the street - heading straight toward your vehicle.

You dropped the binoculars on the floor and lunged toward Javier, your brain supplying the only cover you could think of: pretend to be a prostitute and make out with a customer. 

“Kiss me right now,” you breathed as Javier’s face twisted into surprise. You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to your mouth, keeping one eye on García as he approached. 

Your attention was split: half on keeping tabs on García and half on the way that Javier’s lips worked against yours. He was warm and soft, and more tender than you ever would have anticipated. You belatedly realized that Javier had lifted one hand to cup your face, and the other was wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer as his tongue bumped softly against the seam of your mouth. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes closed for a brief moment as you opened your mouth to let Javier explore. You hummed a sigh of satisfaction and then snapped your eyes open again, scanning over Javier’s shoulder for any sign of the suspect. 

García walked to a car sitting on the same side of the street as Javier’s vehicle, parked just ahead with one unoccupied car between them. He opened the driver’s side door and slipped inside. You broke off from the kiss and turned to look out the windshield. García pressed the brakes and started the car, but didn’t pull away from the curb.

You suddenly realized that you still had your hands fisted in Javier’s shirt, and you let go with a gasp. “Sorry! Oh my god, I thought he was going to see us. So I had to pretend to be a prostitute.”

Javier blinked at you and chuckled. “Well if you wanted my affections, cariño, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to pretend to be a prostitute.”

“No, I mean, I thought he was going to- and you know, I had to do something-” you stumbled over your words. 

Javier winked again, “Don’t worry, I understand. Your secret’s safe with me. But if you ever want to do that again, just say the word.”

García released the brakes and started to pull away from the curb. Javier started his ignition and prepared to follow him. Suddenly Javier’s radio crackled to life. 

“Peña, you there?”

He grabbed the handset. “Peña. Go ahead.” 

“Discontinue surveillance of García. Repeat, discontinue surveillance of the suspect. Direct orders from upstairs. Over.”

Javier let out an impressive string of curse words in both English and Spanish. He depressed the button and gave a halfhearted, “Copy that.” 

He slapped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Fuck.”

You put a hand on his arm, giving him a tentative squeeze. “Hey, we both have some free time now…”

Javier turned and looked at you with interest.

You smiled, “Wanna make out some more? I know a place that’s pretty luxurious.” 

Javier smirked and leaned closer to you. “Is that so?”

You smiled and wrapped your arm around his neck. “Yeah, it’s got AM/FM radio and everything.”

Javier laughed low as his lips met yours again. You sighed and let the night breeze caress you as you melted into his kisses. 

—

Javier Peña character masterlist

Main masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Making Out with Agent Whiskey

This one is for @furious-rogue-stuff and @generallybrontidefeelings who both got lucky and spun Agent Whiskey with some kissin' for my 300 followers celebration. This was so much fun to write!! I hope you both enjoy it!

Here’s some hot, slow-yearn, making out with Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels after the cut.

Word count: 1279

Rating: soft mature, 18+ only

Outline: Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Just making out like teenagers; some groping; Jack being all charming and stuff

Jack curled his fingers and brought them to your chin, tipping it up to place a kiss to your mouth. You closed your eyes and inhaled, nearly moaning at the way his smoky, spicy cologne emanated from him as he closed in, enveloping you in a warm bubble of Jack. His warmth and his bulk and his scent and his energy seemed to swirl around and encircle you, pulling you into his orbit and making you feel drunk off his kisses.

The leather of his sofa squeaked softly as you leaned in closer. Jack’s office was quiet, and the halls of Statesman beyond his door were empty. No footsteps or ringing phones disturbed your tête-à-tête. This was the Friday evening before a holiday weekend. Most of the staff had left early, leaving just you and Jack to pore over documents and wrap up analysis on a case.

---

You had arrived in Jack’s office at 4:00 and sat companionably next to him on the sleek leather couch, spreading folders across the coffee table and taking notes on a legal pad balanced on your knees. You loved working on tasks like this with Jack, especially at the end of the day when he lost the blazer and the Stetson, loosened the top few buttons of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up. You loved watching him, loved working with him, and loved spending any time with him that you could.

You wouldn’t exactly call your infatuation with Jack a ‘crush,’ since you were no longer a scrubbed-fresh schoolgirl brimming with giddy energy and hopeless unrequited love. But you did relish every moment spent with him, listening to his baritone drawl and enjoying the little flirty remarks, the layered banter that the two of you batted back and forth like a ping-pong ball.

Jack shuffled through the papers on the table, spreading them across the glossy wood surface as he read document headings and examined surveillance photographs. You took advantage of his distraction to sneak a glance at his handsome profile, the perfectly combed hair and sideburns, strong nose hooked over his dark mustache and plump lips. As he spread the papers out, one sheet fell onto the area rug below, and you both reached for it at the same time. Your hands touched and a spark of static electricity arced between you.

“Oops, sorry ‘bout that, darlin’.” Jack smiled at you and you tried to remember how to breathe normally. Your lungs suddenly seemed shallower than they had been a moment ago.

The static shock explained the little zap you felt on your skin, but there was no scientific explanation you could find for the butterflies in your stomach. Your gaze lingered a moment too long on Jack’s deep brown eyes before you pulled your attention back to the business at hand.

“It’s no problem. So, the analysis…” You reached for one of the folders on the table and your pen rolled off your pad to the floor below. Jack put his hand up to you in a ‘stop’ gesture.

“I’ll get that. Don’t wanna shock you again.” He chuckled.

Jack reached down with the arm that was closest to you and snagged the pen. As he brought it back up to you, the backs of his fingers grazed the outside of your knee just below the hem of your skirt. An accident? His manner was casual, and the touch was over and done with so quickly that it hardly seemed like a purposeful flirtation.

You thanked him for the pen and ducked your chin. His eyes lingered on your face a moment longer before he turned back to the array of papers spread on the table.

“Okay, so what did we find in Aspen?” Jack tapped two thick fingers on a surveillance photo and it took you a moment too long to kick your brain into gear. You stared at his hands, his strong fingers, the way they rested on the photo just a few inches from your knee.

“Um- we um, we found…” You flipped frantically back a few pages in your legal pad, searching for the notes you had made. A warmth infused your face as you struggled, you were normally very sharp and not this easily distracted. But Jack looked so handsome today, and he smelled amazing, and it was late on a Friday and you were more tired than usual, easily distracted.

You fumbled for a moment and then felt a large, warm hand on your wrist, fingers locked onto your pulse point. You looked up to see Jack looking at you, quiet and concerned, the tiniest crease between his big brown eyes.

“Are you alright, sugar? You don’t seem like yourself today.”

Your lips parted and you breathed out a soft sigh. I’m fine. I’m not fine. I think I’m in love with you. I want you so much. I just want to kiss you. You fought all of the little intrusive thoughts that zinged through your head, none of which were appropriate for the moment, the situation, the workplace.

“I- I, um…” You gulped, pulled into Jack’s dark eyes like a magnet. You leaned closer, your lips still parted, and you hoped he would understand you, pick up on every implicit thought that you had. Maybe if you just leaned in…

And then it happened. His fingers found your chin and tilted you up, and his warm, soft lips landed on yours, and then you were flying. You let Jack lead, let him kiss you and probe your mouth with his tongue, let him taste you eagerly as you still stupidly gripped your legal pad and pen in your fists.

After a moment Jack broke the kiss and you took a deep breath of cool air, trying to clear your head. He was looking at you intently, almost seriously, and for a moment you were worried that you had done something wrong.

“Was that- was that okay?” Your voice was higher and squeakier than usual in your insecurity.

Jack’s face split into a warm smile. “Well, it felt okay to me, sugar. But I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of a late evening in the office, or taking advantage of you if you’re not sure...”

“Oh no, please. Please take advantage- I mean, I want you to- I want-” You stumbled over your words and Jack began to chuckle and shake his head.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks but you weren’t embarrassed, just eager to get the words out, frustrated at your lack of finesse with speech in the presence of this handsome man. Your brain suddenly flared and thrust you into action. If you couldn’t get your words out, maybe tackling him would do.

You dropped your pad and pen on the floor and leapt across the tiny gap, knocking Jack backwards onto the couch and yanking a surprised noise from his chest, a “Mmmh!” hummed against your mouth as you straddled him. You kissed and kissed him, feeling his hands brush up your hips and grip you tight as you pressed your hands flat against his broad chest.

After a moment you pulled back and looked down at him where he lay half-sprawled on the couch, hair tousled and eyes bright.

“And how was that, Jack? I hope you don’t think you’re the one taking advantage now.” You grinned at him.

Jack looped one big hand behind your head to bring you down closer, seeking another kiss.

“Well I sure do like being taken advantage of, sugar.” He winked at you and your heart fluttered. “Why don’t we find out just how far you can take me?”

---

Agent Jack "Whiskey" Daniels character masterlist

JHFTM Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair @fan-of-encouragement @nolanell @headrollsoff

Plus some other troublemakers who might be interested but please DM me if you want to be taken off!: @kmorales1 @missredherring @sixshooter665 @axshadows @littlemissoblivious @taylorxargentina @oceanablue @omlwhatamidoinghere @sweetpascal

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Sooo I’m thinking a bookstore date with Marcus Pike. His offer to buy your books for you leads to kisses between the stacks…..*dreamy sigh*

Oh, I hope this hits the spot!! I had fun writing this up for you! 😍💖🥰

The Bookstore

Word count: 2100+

Rating: soft/mature, 18+ only

Outline: Marcus Pike x “You”/Marcus’s co-worker (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Some angst; lots of yearning; kissing with tongue

“So how would you do it?” You raised an eyebrow at Marcus. “How would you plan the perfect date?”

He seemed flustered and said, “Well, I- I don’t know. That’s why I was asking for your advice. I’m new in town and I wanted to make a good impression. I don’t want to ask this gal out and have it turn into a disaster.”

You looked back down at your lunch and tried to decide how you felt. On the one hand, working and being friends with Marcus Pike was incredibly easy. He was sweet and charming and not bad to look at, but on the other hand you were a little - okay, a LOT - jealous of whoever he was trying to ask out. You had spent the past few weeks trying to work up the courage to ask him out, and now it looked like you had missed your chance.

You sighed and put your plastic fork down. You decided to help him instead of being rude. You wished it was you that Marcus was asking out, but blocking him wouldn’t make you feel good. Maybe it wouldn’t work out and you could finally screw up the courage to ask him out yourself.

“Well, what kind of girl is she? What does she like to do? Do you want a daytime date or a nighttime date? Does she like steak or is she a vegetarian? Does she like hiking?”

Marcus looked stricken at your questions. “I- I don’t know.”

“Hmmm…” You picked up your fork and dug back in. “Well if she’s an outdoorsy type of lady, you could take her along the hiking trail and then walk over to the juice bar and then walk another little ways over to the mini-golf place.”

Marcus nodded and actually pulled out his pocket notebook to jot that down. “... okay, mini golf. What else?”

“Movie and ice cream? Dinner and dancing? No, wait… dinner and a bookstore.”

“A bookstore?” Marcus frowned. “That actually sounds like a fun date. Which bookstore?”

“The big one downtown. There’s a really good steak restaurant down the hill, and you can take a nice walk afterwards up to the bookstore and just browse. They’re open until like, 11 p.m.? Oh, wait. Even better - have her pick out a book for you, and you pick out a book for her based on what you learn about each other over dinner. And then the ice cream place across the street is open until like midnight on the weekends, so you can take your books over there and grab dessert.”

Marcus grinned at you. “That’s actually really cool! Thank you. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

You nodded and then turned the lunch conversation back to safer topics like work and the weather. Things that wouldn’t sting the back of your throat or make you blink away the threat of tears.

The rest of Friday afternoon passed and at quitting time you and Marcus walked out of the office together, chatting as usual as you made your way through the parking garage.

“Oh!” Marcus patted your shoulder and you tried not to lean into the warmth of his large hand. “I was going to tell you, thank you so much for the date suggestions. I called and asked her out this afternoon, and she agreed to go out with me tonight. So thank you.”

You fixed your mouth in a tight smile that you hoped would fool Marcus. You knew it didn’t reach your eyes, but your heart was squeezing so hard that you couldn’t, you just couldn’t pretend to be happy. Marcus paused, seeming to notice your distress.

“Are you okay?” The little line between his brows appeared, and you wished for all the world that you could kiss it away, smooth it with your fingers and make him yours.

You shook your head. “Yeah, no- just remembered I have to hit the grocery store on the way home. I hate shopping during rush hour. Enjoy your Friday night!”

Before Marcus could say anything else, you turned and walked rapidly to your car, slamming the door after you got in. You chastised yourself for being rude, and then punished yourself further for feeling like a sore loser.

“You could have asked him out weeks ago, and you missed your shot,” you told yourself. “Buck up and stop being a jerk to your friend. Be happy for him.”

You drove out of the parking garage and headed for home, feeling blue about your dinner-for-one in front of Netflix.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny, and you decided that the best form of therapy would be to scrub your place from corner to corner and declutter. After a few hours you were sweaty and dirty, ready for a shower and some lunch. After lunch you took several bags of clothing and household goods to the thrift store drop-off and hit the grocery store. After that, a nap was in order.

When you woke up it was nearly 7 p.m. and you decided you were in need of a reward. Dinner alone in front of the TV again sounded miserable, so you decided to hit the bookstore and grab dinner out somewhere on the way home.

You were browsing in the film books section when you heard a familiar voice. “Come here often?”

You turned to see Marcus grinning at you from behind a gap in the shelves. Your heart took a little leap, and you felt a smile spread wide across your face.

“Hey, Marcus! What are you doing here?”

He came around the shelving and stood next to you. As he smiled at you, you felt heat rise from your collarbone to your cheeks. This was probably the closest you had ever stood next to him, and he smelled and looked phenomenal.

Marcus made a sheepish face and put his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels a bit. “Uh, my date… uh… lady friend...” He gestured behind him toward the stairs leading to the ground level. “She left early.”

“I thought your date was yesterday?”

“It was, but then she postponed until today. We had dinner at the steak place you recommended, and when we got here a few minutes ago, she said the idea of a bookstore bored her, and she had something early tomorrow, so…”

“Oh, Marcus. I’m sorry about that.” You held your arm out and wrapped it around his shoulders, without stopping to think. This was the first time you had hugged him. The feel of his big arms encircling you in return was heaven. You stepped back and tried not to smile. You weren’t happy that he’d been ditched, but the glow you felt from hugging him was unreal.

Marcus gestured to the book in your hand and tilted his head to read the cover. “A Critical History and Filmography of Toho’s Godzilla Series? Is that your idea of light weekend reading?” He chuckled, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. He sounded intrigued.

“Yeah!” You brightened up immediately. “I’ve actually already read it, but it was a library copy. I’m thinking of getting my own. I love old Godzilla movies. They’re cheesy but-” You stopped yourself. Marcus probably didn’t want to hear about your love of monster movies.

He looked at you and raised his eyebrows. “... But what?”

You felt your face heat again. Oh gosh, was he really interested? “But they’re actually really cool. The way that a society reflects social concerns is often found in horror films, and in the case of the original Godzilla it was a reaction to the the horrific bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during the 1940s. And then there’s a 70s Godzilla movie that’s all about pollution, but it’s extremely cheesy and fun, too. Lots of people think they’re just monster movies, but they’re actually really deep.”

Marcus blinked and looked impressed. “Seriously?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I mean they can still be fun and lightweight to watch, but… You know what? You don’t want to hear me nerd out like this. I’ll let you get back to browsing. You probably want to be alone after… um…” You didn’t want to say ‘getting dumped’ but it was on the tip of your tongue.

“Actually, I’d love to browse with you. If you, that is, uh… unless you want to be alone.” You saw the tips of Marcus’s ears go pink, and you smiled at him warmly.

“I’d love that. What kind of books were you looking for, for your date?”

“Oh, we hadn’t gotten started yet, really. Dinner was kind of awkward, and then she backed out pretty quickly once she saw that I wasn’t joking about the bookstore. I think maybe she’s not a reader. And that’s okay, just…” Marcus dipped his head and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m kind of looking for a woman I can talk about books with, you know?”

You grinned, you did know. You had wanted the same thing for ages, a kind man to talk about books with. Something about Marcus’s shyness made you bolder, and you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow and smiled at him.

“Well, Marcus, I’ll be happy to be your substitute bookstore date. Tell me what you like to read, and I bet I can find the perfect book for you.”

“What about you?” Marcus smiled at you, dipping his head at your book. “I need to pick something for you, and I’m buying you that one, too.”

Your own shyness threatened to overtake you again, but you kept your eyes on his. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’m just trying to cheer up my friend Marcus after a bad date.”

Marcus pinched your book with his free hand and cradled it to his chest. “Well, your friend Marcus insists.” His deep brown eyes sparkled.

You relented. “Okay, if you insist. Now, tell me what you like to read, or stuff that fascinates you.”

Marcus smiled and told you all about his latest reads, and some of his favorite things, including the crime thriller he had just started, and his latest trip to the botanical gardens. You guided Marcus to the poetry section and grabbed a book of your favorite Japanese haiku poems, translated to English. Marcus’s eyes lit up.

“Haiku? I’ve never actually read any, but what made you think of this?”

You opened the book and showed him the table of contents. “Well, haiku often have a focus on or themes about nature, and I love this volume because they’re arranged by season. See? Winter, spring, summer, and fall. And you mentioned you loved the botanical gardens and how different they were last week from when you visited a few months ago…”

You looked at Marcus with an eager smile, and something in his expression made you freeze. He was looking at you with his mouth open and brows furrowed. You wondered if he was confused by your reasoning, or maybe he didn’t like the book suggestion.

“I mean, if you don’t like it, I can try to find you something else…” You trailed off. Marcus was looking at you with awe and wonder, deep brown eyes glowing like you had hung the moon. Then Marcus leaned closer, and butterflies exploded in your stomach.

“You’re wonderful,” he breathed. “I love it. Can I- I mean, can I kiss you?”

You looked at him with the same expression of wonderment that had been on his face a moment ago. Was he really-? Did he really want to-?

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly.

Marcus put the books on an open spot on the shelf and pulled you close, both big hands wrapping around your waist. He felt good and warm, strong and safe. This was even better than you could have imagined. His mouth found yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck, wondering at how this had happened, how you had gotten lucky enough to run into him after his disastrous date.

You marveled at the feel of Marcus’s warm lips, caressing yours. When you opened your mouth, his tongue found yours immediately, softly exploring your mouth with tender licks and gentle pressure. Marcus was an excellent kisser, and after a moment you broke away.

When you looked at each other you both smiled. Marcus spoke first.

“Wow… do you, um, do you want to get out of here? I’d love to take you on a real date, if you’re up for ice cream and more book talk.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yes. Yes please. I’d like that a lot, Marcus.”

Marcus smiled and grabbed the books, walking you both to the checkout counter with his arm around you the whole time.

---

Marcus Pike character masterlist

Main masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

[just-here-for-the-moment]

I got Javier Peña and size kink. I can’t wait… also… can we somehow tie this into the universe of my Frankie request from before… 🤪

OMG girl, I don’t know how to work this into the Frankie fic, but only because I feel like if you had this good of a time with Javier, why would you have ever left him?? LOL… Forgive me for failing on that front, but I do hope you enjoy this little drabble/headcanon about Javier Peña’s size kink!

Update: Oh, hey, there's a Part 2 now!

Word Count: 1280

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (petite cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature and vulgar language; a smattering of cop/suspect roleplay; some dom/sub elements; SIZE KINK; one instance of Javier restraining your hands with his hands; one instance of a ripped dress; vaginal fingering; mentions of blow jobs and throat fucking; mention of P/V sex; Javier has a FILTHY mouth; this is pretty much just Javier talking dirty about his huge penis and how tiny you are (sorry/not sorry)

“You like that?” Javier hisses into your ear from behind as he presses you up against the wall of his hallway, one massive hand gripping your hip through your thin summer dress. “You feel that huge cock in my jeans? That’s all for you, baby.”

He grinds once more against your ass so that there’s no mistaking what you do to him, and it punches the air out of your lungs. You feel like you’re drowning with desire.

“Put your little hands up on the wall for me, sweetheart. Can’t have you trying to get away right after I got you just where I want you.” He emphasizes his command with a hot lick to the curve of your ear, and you feel your knees start to give out.

Javier’s fingers dig harder into your hip as he brings his free hand down to grab your wrist. You let him pull your hand up above your head, palm flat against the wall, and you bring your other hand up to join it.

Javier wraps his fingers around both of your wrists, pinning you to the wall as he grinds his hips against you one more time. You rest your forehead against the smooth, cool painted surface, grateful for the contrast against your heated brow.

Before you can collect yourself, Javier bends his knee and pushes it up between your legs, shoving it hard to one side. “Legs apart, open up for me. This is going to be a very thorough pat-down, honey.”

You suck in a massive gasp of air and revel in the feeling of Javier taking control. You love this game, and you trust the man to play it well and to play it fairly with you. He always gives you what you want and he’s never once come close to hurting you. But that’s the fun part, isn’t it? The hint of danger? The possibility that he could, at any time, just pick you up and have his way with you?

You love the fact that Javier has so much bulk and strength outmeasuring you. He’s more than a head taller, a good forty or fifty pounds heavier, and lots of it is ropy muscle honed from years of a physical job. Just the fact that he could very well pin you down for hours without breaking a sweat… it makes you moan.

“You hot for me already, baby? I haven’t even touched you yet.” His hand leaves your hip and you feel him skim it up to your breast, cupping it and squeezing before roaming to the other one.

Javier’s fingers drift back to the center of your sternum. He fumbles with the small buttons there for a moment before hooking his fingers into the openings between them and dragging the fabric hard to one side. You gasp and bite your lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but close. You hear the tiny pearl buttons clatter to the floor, but all he’s managed to do is pop off two or three.

“Keep your hands right there for me.” Javier growls into your ear. “Don't. You. Move.” And then he releases his grip on your wrists.

Even though you can guess what’s about to happen, you still go reeling when he actually does it. Javier hooks both hands into the opening he’s created at the bodice of your dress, and there’s the briefest moment of hesitation before you feel the pull of the fabric, the sound of more buttons hitting the floor, the cool air hitting your cleavage. You feel faint with desire, fighting the urge to slump down to the floor, let go of the wall, the only thing holding you in place.

You clench your jaw and try to remember how to breathe as Javier brings both of his hands up to cup your breasts through the lace of your bra. He bends his head down to nuzzle the back of your neck and you nearly faint right there.

Just when you think you can’t possibly take any more, Javier drops one hand down. You feel his fingers trail up the front of your thigh. He skims his fingertips up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the edge of your panties.

In the blink of an eye his fingers dip between your leg and the lacy fabric, swiping up through your folds, straight to the source of your heat and your slick. He brings his face down to rest alongside your cheek, breathing hot and hard over your skin. You fight the urge to grind down against his hand, knowing that if you do he’ll make you wait even longer for the rest of your pleasure.

“I like your tiny, tight little pussy,” Javier whispers against your cheek. You roll your forehead to the side and let his hot words fan across your lips. The hand on your breast moves down to encircle your ribcage, pulling you tight against him to feel his erection again. “I love feeling you squeeze me… the way my fingers look so big when they’re inside of you.”

Javier’s fingers are sure and quick. Two of them tucked deep inside of you feel almost like four of your own. They are thick, one of your favorite things about him, along with the way his wide chest cages you against the wall where you stand, the way his strong arms encircle you when you have your head tucked against his front.

“Are you going to come like this? I’m not finished with you yet, but I’ll let you come on my fingers first if you promise to be good later.”

The words choke out from you in a whisper. “... if I’m good?”

Javier digs harder inside of you, reaching for the spot he knows makes you quiver, and he brings his broad thumb into play, pressing and circling your clit. You whine and bite your lip again, and this time there’s the metallic sting of blood against your tongue.

“If you let me put my dick in your mouth, slip it between those plump little lips of yours, suck all of it down for me... I’ll let you come. I’ll make you come.” You moan, a low, keening sound full of need and want, and Javier knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“If you’re good, if you can fit all of me this time, I might even let you come twice.”

“Yes!” Your voice is foreign to your own ears, high and ragged. “Yes, Javi, I want you. I want you to stick your huge dick down my throat. Please.”

“And then? After you’re done taking me down your throat, I’m going to fuck you hard. Watch my massive cock disappear into that tight little cunt of yours. You want that?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, and your head is completely filled with the feeling of Javier stretching you open, the way that he fills you up... the way that he fucked you last week when you straddled him and he grabbed your hips and bounced you up and down on his cock like you weighed nothing.

“Oh god, Javi, I’m close.” His thumb rubs your clit twice more and he flexes his fingers inside of you, sending you over the edge. You keep your hands on the wall and promise yourself that you’ll be good for him, knowing that he’ll be good to you in return.

“That’s my girl.” Javier chews your earlobe and you finally slump, letting him turn you and pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you to his bedroom to finish the job.

---

Javier Peña character masterlist

JHFTM Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Hello my love! Congratulations on 300 followers!!! It’s so so deserved. ❤️ I spun the wheel and got Marcus Pike/LK (my body is ready). Someone about our soft boy Marcus going feral over that sweet sweet titty nectar DOES IT for me

Ohhhhh I’m gonna die. This is how I die. I’m dead. Because there are THREE Marcus Pike lactation kink fics that have wrecked me up one side and down the other since I read them, and there’s no way in HELL I’m going to be able to hold a candle to them. But here goes some Marcus Pike x wife reader lactation kink under the cut! Also folding in and including this Ask from @hnt-escape

Word count: 2700

Outline/Warnings: Marcus Pike x “You” (Marcus’s wife, female reader) new parents with an 8-week-old baby; mentions of postpartum body changes and insecurities; mentions of not wanting to get pregnant again so soon; showering together; breastmilk spraying; vaginal fingering; Marcus realizing his lactation kink; one soft smack on Reader’s bottom; P/V sex; a sprinkling of orgasm delay; Marcus talking filthy-sweet to you (praise kink)

You woke up to a bit of sunlight streaming in the bedroom window. As you came to, your bleary brain refused to focus on anything. All you could think was Late. Baby? Why so late? Why didn’t the baby wake me?

You groaned and rolled onto your side, painfully aware of how engorged and hot your breasts were. The sounds of Marcus humming in the shower filtered to you through the door and you sat up in bed, tiptoeing your way to the nursery.

You checked the baby where she lay in her bassinet and noticed a mostly-empty bottle of breastmilk on the bookshelf next to the rocking chair. Ah, Marcus.

You had gotten up with the baby and nursed her around 1:30 in the morning. Based on how hungry she was, nursing and draining both sides, you assumed she was going through some kind of growth spurt. Marcus must have gotten up with her around 6:00 and fed her a bottle before putting her back down for a bit. Sweet man, you thought to yourself with a smile.

You opened the bathroom door and closed it behind you gently. You admired your husband’s naked form through the foggy, translucent shower curtain, reveling in the scent of his body wash as you stripped off your camisole and pajama pants. Your breasts leaked a few drops of milk as the steam and the warmth of the bathroom hit you.

“Room for one more in there?” You called softly so as not to startle him.

Marcus turned and slid the curtain open a crack, grinning out at you. He resembled a waterlogged puppy, all wet dark hair and big brown eyes. He looked you up and down, taking in your naked form with a low whistle. You grappled with the insecurities that welled up about your postpartum body, fought the urge to cover your belly with your hands or turn and hide from his gaze.

“Only if you’re the one asking, but I don’t think there’s enough room in here for you and me and all of your sexiness, too.” Marcus winked at you and licked an errant drop of water from the corner of his mouth. “C’mere.”

You opened the curtain at the back of the shower and stepped in behind him. He closed the gap at the front where he had stuck his head out, and you were enveloped in steam. For a moment it took your breath away.

Marcus started rinsing the suds off his chest, and you wrapped your arms around him, skating your fingers across his ribs as you hugged him from behind. You wanted to squeeze him tight but your aching breasts were rock-hard, painful and full of milk. Marcus hummed a contented sigh and draped his large hands over yours where they hugged his waist.

You turned your head to lay your cheek against his back, loving the way his skin felt on yours. New parenting was full of interruptions and stress, lack of sleep and doctor’s checkups and mountains of laundry and tiny little frustrations. This was the first time you had showered together since before the baby came, and it was a moment you wanted to treasure. You wanted to collect the sensations and the smells of his clean, warm, wet skin on yours so that you could conjure it up later and daydream about it while you were feeling low.

Marcus turned and faced you, pulling your lips up to his for a long, slow kiss. Droplets of water ran off his hair and down your cheek, and you felt drops of milk coming from both nipples.

“You want the water, babe?” He hugged you close and turned you both, stepping carefully around you in the small space.

You shivered as the water hit your back, almost too warm but absolutely delicious. You bent your head back under the spray and let it run over you and down your shoulders.

“Damn, baby! Does it always do that when you get in the shower?” You focused on Marcus, seeing his eyes fixed to your breasts. You looked down to see both nipples picking up speed, milk dripping rapidly now. You laughed.

“Yeah, sometimes. You wanna see something weird?” You grabbed one breast in both hands at the base, and squeezed and rolled your hands forward the way the lactation consultant had showed you. There was the briefest pause before the ducts began letdown, and then milk sprayed out, shooting the entire length of the tub and sprinkling Marcus across his stomach and crotch. His jaw dropped.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, worried that he would think it was gross. “Here.” You grabbed a wet washcloth so he could wipe it off.

Marcus ignored the cloth you held out. He seemed entirely shell shocked as he stared at your breasts, and you were growing more embarrassed by the second.

“You don’t have to stare like that,” you grumbled.

Marcus brought his eyes up to yours. “Do it again?”

“What?”

“Do it again baby, that was… just do it again.”

You laughed, and Marcus looked confused. “Why are you laughing? That was kind of hot.”

“You’re joking, Marcus. That was not hot.”

You turned and hung up the washcloth, rinsing your face under the water. The hot spray hit the tops of your engorged boobs with a sharp prickling sensation. More milk started to flow in drips and drabs. You felt Marcus’s big hands slip around your waist and he nuzzled your neck.

“I’m not joking, and I want a taste.” His voice was low and deliberate, serious. He wasn’t joking. You felt his cock harden against your ass, warm and slick as he pressed himself against you. Marcus brought his hands up to cup your breasts, gently lifting them as he ran his fingertips over your nipples.

He sucked on your earlobe, “Will there be enough for her? If I taste some?” You nearly buckled, your knees going watery.

“Uh huh, yeah.” You put your hands on the cold tile wall, bracing yourself as you leaned forward into Marcus’s hands. You cleared your throat, “I overslept, so I’m really engorged. I didn’t want to wake her up so I was just going to, uhm-” You lost your train of thought as Marcus licked your ear and kissed your neck. “Um, express it- ohhh, express it in the shower.”

“Don’t you dare.” Marcus’s voice went lower than you had ever heard it, “I want it all, sweetheart. Every last drop.”

You gasped, feeling suddenly depraved and desired. A feeling you hadn’t felt in weeks, surging now through the fog of postpartum hormones and sleep deprivation. You and Marcus had tried a quick, giggly fumble on the couch the other night, seeing if everything still worked like it used to, but this was the first time in a long time that you’d felt aroused, felt sexy.

You leaned your back against his chest and reached behind you to stroke his length. He moaned low against your neck and reached one big hand down to slide two fingers into your pussy. You gasped again and bucked your hips against his hand.

Everything in you felt raw and primal, hormones foaming up to drive you back into your husband’s arms with a biochemical imperative to make another baby. Your cycle hadn’t returned yet, but that was no guarantee that you wouldn’t get pregnant. Condom, your brain stuttered, or blow job.

You turned around and kissed Marcus deeply, letting him hold you up as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He let go only to reach up and aim the showerhead away from you, letting the water run down the wall.

He knelt in front of you and took a nipple into his mouth, squeezing the breast with one hand. It was painful, and not quite the right rolling sensation that was needed to get the milk to let down fully. You peeled his hand away and brought both of your hands up around the breast, squeezing and rolling gently. You felt the letdown, the squirt, and you saw Marcus’s eyes go wide with surprise before he closed them and sucked gently. His other hand came up to tease you again between your legs. You moaned as a shudder wracked your body.

It was too much to try to stand and stay upright through the sensations that were wracking your body as the steam swirled around you. You put one hand on his shoulder and patted gently.

“Marcus. I need to sit down if we’re going to do this. I’m getting dizzy.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at you, not releasing your nipple just yet. His deep brown eyes were liquid with desire, and he nodded gently. He pulled off with a gentle suck and smiled up at you. “Bed?”

You nodded and turned to close the tap. Marcus stepped out and wrapped up, and then held his hand out to steady you as you stepped carefully out of the tub. He wrapped a big fluffy towel around you and kissed you deeply, his still-hard cock now pressing you through the towel around his waist.

He tasted buttery from your milk, sweet and soft. You felt the strangest sensation of completion, something like a circle closing around. It seemed so right that the man who had married you, fucked you, and fathered your child wanted this part of you. It was like he was claiming something that was his, that he had helped bring to fruition… the idea would have made zero sense to you before, and you barely had time to recognize the notion before it floated away again.

Marcus broke the kiss and rubbed you up and down with the towel to dry you off. He leaned into you, towering over you with a smile. “You gonna go to bed or do I have to carry you there?”

You bit your lip and smiled up at him through your lashes. “I’ll be good, no need to threaten me.”

You turned and felt him give a gentle smack to your butt. You giggled and walked into the bedroom. Marcus spread his towel across the bedspread and sat down, leaning back against the headboard.

You kneeled and straddled his lap as he kissed you from your lips to your neck to your breasts. Then he took your nipple into his mouth again, cupping your breast gently as he sucked. His warm brown eyes were fixed to yours as you watched his face. You felt the milk letdown almost immediately, flowing into his hot mouth. Your unattended breast started to leak a few drops onto your thigh. Marcus rubbed it into your skin with his big thumb until it disappeared.

You held your hands on his shoulders and shifted your hips as you felt yourself grow wetter with desire. His eyes were closed now, mouth working as if he were asleep. His cock was almost impossibly hard now, pressing up against your slit. If you shifted any more it would just slip inside. It was so tempting, but you couldn’t, not without protection. You forced yourself to stay still, to not slide your hips forward and down, to just sit still and feel the sensation of his penis as it nestled against your throbbing cunt.

You threw your head back with a moan. “Oh, god, Marcus!”

He pulled his mouth off and switched to the other side, sucking with his lips as he murmured around your nipple, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’ll give it to you... Anything you want, you and these perfect tits.”

“Unnhh… I want- oh god, I want you inside of me. Right now. Condom, baby- get a condom.”

Marcus let go and leaned over, reaching one long arm into the bedside table drawer and pulling out a foil square. You sat back and watched him roll it down. When he was covered you lifted your hips up and shuffled your knees forward. Marcus gripped himself with one hand and guided himself into you. You slid down with a deep, breathy groan.

“Oh, Marcus. Oh you feel so good!”

You put your hands on Marcus’s shoulders as he brought his hands back up to your breasts and cupped them, squeezing gently. “That’s it baby girl, that’s it. Ride me, sweetheart. Take anything you want.”

You bounced up and down harder, rolling your hips with each thrust as Marcus brought his mouth back to your nipples. You felt him suckle and moan, your nipples tingling with each vibration of his low voice.

He started murmuring to you, talking into the valley between your breasts as he laid kisses there, a stopping point as he switched from one nipple to the other.

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re so wet for me. I fucking love you and your perfect breasts, making milk for me and our baby. God, you’re fucking perfect.”

“Oh fuck, Marcus. Fuck me! I wanna come!”

“Not yet, sweetheart. I’ll let you come in just a minute. You’re fucking perfect. Keep going, baby girl.” He ducked his head back down to one breast, sucking harder now to stay attached as you bucked your hips in a sloppier rhythm.

Marcus felt so good against each breast, sucking out the pain of the engorgement, helping to deflate and defuse everything. Combined with the delicious stretch of him inside of you, you weren’t going to last long.

You wrapped one hand around the back of his head as he suckled against you, pressing his face into your breast. You pulled him off and leaned down to kiss him as you continued thrusting.

You whined into his mouth, “No, Marcus, baby. I need to come. I need you to make me come, please. Please please please.”

“Oh, you’re almost there, baby girl. Let me finish tasting you, sweetheart. Keep fucking yourself on me and I’ll let you come in just a minute. You can do it. You’re my perfect fucking girl.”

He ducked his head back down, and you started to feel the last of the milk draining out of that side, the ache as the breast emptied out. He switched over to the other breast and worked his mouth over the nipple, making you gasp and moan with the sensation of the harder suction. You felt a surge of the final letdown and then another aching, empty throb.

Marcus wrapped both hands around your waist and gripped you harder against him, matching your thrusts with his own. “Was that it, sweetheart? Did I empty all your milk?” He thrust harder up into you as he snarled, “You taste amazing. You’re my- good- fucking- girl.”

He leaned back slightly and brought one hand down to your mound, teasing soft circles with his thumb around your clit before he pressed down harder and started grinding your orgasm out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him take it out of you, your hips stuttering out the last of a choppy rhythm as you crested your peak and crashed over the other side.

You shouted out a wordless cry as you came, squeezing hard around his length as tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. Marcus wrapped both arms against your waist to help rock you back and forth. He clenched his teeth and huffed hot breaths against your sternum as he came, his face buried in your cleavage as you raked your fingers through his damp hair.

You both laughed out groans as you stilled, and you ducked your head to his to bite off kisses from his pouty mouth. He smelled like his shower gel and home and your sweet, buttery breastmilk and love. Your brain tossed up random notions connected with him. Husband. Marcus. Home.

You kissed him and kissed him until he was soft inside of you. And even then he refused to let go of your waist, murmuring sweet praises up into your mouth with a smile.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby girl. I didn’t know you could do that with your milk. If I’d known I was into that I would have asked you weeks ago.”

He bent his head to kiss the soft skin at the top of each breast, whispering almost to himself… “My perfect girl. I love you.”

---

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick

[just-here-for-the-moment]

I spun the wheel and got Frankie Morales/PV

(does a happy dance) maybe something with a plus size reader? Smutty and sweet, reassuring her he thinks she's gorgeous and sexy even if she's a double-digit size?

Oh my gosh I am so excited to write this up, AND I get very excited when I meet new Tumblr friends. Thank YOU for sending this in and for helping me celebrate 300 followers! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Here’s Frankie Morales with some real sweetness for his plus-sized honey, and some soft/smutty P/V sex under the cut!

(Fic Warnings: talk of plus-size body insecurity; unprotected P/V sex in the context of an established relationship)

Frankie Morales hadn’t had a lot of softness in his life. Circumstances outside of his control and some of the choices he had made in life meant that he’d endured hard things: hard men and hard floors and hard choices and hard losses. So when he returned to civilian life and started to rebuild, he wasn’t looking for softness, he thought the most he could expect, the most he could reasonably ask for was just the absence of ‘hard’... and then he met you. And you? You were soft in all of the ways that he needed, in all of the ways that it counted for him. And Frankie almost didn’t make that connection until a good while after you had been dating, when you were sleeping over at his place more often and he got to wake up next to you every weekend...

Frankie’s eyes popped open at 6:00 every morning, without an alarm, whether he wanted them to or not. And since you were more of a night owl it meant that he could watch you sleep, watch your soft lashes lay against your cheeks, watch your soft lips twitch in a secret kind of smile, watch the sheen of a little bit of drool catch the soft morning light (something you hated, but that Frankie found charming). He propped himself up on an elbow and lay on his side facing you, watching the light change as the sun crawled up and filtered through his curtains.

He watched your pillowy breasts beneath the thin material of your camisole rise and fall with your kitten-light breathing, just taking in the miracle of you being there with him, and then it hit him all at once: how soft you were, and how much he had missed that in his life. Not just in the times where he had known softness and lost it, but also in all of those alternate dimensions where a different choice might have led to a different life, and he suddenly ached for losing things he had never actually known. And then it occurred to Frankie that if anyone would understand what he was feeling it would be you, and that you would probably already know the Japanese term or some long German compound word for that feeling of “missing something you never had but wanted desperately.”

The ache of it made Frankie want to lean over and kiss you, but he wanted to let you sleep. So he reached out his free hand and draped it over your waist, just above where the curve of your belly met your hips, and he slid his broad hand up under the edge of your camisole to rest his palm against your warm skin.

Frankie reveled in the two kinds of ‘softness’ there: the velvety-soft surface of your skin stretched over the ‘softness’ he would feel if he gripped you hard or pushed the pads of his fingers into the depth of your flesh. Frankie loved squeezing you and palming you and kneading into you with his hands, he loved the way he could grab you hard enough on your hip to feel your pelvis there, the firmness of it making an anchor for his hands as he pounded into you from behind.

Frankie fought the urge to squeeze you now. His fingertips tingled, and the inability to give into the sensation he sought made him clench his jaw, grind his molars together for a moment. A quick burst of sensation shot up his cheeks, and the phantom feeling of your flesh on his tongue as he gently squeezed his hands into you made him moan.

And then a third kind of softness occurred to Frankie as he kept his hand on you and felt you sleeping underneath him. You were soft enough to love him, to let him touch you, you were gentle with his heart and his emotions, you were sweet and kind, but not weak or a pushover. You came to him with your heart open and your eyes clear, and you faced him straight on as he took his time to dance around you, test your boundaries until he was sure you didn’t bite. And then he was all in.

And then Frankie realized a fourth kind of softness, one that he often had trouble acknowledging because he was reluctant to admit his good points: his own ability to love you back. To listen to how you responded when he touched you, to move his trigger-trained fingers slowly as he learned your curves. To kiss you with reverence and syrupy-slow admiration even when all he wanted to do was devour you whole and take you inside of himself, to swallow you up as a means of carrying your softness with him. He didn’t trust that he was soft enough or good enough when you weren’t around.

He lay in the pale morning light and marveled at how you had brought all of this softness into his life in just a few short months, tapping cracks and chinks into a hard shell he hadn’t even known was there. You didn’t offer him a tray overloaded with goodness and force him to take ‘too much’ or more than he was comfortable with - you simply slept softly next to him and let your floral scent and your warm smile and your feminine curves seep into his life, like a visitor slipping contraband sweets between the bars to a prisoner.

Frankie felt the urge to kiss you awake and this time he didn’t fight it. He simply shifted over to you and pressed his mouth to yours in a gesture of worship and devotion, and his heart stirred as he heard your breath rise and felt your gravelly murmur against his lips.

“Mmm,” you kissed him back and Frankie felt his heart open wide. It still amazed him every time you actually kissed back; he always half-expected a kick from life instead of a kiss. Your arm came up and around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft curls at the back of his head.

Your voice was low and gritty from sleep, and Frankie felt his cock twitch in his boxers. “Morn’ baby… what time is it?” You yawned and stretched and rolled facing away from him, tucking your hips back against his crotch with a wiggle. Frankie felt his breath catch and he resisted the urge to grind hard against you.

“Early,” he kissed you under your ear and murmured against your soft and sweet-smelling neck. “Early-early. Sorry I woke you up.”

You patted the back of his arm where it was wrapped tight around your belly. “S’okay, baby… dj’you sleep good?”

Frankie buried his nose further into your neck and inhaled deeply, taking in every part of you before he exhaled in a deep hum. “Yeah, you?”

You were almost asleep again, “Hmmm,” was all you could reply.

Frankie wrapped his arm tighter around your middle and pulled you back towards him.

“Baby, no,” you murmured. You reached down to his arm and pulled it looser, moving it to sling low across your hips. “Not my tummy.”

“Why not?”

“It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Did I squeeze you too hard? Are you gonna barf?” Frankie’s voice was laced with so much concern that you felt bad.

“No, baby, I just…” You trailed off, not sure how to tell the man who loved you that there was a part of yourself that you hated. Although maybe ‘hated’ was too strong a word, you mostly just ignored that part of your anatomy in favor of paying attention to your ‘better features’ like your boobs and your ass and your face. Would he even understand? Would any man?

You knew that Frankie had his own self-doubts, but they ran in the vein of existential and spiritual concerns, like whether his actions during his military service had completely destroyed his humanity or whether he was still a good person. Compared to that you felt vain and shallow, didn’t even dare voice to him how you felt about your ample belly or your waist or the way you hated how your arms looked in pictures. And it wasn’t even all the time, really.

Most of the time you were busy and happy and outgoing, and you delved so deeply into your work and your passions and your friends that the size tag in your jeans or which section of the store you had to shop in didn’t bother you. If you had to quantify it, you were pretty happy with your body about 95% of the time, but sometimes that 5%... it stung. And now you had the most gorgeous man in the world wrapped around you, and you couldn’t find the words to tell him that his big, warm hands on your belly made your skin crawl. Because how do you say that without hurting him?

You shifted and tried again, “I just, I don’t really like my tummy.” You bit your lip and stopped yourself from saying more.

“Really? Why not?” Frankie seemed genuinely confused, like you had just said you didn’t like puppies.

“I just don’t. Can we drop it?”

You rolled to face him again. Fuck it, might as well say everything, and to his face to boot. He looked concerned, head propped up on his elbow as he looked at you.

“Look, I’m just bigger, that’s all, and I don’t like my stomach. I hardly ever touch it and it feels weird letting you touch it.”

You saw his frown creep in between those soft brown eyes and you felt like a monster. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Frankie. I just don’t like it. It's my least favorite part of me.”

“Really? Because I love it.”

You searched his face for the punchline, waiting for him to make fun of your body or your insecurity. A heartbeat passed and you suddenly realized he was serious. “You what?”

“I love it. I love you.” Frankie leaned his head to kiss you softly and moved his hand up to your belly. “It’s part of you and I love you, so I love your tummy, too.”

“You do not.”

“Don’t tell me I do not, I do!” He flexed his fingers a bit to grip the soft mound just below your belly button and you fought the urge to grab his hand and pull it away. “I love this.”

Frankie laid a kiss to your lips and ran his hand down to your hip and squeezed softly, “And I love this.”

His hand continued its journey around to your ass, where he gripped a handful and squeezed hard. “And I love this.” He kissed you again.

Frankie ran his hand down the back of your thigh and flexed his fingers again, grabbing the softness just above the bend in your knee. Another kiss as he murmured to you, “And I love this.”

He brought his hand around to the front of your leg and trailed his fingers up to your panties, stopping to slide his middle finger between the V of your thighs. “And I love this.” He kissed you again, open-mouthed and a little longer this time.

He pulled his finger out and ran the broad flat of his palm up your abdomen, “And don’t forget that I love this part, it’s very important that you remember that. Okay?” He kissed you again.

Your voice sounded high and breathy to your own ears when he pulled away, “Okay.”

Frankie skated his hand up to your breasts and gave each one a reverent squeeze, “And I looove these.” He kissed you again, tongue probing your mouth for reassurance.

He walked his fingers up to your jaw and cupped it, looking deep into your eyes. “You hear me, beautiful? I love all of you. You’re sweet and you’re kind and you’re smart. You love me and I love you.” He pressed his forehead to yours and hummed contentedly. “You’re not allowed to hate any part of yourself while I’m around, got it?”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Good.” Frankie pulled away and then rolled you onto your back. He kneeled and reached for the waistband of your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs. “Can I show you how much I love you?” He grinned, flashing that dimple in his scruff, plush lips curving up boyishly. You loved him with all your heart.

“Yes, Frankie baby… show me.”

He pulled your panties off your ankles and then pulled his boxers off. His thick cock was half hard, and you watched with lust as he gripped it and pumped himself until he was full. You longed to feel every inch of him all at once, in your mouth and your pussy and your hands. You moaned at the ache and the wet that were surging through your core. You opened your legs wider for him, dizzy with anticipation.

Frankie lowered himself, bracing above you on one arm as he used his other hand to guide his firm head to your entrance. You felt him tip his cock, running it along your seam to gather your slick, spreading your wetness around. It was a kind of delicious torture, the waiting and the anticipation of him plunging in, and the way that he felt so good just rubbing his cock against your throbbing clit. Back and forth, up and down he went, until you wanted to wiggle and whine at the emptiness of your throbbing cunt.

He finally lined up and thrust himself inside of you. You threw your head back and moaned at his intrusion, at the way he filled you up and pumped himself in, hitting that just-right spot of you behind your pubic bone; the deep spongy spot that felt like he was hitting the back of your throat with every thrust.

Frankie hitched one of your legs up over his hip and rocked even deeper into you. He leaned down over your face and kissed you deeply, reverently; like he was trying to take you completely into himself and not lose a single moment with you. You forgot to breathe for a moment until Frankie pulled back and thrust his hips into you just so and looked deeply into your eyes. You drowned in his deep brown orbs, and then he did it again, that little rock of his hips that finally pulled a gasp from your lungs and then you remembered how to breathe again.

“I love you, Frankie. I love you, I love you I love you I love you.” Your words ran together in a babble and you would have kept going except that Frankie plunged his head down to take your tongue into his mouth and you thought you’d cry from the closeness of it all.

He pulled his mouth off and rested his forehead against yours, running one big hand down to pull the back of your knee up higher. You looked deep into his eyes and melted completely as he whispered to you. To you and only you, and it was just you and Frankie, hearts thrumming together as you lurched from one moment to the next...

“I love you.”

[just-here-for-the-moment]

congrats on 300 followers claire! you deserve it you're amazing i love youuuuu! i did you awesome wheel spin thingy and i got oberyn motherfucking martel and size kink holy fucking shit i am horny for that man and so excited about this one!! can you write me something about how oberyn would call me his sweet little thing and wreck my pussy??? aggsadfihbsdflhksdb you're the best love you!!

Ohhhhhh my god Jo.

Jo, Jo, Jo... I hope I did this justice, because this Ask combination is 🔥🔥🔥

Here's your Oberyn "size kink" filth under the cut... enjoy!

You were sitting on your favorite courtyard bench, reading a volume of poetry when you looked up and saw your Prince striding toward you. He greeted you with that slow smile as he looked you up and down, closing the distance across the courtyard. You shut your book and stood up to greet him.

When he stood next to you he towered over you, and you had to lean back to meet his eyes. He wrapped both of his large hands around your upper arms and squeezed, inclining his mouth to your ear to murmur, "Hello, my sweet little friend. Do you have some time to spend with your Prince this afternoon?"

Your breath caught and you couldn't speak, but you nodded. He plucked the book of poetry from your hands and gave it an approving nod. He said something about how much he loved it, but you missed his words... your eyes were fixated on how small the book looked in his hand. It was a volume that you had to hold open with both hands, but he held it between his thumb and fingers like it was a slip of parchment.

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked, and you shivered at how it nearly spanned your whole waist. You grew more dizzy and damp the closer you got to his bedchambers. When you arrived he sent the others away, claiming that he was tired and wanted a "calmer afternoon" than yesterday. He undressed himself and sat on the bed, pulling you close so that you stood between his knees.

You put your hands on his broad shoulders, thick from years of training. The Prince ran his fingers up through all of your laces and layers, effortlessly undoing every knot and slip of fabric. When you were bare, with your clothing pooled at your feet, he put his large hands on your waist, his fingers nearly meeting at the back.

He pulled you close and leaned his cheek against your breast as you stroked his head and soothed him with soft words. His hands drifted down, and you loved the way each of his broad hands nearly fully cupped each side of your bottom. He lifted his face to yours, and you admired his handsome face, his lovely lips, and the mischievous twinkle in his deep brown eyes. The size difference was noticeable here, too. You barely had to incline your head to place soft kisses to his lips.

He suddenly scooped you off your feet and carried you in both arms around the end of the bed to the other side of the room. A large mirror was stood there, and the Prince placed you to stand and face it. He stood behind you and stroked your shoulders and your arms, reaching his large hands around to cup your breasts and roll your nipples between his broad fingers.

"Look at yourself, my sweet girl. You're so beautiful. I love how tiny you look in my arms." He lifted one of your arms to curve up and behind his neck, and he ran his fingers down to your hips. He put two fingers into the V of your sex and spread you open in front of the mirror. Two of his fingers filled you and felt like three of your own.

The Prince reached to the bed and tossed a large, flat cushion on the floor in front of the mirror. He sat on it and turned his side to the mirror. "Come here, my sweet girl. I want you to watch yourself as we pleasure each other."

You took his hand and let him guide you until you were straddling his lap. He stroked his manhood until it was hard and hot, and then he held himself in one thick fist as you began to sink down onto him. You threw your head back and closed your eyes as his hard cock entered you. The stretch of him was decadent, filling you completely as you completed your descent.

"No, no, my little friend. Open your eyes, watch us in the mirror." You opened your eyes, following his order to turn your head toward the reflection. You saw your own lust-blown eyes at half mast, your lips parted in ecstasy, breaths coming shallow and quick as you began to pump him with your hips.

You watched in the mirror and felt him lick a long stripe from your sternum up to your chin, and you loved how his large hands wrapped around you; one cupping your bottom to guide you up and down, the other wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you in place and grounding you as your senses threatened to flee completely.

"Now, my sweet little thing, show me what you can do. Let me feel every part inside of you as you take your pleasure on me."

[just-here-for-the-moment]

I spun the wheel…

Marcus Pike. SK.

Congrats on 300 followers!

❤️

Thank YOU so much for helping me celebrate 300 followers!!

Get ready for some extra-soffft, meet-cute, domestic fluff, Marcus Pike size kink headcanon under the cut!!

The first time Marcus saw you, he was sitting at a table on the patio of a café. He put his phone down to people-watch, and there you were… a small woman getting dragged along the sidewalk by an enormous St. Bernard.

Marcus stood up to help you, but then he realized that it would be weird to leap over the little wrought-iron railing of the café, and anyway it looked like you were getting the situation under control.

You were tiny, especially compared to the huge beast, but you planted your feet and gave the dog a firm command in your deepest, most serious voice. The dog stopped pulling and you gave it some scratches behind the ear and murmured, “Good boy,” in a sweet voice.

You double-wrapped the leash in your fist and pulled the dog close to your hip with a firm, “Stay. Be good,” before you started walking again, and Marcus realized you may be petite, but you meant business.

Something hit Marcus in the chest when you turned your head and smiled at him as you walked by. He couldn’t help but turn and watch you stride away, back straight and head held high as you led the giant dog down the sidewalk.

And then Marcus realized that he had been so awestruck by you that he hadn’t even smiled back. And he felt so down, like he had missed his chance. He debated calling out to you, to say… what? Oh God, you would think he was a total weirdo. He shook his head at himself and turned back to his coffee.

And then the next Saturday there you were again. No dog, just you and your sunny smile and a big bag of groceries slung over your shoulder in a canvas tote. And he looked up from his phone just in time to catch your eye as you walked by the cafe’s patio. And Marcus desperately wanted to say something, but all he could think of was, “Nice dog.”

And to his extreme shock and chagrin, you stopped and looked at him over the top of the wrought-iron railing; the three-foot tall section of fence that put up a society-polite barrier between the cafe patrons and the rest of the world. And you had a tiny little frown as you tilted your head to the side and said, “Excuse me?”

And Marcus wanted to die of embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it was out there now, and shit shit shit… what to do now? He recovered as best he could. “I- I saw you with a dog last week. It was a nice dog.” Marcus begged the Universe to send him a shovel so that he could dig a hole to crawl into.

But then to his surprise, you smiled wider and said, “Thanks! It’s my neighbor’s hell-beast. I’m trying to train it because my neighbors are useless. They don’t train him very well and they’re paying me to work my magic on him.”

You stuck your hand out and gave him your name. And when Marcus took your hand over the railing he loved how firmly you shook. Compared to the size difference between his hand and yours, he half-expected to crush you, but you shook hands just as confidently as you took command of huge dogs.

And then he said, “I’m Marcus.” And he was utterly confused when you threw your head back and laughed the brightest, most sparkling laugh he had ever heard. Were you laughing at him?

And you finally settled yourself enough to shake the tears from your eyes and said, “That’s the dog’s name, too!” And then you shot off into more peals of laughter and Marcus couldn’t help but laugh too.

And you didn’t have anywhere to be, and Marcus the human was pretty handsome and seemed nice. So when he asked if you would like to join him for a coffee you said, “Yes!” and flashed him the brightest smile he’d ever seen someone send his way.

And that was it for both of you - fireworks and shooting stars and lighting bolts. And so you sat for an hour and got to know each other, and the fireworks melted down into gentler fireflies and butterflies in both your bellies. And then at the end of the date he walked you home and kissed you at your door…

And now it’s half a year later and you’re wrapped in his arms in bed, and Marcus still can’t get over how tiny you are physically but how big you are in your personality and your cheer and your charm. Your big smile and your big love and the way that your passion for life dwarfs his. He thought he had a zest for life but then you came along and showed him how BIG life really was.

And he holds one big hand up and lays it flat against yours, palm to palm, just marveling at the size difference, still, like the first time you playfully put your hand against his to compare. And he can’t get over it, he just wants to hold your hand against his for the rest of his life, drinking in the sight of your smallness when compared to his own big hand.

And Marcus, sweet romantic that he is… he can’t help but start daydreaming about your future together, and what your kids would look like. And he thinks about a family photo twenty years from now, you with your arms tucked around the waist of a very tall son in his high school graduation cap and gown, and the boy has your smile and Marcus’s brown eyes and he utterly dwarfs you with his arm slung over your shoulders…

And maybe a daughter, too, a few years younger than the boy. And she has Marcus's hair and your tinkling laugh, but she shot way up in height during a growth spurt and now she’s 16 and tall like her dad and plays volleyball like a beast because she also has your won’t-back-down-from-a-challenge personality.

And the four of you are grinning into the camera with twenty years of love streaming behind you and Marcus like the wake of a boat skimming along on the water...

And then he sighs and snuggles into your neck, tucks his big legs tighter behind your small ones, spoons you closer, nibbles your ear. And he asks you if you want to go get coffee? And you do, and you always say the same thing: “I need a huge one. The biggest one they have, Marcus.”

And he smiles because there’s that big/small of you again. Your tiny hand wrapped around the huge takeout coffee that fuels your big energy, as you let Marcus the dog run to the very end of his leash out ahead of you, and let Marcus the human wrap his large hand around your waist and walk through life with you.

--- Tagging some of the petite ladies who told me they enjoyed the Dave York size kink post: @omlwhatamidoinghere @mandocrasis @pintsizemama @littlepadika @oceanablue @missredherring @studyofawearymind @axshadows

[just-here-for-the-moment]

A few spins have unearthed these challenges for our boys Pero & Din…

Pero PV

Din MO

*RELEASE THE FICTION*

OMG ok Here’s “making out” with Din drabble, and then I’ll combine your Pero Tovar P/V sex with another Pero P/V request that’s in the works!

Here’s a female reader “sucking face” with Mando/Din Djarin below the cut! :D

(Fic warning: Blindfold goes on so that helmet can come off.)

You’ve been working on the ship with Mando for months, using your quick thinking and your small hands to help him reach wires and widgets that he just can’t get to, even if he takes his gloves off. If he were going to admit your other good points, you were also really good with the kid, and it sometimes made Mando sad that you were the one Grogu reached out to first after a nap, instead of him.

This man lives in solitude, and he didn’t think he needed anyone, until he picked you up outside of a busy market one sunny afternoon. Your smile had caught his interest, and then your sharp comment about a damaged panel on his ship had gotten his attention.

After bantering back and forth, you finally convinced Mando to let you make some repairs in exchange for passage off the desert planet where you’d been staying. It had been a quiet respite for you over the past few months, but now you were ready to move on to the next stop in your nomadic lifestyle.

Mando had agreed, half-amused, thinking that you would do the repair job badly and he would have an excuse to drop you on the nearest planet with a transport hub. Instead, you had made repairs so quickly with the scant materials on hand and suggested two improvements so detailed, that he was intrigued.

Mando headed for the nearest planet with a large city and rented you a hangar for the afternoon. He wanted to see what you could do with the right equipment. You improved his fuel efficiency and repaired four nagging problems that he had put off. When you sauntered over to where he and the kid were sitting, wiping your greasy hands on a rag, Grogu reached out to you for ‘uppies’ and that was it. Mando swallowed his astonishment and admiration and buried them under a deadpan, “Good work, I guess. You want a job?”

If you had known how few people he had let into his life over the past decades… how everyone else he met treated him with respect laced heavily with fear... how solitary and reserved he was, even when compared to other Mandalorians? You would have taken the whole thing way more seriously. You would’ve had some kind of inkling of what you were getting into.

But you didn’t know. You had no idea, so you shot right back with a quip, took him down a peg or two, insulted his pay rate in a joking manner, threatened to steal Grogu away as payment for the repairs, and then you christened Mando “Lori” and refused to call him anything else. And that was it, he was half in love with you already.

And now here you were, woven into his daily fabric like the little guy. You were a companion, an employee, and after just a few short weeks, a friend. Mando did his best to ignore those little nagging feelings of “something more” like an itch he could never reach under his armor, until one day...

You were standing in the passageway loading supplies into the cabinets, and with crates on the floor and doors flung open there was very little room to get by. And because Mando is big but stealthy, silent on his feet somehow, you didn’t notice that he was approaching until you turned and bent over, and your ass bumped into his crotch and he just, froze- hesitated for a split second (longer than he had ever hesitated before, because in a fight a moment of hesitation like that would have gotten him killed).

You made a surprised little noise, and he reached his hands out to grab your hips so you wouldn’t fall over, and - just for a nanosecond - he really didn’t want to let go. He wanted to dig his gloved fingers further into your flesh and hold you close, draw you into him like a lover.

You knew him well enough by now to notice that little hitch in his breath, the way his voice changed tone and went lower as he asked if you were okay. You noticed the way his visor tilted down to your face just a moment longer than usual whenever he looked at you over the next few days.

You didn’t push him, didn’t force a confrontation or ask him if things were okay… but you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t noticed how he grabbed you, or said that you hadn’t enjoyed it. You were intrigued by Mando, curious and definitely attracted to that voice, the strength, the skill.

And the more you watched him interact with everyone else and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that he treated you with a softness and respect that mirrored how he treated Grogu. And that made your heart feel warm in a way that it hadn’t in years.

And so one quiet night in the hushed cockpit, when the kid was out cold in his crib down below and it was nearly your own bedtime, you waited for just the right moment. You saw Mando flick some switches and set the ship to autopilot for a few hours, so you wrapped up your knitting and set the basket down. And when Mando swung his pilot’s chair around to face you, you sat up straighter in your seat, and you set your eyes directly on the black of his visor, making (you hoped) eye contact.

You watched Mando’s whole body go still, watched him tilt his helmet a millimeter to one side, an unspoken question of why you were staring at him, why you were so silent when normally you were chatty when it was time to say goodnight. The moment stretched out, longer than the distance between stars. You were afraid to breathe for breaking the silence that suddenly bloomed sacred between you.

And then you couldn’t hold your breath anymore, and you sighed, a little tiny sound that shattered the quiet of the cockpit, and then Mando was on his feet and hauling you up out of your chair in a rough embrace. He wrapped his arms tight around your ribs, his visor held so close to your face that you thought you would go dizzy from staring into your own reflection, warped and bent in the inky black spaces of his helmet. You put your hands on his upper arms, and you gripped his biceps through the black fabric of his flight suit, hanging onto his solid form to try to avoid fainting.

“Lor- I mean, Mando, I-” But he cut you off, his voice lower and more gritty than you had ever heard it.

“Din.”

“What?”

“You call me Din.”

You tested the strange syllable for the first time, letting it roll off the tip of your tongue like a delicacy. "... Din."

“I can’t show you my face.” His voice was still low, but there was something brand new behind it, like he was in pain and was straining to get through the words. “... but if you want me, if you want this, we can negotiate.”

“... negotiate.” You echoed him, trying to think through the new situation, the aching throb in your cunt that made you want to do whatever it took to feel even an inch of his bare skin against yours.

“Can you put something over your eyes? Can you do that for me?” His huge arms were still wrapped around you like a vise, holding you up and against him, and for a moment he hugged you just a bit tighter. “But only if you want to. You say ‘no’ and this is all over. I’ll leave you alone and I’ll never mention it again.”

Your brain sparked with a stream of panicked thoughts. You’d have to leave the ship. There was no way you’d be able to stop this in its tracks and face him again in the daylight of the next pit stop. You couldn’t leave the little green guy, abandon the warmth and stability that you had found here. Leave the first man who had ever treated you like an equal. No way.

You nodded and put every ‘yes’ in your soul into your next words. “I want you, Din. Blindfolded or not, I want you.”

Din didn’t release his hold on you right away, simply standing and still staring down at you, giving no hint of what he might be thinking. You got the sense that he was searching your face, scanning you for insincerity or uncertainty. After a moment he let you go, told you to sit down, close your eyes. You did.

You heard him shuffle his fingers around in a pocket or a pouch, heard him kneel on the floor in front of you, felt him stroke your cheek with the back of his gloved fingers. Then he wrapped a piece of folded cloth around your eyes and tied a tight knot behind your head.

“Is that okay?” His voice was softer.

You breathed out, a soft, “Yeah.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

You tried to open your eyes under the blindfold, but only got them open halfway. “Can’t see a thing. Can’t even open my eyes under here.”

“Good.” And then you heard a hiss, a faint clink, and two soft thuds and you felt his warm hands cup your cheeks and then Din’s mouth was on yours and he was soft and gentle and you didn’t want to scare him off by touching him, so you kept your hands folded in your lap.

And he kissed you again and again. Taking little nips of you and sighing softly as his kisses landed, stroking your skin with his thumbs, and every now and then making a delicate noise at the top of his throat: something like a moan or a whimper, except happy. You were overwhelmed by the way that his soft mustache tickled your skin, the realization that he even had a mustache, the way his broad, calloused hands cupped your jaw like a delicate treasure. You felt that sense of time stretching out, like if you just sat still and took in every sensation and catalogued them, that the experience might actually last forever.

You leaned into kissing Din like he was a soft bed or a hot-springs pool, something to be enjoyed because of the rarity of it. Only you hoped this wouldn’t be the only time, the last time. Your heart swelled and then the passage of time kicked in again and you were filled with melancholy that this was going to end. You mourned the loss of it while it was still going on.

And then it was over. He pulled away from you and you heard the soft clink again as he picked up his helmet to put it back on, and you heard him shuffle his gloves back in place and then kneel down in front of you once more.

You felt his gloved hands reach around your head, tugging at the knot, and then the cloth fell free. You blinked your eyes at the shift, the stars outside and the little buttons and low lights of the cockpit suddenly too bright. And there he was in front of you, helmeted once more, the silver and black visor hiding everything except his voice. He rested his hands on the arms of your seat, and then simply said, “Thank you.”

You nodded, too kissed out and blissed-over to think. You felt groggy and slow, like you had just awakened from a dream. But you smiled at him, and then you reached your hand out, slowly and gently, and placed it on the side of his visor, the closest you could get to cupping his cheek with your palm. He leaned into it, and then you heard him sigh.

“Din-” And there was that strange syllable again, tripping off your tongue like you were learning to speak all over again. But you could get used to it. You wanted to get used to it.

He nodded at you, waiting for you to speak, listening to you as you searched for your words.

“I still want you. Please tell me that you don’t regret this. That we can do it again.”

He brought his leather-clad fingers up to your hand and wrapped them around yours where you were still touching his helmet.

“We can.”

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Congrats on the followers my friend!! You deserve all of them and many more!

I'd like to request a little something with Javier Peña, with the prompt "I can't stop thinking about you" (from dialogue prompts to make readers swoon). I'll let you decide how sweet or spicy it is, just however it strikes you. 😘

Thank you, and congrats again!!

Oh my gosh, JEN!!!! I love you so much! I hope you enjoy this slow-burn, sprinkling-of-angst-with a happy ending!

Here is a sweet "confessional" story for Javier x female DEA agent under the cut!!

The bar was half-empty, or half-full, you weren’t quite sure. And maybe it didn’t matter anyway, since you only had eyes for the man with the mustache across the table from you. He stubbed out his 5th (or was it 6th?) cigarette of the night into the amber glass ashtray on the table. You watched him purse those perfect lips and blow the stream of smoke up and away from the booth. His coffee-brown eyes came back to yours, the depths of them muted in the blue neon lights. You stared just a beat too long, and then blinked.

You shifted your attention to the table and stirred the last of your drink with your straw, watching the half-melted ice swirl in a lazy circle. Maybe tonight you would tell him how you felt. You lifted your eyes just in time to see Javier turn his head away from you to watch a very attractive woman walk by. He followed her with his eyes until she was out the front door.

Maybe not.

Javier turned back to you and waved over your head at the waitress for another round.

“You really want to stay?” You couldn’t hide the little bladed edge of irritation in your voice. Whether you stayed at the bar or not, you didn’t want to be around Javier any longer than you had to. You saw enough of him at work, and you weren’t interested in being his ‘pity date’ on a Friday night just because Steve couldn’t make it out for drinks.

Javier frowned at you, “I thought we were supposed to be celebrating tonight, amiga. Big win with the arrest warrant this week, remember? Why are you so cranky?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, and then rubbed your tired eyes. “It’s been a long week, and I just don’t feel very festive tonight. Okay?”

The waitress brought your drinks and Javier tossed a few bills on her tray. You picked up your third drink (fourth?) and watched Javier watch the waitress walk away. You downed your drink in record time and stood. “Right, I’m going home.”

“Already? We just got here.”

You snapped, “No, you just got here, I’ve been here all night, watching you watch other women. Not as much fun for me as it was for you. I’m done.”

You made for the ladies room and peed, then sat there for an extra two minutes, hoping that Javi would be gone by the time you got back out. You only got up when another woman needed the stall. You washed your hands as slowly as you dared, then dried them carefully and reapplied your lip balm at a snail’s pace. The face in the mirror looking back at you was your own, just sadder and more tired than you had seen her in a while.

When you finally emerged, Javier was right there waiting for you. He was leaning back against the wall opposite the ladies room, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. Anyone who didn’t know him well would have thought he looked casual. You knew he was pissed off. The moment you swung the ladies room door open and stepped out, his dark eyes were on yours. It took your breath away, just for a moment, but that was long enough for him to unfold himself and take your upper arm in his strong grip.

“I’ll make sure you get home safe. I can’t let you travel home this late by yourself, Agent.” Agent. Fuck, he really was pissed.

You didn’t argue, partly because you knew he was in that mood, and partly because of the sensation of his hand, large and warm, wrapped firmly around your arm just above your elbow. It wasn’t painful, but something about feeling how strong his hands were, how he gripped you sent your mind running to the same places it had been running to for months.

Javier propelled you out of the bar to his car, opening the front passenger side door and standing like a sentry until you were tucked in and belted, then he closed the door with a pop. Neither one of you spoke until he parked the car on the ground floor of the garage at the DEA apartment block. Your apartment was just down the hall from Steve and Connie, two floors up from Javier. It was cozy, mostly. Nice to have neighbors who you already knew. Not nice when someone had a crush on someone else and couldn’t avoid them.

Javier turned the engine off and broke the silence first, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You bit your lips together and nodded, sucking in a deep breath through your nose. Bad idea. The smell of Javier settled deep in your sinuses and stayed there: his cologne and cigarettes and the breath mint he was chewing, and something uniquely him, all of them mixing and intensified in the still air of the car. You blew the long breath out through your mouth and it took most of your hurt feelings with it.

You turned to him but you both spoke at the same time and chaos reigned for a moment.

“Why didn’t you want me looking at-”

“I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, you go first-”

“No, you can- Wait, what?”

Normally you would have laughed together and cleared the air, one of you deferring to the other to speak first. This time there was something tense. You had been on the verge of apologizing for snapping at him, a means of smoothing things over while sweeping your own discomfort under the rug. You’d hoped that if you could apologize for being sharp, you could get back to ‘normal’ and just be work partners. Like how it was before your heart got in the way. You thought maybe if you just did that enough, buried everything deeply enough, Javier would never guess how you felt.

And if Javier had been any other man, that might have worked. But he wasn’t the type to feign shyness to help ease your own shyness. Another man might have chuckled and looked away from you, played with his hands on the steering wheel to pass a few awkward seconds. Javier used those deep brown eyes to pierce your defenses and asked you the direct question you had been dreading since your outburst at the bar.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at other women?”

You paused, keeping your breathing even. You blinked a few times but you didn’t look away.

“I don’t care. Look at whoever you want. It’s none of my business.” A lie. And he knew it. And worse yet, you knew that he knew it.

“No amiga, you do care. Or at least you did half an hour ago.” You hated how intense he could be, so calm on the outside while he drew secrets out of panicked people via interrogation. “What is it that you don’t want me to know? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” You put a hard backing to your next words. “Drop it.”

You turned and opened your door, not waiting for Javier to follow as you speed-walked from his car across the parking garage. You slammed through the door to the lobby and took the stairs two at a time to your floor, telling yourself it was necessary exercise, part of staying in shape for foot chases… not avoidance, not the fear of facing Javier and telling him your embarrassing truth. You heard his footsteps land a moment behind yours, and you didn’t bother holding the stairwell door for him. He caught it on the backswing and was just a step behind you as you approached your door.

“I can get inside from here just fine. Good night.” You spoke your words to the keys in your hand, to your doormat, anywhere but to him.

He reached a hand out to hold your wrist, and it was the most gentle touch he had ever laid on you. It matched his low murmur of, “Hey. Wait…”

You turned to face him, and you opened your mouth to repeat the lies, the denials, to try to say something that would brush over tonight’s embarrassment with a clean sweep and let you face yourself and him in the morning. But the look on his face, the way his eyes were soft instead of probing, the whisper of his touch on your wrist when normally he was rough with his high fives and his handshakes… suddenly your voice didn’t work.

Javier looked at you the way that you had hoped for months that he would look at you, but it wasn’t how you wanted this to go. This painful reveal of innermost secrets and feelings. You wanted him to want you, to be bowled over by you, not to pity you or treat you like an idiot. But still, that look on his face, it struck something deep within you and you decided that you would take that look however you could get it.

You opened your mouth to speak and so did Javier, but this time instead of speaking at cross purposes, instead of a jumble of words tumbling into each other, you both said the exact same thing...

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Heat rose in your face at your own admission, at your absolute sureness that he would peel away from you, be upset at you for feeling too much, but the minute you realized his own words had matched yours, you felt the heat in your face ebb away, and before you could process it, before you could think, Javier mumbled a quick, “Fuck it,” and then his hand was on your waist and you were being pulled into his arms and you just went limp and let him kiss you.

The instant his second kiss landed, your brain came back to life and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him as deeply as you could, not breaking off even when your next-door neighbor’s apartment door opened, not when it closed again with a soft bang, and not until you felt Javier’s erection grazing your hip.

You finally broke the kiss, breathing out a high-pitched, “Inside?”

Javier grabbed you firmly around the waist and pulled you tighter. “Inside.” His voice was nearly a growl, and you felt your panties get hot and wet.

You took Javier inside your apartment, slamming the door behind you. And you finally confessed everything, with your lips and your body and your legs wrapped around him until the small hours of the morning.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

FOR YOUR 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION: PLEASE LET THIS BE WHAT I THINK IT IS.

Also,

QUICA!!!! My other half and my platonic soulmate and my Queen!! I hope this is as 🔥HOT🔥 as you imagined and that you enjoy every word!! I love you so much!!!

(Pero Tovar GIF by @nicolethered from her GIPHY channel)

Pero "Grumpy Spaniard" Tovar x Breeding Kink after the cut!

This was the third night after your wedding, and like the first two nights, Pero wasted no time in tumbling back into bed with you as soon as the sun had set.

When you first encountered the reticent Spaniard nearly a year ago, he had been silent and sour, keeping everyone at arm's length unless they had food or supplies that he needed. But as you began to see him around the village each week, and then each day, you started to pass him silent smiles and sidelong glances. Before long he began to seek you out, to sit with you as you knit or mended in the evenings, or to offer his help with heavier loads.

Over time, you found that the shell he had built was rock-hard against another man's sword blows or the hardships of mercenary life, but that you could crack it with a single tap of your delicate finger. Pero had been slow to recognize how deep his feelings ran, and what that meant, but before long he found his heart blooming under your soft touch. He wrestled with the idea until he finally realized that there was no other option. He was older and (he hoped) wiser, and Pero decided that he was ready to stay still in one place and watch the seasons change. And now that you were wed he wanted nothing more than to start a family, to fulfill the promise he had made to you to be yours as fully as you were his.

You lay naked with him in the heat of the summer evening, looking deeply into each other's eyes as you kissed and caressed. Pero lay on his back with his head turned to you, tucked against his side with your head propped up on one hand. The chamber grew dim as the daylight receded, and a single lamp on the table near the bed threw soft yellow light across your bodies. You could sense Pero's impatience as you indulged in slow kisses, and then he finally spoke his desires aloud.

"Come, mi amor. Let me enter you and give you a child. We must do more than simply join our mouths together."

You laughed and stroked his face. "Patience, my love. All in good time." You let your hand stroke lazily down his abdomen to his hard member, taking it in your hand and gripping it firmly as you moved up and down his length.

Pero sucked in a sharp hiss of breath as he bent his head back against the pillow and groaned. "Mi amor," he grabbed your wrist and brought it to his lips for a kiss. "If you continue in such a way I will spill my seed. Come." With one swift motion Pero rolled you onto your back and slotted his legs between yours, pushing them open as you gasped and giggled.

He trailed two fingers through your sex and felt how wet you were. "You are ready, no? Let me spill inside of you. I want to watch you grow round with my baby, here," He placed one broad palm flat over your belly, "and here." He lifted his hand to cup your breast and grinned.

You opened your legs wider and gently stroked his face, pulling him down into a soft, sweet kiss, then whispered, "Yes, my love. Spill your seed inside of me and I will carry your child... all of your children."

Pero groaned against your lips and you felt his cock twitch into the soft flesh of your thigh. He gripped himself in one large hand and guided his hard length to your entrance. You met his eyes as he entered you, and you gasped at the delicious stretch of him, the slide of every inch of him as he filled you.

You rocked your hips together in a hastening rhythm as you moaned into each other's mouths. Pero traded slips of Spanish for your adoring kisses as he somehow grew even harder inside of you.

"Mi amor," he stole a kiss. "Mi corazón," and another kiss. "Mi alma," a third kiss. Your head began to swim. You knew by now what all of Pero's endearments meant, but hearing them issued in that deep growl against your mouth was still so special, so breathtaking that you never wanted him to stop.

"You are going to be so beautiful, so round and swollen with my child." Pero buried his face in your neck and pressed kisses to your skin as he murmured. "Everyone in the village will know you are mine."

"Pero," you gasped as his cock found a spot inside of you that felt like a string being plucked on an instrument. You nearly forgot how to get the words out, "Everyone in the village already knows you are mine, and that I am yours."

"The next village then, and the next after that." He rolled his hips and hit that spot again, and stars burst behind your eyes. Chills spread outward from his lips where he growled softly just under your earlobe. "You will have so many Tovar children that word will spread to the sea and beyond. I will fill you with my seed over and over until everyone knows."

"Oh Pero, my love, please touch me. Please." At that request he leaned up and kneeled, bringing his broad thumb down to where your bodies were joined. He deftly found your sensitive bud and began to stroke and slide his thumb around it, stealing your breath and making you arch your back against the covers. "Like that! Yes, Pero, yes!"

He growled a command, "Come for me. Now." And at that you exploded into ecstasy, a high wail ripping from your throat as you gripped the covers in your clawing hands.

"Look at that, mi amor. Your pussy is so greedy for my seed, she is trying to swallow me whole." Pero laughed with you as you came down from your high.

He leaned down to brace himself on two arms as he pumped his hips into you. His voice sounded ragged as he continued to pepper you with endearments. "You are the most... perfect woman I have ever seen. Y- you will be so beautiful... so- beautiful when you are swol- swollen with my child." He kissed you again and a sharp groan, almost a shout ripped from his lips. He collapsed on top of you and you felt him spill hot into your center.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and held him there, stroking the back of his head and shoulders with your hands. You lifted your lips to his ear to whisper tenderly to him, "I think our first child will be a girl, my love. I wish it to be so."