#Pedro Pascal Character fiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itwasntimethatdidit40 · 2 months ago

Text

Give me more.

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Words count: 2527 Rating: +18, MDNI

Summary: You're ovulating and can't calm down, just the night before Frankie leaves for a two-day camping trip with the boys for Santi's birthday... luckily Frankie is willing to help you... too much, even.

Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, established relationship, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, a lot of kissing, female masturbation (on Frankie's leg hehehe), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation, aftercare, reader has breasts and vagina, wears a baby doll and a thong, she's able body, she doesn't blush, she has hair but it's not described and she has no other description, brief reader’s thought insert, marked in italics. Pussy pronouns. Pet names (baby, honey, good girl). Frankie is our PEK on a mission 🫡

A/N: This Frankie is the same as You look like a fun place to sit, but it can be read as a stand alone, there are only some mild references to the previous ff. (If you haven't read it yet though, I hope you do 👀♥️) I have a couple more ideas in mind for these two, I hope to have something out for the Christmas holidays at least. Thank you so much for loving these two in the previous story, especially to @harriedandharassed who read it and shared it like 3 times if I'm not mistaken, I'm so flattered and grateful. I hope this one works just as well as the first one. English is not my first language, I have no beta, I hope there aren't too many mistakes, please forgive me if there are. I'm open to any advice you want to give me to improve but please be kind. (you always are, tbh). Comments and reblogs are always welcome, you would make me so happy 🥹 I started a tag list, if you want to be added leave a comment. If you'd prefer to be tagged only on something specific I can definitely do that, just let me know.

Thanks to anyone who reads, I hope you enjoy.

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Frankie...” you whisper in the dark.

“Yes?” he answers you in a thick sleepy voice

“Are you asleep?”

“Actually yes.”

“You're answering me, though.”

“Sweetheart...” he picks up his phone from the nightstand ”It's 3:00 a.m. What's wrong?”

“I can't sleep” you groan

“Come here, come on” you shift on his part of the bed and he holds you tightly against his body, you rest your head on his chest and surrender to his comforting embrace and the scent of his skin.

You hum “thank you”

He places a kiss on your forehead “sleep now”

You close your eyes, focusing on the sense of peace you feel wrapped in his strong arms, clasped to his body as warm as a furnace, one leg crossed over his, one arm wrapped around his waist.

It's amazing, really, so amazing that soon you begin to feel something else. a little shiver that runs under your skin, a little electric shock that goes through you all, and then a crescendo of wetness between your thighs.

You’re ovulating and you’re feral, simple as that.

You try not to mind it, to let it pass, not to be too demanding after he has already made you come twice tonight, once on the couch while you were watching a movie - well at least you tried, but you actually have no idea what the movie was about because you were too busy bouncing on his cock, which when you think back on it, it makes you laugh because it seems like a constant in your dating that you can't finish watching a movie without jumping on each other - and once as soon as you got into bed when he saw you coming out of the bathroom in a new babydoll and thong you bought especially for him.

Only two months ago neither of you could stand the other but now, as much as it still bothers you to admit it since he was the last person you thought you would end up with, you are completely and hopelessly smitten with him.

“Frankie,” you whisper, hoping he won't tell you off “can we kiss for a while? Just a little bit?”

It’s so early in the morning that he doesn't have the energy to be sarcastic as usual, he just replies “of course, baby”

He lowers himself on your face and kisses you on the lips, in a very tender but rather chaste way, he still looks half asleep. After a couple of minutes he stops and you sigh, resting your head back on his chest.

I must let him sleep, you tell yourself. This man is tired, he has already fucked me twice, that should be enough for now. Yet no, it's not enough, you still crave more.

“Frankie.." you mumble on his chest.

“Mmm what is it again?” his voice is even deeper and rougher than usual, which literally sends you into raptures.

"I..." a glimpse of him between your legs as he eats your pussy flashes past your eyes, you squeeze them hard and admit "I want you"

“Still?” he doesn't have an angry tone, nor an irritated one, he's calm, quiet, definitely awake at this point because you feel his hands roam over your back, all the way down to your ass “you insatiable little minx. You know I have to get up in three hours.”

“I know...but it's not fair, it's Saturday”

‘You were there when I promised to go camping and fishing with the guys, right?’ You leverage your arms to reach his neck, resting your lips on his soft, amber skin ”mmmm yes” you groan.

He chuckles, as he squeezes your butt cheeks “you know I have to, it's Santi's birthday”

You continue your run up his neck, slipping your hands under his shirt, caressing his back.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whisper in his ear, burying a hand in his dark curls, your leg tightening around him brushing your barely covered pussy on his leg. Frankie gasps at the sensation, as you begin to grind against his thigh. “It’s only for two days. Jesus, you really are a menace, you know that?”

“Yeah, you like that about me” You coo.

He puts a hand on your neck, his thumb brushing your ear while his other fingers wrap around the base of your skull. “I sure do. Go ahead, honey, make a mess on me”

You’re grinding hard, the texture of your brand new thong is adding a delicious scratch between your clit and his skin.

Ridiculous desperate moans escape your lips and he kisses you, letting them vibrate into his mouth.

He’s wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, which allows you to feel his warm skin, your clit throbbing against him, your dripping pussy heating from the contact.

You feel the tingle of your orgasm mount inside you, your mouth is wide open for him, your tongue feverishly entwined with his in a sweet struggle that leaves you breathless.

And you come, wave after wave, quivering against him, one of his strong arms keeps you in place while his other hand is still wrapped around your neck squeezing lightly on your pulse point.

Your breath is short and ragged, your body hot and tested and yet you feel like it’s not enough.

As soon as your breathing returns to normal you mutter “gosh...I want more” into his slightly sweaty t-shirt.

His voice comes out more high pitched than he would like, he opens his eyes wide and exclaims, "Baby, do you want to wreck even the last bit of me tonight?”

You giggle softly and coo “She’s aching, you know…”

You feel one of his hands kneading one of your ass cheeks and then sliding down to your pussy, massaging your folds from behind, wetting his fingers with your juices.

“Mmm that’s good” you whisper “but I still want more”

Frankie grunts, flipping you onto your back on the bed and getting on top of you.

His eyes scan you in the dim light of your room, reading the lust on your face. “How much is she aching?”

You whine, tighten your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer but Frankie doesn't budge an inch, he's too strong for you.

“Use your words, baby, I know you can.” His gaze is no longer clouded by sleep, it’s alert and authoritative and he pins you down.

“A lot.”

“Yeah? Does this wet pussy need me?” he goes down your chest kissing your skin left uncovered by the thin straps of your baby-doll. You moan again, you don't know how to do anything else, your head feels light and confused.

"Answer me" he says leaving a bite on your shoulder.

You squirm and a breathy "Yes" comes out of your throat.

You feel his cock swell against your thigh, A trickle of desire runs down between your legs, wetting the thong you're wearing underneath. It’s basically drenched at this point.

“What do you want me to do? Tell me what your naughty pussy needs"

“Your tongue, your fingers…” you whine “Please, Frankie”

One thing you learned right away about Frankie is that he really enjoys eating his girl out.

He's not one of those men who do it just to get a blowjob in return. He's dedicated. He uses his tongue, his lips, his nose even, he compliments how you taste, how pretty your cunt is, how wet and warm she is under his tongue, he doesn't stop until you're left shaking and breathless beneath him, until he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you.

He really is a force of nature and blows your mind every single time. And not only at doing that, he is experienced and passionate in every field.

“Greedy”

He pulls back the duvet and the cool air hardens your nipples as he reaches between your legs, his lustful, tantalizing eyes peering down at you.

His mouth brushes your inner thigh, slowly moving up from your knee to your groin, his beard tickling you deliciously, “is that what you want huh?”

“Yes” you murmur ”yes, please.”

His plump lips settle on your opening, he sticks out his tongue and licks from above the fabric. You moan, sinking a hand into his raven curls, pressing him against your cunt.

He chuckles against your folds, sending an exquisite vibration through your body, slips his fingers into the elastic of your thong and slowly pulls it down.

Your cunt throbs in anticipation as his tongue travels up your slit and you emit a deep “Fuck, yes” as soon as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking away the last bit of reasoning you had left.

“Oh God, Frankie”

He goes down again and comes back up, tongue flat out sliding over your wetness, once, twice, three, four times as an irrepressible heat spreads inside you again and then the tip of his tongue stops under your clit and he begins to jerk it quickly with close flicks.

His hand is open on your thigh, he slows down a bit when he feels your body tenses, goes back to teasing your opening and then starts tickling your bundle of nerves again.

You tug his hair, spreading your legs even wider to take in all that he wants to give you, melting under his ministration.

“Fuck, you’re so good, don’t stop” you whine and you see him grinning as he replies “I won’t, baby, I’m going to have a damn fucking meal out of this pussy”

His touch is careful, long laps and sucks on your clit, he knows how to alternate them, he seems to know your body and the way it reacts inside out.

Another thing you discovered about him is that he is great at listening and observing and very often guesses your needs and reactions before you express them. He immediately learned how you take your coffee, how you frown when something is bothering you, he knows that you need a particularly tight hug on Monday nights, and that on Friday nights you like to treat yourself to a drink to celebrate getting to the end of another work week.

Frankie is good, really good, you even start to really like quarreling with him, you like the way he stands up to you, the thrill of it and the amazing sex that usually comes right after.

He brings you almost to the edge with his tongue without taking his eyes off your face, and then you feel two of his fingers nudging at your entrance “you want them huh?”

“Yes” you breathe, almost on the verge of delirium and he teases “ask nicely baby, I haven’t heard that little magic word yet”

You would roll your eyes if you were able to do that but right now all you feel is desire, desire to be full again with his fingers, desire to be fucked just like the way you like, desire to be his and only his.

“Pl-please” you mutter and he whispers “here she is, my good girl”

His index and middle finger start to stretch you, it seems like he’s taking all the time in the world while you’re trembling and begging to be satiated.

“Almost there pleasepleaseplease”you plead and he sinks a little bit more, up to half fingers, his other hand gripping on the soft skin on your tummy, keeping you in place while your back feels like a guitar’s string ready to snap.

Your walls are clenching desperately around his fingers, impatient to have all but instead of giving you your long awaited release he comes out completely.

"Fuck" you hiss.

His lips are curved into a mocking smirk.

Your clit is swollen, your hole empty and the almost release is tingling all over your body like a latent fire that cannot be extinguished.

“Did you think I would make this easy for you?” He asks ironically.

You scoff “Goddamn,Frankie!”

You don't know how he finds strength but he's making you pay for be so demanding, your pussy won't stop throbbing as he barely caresses you, feather light touches on your folds, deliberately ignoring your clit.

You try to breathe deeply to calm down, but as soon as Frankie feels your body relax he returns to licking you, two fingers on your clit moving in circles.

You're almost on the verge of tears when he brings you back to within an inch of your brink.

“Frankie, please” you cry “I can’t- fuck- I just can’t”

“Oh yes, you can. You wanted more? I’m going to give you exactly this so now shut up and let me do my job” he’s commanding now.

He’s slow and steady over your bundles of nerves and when you impossibly tense again his mouth is back on it, sucking and teasing with his tongue.

When he gives you your second orgasm he doesn't stop stimulating you as it washes over you, your back arches sharply, you’re gushing in his mouth and all over his face, your hand in his hair tugs to try to pull him away from you but he doesn't move, his lips stubbornly latched onto your clit, his hand firmly on your tummy while the other grips your thigh.

He doesn't stop as you anchor yourself to the edge of the mattress trying to lift yourself up, your body twitching unbearably, he pulls you by your legs and brings you right back to where he wants you without taking his face off you, in fact sinking even more. “Frankie please, please, I can't” you feel tears stinging your eyes.

You feel so sensitive it’s almost impossible to handle.

“Ssssh you’re good” he says, detaching from you just long enough to say it, his beard and mustache glistening and soaked in your essence.

You squeeze your eyes, cover your mouth with your hand as you wail so gravelly it almost doesn’t sound your voice anymore.

You're overstimulated, your body is sore, you murmur a tearful “please” again, and Frankie finally decides you've had enough. He pulls away from you and takes you in his arms as he whispers, “You're okay, honey,” caressing your back. Your labored breathing slowly returns to normal, giving way to a deep, dense feeling of gratification.

Frankie definitely reached another level of dedication tonight.

“Is everything okay?” he asks as he lifts your chin, inviting you to look at him. "Yes," you murmur, and he kisses you tenderly, "do you think I've given you enough to deal with my absence for two days?”

You giggle “I think it's enough to endure a week” and ruffle his hair kissing him again, lingering on his lower lip “But let me tell you something, though, someone they call Catfish who goes fishing… it's really odd”

The sound of his thunderous laugh vibrates against you “I hadn't thought about it but I must admit that you are right. Now let me sleep for...I don't even know what time it is anymore” He reaches out an arm to retrieve the phone on the nightstand and realizes that it is already five o'clock.

“Oh, fuck”

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter 🌹

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fiction #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fandom

417 notes · View notes

baronessvonglitter · 5 months ago

Text

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve

965 notes · View notes

sp00kymulderr · 10 months ago

Text

Rise

Joel Miller x afab!reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+. Jackson Joel, Touch starved Joel, Lonely old man Joel. Too much religious imagery. Feelings, feelings, feelings. References to sex. Unedited.

Words: 700~

Summary: You are a brightness, Joel is the undeserving dark.

He hadn’t meant to stare, he really hadn’t.

The thing is, you were just so mesmerizing. The way you laughed and the way you danced and the way you could shine so bright in a world he had rarely known to be anything but cruel.

Jackson brought that out of people, Joel recognised that. The ability to let go finally, to live for more than survival. You had been half the bright star you are now when you first arrived; wary and traumatised. He knew those feelings well. Why had he held on to them for so much longer than anyone else?

You were like the antithesis to him: easy to know, easy to love, creating something out of the nothing your life had once been. You were well liked. Joel liked you more, he thought, but people saw you as someone they could talk to.

Tommy often told Joel he was respected in Jackson, appreciated. But it was never the same. He doesn’t have that glow, that brilliance. People know him. No one knows him. Not since Ellie had started to grow away from him, started to doubt him more…

No, not now. Those thoughts aren’t for now.

Right now, this moment, is for reverence. How had this happened? He had been staring more than he should last night at The Tipsy Bison. How had that lead you to be in his bed this morning? He could barely remember; the night a blur of things he didn’t think he should have been allowed to see. He had bought you a drink, you had given him a dance. And then more, and more. You had given him so much more.

Joel is staring again, your resting form so resplendent in the early morning light. So…divine…there’s no other word for it. You were made to be worshiped, he’s sure of it. Being of blazing light brought down to shine on his dimmed world.

When was the last time he had been touched before you? God, he truly doesn’t remember. Certainly not the way you touch; softness of your fingers paving the way for a needy grip on him, he wouldn’t forget that touch. He had been craving it for too long, imagining. Thought upon thought of what a thing your touch could be but he was never prepared for the reality of it.

Joels own hands find their way to you, fingers skimming the bare skin of your lower back. Unworthy. So defiant that his unworthy hands - so rough from years of wear - should get to lay a place on your body.

The word repeats again and again. Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy.

And yet last night you had told him in the silken whisper of your moans and pleas. Worthy. Worthy. Worthy.

His calloused hand travels its way slowly up the path of your back. A pilgrimage across a body meant for more than him. The rise and fall of your breath breathes fresh air in to the staleness of his home.

Of his heart.

What did he do to deserve this? What mistake did you make to let him have this?

Grey and alone and aching in ways that go beyond physical. But you were the one who kissed him first. You were the first to touch, to feel where he had not been felt in longer than he knew.

Joel leans slowly across to you. Those harsh fingers of his trailing down the curve of your waist. He dares to plant a pious kiss to your shoulder. Surely soon you’ll wake and realise the mistake?

“Joel” You moan. A soft little thing that makes his heart jump. The same way you’d spoke it last night while he’d had you on his lap, when he’d told you to come and you had like he should have any say in anything you did.

Fuck. He is undeserving of all of this but his greedy heart wants more. Hungry mouth wants to take you apart on it over and over again. Eager fingers itching to feel their way around every beautiful, delicate crook of your body.

He breathes your name back. You turn to him. Surely now is the time you tell him it was wrong. Now…

Joel’s breath catches as you turn to face him, pull him to you. He practically trembles as your lips meet again.

This can’t last forever. He doesn’t deserve it.

It means too much.

He means too little.

You kiss him again. He feels the glow of you everywhere.

This can’t last forever, he reminds himself.

#Joel Miller x Reader #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller smut #Pedro Pascal Character fiction #pedrostories #idk dudes I wrote this on the train it came out of nowhere it’s probably ooc as fuck but I felt it in my soul

909 notes · View notes

sunshinehaze1 · 12 days ago

Text

my 2024 favorite things (that others have made)

I read a lot of words this year. A LOT. 🫣

~8 million words (yes, I kept track 🤓 for S&G) that made me laugh, cry, feel squishy, inspired, and continue to live rent-free in my brain. Below are some of the words I loved the most. This is by no means an exhaustive list. I compiled mostly from memory and I’m sure I’ve missed some. A lot of y’all are just churning out 10/10, no notes gems on the regular and it is truly inspiring. Thank you for sharing your beautiful brains with the world! 🫶🏻 I can’t wait to read more!

18+, MDNI. Please read the warnings on each respective fic.

Joel:

Halcyon @justagalwhowrites

Meet Me in the Back @joelstummy

Dress up Joel @covetyou

So Much to Lose @auteurdelabre

Never made it as a wise man @almostempty

Daddy Can Fix It @baronessvonglitter

Roommates @punkshort

Cover Me Up @almostfoxglove

Teacher’s Pet @javiscigarette

Touch @eff4freddie

Click Here @strang3lov3

Maintenance Request @burntheedges

The Falling @getitoutofmymindwrites

Guilty Pleasure @for-a-longlongtime

See How She Rides @arcanefox207

Defying Algorithms @yxtkiwiyxt

Javi P:

Paranoid Heart @goodwithcheese

Pump @morallyinept

Fantasize @gothcsz

Lost & Found @oliveksmoked

Pretty Boy @joelmillerisapunk

A Litany of Lethe @kiwisbell

Frankie:

The Pilot and His Girl @avastrasposts

Do Me Yourself @jolapeno

Tonight You Belong to Me @intheorangebedroom

Brand New Babygirl @tieronecrush

Learning Curves @moonlitbirdie

Table for Two @hellishjoel

Transient Nights @pedgito

Sympathy for the Devil @encasedinobsidian

The Realm of Love @80ssong

Other characters:

Marcus Pike - Your Ride, Best Trip @qveerthe0ry

Dieter - Purple Haze @schnarfer

Mr. Ben - Visiting @ladamedusoif

Din - Fifteen @whocaresstillthelouvre

Ezra - In The Dark @frannyzooey

Javi G - Rhapsody in Blue @maggiemayhemnj

Dave York - Wildest Dreams @guiltyasdave

Marcus Acacius - Work of Art @ak-vintage

Multiple characters:

Rumor Has It @senorabond - Javi P x Marcus P. x reader

Listen/Watch/Touch @luxurychristmaspudding - Joel, Frankie & Santi x reader

Baby, I’m-a Want You @perotovar - Joel & Javi P

❤️

#2024 favorite things #fic recs #pedro pascal character fiction #joel miller #frankie morales #javi pena #dieter bravo #marcus pike #din djarin #mr ben snl #ezra prospect #dave york #general marcus acacius #javi gutierrez

126 notes · View notes

burntheedges · 5 days ago

Text

Pas de Deux Art!

Hey y'all. I am super behind on all notifications but I successfully moved this weekend! I am hoping to catch up in the next couple of days, now that our stuff is in the new place. In the meantime I have a special bonus post for y'all. I commissioned this absolute masterpiece waaaaay back in October and I cannot believe I managed to resist posting it for this long. I wanted to wait until Din took his shirt off in the fic! 😂

Please enjoy this absolute magic that @kenobiwanx made for us -- it's him! It's ballet!Din! Look at him! 😍 Gio this is so amazing, thank you again so, so much!!

😍🥺 now imagine having to get through rehearsal next to him. lol see you on Wednesday for the next chapter!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #pas de deux fic #nbt fic #ballet au #x reader #pedro pascal character fiction #art #fan art #kenobiwanx

92 notes · View notes

ghostofaboy · 8 months ago

Text

... Your Call Is Important

Summary: Dave, Marcus and Javier continue their day together. (Direct Sequel to Hold Please…)

Pairing: Dave York/Javier Peña/Marcus Pike Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 2457 Part 2 of 2

Warnings: Oral sex, anal sex, double anal penetration, threesome - m/m/m

Note: This has not been beta read so I apologize for any mistakes. This is a fic with gay/bi characters. Please make sure you’ve read the warnings. Dividers: @saradika-graphics

As he rested on the large hotel bed, Dave found himself watching the tiny dust motes float through the air. Beside him, Marcus lay panting, his head tucked against Dave’s neck as the younger man came down from his stifled orgasm. The cool air of the room sent goosebumps dancing across their skin as their sticky, sweat drenched forms remained tangled together after the activities moments earlier.

“You doing ok?” Dave murmured into Marcus’ hair, his gazed drifting down to the younger man’s still painfully erect cock, held in place with a black cock-ring.

“Yeah.” Marcus shifted his head to look up at Dave, his beautiful brown eyes looking darker than ever with dilated pupils almost erasing all color. “I’m good. Fuck, I wanna cum though.” Marcus laughed nervously, and Dave couldn’t stop himself from planting a kiss on his forehead.

“You will, baby boy. You just have to be patient and let us old men get a second wind.”

“Who you calling old?” Javier muttered, striding back into the bedroom and throwing a hand towel over to Dave. “I’ll be good to go soon enough, precioso.” Javier threw Marcus a wink, cheekily waving his soft cock at them both.

“You haven’t changed at all, Peña.” Dave chuckled as he gently began to wipe the cum from Marcus’ face. “Still the same bullshit and swagger as always.”

“I could say the same to you, York.” Javier climbed back onto the bed and settled down next to Marcus, propping himself up on his elbow. “You still have to be in charge, don’t you?”

“You used to like me being in charge.” Dave threw the sticky towel back at Javier, who threw it down onto the floor, glaring. “Or at the very least you never complained when I’d have you cumming on my cock.”

“Listen,” Javier frowned, pointing at finger at Dave. “I don’t need another round of-”

“How did you two meet?” Marcus cut in, shifting to sit up. “You promised to tell me and well, neither of you are perking up just yet, so we have the time.”

“So rude, baby boy.” Dave chuckled, shaking his head, looking down at his still flaccid cock. “But, you’re not wrong.”

“You want to tell the story, I assume.” Javier smirked as he idly stroked his dick.

“Well, I’ll start.” Dave grinned. “We were both at god awful joint departmental function and-”

“It was for charity.” Javier interrupted. “And it wasn’t that bad. Just, well, you know how these things are… just boring.”

“Right.” Dave rolled his eyes. “Anyway. I’m trying not to drink myself into a coma just for something to do when I spot this one.” Dave nodded his head towards Javier. “He was flirting up a storm with a very disinterested intern, and so-”

“She wasn’t an intern.” Javier scowled. “Fuck York, you make it sound like she was just a kid. She was a junior administrative aid, and for the record, she was very interested.”

“I thought you were letting me tell this story, Peña.”

“Well, you’re fucking telling it wrong.” Javier shrugged.

“So what happened then?” Marcus gave a small laugh. “After Dave spotted you?”

“Look, long story short, we ended up blowing each other in a side room.” Javier waved his hand dismissively. “After that we hooked up every few weeks until… until we didn’t.”

“Well, that’s a shitty version.” Marcus shook his head. “I want the long story, not the cliff-notes.”

“And I want to fuck you again.” Javier reached over to pinch Marcus’ nipple, before locking eyes with Dave. “And I’m ready to go again, viejo.”

Dave’s eyes wandered down Javier’s body and sure enough, jutting out proudly, was the other man’s growing erection. Glancing over at Marcus, Dave was just in time to see the young man lick his lips in anticipation before smiling at Javier.

“I’ll tell you the full story next time, baby boy.” Dave purred into Marcus’ ear, kissing the younger man softly. “And fuck you, Peña, I’m ready.”

“Please let me cum this time.” Marcus gestured down to his trapped cock, his smile growing in relief as Dave nodded.

“I got you.” Javier stroked a hand down Marcus’ face, gently cupping the younger man’s jaw, before leaning in for a long tender kiss.

Dave watched for a moment as his two lovers melded together, Javier’s tongue darting into Marcus’ mouth, all the while pumping his cock. Dave shook his head, allowing himself a smirk at Javier’s determination to get hard before him. The man never changed. And that was enough to wake Dave’s own member, and as he reached over to free Marcus from the cock-ring, Dave felt his dick twitch awake.

Marcus sighed into Javier’s mouth as Dave released him, tossing the ring onto the nightstand. Settling back onto the pillows, Dave watched and waited for the other two men to part, trying to push away the feeling of jealousy that tugged at the back of his mind. The softness that Javier poured into Marcus was something he and Javier never had, and something Dave could never allow himself to give to the younger man. Finally, Javier pulled back, smiling down at Marcus, their eyes locked on each other before they eventually turned to Dave.

“You good?” Dave forced himself back into the moment, pushing down any bubbling feeling, instead tugging on his erection.

“We’re good.” Marcus smiled back at him with flushed pink cheeks, while Javier simply gave a quick nod.

“Wonderful.” Dave reached over, pinching one of Marcus’ nipples hard, pulling a gasp and soft moan from the young agent. “Now, why don’t you come ride this cock and let me fill your ass. Let me add my cum to Peña’s.”

A low groan sounded from behind the grinning Marcus as Javier’s eye roamed down his body to Marcus’ ass, and Dave knew what he was thinking. He was thinking of the load he’d left inside Marcus’ already sloppy hole a short time ago. Perhaps once Dave added his own seed Marcus would be able to hold it in or perhaps, Dave hoped, he wouldn’t.

Swinging a leg over Dave’s torso, Marcus swiftly straddled him, his red leaking tip dripping onto Dave’s stomach as he moved. Over to their left Javier watched with dark, lust filled eyes, his gaze fixed on Marcus as he lined Dave’s cock up with his entrance. Then with a long, obscenely deep moan, Marcus sank down, engulfing Dave in his heat.

“Fuck baby b-” Dave pinched his eye shut for a moment to collect himself as Marcus immediately began to move. “In a rush?”

Placing his hand firmly on Marcus’ hip to still him, and after one final roll of his hip, Marcus stopped, staring grumpily down at Dave. Javier chuckled, shifting on the bed to kneel beside Dave’s head and nudged his cock against his lips.

Locking eyes with Marcus, Dave slowly parted his lips to allow Javier entry, more than a little proud as both men groaned in response. Javier thrust lazily into Dave’s mouth, who flattened his tongue and sucked the tip hard. Held steadily in place, Marcus watched the show, his eyes flicking between Dave’s steely gaze and the sight of seeing the older, sterner agent with a thick dick in between his lips.

Releasing Javier’s cock, Dave began to kiss and lick along the length, pulling hisses and moans from Javier. Still holding an impatient Marcus with one hand, Dave beckoned him forward with the other, flicking the tip of his tongue across the slit of Javier’s cock. With a smirk that made Dave twitch inside the younger man, Marcus slowly leaned forward until he was face to face with Dave.

Then quick as a flash Marcus pounced forward, his lips meeting Dave’s to kiss him sloppily and clumsily with Javier’s girth trapped between their lips.

“Mierda.” Javier growled above them, thrust his cock toward to fuck between their mouths. “Both of you lick it. That’s right… fuck.”

Dave swirled his tongue around the tip while Marcus focused on the shaft, reaching out to fondle and tug on Javier’s balls. Dave kept his eyes fixed on Marcus, watching as the younger man sucked along the length before finding Dave’s lips to give him a slobbering kiss before working his way back up towards Javier's bush.

Satisfied that Marcus wasn’t going to blow his load the second he started to move now, Dave released Javier with a pop, turning his head to look up at the other man.

“I think it’s time to fuck our boy, don’t you?”

Javier frowned for a moment, before a single eyebrow quirked up as he caught onto Dave’s meaning. Glancing at Marcus planted on Dave’s cock, Dave could see the uncertainty in Javier’s eyes. Frowning again, Javier shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

“He can take it.” Dave playfully slapped Marcus’ ass, pulling a surprised yelp and laugh from the young man. “Can’t you, baby boy? Should I send Peña the pictures of you with that red dildo in you?” Looking back over at Javier, Dave grinned, dropping his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “I could fit both my hands in him afterward.”

Javier growled, pulling his cock back and away from Marcus and Dave’s lip, and climbed swiftly along the bed until he was behind Marcus again. From his seat atop Dave, Dave felt Marcus shudder in anticipation as Javier busied himself squeezing out more lube.

“You can take it.” Dave soothed, rubbing gently circles on Marcus’ hip. “We’re both going to fill you and it’ll feel so good when you cum.”

Marcus nodded, making a soft needy sound as Javier placed a hand on his back to push him forward slightly. As Marcus folded himself over, resting his face in the crook of Dave’s neck, Dave watched as Javier lined himself up. Dave could feel the other man’s heavily cock resting against the base of his own. Then slowly, achingly slowly, Javier began to push in.

Marcus arched his back and groaned, a low throaty sound that had Dave biting back his own moans as Javier continued to ease his way in. The sensation of Javier’s cock sliding against his own flooded Dave with a dizzying rush of heat that steadily built as the other man stretched Marcus’ entrance, splitting him open until he was fully buried alongside Dave.

Marcus was panting into the crook of Dave’s neck, making soft whimpers and moans while his hole spasmed around them both. Javier’s face was flushed as he locked eyes with Dave, and Dave understood immediately. Despite all the swagger and bullshit earlier, Javier wanted, perhaps needed, Dave to take the lead.

With a simple nod from Dave, Javier began to slowly and cautiously move. Keeping his eyes fixed on Dave, Javier dragged his cock along Dave’s length, the two men held snugly inside Marcus’ ass. The feeling was electrifying, pulling a strangled cry from Marcus along with a muffled curse.

Javier began to roll his hips, tenderly at first, still wary of hurting Marcus, his eyes gazing into Dave’s. Eventually, Marcus lifted his head up, gasping as he looked over his shoulder towards Javier.

“Please.” His voice caught in his throat as he begged. “Fuck... fuck me. Hard. I want it hard.”

“You heard him.” Dave’s eyes never left Javier’s.

Baring his teeth, Javier bucked forward sharply, plunging his length deep into Marcus before withdrawing and jolting forward again. Grabbing Marcus by the shoulders, Javier began to fuck the younger man, taking control of the pace for him and Dave. All the while, Dave met his eye, feeling the lust inside him build as he watched it inside Javier's dark eyes.

Despite his cockiness, Dave had never done anything like this before, and it was taking everything he had to keep his composure. Every nerve sang with Javier’s thrusts. His head throbbed with the intoxicating fog conjured by Marcus’ soft whimpers. All he wanted to do was throw his head back and howl as he came as the heat took over his entire body. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. So Dave held Javier’s eye and watched as the gruff DEA agent came undone.

Red-faced with his breath coming out in bursts from between gritted teeth, Javier pounded into Marcus, the friction of his cock against Dave’s pulling both men closer to the edge quicker than either had anticipated.

“F-fuck.” Javier stuttered, his hips faltering for a couple of strokes. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna…”

“Me too.” Marcus cried out as he came with a shudder, his muscles tensing around the cocks in his ass. With a cry, Dave felt Marcus spilling himself over the older man’s stomach, before collapsing boneless on top of Dave.

Javier kept his eyes locked with Dave as he came, his hips stuttering as Dave felt his cum flooding into Marcus. Dave was almost sure Javier mouthed something to him, but as his own climax hit, Dave’s vision blurred as he tumbled over the edge. Gripping the bedsheets, Dave arched his back as he emptied himself into Marcus.

“How was your meeting?” Carol’s voice was soft in his ear as Dave looked out of the hotel room window out onto the city streets below him. The sun was just beginning to set, sending streaks of orange flaring out into the sky. “Do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

“We ran over.” Dave glanced over to the bed and the two men fast asleep in each other’s arms. Shifting the phone to his other ear, Dave wandered over to the hard, modern looking chair, running his hand along the smooth gray fabric. “I’ll be home tomorrow. Afternoon at the latest. The hotel is nice, though.”

“Well, that’s a plus.” His wife laughed before a noise in the background caught her attention. “Oh! I have to go, Cindy’s back with the girls.”

“Ok.” Dave sighed at the mention of their neighbor’s name, the woman Carol had been fucking for two years. “You two have fun.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Carol teased, the sounds of the girls in the background getting louder. “You have your fun, I have mine. Say hi to Marcus for me. I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. I love you.”

“I will.” Dave couldn’t stop himself from giving a soft laugh. “Love you too.”

Hanging up, Dave looked over to the bed and the two naked men, finding them both still sleeping soundly. Marcus resting his head on Javier’s chest smiled contentedly as Javier huffed in his sleep. Climbing into the large bed to sandwich Marcus between him and Javier, Dave settled into the pillows, watching the dust motes dance through the warm beams of light while he waited for his lovers to wake.

taglist: @aurorawritestoescape, @vabeachazn, @perotovar, @morallyinept, @for-a-longlongtime

#javier peña #dave york #marcus pike #narcos #the equalizer 2 #the mentalist #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fiction #pedro pascal characters

96 notes · View notes

daddydindjarin · 2 years ago

Text

The Long and Winding Road Part V: The Revelation

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no physical description of the Reader given)

Rating: 18+ Explicit, PIV, no protection (wrap it up folks)!

Wordcount: 5169

Summary: An understanding and a talk about feelings, followed by pure action.

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @djarinsbeskar who are my absolute rocks, and looked over this for me about a thousand times while I cried in the corner cause I’m a nervous bean. And thank you as always to my discord besties for encouraging me, and screaming with me over Francisco Morales.

←Previous | Masterlist | Next→

A bright sun.

Leaves filtering the light, casting shadows on grass that was too green to be real.

A gentle breeze softening the afternoon heat as it danced over your skin.

Frankie leaning against the tree, watching the leaves move with the breeze, and then finding your eyes and smiling somehow brighter than the sun, his arm extending, reaching for your hand.

Your hand passing through his without so much as a whisper of a touch.

Frankie frowns, standing straight. You watch his panic rise, not understanding what was happening. You raise your hand to the sun, watching the light through your now opaque hand, before finding Franking again. Tears burn behind your eyes, and you long to touch him, your hand hovering over his arms. He’s yelling, but no sound escapes him, you can’t hear anything.

Not him, not the leaves, not your own heart beating.

You close your eyes and try to feel the sun one more time before feeling nothing at all.

-----------

The coffee percolating was what pulled you from your dreams (nightmare?) and into the land of the living. You laid under the covers for a few more moments, shaking the dream away, trying not to read too much into it. It was just the alcohol, you told yourself, burying your face deeper into the pillows.

“Good morning,” Frankie called from possibly the bathroom, laughing at your answering groan. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you replied from under the covers, unsure if he heard you. You opened your mouth to ask him if he was hungover too, remembering all the drinks you consumed last night, but in your rewind of the night, you don’t remember Frankie drinking much at all. What you do remember is him taking care of you, him making you drink water, him giving you a ride back to the hotel on his back, and…

And….

Your face burns, recalling how you undressed in front of him, desperate to have his hands on you. The alcohol had made you brave, and you had begged him for more than he was willing to give, a gentleman to his core. You pull the covers tighter over your head, embarrassment flooding your body.

How were you going to face him? Sure, you could just blame it on the alcohol, but it was you making those choices, uninhibited by self-restraint and respect for him. You had just decided on living the rest of your days under these blankets when you felt the bed dip next to you.

“You gonna come out, or are you gonna spend all day under there worrying about something you shouldn’t be worried about?”

You peeked your head out from under the covers, and Frankie was there, giving you a crooked smile, and holding out a glass of water for you. “You need to drink some of this, and then you can have coffee.”

Neither of you moved, guilt clawing at the back of your throat and sitting like a rock in your stomach until it forced itself up and past your lips. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes downcast, tracing the stitching on the blanket. “I’m so sorry that I acted like that.”

Frankie shook his head, looking earnest. “You don’t have to apologize, you’re okay.”

Your cheeks burned, glancing up at his kind face and bright eyes. He was backlit by the morning sun, giving his dark hair a halo of light, making him look like the angel you considered him. You wanted him so badly, your fingers twitching against the blanket. You moved suddenly, throwing the blanket off your legs, and scrambling off the side of the bed.

Frankie jerked, his hands moving in your direction, “Hey, wha-“

“Shower!” You blurted out, pulling at the hem of your shirt. “I’m gonna go shower. Make myself human again.”

You grabbed the first clean looking piece of clothing you could find, refusing to look in Frankie’s direction, but you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. As you slid the bathroom door shut, you snuck a glance in his direction, catching the way his jaw clenched before he disappeared from view.

‘What is wrong with me?’ You thought, stripping down, tossing your sleep mussed clothes into the corner on top of Frankie’s. You turned the water about as hot as it could go, and stood on the cold tile while steam filled the bathroom. Brushing your teeth quickly, you watched yourself in the mirror, glaring at the mascara on your cheeks, hating that this is what Frankie had to see.

Of course, he probably felt bad for you, and like he had to take care of you. Which was something you didn’t want- not from him, not from anyone.

But, you thought, stepping into the burning water, and sighing as your muscles instantly relaxed, Frankie didn’t seem like the type who would just hang around you out of some misguided sense of obligation. He was a good guy, and getting you back to the hotel safe and in one piece was just who he was a person. He’d have done it for a stranger, you were sure, because that’s just who Frankie was. Plain and simple, he was good.

You could write off part of last night, but what about everything else? The way he paid attention to how you liked your tea in the morning and afternoon, always preferring that to coffee.

The way he had picked up on your medication time frame, and would check that you hadn’t forgotten to take it as you were wont to do. He wouldn’t have spent time learning these small things about you if it was just him being good. Wouldn’t have picked you up from the side of the road, or bandaged your knee. Wouldn’t have touched you so tenderly, like you were a precious stone, easy to break, but put back together with a band-aid and kiss.

Wouldn’t have turned you down when he had the opportunity to lean into your booze filled decisions, or said the things he did.

You mulled this revelation over, feeling your heart beat a pattern that would match the beat Frankie’s fingers would drum on the steering wheel. You still had reservations about your feelings, but Frankie made it so easy to care for him. He was kind, and genuine, putting your feelings and needs above his own, even when you wished he wouldn’t. He was respectful, and had proven time and time again that he wasn’t one to take advantage of you. Would it really be so bad to let him in? To share yourself with him completely for however long the two of you had left?

The water started cooling, and you turned it off, quickly drying yourself off and pulling on your clothes- a pair of sweatpants and a Tampa Bay Titans t-shirt that definitely belonged to Frankie, that you grabbed by accident. You could throw on your sleep shirt again, but Frankie’s scent soothed your frayed nerves, so you slipped it on, breathing deeply and sliding open the door, met with the sight of Frankie still sitting where you left him, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and when he finally met you, you watched his eyes visibly darken, his tongue running across his lower lip, drawing your eyes to trace its path, wishing it was your own.

He was silent for a beat, and then asked, “Did you mean it?”

“What?” You replied, your eyes darting up to meet his. There was a fire behind his eyes, and you were frozen, unable to move as he continued.

“You said that you wanted me last night,” he replied, his gaze steady, never wavering from your own. “Did you mean that? I’m not going to be upset if that’s not the case, or anything like that. I get what it’s like not being in your right state of mind, and just saying things. But I need to know if you meant it.”

You straightened, your fingers clenched, nerves lighting up with anxiety. “I meant it Frankie. I meant every word.” Watching his face closely for any sign of disgust, or pity. “I’ve felt this way for the last few weeks, if we’re being honest.”

Frankie grinned and stood, coming to a stop in front of you in two large steps. “I felt it too,” he said in a low voice, his fingers grazing your hand where it hung by your side. “Probably since the first day.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, anticipation mounting. You knew there was still a lot you needed to say, more you needed to think about but right now? Right now nothing else mattered except Frankie and the way he was looking at you. “Frankie?” you murmured, turning your hand to link your fingers together loosely, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah?” he responded, his eyes moving down to your mouth, and you resisted the urge to bite your lip.

“If I asked you to kiss me right now, what would you do?”

“Well,” he said, his hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, squeezing the sensitive skin there slightly. “I’d probably have to kiss you, if you asked me nicely.”

“Frankie?” You were a hair’s breadth away from him, watching the storm rage in his eyes, his eyes so dark there was very little brown left.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

The words had barely left your mouth, and his lips were on yours, soft but insistent in the way they molded to you. He smelled like sleep and sun, and you breathed in against him as you pulled away for air for just a moment, before you came crashing back together. His tongue brushed your bottom lip and you opened for him, not able to stop the whimper that fell from your lips.

Frankie groaned at the sound, his other hand gripping your waist and pulling you closer, until you were flush against him, every inch of you touching him, your hands buried in his curls, and gently tugging. Everything seems to come to a halt around you, and you didn’t care if you were struck by lightning at that moment, as long as Frankie kept kissing you.

His lips moved to your jaw, peppering kisses along it, nipping at your chin. Your head tilted to the side, giving him unfettered access to your neck. He seized the opportunity and lavished his attention there, his fingers at your back finding your skin under your thin sleep shirt, firm in their quest to pull you closer to him. He felt like fire and ice at once, lighting you up from the outside as he made you shiver, his kisses more insistent with every sigh that he pulled from you.

His hands on your hips pulled you with him as he started walking backwards, pulling you with him towards the bed, but refusing to halt in kissing you. His knees hit the mattress and he stumbled back, sitting down heavily, and you laughed softly as he looked up at you, almost pouting that he had to stop kissing you. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, pulling you down to straddle his thighs.

Your knees rested on the mattress on either side of his legs, hovering over him slightly, worried to put too much weight down on him. Frankie was having none of that, his large hands spreading across your ass and groping you, practically spreading you for him from behind. You gasped, pushing your ass back into his hands as he pushed you down against him while his hips jerked upwards to meet him. You dropped your hips, grinding against his growing bulge, clinging to him for all you were worth. The friction against your clit wasn’t nearly enough to do anything but make your pussy weep, your underwear a causality in your desperation for this man. His arms banded around your waist, helping you move against him as he sucked a bruise on your collarbone.

“Fuck baby,” he gasped out, his hips jerking under you. You whined in response, tugging firmly on his curls to get his mouth back on yours. He evaded your lips, his nose instead nudging against yours gently, and you slowed down, your hips slowly rolling against him.

“Feels good,” you whispered, dragging your mouth along his patchy beard, placing a kiss at a heart shaped bare patch that you had been obsessed with for a while. “I may have gotten over-excited.”

“No, Hermosa, don’t apologize for feeling good,” he said, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “I just want to savor you. Want to take my time with you. And if we keep going like this, I’m gonna end up cumming in fuckin’ pants.”

You grinned down at him, hands cupping his cheeks to press a sweet kiss to his mouth. You stayed like that for a few moments, trading kisses like secrets, your hips not stopping their circuit, just enjoying the feeling of his length brushing your core just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Feel what you do to me, Hermosa?” Frankie gasped out, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you were sure they were going to leave bruises. “Need you to lay back.”

He helped to reposition you on your back, pausing to practically rip his shirt off of his back, before he kissed away your pout, and started moving down your body, his fingers feather-light against your skin. He skimmed the neckline of your- his- shirt, his fingers grazing the tops of your breast, and your back arched into his touch, your fingers gripping his arms, your eyes roving over his golden skin. “Please, Frankie…”

“You look good in my clothes, baby. Feel free to wear them any time.” Grinning, he slipped your shirt up and over your head, his fingers coming back to dance along the underside of your breasts. “Goddamn,” he breathed, his mouth finding the stiff peak of your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking harshly and moving to show the same attention to your other one. “Fucking beautiful.”

You blushed, gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to find something to ground you as Frankie mapped his way down your body, dipping his fingers under your sweats. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his eyes catching yours. “Can I take these off, Hermosa?” It sounded like a plea, like a man begging for absolution that only you could give.

Nodding, you lifted your hips so Frankie could pull them off you, throwing them to the floor, and then he sat back and just…looked. You watched his eyes roam every part of you, taking in every mark he’d left on your body so far, his eyes calculating where he still had yet to leave others. His hand stroked the inside of your thighs, pushing gently. “Let me see you, pretty girl.”

You spread your thighs, and he pushed them open farther, far enough to get his broad shoulders between them as he settled on the mattress on his stomach. He pressed a kiss directly to the top of your mound, and then parted your folds with his nose, breathing you in.

“Frankie,” you gasped out, feeling his lips graze softly over your clit, your hips jerking off the bed. His long arms circle your thighs, holding you down and into place as he grumbles against your sensitive skin.

“Need you to stay still for me, Hermosa. Let me taste you,” he licked a stripe up the center of your pussy, his tongue barely dipping inside of you, and then coming back to your clit. He teased around the edges, taking his time, savoring the taste of you, interrupted only by his groans, and praises. Telling you how good you tasted, how perfect you were for him, how badly he wanted you.

And then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, and you were seeing stars.

You couldn’t have stopped your hips moving if you had tried, reaching the crest of your orgasm faster than you ever had. You rolled your hips against his face, begging him for more, your fingers gripping the sheets so hard you thought they would rip. He drank heavily from the source, your slick and his spit coating your skin and his.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” his voice was thick with want and full of awe. His hand moved to your entrance, your walls giving away easily under the constant pressure of his finger. He pumped in and out slowly, letting you get used to the feeling before adding a second. You leaned into the stretch of him, clenching down when he found that sweet spot inside of you that you could never quite reach with your own fingers, and you practically mewled for him like a cat in heat.

“Fuckin’ use me to get off sweetheart. Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? I barely touched you and you’re gonna come for me again, huh? Gonna fuck yourself on my fingers?”

“Please, please, please,” you pleaded, practically writing under him. He was right, you were quickly approaching a second orgasm, between the way he was expertly playing with your clit with his tongue, his fingers pistoning inside you, and his goddamn voice talking you through your high. “Need you, Frankie. Want you.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me again. Lemme see you come on my fingers.” He didn’t stop moving, but you felt him add a third finger, the stretch burning slightly and you hissed, it turning into a whine as he slowed down slightly. “Gotta get you ready for me baby, need you to come again. Can you do that for me?”

His hand picked up speed again, and he hummed his approval as you humped against his hand, his tongue swirling against your sensitive nub. You felt his teeth graze you, and he pressed up with his fingers inside you and you were done for, cumming so hard you sat up, your abdominal muscles clenching in protest at the onslaught of tension rippling across your body. He didn’t let up, fucking into you faster than it seemed possible till you were gushing around him, and you could just barely hear the obscene sounds of him drinking you down over your pounding heart.

You released the sheets to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling him up and away from your pussy as your sensitivity started to turn to just this side of painful. He pulled his fingers from you slowly, his eyes meeting yours as he greedily stuck them into his mouth to suck the remaining juice from them with a smirk. You laughed, pulling him down to lay fully on top of you, his hand leaving his mouth to reset both of them on either side of your head as he kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his lips, heady and tangy, his mustache and chin glistening with your arousal.

You wrapped your tongue around his, taking everything he had to offer and more, determined to show him how much you cared for him, and how appreciative you were in a kiss. Your body was loose, legs shaking, but you were ready for more. You didn’t think you’d ever want less of whatever Frankie wanted to give you. Your hands slid from the back of his neck to skim across his firm chest, marveling at how warm he was, not for the first time. You had joked before that he was a massive space heater, and he felt good against your still shaking hands.

You traced your way down his body as the two of you kissed, and you could feel him, hot and heavy against your thigh. You felt the banded muscles in his arms, and the thickness of his wrist. You dipped into the contours of his back, his skin rippling as he moved above, and you smiled into his mouth- he kissed with his entire body. You razed his sides, making a note of the way he jerked slightly- ticklish?- and lavished attention on his stomach, slightly rounded but firm, a dusting of hair leading down to where you were most interested at this moment in time. You played with his happy trail for a minute, fingers smoothing over the soft hair there, before your hand slipped under his pants and you gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock and gently squeeze.

Frankie breathed in deeply through his nose, refusing to leave your lips even as his hips jerked under your hold on him, the restraint he was showing immense. His hips moved ever so slightly as your hand slid to the tip to gather the precum he was dribbling into his underwear, leaving a wet, sticky patch in the fabric of his pants. You fingers were coated in him, and you pumped him slowly, delighting in the way he whimpered into your mouth. You grinned, pulling away for air, and to look at his face, wanting to see the way you were affecting him.

His mouth was open slightly, the tips of his ears red, his eyes hooded and gaze dark as you kept your movements up. He was fucking beautiful, and His breathing was becoming more labored, and you picked up speed, but his hand shot down to grab your wrist, pulling it away from him with a groan. “You’re determined to make me cum in pants, aren’t you?” He panted, and your hands landed firmly on his hips, pushing his pants down as far as you could reach till his cock sprang out, bobbing heavily. Your mouth was practically watering, and you felt the impatience rising, wanting him inside of you now, your trance only broken by a quiet, “ah, shit.”

You looked up at him, his face etched with concern. “What?” you asked, feeling your chest tighten. “Frankie, what’s wrong?”

He sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. “Baby, I don’t have a condom.”

Gently cupping his cheeks, you kissed him gently, smiling up at him. “It’s okay. I have a birth control implant, and I got tested before we left. Are you clean?”

Frankie nodded, pressing a kiss into your palm. “Got tested about 6 months ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since then.”

You grinned, dropping a kiss on his lips, your hands sliding down to his hips. “Good, that’s settled then.”

Frankie still looked unsure, balancing on one hand to grasp your chin with his other, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Are you one hundred percent sure? You can say no right now, and I’m not going to be upset.”

You laughed, lifting your hips slightly, letting him brush against your wet folds. “Frankie, am I going to have to ask you nicely to fuck me too?”

He chuckled, kissing you softly again, and shaking his head. “I just don’t want to be something you regret.”

He had laughed while saying that, but your heart ached for the honestly behind the seemingly lighthearted words. Someone had once made him feel as though he was something to be ashamed of, something to regret, and you made a silent promise that you would die before ever letting Frankie feel that way with you.

“Frankie, I promise you, this is what I want. I want you, in whatever way you’re comfortable having me. But I would very much like to have you inside me.”

His eyes darkened again, and he kissed you once more, no longer soft and gentle. This was a demanding kiss, and you whined softly as he took himself in hand and started rubbing the fat tip of his cock through your folds, coming to rest against your clit as he slowly rocked there, the head catching on every down stroke. You could feel your breath picking up as he notched himself at your entrance, pushing forward slowly.

The stretch of him was magnificent, the pleasure drowning out the burn from taking his girth. Frankie was massive, and he was taking his time opening you up, watching where he was disappearing inside of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight.”

He kept moving forward until he was hilted, pausing to give you time to adjust to him inside you. You were already blissed out, so full you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You felt as though you had no control over your body, your back arching slightly from the pleasure. “Frankie, move, please,” you could hear the high litany of your voice pleading with him, and he groaned when you clenched down on him, his voice raspy as he started to move.

“So fucking perfect,” he said, sitting back on his heels for more leverage. It changed the angle enough to push him that much deeper, and you met him thrust for thrust. “So goddamn wet, and tight, and perfect.”

He was babbling now, a never ending stream of filth leaving his mouth as his thrusts got harder, and deeper. You were gushing around his cock, the obscene squelch of your joining only making it that much hotter for you. You could hear yourself begging him for something, but fuck if you knew what for, unable to think of anything beside the way he was making you feel.

You felt him press firmly on your lower abdomen, and you couldn’t stop the shout that left you, your hips bucking under his hand.

“Feel that baby?” he asked, not waiting for your answer, “Can feel my cock all the way up here, fucking you so deep. Gonna keep you on my cock till you can’t take it any more.”

That sounded perfect to you, you thought, your hands reaching for something, anything, and finding his, your fingers linking together as his pace started to falter. He moved his hand from your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, and you came suddenly, your body seizing around him, clenching against him as your back arched off the bed.

Frankie let out a strangled noise, fucking you through your orgasm, watching you fall over the peak and land in a daze. He was still talking to you, letting you know how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how you were practically sucking him in with how hard you were clenching around him. He wasn’t far behind you, fucking you at a brutual pace, and begging you with a “Where baby? Tell me where to cum. Please, fuck, please tell me.”

“Inside,” you whined, wrapping your legs tightly around his back, your arms reaching up to pull him down to you, “cum inside me, Frankie. Wanna feel you dripping out of me.”

He whimpered, giving you a few more hard thrusts before you felt the hot ropes of his spend burning you from the inside out, his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself above you. You tugged at him gently and he all but collapsed against you, his head resting against your chest as he eased his full body weight down on you, which was exactly what you wanted. Your breaths matched, both chests heaving against the exertion. He was still inside you, the fullness satiating you further, basking in the afterglow. You smoothed the hair back from his sweaty forehead and dropped a kiss to it, brushing another to his nose, and when he tilted his face up to look at you, you softly kissed his lips, the backs of your fingers caressing the high point of his cheek.

The two of you stayed like that until he was soft enough to slip from inside you, your face heating up as you felt him dripping from you and onto the bed sheets. You idly thought that you should have put a towel down, sorry for the housekeepers that were going to have to clean this up after you. Frankie shifted, pushing up and off of you, hovering over your body, his eyes raking over you, and you’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his cum was still leaking for your body, something you didn’t think you’d find as hot as you did.

“Shit, Hermosa,” he grunted, watching you squeeze your thighs together to help slow the dribble. “Keep making that face, and we might not leave this bed.”

You laughed, raising your arms to stroke gentle paths up and down your body. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea to me, not if you’re in the bed with me.”

He groaned, tearing his eyes away from where your hands cupped your breasts, lifting them towards him slightly in an offering. “Who is this bruja, and what has she done with the sweet girl who was scared to share a bed with me?” He pushed himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. You heard the water run, and then he was reappearing with a washcloth, the bed dipping under the weight of his knee. His large palm ran up the inside of your leg, and pushed them open, spreading them wide enough to help clean you up, erasing the traces of him from your skin.

“I was nervous about sharing a bed,” you said, your voice catching on your embarrassment, “because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with how much I wanted you. Didn’t want to chase you off.”

Frankie nodded, tossing the washcloth into the corner, and he flopped down next to you, pulling you into the circle of his arms. “Believe it or not, I was worried about the same thing. Been worried about it since Savannah.”

“Really?” You laughed, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really,” he replied, the crinkles by his eyes prominent as he smiled at you. “All those little shorts you got? Thought I was gonna go crazy, you sitting next to me all leg and not being able to touch you.”

You grinned, snuggling into him. “Well, sir, you can touch me as much as you want. I promise I don’t mind.”

“Careful little girl,” he shot back, his arms squeezing just a hair tighter. “Don’t tempt me, or you definitely won’t be leaving this bed.”

Mischief danced across your features as your hand snuck down between you, your fingers finding your still soaked slit. You gathered the moisture on your fingers before cupping him, feeling him starting to harden in your grasp. “Seems like you’re up for the challenge.”

With a growl, he flipped your positions, biting gently at your shoulder as you squealed and laughed with him, happiness settling deep in your stomach.

When housekeeping knocked a few hours later, twin shouts of “We’re okay,” were heard from outside, followed by more laughter and the unmistakable sound of the bed frame knocking against the wall. You didn’t leave the room until well into the afternoon, holding hands as you walked into the French Quarter again.

-------

←Previous | Masterlist | Next→

#the long and winding road #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fiction

56 notes · View notes

all-the-things-2020 · 11 months ago

Text

Continuing the Way - Chapter Six

Summary: Mariana tells Din and her coworkers the news.

Rating: PG

The moment Mariana walked through the door, Din knew something was bothering her. His plan to tell her about his encounter with Isard was forgotten. “You’re home early. What’s wrong?,” he asked as she dropped her bag on the table.

“Nothing,” she said. “I just wasn’t getting much work done so I decided to come home and see my favorite boys.” She dropped to her knees and hugged the boys, who had come running as soon as they heard her unlocking the door.

“Mommy, bad man came,” Cabur told her. “Daddy said NO. I said you go! Bad man went away.” He acted out the whole scene, shaking his finger as he told her how Din had said “No” and pointing fiercely as he told her how he’d told Isard to go away.

“A bad man?” Mariana asked, looking up at Din.

He shrugged. “We ran into Jado Isard on the way home from the park,” he said briefly. “I had to tell him no again, but this time I think he got the message, thanks to Cabur.” He tousled the boy’s hair. Ad’ika shot him a sideways glance, but remained silent, letting his brother take all the credit. Din made a mental note to slip Ad’ika a little extra dessert before bedtime.

“Well, that must have been exciting,” Mariana said. “Why don’t we get cleaned up for dinner and you can tell me all about it while we eat?”

She seemed distracted as she helped him wash the boys’ hands and faces, and picked half-heartedly at her dinner. “Something’s up,” he said quietly, while the boys were busy eating. “Tell me.”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just a little tired.”

Din watched her closely. Her eyes looked a bit red, and the skin around them was puffy. She’d been crying.

“You had that med clinic appointment today,” he realized, blurting it out before thinking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted, a fake smile on her face. “I’m perfectly healthy, cyar’ika. I just … I have a little problem at work that’s been bothering me.” She shrugged. “I’ll tell you about it later, after the boys are asleep.”

She wouldn’t lie to him, so he took her at her word. Physically, she was fine, which was a relief, and he knew she’d confide in him when she was ready. Still, he did his best to tire the boys out after dinner so they’d be ready for bed early. If Mariana noticed, she gave no indication, her nose buried in her data pad as she studied for her upcoming exams.

Din bathed the boys himself, which he’d been doing a lot lately anyway, with Mariana working late so often and tucked them in with a bedtime story about a baby Mythosaur that he’d made up in desperation one night, and that had become one of Cabur’s favorites. When both boys finally drifted off to sleep, Din kissed them goodnight and went to join Mariana on the couch.

“Okay, they’re asleep,” he said. “So tell me what’s bothering you.”

Mariana put her data pad aside. “I … I just have a decision to make,” she began hesitantly. “One I don’t want to have to make but one that’s unavoidable.”

Din took her hand. “Tell me,” he urged.

She sighed. “You know I’ve been asked to coordinate the bibliography project for the Galactic History Consortium.” He nodded. “And I have classes. And I’m working for Professor Ti’lik.” She paused and he knew she was fighting back tears. “I’m going to have to give up something,” she said quietly. “Either the bibliography project or classes next term. I … I can’t do both.”

“Why not?” Din asked. “I thought Ti’lik was giving you some time off from her research project so you can concentrate on the Consortium project.”

“She is, but … there’s another project that I didn’t know about,” she said with a strange smile.

Din shook his head. “I’m confused.”

“When I was at the med clinic, I asked about replacing my contraceptive implant when it expires,” she said. “But turns out I was a little confused about the dates and it already expired … so I asked if we could replace it now and the doctor said she couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Din asked, although he was starting to suspect the answer.

“Because there’s no point in having an implant when you’re already pregnant,” Mariana said, squeezing his hand.

“A baby?” Din asked. “We’re having another baby?” He knew Mariana had mixed feelings about being pregnant right now but he felt a grin creeping over his face.

“Yes,” she said. He kissed her, then sat back. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

“You’re happy, aren’t you?,” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” she said quickly. “I just … the timing isn’t good … I was so excited about the Consortium project and I only have a few classes left to finish for my degree.” She pressed her forehead against his. “I don’t know what to do, Din.”

“What do you want to do?,” he asked.

“I want to do it all,” she said, exasperated. “I want to finish my degree, and work on the project for the Consortium, and the project for Professor Ti’lik, and be a good mother, and … I just can’t. I can’t do it all.” She started sobbing quietly and Din wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do it all. I’m here. We’ll figure this out.” He rubbed her back as she cried onto his shoulder.

“I can’t give up my job,” she said into his shirt. “We’d lose the subsidized housing, and the health care, and my free tuition. But if I keep working, I can’t take classes next term. Maybe not even the term after that.”

“You can’t quit school,” Din said.

“But the job is more important right now,” she said. “We’ve got the boys to think of.”

“Then keep working for Ti’lik and give up the Consortium project,” he suggested. “I know it’s a big deal, and a great move career-wise, but getting your degree is the most important thing, after the family.”

She sighed against him. “I know,” she said. “I just … I was supposed to meet with Professor Dane next week to give him an outline of my proposal for the project. Now I’ll have to tell him I can’t do it. I feel like I’m letting him down.”

“You aren’t letting anyone down, cyar’ika,” Din said. “You’re putting your family first. And the project isn’t even really off the ground yet, so it shouldn’t be too hard for him to find someone else to coordinate it.”

He kept on talking, comforting her as best he could, all while the thought, Another baby, another baby, we’re having another babybounced around inside his head. Finally, she pulled away from his shoulder enough to look him in the eye.

“Thank you,” she said. “I know you want to celebrate, and believe me, my love, I am truly happy about this.” She ran her finger down his nose, then let the tip linger on his lips. “I just wasn’t prepared for it.”

He smiled against her finger, then kissed it gently. “It’s a nice surprise,” he said.

“And at least this time when I found out, you were here, not off on some quest to preserve the honor of Mandalore,” she said, snuggling close.

“Um, about that …,” Din said.

She sat up, looking him in the eye. “What?”

“Before I told Isard to get lost again, he told me why he wanted my help,” he said carefully. “He claims to have the location of the wreck of an Old Republic ship that is rumored to have a cargo that included a large stash of beskar. He needs to pay off a debt to a Hutt, and he offered me half of whatever’s left after he pays that off … and all the beskar.” He looked down, ashamed to keep her gaze. “I … I was tempted. For about thirty seconds, until Ad’ika brought me to my senses.”

“We have enough beskar,” Mariana chided him softly, taking his hand and caressing his ring.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I sent a comm to the Mand’alor before you got home. I told her what Isard told me, and suggested she send someone to ‘persuade’ him to divulge the coordinates to her. If that cache of beskar really does exist, no one deserves it more than the people of Mandalore.”

“And you’re willing to let the glory of repatriating it go to someone else?,” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “A Mandalorian should retrieve it. And I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

She kissed him slowly. “No, you aren’t,” she said as she pulled back. “Are you okay with that?”

He slipped one arm behind her to pull her close, while the other pressed against her belly, searching for the child he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel yet, but that he already loved so fiercely. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m your husband. Ad’ika and Cabur’s father. This child’s father. That’s more than enough for me.”

***************************** The first thing Mariana did when she arrived at work the next day was contact the department secretary to find out Professor Dane’s schedule. He had two lectures in the morning, with a twenty minute break between them, and she set a reminder on her data pad so she could be at the lecture hall in time to catch him during the break.

Then she told Professor Ti’lik the news. “I am overjoyed for you,” Ti’lik said, wrapping here in an embrace so tight, Mariana was afraid she might have damaged a rib. “Bearing an offspring is a tremendous honor among my species. Of course, our gestation is much longer than yours, and entails a great deal of sacrifice of time and physical strength.” She’d told Mariana a bit about the ordeal of bearing her two offspring years ago, of the time spent sitting still so the fragile egg inside her gestation pocket did not break, of the long months after the egg hatched protecting the youngling as it grew in the pocket, of the arduous process of extracting the offspring from the pocket when it had grown large enough to survive in the outside world. It made human pregnancy seem like a minor inconvenience.

“Thank you,” she told Ti’lik once she could breathe again. “I need to talk to Professor Dane between his morning lectures, if that’s okay.”

Ti’lik huffed. “You don’t have to ask my permission, you know that.”

Mariana fidgeted with the items on her desk, not getting a bit of work done, until it was time to leave for the lecture hall. Professor Dane was just finishing up his first lecture when she arrived, and she waited in the hallway until the last student was gone.

“Mariana!” Dane said when he saw her come in. “I thought our meeting was next week!”

“It is,” she said. “But I needed to talk to you about something that can’t wait until then.”

He waved her further into the room and offered her a seat in the front row of the lecture hall, then sat down next to her. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m … I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline your offer to coordinate the Consortium Bibliography project,” she said quietly.

Dane blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said. “I just got a comm yesterday from Sian Tevv saying you’d asked him to join your team. He was very excited.”

“I know,” Mariana said. “But my situation has changed since I contacted him. I’m not going to have as much free time next term as I thought I would.”

“Why not? Professor Ti’lik said you’re ahead of schedule on her project,” Dane frowned.

“I found out yesterday that I’m pregnant,” she said.

“Congratulations,” Dane said. “But I still don’t understand why you have to give up the Consortium project.”

Mariana shook her head. “I can’t work for Ti’lik and take classes and do the bibliography project and still take care of myself,” she admitted. “I have to keep working, or I’ll lose the subsidized housing and my health care access. And I can’t quit school when I’m so close to getting my degree. My husband and I talked it over and it makes the most sense that I give up the Consortium project now while you have time to find someone else to take over.”

Dan sat back and nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like you’ve thought this out thoroughly,” he said after a moment, “but you’re forgetting one important bit of information.”

“What?” Mariana asked. “I’ve gone over the situation a million times.” She sighed in frustration.

Dane leaned forward and patted her hand. “One of the requirements for receiving a degree is completing a capstone project,” he said. “I don’t see why you can’t use the Consortium project for that. That way you’ll still earn credits this term without having to take any classes.”

“But, I thought I had to finish all the required courses before I could start a capstone,” she said.

Dane shrugged. “It’s not the way we normally do things, but we don’t normally hire undergraduates as research assistants, either.” He sat forward. “Ti’lik went out on a limb to hire you, and frankly some of us thought she was being a bit foolish, but you both proved us wrong, Mariana. I want you to join the department as soon as you’re qualified, and if we have to make a few unorthodox accommodations to make that happen, so be it.”

She sat back in her seat. Could it possibly be this easy to resolve her dilemma? “You don’t know what a relief this is,” she said after a long moment. “I’ve been fretting about this ….” She started laughing. “I guess that’s why you’re the professor and I’m still the student, right?”

Dane patted her shoulder. “The student will soon surpass the teacher,” he said, “but I’m glad I still have the advantage.” He stood up. “I need to prepare for my next lecture, but we’ll talk more at our meeting next week. And don’t worry about next term. We’ll work it all out. The most important thing is that you take care of yourself and that baby.” He smiled. “Give my best to your husband and those adorable boys of yours.”

Mariana was surprised. She’d never shown Professor Dane any holos of her sons. He chuckled. “Ti’lik showed me a holo she took on the day of the employee picnic,” he explained. “She is quite enamored of the older one. I think it’s because she has those green patches on her arms.” He winked. Ti’lik was very proud of her green patches, which meant she’d borne offspring, but she got gently teased by her colleagues for sometimes going a bit too far to show them off.

Her heart was much lighter as she walked back to the office. Ti’lik was not there, so she took the opportunity to comm Din and tell him what Professor Dane had said.

“Oh, cyar’ika, that’s wonderful,” he said, before ducking out of camera range to grab at something that one of the boys had pulled off the table where he’d propped his data pad. “Leave that alone,” his muffled voice said. “I’m talking to Mommy.” His head popped back into view. “Sorry about that. Cabur distracted me while Ad’ika stole my sonic spanner.”

“What are you fixing that needs a sonic spanner?,” she asked, stifling a laugh.

“Building a spaceship,” he said matter of factly. He held up a jumble of metal about the size of his forearm. “It was decided that the tauntauns need their own ship.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Well, good luck with that,” she said. “I’ll be home early tonight.”

“We’ll have dinner waiting for you,” Din said before a loud crash echoed behind him. “Kriff, what are you doing now, Ad’ika?” The comm link went dark and Mariana stopped stifling her laugh. She giggled for a good five minutes before she was able to get her mind back on her work.

Welcome to the circus, little one, she thought, addressing the child in her belly for the first time. Now that the initial shock had worn off, and her worries about work and school had been allayed, she was able to enjoy the prospect of bringing another Djarin into the world. I just hope the galaxy can handle five of us.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x original female character #grogu #baby yoda #pedro pascal character fiction

2 notes · View notes

almostempty · 3 months ago

Text

Paris, Texas pt. 2

aka: 2 Texans, 1 Lady 🎀 The joel x javi x f!reader threesome PART 2!!

WC: 8k | Other fics | Rating: 18+ | Read on Ao3 | PART ONE

Paris, Texas the video by my love

this one goes out to my fellow mlm fans and voyeurs, i hope it’s everything you wanted and more <3; dedicated to everyone that gets a tag bc i love you 5ever

Summary: Joel, still struggling with his conflicting feelings about the threesome with Javier, gets a surprise visit at work from the man himself that leaves him even more confused. After a week of seeing Javier in his dreams, he gets another surprise visit at work.

Note: it’s pretty heavy on the m/m action so if that’s not ur thing no worries you can still have a forehead kiss from me

Tags/warnings: pwp, smut on smut on smut, internalized homophobia, dubcon joel/javi, infidelity, oral (m and f), consensual f/m sleepy oral, m/m anal, it’s not exactly a cuck chair–but there is a chair and u get to watch from it, top!joel, bottom!javi, but also switchy/vers in the future bc, respectfully, i would to experience the best of all worlds, i do not have a dick (i’m just a member of the fanclub) so if any of the m/m action is wildly inconceivable or something pls let me know i’m happy to receive feedback (spit as lube just pretend ok), some angsty guilt and shame in between the smut bc joel is still in denial, uhh dom!joel, idk if contractors have offices and i spent too long googling about it before remembering the point was the porn so pls forgive if that ruins ur immersion, tell me if i forgot something important

standard almostempty warnings at this point: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise no descriptions of skin tone, blushing, hair, idk tell me if there’s something that takes you out (physically); everyone is probably bi; no y/n, no beta just fueled by the power of adhd and delusion, if u see a mistake it was the gremlins i’m sorry

PLEASE TELL ME IF U LIKE IT OR IF U HATE IT OR IF YOU WANT MORE

Joel is buried in paperwork. Permits and invoices are stacked up on his desk in organized chaos. The week has been a disaster. He blames his low-grade headache on the deadlines and number crunching, but he knows something else makes him uneasy. He rubs the pads of his fingers between his brows as if he could massage away the stress or erase the permanent worry line carved into his features.

The noises outside his office blend into static as he recommits himself to getting caught up.

He rolls up the sleeves of his worn plaid shirt, sighing to himself before he resumes. His pen scratches across a form he doesn’t care much about when the door to his offices creaks open.

His head snaps up, looking across the room with a sharp glare. He’s not in the mood for interruptions, and he's already irritated at being stuck behind a desk playing catch-up. He isn’t expecting the man that enters the room. Stifling a surprised noise, he narrows his eyes to a sharp glare. He’s not in the mood for work-related afternoon interruptions, let alone a surprise visitor.

“So, this is the boss’s office?” Javier’s voice is smooth like he didn’t just appear out of nowhere and uninvited.

“Yep,” Joel mutters, grip on his pen tightening in his fingers. Dropping his eyes back to his work, considering ignoring the man. Maybe he can will away the pest by avoiding eye contact and ignoring the intruder sizing up his space.

Javier scans the sparse office. Empty walls, bare bones, and practical.

Joel assumes he’ll have a snarky comment about the size of the room or the view. He keeps flipping through the paperwork in his hand, braced for Javier’s attitude. Joel is tense and prepared to snap back, but his shoulders are tight and stiff as if he’s been sleeping on concrete for a week.

The signature scent of Javier, spicy and smoky, fills the air. The fragrance stirs Joel's memories and causes a visceral reaction. It makes his gut churn and fingers itch with restlessness.

The last–and only–time he’s seen Javier plays out like a well-edited montage. New images flash every time he blinks. Dark eyes. Sweat glistening on Javier’s chest. Lips, tongues, and teeth, he tries to subtly shake the thoughts out of his head.

Javier drops into the chair in front of the desk, eyeing Joel with a casual bravado. He crosses one leg over the other, resting his ankle along his knee in his dark jeans and rusty red button-down. He links his hands behind his head as if he’s prepared to settle in and bask in Joel’s discomfort.

Javier’s eyes roam over Joel’s desk. “You don’t have a secretary for all that paperwork?” he muses. A smile pulls at the corner of Javier’s mouth that Joel could sense without looking at him. He can feel the heat of Javer’s gaze pouring over the desk between them, making the air feel heavy, thick with something unsaid.

Joel can feel his pulse jump in his throat, chest constricted. “Nope.” He hoped his clipped tone would push Javier out of the room, but that hope flickers and dies when he takes in the nonchalant sight. Irritation spikes in Joel at the whole disturbance. He’s not interested in letting Javier take up residence in his office. Or his mind.

“You need somethin’?” Joel’s throat feels dry as he spits out the blunt question. He flips through the next invoice without processing a single word on the page. He’s tired and has a low threshold after a week of poor sleep. Though, he’d never admit, except maybe to you, that he’s easily irritated even with a good night of rest. But you always slice right through his grumpy shell.

“Just in the neighborhood,” Javier drawls, “thought I’d stop by.”

“Right.” Joel rolls his eyes, ”We supposed to be friends now?” Or what? Something more?

Javier shrugs casually, like that’s up to Joel to decide.

Joel tosses his pen and paperwork onto his desk. He takes a breath, forcing his features into something neutral. The night you brought Javier into your home, and your bed has haunted him. Made it so he couldn’t think straight. Tortured him, not with regret, but with the messy, tangled knot of shame and desire.

Now Javier is here. In the flesh. Self-satisfied and content, watching Joel and waiting expectantly. Waiting for what?

“Is staring me down part of your ex-cop deal? You come here uninvited to interrogate me or something?” Joel accuses with annoyance in his eyes.

“I don’t need to interrogate you,” Javier answers, mellow and cloying, “already know what you want.” He shifts, leaning forward, speaking quieter. “Just wanted to see if you’ve figured it out yet.”

Joel works his jaw as he crosses his arms. A brick wall of resistance. The fuck is that supposed to mean?

He clocks when Javier’s eyes lower, tracing the line of his arms, the same way you do when you catch Joel in a mood. You so easily diffuse his anger, disarming him with your wit or completely dismantling him with your body, unlike the instigator in front of him, who seems to only get under Joel’s skin.

Joel lets out a deep sigh. Javier isn’t here to be friends.

“It was what she wanted,” Joel says, his eyes hard, his voice firm. It felt like a weak excuse the second the words left his mouth. Shit.

Javier can taste the blood in the water. His eyes glint at the thrill of the chase. “Is that all?”

The room feels like it’s shrinking. Heat crawls up the back of Joel’s neck, anger entwined with something else he refuses to name. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he replies, standing up from his chair, trying to tower over Javier in some pathetic attempt at dominance.

A move he immediately regrets.

Javier also stands, circling around the side of the desk to look Joel up and down. Boldly. He admires Contractor Joel. The way he fills out his well-fitted work jeans, the way his deep green plaid hugs his broad shoulders and strains around his biceps as he crosses his arms again.

The workwear suits him. A strikingly masculine figure. Powerful and seductive. Tempting Javier just by existing. “I get it,” Javier murmurs to himself, understanding what you’d mean when you first described Joel. The disgruntled expression, the furrowed brows and sharp eyes–he only makes it worse.

“Always thought the whole construction thing was a cheesy porn gimmick,” Javier admits, “you could pull it off though. You got the toolbelt and the hat?”

“You can leave,” Joel replies dryly.

Ignoring Joel, Javier steps closer, “I’m just saying,” he rests a finger on Joel’s shoulder, drawing a line down towards his chest. Joel’s body is rigid, the contact searing his skin even through the soft material of his shirt. “You look good. This is your color,” he tugs at the dark green fabric below Joel’s throat. He drops his hand, and Joel feels like the earth could swallow him whole.

Javier’s mock compliments make Joel’s stomach flip before he steels himself again. Javier flashes a diabolical smile, catching the flare of Joel’s eyes and the hard swallow of whatever retort he couldn’t muster.

“You’re really trying to convince yourself, aren’t you?” Javier’s voice is dripping with mock sympathy.

Violent, intrusive thoughts race through Joel’s mind—socking Javier in the jaw to wipe that smug look off his face, grabbing him by the collar and running him through the wall, slamming him onto the desk. Face down so he could lean over his body and tell him, hot breath on the back of his neck, that he’s about to learn to watch his mouth.

Joel’s hands flex, knuckles popping, and heat stirs at the base of his spine at the dark desires. Suddenly, very aware of their close proximity. Close enough to feel the heat of Javier’s body, and to see the unwavering confidence in his face.

Amused by Joel’s volatility, Javier scoffs gently. His warm breath fans between them, and a smirk spreads on his face. Out of context, it’s only a gentle tease. A flirty smile and charged moment. But to Joel, strained like the last barricade holding back a beast, it’s too much. He snaps, and the beast gnashes its teeth.

“Get fucked,” Joel’s voice is a rumbly, low growl.

Javier’s smirk blooms into a Cheshire Cat grin. “I’d ask if you were offering, but I don’t think you’ve got it in you.”

Blood pounds in Joel’s ears. Drowning out the voice that wonders why Javier can rile him up so easily. The reminder that he’s got no reason to be jealous. That you’ve done nothing to make him worry.

“You were only doing it for her, huh?” Javier’s voice was quieter but still laced with danger.

Joel’s jaw is clenched tight when he replies, “Yep.” It doesn’t carry the conviction he needed to convey.

“Shame she isn’t here now, then,” Javier keeps pressing. The honesty in his tone throws Joel off.

“Would do anything for her,” Joel adds, softening fractionally at the truth in it.

“Anything?” Javier repeats.

“S’right.”

“For her.”

“For her,” Joel nods in agreement. Letting out a breath, he didn’t realize he had been holding. Javier rocks back on his heels like he’s about to turn and stroll away, satisfied by God knows what part of that interaction.

But he pauses.

Time feels weighted until Javier moves in closer. Another smile breaks across his face at how easily he can shock Joel into a trance with his audacity. Acting in defiance of all of Joel’s words.

His hand snakes up Joel’s chest until his fingers are slipping between the curls at the base of his skull. He leans in close, lips ghosting over the shell of Joel’s ear, “Is this for her too?” He shifts back half a step, and with the hand on the back of Joel’s head, he urges him to look down.

Javier’s hand had moved between them, palming the bulge in Joel’s jeans, his fingers pressing against his erection through the denim. Joel’s lips part, his whole body jerking forward instinctively, and a low groan rumbles in his chest before he can stop it.

Javier’s smirk deepened. “That’s what I thought.”

For a moment, Joel’s mind blanks out, lost in the haze of physical sensation. His body reacts before his brain catches up.

“The fuck are you doing?” Joel snaps, grabbing Javier’s wrist and yanking it away. His voice is hoarse, breath ragged.

“Anyone could walk in here.”

Javier didn’t pull away; he didn’t flinch. His head cocks in contemplation at Joel’s specific reasoning.

Leaning in closer, Javier’s voice drips with amusement. “You’re afraid of them?” he nods towards the door. “Worried about what? That your crew is gonna find out their boss likes cock?” he laughs softly, a dark, teasing sound.

Joel’s chest heaves, heart pounding. Anger, lust, and frustration all swirling together inside of him.

“You think they won’t take orders from you if they hear the noises you make for me?”

He knows Javier is running his mouth to provoke him. But it works on him anyway. Joel huffs dismissively, without a thought, “You think I’d make a sound for you?”

“I think you’ll beg me to stop before you do.”

Before he can dwell on the ramifications, Joel acts on impulse. Stepping back, his face hardening as he stares Javier down. That smug bastard. He’s consumed with a defiant urge to remove that smirk from Javier’s face.

“On your knees,” he orders, his voice cold, flat, and restrained.

Javier’s eyebrow raises, lips curling into a lazy smile. “Why, Joel?” he asks, voice playful.

“You know why.” The presumption is underscored by the sound of Joel’s belt clinking before he unzips his jeans. He grips the base of his thick cock, menacing and erotic, as he keeps his hard gaze on Javier.

He accepts the challenge, kneeling slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“Yeah,” Javier murmurs, “you look even better like this. All frustrated and desperate to be touched.” His voice is thick and low, like molasses. Almost reverent, but at the same time gloating, as if Javier’s only proving himself right. It’s infuriating to Joel that the man can so freely express his desire and rile Joel up further with the same words.

Javier’s hand covers Joel’s as he gives Joel’s cock an experimental stroke. Joel hisses through clenched teeth, slamming his eyes shut and tilting his head up to break the eye contact. To sever the intimacy. He’s taut, impatient, and ready to snap.

Until Javier’s lips wrap around his weeping tip, and they both groan in unison at the sensation. The wet heat of his mouth sends a sharp throb of pleasure through Joel. The intensity causes his hand to shoot out to his desk, fingers digging into the edge in an attempt to ground himself.

But it’s no use.

Javier knows exactly what he’s doing, taking him deep, fast, his mouth warm and eager. His hands work in symphony with his mouth, twisting around his length, massaging at his thighs and hips, deliberate and competent. He has nothing to be shy or restrained about.

Sinking into the pleasure, Joel starts to reason with himself. A mouth is a mouth, he can allow himself to have this, to let himself enjoy it.

And he does.

Javier’s tongue teases underneath the sensitive head of Joel’s cock before he slides past his lips, along the flat of his tongue, and deep into his throat. It’s good. Why is it so fucking good? Joel’s head tips back down, blinking his eyes open. His body shudders.

It’s not just a mouth.

Seeing Javier’s head bobbing, his cock disappearing past the man’s lips, it stirs something wild and untamed within him.

It’s a mistake to finally look. To really watch, taking it all in. The handsome features on Javier’s face, the unapologetic pleasure he takes from every reaction he pulls from Joel’s body. The strength and finesse of his hands are so different from you. He’s drawn to follow the movement of Javier’s hand dropping to readjust himself, to ease the pressure on his own aching cock.

The brief friction looses a moan from Javier, vibrating around Joel’s length. It’s undeniably fucking hot. Joel’s control slips, possessed by his urges.

He reaches for Javier’s face to cup his jaw and hold him still. And he gives in. Fucking into Javier’s mouth, hips jerking recklessly. It’s a desperate strain to tamp down the groans clawing at his throat, and it doesn’t help when Javier watches him with his half-lidded eyes. No.

“Shit,” he admonishes himself. Suppressing the captivating draw he feels. He tries to find focus, to keep it together–but there’s a loud knock that staggers him.

A voice, muffled outside of his office door, shouts to him, “There’s a vendor here, says he needs your sign-off.”

Joel’s breath hitches, “Fuck,” he spits, hands grasping the desk and Javier’s jaw, forcing out a coherent response. “Be there in a minute!” he calls out, voice strangled.

Javier doesn’t stop. He doubles down, hollowing his cheeks and greedily coaxing Joel to lose control. And, of course, he does. Joel’s climax hits fast and hard. His last attempts to stifle any noises falter. He gasps, body jerking as he comes, spilling into Javier’s mouth.

Dazed, he can only blink as Javier pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking.

“Seems to me like that was just for you.”

Joel is wrecked, leaning against the desk, his heart racing. He doesn’t have time to process anything before Javier kisses him—brief, chaste, leaving behind the taste of himself on his lips.

“Better get out there before anyone worries, boss,” Javier whispers with a wink before walking out of the office, leaving Joel standing there, stunned, unable to move.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Joel isn’t sure if the knot in his stomach is anger, guilt, or worse, wanting more.

Seems to me like that was just for you.

It echoes, slowly settling over Joel.

He nearly doubles over when the reality finally hits. His thoughts race, consumed by the thought of you. What did he just do?

…………..

Joel is wracked with guilt and misery for days. Suffering in his own self-imposed torment.

He needs to tell you, but he can’t figure out how. There’s no version of, “Hey baby, you know the guy from the threesome? The one that I threatened to kick out of the house? Well, he showed up to my office, and I may have come down his throat before he disappeared without a trace like a dick-sucking fairy.” that he can come up with that sounds redeemable.

Worse, he still can’t get over the guilt and shame of how it even happened. Seduced by another man? He can’t fathom the reality that another man could turn him on, refuting the way he felt when he watched Javier sink to his knees. And rejecting the truth when his cock stirs at just the memory. Joel is at a complete loss for how to explain it away.

It fucks with his sleep. He jolts awake in the middle of the night, aching and hard and furious that Javier has invaded his dreams. He sits up in bed, dragging his hands over his face. And you stir, always attuned to him.

You’re warm and sleepy, but concern washes over you in the moonlight.

“Can’t sleep?” you murmur, reaching out to pull him towards you. “What do you need?” Always so grounded, so considerate. It twists the guilt inside of him. He tries to erase his self-loathing and reassure you, to ease you back to sleep.

You aren’t quite conscious enough to listen, but when you shuffle beneath the sheets to cuddle up to your man, you gasp when you accidentally brush over his hard cock. Not because it’s a shock to find, but because in your barely lucid state, you’re uninhibited. Earnestly expressing the desire his arousal sparks in you.

“Use me,” you whisper, slow and syrupy. Difficult to deny.

“No, baby, it’s okay. Go back to sleep,” Joel argues softly.

You roll over, muffling a low whine into your pillow, before turning back towards Joel. You can make out his profile in the dim glow of the room. You can feel the resistance, but you give it another shot.

“It’s not okay,” you grumble, and his head jerks towards you, “can’t go back to sleep now, you’ve got me all wet already.”

“Okay,” he gives in like he could ever hold out on you anyway. He pulls back the sheet, exposing your sleep-warmed skin to the cooler air. Running his palm down your spine as you melt face down on the bed. He crawls overtop of you, straddling behind the curve of your ass, before lowering himself, caging you under his body.

The skin contact is overwhelmingly intimate as he presses soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. You settle with ease and whine softly into the dark room as he rubs his cock along your slick folds. He continues, grunting in his own pleasure, as he glides along your seam, soaking in the sensation of you. Wet and needy from his touch. Until your legs are twitching and your whines grow louder, impatient, and sharp until he hears you say his name. When you plead for him to fuck you already.

Then. He adjusts and sinks slowly into you, filling you inch by inch, grinding languidly against your plush body.

You’re soft. Warm and wet. You take him so well, and he knows how to find the angles to make you shake and cry out for him. Now he chases it, needing to please you, to give himself to you. He plunges into you deeply, whispering praise against your skin until you’re shuddering and gasping beneath him. He nearly comes with you, but when the thought of Javier pops up, he falters. He pulls out of you and gently flips you over.

“Sleep,” he commands as he settles between your legs, and you let it take you. Drifting off before you can process that he didn’t finish. Content to dream about Joel’s tongue dipping into your fluttering entrance and his hands spreading your legs wider.

Joel stays between your legs, making your dream a reality. Trying to purify himself by worshipping you. Pouring his sins out between your thighs. Seeking forgiveness through your pleasure until he’s too tired to dream.

He’s convinced this method will work. That eventually, he’ll forget about Javier altogether. But Joel underestimates how deeply the other man has sunk his claws into the back of his mind. It’s unsustainable, and his exhaustion becomes more and more apparent throughout the week.

Despite thinking he’s able to cover up his internal torment, you always seem to know when something is wrong. You don’t push. You’re patient and gentle with him. It adds to his guilt.

You help out in any way you can. Commenting that he seems stressed and tired but never asking for an explanation. You let him stew on his own emotional nightmare in solitude. As he prefers.

For now.

When Joel admits to you on Friday night that he’s behind at work, you simply nod. He doesn’t argue when you offer to bring lunch to him the next day. But he can barely meet your eyes when you smile and trail off about how you know just what will help him get through the day.

You tell him decisively that he deserves to finish up early if he’s going to the office on a Saturday. He can only nod. Determined to spend the morning figuring out how to confess to you. With words.

He’s still in a haze of fatigue the next day. Despite the rest of the office being quiet, his head is loud and buzzing. Likely the reason he’s so taken off guard when the door to his office swings open.

“Working on the weekend?”

Joel’s pulse spikes as the sound of Javier’s voice fills the room, smooth and mischevous.

Anger floods his bloodstream and cuts through the fog of shame that had been clouding his vision. Joel crosses his arms and levels a ruthless glare at the man leaning against the doorframe.

Javier should be the one that looks out of place. Overdressed for the occasion, in the wrong place. But he stands confidently, neatly groomed, and polished. His dark blue collared shirt and fitted jeans highlight his broad shoulders. He looks like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, and his expression says he knows it.

“No,” Joel says gruffly. Unperturbed, Javier sails into the room.

“I don’t have time for this. Get out.” Joel says, his voice low, dangerous. He stands, hips leaning against his desk, prepared to back up his threat. His tolerance is already out the window for Javier.

Javier shrugs, movements so fluid in relation to Joel’s fixed demeanor.

“You didn’t say please.” His smirk is maddening. Joel’s fuse is short. He’s not interested in games. Not interested in having anything to do with his surprise guest at all. But he doesn’t move. Words caught in his throat.

“Besides,” Javier continues breezily, “you aren’t very convincing. I told you last time, I like this look on you, all mad and–”

Joel feels thorns clawing at his throat. Furious that his nerves flutter in response to Javier’s backward flattery. He can’t be thinking straight, that’s all.

In fact, it’s damned near impossible to think when Javier keeps running his mouth, pushing every button he’s got.

“Fuck you,” Joel hisses, vibrating with frustration, cutting off whatever Javier’s next words would have been.

Amused by the interruption, Javier’s smile widens, eyes gleaming. “Mm,” he purrs, stepping closer, “You would like to, wouldn’t you?”

That’s it.

Joel snaps, his hand shoots out, grabbing Javier by the front of his shirt and shoving him roughly against the nearest wall. The loud thud of Javier’s back hitting the drywall echoes in the small office. But the smirk on Javier’s face only deepens.

“Touchy today, aren’t you?” Javier teases, breath coming out in a soft laugh. His body is pinned between the wall and Joel’s, but he doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, he looks pleased with the predicament.

Joel’s breath is coming out hard and fast, fists still gripping the fabric of Javier’s shirt. This is the last person he wants to see right now. He seethes. Pent up and compressed into a dangerous coil.

“You think this is funny?” Joel snarls, his face mere inches from Javier’s.

Javier’s smile softens into something darker, more intimate. “A little,” he admits, leaning in just enough that their noses almost brush. “But, you seem to be taking it pretty seriously.” Javier shifts under Joel’s grip, his hands skirting up Joel’s waist. “You’re so worked up.”

Joel grits his teeth, a ferocious-looking expression that only eggs Javier on.

Dropping to a whisper to demand that Joel listens closely, Javier adds, “Maybe you’re not mad at me at all.”

Before Joel can snap back, Javier shifts, movements effortless and exact.

In an instant, Joel finds himself flipped, his back flat against the wall, slammed with a force that he wasn’t expecting. Javier’s arm presses across Joel’s chest, and his hips press against Joel’s in a way that sends a hot wave of need shooting down Joel’s spine.

“Maybe,” Javier murmurs, lips to Joel’s ear, “you’re just mad at yourself.” Javier rocks his hips into Joel’s, grinding against his body in a slow, deliberate motion. A shudder ripples through Joel’s frame, even as his mind rebels against the thrill. “Denying the truth.” He emphasizes his point, pelvis pressing into Joel’s hardening cock, rolling his hips again. “Denying the pleasure.”

No. Joel holds out. He isn’t going there. Not now, not ever.

But damn, the way Javier has him, the heat of his body against Joel’s. It tugs at the tangled knot of confusion in his chest. The knot that’s close to unraveling.

“Fuck you,” Joel spits again, but it lacks the venom from earlier. His voice is a little shaky, resolve crumbling the longer Javier stays this close.

Javier smiles, his lips brushing against Joel’s jaw. “Say it, Joel.” He’s all-consuming, like a tidal wave crashing over and destroying all of Joel’s hastily constructed defenses. Javier is a relentless force.

“Say it,” Javier demands. “I already know. Knew the first night we met,” he murmurs. “Just need to hear you say it.”

Joel’s heart pounds against his chest, and his mind races. He wants to shove Javier off, wants to do anything other than stand there and feel his body respond to every damn word Javier says. Instead, he can’t seem to do anything. Can’t stop the muscles spasming in his core, or the way his chest heaves under Javier’s arm.

“You can’t, though,” Javier whispers, his voice a dark, teasing rumble. He drops his arm, releasing Joel from his hold. “Such a shame. I wanted to know what you could do with that pretty cock of yours.”

That was the last straw.

Joel grabs Javier by the waist, roughly spinning him around, and shoving him face-first onto the desk.

“You wanna know what I can do with it?” his voice is harsh and wild.

A reckless energy blazes between them. He pushes Javier down, leaning over him, chest pressed into Javier’s back. One hand snakes down Javier’s side, stopping at his hip. The other hand firmly planted on the back of Javier’s neck, pinning him down.

Javier catches his breath. He doesn’t resist. If anything, he leans into it, arching his back, breath coming out in soft pants as Joel’s firm body boxes him in. With their bodies pressed tightly together, Joel’s straining erection isn’t subtle. “That’s more like it,” Javier murmurs, breathless but still smug.

“Shut up,” Joel’s voice is hoarse. He is losing himself in it, the heat, the tension. Javier’s solid, toned body beneath his. He doesn’t want to think anymore. Doesn’t want to feel. He just wants to take control. To push past all the noise in his head.

His body is on fire. Adrenaline, testosterone, and arousal all surge through him. Heightening every sensation, forcing him to be present. Rooted in his physicality.

Gritting his teeth, Joel’s hands grip Javier tighter, a bruising force.

“You’re gonna be good now,” Joel orders, “For me.” His voice is rough dark, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide the anger—or the heat—coursing through him. He can’t deny it right now, not when it burns so intensely.

He shifts his stance behind Javier, grinding his hips forward and feeling how Javier’s body responds. How he invites the contact and braces against the desk. Sweet, thick satisfaction pools at the base of Joel’s spine.

Javier is still mouthing off, taunting Joel. Despite his voice sounding more breathless, it still brims with arrogance. “For you,” Javier repeats Joel’s words. “I thought it was all just for her? Have you changed your mind now?”

Joel doesn’t answer. He’s too far gone. His hands move to the waistband of Javier’s jeans, yanking them down roughly, exposing the curve of his ass. Javier lets out a small gasp but doesn’t protest. In fact, Joel can feel the anticipation humming in Javier’s body, and he’s amused when Javier presses back as if he needs to dare Joel to go further. As if he could stop now.

Curling over Javier’s body, Joel presses his fingers to Javier’s mouth. “Suck.” Javier complies, allowing Joel to slip two fingers past his lips. Javier lets a hum vibrate around Joel’s fingers that causes Joel to roll his hips, grinding his still-clothed erection against Javier.

Losing the war with himself, Joel takes out his resentment on Javier. He hooks his fingers into Javier’s cheek–jerking his head to the side. He glowers at the signs of arousal on Javier’s face. The undignified hunger.

Remnants of disgust curdle in Joel’s gut. “You’re fuckin’ sick,” he accuses in a husky whisper, removing his fingers and straightening, breaking the eye contact that stirred something fierce and hot in his veins.

Accusations aside, Joel continues. He watches, smirking to himself, as Javier tenses at the sudden contact when Joel runs his hand over the curve of his ass. He takes his time. Enjoying his own exploration of Javier’s body. Smooth skin and firm and muscular.

When he slowly pushes a finger inside, Javier’s body tenses at first, but Joel is persistent, working in deeper and stretching him open.

Javier lets out a soft moan, still managing to sound smug even with the sharp gasp that follows. “You act all pissed,” Javier’s whispers, “but you love this.” His voice drips like warm honey with a teasing bite.

Joel grunts, ignoring the taunts, focusing instead on the way Javier’s body relaxes beneath him, allowing him to add another finger. Javier’s breath hitches and he drops his head onto the desk.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, “you like that.”

His words on encourage Javier to continue, “Know you wanted this,” he breathes, “that you’ve been thinking about it since last time, since the first time.” He continues his murmuring, words spilling over Joel’s desk, “I know because you’ve been in my fuckin’ head since that night.”

“You’ve got an awful smart for someone in your position,” he continues, mindlessly flipping the attitude back at Javier, pointedly ignoring his confession.

A strained chuckle comes from Javier, his body tightening with every twist of Joel’s fingers. “You still think you’re in control here?” he breathes, voice challenging and raw. “You’ve got no idea.”

Joel pulls his fingers out abruptly, letting out a throaty growl as he shoves his jeans down just far enough to free himself. He spits in his hand, slicking himself up with rough, hurried strokes, his mind focused on the sight of Javier bent over his desk, waiting for more, begging for it.

“Let’s see if you can keep running your mouth with my cock inside you,” Joel’s voice is layered with satisfaction. A challenge. He’s firm, gripping Javier’s hips and lining himself up. The room feels still, their ragged breath the only sound filling the air.

He feeds his cock into Javier slowly. The tight heat of Javier’s body draws a guttural noise out of Joel, and he pauses for just a moment, letting the sensation wash over him. Then he pushes in deeper, inch by inch.

Javier lets out a sharp moan, hands balling into fists against the flat top of the desk. “Fuck,” he breathes, and this time there’s no teasing edge, just raw need.

Holding still while they both catch their breath, Joel’s hands dig tightly into Javier’s hips, anchoring the two of them together. He buries himself to the hilt, savoring the overwhelming sensation of heat and friction.

And then he starts to move.

Slowly, at first. Deliberate. He moves with measured control, hips snapping forward, pushing deeper with every stroke. Javier groans beneath him, then manages to mumble something about Joel being desperate, about how much he wanted this, but the words are broken, breathless.

“Yeah?” Joel growls, picking up the pace, his movements growing rougher, harder. “That’s what you think?”

Javier’s body jerks with each powerful thrust, breath coming in short bursts. “I know it,” he rasps, his grip on the desk tightening as Joel relentlessly continues. Slamming into him harder now, control beginning to slip.

“You talk too much,” Joel decides, pounding harshly into Javier, reveling in the sweet clench as his pelvis meets Javier’s ass. He’s entranced by the sensation, the skin-to-skin contact, the heat, sweat, and musk.

Joel feels reckless. Intoxicated with the rush of adrenaline and dopamine. Chasing an escape and taking it out on Javier. He is distantly aware that Javier has stopped with his taunting. The only sound either of them makes are low groans and throaty grunts as he pounds into the man beneath him.

So absorbed with the immorality and the thrill he’s blind to the rest of the world and the rest of the room.

Until the door opens.

Joel freezes, his heart dropping into his stomach.

It’s you.

You shut the door, locking it, before turning back to face both men. Joel’s mind goes blank. His body is still pressed against Javier, his hands still grip his hips, his body flush against his.

For a split second, he thinks he can pull away and cover up the situation somehow, but there is nothing that can explain this away. No excuse. No cover story. His body runs cold, at a loss for words, mouth agape.

Then he sees the look on your face.

You stand still, like a prey animal caught in the line of sight of two apex predators. You can see the fear in Joel’s eyes, and your heart lurches, aching to comfort him. But the rest of the scene has you stopped in your tracks.

Joel sees your eyes widen; your breath is shallow, but there’s no shock. No confusion or hurt. Just a raw, undeniable hunger. You aren’t prey.

You stand, taking in the sight of Joel fucking Javier into his desk, and your lips part in a small, breathless sigh.

Javier turns to take you in, noticing the shift in the room, but he doesn’t pull away either. He is glowing, flashing his teeth with a wicked smile. The locks of hair on his forehead are damp with sweat, and his chest heaves as he remains braced atop the desk across from you.

“Look who’s here to watch. Her own private show.”

Joel swallows hard, still buried deep inside of Javier, his heart races. Adrenaline and arousal tangle together in a haze that leaves him unsure and adrift.

You step further into the room, your gaze never leaving Joel’s as you cross the room. Setting down the lunch you brought, you perch on the edge of the chair that sits in front of the desk.

“Don’t stop,” you encourage.

Joel still looks like he’s forgotten how to blink or breathe.

“The deli had a long line, and I couldn’t get parking,” you trail off a little breathlessly, watching the confusion on your man’s face.

Statuesque and still, Joel is dumbfounded that you’re talking about being late for lunch while he’s balls-deep in the man bent over his desk. Is this real life? He’s been plagued with dreams of Javier for the last two weeks, waking up hard and sweating. But they weren’t like this. None of them were like this.

“Don’t stop,” you repeat, voice dropping, sultry and encouraging. But he’s still locked in a trance.

“Can’t perform for an audience this time?” Javier quips, and Joel can hear the eye roll in his tone.

Joel swallows hard, his mind spinning. He doesn’t know what to make of this. How to handle the fact that you’re here, watching. But with the heat in your eyes and the lack of surprise, you seem so relaxed–no, you’re enjoying this.

That does something to Joel.

Something dangerous.

The invitation in your eyes sets him off.

“She said don’t stop,” Javier continues on, smirking playfully at you, pushing back against Joel.

Slowly, Joel regains feeling in his body. His hold on Javier constricting, his breath steadying, “I won’t.” He starts to move again, indulging in the sensation as he slowly drags his cock almost all of the way out before burying himself deep with a harsh snap of his hips. The motion forces a gravelly moan out of Javier that makes your cheeks hot.

Joel continues, unhurried, fixed on the expression on your face and the depravity of the situation. You have a sparkle in your eye that he’s familiar with. “You knew,” Joel states. You nod in affirmation, a grin spreading on your face.

“I set it up,” you whisper.

Your admission hangs in the air. The sex-filled, debacherously thick air. Joel's remaining hesitance dissipates as it all sinks in. Washing away the fear of being caught or ashamed. He can see the glow on your face, your eyes dark--blown out with lust, wetting your lips as you wait for more. He can ask questions later.

For you.

He tells himself, dismissing the last of the voices in the back of his mind.

You can see the gears turning in Joel’s head before something settles in, and the dark look he gives you makes your body burn up. Joel grunts, and you nearly melt, knees weak at the eroticism. It’s a good thing you’re seated.

Joel slams harder into Javier, giving in to the primal heat driving him forward. Every broken breath from Javier feeds Joel’s growing need. His intensity shoots straight to your core. Your cunt throbs between your legs. You settle back into the chair, savoring the fruits of your labor.

Your eyes trail over both men. It’s better than you could’ve imagined. You only wish you’d been in the room last week. However, getting the details from Javier kept you aching all week, even with Joel’s newly acquired midnight oral fixation.

You feel the hungry look on your face, gaze darkening as you marvel at the lewd scene. You don’t wait for Joel’s approval. Hand dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts, slipping over the seam of your pussy, already needy and wet from the debased view of the two gorgeous men.

“Oh, shit,” Javier’s eyes nearly roll back as he watches you, eyes flicking from your hand disappearing beneath your shorts and up to your face.

Your lips part, arousal flooding your body at the dynamic between both men. You watch them in awe, like your very own porn starring your two favorite men. It’s indescribably hot to see you Joel so unraveled, his teeth clenched in a feral snarl as he continues. And to see Javier so blissed out beneath him.

“Show me,” Joel’s plea sends a tingly thrill down your spine. You remove your hand from between your legs to show off the tips of your fingers, glistening from tracing your slick folds. The way both men are glued to your display gives you a different thrill, something powerful and bright that starts in your chest and flows through your body. “Show me everything, baby,” his gruff voice is irrefutable.

You slip the shorts off, spreading your legs wide and parting yourself boldly to give your men their own private show. You trace your fingers from your entrance to your clit, drawing circles and seeking relief from the pulsing need that has you already feeling precariously close to the edge.

Joel’s breath comes in harsh pants now, body slick with sweat. The desk rattles beneath them as he drives into Javier, losing himself in the rhythm, the heat, the friction, and in the sounds Javier makes–those desperate moans, ragged breaths, the way he was trembling beneath Joel, taking it all.

And all the while, Joel’s gaze flicks back to you, watching the way your breath quickens, the way you touch yourself more urgently. Like a live wire had been lit between the three of you, charging the room with an intensity Joel had never felt before.

You’re spread out in front of both of them, a vision he’ll never forget. You freely let out soft whimpers and sweet whines that drive him wild. It all surges through Joel like a fever, threatening to consume him and driving him harder into Javier, who lets out a strangled moan.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you sound frustrated. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are like this–shit.” You watch them with rapt attention, your hand moving quickly between your legs as you touch yourself. Joel can hear the soft, slick sounds of your fingers working and can see the way your body shivers with the same need that builds inside both men.

Your soft moans fill the room, blending with Javier’s broken gasps and Joel’s deep, gruff groans, creating a symphony of debased pleasure.

“Let’s see,” Joel encourages you in a hoarse voice. You can feel all of the need radiating from both men, it’s salacious and empowering. Joel’s gaze stays on you as he pounds into Javier, watching as you arch your back slightly, fingers working faster. Your parted lips and breathless noises make Joel’s pulse pike.

“I’m gonna come,” You can’t stop drawing out deep and bright waves of pleasure as your eyes dance in a flurry between Joel and Javier, taking in every detail. You can vaguely hear Joel’s praise as you work through the sensations. Panting shallowly, you’re fixed back on them as you start to relax.

Joel’s cock throbs inside Javier as he watches you, and for a brief moment, his rhythm falters, overwhelmed by how much it was turning him on to see you like this, to know you were getting off watching him like this.

Having caught on to Joel’s shift in focus, Javier lets out a choppy laugh. His own voice cracks with need. “She likes watching you fuck me,” he says, his words slurred with pleasure. “Look at her,” he begs in earnest.

“Shut up,” Joel grits out.

But Javier only laughs again, his voice still jagged. “Can’t blame her,” he continues, testing Joel’s patience. “Told you already, that sexy angry look you get–”

Joel doesn’t let him finish. He slams forward, thrusting into him deep and hard. Cutting Javier’s words off with a loud, choked moan. “Talk too fuckin’ much,” Joel spits out roughly as he leans over, his chest pressing against Javier’s back.

Joel catches the telltale hitch in Javier’s breath, the sharp, desperate moan that slipped from his lips as his need builds, coiling tight in his gut. He slides a hand over the curve of Javier’s ass, snaking around his hip, tracing over the curls at the base of his cock, and finally wrapping his fingers around his length.

Javier’s entire body jolts, clenching tightly around Joel at the contact. Joel strokes Javier’s cock firmly, matching the rhythm of his own thrusting. He revels in the delicious sensation of Javier tensing beneath him, and his breath catches in his throat.

The display of dominance and ego keeps you enthralled. Skin ablaze as you can barely keep up with the intensity of the two of them. You sink two fingers into your throbbing cunt, aching to feel filled and as wrecked as Javier seems.

Javier’s body clenches tightly around Joel as he watches you come in front of them, for them, but Joel isn’t about to stop. “You,” Joel growls as he pulls Javier’s head back just enough to hear him better. “You’re next.”

“Just–fuck,” Javier groans, hips pushing back to meet every thrust, practically vibrating under Joel, the usual cockiness faltering and replaced with something more intimate. “Don’t stop.”

Grinning through clenched teeth, leaning forward, breath hot against Javier’s ear, Joel’s voice is velvety smooth, “I know.”

“You gonna come for me?” Joel asks, his fist tightening as he jerks Javier’s cock, his other hand holding him steady by the hips.

“Please,” you add, desperate to see them fall apart.

“You–” Javier’s head drops forward, his voice a ragged gasp. He can’t finish the sentence as Joel slams forward, his hand moving faster and harder as he feels Javier’s cock pulsing in his grip.

“Come on,” Joel taunts now, rough and demanding. “Do as you’re told for once, Javier, come for me.”

And with a sharp gasp and cry, Javier’s body tenses, his cock jerking in Joel’s hand as he comes. The sheer intensity of his release is all too much.

Javier slumps forward, panting and spent, Joel’s gaze shoots back to you. The sight of you–the way you are losing yourself in watching them–makes Joel’s entire body light up with a new intensity.

You let out another soft groan, your gaze locked on Joel’s as you touch yourself, your fingers glossy with slick arousal. “Fuck, Joel,” you whisper. “Please.”

His body reacts immediately to the sound of your voice, the sight of you so undone, and he knows he’s close. He can feel the way his cock throbs inside of Javier, the heat of his release building in his gut, tightening with every rough movement. But this. Having you here, watching pushes him to the edge in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Hips stuttering, Joel’s orgasm tears through him. Groaning deep within his chest, his body jerks forward as he comes inside of Javier. His fingers dig so hard into Javier’s hips that he knows he’s going to leave bruises.

Javier shudders beneath him, panting, body spent, but still bracing himself against the desk as Joel rides out the last of his release, breath coming in harsh, uneven pants. He looks at you, and a grin spreads on his face. The wrung-out expression really does it for you.

Your eyes are half-lidded, face hot with arousal, fingers desperately reaching for the sensitive spot inside your cunt that Joel reaches with ease. Both men’s dark eyes rake over your body, spurring you on. Writhing under your own hands and their heady expressions.

“Goddamn,” Javier breathes raggedly, but his tone is laced with admiration as he watches you. It makes you glow. “So pretty like that.” You moan louder, body arching as you ride the edge of your release.

“Such a good girl,” Joel says. “Come for us.”

With a shattered breath, you come–moans filling the room as your core contacts in waves. Until you’re cursing and panting softly. Letting the praise flowing from Joel and Javier wash over you. You giggle softly, acknowledging you feel more cockdrunk than the two of them look despite only watching.

You feel a warmth settling between the three of you.

It makes your limbs feel loose and floaty as you smile lazily, watching both men tuck their softening cocks back into their jeans. You swell with pride. For your own luck, snagging two incredibly gorgeous men. And for successfully executing your plan.

You know there’s more work to do. You catch the awkward pauses and shuffling, but you can only allow your heart to swell as Joel helps you to your feet as if your legs stopped working. A deep-seated contentment unfurls in your chest when his arms wrap around you. And when he releases you, watching as you pull Javier towards you, you remain hopeful.

You’ve got more in mind for your two Texans.

divider: @cyberangel-graphics

lomls:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

@94namkooksworld

@gothcsz

@thundermartini

@magneticecstasy

@witchofthedeepwoods

@txlady37

@oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff

@bitchesuntitled

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@tobethlehem

@amanitacowboy

@lotusbxtch

@qveerthe0ry

@ace-turned-confused

252 notes · View notes

milla-frenchy · 9 months ago

Text

Owned

354 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, possessiveness, piv, creampie a/n: Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

series masterlist | Masterlist | ao3

“Fuck…spread your legs for me. Yeah, just like that. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel was holding your knees on either side of your head, hands resting on the back of your thighs, as he was thrusting in hard and fast. His gaze was down at your pussy taking his big cock, splitting you in two, and sometimes your mouth could barely make any sounds other than moans.

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, baby girl? Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to ruin my cunt, daddy…”

“Fuck…I'm already holding back from sending my load baby…this little pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

He sped up slightly, to give you what you wanted and gritted his teeth, frowning.

“That’s what you wanted, baby girl? Gettin’ your little cunt fucked like a good little slut?”

“Yes, daddy…just like that.”

“Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“You, daddy. It’s yours.”

“And when he fucks you, whose pussy is that?”

“Still yours. Only yours. Always.”

He growled, as if it was turning him on even more, as he was still thrusting, even deeper and harder than 10 seconds before.

“Fuck, fuck. Touch yourself, baby girl. Not gonna last. Come on my cock.”

You slipped your finger into his mouth for him to lick it. He looked like a wreck. His curls falling to the side of his face and his sweat was sliding down them.

Your finger twirled over your clit, your mouth parted in pleasure.

“He fucks you like that?”

“No, daddy. Not even close.”

“Good. Come on, baby, come for me.”

And you did as he asked. Like you always did. Responding to his every whim as he responded to yours. Your pussy squeezing his cock even tighter, pulsing on him.

“Oooooh…baby girl…fuck yeah, just like that…Damn I’m gonna come, baby…Gonna fill this pussy. My pussy…Oh god….” He didn’t stop talking even when his cum covered your walls, and you grabbed his cheeks to kiss him.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and you wondered when you would finally dare to break up with his son.

Same "couple": Owned collection

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

1K notes · View notes

itwasntimethatdidit40 · 16 days ago

Text

Extra cream and sugar.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Words count: 5295 Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Frankie is your barista, every morning you walk into his café asking for a tall coffee with extra cream and sugar. He dreams of giving you another kind of cream… Tags: Frankie's POV, brief description of reader and what she wear but no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she has hair but it's not described (she's you, baby ♥︎) , reader has her own business, pining, yearning, slow burn, Frankie is eager for you, masturbation, obviously mention of coffee and sweets, a side of Christmas (just a glimpse), soft!Frankie, kinda rom-com vibes but we go smutty 😏, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), cream pie, nipples play (At this point you know me so you expect it, right?), reader rides him cowgirl style (yeehaw!), teasing, Frankie wants you to tell him exactly what you want from him, pussy pronouns, Frankie is smitten with you bb, no age gap, mention of alcohol, derogatory pussy eating (because it's Frankie, you know), oral (m! receiving), masturbation, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, some more filth I probably don't remember. Please, excuse me, I'm posting this almost 2 am as the usual mess that I am LOL. If I forgot something I will add it asap. I wrote a temperature in Celsius degrees somewhere in this fic, I don't know anything about Fahrenheit, sorry, I'm Italian. A/N: This fic is my Christmas gift to all of you who support me and have loved my Frankie so much in the past, I really didn't think so many people would like him 🥹 And it's especially dedicated to @baronessvonglitter who gave me this prompt around November, I promised her I would do something with it and this is the result 🤭 No beta, no proofread, no nothing, we're going down with this ship, please have mercy. I really hope you like it and I wish you happy holidays, love you all ❤️

Frankie had been noticing you for weeks. You would arrive every morning at 10:30 and ask for tall coffee with extra cream and sugar.

He thought you looked lovely, with your sexy dresses, a dainty necklace around your neck, little makeup except for a red lipstick on your gorgeous lips.

You were the highlight of the day. He had decided to open a café after retiring from the army because there was nothing he wanted more than to live a quiet life. He had seen enough pain and destruction for two whole lifetimes, all he wanted to take care of now were coffee blends, foamed milk, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies.

He loved arriving in the morning and quietly opening his place, arranging the pastries in the display cases, turning on the coffee machine, setting up the tables, and getting everything ready while waiting for the city to wake up and the customers to start arriving. You were his favorite since you first appeared before him almost 3 weeks ago, but who was counting?

You were pretty in the truest sense of the word according to him, radiant, elegant without striving, charming and nice.

He had started waiting until 10:30 just to see you, with butterflies in his stomach in anticipation and his heart pounding in his chest as soon as you walked in the door.

The first time you had spoken to him he had been enchanted by your eyes; he could have sworn they were the most beautiful he had ever seen. He had not heard a single word you had said and had made you repeat the order, apologizing.

You had laughed, and your sweet laughter had resounded in his ears like music. It had never happened to him, not even once, but at that moment it was as if everything else in the world had stopped and only you existed.

“One tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please,” you had patiently repeated.

You looked so pure that it seemed almost immoral to him the way his jeans had suddenly become tight.

He had shaken himself, trying to come to his senses, hurriedly headed for the coffee machine. He had prepared your cup to go and set it on the counter in front of you "cocoa? sprinkles?" he had stammered, awkward and nervous. Heck, he'd spent years in the military, he could fly a damn helicopter, his business was going strong, but in front of you he felt like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Uhm..sprinkles, thank you," you had smiled.

He had sprinkled colored heart-shaped sprinkles on the cream -- so pathetic, he had to admit, but they seemed to suit you --, closed it with the clear plastic lid and handed it to you, all with fear of spilling something and making a mess.

"It looks so yummy, thank you" you chirped handing money to him.

“Thanks to you, um, come again,” Frankie had stammered, running his sweaty palms over his apron.

He had watched you leave, your ass swaying deliciously wrapped in your skirt, and a whiff of your perfume had reached his nostrils, filling them with a heavenly flowery scent.

It had taken him a few seconds too long to pay attention to the next customer, a rather impatient middle-aged man who had ruined the magic you had brought into his café.

He had hoped you would come back all evening, and the next morning he woke up even earlier than usual, showered, stood several minutes in front of his closet thinking about which of his shirts you might like best, even wasted time adjusting his beard. He had even contemplated not wearing the cap he always wore with fear that you might find it silly, but in the end habit won out. Besides, he had thought, I might as well show her who I really am. That is, assuming she comes back. And if she doesn't come back? He had felt so disappointed at the idea. Maybe you hadn't even liked his coffee in the end. Once at the café, he had kept himself as busy as possible so as not to drown in false hopes, but he had found himself staring at the clock more often than he would have liked to admit.

At precisely 10:30 a.m. you had entered. You were even more beautiful than the day before, wrapped in a little flowery dress, your beautiful legs exposed, your sweet scent in the air.

He knew absolutely nothing about you, had barely spoken to you and yet his palms were sweating again, his throat was as dry as a desert, he nervously switched his weight from one leg to the other, standing behind the counter as he watched you approach.

“Good morning,” you had said, with a sweet smile spreading across your face.

“Uh...good morning,” he had stammered, ”what would you like this morning?”

“Tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please.”

Your melodious voice had again gone straight to the crotch of his pants.

“Same as yesterday” he had said ”coming right up.”

“Oh, you remember!” you sounded surprised. How could he have forgotten the most beautiful creature who had ever set foot in his café?

“Um, yeah, it's my job after all” he had clutched his shoulders. He didn't remember orders from customers who had been coming to him for months, he had memorized yours instantly. He didn't need to let you know anyway.

“That's so cute,” you had observed while continuing to give him that amazing smile.

He had turned to make your coffee feeling your eyes behind his back, he was so nervous that he almost burned himself pouring the coffee into the cup.

He had managed to avoid it by a whisker; he would have hated to look clueless in front of you.

“There you go,” he had smiled nervously at you, ”be careful, it's very hot.”

“I will, thank you” you had answered him softly.

You had paid him and headed for the exit, turning to look at him before pushing open the door “Have a good day”

“Oh, thank you, you too” he had replied, his voice hoarse with excitement.

That evening he had surrendered to his lowest instincts and as soon as he had jumped into the shower after a long day's work, he had allowed himself to close his eyes and think about you.

He had tightened his hand around his cock and thought about your scent, your smile, how your dress deliciously enveloped your tits, showing off your cleavage.

He had imagined kissing you and feeling the softness of your lips, lowering a hand between your legs and discovering that you were not wearing panties, running his fingers over your wet folds and then bending over in front of you and making you come with his tongue.

He had lingered in these fantasies as he pumped his cock faster and faster, stroking the tip, imagining that it was your delicate hand doing it, your red-enameled nails wrapped around its length.

He had come in his hand, soiling the shower wall, uncontrolled, totally enraptured by the wonderful vision of you in his head.

____________________________________

He had continued to play it cool for three weeks, but by now every time you came in his head was just thinking “say something more than ‘good morning’ and ‘be careful not to burn yourself’ and ‘have a nice day,’ you idiot.” Ask her something, find out if she's involved with someone.”

So one morning he finally had attempted “Do you work near here?” he had asked, handing you your usual coffee.

You had hesitated a moment before answering, “Actually, yes, just a stone's throw away. You know that jewelry store that opened three weeks ago? That's mine.”

“Oh, great,” he had said, straining not to smile like a sucker.

“Yeah, I'm a jewelry designer, I finally got to open a store with my own brand, I'm very excited.” your eyes twinkled with pride and Frankie had thought you were so incredibly beautiful that he wanted to kiss you there and then.

You had held out your hand to him and said your name, and he had shaken it with his heart in his throat.

“Nice, and nice name by the way” he had replied instead, ‘did you make that one?’ pointing to your necklace. It had a small star-shaped pendant.

“Yes, do you like it?” you had asked, brushing it with your fingers.

“I like it very much, it looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” you had replied, smiling, ”well, if you have to give any gifts to your girlfriend or wife, come by and see me.”

“Uh, actually, I'm not married or even engaged.” He babbled, looking at you embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, I see.” and then in a lower voice and winking at him you had added, ”Can't say I'm sorry.”

Holy fuck, you were flirting.

His cock had twitched at your wink; he couldn't believe that all this time you had been reciprocating his silent interest.

“I have to go back to work, now. Have a nice day, Frankie,” you said, smiling and heading for the exit.

He was dumbfounded a few seconds wondering how you knew his name, since in the heat of the moment he hadn't even told you. Then he had looked down at his shirt, where his name tag was pinned.

“I like your cap, by the way,” you had said before you left.

“Oh. Thank you. I like your dress," he had replied a little too loudly, so much so that people at the tables had turned around cackling.

You looked at him one last time with a smug expression before disappearing down the street.

____________________________________

Christmas was coming, as much as it may have felt like Christmas in Florida with 26 degrees during the day. Frankie had decorated the café with small silver decorations at the windows, a small Christmas tree near the counter filled with lights that were also silver.

While decorating however, the only thing he was thinking about was you. He had done everything early in the morning, before opening, wondering what you were doing, if you had just woken up and were stretching in bed with your hair tousled and your eyes still clouded by sleep. He wondered what you were wearing to sleep, wondering if you were a babydoll type or more of a T-shirt and shorts type.

Or maybe you were sleeping naked. He daydreamed of your florid body wrapped in your sheets, the soft curve of your ass, your breasts, your nipples brushing against the cotton fabric.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, realizing that he had dropped one of the balls he was putting on the tree, which had ruinously fallen to the ground, splitting into a thousand pieces on the floor.

He rolled his eyes as he went to the closet to get a broom and dustpan.

Maybe it was time to stop fantasizing and get moving on asking you out.

He was terrified that you would say no but he had to do it before someone else tried. Someone like you wouldn't be alone for long.

You had entered the venue at the usual time, admiring the decorations. Frankie felt a small surge of pride in the middle of his chest as you approached the counter. “Oh wow, this is so festive, I love it.”

He knew he had just smiled like a dork but he didn't care.

In your brief little chats you had mentioned that you were not originally from Florida so he took the opportunity to ask, “Are you going to visit your family for Christmas?”

You had smiled, squinting slightly, with that look that was now familiar from when you noticed his true intentions. You had given it to him with every attempt he made to flirt with you.

“Um no, actually Christmas is the best time to work for me. So I'm going to stay here.”

He had felt his heart do a little jolt in his chest as he struggled to find the right words to ask to take you to dinner.

He felt like he had never been so awkward in his life, but the truth was that he really liked you and made him nervous with your innate confidence and the sensuality you exuded.

“Well, if you'd like to go out sometime, I'd be happy to” he babbled.

“Gladly.” you had replied, looking at him -- he would have sworn -- mischievously.

“So...um...how about Saturday? Is 7 okay?”

“Perfect. You can pick me up at the store.” you had replied, fiddling with your pendant.

“Okay, well...see you soon then.”

You had leaned over the counter for a moment, signaling him with your finger to come closer, and when you had been close enough to his ear you whispered, “It's about time.”

You had left while your voice still rang in his ears like a siren song.

On Saturday night Frankie was so nervous that he had changed his clothes four times. Finally he had decided that a blue shirt and a pair of jeans would do. Maybe.

You had said you liked his cap but he had decided it was not appropriate to wear it to take you to dinner, so he had left his hair wet and styled it back with a little gel.

He arrived at 7 parking in front of your store and entered looking for you.

You weren’t there. He had looked around and the place was just like you, elegant but not overly so, bright and warm.

There were small display cases filled with bracelets, rings, necklaces, watches even.

All very fine, carefully crafted things, not that he understood much about jewelry but they looked well made and high quality to him.

You had put little window decorations similar to his own, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked at them.

Not only you were beautiful and funny, you were also talented and smart enough to run your own business, a strong independent and brilliant woman with ambitions.

He felt a jolt down his spine feeling unworthy of you with his simpler and quieter life.

You had appeared from the back after a short while "Oh there you are! Hello!” you had greeted him with a smile, approached him and kissed his cheek. He had brushed your arm as you leaned closer, feeling your soft skin under his fingers and his heart bouncing in his chest.

"So what do you think?" you had said, gesturing to the place.

“I can't say I'm a connoisseur, but it looks like a beautiful store to me,” he had said.

“Thank you. I really like your café, too.”

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to this” he brushed off.

“I don’t think so, your coffee is so good and that cupcake I tried the other day? It was heavenly. I would say you did a great job with it” you insisted and he felt suddenly better.

"Well I actually… I don't bake them, I get them from a supplier.” He had admitted.

“You have good taste anyway.” You had shrugged, smiling.

The hold you had on him was ridiculous at that point, you could have said whatever to him and he would believe you without hesitation.

“Let me get my purse and close the store and then we can go.”

___________________________________

Frankie had tried to behave like a real gentleman, had opened the door for you, complimented you on the dress you were wearing -- continuing to ogle your thighs while you were sitting next to him -- , asked you things about yourself, your studies and your life while driving to the restaurant.

The more you chatted the more comfortable he felt, you were witty, subtly flirty, exactly what he expected.

Truth was that he would have jumped on you immediately but he was trying to control himself so you wouldn't think he was a creep.

His cock however was of a different opinion, his jeans were starting to get really tight and he was afraid you would notice. You had a smirk on your face, something that made him think it was possible that you were desiring him as much as he was desiring you but he didn't want to risk making a wrong move.

“I'm sorry not to see your cap tonight” you had joked and then added ”your hair looks good though.”

“Thank you.”

“And I like the shirt,” you had said, lingering with your gaze on his outstretched arm holding the steering wheel.

He had decided to take you to one of his favorite restaurants, nothing too fancy because he wouldn't feel comfortable, the place was warm and familiar and put him at ease.

He had asked for a table with settees, to have a chance to be closer and talk more easily.

Maybe even reach out a hand to your beautiful thighs, if he had any luck.

You had ordered and he had chosen a wine, you had continued talking, and you had asked him several questions, very politely, without making him feel like you were interviewing him.

“So you were in the army...and you can fly a helicopter. Heck, I never would have guessed that. I like a competent man,” you had cooed, and he had felt his neck and face on fire. God, he wanted you so badly he felt like he might explode at any moment.

“Yeah...apparently,” he had replied proudly.

“And how did you end up opening a cafe?”

He had become serious, feeling that he was about to open up about something very intimate “Well...I actually couldn't take that life anymore. It's very hard, you know. When I got discharged, I thought all I needed was to live a quiet life without slinging a rifle for hours and playing with danger 24/7.”

You had nodded, “sure, that's perfectly understandable. It must have been brutal.”

“It was. I decided to open a coffee shop because well... basically, I love coffee.”

You had burst out laughing, a full, lovely laugh that had made it difficult for him to keep his hands in place resting on the table.

“It makes perfect sense,” you had agreed immediately afterward.

You had kept talking until you had said, “So, Francisco Morales, I have a question for you.” your expression was enigmatic and he didn't understand where you were going with this.

“Go ahead.”

“Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

He had chuckled, “Good question. And I really want to do that. I've wanted to do it from the first moment I saw you,” he had admitted.

“Then do it,” you had urged him.

He had moved closer toward your lips, breathing in your perfume mixed with the scent of your skin; you smelled good, clean, like a sunny morning in spring.

Your lips were even better than he had imagined. Soft, delicious, inviting. You were incredible.

Everything around was suddenly gone, there was only you and the way your lips encouraged him to continue, the way they had parted at the approach of his tongue, your intoxicating taste on his tongue.

Your fingers lingered on his biceps, wandering over his shirt and down his forearm, while his hand wrapped around your face caressing your cheek.

He had pulled away from you a moment before putting on a show inside the restaurant, his hands tingling with the urge to touch your breasts, reach down between your legs, get rid off your dress and finally feel your body against his.

“God...maybe we should go,” you had whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I think so, too,” he had breathed.

He had stood up trying to keep at bay his erection pressing impatiently against his jeans.

He had paid the bill and escorted you out, despite your insistence to go halfsies.

Once you reached the car he had not resisted and had kissed you again, pushing you against the door. “I want you so bad,” he had whispered against your skin.

“Take me home,” you had replied, looking into his eyes in a way that drove him crazy.

Once in the car, you had placed your hand on his leg squeezing it from time to time. At a stoplight, you had moved your hand to his hard-on, massaging it slowly. “God, you are naughtier than I thought.”

"Is that bad?" you had asked feigned innocence.

“Not at all, baby...if I'm being honest...fuck...” he had interrupted when you had squeezed harder on his cock ”Christ, I can't wait to rip that dress off you.”

“I’m glad to hear that” you had replied in a honeyed voice.

_________________________________

The instant you had entered the door he had dragged you into the bedroom.

He had pulled down the zipper of your dress, letting it fall at your feet, and pushed you onto the bed.

“You're so beautiful.” he had whispered, almost more to himself, as if trying to convince himself that indeed everything he had imagined in previous weeks was coming out of the territory of his wanking material.

“You too,” you had replied sweetly, ”why don't you get rid of those clothes and come and get me?”

Frankie hadn't had it repeated, standing naked in front of you in an instant; he had never undressed so quickly even when he was in the army and had to observe a curfew.

He had stretched out beside you, his cock semi hard, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your hips over your panties, reaching up to graze your lace bra, brushing against your exposed neck as you lay limply sprawled on his bed as beautiful as a goddess.

“Tell me what you want me to do, baby,” he had whispered.

“What you want, I-” you had tried to answer but he had interrupted you.

“No, tell me, please. I would like to hear it. I would like you to tell me exactly what you would like me to do to you.,” he had urged you “is that okay?”

“Yeah” you murmured

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I like it…so uhm…Undo my bra and play with my titties, first. Would you?” You cooed.

“Of course, honey” he replied

You got up to sit to ease it, and then you lay down again as he tossed the bra to one side.

Frankie's eyes were fixed on your exposed breasts, he reached out a hand surrounding one of them with his palm, marveling at the softness of your skin.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen anything more perfect”

Your skin exuded an enveloping warmth that flowed through his body and merged with him. He moved a finger closer to your areola, circling your nipple very slowly and then pinching it suddenly, making you gasp.

“Too much?”

“No…go on” you sobbed “please”

“How?” He pressed you gently, continuing to brush your nipple with his fingertip.

“With your mouth…” you murmured.

He was full hard at that point, his cock grazing at your thigh while he lowered himself on your of your tit, sticking out his tongue and making you arch your spine as soon as he kitten licked your nipple. He smirked “mmm so sensitive, baby” before wrapping his lips around your bud and beginning to suck slowly, his beard pinching lightly against your skin.

His tongue brushed over you in short thrusts as he sucked greedily, his hand slowly descended over your torso, over your tummy, down to your mound and had stopped there, just above the hem of your panties.

You groaned beneath him, melting at his touch, he could feel your body slowly becoming more pliant to him.

“Yes - oh my god - go on like that” you whined and he couldn’t help but smile on your skin.

“What more do you want me to do?” he had asked, and to your discomposed groaning he had replied ”with your words, remember?”

He liked that you were slowly losing control, your barely half-closed eyes glazed with pleasure silently pleading with him.

“Touch…touch my pussy. Please”

He had moved his fingers down from your mound, slowly, over your folds, feeling your body tense deliciously.

His index and middle fingers had slipped between them, bathing in your essence.

"God, you're soaked," and you had panted.

You looked like a dream to him, your hair disheveled on his sheets, your legs spread wide for him, your breath coming in short gasps, your little pendant that rose and fell on your chest as he worked in your cunt with his fingers, lingering on your opening, going up to your clit and barely touching it, leaving you eager and hungry, just as he wanted.

"mmm more, please" you had begged and a smirk had unfolded on his face "be more specific, baby"

“I want ... fuck ... I want you to put them in me.”

"Yeah? You want me to finger-fuck this pretty cunt?” He purred, while stroking your labia, gently circling your clit with his thumb.

“Yes” you had sighed and he had easily entered you, slipping into your arousal.

He had curled his fingers looking for your special spot as you squeezed them hard “Oh damn...right there...God Frankie...right there” you had whined as a swell of pride was spreading in his chest and his cock throbbed.

You had the sweetest pussy he had ever been lucky enough to see, the obscene wet sounds coming out of her as he never stopped moving his fingers inside you was heaven.

You were magnificent, just magnificent, his cock was begging for mercy but he had no intention of rushing it. He wanted to fill his eyes with you, he wanted to see you sink beneath him, to lose your inhibitions completely.

Every fiber of his body longed for you but he stifled his need to take care of yours first; it was too good to see you like that, your pussy clenching convulsively, your mouth half-open, your moans filling his ears.

“I need...your mouth...”

“Where?” he had asked feigning naivete.

"On my clit...please" you had cried.

He had moved, taking down your panties, lowering to reach for your clit, passing his tongue flatly all over it.

“suck it,” you had said in a whisper, ”please.”

And so he had done, taking it between his lips, savoring your taste on his tongue as you cried your last wail and broke down in shattering pleasure.

Your back had arched, your hand had flown through his hair as the other gripped his sheets tightly, and your hips pushed against his lips, your lips bent in a grimace of pleasure that radiated into your eyes, your pupils dilated, tiny droplets of sweat beading on your forehead.

“Yes… fuck… YES”

He had continued to lick and suck and push on your spot until you had calmed down.

But you were not yet satiated, as soon as you had regained the ability to speak you had whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Mmm baby” he had said arching an eyebrow, scrutinizing your face unmade with pleasure and your eyes still glazed with your orgasm.

“Really. I want it.”

You had accompanied this last sentence by wrapping your delicate hand around his length "he wants me too," you had said with a smirk, beginning to massage him, running a finger over the tip to collect the pre cum dripping down profusely from it.

“who am I to say no to you...do what you want, baby” he had granted you.

As much as he had tried to dominate, he had to admit that he was completely subdued by you, and he didn't mind it, he didn’t mind that at all.

You had gotten up and gently pushed him onto the mattress, settling between his legs, locking your gaze with his, a glint of desire in your eyes as you began to lick his engorged tip, sliding down his shaft humming in pleasure “mmm you taste so good” you cooed.

"God, baby, if you do this I'm not going to last long."

He had craned his neck not to miss any of your moves, but he already felt he was on the verge of bursting, had tried to control his breathing and stay right on the edge, without plummeting down.

"Hold on a little longer, I want you to finish in my pussy. Please, Frankie?” You had purred.

He had let out a long sigh as your mouth descended on his cock, enveloping it as much as you could, continuing to stroke the rest with your hand. You had red nail polish, just like in his fantasies, but the reality was even better. Your mouth was incredible around his cock, your tongue vexing his swollen veins, your saliva sliding slowly going to pool on his crotch.

“Please, baby,” he had grunted, and you had hummed in response, vibrating on his cock.

Your tongue had swirled over his red, swollen tip, then you had pulled away and said, "Please what?" glancing at him.

“Sit on me, please, I can’t…” he had groaned.

You had moved warily, straddling him, taking his cock back into your hand, aligning it with your entrance.

You had lowered yourself slowly, moaning "you are so thick" as he felt your cunt open up for him, your walls stretch and your essence coiling around him mixing with your saliva.

“And you are so tight ... fuck, baby, it’s so good.”

The instant you had sat completely on him had been unreal, he felt so deep inside you he swore he was pressing against your cervix, and you were squeezing him so hard he had thought he would lose his mind. You began to roll your hips over him, rubbing your clit with your fingers while your other hand was anchored on his hip.

He had begun to move his hips in rhythm with yours, thrusting inside you “harder” you had urged him “please, Frankie”

He was lost in the instant he had seen you bring one hand to your tit, kneading your breast as you continued to ride him faster and faster, pinching your nipple while rubbing your clit with the other.

“I’m coming…fuck..where, babe?” He had stammered and you cried “inside, please, I’m on the pill.” You had thrown your head back immediately after, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your disheveled hair falling over your neck, seeing you so totally ravished had made him explode inside you, painting your hot, soaked walls with his cum.

You were collapsed on top of him, wrapping yourself around his body while he was still pulsing inside you. You had waited for his breathing to return to normal by peppering his neck with little kisses, going up his jaw and ending on his lips.

He had hugged you tightly, reveling in your warmth, the softness of your breasts on his chest, your legs wrapped tightly with his, and the intoxicating scent of your skin.

You had hummed in the crook of his neck, then looked into his eyes and moved a lock of hair from his sweat-beaded forehead, kissing him one more time, his mustache tickling your cupid's bow.

“From the first time I saw you, I knew we would end up like this, you know?” you had said with a proud undertone.

“Oh yeah?” he had replied, wryly raising an eyebrow, ”how were you so sure?”

You had looked at him with the look of someone who knows very well what she is talking about and had replied, “For three reasons. First, I noticed right away how you were looking at me, second, I wanted it too and usually when I want something I get it, and third, you never charged me for the extra cream.”

bb tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @harriedandharassed @milla-frenchy @almostempty @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites @lemon-nomel

I would like to add a couple of special people that I am starting to know a little bit better and I like them a lot: @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk @gothcsz @msjarvis

archive: @pedrostories

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfic #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au #pedro pascal character fiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction

280 notes · View notes

baronessvonglitter · 5 months ago

Text

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 16 🍒

"The Mother Wound"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,882

Summary: When your mom comes to town for a surprise visit, she reveals everything she know about your romance with Joel, and discloses some secrets of her own.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), set in summer 2003, reader wears a dress, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, fluff, slut shaming (wrongful, obviously), physical abuse (a slap), language!, accusations of grooming, protective!Joel, your awful mom being awful and telling a horrendous lie, angst, breakup as in "I need time to think", no use of y/n, if I've l left any out please let me know!

Author's Note: the whole "daddy" thing from Chapter 14 is finally put to rest. I wouldn't do that to y'all, this is not Literotica. If I can think of any other notes I'll add them later as it's 1 a.m. and I need to get some sleep.

Series Masterlist

Can't see you tonight, babygirl. Working late over on Sage Street

You look over the text Joel sent you just an hour ago, and make sure the street is the correct one as the signs are hard to read in the darkness of the late night. But there are only a couple houses being constructed among the empty lots, golden beams of wood forging the bones of the unfinished brand new homes. Joel's truck is parked right outside the first one you see.

He's hunched over a table beneath a portable LED light, overlooking layout plans, a small radio nearby playing a song with a guitar riff that's familiar to you.. Sunshine of Your Love..

There's a surge of feminine power within you as you approach him in your flowered sundress. Joel's double take is priceless. He doesn't ask what you're doing there. To be quite honest he doesn't care about anything except getting that dress off you.

It's like a scene from a movie the way he scoops you in his arms, whispering things like "shouldn't be out this late by yourself" and lays you down on a pallet of bricks covered in a plastic sheet. He removes his white shirt, scented of his sweat and natural odor, and lays it under you for cushioning before getting to his knees and spreading your thighs apart.

"Been thinkin' about this pretty lil' pussy all day," he grumbles. You take his hard hat off and put it on yourself, lifting yourself on your elbows so you can watch him.

He tears the thin fabric of your panties, watching your puffy pussy lips appear, slick with want. Your scent reaches him and he can't hold back, diving in to taste you.

"Joel!" you gasp, your hips jolting as his mouth makes contact with your drenched cunt, ever sensitive to his touch. You let yourself get lost in the sweet sensations, sighing, calling out his name.

"God, you taste so good, babygirl," he moans against you, his thumbs spreading you open as his tongue delves into your heat, flicks over your clit. "Sweet like candy.."

Over and over his tongue laps at you, devouring you, his hands pulling down the front of your dress and cupping the sweet mounds of your breasts. He makes coming so easy, as if your body was made for the kind of attention he lavishes upon it.

You come quickly and he lifts you up, clasping your thighs around him, your sticky wetness rubbing against his belly, his own jeans unbuttoned, and moves you to a more discreet place, where you're hidden by the wall sheathing. He hastily removes himself from his boxers and aligns himself to your slit, carefully placing you over him, watching the way your eyes flutter closed as he slides into you.

He fucks you standing, legs hooked over his arms as you kiss him, swallowing up each other's moans and sighs. The summer night humidity and the laboring of your bodies soon have you both sweaty, slippery against one another. He drives into you relentlessly, slowing down only when he worries he'll come too fast, wanting your pleasure before his.

Impaling yourself on him, not a single coherent thought crosses your brain except pursuing your release, the stickiness of your combined sweat, the way his balls smack against your ass, how drenched you are for him, feeling like you can barely withstand to take all of him as he takes control, pressing you down on his dick like it's the last fuck you'll ever have.

You come undone as his tip just brushes your cervix, little bit of pain in the pleasure he's wrenching from you, feeling him spill inside, so much of it that you're already leaking before he withdraws, laying you down on a makeshift blanket of your clothes and his.

"I never wanna stop explorin' you," Joel says, lips brushing your neck, traveling down the slope of your shoulder as you relax in his arms. "I could spend the rest of my life explorin' you and I would still have so much to discover about you, baby."

You've never really been comfortable in your own skin, but watching him adore you gives you a different perspective. "Which parts do you like best?" you ask him.

"Your curves, your face, your eyes. I'm not sure if I can put into words how beautiful you actually are.."

You run your hands along his smooth, large muscles, giving them a gentle squeeze. "There's nothing on you I don't like either."

"So what do you like the most?" he asks with a lustful grin, enjoying your touch.

You grin back. "These of course." your fingertips graze his biceps. "And these." you kiss his lips. "But if I'm being very greedy, I think I like this the most." You reach down and gently stroke his already-hard length.

"I like you bein' greedy," he mutters, eyes closed as he savors your touch.

You feel him come alive in your hand and you feel powerful.

He slides into you, still wet, still sensitive from before, and he takes his time. Slow, but far from delicate. His beard scratches roughly at your skin as he gently grazes his teeth on your tender throat, moving deeply, intoxicated by the scent and taste of you.

When you come it's sweet, lingering, like the prolonged vibration of a note softly played upon a violin.

Joel comes softly and you revel in the warmth of his release, feel him fill you, empty his soul into yours.

"You're good, baby. My god.."

You run your hands across his chest. "I want to be good to you and good for you."

"You're mine and I'm yours," he kisses you again. "I don't ever wanna be without you." Kiss. "And I don't ever wanna stop makin' love to you." Kiss. "And I don't ever want this to end." He gently lays his head on your chest.

"Promise me it's always gonna be this good for us," you whisper.

He smiles warmly. "I promise you, it'll always be this good."

"Morning, hottie," you mumble, smiling. "How'd you sleep?"

Somehow last night you both managed to untangle yourselves long enough to get back to your place, falling asleep in each other's arms immediately.

"Really good, actually," he says, stretching, hair mussed and eyes barely open. "What time is it?" He checks his watch, eyes wide as he realizes he's running late for work. "I gotta go, already late." He scoots out of bed and starts to get dressed. "I'll text you later, all right?" He gives you one last kiss. "Sorry for cuttin' our mornin' short."

"I understand," you murmur, missing the press of his lips and the heat of his body next to yours. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you," he says, smiling as he gets his shirt over his head.

"I love you more.."

"Impossible," he gives you a grumpy look.

"Joel Miller, my heart melts with love for you. I crave you with each breath I take, you rock my fucking world, et cetera, et cetera," you say theatrically, giggling as he comes to you again, his broad, strong body covering yours in the bed.

"Save some of those sweet words for tonight, okay?" He kisses the tip of your nose. "Now I gotta get going."

"Miss you already," you chuckle. Wearing only a sheet, you follow him to your front door, give him another quick kiss, watch him get in his truck and leave.

You're so busy watching him drive away and turn at the end of the street, that you see too late your mother's car pulling up to the driveway, followed closely by Sofia.

"Put some clothes on!" your mother scolds before she's even fully out of the car. "Who was that leaving the house?"

You freeze. Nothing had prepared you for your mother's visit. She would have hounded you about it for days beforehand, but now she's here, like a storm cloud on a beautiful day.

"Answer me," Anita says. "Was that Joel Miller leaving here so early?"

All speech has left you. In a flash of anger you glare at your cousin, who shakes her head, hand on her chest. Not me, she's mouthing.

Your mom has already put two and two together. She's no fool, she played this game when she was your age. She had this man when she was your age.

"My daughter's a slut!" she wails.

"Get inside!" Sofia hisses to both of you as she sees the neighbors start to come out and see the hullaballoo.

"Get dressed. Don't shower. I'm taking you to the hospital for a rape kit," Anita says.

"Mom, are you fucking kidding me? I wasn't raped!"

Sofia insists, "Go shower," softly as she tries to appease both of you. "You shouldn't be talking to your mom like this," she whispers. At first you think she's referring to your tone of voice, but then you realize you're naked save a bedsheet, likely still smelling of sex.

"You're taking a pregnancy test," Anita announces.

"I'm not pregnant! What is wrong with you? Why are you here??"

Anita turns to your cousin. "Please leave us to talk."

Sofia stands her ground. "This is my house, auntie. I'm staying."

Your mom grumbles, giving your cousin a hard look. "You let this happen under your roof? What would your parents say if they knew? They'd be disappointed in your lack of morals."

"I don't agree with what they're doing," Sofia says. "But they're both adults, and-"

"You can't keep seeing him," your mother ignores her, turning to you. "You know that, right? It's inappropriate. He's twice your age. He should have more sense."

You never thought you'd have to prepare for this conversation. You never imagined you'd be in this spot, caught red-handed, being sinful with the first ounce of freedom you've been given.

"You don't understand, Mom.." you tell her. "I love him."

The slap registers only after it's happened, your cheek red hot, head on a swivel. Sofia gasps, steps forward to get Anita away from you as you press your own hand to your cheek, feel it already burning.

Joel thinks it's odd when you don't answer his texts, but he pays it little mind. You weren't upset when he left that morning. Then he starts to think you might be hurt. Maybe you fell and hit your head. What if you're unconscious and there's no one there to call 911?

Just when he's about to go stir crazy, his phone dings with a message from you:

don't come to the house tonight. my mom is in town. think someone told her about us. talk later, ok? love you

"Damn!" Joel nearly throws his phone into the street, the need to throttle something or someone is getting stronger. He never expected to have to see Anita again, hasn't seen her in almost twenty years and likes it that way.

You wait for a response to your text, but your phone remains silent. Frowning, you sigh deeply and start on your shower. You think on the many nights Joel has had you in here, pinned to the wall, or on your knees as you went down on him.. there were tender moments too, when he washed and scrubbed your hair for you, assuring you that he loved you the way you are, that there's nothing about you he could ever dislike.

Freshly showered, you change into your typical shirt and jeans, black Converse sneakers on, ready to leave at a moment's notice. But not with her. Not with your mom.

Unfortunately you take too much time preparing for the worst that only too late do you look out the window, realizing Joel's home. You rush out to meet him but your mom has already beat you to it. Sofia holds you back.

"Leave it be," she pleads. "If he loves you he'll come here, and he'll fight for you."

"I hope not literally," you mumble, watching the interaction between your mom and Joel from the safety of the living room window.

It's as if Anita has a radar for Joel. As soon as he's parked in his driveway she marches up. "How dare you? How dare you?" she screams.

He takes a deep breath in and out, taking a moment to calm himself before exiting the vehicle. "How've you been, Anita?" he asks calmly in an attempt to deescalate the situation.

She takes a good look at him as he gets out of the car. Joel Miller all grown up. "I've been better. You haven't changed in twenty years."

"Neither have you, still cornerin' me the minute I'm leavin' my truck. What brings you by?" His words are friendly, his tone is not.

"You screwing my innocent daughter is what 'brings me by'!"

"Jesus, Anita, you really don't mince words do ya? I'm not 'screwing' her."

"That's not what I heard." She puts her hands on her hips, her stance hostile.

"Well what did you hear? And who'd you hear it from? Hmm?"

"I don't need to tell you that. But you are to stay away from my daughter, do you hear me?"

Joel sighs. "I understand you're upset with me for.. for bein' with her. But you're not gonna keep her away from me. I know that she's young, but she's old enough to-"

"No, no, no," Anita shakes her head. "Don't you dare use that excuse. My daughter may be of legal age, but she's too young to know the kind of mess you've got her in."

"She's older than you were when you started messin' around."

"You son of a bitch! Don't you ever-"

"Can we talk somewhere other than the street? Or do you just like makin' a scene and lettin' the whole neighborhood know my business?" He starts to march towards your cousin's house.

"You were best friends with her father," Anita says, following behind. "Don't you think maybe she's confused? Maybe she's looking to you to be her father figure, not her lover?"

"She's with me because she loves me!" he shouts. "And I love her. What the hell do you plan on doin' about that?"

"She doesn't know what love is!" she scrambles to catch up with him on the porch. "Then you come along and you groom her to be this woman you want her to be. But she's too young to understand! You ought to know better!"

"Groom her? I would NEVER do that to her!" His fists are clenched at his sides, blood boiling at how she could defile the love you share.

"Imagine it was your daughter Sarah," Anita says softly. "Imagine she's eighteen, away from home for the first time, and a man twice her age does everything you've been doing with mine. What would you do?"

Joel closes his eyes, knowing he's caught between a rock and a hard place. One the one hand, he sees you as more than some eighteen-year-old. On the other hand, he'd knock the teeth out of any man who dared to try something on Sarah, at any age. "Damn you, Anita. You have no idea. If Sarah was in that situation, I'd make sure whoever that person was.. that they wouldn't see the light of day again."

She looks satisfied. "Then you understand. And the next time you think of coming near my daughter, I want you to think about that instead."

You jump when you see him come through the front door. Without an ounce of shame you hurry to him, enveloping him in a hug. "I don't know what happened," you murmur as you embrace each other tightly. "God, this is such a mess.."

"What happened to your cheek?" He looks at you with concern and turns to Anita. "Did you fuckin' hit her??"

"She doesn't know the worst of it, does she?" Anita asks, ignoring him. "I'm willing to stake everything on it, that you never told her."

You glance from her to Joel. "Told me what?"

His hesitation makes your heart thud, a shiver of unease tingles your spine. Sofia excuses herself to the patio.

Anita looks pleased with herself when she says, "Honey, he's your daddy."

You pull away from him, your natural reaction to uncertainty, your brain going at warp speed to try to process everything from the past couple of hours. "What?" you ask quietly in disbelief.

"God damn it, Anita! Don't go tellin' her shit like that!" Joel roars, and for a moment you worry that he'll hurt your mom, but all that takes a backseat when you take in what she just said.

Anita cuts in, giving you the story of her history with Joel, their brief relationship before she fell for the man you know as your father. How she struggled to maintain the lie, how hard it was to have a baby while still in high school.. all this you've heard before minus the part about Joel. She goes on, in excruciating detail, as Joel leaves. You barely register his absence, your head unable to wrap itself around the new facts.

Joel returns with a manila envelope. "Fuck you, I'm not her father. I never was." He shows a paternity test, old and crinkled around the edges, yellowed with time. "Chris had a paternity test done when he was tryin' to get out of bein' married to you," he glares at Anita. "I had one done through the mail as well, just to be sure." He practically shoves the paper in her face. "Had it done right after Sarah was born."

You take the paper yourself, wanting to see with your own eyes, and there it is: a 99.99% probability of Chris being your father. The results for Joel: 0%.

You give him back the paper and take a seat on the sofa. Every movement feels like you're underwater, body heavy against the tide.

Joel sits next to you, his arm around you in a gesture of comfort, without getting too close. "I wouldn't have done any of that if I'd been your dad, babygirl.. you know that." He kisses the top of your head. "I'd have taken you away from them, and Sarah could have a sister."

Feeling sick, you shake your head and remove his arm from you.

"I know," he says resignedly.

"Was what she told me true?" you whisper. "Did you really love her back then? And slept with her? Even when she was pregnant with me?" Your voice pleads for him to lie. It's the one time you'll accept a fabrication instead of the truth.

Joel looks worn down, older than his years. He can't even look you in the eyes, he just nods.

It feels like an eternity passes. "Was this what you wanted?" you ask your mother. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing any of this! And you told me this for what? For what?"

It's sickening the way your mom looks smug about stirring the pot. She's always like this. She's the can't leave well enough alone type.

Anita simply responds, "I'm not going to punish you for being naive. But I am bringing you back with me to Houston tonight. You can finish college there. You're never to be around Joel again."

Joel rises from his seat, looking ready for a fight again. "You can't do that, you can't just take her away from me like that!"

"Jesus, Joel. If Chris was here he'd beat the living hell out of you. Be glad I'm here and not him."

You stand up as well. "Fuck you both." With long strides you reach your room, packing a few things. When you return they're both quiet, looking to you for the next move, both have expectation written on their faces.

Anita seems deep in thought, older than her 35 years. "You're coming with me?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you. But I'm not staying here either."

Joel looks like he's about to break down and cry, and you realize this is the first time you've seen him truly vulnerable. Your own heart is too bruised and sore to worry about his.

"I just need to think about some things," you say in a small voice.

Anita goes to her car, speaking with Sofia, likely admonishing her for letting the love affair happen in the first place.

Joel stops you on the porch. "Are you sure this is somethin' you wanna do?"

You can't look up at him. If you do you'll cry, and if you cry you'll just let him pull you into his arms again.

"I need to figure some things out."

"I love you," he says softly. His voice cracks a little.

You swallow the tears that threaten to come, focusing on a small ladybug crawling on the floorboards of the white wooden porch. "When you were with me did you ever think about her? Did you ever think I'd be a good substitute for a woman who didn't want you anymore?"

"Is that what you think I was doin'?"

You shrug.

"Babygirl, you look so much like your mom that it hurts. So sometimes, yeah, I do see her in you. But you're a better person than she is.. you're smart, you're kind, you're clever.. I can't see myself wantin' anyone else."

It's not really the answer you hoped for, but then again this is not the kind of day you hoped for either.

"That's not enough for me to stay.." you whisper. Your mother ruined it, just like she ruined everything else, just like she ran your father off.

"I think we were looking for other people in each other," you tell him. "You were looking for my mom and I was looking for my dad."

"No, no, sweetheart, it ain't like that," Joel puts his hand on your shoulder, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. Your heart beats madly seeing the pain and anguish there. "What I felt for your mother was nothin' compared to what I feel for you. Please, baby.. stay." He clutches your hands in his.

It was just a summer thing, you think to yourself as you drive down the street, following your mom, away from the home you've known for just a couple of months, before you force yourself to not think about anything else but the drive, the long stretch of Interstate 10 that takes you to Houston.

Sarah's there at the end of the block, stopped on her bike as she watches you leave. You realize you hadn't said bye to her, but when you catch her eye she doesn't smile back, averting her eyes. She gives a small wave, uncomfortable even with the friendly gesture, and your stomach is in knots as you realize it had to have been her..

The one who slammed the door on you and Joel at the party. The one who reached out to your mom, describing what she walked in on. Why else would she take your leaving so well?

You watch her start riding towards her house, wind blowing through her locks. You watch her through your rearview mirror until she's a speck on the horizon, and then completely out of sight.

(I'm sorry. I love y'all. I'm sorry.)

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

86 notes · View notes

sp00kymulderr · 7 months ago

Text

stretch

Dieter Bravo x gn!reader x yoga instructor!Joel Miller

Warnings/Tags: M for mentions of sex. AU in which Joel is very flexible. Dieter is a menace. Daydreaming about a threesome. Reader is able bodied/takes part in a yoga class. No use of pronouns for reader but they are called babe & baby.

Words: 890 words

Summary: Dieter introduces you to his yoga instructor.

A/N: for my love @ravensmadreads. idk where this came from. You mentioned something about trainer!joel and being told to bend over and my mind went to yoga so??? Consider this a little offshoot of gym crush Joel. An au of the au.

Dieter had been insistent on your coming to his yoga class today.

He was practically dragging you along through the luxury gym floor to the studio - an intimate set up with space for just the two of you and the instructor. Perks of being an actor, Dieter didn't have to work out with strangers.

He'd never been that into yoga before he'd gone off to film Cliff Beasts 6. But he'd come back particularly enthusiastic about it. Something about a mirror. Someone called Kate. You weren't sure you particularly needed to know the rest and frankly, the sex had been even better since he'd gotten more flexible and active so who were you to say anything.

He's happy, giving you an excited nudge as you both sit down on your fancy mats, sitting cross legged as you wait for the instructor to show up.

"You're gonna love this, babe" He mutters, giving you the kind of smile that is all mischief.

"Dee, I love your enthusiasm but I really don't think-"

You stop, words scrambling just like your brain cells as another man joins you two in the room. He pads quietly over to the mat in front of you both and greets the two of you. Where Dieter's energy is very 'bouncing off the walls', this man seems calm and gentle, in a way.

It doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous too. Beautiful brown eyes that seem to tell a thousand stories at once, greying brown hair, scruffy grey-speckled facial hair that accentuates his handsome features. He's…gorgeous isn't even really the right word. Breathtaking feels more like it.

Well, you understand why Dieter has been particularly keen about this class.

He introduces himself as Joel before sitting down on his mat facing the two of you and mirroring your crossed-leg stance.

Your mouth feels dry. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're affected by the man. He's started talking but you're zoned out, hopefully subtly scanning eyes over him; the way his t-shirt is just a little too tight around the biceps, the tiny sliver of skin when it rides up as he raises his arms.

Dieter, thoroughly amused, nudges you back to reality. For a moment you stare from him back to Joel and then, "Oh right" you awkwardly say, raising your arms up with a deep breath.

If you thought Dieter was flexible now, he was nothing compared to Joel. He made every flow look easy, and showed his strength with a quiet grace that you were finding very difficult to not continue to be struck dumb by. Your mind was definitely going to places it shouldn't…specifically to Joel in bed with you and Dieter…how that might go. Hearing him tell you to bend for a different reason might drive you completely overboard.

As the class continues you're wondering what positions he could put you in, lost in thought right as his hands gently meet your hips to help you into a pose you might not be struggling with if your mind wasn't in the gutter. The touch of his hand makes your breath hitch. And not subtly.

"You okay?" Joel asks, his voice low and quiet, fingers giving you a little reassuring tap on the hip. You nod back, waiting for the floor to open up and take you away. Dieter gives you a knowing look and you glare back at him, now fully aware why he'd so badly wanted you to join the class.

It's either a blessing or a curse that you have the same taste in men.

It's a relief when the class ends, when the 45 minutes are up and you can hopefully get out of the small studio and clear your head of dirty thoughts about a man just doing his job.

You look over to Joel as he's clearing away mats, give him a little smile and say your thanks and pray that you aren't somehow giving away the things you'd been thinking about him for the whole time. To your surprise he gives you a smile and a wink as you're on your way out.

"Give me a couple minutes, baby" Dieter says mysteriously. Maybe you should be worried about that particular glint in his eyes as he approaches Joel when you exit the studio.

You're checking your phone when Dieter comes back out, taking your hand and walking with you back to the car.

"So?" He asks, looking at your like an expectant puppy.

"Hm?"

"You liked it? What'd you think of Joel?" He says, his tone telling you he's much more interested in knowing your thoughts on the other man.

"He's very…" You start, not sure quite how to describe the things you felt about him in that short amount of time "bendy?"

"Yeah he is" Dieter sighs happily, pulling you towards him out by the car and turning you around to face him. His arms nake round your middle, holding you close. "You liked him, right?"

You sigh, returning his embrace. He always looked for a reason to be as close to you as possible. You would never complain about that.

"Yeah, I like him"

His smile lights up the entire parking lot. You knew he was up to something.

"Good" He kisses the tip of your nose before pulling back.

"Cause he's coming over tonight to give us a special session"

#Dieter Bravo x reader x Joel Miller #Dieter Bravo x reader #Joel Miller x reader #joel miller x dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fiction

185 notes · View notes

sunshinehaze1 · 14 days ago

Text

Sea of Love

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Summary: Javi surprises you for your birthday!

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. established relationship, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected PiV, creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: I wrote this for my dear friend @80ssong for her birthday, and she was cool with me sharing it with the world! Javi G is her fave, and there is not enough Javi G fic out there! So we’re going to change that one fic at a time. Happiest of birthdays to you!! I love you! 🥳❤️ huge thank you to the lovely @baronessvonglitter for the beta 🫶🏼 I also made a playlist to accompany the fic. Javi seems like the type who would woo you with Yacht Rock love songs. 🤭 I hope you enjoy it!

word count: 2,665

ao3 | ml

You're awoken gently by one of Javi's assistants, Sophia, encouraging you out of bed. "Up, up, señorita."

In your groggy state, you turn to the other side of the bed and notice that Javi isn't beside you. You return your gaze to Sophia with a furrowed brow. "Mr. Gutiérrez would like you to meet him at the dock."

"The dock?" You question, "What for?"

"He didn't say, señorita."

You had been anticipating a lazy day in bed in your lover's arms. It was the one thing you had asked for to celebrate turning a year older: one-on-one time with Javi, an opportunity to sleep in. You're unsure why the plan has changed.

You've been with Javi for over a year, having relocated to the island to be with him. It has been a whirlwind romance. You met him at a movie premiere after-party for a film he wrote. You worked in marketing for the studio that distributed it, his sophomore production, which followed the blockbuster success of the movie he co-wrote with Nicolas Cage.

Long-distance worked for the first few months, but it soon became difficult. Balancing the time difference and long flights with your busy schedules was exhausting. Javi offered you a role in his family's business, leading PR and marketing, and you relocated to Mallorca, moving into his lavish home. It has been absolute bliss ever since.

You suspect Javi is up to something. He's a romantic, and he loves to surprise you. There's only one way to find out what he has planned this time, so you crawl out of bed, wash up, and slip on a flowy floral dress and sandals. Before you exit your shared bedroom, you grab your sunglasses from the dresser to shield your eyes from the bright Mallorcan sun.

As you descend the outdoor stairs, you admire Javi's handsome appearance. He's wearing a fitted baby blue blazer, striped shirt, and tan pants. His brown curls are accented with a golden hue, and his sunglasses hide his soft brown eyes. He greets you with a broad smile, and his arms extend before him. "Hello, mi amor!"

He embraces you and pecks your cheek with a kiss. "Javi, what are you up to?"

"Mi amor, it is a surprise. Come, come, they are waiting for us." He gestures toward a 60-foot yacht docked in the harbor.

"Javi!" your mouth falls open, "When did you get this?" You're still not used to a lifestyle of such extravagance and luxury.

"It arrived last week. The build, it took some time," he shares enthusiastically. "But it arrived at the perfect time. Now we can sail on its maiden voyage to celebrate your birthday!"

You stare adoringly at him, unbelieving that this is your life now. Javi's zest for life and enjoyment of every moment were among the many reasons you fell head over heels for him.

As you approach the boat, you notice the script lettering on the stern—it's your name. Javi has named it after you. Tears form, threatening to fall from your eyes; the significance of such an act is not lost on you.

Javi sees a tear roll down your cheek, and his face falls with worry. He cups your face in his hands and thumbs the tear away. "Baby, are you alright?"

It's a struggle to find the words right away. So you nod and smile, your eyes glassy, until you finally squeak out, "You named it after me?"

"But of course. It is tradition to name your boat after someone meaningful in your life, for good luck." his eyes never waver from yours. "And you, mi amor, are the most important person in my life. I am the luckiest man in the world! I love you so much!" He kisses the tip of your nose and wipes another tear before it can fall.

"I love you too, Javi."

He grabs your hand and walks you toward the yacht, "Come, let's board. We will be at sea for three days."

You halt, "But Javi, I didn't pack anything!"

"Sophia has taken care of that for you. Do not worry."

In addition to the Captain and First Officer, the yacht is fully staffed with a chef and stewards available to cater to your every need. Javi excitedly shows you around the space to get acquainted with the amenities. The crew's quarters are tucked away from the main area, offering you and Javi privacy. There is a living area with ample seating and a wet bar, multiple bedrooms, and bathrooms. He shows you the primary bedroom, which includes a walk-in closet. You peek inside to see the clothes Sophia packed for you are hung and perfectly ironed.

You exit the closet to meet Javi standing near the edge of the bed, "This is so beautiful, Javi."

"I'm so happy you love it, mi amor." He softly kisses your lips. "The chef has prepared a late lunch for us." His hand grasps around yours, "Let's go eat!"

You follow him back into the main cabin. A mahogany dining table is appointed with crisp linens, delicate china, and wine glasses with a beautiful floral arrangement in the middle. Javi pulls a chair from the table and motions for you to sit. He quickly rounds the table to sit across from you.

The chef enters with his attendants, who trail behind him with their hands full of serving dishes. They carefully place the dishes while the chef introduces the meal, which includes paella with prawns, ceviche, oysters, small plates of olives, and assorted local cheeses. The staff then leaves you and Javi to enjoy your meal in peace.

Javi pours the wine, and you raise them for a toast. "Mi amor, you have made me the happiest man. I hope to celebrate a thousand more birthdays with you. I love you."

You clink your glasses together and take a first sip of a rich, full-bodied red. Your eyes are misty as you gaze adoringly at Javi. "You make me so happy, too. I love you."

With the impending sunset, you and Javi want to take advantage of the last bit of daylight together. You return to the room and change into your swimsuits. Sophia has packed your favorite bikini, one that accentuates your beautiful curves. It happens to be Javi's favorite, too. A black halter top that ties around your neck and pushes your tits together to create delectable cleavage and black and white striped bottoms that tie at the hips.

As you change, you catch Javi stealing glances at you in the mirror. Looking back at him over your shoulder, you give him a little show. Slowly peeling off your dress, one strap at a time, letting it fall to the floor. You shimmy your panties down your legs, exposing your bare ass and cunt to him as you bend over, feeling Javi's eyes bore into you.

When you straighten, you lock eyes with him over your shoulder and reach around to unclasp your bra. Your forearm holds the cups in place, not wanting to reveal yourself too soon. Javi's eyes darken with lust; he bites his bottom lip, watching with rapt attention. With a wink, you drop your arm, and your bra falls to the floor, revealing your tits to him.

"You are so gorgeous, mi amor." Javi breathes out.

Heat roils in your chest, trailing up your neck, feeling loved and adored by your man. "Thank you, handsome."

You change into your bikini while Javi puts on his swimsuit. He's wearing a pair of striped swim briefs, which perfectly highlight the outline of his beautiful cock. His tanned, broad shoulders are covered with a yellow button-up.

He leads you to the boat's bow, where an expansive chaise lounge is located. Javi removes his shirt before he sits; his golden skin glistens in the sunshine. His body is pressed against the back of the lounger, and his legs are spread out in front of him. He pats the area between his legs, inviting you to sit. His legs spread wider as you position yourself in front of him.

Once situated, he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you lovingly. His hands begin to stroke the tops of your thighs while you admire the Mallorcan landscape of rocky cliffs and the sun's rays reflecting off the crystal blue water.

"Javi, it is just so beautiful out here."

He leans forward to kiss your temple, "Not nearly as beautiful as you."

His lips linger, moving lower to your cheek and down to your jawline, where he softly nibbles as you coo in response to the feel of his soft lips on the delicate skin. His lips journey to the sensitive skin of your neck, where he sucks at your pulse point. Your body writhes at his ministration, and a soft whimper falls from your lips. He knows exactly where and how to touch you; he's spent the last year exploring every inch of your body, discovering how it responds to his touch.

"Oh, I know how you like it when I kiss you here." Another kiss lands below your earlobe, "and here." The tip of his tongue slowly trails along the top of your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. He chuckles, "And there."

Your body floods with warmth as your desire for him crescendos. Arousal pools into your bikini bottoms, "Javi, please."

"Please what, mi amor?"

"I need you to touch me, please."

Javi clicks his tongue, "As you wish."

His palm skates from your thigh to your soft stomach. His fingers trace over your silken skin until he reaches your hip, and he pulls at the end of your bikini's tie, slowly releasing its knot. You ache with anticipation as he slowly trails back across your stomach to release the tie on the other side. The front of your suit slides down, exposing your cunt to the salt air. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, desperate for him to touch you where you need it most.

"You were such a tease changing into your swimsuit earlier. So naughty." he teases, "And now we're so impatient. Huh, baby?"

You nod your head. "Please," you whine.

Javi coos in your ear, "I got you." His lips tug at your earlobe.

You watch as his ring-adorned finger slowly navigates toward your lips. Grazing the tip of it along your outer folds until he moves toward your center to capture your arousal along your wet seam. "Oh, she's desperate, isn't she?"

Your brain is dizzy with his relentless teasing. Words fail you; your only response is to buck your hips into his fingers, resolute in your search for relief. You moan as one brushes against your sensitive clit. Finally.

Javi has dragged this out for the both of you too long, having worked himself up. His cock, rock hard, ruts up against the small of your back, seeking friction. His finger sinks into your wet folds, pulsing in and out of your cunt while he thumbs at your clit. You writhe in his arms, head falling back on his shoulder. He whispers into your ear, "So wet, baby. My fingers are just slipping right in. You're always so wet for me."

His other palm ascends your body, reaching the cups of your suit. He yanks the cups down, freeing your tits. Your hardened nipples piercing the air. He cups your tit in his soft hand, pulling the nipple between his fingers. Gently tweaking at it, which triggers your hips to lurch forward into his palm, his fingers deepening their reach inside your pussy until they hit that sweet spongy spot.

The sensations are intense, stimulating all of your senses at once: his gentle, coaxing touch, the cool breeze mixed with the mist of saltwater against your skin, and the thrill of this semi-public display of indecency, knowing that at any point, the boat staff could see this debauchery. Thankfully, they have all signed NDAs. "You're so close. I can feel you squeezing my fingers." he encourages, "Let go for me."

And you do. Your fingers dig into his forearm for purchase as you wail out his name. The sound muffled by waves crashing against the boat as it advances through the water. He works you through your orgasm, the stroke of his fingers slowing as you come down from your climax. As your breathing evens out, you collapse into him, your head resting on his shoulder.

He removes his fingers from you and brings them to his lips. He savors your sweet musk, sucking off your juices from his digits, "mmm, I will never get tired of how you taste."

You tilt your head to meet his lips and moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You feel Javi's hard cock poking into your lower back, too distracted to notice it before. Twisting your arm behind you, you stroke your palm over the front of his suit, feeling the ridges of his length, and he lets out a strangled moan.

Desperate for your touch, he lowers the front of his suit to free his cock. Stroking it, he taps the tip of it against your back, and you feel a bead of precum against your skin. You move your hand over his and stroke in tandem. He collects the leaked precum from his tip to lubricate his strokes. He hisses when you tighten your grip over his. "Mi amor, I will come if you keep doing that."

"We can't have that, can we?"

You lift yourself to hover over his cock. He teases the tip through your slick folds, brushing your clit. You feel a burn in your quads as you lower yourself onto him until he's fully sheathed inside you. "You're just desperate for this cock, huh?"

You answer him by lifting yourself back up until only the tip breaches your entrance, and without warning, spear yourself onto him and begin to ride him in pursuit of another orgasm. Your tits bounce with your movement, and he reaches around to cup them in his hands, kneading them softly. One of his hands lowers to below your waist to your clit. A mixture of circles and taps on your sensitive bud edge you closer to your second release. Your pace quickens, and a wave of ecstasy rolls through you as your cunt pulsates around him.

Before you can come down from your high, he pushes you forward onto all fours in one swift motion. His cock never leaves your tight hole as he kneels behind you. He withdraws until only his tip remains in your warm, wet embrace before he slams back into you. "Fuck!" he grunts, "She's so tight."

Javi begins a steady pace, his hips slapping into your ass. His hands hold onto your hips with a bruising grip, pulling you into him to sync with his thrusts. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each stroke.

"Hnnngh." you moan, "Baby, you're so deep. Fill me up!"

His pace quickens, and his balls tighten as his release draws near. His pelvis pounds into you until, finally, his seed paints your walls. He wraps his arm tight around your waist and collapses into you, his forehead meeting your bare shoulder. He scatters light kisses along your back while his breath returns to normal.

Once he's come to, he draws you back into his lap. His cum dribbles out over his softening cock as he pulls out from you. He reaches over to grab a towel and cleans you both.

You relax into Javi, sated and content, as you watch the sun begin its descent behind the cliffs, painting the sky in orange and pink hues. You could care less that you're still in your fucked out state, half-naked and blissed out. All that matters is that you are in your love's strong arms.

Javi peppers soft kisses along your cheek, "Happy Birthday, mi amor."

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

#javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x female reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x f!reader #pedro pascal character fiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal #sea of love #pedro pascal fandom

37 notes · View notes

theetherealbloom · 2 months ago

Text

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋��❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, ��I think they’re projecting.”

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out. ��

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him.

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions.

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go.

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home.

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close.

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave.

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

2K notes · View notes